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jeonginsleftcheek · 2 months

Text

In Der Palästra

pairing: prince!lee know x servant!afab!reader

genre: smut, royal au, angsty

word count: 4.7k

warnings: vague mentions of abuse(not by minho), oral (m receiving), kind of power play, unprotected sex (don't), honestly minho is kinda soft in this (lmk if i should add any more warnings)

(also i am so tired so if there are mistakes i apologize)

check out: Masterlist

a/n: (the song is not everyone's cup of tea but i hope yall enjoy the fic)

inspired by lyrics of this song:

You weren't supposed to be here, but your curiosity always got the better of you ever since you were a child. Back then, your soul and body weren't as tainted as they are now, there was a time when you were innocent and full of wonder.

Until all of the safe walls crumbled down around you and revealed the reality of being a nobody, just a servant for the royal family who owns the land and the sky. Their prince Minho, is someone you always fearfully admired from afar. His face is always stoic, devoid of any emotion as his dark cat-like eyes scan the crowd.

He never even spared you a look while you stood in the back, but your eyes were always trained on him, like he was a magnet pulling you into his direction.

You were looking for a little nook to hide in, just for a while before you have to resume with your duties, searching for just one moment of peace where you weren't used and abused, treated like an insignificant speck of dirt.

Since you always had a love for nature, you gravitated towards one of the gardens, but to your surprise you weren't alone. Your body freezes at the sight before you, a quiet gasp escaping your lips as you hide behind a bush of hydrangeas.

Prince Minho, in all his naked glory as he bathes in one of the wells, the clear water splashing against his strong body, dripping down his spine, caressing his porcelain-like skin.

You can't believe you came across a moment so delicate on accident, a moment of sensual masculinity as you observe movements of every muscle on his back and shoulders, his biceps, his backside, his thighs, and you can see his member hanging heavy between his legs.

You swallow the saliva that gathered in your mouth quietly, the admiration you have for the prince turning into a stirring feeling in your gut, like a beast awakening from a lifetime long slumber all the way from the depths of your soul, hungry for something more.

He is beyond beautiful, the sun is reflecting off of his perfect skin, almost blinding you as you keep staring at him, unable to tear your eyes away like you're hypnotized by his presence. You know you could literally lose your head for sneaking around and watching the prince bathe, but your soul is enveloped in darkness in every waking moment of your life, sometimes even seeping into your dreams, and prince Minho is like a sun shining onto you right now, warming up your cold soul.

You could say you adore him, like everyone does, you're sure he's never had to face the horrid and disgusting things that happen in the shadow-covered corners of his palace, the ones you were a witness and a victim to countless times.

You make a mistake by adjusting your footing and accidentally stepping on a branch, snapping it in half.

"Who's there?"- Minho's soft voice breaks the tranquility of the garden and your heart gets stuck in your throat. "Show yourself!"- he demands, turning his gorgeous body towards the direction of the sound and you get a good look at his defined chest and abs, his heavy cock bouncing a little.

You stay frozen for a moment, weighing your options. If you stay where you are, he will surely make his way to the hydrangeas and when he finds you, you will be reprimanded for peeping at him. If you try to run away, you would be caught and if you stepped out you might be yelled at. Whatever you do, you know you will be punished, the question is which one of the options would bring you the lesser punishment.

You opt for showing yourself, maybe he would be lenient with you if you came out and begged for forgiveness with everything you have.

You finally come out slowly, fear coursing through your body as you shiver, you eyes cast downwards towards the floor.

"What's your name, girl?"- the prince asks, surprisingly calm.

"Y/n."- you say quietly and he hums.

"You know it's rude to look at the floor while talking to someone."- he speaks up after a moment and you gasp, looking up at him quickly.

His face is stoic as always, but you can see his lips lifting up slightly into a small smirk, it's almost unnoticeable but you caught it.

"I apologize, your Highness."- you say, your voice trembling.

"And what about peeping at me while I'm bathing? Should you apologize for that too?"- he says and you gasp, throwing yourself down on your knees instantly.

"I am so sorry, your Highness! It was not my intention but I did it anyways! Please, I beg for your forgiveness, my Prince. I- I will take any punishment you give me because I know I deserve it!"- your eyes tear up as you beg.

The unnerving silence that follows your desperate begging is worse than being yelled at. You can only hear your own heavy breathing and birds chirping all around the garden before the prince speaks up again.

"Stand up."- he says and you scramble to stand on your feet quickly. "Come here and make yourself useful."

Your brain freezes for a moment as you look up at him.

"Can you follow orders?"- prince Minho asks in a slightly mocking tone.

"Yes! Yes, I can follow orders."- you quickly make your way to him and your legs tremble when you stand before him.

You've never been this close to the gorgeous prince, finally being able to see his sharp nose and jawline, his pretty pink lips and those deep dark eyes that stared right into your soul, like he knows what you're thinking.

"Help me wash my back while I think about what I'll do with you."- he sits, and you catch a glimpse of a smirk before he turns his back to you.

A shiver runs through your body, you're fearful of what kind of punishment will be dealt to you but you're also awestruck about the fact that you'll actually touch the prince's perfect body. If this is the last thing you do in your miserable life, maybe it's not so bad to cease to exist after this.

You grab the cloth he prepared and start gently cleaning his back, feeling his muscles relax under your hands. His skin is so soft and you wish you could worship it day and night.

It's eerily quiet again, but you're concentrated on the task you have, your hand holding onto the prince's bicep as you massage his shoulder with the cloth.

He lets out a little hum of satisfaction, before a chuckle escapes his mouth. You stop your movements as your heart beats faster.

"I didn't tell you to stop, girl."- he says and you quickly continue.

"I noticed you around the palace, you know?"- he says after a little while and you let out a small gasp of surprise. "You're one of the pretty ones. Which means you've probably been touched before."

You shiver when he says that, the feeling of unwanted hands on you making you recoil.

He turns to look at you and sees the sadness your eyes hold, and he observes you, making you feel small under his sharp gaze.

"It wasn't something you wanted, was it?"- he lifts his hand up and cradles your cheek, another gasp of surprise escapes your lips as you naturally lean into his touch, his hand gentle and warm in contrast of anything that ever touched you before.

You shake your head, letting out a weak 'no'.

The prince leans in without a word and when his lips brush against yours, your heart leaps out of your chest and you chase his soft lips but he moves away quickly.

"I'm not gonna punish you. I'm gonna punish the people who did things to you and other servants so don't be scared of me."- he says and your eyes tear up. You act without thinking as you throw your arms around his shoulders and start thanking him, tears running down your cheeks like rain.

His hands are on your waist and the touch snaps you out of your little sob fest, and you snap back to reality, moving away from the prince.

"I-I am so sorry, your Highness! I didn't mean to do that."- you wipe your tears quickly but his hands are still holding you.

"Do you fancy me, y/n?"- he asks, his fingers rubbing your skin through the thin fabric of your dress.

"I-I'm not allowed..."- you start but he stops you.

"Answer the question."- he says sternly.

"Yes, I do, my prince."- you nod and he smiles, making your heart flutter.

"Is it okay if I take your dress off?"- he asks and your core starts throbbing at the thought of being naked together with the prince.

"Yes, your Highness."- you whisper and he gently slides one strap down, his fingertips light on your skin as he leans in and presses a chaste kiss on your jaw.

His lips are gentle against your face as he leaves slow kisses across your jaw line to your cheek, his hand slowly sliding the other strap down, caressing your arm and making goosebumps rise on your skin.

His lips brush against yours again before he kisses you and you melt into him instantly, tilting your head back as prince Minho leads the kiss.

Your dress starts sliding down your chest, the valley of your breasts exposed as the prince swipes his tongue on your lower lip.

You part your lips, gladly letting him explore your mouth as he dominates you with his tongue, his hands speeding up the process of your dress sliding down your body.

Your breasts pop out and you shiver as the chilly breeze caresses your pert nipples. Prince Minho leans away from your lips to look at you and your arms lift up instinctively to hide away from him.

"Don't hide. You're beautiful."- he says, and you think it's absurd that the most perfect man you've ever seen is calling you beautiful. You don't believe him yet you still let him move your hands down.

"Can I touch you?"- he asks and you nod quickly, muttering out a quiet 'yes'.

His hands cup your breasts, thumbs running on your nipples and playing with them and you let out a little whimper as you lean into his touch.

Your core drips with arousal and you subtly grind against the fabric of your dress, looking for relief as the prince squeezes and massages your breasts, the pads of his fingers constantly stimulating your sensitive nipples.

One of his hands comes up to hold the back of your head as he leans in and gently pulls your head back, revealing your neck to him completely.

Your breathing gets heavier as you try to focus on him but your eyes are getting hazy already and so is your mind.

Prince Minho pulls you a bit closer to his body, slotting his leg between yours. He leans into your neck, soft kisses are pressed into your skin all the way from your collarbone to your jaw. You grip at his strong arms as he slides your dress up on your thigh before covering his leg with it and pressing his knee into your hot and wet cunt.

You whimper a bit louder as his kisses get wetter and sloppier, his hand gropping your breast harder, his knee pressing into your heat as you rut against him. Your clit slides against him perfectly, your cunt making squelching sounds from the amount of arousal dripping from it.

Prince Minho smirks into your neck before removing all stimulation away from you and you whine a little at the loss.

Your head falls down and you finally look at him. A jolt of lightning runs through you when you see his pretty cock fully hard and leaking only for you, and without thinking, you slide down to your knees, your lips parting as you lean in closer to his member.

The prince chuckles and you snap out of your trance and look up at him, feeling a little ashamed for being so eager and entranced.

"You like it, hm?"- he teases, his hand tangling in your hair as you nod quickly again, your breasts shaking with the movement.

"P-please let me give you pleasure, my prince..."- you beg quietly and he smirks down at you, his eyes darkening with lust as he spreads his legs a little more to make place for you, pushing your head towards him gently.

"Go ahead, sweetheart."- the nickname makes your cunt throb as you put your tongue out, catching a drop of salty pre cum on it and the taste drives you feral so you push the tip of your tongue into his slit, licking at the rest of the pre cum gathered on it.

Prince Minho jolts forwards, the underside of his head sliding against your tongue. You look up at him as his lips part and he slowly moves the tip up and down on your tongue. Your eyes flutter as his breathing gets deeper and you let out a moan before enveloping your lips around his head.

The prince curses quietly as you nip at his underside with the tip of your tongue and play with him, sucking gently. His hand tightens in your hair and this eggs you on so you take more of him in your mouth.

You're not sure how much you'll be able to take because the prince is well endowed but his cock is worth the worship you want to give him, so you slowly slide down to take more of him, your hand coming up to wrap around the base of his cock. Your other hand grabs at his thigh so you can brace yourself to take him into your mouth.

The prince's eyes darken further as your big eyes stare up at him almost innocently, your mouth stuffed full of his cock as you keep trying hard to take more with each bob of your head.

You suck on him eagerly, coating his member with your saliva as your eyes flutter, and prince Minho grunts lowly, his fingers tangle further in your hair and he grips it, his hips jolting upwards involuntarily.

The sight of the beautiful prince falling apart because of you, his eyes hazy and his pretty lips parted, his cheeks and neck flushed as he stares at you make your arousal gush out and drip down your thigh. You squeeze your thighs together and accidentally slide down on his cock more making yourself gag. The prince moans as his tip hits the back of your throat, and you breathe through your nose as you engulf his whole length, your nose ending up in his pubes.

He feels, tastes and smells heavenly and you swear you can cum just like this, with his cock fucking your fluttering throat slowly. You bring your hand between his legs to gently grab his balls and the prince whimpers, his hips fucking into you a little more desperately as you massage his balls and let him use your mouth.

You feel his cock twitch, his balls are heavy and full of cum and you're ready to swallow every drop he's willing to give you.

"I'm cumming!"- the prince announces and you whimper around him, bobbing your head faster and gagging on his length as he meets your movement with his thrusts.

"Ah!"- his eyebrows knit together, a bead of sweat running down his forehead as he shuts his eyes tightly, almost looking angry as he shoots his load into your throat nearly making you choke on the warm liquid. You swallow quickly and keep swallowing as you milk his beautiful cock until you feel him go limp in your mouth and twitch from overstimulation.

You release him and look up at him, your cunt is throbbing for any kind of touch and he sits there for a moment, still not opening his eyes as he tries to even out his breathing and come down.

"You took everything I gave you, hm?"- he looks at you suddenly, his hands cupping your face.

"Yes, my prince."- you nuzzle into his hands and he gives you a smile that makes your chest and core flutter.

He doesn't say anything as he slides your dress down more, gently caressing the folds of your stomach and you adjust your position so he can slide the dress off completely.

You don't miss the way the prince licks his lips when he sees your dripping cunt, your arousal making a mess on your inner thighs.

The prince kneels between your legs as he lays you down in the grass, your dress acting as a blanket you can lay on. His eyes scan your body for a moment and you feel self-conscious as he can see all your scars and imperfections, your body was far from the ethereal look his body held.

"Who did this to you?"- his fingers trace the scars on your thigh.

"S-some guards."- you answer quietly, avoiding prince Minho's eyes and looking up at the bright blue sky, the reflection of the sun making him look surreal in your peripheral.

"You know their names?"- he asks and you finally glance at him, shivering as you notice a different kind of darkness in his eyes, anger.

"Y-yes."- you nod.

"Good. You'll tell me later."- he says and with that he leans back and looks around before his eyes land on a pretty flower growing near by where the two of you sit in the grass. He leans towards it and plucks it out, firstly staring at it and you look at him with slight confusion in your face, wondering what he did that for.

"Stay still."- he says, and your questions are answered when the prince gently runs the petals on your nipple and you gasp quietly, arching your back. He looks at you intently as he starts slowly running the flower against your nipple and your sensitive body reacts with more arousal gushing between your legs, your hips lifting up and begging for friction.

The prince ignores your needy hips for now, his focus on stimulating your pretty nipples. You let out little moans as your nails dig into the dress spread underneath you.

You've never been touched this gently, you've never been looked at like this, your body never knew arousal like this.

Prince Minho slowly drags the flower down your tummy to your cunt as he presses it against your wet folds, running the smooth petals all over your heat.

You moan, your breaths coming out ragged as your body shakes gently, your hips fucking up into the flower. It's not enough pressure on your cunt but you're still dripping, your eyes tearing up from frustration and the prince leans in closer to your face, his lips attaching to yours before he leaves kisses all over your cheeks and neck.

You're getting lost in the gentle pleasure as prince Minho's lips trail kisses from your collarbone to your breast, before he kisses your nipple and then swipes his tongue against the hardened bud.

You keen, arching further into him and he takes your nipple in his mouth sucking on it as he puts a little more pressure on your cunt with the flower, his other hand caresses your waist and your eyes water again at being handled so gently that you can't help when your hips spasm and you explode, squirting on the flower and your thighs.

"Pretty."- the prince smirks as he looks at your arousal dripping from the flower and you whimper in embarassment as you turn away from him.

"Look at me."- he gently grabs your chin and turns your head towards him. You gulp and look at his hand which is now wrapped around his hard throbbing member, the flower set aside.

"My prince."- you whimper as he gently presses the tip of his cock into your clit. You gasp as he runs it on your dripping folds, your cunt is hungry for him, opening up to catch his tip a few times as he keeps rubbing you.

Every swipe of the head ends with him pressing it into your sensitive bundle of nerves and you whimper, lifting your hips up in hopes that he'll just put it in finally, giving you that delicious stretch.

"P-please."- you whimper.

"You want my cock, sweetheart?"- he asks, pushing just the tip in and you keen, spreading your legs even more and arching into him.

"Yes, please."- you whimper again, fresh tears gathering in your eyes again.

"You can have my cock."- he smirks leaning over you, his strong arms on either side of you as he gently grabs your wrists, holding them down and slowly pushing his big cock into your tight cunt.

The stretch is perfect, your pussy opens up for the prince, taking the shape of his cock as he pushes so slowly so you feel every inch of him entering you. His sharp eyes stare into yours the whole time as you whimper, your hands turning into fists as pleasure starts overtaking your senses.

Prince Minho grabs one of your hands as he bottoms out, grunting lowly and leaning your hand on his chest.

"Touch me."- he says and your hand is rough, your fingers calloused from all the physical work you do with them, you almost feel embarassed to be touching his fair, soft skin with your harsh hands.

The prince doesn't seem to mind as he holds your wrist, making you run your hand on his chest as his cock throbs inside you. Your pussy clenches around him and he groans, his hands sliding down to your hips, then to your thighs. He grips them, slowly sliding his cock against your wet, velvety walls.

You grab at the dress under you again, fisting it from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure his cock is bringing to you, hitting as deep as he can, touching your cervix with every thrust forward.

Prince Minho grabs your legs and presses your knees to your shoulders, leaning closer to you so your legs wrap around his shoulders.

"Ah!"- you whimper when he pulls his cock out only to ram it back in hard and fast.

Your brain gets foggy instantly as he stops holding back and starts fucking his cock into you harder, his heavy balls slapping your ass, his hips slamming down with strength, his whole weight crushing down on you.

His strong arms are on either side of your head, as he leans his body on yours, his dark eyes never leaving yours. You recognize a deep primal look of hunger in his eyes as he rams his hard cock deep inside you.

You would panic if someone else was above you like that but something about prince Minho brings you security and you feel safe in his hold like that.

You let go of everything, completely surrendering to the moment and you cum all around the prince's cock, moaning and shaking as your juices make everything more wet and slippery, making the prince grunt lowly.

The squelching sounds fill up the space between you as the prince looks down at your breasts bouncing between your bodies, your nipples dragging on his skin with each hard thrust of his strong hips. Both of your moans and breaths mix together in the small space between your faces as he keeps fucking you, his hips relentless and you clench down on his throbbing cock, exploding around his length again.

The prince pulls out slowly and you whimper at the empty feeling, but his hand comes down to caress your stomach.

"I would love to fuck a baby in you, but we'd both be in trouble if I were to do that."- he says, so casually and you almost choke on a moan as he flicks your clit, his other hand jerking off his hard member.

"Mm, I know..."- you swallow and he chuckles lowly.

"Get on all fours. I wanna cum on your back and ass."- the prince talks dirty, making you shiver, hearing stuff like that from someone seemingly pure and majestic.

You do as he says, leaning your chest down so your ass is up in the air and prince Minho grabs your flesh roughly as you listen to the squelching sound of his wet cock fucking his hand.

You moan, jolting a little, making your nipples graze against the rough fabric of the dress. You whimper, your neglected pussy clenching around nothing and prince Minho notices you moving against the ground, stimulating your nipples.

Without any warning, he plunges three fingers inside your sopping cunt and you keen loudly, gripping at the fabric under your body.

You don't know how he can finger you so good while jerking off at the same time but you don't have time to question anything, your mind hazy as you come close to another orgasm.

Prince Minho's moans get more high pitched and a particularly loud moan leaves his lips before you feel hot spurts of cum land on your ass and back, the feeling making you cream deliciously around his fingers.

He unloads everything on you, cursing under his breath as he gives your ass a smack, making you whimper.

He pulls his fingers out of your hole, bringing them to your lips.

"Taste."- he smirks as he hovers over you and you wrap your lips around his fingers, sucking on them and looking up at him hazily.

You wish this moment with the beautiful prince never ends but nothing lasts forever. He pulls out his fingers and helps you sit up.

You don't know what's gonna happen next, but you didn't expect the prince to grab a clean cloth, getting it wet before gently cleaning you up.

Your eyes tear up and a sob escapes your lips, as you've never been treated like this before.

"Shh, I know. It's okay."- he whispers, his hands soothing on your skin, his fingertips tracing every scar he can find on your body.

You feel like he's worshipping them as he leans closer and kisses the back of your shoulder gently before his strong arms envelop around your chest, pulling you to rest your back around him.

He caresses your body wherever he can reach and as you come down from the mix of all the feelings you just went through, you think this might be a dream.

"W-what now, my prince?"- you ask, your heart beating hard against your chest. Fresh tears are already brimming at your eyes as you imagine never being this close to prince Minho again.

"You're gonna tell me their names. All of them. Don't even try to think about sparing their miserable lives."- he says, sounding almost angry and you shiver a little as his grip around you becomes stronger.

He loosens his grip and makes you look at him.

"Do you understand?"- he asks and you nod as you stare into his eyes, feeling hypnotized by him again.

"Yes, my prince."- you confirm.

"Say my name at least once. I wanna hear it from your lips."- the prince says, brushing his thumb on your lower lip slowly.

You stare at him in shock, your heart leaping out of your chest and the prince just looks at you expectantly.

"M-Minho."- you say quietly, scared to utter his name informally like that.

"Again."- he whispers, closer to your face.

"Minho."- you say it a little louder and he smirks before pressing his lips into yours, giving you a slow wet kiss that has you feeling weak.

"I will take care of the pests today. And after that I want you to join me in my chambers."- he says and you gasp.

"B-but I-"

"Ah, ah."- he puts his finger on your lips.

"I'm not done with you yet, sweetheart. There's a lot I want to know about you."- the prince smirks and you gulp, your eyes wide as they look at him.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny

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lxndonorris · 5 months

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a trip down nostalgia lane - Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smut Charles surprises you, wearing one of his old Sauber racing suits word count: 2160+ taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :)

In the heart of Monaco, where the Mediterranean waves dance under the golden sun, you find yourself in the opulent home of your boyfriend, Charles Leclerc. The air is infused with the upcoming Grand Prix, and Charles seems particularly eager.

As you lounged on the sun-drenched terrace, Charles suddenly excused himself, disappearing behind the bedroom door with a cryptic smile. Your curiosity piques, and you wait patiently, wondering what surprise he has in store for you.

Minutes pass, each one tinged with anticipation, until finally, the bedroom door creakes open, and there stands Charles, his frame adorned in his old Sauber racing suit.

"Charles, what's this?" You ask, your voice a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

Charles grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I want to take you on a journey through my racing history," he says, his voice filled with nostalgia.

As you lay eyes on Charles clad in his Sauber racing suit, a rush of memories floods your mind, transporting you back to the first time you saw him dressed in the exact same attire. It was years ago, yet the sight before you feels as fresh and exhilarating as it did back then.

You can't help but admire the complete ensemble that Charles has put together. Along with his Sauber racing suit, he wears his signature cap, adding a touch of authenticity to his look. But it is the addition of the newer, white shoes from his special Monaco suit last year that catches your attention.

The contrast between the vintage racing suit and the modern footwear seems to symbolize Charles' journey through the world of motorsport.

Your heart skips a beat as you take in the sight of him, his form accentuated by the snug fit of his suit. Every contour of his body seems to have been sculpted by years of racing, his physique having matured and grown stronger over time.

Unable to tear your gaze away, you feel a surge of admiration and desire wash over her. Despite the passing years, Charles retained the same magnetic charm and allure that have drawn you to him from the very beginning.

Charles strikes a pose, his hands on his hips, unconsciously flexing his muscles, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "How do I look?" he asks, his voice laced with a hint of mischief.

Caught off guard by his sudden display, you can't help but blush slightly at the sight before you. Despite the passing years, Charles still exudes a youthful charm and confidence that never fails to captivate you.

"You look..." You begin, your words trailing off as you search for the right response. "Well, you're a little older," you finally admit with a playful smile, mirroring him, teasing him gently.

Charles giggles, a hearty sound that fills the room with warmth. "Older, but wiser," he replies, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "And still capable of stealing hearts, I hope."

As you approach him, your movements deliberate and filled with a sense of longing, you can't help but feel a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. With a gentle touch, you reach out to his firm chest, your fingertips grazing the smooth fabric of his racing suit.

"I still remember the first time I saw you in this suit." You say, your voice trailing off into the distance.

You reminisce about the first time you saw him in this suit, and a wave of nostalgia washes over you. Recalling the way he looked—so striking and handsome, the fabric of the suit clinging to his skin like a second layer of armor—you close your eyes. It was the sight that took your breath away then, just as it does now.

The memory is etched vividly in her mind: the anticipation building as Charles prepared for the race, the air thick with excitement and adrenaline. And then, as he unzipped the suit to reveal the fireproofs underneath, you felt your heart skip a beat.

"Mhmmm." Charles purrs contendly as you trace patterns across his upper body, reveling in the sensation of the fabric beneath your fingers. Each contour and curve seems to tell a story of the races he won, the challenges he faced, and the victories he celebrated.

"You always look so beautiful." You murmur.

As you linger in each other's embrace, you revel in the familiar scent you know all too well—a unique blend of cologne, sweat, and the unmistakable essence of Charles himself.

Closing your eyes, you breathe in deeply, allowing the intoxicating aroma to fill your senses.

"So good." You purr now, opening your eyes to see him smiling warmly.

The heat of his body radiates through his clothes, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and desire. It is the sensation you have grown accustomed to over the years, yet it never fails to ignite a spark of passion within you.

"Thank you." He licks his lips, his eyes glued to yours. "I hoped you'd like it."

Feeling Charles melt into your touch, your strokes become more deliberate, more exploratory. You feel a sense of satisfaction as you elicit low rumbles from his throat, a sound that stirs something deep within you.

In response to his growing desire, Charles places a hand firmly on your hips, pulling you closer.

With his embrace anchoring you in a world of warmth and desire, you let your hands roam freely across his upper body, savoring the sensation of his firm muscles beneath your fingertips. You trace the contours of his biceps, feeling the strength and power coiled within them.

Charles gaze now follows every move of your hand, reveling in the sensation your strokes, your touch inflict on his body.

"So good." He lets out a low, deep sigh, and his accent is coming through fully. His voice is laced with desire, and his body is longing for your touch.

But it is when your hands reach his tummy that you feel a surge of affection welling up within you. You stroke him gently, tracing invisible patterns across the sleek racing suit, a sign of intimacy and love.

As you look up into Charles's eyes, you see a flicker of vulnerability mingled with pure desire.

"It seems like this suit is a little tighter than I remember." You tease, your fingers tracing the letters of his name printed just above the waistline.

Charles chuckles as he looks down at himself, his hand following yours in a playful gesture.

"Well, you know, I guess I've bulked up a bit," he replies, a hint of pride in his voice.

You grin, enjoying how firm and tight his muscles feel now, and through the fabric of his racing suit, it is even more exciting.

"I must say, it suits you," you tease, unable to resist a playful wink.

His smile widens, his gaze meets yours with warmth and affection.

"It's just a sign that I'm getting better with age, don't you think?"

You grin as you lean in closer to him. "Absolutely," you agree, and run a hand across his chest to his neck.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you trace your hand across Charles's chest, feeling the firm contours beneath the fabric of his tight racing suit.

You reach for the collar, your fingers lingering teasingly on the zipper, as you look up at him, a playful smile dances on her lips.

"I should check if that's true, eh?" You tease, and he places his own hands on his chest, unconsciously stroking himself once, then twice, while you play with the zipper.

"It's all yours." He shrugs lazily, inviting you to explore his body further.

But as you slowly begin to unzip his suit, he draws a deep breath. Anticipation and desire evident in his eyes. With each inch of exposed skin, his breath hitches, his chest rising and falling with every beat of his heart.

To your surprise, instead of revealing the fireproofs you expected, the zipper exposes Charles's bare skin underneath. You gasp softly, your fingers grazing the warmth of his flesh as you look up at him in astonishment.

He runs a hand along his cheek, feeling his skin heat up as he blushes slightly.

"Oh, are you surprised?" He shakes his head slowly, his voice slightly huskier than before.

As your hand slips inside his suit, the warmth of his skin sends shivers down your spine.

"I love this even more." You lean in and stroke his chest with gentle caresses, each touch eliciting soft groans of pleasure from Charles's lips.

You lean in to kiss him right when he lets out a low moan, so he breathes into you, giving you goosebumps. Your lips meet in a tender embrace, and you savor the softness of his kiss, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

Charles's lips are gentle against yours, his stubble tickling you ever so slightly as you move in perfect harmony.

He relishes the intimacy of your kiss, and you feel him draw closer, his desire evident in every movement. You sense the heat radiating from his body, the tension building between you as your passion ignites like a flame.

With each moment that passes, the fabric of Charles's racing suit seems to cling tighter to his body, accentuating every contour and curve.

Feeling the intensity of his longing, you respond in kind, your own desire matching his with equal fervor.

"Yes." He breathes deeply, grinding his hips against yours, his passion bulging inside his now even tighter suit.

Gasping for a second, you keep on stroking his chest underneath his suit and let your other hand run down right between the two of you.

You begin to trace the outlines of Charles's desire through his snug racing suit, and feel a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. With each touch, you sense the heat intensifying.

Your fingers dance across the fabric, following the tangible contours of his from with delicate precision. Every curve and ridge seems to pulse with the intensity of his lust, a subtle invitation for you to explore further.

Charles's reactions are immeasurable; his breath hitching in response to your touch. You feel the rhythm of his heartbeat quicken beneath your fingertips.

Just then, expose his chest even more with both of your hands to place kisses along an invisible line.

Starting by his lips, you press your own against his with a tender urgency, savoring the warmth and softness of his kiss.

As you move further down, your lips trail a path of fiery kisses across his jawline and down his neck, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from Charles's lips. Each moan longs for so much more.

Continuing your journey, you place feather-light kisses along his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your lips. With each kiss, you revel in the sensation of his skin against yours.

Finally, your lips reach his tummy, and you press a series of gentle kisses against the soft skin, feeling the muscles beneath tense with anticipation.

But then you stop.

You regain your composure, meeting his gaze once again.

He smirks and tilts his head slightly before stroking his chest subconsciously.

"That feels so good." He lets out a low groan when you place a hand at his member, tenting visibly inside the bottom half of the suit.

In rhythmic motions, you move your hand along his ever-growing length, eliciting more and more moans deep from within his throat.

His response is immediate once more. He leans his head back, letting out a long groan. Charles is already edging from all that teasing, your gentle strokes, passionate kisses, and his desire burning inside his chest.

With a few more strokes, he can't help but release himself, his body melting into your touch.

"Fuck." His body twitches slightly as he revels in this sensational feeling. "So good." Charles sighs deeply, and you start to stroke his tummy, as if to praise him.

He starts to giggle, letting out a deep breath inbetween. His entire body is giving in to yours, and you steady him, smiling to yourself. Then, he regains his composure as well, and straightens his shoulders.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself." You tease, and stroke his pecs again, focusing on his hard nipples.

"Oh, I am." Charles nods, and you share a giggle.

Then, after stroking him lovingly once more, you pull the zipper up, and he growls deeply. He then, pulls you closer, looking for your embrace.

Feeling his arms wrap around you, your heart overflows with love and gratitude. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent and savoring its comforting taste.

With a soft smile, you pull back slightly from your embrace, looking up at Charles with affection. "It was so good seeing you in that suit again," you say, your voice laced with love. "You look absolutely amazing, just like the first time I saw you on the racetrack."

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc rpf #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 rpf #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 smut #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fic #formula 1 imagine

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x-heesy · 6 months

Text

Wonderful I could cry 😭

If I stop the beat

You dance like crazy

You dance alone

You dance like crazy

You dance alone

Can you take me?

If I stop the beat

Beat, beat, beat, beat, beat

Beat, beat, beat

Beat, beat, beat, beat, beat

Beat, beat, beat

Beat, beat, beat, beat, beat

If I stop the beat

You can shout

Shout!

You can shout

Shout!

If I stop the beat

You can shout

If I stop the beat

Beat, beat, beat, beat, beat

Beat, beat, beat

Take me

Take, take, take me

If I stop the beat

You dance alone

If I stop the

Alone

If I stop the

Alone

If I stop the beat

Beat, beat, beat, beat, beat

Beat, beat, beat

Beat, beat, beat, beat, beat

Beat, beat, beat (alone)

Beat, beat, beat, beat, beat

Beat, beat, beat (alone)

Beat, beat, beat, beat, beat

Alone

If I stop the beat

Take, take, take me

If I stop the beat

You dance like crazy

You dance alone

Miss you like crazy

I'm dancing alone

Dancing Alone by Magnetic Ensemble, Jeanne Added @decemberthenemesis 💃🏽🕺🏼

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formulawolff · 3 months

Text

el tango de roxanne - t.w.

pairing: figure skater!reader x toto wolff

word count: 2.8k

warnings: cursing, angst, (slight) age gap relationships, (slight) casual friends to lovers arc, allusions to smut, toto being a jealous fuck, yadayadayada

song inspo: el tango de roxanne by ewan mcgregor, jacek koman, and josé feliciano (if you couldn’t tell by the title hehe)

a/n: if you haven’t watched tessa virtue & scott moir’s iconic moulin rouge routine… where have you been? anyways. this fic was inspired by a request & this routine! i highly recommend watching it hehe. also idc if 2024 is summer olympics… this is my au! let me be!

he couldn’t bear it.

not for one more second.

yet, he couldn’t muster the strength to look away. to avert his gaze from what was unfolding on the ice below, as you glided so beautifully across, your partner in tow.

fuck, you were so breathtaking in this moment.

the way your hair was pulled so neatly into an intricate bun, your features enhanced by makeup. the way your eyes shine as you face your partner, several feet separating the two of you. the way your ensemble sparkled under the intense lighting, the skirt fluttering ever so slightly.

this is where you shone.

like a star in the night, bursting to the brim with nothing but pure, bright light.

while he may excel in the paddock, the rink was your element. where you truly belonged. where you were as cool as the ice, calm and collected as the dramatic flair of the strings amplified your movements, the audience roaring in response.

as you move, it’s magnetizing, the austrian shifting in his seat as your partner wraps you up in his embrace, holding you tightly as the two of you sail across the ice.

his jaw clenches as he notices the way your partner’s hand grasp the exposed skin of your back and shoulders, the routine almost executed perfectly as the music continues.

fuck, how he absolutely despised the way your bodies molded together. the way he held you, lifting you into the air, or onto his thighs, keeping you in close proximity.

of course, he has to remind himself that this is strictly professional. that there is nothing romantic going on between you and your partner, jack probst.

well, not like he could really be upset either.

there was nothing going on between the two of you.

at least, that’s what toto wolff thought.

the two of you met at a cocktail party for the launch of the 2022 formula one season, at the mercedes headquarters in brackley. although you were quite new to the world of racing, you were a plus one, as your best friend invited you to tag along with her. since she was part of the marketing team for mercedes, she had an in.

although you were terrified beyond belief of the idea of mingling with engineers, investors, and well, the drivers, you had reluctantly agreed to come with. as a prominent figure in the realm of ice skating, you were aware that you at least had one thing in common with the racing world.

in order to be successful, every little aspect of the routine had to be executed flawlessly.

just like the engineers and mechanics had to prep the car in order to race, you had to ensure that you had the right skates.

just like how the pit crew had to time their stops perfectly without fail, you had to maintain rhythm with the music, so that the routine would flow.

additionally, you were very similar to the drivers.

you yearned to step foot on that podium, no matter the cost.

at that party, you happened to run into the team principal and ceo of mercedes, mr. torger wolff. the two of you struck up a conversation, the team principal complimenting your career, as well as your dress.

although your best friend thought he was flirting, you had brushed it off, stating that he was just being polite.

however, toto wolff was not being polite.

he wanted you, oh so desperately.

and he was patient. he was going to wait until you were ready.

even if watching your routine with jack absolutely tugged and squeezed at his aching heart.

even if every fiber of his being screamed at him to look away before that jealousy burned through, the flames licking at every part of his being.

there was no denying you had effortless chemistry with jack, as the media speculated the two of you had been an item for years.

however, what toto did not know was that you were in a similar predicament.

after that fateful night in brackley, the team principal reached out to you via email. you wondered how he even got his hands on your email address, but your best friend gave that away with little to almost no interrogation.

allegedly, toto was interested if you, completely allured and entranced by your presence. so, he approached your best friend, inquiring about your contact information. not wanting to give him your number right away, she simply provided him with your email instead, urging him to “slide into those dms.”

so, he did. the two of you hit it off immediately, emailing one another constantly. after a couple of days, he mustered up the courage to ask you politely for your number. with no hesitation, you gave it to him.

from that moment on, a friendship blossomed between the two of you. although he was a bit older, he had this charm that pulled drew you in, wanting to learn more and more about him. also, formula one intrigued you, as you wanted to learn more about the sport.

he showed you the ins and outs of racing, while you educated him on the graces and virtues of skating. a few months into your friendship, he invited you to a grand prix, offering an all-exclusive ticket for the weekend. all you had to do was say the word and it was yours.

however, there was only one thing holding you back.

if you went, you would miss a week or so of practice. which, wouldn’t go over well with jack. especially during the initial stages of the season.

and even more so, with the olympics quickly approaching, you would feel guilty missing so much time.

so, you ended up passing on his offer.

which, hurt his pride just a tad, but not enough to deter him from his end goal.

he was going to have you.

one day.

he just wasn’t sure when.

eventually, you accepted one of his many offers to attend a grand prix. settling on the 2023 monaco grand prix, where dutch driver max verstappen claimed victory.

somehow, someway, the two of you ended up in bed together that night.

you weren’t quite sure how, and neither was he, but you mutually agreed to never speak on it again.

no matter how much it was on your mind.

which, was almost every second of every single day.

on his end, it was nearly detrimental, consuming his every waking thought whole.

to make matters worse, that night in monaco awoke something that you had been trying to keep hidden for months.

you were hopelessly and utterly in love with the team principal.

even if he was twenty-five years older than you. even if his schedule was jam-packed with meetings every minute of every hour of every day. even if he could only call you every so often. even if he was a single father, recently divorced after nearly a decade of marriage. even if there was something unspoken between the two of you, the tension blanketing over like a thick haze.

what toto could never know was that you pictured him right there with you, gliding along the ice, his hands roaming your body. you could almost feel him murmuring in your ear how beautiful you were like this, blissfully lost in the music.

no matter the circumstance. no matter the soreness lingering in your muscles or the sheer terror of falling or missing a beat, that thought alone is what got you though the routine.

it never failed.

and tonight, it was not going to fail you.

despite the stakes at hand, you were a natural at this, showing no signs of fear as the final notes rang in your ears.

this was it.

the end of the routine, jack dipping your body as your head rolls back, dramatically falling.

there’s a beat of silence, before the entire arena explodes.

the sound of thunderous applause fills your ears, jack pulling you in for a tight embrace, clutching you against his chest. sobs rack your body, your shoulders shaking as the realization washes over you.

you guys did it.

you had performed with minimal errors. no major mistakes or noteworthy point deductions.

a flawless routine.

the endless hours put in memorizing the movements, the sleepless nights at the rink, the doubt that you could pull this off, were washed away, slipping from your memory as joy bubbles up within your chest.

“representing their home country, jack probst and ____ _____!”

the boom from the announcer drowns in your ears, jack saying words you can’t quite decipher. you feel his hand in yours, but you’re not here.

you’re somewhere else, somewhere far from the packed arena.

you’re dreaming of his expression right in this moment. how his thick brows are probably furrowed together, his tongue swiping along as his lower lip, knee bouncing ever so slightly. his fluffy brunette locks are probably a ruffled mess, as he probably had ran a hand through it a few times, anxiously awaiting for a glimpse of you before your routine.

jack rips open the foam padding to the rink, where you’re greeted by your coaches. they engulf you in their arms, shouting praises over the hum of the crowd.

meanwhile, toto wolff sits in the stands, hands on his knees as he anticipates the final verdict. his knuckles are nearly white as the denim bunches under his fingertips, his knee bouncing slightly as clips of the routine. replay across the ginormous screens all across the arena.

he's surrounded by you.

your stunning figure as it gracefully flows with the music, every movement absolutely exquisite. your breathtaking smile the moment you're finished, eyes shining like the stars as jack envelops you in his arms.

a pang of envy rises in his chest, yet he swiftly suppresses it.

this moment was not about his jealousy towards your skate partner. he shouldn't be feeling this way.

this moment was about you.

an olympic medal on the line, the future of your skating career at stake.

"the scores please," the announcer booms, blood roaring in toto's ears as he straightens in his seat, leaning forward, eyes scanning the rink.

it does not take him even a second.

you're sitting next to jack, your coaches on either side. although he was a distance away, he could sense your nerves, as your smile was tight-lipped, your hand shaky as it blows a kiss to the camera.

"_____ _____ and jack probst have earned in the free dance 122.60 points, bringing their total to 206.27 points. they are currently in first place!"

the crowd erupts into applause, jeering and screaming throughout the stands. your heart skips a beat as jack springs up, slamming the padding before wrapping you up in his arms against you once more, nearly knocking the wind out of your lungs.

he lifts you, his voice shaky with the promise of tears, "we did it! we fucking did it!"

"i can't believe it," you nuzzle into the crook in his neck, "i can't fucking believe it."

the rest of the night is a blur.

as the two of you stood on that podium, gold medals dangling from your neck as your national anthem played, you couldn't help but shake this aching feeling.

you yearned for him.

you longed to feel his strong arms around you, squeezing you against his chest as his husky voice flooded your ears, brimmed with his accent. to feel his hands glide along your body, their warmth sending shivers down your spine.

there were lengthy interviews, each one nearly draining your remaining energy with each journalist or media outlet. you didn't mind, as you basked in the afterglow of your gold medal win, a grin plastered to your face all evening.

before you knew it, you were in an uber, on your way to a new destination.

toto wolff's hotel room, a luxurious suite in the heart of the city. although every muscle in your body stung, exhausted from the events of the day, your mind is wide awake, buzzing from a torrent of thoughts swirling in your brain.

what would be the first thing that fell from those lips? would he embrace you first? what was he thinking in that moment when you won gold?

as you enter the elevator, punching the correct floor, your heart races, thumping against your rib-cage.

sure, competing in the olympics was nerve-wracking.

but facing the man you were helplessly in love with?

that was enough to make your knees buckle, your body swaying back and forth as the elevator ascended, palms clammy as you wiped them against your sweatpants.

surely he wouldn't mind that you were in sweats.

a shrill ding! rings in your ears, announcing your arrival. sucking in a shaky breath, you turn right, making your way down the hall. his room was not difficult to locate, as it was one of the first ones.

bringing your knuckles to the door, you knock, blood roaring in your ears.

he opens it almost immediately.

"hey," you beam, "i hope i wasn't too-"

lips collide with yours, his hands meeting with your waist, pulling you closer in to him. you melt under his touch, nearly crumpling to the floor as a shiver jolts down your spine. the kiss is fiery yet tender, as if lovers were reuniting after months of separation. it's a kiss of longing and love, bursting with passion.

yet, he pulls away, allowing you to catch your breath. there's a dusty pink hue tinging his cheeks, his chest heaving as he pants slightly.

"i'm sorry. i shouldn't have-"

"don't even," you shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck, "come here."

he doesn't hesitate, his mouth molding with yours once more as he brings you in the room, nearly slamming the door shut. this time, the kiss is brimmed with lust, an insatiable desire burning deep within the austrian as a whine rises in your throat.

his tongue glides along your lower lip, your head tilting back to grant him access. his hold on your is nearly unbreakable, as if he never wanted to let you go ever again.

your hands roam, inching up the base of his neck, tugging on the roots of his messy brunette locks. there's a rumble in his chest as he guides you to the bed, your back meeting the mattress.

however, he breaks away once more, eyes locking with yours.

"do you have any idea how long i've waited to do that?"

"you didn't have to wait until i won a gold medal," a giggle bubbles up in your throat, fingers sweeping a strand of away from his temple, "hell, maybe if you did that sooner, i would have earned more points."

an airy chuckle fills the space, his lips curving into a radiant grin, "congratulations, little star. there's no one who deserved that win more than you."

"toto," you murmur, his eyes softening at the way his name drips from your sweet lips, "can i tell you something?"

"of course schatzi," his hand cups your face, thumb caressing along your cheekbone, "what is it?"

"i sort of have a method to my skating," you can't help but shrink a little as the embarrassment begins to wash over you, "it helps me focus."

"and that is?" his brows knit furrow.

"instead of jack skating with me, i picture you."

at those words, the austrian nearly collapses.

"you do?"

"i do," you nod, "lately, it's been the only way i can follow a routine without mistakes. it helps me get lost in the rhythm, the flow of the music as it guides us. um, well, as it guides me."

"oh my beautiful girl," toto's mind reels, his heart swelling, "you're always on my mind. lately i can't focus in my meetings or at the paddock or in my office. you consume me."

you consume me.

bliss ripples in your heart as you lean in, the tip of your nose brushing against his, "toto wolff, i'm in love with you. i can't hide it anymore. i can't deny it. i love you."

toto blinks, ensuring that this was no dream. that you were really here beneath him, in his bed at his hotel room. surely this wasn't heaven. surely this wasn't some sort of delusion or mirage.

yet, you were here, nothing but pure adoration swimming in the depths of your warm gaze, your lashes fluttering as his mouth ghosts over yours.

"and i'm in love with you, schatzi. what do you say? should we try to make something work?"

"i think we could make something work," the words are merely a whisper, "actually, scratch that. we're going to make something work."

"that's my little olympian. are you ready for sleep or can i show you just how much i love you?"

#toto wolff #formula one #f1 #toto wolff x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff fanfic #f1 x female reader #formula one au #formula one fanfiction #formula one fanfic

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thepaperpanda · 11 months

Text

Welcome back home || Lucifer x f!reader

Summary: You find yourself eagerly awaiting Lucifer's arrival back home

Warnings: praise kink, rough sex

Word count: 750

Authors: Bear

A/N: I'm so happy to partake in this exhilarating Kinktober '23 Collaboration. My prompts were: praise kink & rough sex

Masterlist

"Welcome back home," you say, your voice breathless with excitement as you catch sight of Lucifer. He's beaming, swiftly kicking the door shut before pulling you close and claiming your lips in a passionate kiss. Your anticipation for Lucifer's return is palpable, as you detest the solitude that accompanied his business absences. You crave his presence and the excitement it brings, making the moments apart feel like an eternity of isolation.

"You look absolutely stunning, Y/N," he whispers, his lips trailing down the side of your neck. "Exquisite. It fits you perfectly, doesn't it?"

You're adorned in the lingerie he thoughtfully sent you, and nothing else. It's a delicate ensemble of strappy lace that barely qualifies as panties, a matching bra, and a short silk robe. Even when he's away from Devildom, he still loves to spoil you. You pull back just enough to give him a little twirl, and his dark eyes devour every inch of your body with hungry desire.

He licks his lips sensually, wrapping his arms around you once more, his hands eagerly squeezing your enticing curves. Your entire being feels ablaze with desire. "Did you do as I asked?"

"Yes," you reply, your voice a sultry whisper.

"Really? For three whole weeks?" He teases, sliding a leg between yours, allowing you to rock your hips against his thigh. The heat between your bodies intensifies, and you can't help but fear you might leave a telltale wet spot on his impeccably fitted uniform pants. "You didn't make yourself cum?"

"I promise," you swear, trying to contain your excitement.

"That's my obedient girl," he grumbles. "Just give me a few minutes."

Lucifer's shower seems to be over in a flash, yet the minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity for you. The anticipation hang heavy in the air, making your heart race.

As soon as you hear the water cease, a surge of desire compells you to action. Your hand find its way between your thighs, fingers delicately tracing the path along your slick, heated pussy. You gasp. "Lucifer..."

The panties he had sent are far from ordinary; they are crotchless, leaving your pussy exposed and framed by their sensual lace. Every movement seems calculated to draw attention to the treasure concealed within, and you can't help but feel the excitement building inside you. The knowledge that he will soon walk through that door, catching you in this passionate act, send a shiver of excitement coursing through your body. With bated breath, you continue to explore your own desires, slowly succumbing to the intoxicating sensations that radiated from your wet, warm core.

And then, like a perfectly orchestrated moment, he appears, his intense black eyes immediately locking onto the very place where you were pleasuring yourself with a deliberate and sensual rhythm. He didn't bother with a towel, standing there completely naked, his dick rock hard, already leaking precum from the slit on his tip.

It's clear that he had missed you just as intensely as you had yearned for him. The electric chemistry in the room crackles, a magnetic pull drawing you both together.

“That’s my girl,“ he says, in a sinful low rasp. "Good, little girl."

He gently caresses himself, his own touches sending shivers down his spine. Slowly, he ascends the bed, his desire evident in every calculated move. Hooking his strong arms under your knees, he skillfully spreads your legs, granting him an unobstructed view of your eager pussy, clenching aroung nothing. The head of his throbbing cock brushes against your longing entrance, and an involuntary, passionate groan escapes your lips. “Is this what you want?” he asks, eyes dark as he looks down at you.

“Please,” you gasp. “Please, I was so good!”

“I know you were, princess,” he soothes, and fucks into you with one smooth thrust.

In the throes of passion, you can't help but moan, your body arching upward in anticipation. Your desire brings you to the brink, and you tremble with the intensity of it all. "Please," you gasp.

Lucifer engages in an unrelenting, rhythmic motion, his hips swaying back and forth with precision as he fully penetrates you. A series of subdued grunts escape his lips as he revels in the incredible sensation of your wetness enveloping around his throbbing cock.

"Oh, Lucifer!" You moan, yor head rolling back to the mattress.

“You can come, sweetheart,” he says, and you’re clenching around his dick, seeing white sparks of unbearable pleasure even before he says, “You earned it, my good, little pet.”

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da-rulah · 1 year

Text

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader [Part 3]

Summary: At the request of Papa Emeritus III, you return to your duties around the Ministry, but when he reminds you of your absence from confessional in the past month, he asks you to return to where it all started...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 12k (lol wtf sorry guys this one ran away from me...)

Warnings: Pillow Humping, cunnilingus, panty-sniffing kink (once again, the glove returns...), honestly Copia just gets more pathetic in this part, vaginal fingering, premature ejaculation, cum eating, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, dirty talk (a lot of it...), lots of feelings, idiots to lovers

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

A/N: Guys... thank you all SO MUCH. The love for this fic has been bigger than I ever thought, and genuinely my heart is so full whenever I get a comment, a reblog, a message about it. I hope this is worth the wait, I know it's literally double the length of the other chapters but I really wanted you to enjoy and immerse yourself - there needed to be a decent enough pay-off after all the pining and angst 😂 Special thanks to @her-satanic-wiles for the beta reading and encouragement, and to @adinferix for their help with the Italian translation!

Copia had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t think of you today. Last night had been the last time. No, really.... He swore it. The moment he decided? When he’d woken up, face down in his pillows – after a night of self-indulgence that included another long-since dirtied and discarded pillow... - and realised that there was something stuck to his face.

Your glove. It had taken at least 25 minutes for the red imprint of that floral pattern to fade away from the pale skin across his cheek, and he’d been mortified - especially when brushing his teeth, having to stare at himself in the mirror with that pattern taunting him. He may as well have written “PERVERT” in sharpie across his cheek instead, for all the shame it brought him.

That pattern was the reason for the Cardinal’s tardiness to his seminar that day, the man scurrying down the halls and checking his reflection in any and every passing surface possible to be sure that there was no longer an intrusive red flower burned into his pale skin.

When he reached his classroom, everyone had taken to their seats already, some chattering away with each other as they waited, others impatiently tapping their feet or pencils with each passing second. Copia slunk into the classroom, muttering apologies with his eyes trained on the floor to avoid the death glares of the siblings who took their studies just a touch too seriously.

Without further ado, the Cardinal began to make some notes on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. The chalk squeaked against the board, some of the siblings in the room whining incredulously at the sound and the chatter ceasing as if he’d done it deliberately to shush them.

“Okie dokie, we will look today to focus on Latin pronunciation, and-” the Cardinal froze as he turned back to the class, eyes settling on a figure in the back corner.

He must have been dreaming...

There you sat, in your most conservative habit possible – purposefully changing after your meeting with Terzo that morning, your guilt for derailing the Cardinal in the confessional booth forcing you out of your impressive ensemble meant to manipulate Papa.

Coming to Copia’s seminar was not a choice; you just desperately didn’t want Papa to bring Sister Imperator into this or get yourself in any more trouble. Terzo had spared you a punishment and you weren’t to take this for granted. So, you’d made sure you arrived with a group of other siblings, pushing through into the seminar room and plonking yourself in the very back corner in the hope he wouldn’t see you.

But of course, he saw you. As if his body was magnetically drawn towards you, you were the first he laid his eyes on.

You avoided his gaze, scribbling something down on the paper in front of you to look busy. You hadn’t missed his cut off sentence as his eyes settled on you, nor the lingering silence as you scribbled.

‘Say something, Cardinal... Please say something. I can’t bear this...’ you thought, the seconds ticking by.

“Mi dispiace (I’m sorry), I lost my train of thought for a moment. Pronunciation, sì, that’s where we were. Okay...” he shook his head, returning his attention to the class. He couldn’t focus on you now, couldn’t jeopardise himself that way. One wrong move, and you may disappear for another four weeks, or worse, and Satanas, he’d never forgive himself. That was not the kind of hell he wished to endure.

Throughout the seminar, he would steal quick glances in your direction, as if making sure you were indeed still there, that you were real. Trying to find you before now had been like trying to catch smoke... downright impossible. His guilt gnawed at him like an insect burrowing into his skin, shame creeping over him each time he saw you staring down at your page.

You didn’t want to be here, that much was clear to him. He’d made you uncomfortable, avoiding him... It stung him more than it should.

“I... I think we’re done for today, classe (class) . Good job, molto bene (very good),” he fussed over the book on his desk as the class rose from their seats, gathering their things and heading for the door. In a moment of what he would describe as idiocy, he called out, “Uh, Sorella ______? Could I just...”

But you were gone.

Copia felt like a moron, embarrassed and pining over you as he watched you leave so quickly, quite obviously running from him. All he wanted to do was to apologise, to make you feel like you didn’t have to hide from him anymore. But you were that repulsed by him that you fled at the first chance you could.

He huffed, dropping into his chair at his desk as the room emptied. He thought it over for a moment – you didn’t want to be in his class, and yet you came anyway. Why?

Terzo... He had noticed your absence, questioned the Cardinal over it... Perhaps he’d told you to return to your duties, punished you...

And that was all his fault. He’d upset you so much you’d avoided your duties, hidden yourself away. You were so repulsed by him that you couldn’t even look at him anymore. His sweet, most innocent Sorella…

The Sorella who used to smile at him in the hallways, no matter who she was walking with.

The Sorella who never missed a seminar he was hosting.

The Sorella who only ever confessed on a Thursday, during his duty.

The Sorella who kept stealing glances at him as his brothers performed Black Mass.

Not anymore.

How silly of him to think there was ever any chance you might not hate him. How silly of him to think you might actually be attracted to him, that you could be at all interested in the blithering idiot Cardinale who still reads Beano comics and relaxes with a Juicebox and video games at the end of the working week.

Copia was always brushed to the side, never good enough for a woman as wonderful as you, as beautiful as you.

How daft he felt, and how sick he felt knowing how he had defiled your trust – and continued to do so every. fucking. night. Behind your back, in the shame of his private quarters.

Perverted old Cardinale Copia...

Those moans, oh how he could write a symphony with those moans. They sounded so visceral and somehow so melodic rolling from your tongue as his rolled against your heat. And Sathanas, the taste... he devoured that sweetness like it was his last meal on Death Row. Your hands clutching his hair scraped their nails against his scalp and he growled into your mound with a deep vibration that drew more sweet, sweet moans from your lips.

With two gloved fingers, he breached your walls and with expert precision, he found the spot only you had found yourself – no previous lovers ever able to satiate you like he could. You were his.

His his his.

Even through the leather, he could feel your warmth on his fingers, hear the hungry slurps of your pussy drawing him back in over and over with every pump of his fingers inside you.

“Cardinal... Cardinal....” you chanted like a mantra, eyes screwed shut and breath laboured as he drew you closer and closer to an end, more of your juices seeping out and dripping onto his eagerly lapping tongue, until...

Until...

Sweat beaded on Copia’s forehead as his eyes shot open, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he lay in bed, his skin hot to the touch in the dark around him. His head snapped to the side, seeing the glowing red of his digital alarm clock reading 3:09am.

He rubbed at his paintless eyes, groaning into the dark at the sticky feeling all over his body, the sweat now cooling in the night air and chilling him.

Just a fucking dream.

He could still taste you, still feel you, still hear you... How could he stop this? How would he ever be able to move on from this fucking chokehold you had on him? Does time heal all wounds? Copia sure hoped so.

In the dark, he felt the familiar need in his groin – a stiffness he wouldn’t be able to shake so easily. He didn’t want to, not again. Already he felt like a total degenerate, jacking off to the smell of your used glove a nightly occurrence. But now he was dreaming of you?

With reluctance, he shifted the sheets and let his naked form hit the cold air around him, thick cock standing to attention. He threw an arm over his eyes, his other reaching down until he could lazily stroke the shaft of his shame a few times.

Here we go again, he thought to himself in disgust.

But disgust wasn’t enough to quell the rising lust he felt, and his hand began to pump his length with vigour as he recounted the details of the dream that woke him.

He whimpered into the night, the heavy arm across his eyes shielding himself from his own depravity only getting heavier. His hips started to roll against the mattress, meeting his fist over and over. He couldn’t take this, he wanted so badly to bury himself, to grind down, to feel pressure...

He sat upright, reaching behind him for one of the silk pillows he lay on before. He got up onto his knees, folding the pillow in two to create a crease and pushed it into his mattress, lining his hips up with it.

And like the dirty old cardinal he was, he pushed his cock into the crease, groaning into a tight fist as he did.

He leaned his weight over onto the hand pinning the pillow down and began to roll his hips into the softness, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure as images of you flashed in his mind. That dream, it had felt so... so real? As if he could taste you still, smell you still...

And he could, of course, once his hand had snaked under the remaining pillows to retrieve that damned glove he was far too lazy to hide properly these days. He humped the pillow he buried his cock into like a horny teenager, holding that glove against his nose and mouth as he got faster and faster, inhaling.

“Ohhh, cazzo... (fuck),” he groaned, picturing you beneath him, his cock pistoning in and out of you. How good you’d feel beneath him, how slick, and wet, and warm you’d be for him. The noises from the confessional booth still haunted him, ricocheting off the inside of his skull as he buried himself over and over.

“Sorella... Hmmm,” he hummed, “______, merda (shit).” His hips stuttered, the silk dampened with precum giving just enough friction... He wished it was you so badly, your pussy enveloping him. He craved it, like he couldn’t bear to go on without having you, even if it were just once.

He bit his lip as he growled, hunching over the pillow like an animal and spilling his cum into the crease. His hips slowed, lazily rocking back and forth as he milked the rest of his spend until he could take it not more, letting go of the silk and falling face first into the rest of his bedding, uncaring of the mess beneath him.

Integrating yourself back into the Ministry life hadn’t been nearly as hard as you had thought, managing to avoid the Cardinal everywhere other than that damn seminar. You’d heard him call out to you as you were leaving, but it only made your feet carry you faster past your Siblings and out into the hall to escape. You knew it was cowardly, but you weren’t ready to have to explain yourself to him, to see the disappointment in his face or to chastise you for what you’d coerced him into doing.

You knew today you could evade him, his schedule keeping him busy all day and out of your current hiding place; the library.

You adored this library... The corridors were like a maze, easy enough to get lost in your pursuit of knowledge. In dark nooks, high back leather chairs to read in sat in dim lamplight. Artistic renditions of Satanic teachings littered the ceilings as they might in a Catholic church – except, it was Lucifer who danced through each scene instead of Jesus. Dark wooded desks for studying or translating lined up in the middle of the lobby, two grand staircases winding up the walls opposite each other to the second floor. In between the staircases, was the most beautiful part of all...

On the floor sat a reversed Pentagram, carved into stone with pictures of Lucifer and his most feared animals painted into the ramp where the staircases met – goats, cats, owls, bats... the misunderstood creatures tied to him. Carved into the outer edge of the pentagram sat purple stained Atropa belladonna flowers and vines, and atop the raised pentagram sat a marble statue of a white snake winding around a black pedestal. In the mouth of the snake, stuck between the fangs, was the ripest red apple – a symbol of Lucifer’s temptation, his greatest triumph in the Garden of Eden.

That statue always seemed to steal your breath away, as it did anyone who gazed upon it. The care and attention to detail, the way it always shined in the faux candlelight – real was too dangerous around the ancient texts and antique furniture throughout the library – it was just so spectacular.

It was a beautiful place to spend your day, but it served a purpose today. You chose one of the leather high back chairs just off from the lobby to relax and catch up on some reading you’d neglected in your time spent hiding.

As you neared the end of the book you were studying – an old Catholic tome you struggled to translate from the dusty pages – you decided to find the book that you knew countered the Catholic teachings, so you could cross reference and perhaps understand the old book better.

You stood, taking the Catholic tome with you into the rows of tall bookshelves in search of the Satanic counterpart. It had to be up on the fourth shelf, just out of reach. Sighing dramatically in your own laziness, you reached for the running ladder at the end of the shelves, dragging it along its tracks to the spot you had been standing. You rested the book in your arms on a lower shelf, and starting to climb the rungs of the ladder.

In your haste, the long skirt of your chosen conservative habit – the ones you had taken to wearing every day now that you were to be out and about around the Cardinal again – became trapped under your foot and naturally, you slipped from a few feet off the ground, losing your grip and balance.

Two unassumingly strong arms stopped you before you could hit the marble flooring, wrapping around your waist and tugging you to a body behind you to stop you meeting a rather bruising conclusion. “Careful, Sorella...” the chest you were pressed against vibrated with a deep chuckle. “Pretty girls should not be covered in accidental bruises, eh?”

You stumbled to your feet, straightening out your habit and turning to see Terzo smirking at you, his ghostly eye somehow even more bewitching in the dim lamplight. “Grazie (thank you), Papa... I slipped on...”

“Sì, your habit,” his eyes raked over your form, confusion furrowing on his brow as he remembered the other morning in his office – you'd been wearing something much more to his liking. “I must say, I preferred the shorter one, mia cara . With the red stitching...” he winked.

Your cheeks flushed with heat as you averted your eyes from his.

“Did you only wear that for me, tesoro? ” he winked, taking a step towards you, “Thought it would get you out of trouble, eh?” His teasing flustered you, and you couldn’t string a full sentence together as your heart pounded in your ears, breathing irregular to compensate for the rush of oxygen to your brain. He laughed as you stuttered a denial.

“Speaking of trouble, have you been attending your duties, sorella? Did you go to Copia’s seminar?” he stepped back again out of your personal space, allowing you to breathe normally once again.

“Sì, Papa.”

“And was he... happy to see you?” he asked, arching a brow. His tone confused you, like he expected a specific reaction. But Terzo was fishing... he suspected the Cardinal had a crush and was doing anything he could to put you in Copia’s way. He was making you dance around him, like the carrot on a string to tempt the donkey....

“Uh... I don’t know,” you thought back to the way his face fell when his eyes caught yours, the way his breath caught in his throat and the look of fear as his skin had paled to a grey colour. “Perhaps he was surprised.”

Terzo’s face screwed up in confused annoyance. He’d expected better from the Cardinal, for him to be more welcoming when he so clearly had missed you around the Ministry. He’d asked Terzo to keep an eye out for you, to tell him immediately if he saw you, after all.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back to your schedule, mia cara. But you know,” Terzo had a plan... He enjoyed meddling in the Cardinal’s affairs, and well, anyone’s ... “I must insist you attend confessional before today is out.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. You fought to keep your face neutral, quelling every natural urge to look absolutely petrified of the thought. Because of course he would want you to attend confessional today.

On a fucking Thursday.

“It’s been a while, no? If you were gone for four weeks, you must be overdue?” he quizzed.

“W-well, yes...”

“We can’t have you falling behind, mia cara. I’m sure you have something to confess to the Dark Lord,” he turned on his expensive Cuban heels, “I must go, I have some uh... business to attend concerning a rather beautiful Librarian,” he began sauntering off into the bookshelves, “By tonight, per favore, sorella !” he called out behind him.

Just as before, your shoes echoed on the Ministry floors as you walked to the Chapel. Except tonight, they felt louder and louder, ringing in your ears with each step. Your legs carried you on autopilot, unable to disobey a Papa’s direct instruction.

Why did he choose tonight of all nights? It felt like returning to the scene of a crime... You didn’t know what you were going to say, what you could possibly confess to the Cardinal this evening that you’d done in the last few weeks when quite obviously you hadn’t done anything at all...

The Chapel was steeped in dim candlelight, completely void of any signs of life. You stood in the doorway for a moment, staring like a deer caught in headlights at the booth at the other end of the room. A shiver ran over your spine, a nasty reminder that you were supposed to move, to go and sit in that infernal wooden box next to the source of your embarrassment, your fear... your lust.

Because of course, despite your efforts to pretend he didn’t exist, your brain liked to remind you at night that he most certainly did. Except now, the grunts and groans of his pleasure were accurate, burned into your memory and used against you as a weapon as you slept.

With a push, you entered the Chapel, somehow speed-walking to sit inside the booth beside the Cardinal who jumped at the sound of the door slamming shut a little too hard. You wasted no time.

“Bless me, Cardinal, I have sinned,” you deadpanned.

Beside you, the Cardinal sat bolt upright, eyes staring into his peripheral vision, afraid to make a move and look directly at the shadow beside him. If he made any sudden movements, perhaps you’d disappear in a puff of smoke...

He cleared his throat quietly. “Which of the sins have you committed, Sorella?” He stuck to his duty, as you stuck to yours. He wasn’t about to risk trying to have any other kind of conversation with you right now. Perhaps he could try after...

But what the fuck would he even say to you? He wanted so desperately to apologise, but he couldn’t completely clear his conscience without admitting to everything that’s happened since the last time you sat beside each other in this damned booth. And there was no way he could do that, not without the promise that the ground would open up beneath his feet and plunge him into the deepest pit of hell the second he finished confessing.

Beside him, you waited a moment, trying to think of something to confess to, but your mind was screaming the same thing at you. Lust. Lust. Lust. Lust. LUST.

“Sloth, Cardinal,” you huffed, “I’ve neglected my duties.” Coward, you scolded yourself. Not that it was a lie, of course. But... you couldn’t just own up to the worst of your sins.

Copia’s shoulders relaxed next to him, a sigh leaving his lips. Part of him was terrified you might say lust again – he wasn’t sure he could take that torture.

“Do you wish to elaborate, sorella? Is there a reason for your sloth?” he asked, as if he was trying to hurt himself further. He knew it was him – he was the reason. You were avoiding him, disgusted by him.

“I did something terrible, and... I’ve been hiding,” you admitted. The cardinal was confused... What could you, his sweet sorella, have possibly done that was so terrible? Lucifer, you didn’t mean him? Were you that horrified by him?

“Sorella, there’s no need to hide, you... uh...” he couldn’t think straight, his heartbeat rising in his chest as he panicked. He didn’t know what to say... Almost as if he were to absolve you of your sins but that wasn’t what confessional was for? But he wanted so badly to comfort you, to tell you it was okay, that he was so sorry... So very sorry for putting you in that position all those weeks ago.

And on the other side of the lattice, there you sat, feeling sorry for ever entering the booth that night, for pushing him into such a situation with a member of his congregation, for defiling his position as Cardinal.

Both two different sides of exactly the same coin.

“I... I can’t do this, Cardinal. I’m sorry...” you rushed, pushing your way out of the booth and running through the Chapel. Copia sat for a moment, frozen in shock and disappointment when his body reacted before his mind could.

He got up, and chased you. Out through the Chapel, down the hall where the clacking of your shoes was still echoing off the marble. But he kept running, desperately trying to find you without tripping on his cassock. He had to find you. He couldn’t let you stay like this, so angry and disgusted at him. He needed to apologise, even if that meant admitting to all the rest...

“Sorella, wait!” he called, the halls empty for the time of evening it was. He was grateful, chasing a mere shadow through the halls like a predator on the hunt for his prey. Except that’s the last thing he wanted you to feel; hunted.

You found it too difficult to run in your habit, far too long for you. You cursed as you stumbled, somehow managing to stay on your feet in the pursuit of your dorm but the Cardinal was faster than he looked, and before you knew what had happened you felt a grip on your arm dragging you into a nearby door, letting go as soon as you’d been almost flung into the room.

The door slammed, and the Cardinal stood against it, breathless and looking distraught.

“Cardinal, don’t make me s-” you wanted to apologise, to beg to spare you the shame of saying aloud what you’d been thinking since that first confessional... but he interrupted you. “Sorella, mi dispiace if I frightened you, but I owe you an ap-”

“Cardinal please, I can’t-” “Mia cara, just listen...” he begged, but neither of you could get a word in edgeways.

“I’m sorry, okay? I can’t help it, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable...” you cried, eyes filling with tears as you yelled your sorrows at him. “What? What are you-” his confusion painted his features, hardened lines forming in his face.

“Y-you’ve always been so good to me, and I don’t want to make you feel awkward or put you through that ever again. I should never have made you do that, I’m so ashamed of myself,” you rabbited on, wailing at him with four weeks of pent-up embarrassment spewing out your mouth. But the Cardinal stared at you as the cogs in his brain turned, realising what you were actually apologising for.

“Are you sorry for your dream, mia cara?” he asked you softly, taking a step to stand of his own accord instead of leaning his back against the closed door.

“Yes!” you yelled, “That and... well... what happened. It was too far, I put you in such an uncomfortable position and that’s not fair of me at all. Cardinal please forgive me, I’m trying not to have these thoughts-” “You’re still having them?” his head cocked to the side, eyes squinting as he processed your rantings.

“Well, um... I... yes, but I’m working on it, I’m trying to busy myself with other things and I thought that maybe if I hid for a while that I could stop it, not that I could look you in the eyes again anyway after what I did, and...”

Copia had heard enough. He strode towards you through the rows of desks and chairs surrounding him, pressing the palm of his glove to your mouth to quiet you and in turn, pushing you to lean back against the solid oak desk behind you. “Sorella, please...”

That moment, singularly, was the beginning of your downfall. When you felt the leather of his glove press against your lips, his body pressing against yours as you stumbled back, and you whined against his hand...

Copia’s eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected that at all. His movements were not meant to be at all provocative in nature; he had simply panicked, needing you to hush so he could speak, to apologise and not knowing how else to do so. But now... Well, he could see the crimson colour of your cheeks under his glove, matched with the look of shock on your own face. That noise; it was completely involuntary. But it came from a place of lust... Of submission.

A beat of silence passed between you, the air appearing to be sucked out of the room completely, suffocating you both where you stood. Your screamed at yourself inside your head, cursing how pathetically easily you had succumbed to the slightest touch and showed your hand before any kind of game had truly even begun.

“You must learn when to quiet this pretty mouth of yours and listen...” The cardinal tested his limits, watching your response. He noticed the way your chest rose and fell deeply and slowly beneath him, and how your eyes softened a little as they scanned his face and found no real anger there, only the hint of a smirk. “Now, give me a nod or a shake of your head, eh? I want to ask you a few things. Nod if you understand.”

You nodded, his hand still pressed firmly to your mouth.

“Are you still having these dreams, Sorella?” You shut your eyes now, embarrassed, and slowly nodded your head. “And are you still... enjoying these dreams?” he spoke slowly, deliberately. You nodded again, hesitant.

“And have you acted on these dreams since, tesoro?” You took a few deep breaths before answering again; a slow, ashamed, but deliberate nod.

Copia sucked a lungful of oxygen in through his teeth, watching your eyes on him as he did. His head swam in a dizzying array of images; thoughts of the dream you had told him about in such detail, thoughts of you alone at night thinking of him, touching yourself for him. As he exhaled, he looked away from you, breaking the eye contact you held in fear and finally looking around the room.

The seminar room...

… from your dream.

A wicked smirk spread across the Cardinal’s face, and as you followed his gaze around the room, you realised why. You dare not move, holding your breath as he turned back to you, his beautifully monochrome eyes hooded and boring down into yours.

“It’s here, no?” he asked. You didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. “This is where your fantasia (fantasy) takes place, eh? Answer me, tesoro. ..”

You nodded against his hand again, shame flooding your cheeks with warmth. The stirring in your abdomen was growing the longer he stood pressing you into the desk behind you. It was maddening.

“I press you against this desk in that dream, hm?” he knocked on the wood you leaned on with his free hand, in turn pressing just a little tighter against you. You could feel his body heat through his cassock, and it served to focus your own heat between your legs... “Will you remind me, mia cara , what exactly did I do here?”

Slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth to let you answer him with words – except, you could find none. You stuttered and fumbled as you stared into his eyes, his face so close to yours you could smell his cologne stronger than you ever had. It was utterly intoxicating, a sweet yet smoky aroma.

“Come, now, dolcezza ... Don’t hold out on me now, hm?” The back of his fingers met your cheek, lightly grazing the blush soothingly. “What. Did. I. do?”

There was no escaping this, not that you wanted to. You were so close, your dream practically coming true before you. You may not be able to forgive yourself for pushing your Cardinal over the lines of professionalism all those weeks ago, but here he was, quite obviously flirting with you, enticing you.

Tempting you.

And you would never forgive yourself for fumbling this, for running and hiding once again. And that guilt would be worse, embedded with more shame and embarrassment than ever before.

“You... were kissing me...” you whispered. The Cardinal smiled – not the dirty little smirk from before, more of a satisfactory smile, sweeter.

“Tesoro, I’ll only ask you once – and whatever the answer, I will respect it,” he began, some nerves starting to bubble up in his chest. He feared rejection more than anything, having been rejected his entire life. Could he take it if you rejected him too? He wasn’t sure, but he had to try... “Would you like me to kiss you?”

Your chest bloomed with warmth, eyes flickering down to his half-painted lips and back to his eyes, somehow looking more puppy-dog like as the seconds ticked by. You realised then, he was scared of you saying no. Scared...

But you could never deny your Cardinal.

Words had failed you, that much was clear. And so, you opted for almost involuntary action, slowly leaning forwards against him until your lips barely grazed his. Copia could have sworn he felt his lips tingle where they’d brushed with yours; such a fleeting touch, unsure of yourself but it was all the answer he needed.

He leaned in again, pressing his lips to yours for a kiss that took your breath away... His lips melded into yours with such a longing, both of you easily losing yourself in the moment. Just as in your dream, you sank into him, your hands gripping onto his cassock as he deepened the kiss. His arms had snaked around your waist, pulling your hips flush against him as he hummed into your mouth.

Just as you imagined every night, one of his hands came to remove your veil, letting your hair fall freely while he worked his way past your lips with his tongue, gently mixing with your own as you fell further into him. You whined at the sensation, feeling his hands regroup and tighten on your waist as you did.

He pulled away from you breathless, the black paint of his top lip smudged slightly. He pressed his forehead to yours, searching your eyes for any sign you wanted to back out, but finding nothing.

“You look so beautiful without your veil, dolcezza...” he whispered before he could stop himself. Mentally, he scolded himself for being such a lovesick idiota, but the way you looked into his eyes and smiled was everything he had hoped for. He twirled a strand of your hair in his fingers, watching it as he curled it around the leather. “I had no idea you had all this under there, eh?” he chuckled, “ bellissima (beautiful).”

He dropped the strand and instead came to hold your chin between this thumb and finger.

“Now tell me, what happens next in that dream of yours again?” Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to punch straight through your ribs to get to him. This was happening. This wasn’t you pushing him into anything, you weren’t undermining his authority. He wanted this. He wanted you.

“Your hands... they slide up my habit...” you muttered, shy.

“Like this?” he narrated, crouching momentarily to hook his hand under your habit, trailing slowly up your leg until the skirt hung lopsided around your upper thigh. You nodded at him, watching as his eyes never left yours. “And do I touch you here, mia cara? ” His palm cupped your mound over your panties, and he could feel the searing heat emanating from your core through the leather of his glove.

The noise you made was involuntary – a soft gasp that made his already half-hard length twitch with interest beneath the heavy wool of his clothes. He didn’t wait for you to answer him, his question more of a rhetorical tease. Instead, he slid his hand against you, pressing against your entrance while his palm sat heavy against your clitoris.

“Cardinal...” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to a perfectly round ‘O’.

He continued to tease for a moment, enjoying the soft mewls and sharp breaths you took each time he would alternate the pressure between his palm and his fingers. But he only had so much control, after weeks of pining, of dreaming of you, fucking his damn pillows to the memory and the scent of you.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs and letting them hit the floor around your feet. Without wasting a second or daring to look away from the blissful expression on your face, he dipped his fingers between your folds, dragging them painfully slowly through the mess you had made for him. The choked moan you let out at the sensation of that damned glove sliding through rang out against the stone walls of the seminar room.

Copia collected some of your mess on his glove, lifting his hand into the dim candlelight of the room to see the way it shined. It reminded him of the moment he’d found your sodden glove in the booth, how it left the darker wet marks where he’d held it. Except this time, he was blessed enough to have it right from the source.

“ Splendido... (splendid)” he mumbled, before you opened your eyes to watch him bring his shimmering glove to his lips, tasting what he’d taken. The way he groaned at the sweetness had you clenching around nothing, fisting the cassock you still had such a tight grip on. “I can’t deny myself, dolcezza ... Not anymore.”

Before you had time to linger on his words – not anymore... - he dropped to his knees in front of you, as if ready to worship. He adjusted the skirt of your habit for you to hold around your hips, still covering your modesty for now. Both his hands slid up your thighs, parting them as he slotted in-between, finally coming to uncover you for him.

The way you glistened for him made his concealed erection throb, and as much as he wanted to dive in and devour you whole, he didn’t want to rush this. He’d waited too long to be sloppy here. Instead, he pressed his lips to your inner thighs, enjoying the way they trembled in anticipation. Slowly, he made his way up, his breath tickling and warming the trail of wet he’d left with his tongue.

Finally, his lips pressed against your mound. As painful as it was to have him tease, to gently kiss you where you so desperately needed more, you were grateful for any contact at all after the weeks of anguish believing he held no feelings other than disappointment and disgust for you.

When the Cardinal at your feet finally allowed his tongue to slip between your folds, you couldn’t help the hand that flew to knock his biretta off his head, grasping at the peppered grey hair that grew beneath it. He groaned against you; at your taste, at your heat, at your grip. It was all so wonderfully intoxicating.

As he let himself bury his tongue in you, he lifted one of your thighs over his shoulder for better access for him, and stability for you. He wrapped his arm around that thigh, gripping on for dear life as if you’d disappear on him again. But you were going nowhere anytime soon...

As he mouthed at your clit, he couldn’t help the grunts and groans that rumbled like thunder against you, vibrating through you. You threw your head back in pleasure, uncaring of how loud your moans and whimpers were.

When Copia started to slide his middle finger through your folds below his tongue, you almost collapsed back onto the desk. He pressed against your entrance, slowly allowing his leather-clad finger to slide inside you. He never stopped his tongue, never came up for breath.

When he had his ring finger join the other, you began to see stars. He filled you so well, scissoring inside you and curling up towards that glorious spot inside you that no other had ever found.

“C-Cardinal... ahh,” you whimpered. It fuelled him further, hearing his title fall from your lips above him. It was all too much for him; your taste, your grip. And now that? Oh, how sinful it sounded, how beautiful, like the prettiest songbird singing its morning melody.

He was ashamed to admit that what you were doing to him had such a tight grasp on his sanity, he was losing himself in his mind and his body was following suit. While he had no friction, no pressure, nothing to help the painful need in his crotch, he was so close...

In his reverie, he lifted your other thigh over his shoulder, burying his face further into you as he continued using his fingers to bring you closer and closer to the edge. You had to grip the desk under you to steady yourself, allowing his animalistic urges to take total control of your body. This was nothing like your dream.

This was so much better.

His tongue lavished against your clit unforgivingly, lips circling and suckling from time to time as he drank you in.

“F-fuck, Cardinal... I can’t,” you begged for nothing above him, so close to the edge, dangling by a splintering branch over a deep canyon that was ready to snap at any moment. You couldn’t help the way you bucked your hips anymore, or the way you ground your pussy down into his face, his nose becoming a tool for pleasure as much as his tongue, lips and chin.

That splintering branch snapped clean off when he growled into you, and suddenly you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, back slamming down into the hard wood of the desk behind you. If you felt any pain at all, it didn’t show – you were too busy writhing and squeezing your thighs around poor Copia’s head.

What you didn’t know, was that the growl that had pushed you into your earth-shattering orgasm had been a growl not only of lust, but of anger. At himself.

Beneath you, Copia was squeezing your thigh with the hand that wasn’t buried inside you, desperately trying to stop himself... But his poor, untouched cock had violently flinched beneath his cassock before spilling a hot load of his seed. Copia had cum just from eating you out.

If he didn’t feel like a pathetic pervert before tonight, he certainly did now. Who cums from just going down on a woman?

Oh, but you were not just any woman, were you? Not to him. You were the woman he pined over, stressed over, cried over, came over every fucking night for four wretched weeks. What it was about you, he wasn’t sure, but the Cardinal had never been so besotted with a woman in his life. Dare he say it, it had started long before that night in the confessional booth... He had been drawn to you since the day you took your vows.

And no, he just couldn’t help himself.

You lay on the desk, catching your breath and waiting for your head to stop spinning as your limbs went lifeless around him, one slipping from his shoulder. He detached himself from your core and stood up, readjusting himself in his pants for a more comfortable position now that the wet patch in his underwear was beginning to seep through to bloom into a deep red stain on his cassock. But there was no getting comfortable with his softening cock confined and covered in his own spend.

He stepped towards you, between your legs and reached for your hand with the glove that wasn’t still glistening with your arousal. He lifted it to his completely smudged lips, peppering the back of it with chaste kisses as you came to.

“Mia cara... are you... okay?” he mumbled between kisses. You hummed an affirmative response back, your mind still foggy in post-orgasm haze.

Copia continued peppering kisses to the back of your hand, to each fingertip, your wrist, a little way up your arm and back down as he waited patiently for you to come back around to him. Eventually, you sat up, pushing your habit down to cover your modesty once again. He held your hand in his, gazing up into your eyes with a soft expression you couldn’t quite read.

When you really looked at him, you couldn’t help but giggle. His paint was smudged around his mouth, a grey hue painting him from his nose to his chin, and his hair was so dishevelled he looked as if he had been dragged through a hedge.

“What’s so funny, cara ?” he smiled with you, the kind of smile you can’t keep off your face when someone you adore is laughing near you.

“You look a mess,” you laughed, smoothing out the parts of his hair that were sticking up.

“Ah, sì, you have quite a grip,” he chuckled, looking away for a moment, suddenly bashful. “I trust that was not so bad, eh?” he bit his lip as he waited for your response, a little smug smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Better than my dream, Cardinal,” you shyly admitted. “But um... my dream doesn’t end there...”

Copia’s smile dropped, realising what you were hinting at. You weren’t done yet... You wanted more from him. But in order to perform, he would have to reveal what you so far had missed.

Before he could protest, your hand was cupping his bulge under his cassock, but as you pressed your palm there, your eyes grew wide, and your gaze dropped to look at what you’d felt.

Wet.

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...”

Someone had stoked the dissipating fire inside you once again, and a flame began to burn. You weren’t sure if it was knowing that Copia had cum in his pants at the taste of you, or if it was his dumbstruck look as he tried to rectify the situation with words but knowing he had been so enamoured with you that he’d reached his end even whilst neglected... that was hotter than you could have ever imagined.

“What was it, Cardinal?” you interrupted him. He silenced quickly, cocking his head in confusion. “Was it how I sounded?” You pressed your palm to the soft bulge beneath you, not at all bothered by the wet fabric.

“Was it how I tasted?” you asked, your confidence growing as his eyes widened in shock.

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” The heel of your palm dug into him, rotating in a small circle over his cock.

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” You heard him moan softly as you stared into his eyes. His cock was beginning to twitch in interest again.

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”

That did it. Without a word, the man before you wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you to him to crash your lips together. You’d awoken something inside him, a beast that he’d been keeping tame until now. Between desperate clashes of lips and tongues, Copia began to tease you back.

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?” he panted against your lips like a dog in heat, “it was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you,” he paused for another heated kiss, “ finally tasting what I’ve been desiring for so long,” and another, “but that I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”

You whimpered at his words, knowing every single one was no lie. But hearing Copia call you his had you arching your back to press against him, your hips desperately seeking him out and your lips messily found his again.

Terzo yawned as he walked down the halls of the ministry, the days of solid paperwork and papal duties - not the mention his library rendezvous earlier that day... - catching up to him as he slogged back to his quarters. The halls were dark, silent. He didn’t rush – he didn’t have the energy to. His mind wandered as he dawdled, taking in the stained glass around him with every step he took.

He rounded a corner, and thought he could hear shuffling coming from inside one of the seminar rooms. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the thought of having to put on his big scary Papa voice and tell whoever was out of bounds this late to go back to their dorms. Why did they make him work so hard, eh?

As he drew closer to the door of a room he presumed was the one inhabited, he heard voices. He reached for the doorknob, until the voices registered, and he realised... These were voices he recognised...

“Uh... mi dispiace, sorella... (I’m sorry, sister...) I... I couldn’t, um...” Was that Cardinal Copia he heard stammering away in there like a moron? Well, as a higher up member of the clergy, he was okay to be out of bounds at this hour. Terzo shrugged to himself and started to turn away from the door – whatever the Cardinal was up to in there was his business. And frankly, Terzo was too tired to even realise he had been speaking to someone...

“What was it, Cardinal?” Terzo stopped, his brows pulling together in thought. That had sounded like you, Sister _____? What would she be doing alone with the Cardinal at this hour?

Terzo was now intrigued, and hung around for a moment.

“Was it how I sounded?” What on earth was she talking about?

“Was it how I tasted?” Terzo’s eyes widened, his jaw falling open. Had he heard that right?

“Was it how I pulled your hair?” This was not the same Sorella _____ he knew, surely not? Such filth spilling from her mouth... He almost felt a swell of pride in his chest.

“Was it, how my thighs tightened around your head?” Terzo all but jumped with giddiness at the door, keeping himself as quiet as possible to not alert those inside. He heard the Cardinal moan the most pathetic little sound, and slapped his gloved hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Oh, fratellino, you are down BAD...

“Or was it how my pussy clenched around your fingers?”

Terzo’s hand dropped when his jaw hit the floor, completely taken aback by your brazen use of such a sinful phrase. He’d clearly stumbled upon something already in motion... Suddenly, he heard a quick shuffle, followed by a suppressed moan from you and a hungry growl from the Cardinal. Terzo jumped away from the door as if it had burst into flames.

Now, Terzo was certainly a pervert. But he was not about to eavesdrop on his brother fraternising with a sister of sin. He recoiled at the thought, shivering as he backed away to the far wall of the opposite corridor. He stood frozen for a moment, his body not reacting anywhere near fast enough.

“You want to know what it was, tesoro?.... It was the thought that not only did I have you right where I wanted you... but I had infiltrated this pretty little head of yours, corrupted the sweetest of all the sorelle... I got to make you, mine...”

That did it. Terzo turned and bolted down the corridor to get away from the lip-smacking sounds and the whines you let slip.

As he rounded the corner and managed to get away from the noises that frankly would now haunt him in his dreams, he couldn’t help but feel a little... proud.

That had been his doing. He’d pushed them together, forced them into each other’s presence knowing how absolutely pitiful and sciocco (foolish) the pair of you were being. Terzo certainly wasn’t blind – he'd seen the Cardinal’s affections, saw how your absence had affected him so. Now he was beginning to think your disappearance may even have had to do with him, in some way. Avoiding him, perhaps?

Not that it mattered. For now, he was proud that his fratellino was making a move – however mentally scarring that move had been to overhear.

And he told you that you were his, too. The meaning of that may have been lost in the moment, but it certainly wasn’t lost on Terzo. Copia meant that with every fibre of his being.

He smiled to himself as he continued to walk to his chambers. For all the teasing and all the jokes Terzo made at Copia’s expense as they were growing up, he had to admit, he turned out alright in the end. His goofy little half-brother who kept his secret Beanos and drank his little juice boxes. He chuckled to himself – he certainly was proud of him. And finally, someone else saw him for more than a bumbling idiot. Someone finally didn’t underestimate him the way the rest of the ministry did.

“Ben fatto (good job) , Terzo,” he smirked to himself. His little plan had worked; albeit, far sooner than expected, and just a little too well.

He would be working hard this evening to forget what he’d just overheard...

Copia’s grip on your thighs around his hips tightened as he deepened your kiss, the leather of his gloves tightening and squeaking over his taught hands. You were sure he would leave bruises with how hard he held you, pulling you flush against him until your core pressed against his hardening length. You didn’t care though; any mark he left on you was like a badge of honour.

“Dolcezza, what do you want from me, eh?” he pleaded, breathless as he trailed open mouthed kisses along your jaw and to your neck, never once disconnecting his lips along the way.

“All of you, Cardinal...” you practically sang, “ please...”

He hummed against your neck, lost entirely to his visceral need to devour you whole. You threaded your hands in his hair again, holding him tight to you as you let your head fall back, enjoying the kisses, the nips and bites, the suckling against your skin that bloomed in beautiful red and purple patches.

Copia stood upright for a moment, biting at the leather on his right hand to free himself of his glove and spitting it to one side before he lay his palm on your cheek. He drank you in with his eyes, hooded and blown out with lust. You nuzzled into him instinctively searching out his touch, your lips finding his thumb to pepper kisses to the tip. It felt oddly intimate, more so than having his face buried between your thighs.

No one ever saw the Cardinal – or any clergy member, for that matter – without their gloves. Their bare touch was saved for those they devoted it to, and here he was, baring himself to you .

You pressed a final kiss to his thumb, before allowing your tongue to lave over the pad of it, your lips following to engulf his thumb in the warmth of your mouth. Copia hummed in front of you, his other hand squeezing your thigh tightly as he watched.

“Cosa ho fatto per meritarti, tesoro? (What did I do to deserve you, sweetheart?)” he groaned, pushing his thumb to smear your spit over your lips, adoring the way they glistened for him in the low light. “I want to give you all of me,” he slid his hand to your neck, a wet trail left along your skin by the saliva still on his thumb, and gripped tight enough to send a wave of excitement through you. “Every last inch...”

You whined for him again, as your body seemed to do of its own accord, and let him capture your lips in another kiss. You could no longer stand it – you needed him, like the moon needs the sun to glow brightly in the night.

Hastily, you reached for the buttons of his cassock, making quick work of them until he could shrug out of the heavy red wool and let it fall to the floor. He helped you then, to remove his jacket underneath while you focussed on freeing his length.

“A little messy, mi dispiace ,” he smirked, not sorry at all for the mess he’d made when he now knew how much that had turned you on. On another occasion, you would have liked to sink to your knees, clean him up and ready him for what came next but there was no time for that. Messy or not, you simply needed him.

You didn’t even attempt to remove his pants, instead pushing them just a little further down his hips to allow you to reach into his underwear and take him in your hand. He hissed through his teeth like you’d scalded him, but instead rocking his hips to chase your touch. He had been correct, there was certainly a mess in there – one that coated your hand as you pulled his erection free and pumped along his length once, twice...

“ Cazzo... (Fuck...)” he groaned.

As your hand moved, you let your eyes wonder over his body, half exposed to you now. The physique you had dreamed of wasn’t far off, except he had a little more muscle definition than your imagination had given him credit for, particularly in the two lines that framed his abdomen, leading down to where your hand worked him over. But what caught your eye most of all, was the strange tattoo that sat over his heart, hidden by a thin layer of grey-speckled chest hair.

Three 6’s, in a spiral, marked into his chest for eternity. Your free hand traced the black lines, fingertips grazing over it making him shiver at your touch. You didn’t ask about it, there was no need. He had kept it covered, hidden from knowledge of anyone else until right now – you were the only person he ever wanted to be this vulnerable to. Someday though, you might ask him about that...

Copia moved to remove his other glove, letting it drop to the floor beside him with the rest of his garments. His red pants still clung to his thighs, and he struggled to draw his eyes away from where your hand stroked his cum-covered cock lazily.

With one long, drawn out stroke back up his length, you lifted your hand – smeared in his mess – and pressed two of your fingers to your tongue, sucking the mess from them as you held his eye contact. His expression darkened, baring his teeth to you like an animal as he smirked, watching you lick and suck every last bit of his essence from your hand. A fire raged within you, like lava spewing through your veins at the quiet yet guttural groan he unleashed.

In a flash, he was dragging you to the edge of the desk where you sat, both hands burrowing into the soft flesh of your hips. His hips slowly rocked against you, cock dragging through the plentiful juices you’d left for him. You hummed at the feeling of some contact, particularly the feeling of the veins and ridges of his hardness. You needed him inside you, filling you. You couldn’t drag this out anymore; it was like torture. Worse than torture.

“Please, Cardinal...” you begged. And how could he deny you when you’d asked so nicely?

“Kiss me, bella,” he huffed, his focus snatched away by the hypnotising sight of his cock sliding through your folds as he teased. It was as if he could only be diverted by your lips, that he couldn’t drag his attention away voluntarily.

You grabbed him by the jaw with one hand, crushing your lips to his desperately. He growled again, the weeping head of his cock catching on your entrance and slowly, finally, he began to push inside...

Your jaw went slack, kiss long forgotten as your eyes squeezed shut and you let out a staggered moan into his mouth.

“ Sono qui, tesoro... (I’m here, sweetheart...)” he assured, holding your hips flush to him with a hand on the small of your back. He struggled to keep himself still, buried to the hilt and desperate to move, but you needed a moment. The feeling was overwhelming, stretched to the brink of pain and pleasure, dangling dangerously there as you got used to him.

It was a true testament to his self-control and his character that he waited for you – as soon as his length had been buried in your tight, wet warmth he thought he was a goner. He figured that this was it – this was the glorious afterlife he’d been promised, that he prayed to Lucifer for day in, day out.

Having you pressed against him grounded him as much as he needed. He watched the expression on your face, waiting for any sign of discomfort, of regret. He found none, because there was none to give. His lips hovered above yours, enjoying the warmth of your breath as you moaned for him.

You were wearing too many clothes still for his liking; he wanted to be unbearably close to you, to feel the warmth of your skin on his, see you in all your glory. Still buried deep inside you, he used one of his hands to unbutton your habit, slowly revealing more flesh to him, kissing down your exposed chest until he could reach no further down.

He was so gentle with you, so patient. He fought the urges to thrust into you, to take what he so desperately wanted from you. He simply wanted this to be perfect, and the thought had your eyes glazing with an adoration that went beyond a silly little wet dream.

As your own way of signalling you were okay, you wanted more, you shimmied out of your now open habit, letting it pool around you where you sat, and pulled the straps of your bra down, unclipping it at the back.

He watched your slow movements, tracing patterns on your skin with his fingertips. “ Più bella di quanto avrei mai potuto immaginare (more beautiful than I ever could have imagined),” he whispered, pressing his lips to your sternum, feeling your heart beating against him. If only he had known he felt this way, that it was more than just lust – if he had admitted that to himself...

“ Copia ...” you whined, the first time you’d called him by his name all evening... His heart swelled, smiling against the swell of your breast between kisses. “ Per favore, h-ho bisogno d-di te... (Please, I need you...)” you stuttered in broken Italian, piecing together bits you had picked up in your time in the Ministry, but he knew – oh , he knew what you were saying.

“ Qualsiasi cosa per te, amore mio (anything for you, my love),” he replied, sweetly pressing his lips to yours as he cradled your face in his hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck and sunk into him, only for him to begin moving his hips, slowly pulling back from where he had been buried deep within your warmth for a few minutes now at least...

You mewled into his kiss, letting your tongues dance together so beautifully. It wasn’t until he had slid almost completely away from you that he pushed his way back in, gliding almost effortlessly in the slick you’d created for him. He built his movements over a few slow thrusts, gradually setting a pace that would never bring you to any kind of climax, but enough that the two of you were swirling in pleasure, able to enjoy your first moments anchored together.

Copia’s lips never left yours, not to allow moans the freedom to escape or to allow his lungs the freedom to breathe. You were totally, utterly enamoured with each other.

With every roll of his hips, you edged closer and closer to a point of begging for more, begging for a means to an end. He was struggling to keep himself composed, too scared to frighten you off if he unleashed what had built inside him for the last four weeks.

“Copia, m-more... please...” you begged, finally separating the two of you to hazily look in his beautifully distinct eyes, show him the desperation in your own.

“Amore, if I let go, I’m not sure I can control myself...” he warned, still forcing himself to stay at the pace he’d set.

“Then lose yourself, Cardinal... Take me,” you offered yourself to him, trusting completely that he would never do anything you didn’t desperately want yourself.

With no further encouragement needed, and a whisper of “ Cazzo, Sathanas perdonami ... (fuck, Sathanas forgive me...) ” he picked up his pace, effortlessly sliding into you over and over until the tops of his thighs were smacking into the underside of yours. The sounds ricocheted off the stone walls around you, a sinful mix of whines, pants, grunts and skin slapping on skin swirling in the air around you.

The hands laying loose around his shoulders slid into his hair, pulling tight to press his forehead to yours. The desk beneath you groaned and creaked under the force, scraping along the floors with each hit. Your Cardinal’s cock filled you so deliciously, his hips angled to hit the back of your cervix and the top of your pussy where that tantalising sweet spot lay.

“I wanted you for so long, amore mio...” he confessed, “so completely, like un patetico bastardo (a pathetic bastard).” He grit his teeth together, grunting like an animal as he fucked into you. He fought the urge to push you back down against the desk and lift your thighs up, spreading you open as much as possible for him, wanting to savour the closeness, the way he could feel your breath beading in condensation on his neck.

“S-six months...” It was your turn to confess. “I’d b-been dreaming of... you... for six months...” you cried out as he slammed into you harder, fuelled by your admission.

“ Bella , you’ll be the end of me, eh?” he chuckled between pants of breathlessness. “ Adesso sono tutto tuo (now I’m all yours...)”

The coil in your abdomen wound impossibly tighter, threatening to fracture at any moment with the way he rolled his hips up into you, filling you deliciously with each pistoning motion. You felt the ripples from each violent thrust over and over against your clit where his body met yours, and the way his nails dug into your flesh, no doubt leaving bruises with deep crescent shapes imprinted in your skin.

“C-can’t... hold...” you could barely string a sentence together in your current state, “ fuck...”

“Cum for me, amore. Cum for your Cardinal, eh?” he roared. And well, you couldn’t stop yourself if you wanted to.

Fire spread from your core through every nerve ending, spanning your entire body and you squealed and writhed against him. He never faltered, not missing a single beat as you shook and spilled around his cock. The way your walls fluttered around him, squeezed him impossibly tighter made every thrust a struggle, but he fought it – he couldn’t let you down now.

He tensed his body, staving off another orgasm as long as he possibly could. He wanted you to revel in yours, wanted to watch you come undone on his cock like he’d dreamed of so many times. A litany of profanities and mumblings of his name spilled in incoherent babble as your limbs turned to jelly, barely clinging onto him to stay upright. If you were to fall back or forward, you were to choose forward, slumping against his sweaty chest, your head sitting where his neck met his shoulder.

In your tired and overstimulated state, all you could do for him was mouth at the skin there, leaving sloppy kisses while your pussy continued to pulse around him until eventually, he gripped your chin tightly to lift your head and crash his lips to yours. He growled into your mouth, hips stuttering and slowing – he had cum inside you, needing to taste you again as he did so.

With his final few thrusts, his spend leaked from around his cock, mixing with your own climax. He punctuated each thrust with a hum of satisfaction, until he couldn’t take the movement anymore, his cock too sensitive to continue. Still, he didn’t remove himself. Not yet...

Somehow you both slumped together, keeping each other upright with your body weight alone. Your chests rose and fell together, trying to regulate your breathing to have an opportunity to speak at all. But honestly? The pair of you were happy in your blissful silence together for a moment.

After a few minutes, it was you who spoke first.

“I thought you would hate me...” you sighed against his shoulder. Copia’s brows furrowed together, and he stood himself up removing his softening length from you, holding you by your shoulders to get a good look at you.

“Why would you ever think that, amore mio?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“I thought I had overstepped, that night in the confessional. I thought you were ashamed, disgusted...” you drooped your head in sadness at the memory of him excusing you so abruptly that evening.

“No... not with you, never you , tesoro,” he assured. “At myself, sì? I assumed you would despise how I took advant-”

“Cardinal no, you didn’t... Sathanas, we’re both really stupid, aren’t we?” you chuckled, shaking your head at your antics. “Idioti innamorati (idiots in love),” he laughed, until he realised what he’d actually just said – and then the colour drained from his face, his eyes blowing out wide in horror.

You smiled softly, taking his hands from your shoulders and pulling him to take a step closer to you. “Idioti innamorati,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to the end of his nose, still greyed from the smudging of his paints. Copia smiled sheepishly, a warmth spreading in his chest. He hadn’t felt like this before, much less ever had someone reciprocate his feelings. He felt strangely at peace, more so than he ever had.

“Tesoro, promise me something, eh?” he asked. You nodded, willing him to continue. “Never hide from me again, okay? I damn near lost my mind.”

You laughed at your idiocy. “I promise, Cardinal.” You leaned forward to press your lips against his, sweetly capturing the moment in a blissful kiss.

When you pulled apart, he wordlessly helped to gather the garments that had been carelessly removed and dressed you again. You exchanged jokes about the messes you both were, how vile it felt to put your clothes back on with the feeling of your spend seeping from you and his still damp in his underwear... How truly ridiculous you both were.

“Come, bella. I have a rather large shower cubicle I think we can both put to good use,” he flirted, pulling you to him by your waist now you were both fully dressed. You agreed, taking him by the hand and wondering through the corridors together back to the clergy suites.

“Besides, I have something of yours I feel I must give back...” Copia laughed at himself, somehow no longer afraid to admit what he had been up to in your absence when he knew now just how depraved your own mind could be.

Your mind ticked over at what on earth he could possibly mean, until it dawned on you... You had lost your fucking glove.

“ You pervert!” you accused, smacking his chest playfully as you walked. “Maybe I don’t want it back, Lucifer knows what you’ve done with that thing...” The two of you giggled and flirted your way back, uncaring and unaware of any prying ears that may hear voices late into the night.

And there were indeed prying ears, albeit accidentally, that perked up at the sound of voices outside his chambers...

Terzo sat on his couch with a glass of vintage red in his hand, attempting to read a book to take his mind off the sinful noises he’d heard from his fratello earlier that evening. When he recognised the noises, he groaned to himself.

‘Must they parade around to remind me of that?’ he thought to himself, rolling his eyes and standing to look through the peephole of his door. He saw the two of you waltzing through the dimly lit corridor, hand in hand like teenagers. The dopey look on his brother’s face was, to him, a wonderful sight; so hopelessly enamoured with you as you giggled and laughed together into the night.

He had always hoped Copia would find someone like you – perhaps that’s why you were the one sister he never tried to bed, the one he felt was off limits to him. Maybe he had always known... but he was glad to see his fratellino acting like himself in your presence. Goofy, dopey Copia. Perhaps now, he could stop looking for approval from those he looked up to and looked down on him, and focus his efforts on simply being himself. After all, he had now found someone who liked him for who he was, not who he hoped to be .

“Idioti innamorati,” he muttered to himself, chuckling at his win.

Sì, his fratellino could be himself now – however pathetic he may be... FIN

A/N: I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing this. This may be my first Ghost fic, but it will NOT be my last - so if you'd like to stick around for more, I'd be incredibly grateful. Send me some head canon requests or some drabble prompts - I'm MORE THAN HAPPY to do those for you. Endless love, Bee 🖤 TAG LIST: @melvilless @copiasprincipessa @siouxbauhaus @edensbuttercups @daughter0fcain @xnothingpersonalx @assassinprocrastinator @funfetti-furby @kadedoesthings @sunbleached-ghoul @gravehags @gbatesx @solluna00 @mae-mei-m @bolliancat @ghulehsin @socksandcr0cs @girlwithissuesworld @fallen-angelito @maccery @wjyndigo @thew0man @a-fools-circus @luxavier @saintedcooper @whatawonderfulexistence--blog @calamity-queen @eternaltiare @moongoore @wagooo @dolceterzo @emeritusing @letstalkstories @sacred-coffin @rainstorms-library @ryos-cruddy-side-blog @fruitmanstyles @relentlessmoon @cardinal-copingmechanism @werich @strawberriiblossoms @evepeve @portaltothevoid @casualghostfan @copias-juicebox @sl1psth3magg0t @enchantedbunny @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

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luminoustarlight · 1 year

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Had It Up To Here | Anakin Skywalker

After an argument, Anakin's patience with you has grown thin.

Very, very loosely inspired by the lyric "I've had it up to here" in the song Just A Girl by No Doubt

rating: explicit | pairing: anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 4.6k | read on ao3 warnings: SMUT [dom!anakin, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, cream pie], dirty talk, jealousy, flirting

i hope you enjoy my first ani smut. there's more to come (hehe) :)

If you’ve never received the cold shoulder from Anakin Skywalker, consider yourself lucky.

It all started two days ago after he and Obi-Wan retrieved you from Nal Hutta. Your mission was successful so you weren’t quite sure why Anakin had looked so… displeased when he saw you. Of course, you didn’t expect him to greet you with open arms, given that Obi-Wan had accompanied him on the trip. But the scowl on his face was enough to make your very exposed skin prickle with goosebumps. And that’s when you realized— you didn’t have a chance to change into your everyday threads before you met Ani and Obi-Wan at the extraction point. You were still wearing a rather scantily clad ensemble, one that certainly would’ve had Anakin jumping out of his pants if you two were alone.

“You did well,” Obi-Wan praised. “I can imagine you were quite alluring to the Hutts.” Obi-Wan’s tone was playful, knowing just how magnetic you can be. In contrast to Obi-Wan’s friendliness, a deep-set frown had made itself comfortable on Anakin’s face. He didn’t like what you were wearing and he definitely didn’t like Obi-Wan making light of it. Your secret boyfriend shrugged off his own robe and threw it over your shoulders.

“Thank you, Anakin,” you said. Anakin replied with an unpleased grunt. Even after Obi-Wan settled himself in the cockpit and you two were alone, he didn’t hug you or kiss you or even act like he was happy to see you. “What, you don’t like my outfit, Ani?”

“No.” His tone was clipped.

“Really?” you smirked, opening his robe, revealing your bare torso and accentuated breasts. “I really thought you would have.”

“That’s enough,” Anakin said, shutting down your flirtatious smile. “We’ll discuss this later.”

Then off he went to join Obi-Wan in the cockpit, not saying another word to you until you were in your private chambers.

Hours. It seemed like you and Anakin were having a conversation about your outfit on Nal Hutta for hours. As a Republic spy, you have no issue with becoming the character the mission requires you to be. Most of the time you’re invisible. After all, that’s the point of being a spy, isn’t it? However, you were far from invisible when the job required you to weed your way through the Hutt Clan. It made Anakin’s blood boil to know that your beautiful body, which should only be reserved for him, was exposed to some of the slimiest scum in the galaxy.

Of course, your bodily autonomy is your own. And Anakin knows this. But you are also his and because nobody actually knows that you’re his, he doesn’t particularly enjoy when anyone gets to admire you and not face repercussions. He has to consciously remind himself not to stare at you during meetings and briefings. He can’t tell you you’re beautiful, he can’t kiss you whenever he pleases and it drives him mad. Because of this, you two have become quite the experts at stealing kisses in empty hallways, locking pinkies in passing to silently say I love you.

You had been looking forward to taking a nice bath to decompress. Maybe open a bottle of wine. And you wanted to do that with Anakin. It was abnormally quiet for him on the war front so he’d been given a couple days off. But Anakin just can’t seem to let go of your disagreement about what is appropriate for you to wear. Spoiler alert: you can wear whatever the stars you want and he just has to deal with it. Because you’re both too stubborn and petty for your own good, you’ve decided to dress up in a nice, form-fitting emerald dress with triangle cuts on the sides of your waist, meeting to a point over your belly button.

Anakin is sitting in the lounge, flicking through the HoloTV. He’s hardly said a word to you since you ended your argument last night with, “You don’t control me, Anakin.”

While that might be true in almost every sense, there is a different persona Anakin often takes on when you’re intimate. And he would venture to say that he is in full control of you in the bedroom.

When you emerge from your sleeping quarters, you swear you can hear his heart stop. He promptly turns off the TV and reaches you in five quick steps. You’re securing your earring, tilting your neck to show off the supple skin Anakin loves to nip and kiss so dearly. You’ve put on the perfume that makes your skin shimmer in the light, making you look like his very own angel. Anakin squares his hips against you, backing you into the wall. “Where are you going?”

You look up at him through thick eyelashes. Your lips are coated in a clear gloss, all tantalizing and tempting, probably the one that tastes like pears. “Out,” you reply. You escape from Anakin’s blockade to head towards the door, but not before he grabs your forearm with his gloved hand.

You know he’s dying to kiss you, to have you right there up against the wall. But Anakin doesn’t cave that easily. We’re back to that stubbornness you two share. “Without me?” Anakin grits.

You let out something between a scoff and a chuckle. “If you’re not going to talk to me then I figured I’d go out and have a drink at Helios. I’m sure there are plenty of people willing to talk to me there.” You mean to flirt with. Harmless flirting, of course. You and Anakin only do it to rile the other up. You don’t do it often, what with the continuous war going on, the two of you don’t find yourselves socializing with civilians all that regularly.

“Watch it,” he warns, his grip on you tightening. You look down to where his leather fingers are wrapped around your arm. It’s a strong hold. Just say the word and I’ll let go, Anakin conveys through softened eyes.

“Watch me walking away from you and out of the door.” You snatch your arm away from Anakin. You take fast and confident steps so he knows you mean business and open the front door. “Don’t wait up for me.”

Anakin stands in the foyer with his jaw and fists clenched. He lets you walk away, mainly because he knows he’s been acting like a prick. He knows you’re right. He knows you were doing your job and not purposefully drawing attention to yourself by what you were wearing. And so what if you were? You can wear whatever you want. Stars, most of the time Anakin loves seeing you dressed up or in next to nothing.

And truthfully, Anakin loved what you were wearing when he picked you up from Nal Hutta. It was Obi-Wan’s comment that put him in a foul mood over it. Just two words, the same word repeated twice, actually. “My, my,” was all the older gentleman muttered. Anakin hated that his Master could make such a comment about you without anyone being suspicious of his intentions or feelings. If Anakin had made the same comment, with that same suggestive tone, he’d be in deep Bantha fodder.

Anakin thinks about this next move. Do you truly want space? Or is this just a little foreplay? Afterall, he still hasn’t kissed you. Maker, what is wrong with him? All he ever wants to do is kiss you, taste you, wrap you up in his arms and never let go. Because you are his and only his.

He’s made his decision. He’s going to Helios.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Helios is one of the nicer clubs downtown. It doesn’t usually attract the wrong crowd, making you feel safe whenever you go alone or meet with friends. It’s not like you can’t protect yourself should anything happen, though. It’s one of Anakin’s favorite things about you: your precise marksmanship and dexterity with a knife. Not to mention your mean uppercut.

The crowd is booming, but not enough so that your laugh can’t be heard by Anakin when he walks into the club. His eyes immediately track you to the bar, elbows on the counter, laughing at something the Twi’lek on your right must’ve said. The routine pit of jealousy begins building in his stomach. It’s been a while since you two have played this game. He can’t remember if he loves it or hates it. He loves knowing that the men who want you can’t actually have you. He loves knowing that he’s the one who will be fucking you— or making love to you depending on the day— at the end of it all. That you are his and only his. But damn it, does he hate watching someone else make you laugh. Especially when he’s done so little of that since you got home.

Anakin comes up behind you and places his left hand on your back, not so subtly pushing himself between you and the Twi’lek. “Pardon me,” he says.

You straighten your back. You knew he’d come get you. His jawline looks impossibly sharp under the lavender light in the club. His hand is warm on your back, fingertips digging into the exposed flesh of your torso. “Hello, Anakin. I was having rather nice conversation with Vik before you interrupt us. Say hello to Vik, Anakin.”

Anakin does no such thing and orders a shot of something strong instead.

“Sorry, are you two…” Vik waves a finger between you and Anakin.

You reply in unison, although your answer is “no” and Anakin’s is “yes”.

It is never “yes” because you never know who might be listening. Anakin must really be peeved.

Vik’s flirty eyes turn frightful. “Listen, I don’t want any part in a lovers quarrel.”

You place your hand over Vik’s. “We’re not lovers, Vik. Anakin is just a friend.”

Anakin downs his shot. It burns going down, but no more than hearing you call him your friend. He’s too touch-starved to play this game any longer. His hold on you is possessive, but clearly not enough for you to get the message.

“You might wanna tell him that,” Vik hooks his thumb at your boyfriend.

“I insist, Vik,” your voice wavers only so much that Anakin would notice. You can’t keep up this act much longer. Not with one drink already in your system and Anakin’s hand searing into your skin. “He’s just here for a drink. I’d much rather continue our conversation. Anakin, would you mind leaving us?”

“Yes, I mind,” Anakin replies sternly.

“Excuse me?” you blink at him. His blue eyes are drowning in darkness and you hesitate to say your next thought. Biting the inside of your cheek, you decide to say it anyway. “I kindly asked you to leave. I’d like to have another drink with Vik.”

That’s it. He’s at the end of his fuse. Anakin turns to the Twi’lek, persuasion laced through his voice. “You want to go home. You’re not feeling well.”

Vik promptly stands up from the stool. “I want to go home. I’m not feeling well.”

“Anakin,” you say tentatively, knowing you’re in trouble.

“I’ve had it up to here with you,” Anakin puts his hand above his head to show just how far you’ve tested his patience. “Let’s go.”

You obey, making your way out of the club with Anakin’s hand still on your back. “I don’t want to hear a word from you until we get home,” he says into your ear. His hot breath makes you shudder. You nod and silently get into the speeder.

Like the bubbles in a bottle of sparkling wine, excitement fizzes beneath your skin. You can’t wait for what Anakin has in store for you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As directed, you are silent until you enter your apartment. Which is really your shared apartment with Anakin when he’s not a the Temple. Little pieces of your Jedi knight litter the space that had once been your own. Trinkets that he’s collected from all over the galaxy, unfinished inventions that he tinkers with to destress. Not to mention his scent. It permeates every pillow and blanket that you own, making it that much easier to miss him when he’s gone.

“Ani,” you begin gently, setting your bag on one of your dressers.

“Ah-” he holds up his hand. “What did I say?”

“You said you didn’t want to hear a word from me until we got home,” you answer immediately. “We’re home.”

The corner of Anakin’s lip quirks up before he catches himself. You almost had him.“You think you’re clever? That mouth of yours gets you into trouble sometimes, doesn’t it?”

You nod and gulp. Your thighs have become sticky with arousal given the fact that you chose not to wear anything beneath your dress. A fact that Anakin has yet to discover. He holds your chin in his gloved hand and angles your head upwards. “Good thing I have a better way of putting that mouth to use.”

Anakin encourages you to your knees. The short hemline of your dress creeps up your thighs but not enough to reveal your exposed cunt. “No touching. Understand?”

You nod again, sitting complacently on your heels as you watch Anakin remove his pants. Your lips are parted as you anticipate his length in your mouth. You claw at your thighs when you see the prettiest droplets of precum on the crown of his cock. It’s been too long, you think.

“I know it has, angel,” Anakin answers your thought. Damn him for getting in your head. No matter. He’d know you want him even without reading your thoughts. You’re practically drooling for him. “Be a good girl and open that pretty mouth for me.”

As soon as you drop your jaw, Anakin wastes no time putting his dick in your mouth. The weight of him on your tongue makes your pussy pathetically clench around nothing. Even though it’s been a while since you two have been intimate, the feeling, the taste, it’s familiar. It’s comforting. Even when his spongey tip is hitting the back of your throat when he ruts his hips forward. This makes you gag and grab onto his thighs for stability.

“Fuck,” the profanity slips from Anakin’s lips. He can’t deny how much he’s missed the feeling of his cock in your mouth. The sinful image of it being too big, too thick, making you choke. He relishes the way you whimper around him, how it sends shocks of pleasure through him as you beg for him to fuck your mouth. You want to wrap your hand around the base of him, but Anakin was clear in his instructions. No touching. Instead, you squeeze his thighs, urging him to continue. You relax your throat, opening wide so he can use you how he pleases.

The friction of his length brushing past your soft lips makes his stomach tighten. His strong quads are contracting beneath your hands as he thrusts himself in and out of your mouth. His musk makes you dizzy. Your eyes are stinging and a lonesome tear falls down your cheek. “Finally decided to behave, hm?” he wipes your tear with his thumb. “Don’t think for a second that you’re forgiven for how you’ve been acting.”

Anakin pulls his dick from your mouth, a messy string of saliva connecting the two of you before landing on your chin. Your chest is heaving as you attempt to catch your breath. “I shouldn’t even let you cum tonight. Do you think you deserve to cum?”

“Please, Ani,” you answer quietly. Your throat is raw and you still can’t seem to get a good breath in your lungs. “I want to cum.”

Anakin shakes his head. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to cum, I asked if you deserved to cum. Because from where I’m standing I don’t think you do. You’ve been a brat ever since you got home. Insisting that you can wear slutty little outfits just because it’s part of your job… flirting with that Twi at the bar… telling him I’m your friend,” Anakin spits.

Your knees are aching but you don’t dare stand up. Anakin hasn’t been dominant in a long time and you want to savor this. “I had to seduce the Hutts, Ani. It was for the job.”

“I’m done hearing your excuses.” Anakin wraps his artificial hand around your bicep, lifting you off the ground. “I want to hear you say you’re sorry for being a brat. For disrespecting me at the club.”

Maker, you wish you were still on the floor because Anakin’s words are making your knees buckle. “I’m sorry,” you say.

“That’s not good enough,” he hisses. You love this side of Anakin: dark and demanding while knowing he’s going to take care of you when all is said and done. After all, he’s just your sweet boy from Tatooine. He never used to want to inflict pain on purpose. But over time, with your permission and encouragement, you allowed him to experiment with stirring desires. Spanking you, tying you up, being the dominating presence in the bedroom. Giving him all of the control he never felt under Watto.

Anakin is not always dominant and you’re not always submissive. Sometimes he likes to be taken care of, likes it when you’re in control. Sometimes you two just make love, only concerned with making the other feel good with your bodies. But tonight, you understand very clearly that Anakin wants to dominate you. Reclaim you as his.

“I’m sorry for being a brat, Anakin. I’m sorry I told the Twi’lek we weren’t together.”

“What was his name?” Anakin inquires. You give him a puzzled look. “The Twi’lek. What was his name?”

“V-Vik,” you stutter.

Anakin tucks your hair behind your ear. “Good. Now forget it. The only name you’ll be needing tonight is mine. Understand?”

“Yes,” you reply. Anakin raises his eyebrows. “Yes, Anakin,” you correct.

“There’s hope for you yet,” he replies. “Let’s get this dress off of you.”

You turn around so he can undo the zipper. Anakin’s lips ghost over your pulse, hands caressing your shoulders before finding the little tab at the top of your back. “I really do love this dress, baby. But I know it’ll look better on the floor.” He begins a trail of kisses down your spine as he drags the zipper down your back. The opening stops just above your hips and you remove your arms so Anakin can drop the fabric from you completely. When he sees your bare ass in front of his eyes, he almost doesn’t know what to do with himself. Or to you.

“You little minx,” he murmurs. “I should be mad at you… but you made it that much easier for me to access what I really want.” Anakin drags two fingers between the folds of your pussy to see how wet you are. His cock jumps with anticipation. Now he’s the one thinking it’s been too long. “Get on the bed, sweetheart. On your knees.”

As you situate yourself on the bed, Anakin removes the rest of his clothing. The mattress dips beneath his weight and lays down beneath your legs, face right below your leaking cunt. “Sit,” is all he says. You’re wracking your brain trying to think of a time you’ve ever sat on Anakin’s face. Won’t it be too much? How will he breathe? You apparently take too long to follow orders as Anakin’s hands are on your hips and lowers you down to his mouth.

“Oh, Anakin,” you whine, fingers fisting in his wavy hair reactively. You’d been aching and throbbing for any kind of contact and this almost already too much. His warm tongue swirls around your hole and he’s groaning into you, as if this is just as pleasurable for him as it is for you. He goes back and forth between using the tip of his tongue inside of you and using the flat of it to lap up all that you’re giving him. “Ani, that’s so good- I’m gonna-” your thighs begin to tremble as your pleasure grows.

Swiftly, Anakin has you on your back and returns not only his mouth to your cunt, but two fingers as well. The new stretch makes you cry out his name once more. He drags his fingers along your wall while flicking your swollen clit with his tongue. His face is smeared with your juices and the sounds coming from his throat is intoxicating. You think he loves giving more than you love receiving. But then your back arches off of the bed when Anakin’s fingers hit that particular spot inside of you. Everything begins to unravel as Anakin cups your breast and finger fucks you until you see stars. “Anakin!”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Anakin soothes, kissing the inside of your sticky thigh. “I never want you to forget…” another kiss on the other side, “that I’m the only one who can make you cum like that.”

“Ani.” You roll your head against the mattress as your body begins to settle from your orgasm. Your fingers brush Anakin’s cheek as he kisses along your hip bone, across your soft tummy, and up the valley of your breasts. His leaking tip hits you between your folds, tempting you with what you crave so deeply. He presses a kiss over your thrumming pulse while running his hands over your whole body. The contrast between his warm hand and cool leather glove makes you shudder. You lift your hips in a meager attempt to get his cock inside of you. “Ani, please.”

Anakin’s lips smirk against your neck. “Please what? Please… split you open with my cock? Please… fuck you until your pussy is sore? Tell me. What do you want?”

Oh. Anakin’s low, gruff voice is enough to make you tremble. But these words? There aren’t enough words in the galaxy to describe how they make you feel. He’s never spoken to you like this. Dirty talk is one thing but Maker, that is kriffing filth. And you want it. You want everything he said. You want to be fucked so well, so hard that all you can think about is Anakin and how good he makes you feel. Anakin grabs your hands, threading his fingers between yours and holds them by your head. His nose brushes yours and you’re acutely aware that he still hasn’t kissed you. The last time he kissed you was before you left for Nal Hutta two weeks ago.

“I want you to kiss me, Ani,” you say sweetly. “And then… and then I want you to fuck me until I’m sore.”

That’s enough for him. His lips finally slant over yours as he rolls his hips toward you, cock slipping into your hole with little resistence. It’s not that it’s an easy fit— it’s just that you’re always nice and ready for him. Always wet and always willing to feel that lovely stretch. You’re both moaning into each other when Anakin bottoms out. You clench your walls, eliciting a heavy groan from the bottom of Anakin’s throat. He starts slow, going nice and easy on you before setting a brutal pace. You can feel every vein and ridge of his cock as he glides in and out of you. Your ankles lock around his waist and he wraps his arms around your back. He captures your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away from you. He drops his head beside yours, wild curls tickling your cheek as he begins thrusting into you just a bit harder and faster.

“Oh, Maker, Ani-” you squeal. “It’s g-good, so good.”

Anakin’s hips halt. He lifts his head and stares at you with brows knit together. “Just good?” he chuckles dryly. “Good isn’t good enough.”

“That- that’s not what I meant, Ani-” you’re cut off when he pulls out of you and roughly grabs your hips and turns you over.

“You and I both know I’m better than good,” Anakin’s words are covered with venom because how dare you insult him? With one hand still holding strongly onto your hip, he drags his cock through your slick folds but has no mercy with easing into you. He thrusts into you sharply, making you gasp and grip the sheets for purchase.

“Anakin!” you yelp, squeezing your eyes together so tightly colors dance behind your lids. Anakin’s hips snap against your ass harhsly as he holds firmly to your hips.

“Remind me of word you used, sweetheart. Good? Is this good enough for you, baby? Or do you need it harder?”

Harder? He can go harder? Of course he can. Anakin Skywalker wields more strength and power than you can possibly understand. You’re not sure he even knows the full extent of his abilities. “Mmh,” you mumble against the mattress. “Hard- oh, Maker!”

Anakin pulls on your hair, bringing your back up against his chest. “What was that, baby? I couldn’t hear you.” His mouth hovers over the shell of your ear and your head falls back against his shoulder. You’re absolutely blissed out when his hand finds your tight bundle of nerves.

“Hard- harder,” you fumble the word again because the pressure on your clit sends you soaring. Now coupled with the intense friction of Anakin’s relentless pace, you indeed feel like you’re being split in half.

“This is ruining you, isn’t it? Letting me fuck you so hard you can’t even speak…” Anakin nips at your neck, leaving bruises only he can make on you. “Mine. You’re mine. Your body, your pussy, your orgasms. It’s all mine. I’m the one you’ll come home to. Every. Single. Time,” he accentuates those last three words with three blunt thrusts. He releases his seed, warmth spreading through your belly.

“Yours,” you say through a whimper. You’re fluttering around him, reaching behind you to tangle your fingers through Anakin’s hair. “Love- fuck, Ani-” you can’t even finish your thought as you orgasm abruptly. It wracks through your whole body and you are certain to collapse if it weren’t for Anakin’s strong arms supporting you. “Ani… Anakin…”

“I know,” he soothes, his voice returning to the gentle cadence you’re so used to. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He lays you back down on the bed, his cock coming out of you feels like a void you immediately want refilled. As if what he’s just given you isn’t enough. Aftershocks course through your limbs and you instinctively curl your legs inward. Anakin draws you near, resting your head on his chest. He runs his hand over your hair. “Was it too much?”

“No,” you whisper, fingers drawing swirls on Anakin’s toned abdomen. “It was perfect, Ani. I missed you so much. I hated that you were mad at me.”

Anakin sighs. “I was never truly mad at you, sweetheart. I was… I was mad at myself for overreacting. Because I know you’re right.”

You perk your head up. “What? What did you just say?”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes but flashes the smile that still makes you swoon. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“Please? Just once,” you tut your bottom lip out and bat your lashes. Oh, how can he say no to that?

“You were right.”

“Of course, I was,” you say smugly. “I just had to let you come to the conclusion on your own.”

Anakin pinches your side playfully. “You have very interesting methods.”

“And you don’t?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Anakin kisses the top of your head, followed by a yawn.

“You sleepy, Ani?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “Very sleepy.”

Your sweet boy is back. And you wish your sweet boy only the sweetest of dreams. “I love you, Anakin Skywalker.”

MWAH MWAH THANK U FOR READING I HOPE YOU ENJOYED :D

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littlefireball · 3 months

Text

ᴡᴏᴏꜱᴀɴ|ꜱ*x ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ꜱᴛᴀɢᴇ (ᴍ)

ɪᴅᴏʟ ᴡᴏᴏꜱᴀɴ x ɪᴅᴏʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.4ᴋ

Every summer, renowned music programs host special stages, featuring collaborations between popular male and female group members.

This time, you find yourself among the chosen few.

The theme of the collaboration song revolves around being healthy and sexy, a departure from your usual conservative image.

Despite this, you embrace the opportunity, eager to shatter stereotypes and astonish your two boyfriends, Wooyoung and San.

Keeping your participation a secret from them, you tread cautiously, whether en route to the TV station or backstage, hoping to evade their notice.

Your silhouette was accentuated in the alluring ensemble; a low-cut, cropped suspender top highlights your delicate chest and alluring waistline, while denim shorts elongate your slender legs.

Before stepping onto the stage, you meticulously groom yourself in front of the mirror, the unfamiliarity of the sexy attire causing a flutter of unease within you.

The anticipation of Wooyoung and San's reactions - be it surprise, delight, or any other emotion - adds to your jitters. Amidst the chaos in your mind, you find solace in deep breaths, attempting to soothe your anxious heart.

"Hey! There's a summer collaboration stage this time! I wonder what song it will be?" ATEEZ exclaimed with excitement.

"Watch and you'll know!" The members of ATEEZ sat on the sofa in the resting room, eagerly staring at the TV, anticipating the upcoming performance.

The camera panned to the black curtains, then suddenly the lights illuminated the stage, revealing a lineup of performers. As the music began, you turned around, stunning everyone with your presence.

"Y/N??" Wooyoung and San exclaimed in unison, surprised and delighted by your unexpected participation in the collaboration stage.

The summer-themed music continued to play, and you effortlessly danced to the beat, captivating the audience with your alluring performance. The camera zoomed out to capture your elegant movements and striking outfit.

The members of ATEEZ were taken aback by your outfit, which contrasted with your usual style. Your graceful dance moves and statuesque figure exuded a seductive charm that left them mesmerized.

Lost in the moment, Wooyoung and San were completely engrossed in your performance, unable to look away. Your magnetic presence held them captive, as they watched you with admiration and awe.

Their bodies pulsed with warmth, a magnetic pull drawing their focus to their throbbing desire. Thoughts of your moans, your enticing presence beneath them, and how expertly you handle their arousal flickered through their mind. Sensations of heat and moisture intertwined, fueling their urgent need.

Oh, they wanted to fuck you now.

"Wow, Y/N's dancing is so good~," Jongho teased, finding their reactions amusing.

"Hey! She's mine, don't even think about it," Wooyoung retorted possessively.

"She belongs to us. She's never been just yours," San interjected, his possessiveness tinged with annoyance.

"We've never seen Y/N look so alluring before," Yunho joked, unconcerned with the consequences.

"Hands off, she's off-limits!"

"Someone's getting jealous~~"

"Hush, let's not start a fight," Seonghwa quickly intervened, sensing the tension rising.

The cheers from the TV signaled the end of your performance, but the desire you ignited in them only burned brighter.

Wooyoung and San looked at each other as the same idea pop up in their mind and left the room.

"Hey, use protection." Seonghwa reminded.

"What're you talking about?" They rolled their eyes in the back and smirked.

"Your mind is so dirty, hyung."

"Thank you," you said with a bow before making your way back to your room. The lounge was situated in a secluded area, ensuring minimal foot traffic. The staff were busy preparing for the next performance, creating a serene atmosphere around the lounge.

As you opened the door, you eagerly anticipated any messages from your boyfriends. "Any messages?" you asked, hoping to hear from the manager.

Instead of your manager, it was Sannie,who greeted you. Surprised and delighted, you rushed over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a quick kiss.

"Sannie~~"

He responded in kind, holding your face gently as he kissed you again, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"where's Youngie?" you asked, eager to see him. Sannie explained that Wooyoung had gone to fetch something important, but he didn't want to wait any longer.

"Wait for what?"

"You guess?"

His hand caressed your face, while the other moved to your backside, his deep voice sending a thrill through you.

"Hmm, Sannie," you murmured, feeling his touch ignite a fire within you."Who was the sexy performer on stage today, keeping secrets from us? Naughty," he teased, his voice dripping with allure.

"I just wanted to surprise you," you replied, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hand squeezed your butt.

"Well, I want to surprise you too," he whispered, his hand sliding down your arm and behind your back.

Feeling his arousal against you, you blushed and bit your lip, caught in his intense gaze. "What do you think we should do about this?" he asked, his knee pressing between your thighs and his cock rubbing your lower core, leaving you breathless and eager for more.

"But…here…"

"Just keep your voice down and everything will be fine."

Your words were interrupted by his passionate kiss. He kissed you with intensity, nibbling and sucking on your lips, creating a soft, intimate sound. The kiss was brief, as his arousal was difficult to ignore.

"Oh, I need to fuck you now."

"Let's be quiet, okay? We don't want to be caught," he whispered.

He kissed you again, offering reassurance. Deep down, you craved their desire to fuck you, but you hadn't expected them to be so bold as to engage in intimacy backstage; you had imagined it would happen at home.

"You look so sexy. I never knew my girlfriend was so daring," he murmured, trailing kisses along your earlobe and leading you to the dressing table, turning you to face the mirror.

San couldn't resist the overwhelming desire that surged through him as he remembered you dancing in that alluring outfit-your chest bouncing and hips swaying.

Every fiber of his being tingled with the allure of your beauty, his heart racing and breath quickening.

"Oh, my beautiful one. Your pussy belongs to me," he whispered, pressing you against him, his hardness pressing against your backside, teasingly pushing into you through the fabric.

"Ha…San…" You rested your head on his shoulder as he slid down your pants and underwear.

"You're already wet for me," he observed, his hand tracing up your thigh, over your buttocks, and finally to your moist entrance.

As he prepared to enter you with his fingers, you stopped him.

"Just fuck me, Sannie. No need for preparation."

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, peppering your neck with kisses, his gaze filled with lust and tenderness.

"I'm ready. Please," you insisted.

"Of course, my love." He unbuckled his belt, the metallic sound heightening the anticipation as he prepared to enter you.

"I'm going to show you how much I desire you." With one hand cradling your neck and the other on your waist, he wasted no time in sliding his hardness into your wetness after he slide the condom down on his cock.

Your mouth formed a perfect 'O' shape, and your toes curled involuntarily. "You're mine," he declared, thrusting deeply, drawing a moan from your lips.

"Ahhh…San…" "Shhh, remember what I just said?" He maintained a steady rhythm, his movements synchronized with the softness of your touch. Despite the lack of preparation, your wetness allowed him to penetrate you fully.

He grabbed your hair and you closed your eyes, not wanting to moan out so loud but only panting so heavily. Your throat feels constricted, and the excitement in your lower body consumed your senses.

"Watch yourself, honey. I want you to see how I fuck the life out of you." You opened your eyes and met his gaze, attractive as fuck. Your body moved back and forth from his thrusting and collided to the table.

"Tight af, my honey." His tip hits your most sensitive spot, and the sounds of wacking and squeaking of water and flesh colliding acts as an aphrodisiac, urging San to thrust harder and faster.

"Fuck, San!" He slapped your ass, causing it to slightly bounce. The soft touch was his favourite. He increased the strength of his hands, raising your head higher, and the slight pain pushed you further into excitement. He gritted his teeth, and you saw beads of sweat on his forehead in the mirror, but his charm remained intact.

His hardened cock reached as deep as possible, twitching every time when you let out a moan. It was hard to fully suppress groan and you could only cover your mouth and bite your lips, even drawing some blood.

'Knock─Knock─" The knock on the door jolted you awake, fear gripping your heart as you exchanged a wide-eyed glance with each other. The thought of being discovered sent a shiver down your spine, the consequences looming ominously in your mind.

"It's me," came the familiar voice of Wooyoung, bringing a wave of relief as he entered the room. However, his eyes widened in surprise as he caught sight of San already engaged in passionate intimacy with you.

"Hey! How could you start without me?! Weren't we supposed to wait?" Wooyoung exclaimed, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"You were taking too long, my friend. I can't wait," San replied, his movements not faltering as he continued to thrust with a steady rhythm.

Wooyoung grumbled but eventually settled onto the sofa, watching the scene unfold before him with a mix of curiosity and arousal. The sight of you panting heavily, your body moving in sync with San's thrusts, was undeniably captivating.

So sexy.

Of course, just like San, Wooyoung couldn't bear the heat running through the body and his erection. He pulled his pants down just enough to free his cock and started to jerk off while watching you to make love.

"Ahhh…" His head rested on the sofa, and the speed of his hands became faster, panting continuously, with embarrassing moans mixed with yours.

"Fuck, Y/N." Now your image filled with wooyoung's mind-how his cock was wrapped around by your velvet wall, how your warmth drove him crazy.

"It seems he wants you so much, honey." San pecked at your nape and kept thrusting. You turned your head and watched what wooyoung was doing.

He was so sexy.

"You want him too? I can feel how wetter you are."

"Hmmm…"

"But baby you have to cum first or I will not let him fuck you." San released his hand and caressed your clit, circling and giving a hard press.

"Oh shit, Sannie…" "Cum."

With a final, powerful thrust, San brought you both to the peak of pleasure, your moans filling the room as you reached climax together. Wooyoung, also, came all on the tissues with a loud moan.

As San withdrew, WooYoung took his place, pulling you into his arms with a possessive yet tender gesture, his fingers gently caressing your hair.

"My turn."

"Sorry, I can't wait." San leaned in to kiss wooyoung's temple, a silent apology for his impatience.

Wooyoung's gaze shifted as he met yours, a flicker of desire passing through his eyes before he masked it.

"Are you alright, darling?" Your weary eyes met him with a mix of exhaustion and longing, sensing the intensity of his desire that threatened to consume you. You knew he wouldn't easily release his hold on you.

"I'm fine, I guess," you replied softly, the words barely escaping your lips before he lifted your chin and claimed your mouth in a hungry kiss. The passion between you ignited, each kiss a fervent exploration of shared desire, a merging of souls that left an indelible mark on your hearts.

Breathless and lost in the moment, your lips remained locked in a dance of fervor. Wooyoung guided you to the couch, positioning himself above you as your kisses continued to convey a shared hunger, a mutual enjoyment of the escalating tension without a struggle for dominance.

"It seems we don't need any more preparation, do we?" he murmured, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Please, Wooyoung," you whispered, already dizzy with anticipation, the remnants of your previous climax still coursing through your veins. Surrendering to instinct, you pleaded, momentarily forgetting your surroundings.

"Patience, my love," he replied, his voice a low rumble as he pressed against you, entering you with practiced skill. Your body arched in response, hands clutching his shoulders for support.

"Oh, Wooyoung," you moaned as he set a deliberate pace, each thrust slow but deep, as if seeking to push you to your limits with every movement.

As he teased you with shallow withdrawals followed by deep, penetrating thrusts, you felt a wave of pleasure building within you, overwhelming your senses. Your moans were stifled, muffled by the intensity of the moment.

"You were so sexy today, babe. How can you wear such an outfit but never tell us, huh?"

"Hmm…I just wanna surprise you…"

"Oh really?" He suddenly thrust so hard and hit your g spot without any error.

"Ah!" You shouted out and he immediately covered your mouth, wearing a smile on his lips.

"Feel so good, right?" He repeated what he did just now as if teasing you. You closed your eyes as everything was just overwhelming. Moaning and groaning were suppressed, only muffled sound came out.

Beside him, San shifted uncomfortably, his own desire reignited by the sight of Wooyoung's fervent lovemaking. His gaze lingered on you, a mix of envy and arousal evident in his expression.

"Damn… darling… you drive me crazy," San muttered, his hand moving to pleasure himself as he watched Wooyoung claim you as his own, a possessive glint in his eyes that dared San to challenge his dominance.

Wooyoung deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance with a hint of aggression, a silent declaration of his claim over you. You yielded to his advances, allowing him to take the lead as his movements grew more urgent, more possessive, a silent promise of unbridled passion yet to come.

After parting from your lips, he nestled his head in the curve of your neck, leaving a lingering kiss.

"No…no hickey…others may see it…"

"Yes, babe." WooYoung increased his speed, pounding against your G-spot and rubbing against your inner walls in a fast paced.

"Oh fuck!" He knew you were about to reach limit.

"Don't cum until I tell you."

"Hmm, please, youngie~"

"Be good, hm?" He pecked at your lips and turned his head to San.

"Someone needs help, babe." He pulled you up and wrapped your legs around his waist.

"San, come here."

"Fuck her with me." You widened your eyes surprisingly and couldn't believe what you just heard.

"It's okay, babe. You can take it, hm?" You nodded, snuggling into the nook of his neck, feeling a bit awkward in your current position. All you wanted was for them to fuck you as quickly as possible.

"Can you take us at the same time, honey?"

"Yah..yah…"

"You're so good as always."

"Take a seat, babe." Wooyoung planted a gentle kiss on your temple before you felt two hands grip your hips. San lay on the sofa, easing you down slowly while guiding his hardness towards your entrance.

"Hiss…."

Now you were sandwiched between them, with your back against San's chest, sensing his warmth and the rhythm of his breath. Your chest pressed against Wooyoung's, the friction against his damp skin sending shivers down your spine.

The blend of your three scents, mingled with the aroma of passion, filled the air, heightening the erotic atmosphere.

"Its amazing!"

They could sense each other's arousal through the thin barrier between them. Your legs were spread on either side of Wooyoung's, hands intertwined with San's.

Wooyoung thrust into you with a fervor that seemed endless, as if he could never tire. The previous intimacy had only fueled his desire further. Meanwhile, San maintained a steady pace, relishing the sensation of your tightness enveloping him.

The heat of your inner walls drove Wooyoung wild. He could feel the intense warmth concentrated at the tip of his arousal, caressing your soft flesh, eliciting soft moans from him.

"Oh fuck, Y/N, take me so well." "It's us." San peppered your face with kisses, his tongue tracing over your skin, occasionally nipping gently. His marks left a trail of passion on your shoulder.

"Fuck, Sannie, Youngie…I… I'm, oh fuck." The intense lovemaking sent your mind into a whirlwind of pleasure, rendering you almost speechless. Observing you in this state, both San and Wooyoung felt immensely gratified.

"Want to cum, babe?" "Ahhh, yah…I'm gonna cum…" You shut your eyes tightly, releasing loud moans as if trying to expel every last breath from your lungs.

"Shh, be quiet," San hushed you, placing a hand over your mouth to muffle your ecstatic cries, feeling the ebb and flow of your breath, alternating between hot and cool.

"Cumming mess on my cock just like you always. You are so good for us. Fucking tight, fucking delicious."

"…!" Driven by his words and intensified thrusts that teased your most sensitive nerves, you reached the peak of pleasure once more.

"Hold on, babe. We still not yet." Wooyoung thrust with a speed and intensity that defied description, his energy seemingly boundless as he took you to new heights. Despite your exhaustion, he showed no signs of slowing down.

"Hmmmmm!" After a few final thrusts, his release came suddenly, leaving you both panting heavily, yearning to gradually come back to earth. Yet, in the heat of the moment, San's own climax had been momentarily forgotten.

"Oh, honey. Its my turn, sorry."

"Fuck you San!" "Shut up, wooyoung."

Pushing you up and withdrawing, San positioned you on Wooyoung's chest, reentering you with a fervor that matched his counterpart. With one foot on the sofa and the other on the floor, he moved with a rhythm that set your senses ablaze.

"Ha…ha….Sannie…" "You love moaning his name, huh?" "Hmm, youngie…" "Good girl."

Wooyoung tenderly caressed your back, gently tucking your hair behind your ear, and planting a soft kiss on your cheek. The overwhelming sensation left you breathless, a whirlwind of fatigue and excitement coursing through your body. Your legs trembled like leaves in the wind, requiring all your strength just to open your eyes.

Embracing you tightly, Wooyoung comforted you with a passionate kiss, his touch igniting a fire within you. Meanwhile, San quickened his pace in pursuit of his own climax. With a fervent exclamation, San reached his peak, pushing you to the brink as your essence dripped onto the sofa and their thighs.

"You did so well, my love. Let's tidy up," Wooyoung said softly, but you hesitated. "I don't want to move," you murmured. "That's alright, just rest," Wooyoung reassured you, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead; San got some tissues to clean you all. As you drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the day's activities, you missed their whispered words.

"I adore her in those sexy outfits. Imagine if she wore them every day.""She wouldn't be able to stand straight," San chuckled, sharing a knowing look with Wooyoung. They each placed a tender kiss on your forehead before quietly leaving the room to prepare for their performance.

Upon waking, you discovered a message from them: "Can't wait to see you at home. Love you."

Returning to your shared space, they had already prepared dinner, showered with you, and of course, made love with you again and lovingly tended to your needs. As the night unfolded, you found yourself enveloped in their care, drifting off to sleep nestled between them, San gently caressing your waist and Wooyoung massaging your head.

The following day, a video of your electrifying stage performance was shared on social media, quickly sparking conversations across the city. Your captivating presence and alluring attire became the talk of the town, attracting attention from major media outlets. Meanwhile, San and Wooyoung cherished your personal fancam, watching it daily as a reminder of your mesmerizing beauty.

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