#something that's all dont look behind the curtain

[unohanadaydreams]

What’s your opinion on Mayuri and his relationships? Do you think he’s a little tsundere in a way? Or do you think Nemu is his only friend? I think he has soft spots but I think he feels emotions like embarrassment and hurt. I mean I’m sure he feels irritation towards Kenpachi, but if he really hated him wouldn’t he just walk away? I feel like he’s a little lonely, even if he likes being alone. Maybe it’s just normal for him

Oh, he definitely feels emotions. In my opinion, he does suppress quite a few of his emotions. Like those he feels are beneath him or that he expected would never take root (like love for Nemu or adoration for Urahara).

He treats the people in his life that we, the audience, understand him to hold as special as though they are, at best, annoyances and, at worst, mindless fuck ups.

And with Mayuri, it really seems as though he loves the idea of these people more than the actual people themselves. Nemu is so steeped in his life's dream that you can see why he so easily put her close to his heart. But he doesn't respect her as a person and even the idea of his treatment being 'tough love' falls flat when you consider that as soon as he makes peace with the fact that he "fucked up" by loving Nemu, he treats the following Nemuri with a more distant, passive hand.

With Urahara too, it seems like he loves the idea of a mentor more than the actual mentor himself. He admires what the man left him more than the actual man himself & he reduces those feelings down to rivalry and annoyance.

Like, do I think Mayuri in his own way DOES have feelings of affection for Nemuri and Urahara and others? Sure, but he doesn't allow himself portray that in ways that most do. A lot of his 'soft' moments are kind of passive aggressive, rude, or scolding, even.

In fact, he most often portrays genuine fondness for those he wants to study or kill (sometimes it's tongue-in-cheek like 'wooow sooo impressive' but yknow), which is just amazing. He shows more outward affection and unmasked interest for Orihime than his daughter.

Obviously he doesn't do a stellar job, TO US, at hiding that he has love for others in his life, but he is dictated by what he wants to be rather than who he is. And at some point he just becomes what he aims to be, yknow? He refuses to be just some guy.

He wants to be Mayuri Kurotsuchi the best scientist, the best leader of R&D, the best captain of the 12th to ever exist in the Gotei 13. And he perceives that someone like that can't fall into the emotions that he suppresses.

Maybe this comes partly from him wanting to surpass those who came before him so badly that he over corrects to avoid inheriting what he perceives as their downfalls?

For instance, Senjumaru dropped everything & her unofficial R&D in general to be in the Royal Guard while Mayuri clings to Nemu and what she stands for in a vice fucking grip.

And Urahara was banished from the Soul Society for putting his fellow shinigami before his position and general place in the world; he chose to save the Vizards at the cost of everything he knew. While Mayuri would fucking never. He only saves his fellow Shinigami when he feels in control of the situation & to emphasize his position as That 12th Division Bitch.

At his core, I think he is lonely and that is partly why he doesn't just deuces out of some of the conversations he has in canon. But its by his own design. He did it to himself. Because that's the path he chose. In TYBW he very clearly chooses the path that will isolate himself even further from others on a vunerable, personal level.

And also, he just likes to bitch and complain. This is the man that called Yamamoto a fail captain to his fucking face; he loves to bitch at people. Absolute equal opportunity for handing out over-explanations on why he's right complete with condescending rhetorical questions.

He definitely feels waaaay more comfortable snarking at someone than he does admitting that he wanted to have a conversation with a body that wasn't lifeless on a table.

[puppyeared]

is this your card? ♦️♣️♥️♠️ it isnt but you dont wanna hurt his feelings

[decepti-geek]

I’m sure people have lots of fun with the doomed by the narrative thing but whenever I see it I turn into the project runway guy

“doomed by the narrative” shut up it’s the fucking creator making creative decisions

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: 'Intense Desire' ༄࿔ L.F.

⤷ Sex Pills | Overstimulation | Squirting

♱ word count: 2.9k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, sex pills usage (felix accidentally taking them), mention of a handjob in a car, he gets “mean” for like a split second, unprotected p in v, rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampies, squirting, if u quint theres 1 sentence of angst at the end, i might be forgetting something

♱ notes: sorry this was delayed! I made it a little longer than the others in hopes that it would make up for the tardiness <3 also 1 the beginning might feel rushed (it was) and 2 sex pills dont completely work like this?? But its fiction so.. pls bare with me im so stressed out LMFAO

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

The pounding in Felix’s head was just enough to distract him from the colorful clothes around the two of you. The initially exciting shopping trip to the mall with your boyfriend had quickly slowed down thanks to the headache he developed out of the blue. Your comforting words and warm hands on his face only helped so much, and he felt horrible for his body refusing to let him enjoy your date.

It wasn’t until you reminded him of the medicines he had packed away in his bag that he let up on his pouting Then, with the familiar feeling of the plastic of a pill bottle on his fingers and a gentle reminder from you that this should be fun for the both of you, Felix finds himself leading you to the food court. He quickly buys a bottle of water and chugs down 3 pills. It’s over the dosage of 2 he normally would take, but he’s desperate to have a good time with you.

Not long after, he’s back to his normal self and the thumping pain in his head is long gone. Wide smiles and crescent eyes watch you pick out interesting clothes, some even meant to match with him. Everything is back to normal!

That is until 30 minutes after the fact when he’s patiently sitting outside of your changing room waiting for you to try on the next outfit. He starts to feel a new, less painful ache. One between his legs that he’s all too familiar with.

Literal lines of sweat are dripping down his forehead and his neck when you open the curtain to present the outfit you picked out. He forces a smile and has to tear his eyes away from the tight pants to give his opinion. A curt, breathy, “Beautiful.”

The sweat immediately catches your attention and obviously raises concerns from the way your eyebrows furrow. He notices right away and tries not to let it worry you, shooing you away and encouraging you to try on the last pieces of fabric that await you in the changing room.

The second the curtains close behind you he racks his brain for possible reasons as to why a sudden, strong feeling of horniness took over his body. It’s even to the point where his whole body tingles from the ceiling fans above him. The slow gusts of wind make his cock ache in his jeans and goosebumps litter his arms.

He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten this horny in his life. Even the time when you managed to rile him up to the point where he almost came in his jeans when you brushed past him he had never felt this way. He swore he could feel his veins burning as he looked through his bag for his phone, praying that Google would explain everything.

But he doesn’t get far enough to grab his phone, because the realization hits him like a tsunami wave. The pills. He realizes too late that he never checked which medicine he took. And sure enough, when he checked his bag, the tiny plastic bottle he had a hold on earlier wasn’t his Ibuprofen.

Instead, it was a blue pill bottle that he kept for special medicines that he would occasionally get prescribed. This time around, it was the brand new, not prescribed pills he had put to the side for… intimacy reasons.

It was embarrassing at first for him. A young, attractive man in his 20s struggling with his sex life. All thanks to the wear and tear from work stress: the unforgiving cycle of working too much and being overwhelmed, then taking a break and working too little just to fall behind.

You understood! It’s understandable to not be able to get hard when there’s a never ending dread that has made home in the back of your mind. And it was clearly obvious that he is attracted to you, every other time the two of you were intimate is enough evidence for that.

So you offered him an idea that might help! That idea being “horny” pills. It took some convincing and consistent reassurance for him to cave and agree. Which led to that little blue bottle of little red pills that made his not-so-little friend crave your attention.

“Lixie?” Your voice snaps him out of his daydreaming and his head snaps up to see your head poking out of the curtain. Your giggle goes straight to his dick and he has to force a smile to get through the ache. “I need your help with this dress. I can’t get the zipper up.”

You don’t need to ask twice, especially when the promise of getting to see your bare skin is on the table. He’s joining you in the blink of an eye, using his clammy, shaky hands to zip up the dress the rest of the way. Your body flushes at the way he licks his lips as he looks you up and down multiple times.

“Do you like it?” His eyes snap up to yours in the mirror and he nods. It’s pretty obvious to you what’s going on in his head at this point, minus the reason for it, so you rip the dress off and rush to the cashier as fast as you can.

Felix is on your tail the whole time. A hand on your hip and his chest pressed to your back as he shoves his credit card into the card reader. Then again when the two of you get to the car, this time both of his hands on your hips and his face shoved into your neck.

“Need you so fucking bad.” His hard-on is even more obvious now as he grinds it against your thigh, groaning and whining into your neck about how good it feels. You struggle to get the car keys out of his pocket when his hands are all over you, making you feel good when they aren’t even doing much.

“Felix… Not here.” The two of you drabbled in public sex before so it wasn’t a new experience for either of you. But it had been a while since the two of you were intimate so you really didn’t want it to be in the dirty car garage of a mall. In the middle of the day, mind you.

“I need something. Baby, please. I-I can’t do this.” The desperation in his voice is enough to make your neck whip around, almost knocking into his as you look back at him with confusion. He knows you all too well and the answer to your unspoken question is already on the tip of his tongue.

“I accidentally took those sex pills instead of pain meds.” He doesn’t bother explaining further; he doesn’t care anymore. The only thing that’s on his mind is getting you into the car so he can get some sort of stimulation on his poor, achy cock.

You're lucky to even have gotten his hands off of you after that, let alone getting him in the passenger seat and buckled in without him launching at you. However you’re even less lucky as you drive him home, one hand on the wheel and the other- well, on his dick.

You could hear the wetness of him jerking himself off before you saw it. He was keen to get your help though. His eyes were teary and his voice came out a distressed whine as he pleaded for you to help, complaining that his hand wasn’t comparable to how good your hand would feel.

The windows on your shared car are as tinted as legally possible, so you quickly cave and slide your hand toward him. Now 5 minutes away from the house, you quicken your hands in hopes that he’ll cum this soon. But luck isn’t on either of your sides today and the car’s already in park before he’s even close to cumming.

You don’t make it past the entryway before Felix is shoving you forward, pinning you to the wall, and pulling your bottoms to your knees. The sight of your panties all messy and your pussy lips equally as messy from your excitement is enough to make him feral.

“You’re so good to me, Honey. Always so obedient and keeping my pussy ready for me when I most need it. I’m going to give you the world and more.” He doesn’t wait for you to make a comment before he’s pushing your underwear to join your bottoms.

One hand rests on the wall by your face and the other pushes against your lower back, arching your back at the same time that he pushes his cock in. Your walls are warm and wet as they take every last inch of him in, almost as if two puzzle pieces were finally placed together.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and he sucks on your neck, whispering incoherent mumbles until he’s bottomed out. He only stops then to take deep breaths and calm his own body down. Now that he’s finally inside of you, the effects of the pills feel a million times stronger.

He genuinely feels like a dog in heat, hips still rutting into yours even as his mind tells his body to relax. It doesn’t listen in the slightest and after a short pause his hips are finding a rigorous rhythm. 

Felix is a man possessed behind you; nails digging into your skin leaving bruises to come and hips moving with more force than you thought he could give. It’s hard to think he’s not possessed with his filthy mouth, something he’s always been good at but it hits differently when he’s rock hard inside of you and eager to feel every inch of your body all at once.

You start to feel like the pills are affecting you. Your own body reacts to his fervent movements with warm clenches and moans that spur him on. You feel so sensitive and your orgasm sneaks up on you, causing you to wiggle in his hold. The shuffle of your limbs makes him lose his angle and you both whine.

“No, no, no, no, no, no. Stop. You gotta stay arched, baby. Yeah, just like that. Ffuck���” The hand on your back pushes you forward, completely squishing you against the wall as he tries to arch you back to how you previously were. He knows that he did it right when you start to flutter around him again and your moans ascend a few pitches.

With the other hand using all of his fingers to rub your clit back and forth, he pushes you over the edge. You clench around him as you moan into the wall, your arms shaking as you try to hold yourself up against it. He growls against your ear and bites down on it as he continues fucking you through your high.

He doesn’t stop after you’re done. If anything it only encourages him, the ache in his veins telling him that he needs to keep going and make you feel even better. And so he does, with one hand still furiously rubbing your clit back and forth while the other now moves to your waist and holds up your slouching form.

It just squeezes you appreciatively, almost even possessively as he holds you in place when you start to flail. It doesn’t become mean until in the midst of your thrashing, you move yourself just slightly to the point where he loses his angle again. He pushes his hand roughly against you and arches your back himself again, this time with a disgruntled snap. 

“Stop fucking doing that.” He’s huffing into your ear as his hips pick up pace, going even faster than he was before. “Be good or else I’ll bend you over with nothing to lean on.” But it’s hard to control your body when painful pleasure is swimming through your body. Even more so when you feel another orgasm lurking.

“B-Baby, fuck! Give me a sec, you’re-” You cut yourself off with a shriek as the hand on your waist moves to tangle itself in your hair. It uses the grip to pull you back up to rest your back flat against his chest. His other hand finally falters at this point, instead of rubbing your clit it sinks into your thigh.

“I’m what, Honey. Tearing up your guts?” He laughs out a sound of agreement that turns into a guttural groan as his blinding thrusts finally let up. A few sharp thrusts and a series of moans fall from his lips as he empties himself out inside of you. It feels like gallons of his seed are filling your stomach, and the feeling of it leaking out onto your inner thighs is enough to make you believe that’s the case.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. He just stands there with his forehead against your shoulder and his arms wrapped around your torso, mind reeling as he comes down from such an intense high.

“Baby. You didn’t cum with me at the end, did you?” He’s more upset that he faltered that badly, but the twitch of his cock lets you both know that he’s not close to being done regardless. The question is a real testament to your faith. Lie to him and maybe bribe him to let you take a break, or tell the truth and deal with the consequences. Though, it doesn’t seem like he was asking.

He pulls out and moves his hand to the small of your back. Neither of you even spared a glance at your bottoms as you’re dragged to the living room and shoved into the couch. It knocks the breath from your lungs momentarily, and it’s all the time he needs to bend you to his will. Your shoulders sink into the bottom cushions and your legs are hovering just above you as he shoves his cock inside of you again. 

The breath is almost knocked from you again as he finds a new, rougher pace to follow. This one isn’t nearly as fast but the new angle, thanks to your ankles being by his ears, sends him right where he wants to be. His previous load froths along his length as he fucks into you like your lives are on the line. 

Your hands find home on his biceps and your nails leave deep crescent shapes along his skin as you desperately try to find something to ground yourself with. The new vigor he fucks you with makes it so that your next orgasm builds up within a minute or two. The feral stare from his lidded eyes only makes your stomach squeeze as you realize that he really has no plans to stop, even if he really wants to. 

“Felix, baby, s-slow down. It feels w-weird.” You push against his stomach in hopes that it will slow him down, but it doesn’t. He stays quiet and only responds by grabbing your wrist and shoving it into the cushion by your head; a wordless command for ‘Hands off.’ You look up just in time to see his gaze grow more intense.

He even leans forward, both of his hands moving to your thighs to fold them into your chest. His hips pick up speed once he has you folded to his liking and you find that strange feeling growing stronger. You get a glimpse of him licking his pink lips that then perk up into a menacing smile and then the feeling grows too strong, forcing your eyes closed and your legs to combat his hold.

Your body can only shake as you gush around him and he curses under his breath at the sight. Your cunt spams around him and you squirt through his merciless fucking. The wet, squelching noises combat the volume of your cries to the point where he periodically goes out of his way to thrust into you even rougher just to hear it more.

“You hear her talking to me? Fucking shit- She really liked that, huh baby?” He laughs in disbelief and slams into you repeatedly, chasing his own sudden orgasm from watching you cum so intensely.

“That was so fucking hot, Baby.” The whine in his voice doesn’t match the cocky look on his face, but you can’t be bothered to comment about it as he finishes inside of you all of a sudden. Your sensitive walls constrict around him yet again and he cums deep inside, riding his own orgasm out to the sound of your overwhelmed sobs.

His chest heaves as he catches his breath and he takes the moment to glance at a clock on the wall. It’s been a few hours since he took the pills so they should be going down soon. He can already feel his brain going back to normal, and his thoughts are clearing up as the two of you sit there unmoving.

“You… Are you ok, Honey?” Your sniffles are enough to make his heart drop into his ass, but when you look up at him the anxiety leaves his body. You smile at him through the tears and laugh as best as you can while still breathless.

“Holy shit, Felix.” He matches your chuckle and leans forward, slotting your legs on either side of his waist as he repeatedly pushes his lips against your cheek. “I’m… great. But you owe me for fucking me within an inch of my life like that with no warning.”

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@felixsangelicfreckles

[ashlynlovestlou]

ellie fucking you in the middle of the night <3

cw: smut , nsfw , men dni , strap usage , reader sits on ellie's face , dom! ellie , sub! reader , kinda vanilla , reader and ellie's relationship is a secret , y/n used (im sorry) , sitting on ellie's face

masterlist

daily click

☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

the problem is, you dont want to keep things casual. you said it because it felt like a thing you should say when you start fucking your best friend. now, you're lying in bed wearing ellie's shirt, wishing shed sneak down the stairs and crawl in with you.

you try to talk yourself out of it so many times. you'd already almost got caught once. but your body doesn't care and neither does your heart. you want her hands in your hair, her warm skin against your own.

which is why you creep through a dark house and up the stairs, keeping to the edges to avoid any creaking that might wake up joel. one peek into his room at the top of the stairs and you see him sprawled like a starfish. your lips curve up at the sight and then you very, very gently shut his bedroom door before padding down to the secondary bedroom as the opposite end of the hallway.

the door is closed and no light shines from beneath. you twist the handle and walk right in. her curtains are open and ambient light from outside filters in through the massive windows. the door clicks shut behind you and you walk across to the king-sized bed. much like joel, she is all long, muscular limbs stretched out in the middle.

unlike joel, you don't turn away.

you press one knee onto the mattress and crawl in her direction. ellie's breaths are deep, and the entire bed has a faint sandalwood smell. you think you'd settle for just lying here beside her, breathing her in.

instead, you kneel at her side. soaking her in, so relaxed. she looks younger—more carefree—like this.

with one hand, you trail the tip of your fingers over her lips—just like you did every time joel had his back on the two of you. a simple gesture, just to remind her you were there, even if it was for a moment.

ellie's big strong hand flies up, steely fingers wrapping around your wrist, "y/n."

it's not a question. she knows it's you.

"hi."

"what are you doing?" she asks from behind closed eyes.

"touching you."

her lips curve up into a sinful smile, "i thought you wanted to keep things casual in front of joel."

"right." you whisper, "it's just that i thought about it and decided being casual is overrated. i want you to touch me too."

a raspy chuckle spills from her as her green eyes open and dive into your own. chills erupt from the back of your neck, racing down your spine and over your arms.

"so, what now?" she asks beneath a quirked brow.

"i don't know." you suddenly feel nervous. you snuck up there with no plan, only knowing you wanted to be close to her, "do you want me to leave?"

she stares at you extra hard now. it's borderline unnerving. the weight of her stare. the way your stomach flip-flops under her attention. you've never felt this way before.

"no, y/n. i want you up here." her voice is soft and deep as she reaches for you. broad hands circle your waist and you squeal as she hauls you on to her, so you're straddling her torso.

"gonna need you to be quiet, baby." she murmurs as her palms slide up over your quads, tips of her fingers dipping inside your underwear at your hips.

all you can do is nod, lick your lips, and watch how good her hands look roaming over your body.

"n-now what?" you practically stutter.

"now you're going to hold on tight to that headboard, sit on my face, and try to keep your mouth shut while i make you come."

before you can respond, she's moved you up, yanked the gusset of you panties to the side, and has her tongue in your pussy.

you gasp and fall forward, holding the headboard like she instructed, more out of needing something to hold on to than because you're good at following directions.

your head falls back when her teeth graze you clit. she palms your ass and holds you close, like she's eating her favorite fruit. her eagerness does nothing but drive you even more wild.

"hmmm," you hum, trying to cover for the string of expletives currently sitting on the tip of your tongue. your thighs shake with the strain of holding yourself over her and fingers dig in hard.

ellie pulls away, only to grumble at you in that deep tone. "baby, i said be quiet. and stop being polite. i told you to sit on my face." the hand gripping your underwear yanks you down hard so that you're fully seated.

she sucks your clit and your body bows into her. her hand slides up from your ass, over your hip, stomach, and up to your breast, where she gently caresses you. she holds you. touches you.

she gives your nipple a good, firm twist that has you gasping and grinding against her mouth. all the response you get is a satisfied growl against your core as she continues to lick, and suck, and tease.

you ride her shamelessly. she told you to stop being polite, and so you do. you lose yourself in the sensation, the feel of her skin on yours. the smell of her wrapped around you.

there's something empowering in asking for what you want. to be touched when you want. and you're drunk on that—drunk on her—when everything inside you clenches. when that pressure builds so quickly, so intensely, you can't hold back... you shatter.

you feel like you blew apart into a million little pieces. your skin is hot, your eyelids feel heavy. and as much as you try to stay quiet, you can't.

her hand shoots up over your mouth and you slump into it, using her arm to prop yourself up while you cling to the headboard.

"ellie," you whisper as she moves you down. her limbs are moving and there's fabric rustling around you, but you're too incoherent to keep up, "ellie."

"y/n, baby. i told you to stay quiet."

your brain is too addled to care. "more." you fold yourself over her, dropping your head into the crook of her neck and kissing her there. your teeth graze over the lobe of her ear, and you realize she's removed her boxers while you blacked out. and, she had put on her strap that she conveniently kept in her nightstand.

"more?"

you nod, feeling her throat move against your forehead as he swallows. "more."

her hands move firmly, all business, as she removes your underwear. then she sits up, leaning against the headboard and taking you with her.

you can feel her hard length propped against your ass as she positions the two of you.

her eyes stay on your face as she reaches down to grip the hem of her shirt. the one she gave you to sleep in when she walked you to the guest room door and told you it might help you miss her less. right before she smirked that annoying, i'm-right-and-you-know-it smirk of hers.

she wasn't, though. which is why you're here.

your body coils with anticipation again as ellie's gaze rakes over your bare skin.

her hands roam slowly yet purposefully. over your arms, your collarbones. reading you like braille. you think she's always been able to, and you just didn't know it.

"i'm not sure you can handle more, baby." she kisses your chest as your hands move in tandem, feeling her in a way you didn't get to earlier. "you're not very good at keeping quiet."

"i'll be good," you murmur, grinding your pussy back on her and feeling her steely silicon dick twitch against your ass.

suddenly her lips are on your nipples and your hands are raking through her hair. she reaches between the two of you, urging you up onto your knees, you move obediently, and in return, you're rewarded by the sensation of her faux cock sliding against your pussy.

back and forth. back and forth. your eyes flutter shuts she tortures you. one hand grips your shoulder while the other is fisted around her length. you swivel your hips, feeling her crown notch inside you.

"goddamn, honey. you're even better than i fucking dreamed," she mutters roughly. then she shoves herself in, and you bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. because no one and nothing has ever felt this good.

your eyes snap open as your body adjusts. the light sight of her taking you so roughly has the blood thrumming through your veins at a rapid pace. your heart pounding even harder than before.

you stare at each other. her cock is buried deep inside you his.

"move, y/n. show me how bad you want it."

your pelvis undulates because you do want it. you lift and you drop back down, feeling every thick inch of her as you do. reveling in the way her eyes widen before taking on a more hooded appearance.

what starts off slow and deliberate comes apart at the seams. hands that were searching are now gripping.

breathing that was even is now choppy. everything is hot and damp as you writhe together in silence.

you don't need words. they wouldn't do justice to something that feels like this anyway.

"you're gonna come on my cock now, aren't you, baby?" she growls roughly, breathlessly, against your ear. your body shudders in response. "i can tell. your eyes give it away, even in the dark. then every muscle on you goes all tight. you ride me so damn hard. so eager. so warm. so fucking tight."

you're so full of her. her words. her body. it's too much, and right when youre about to go barreling over that edge again, she kisses you soundly, swallowing the sound of you screaming her name as you come.

with a fist full of your hair, she pumps into you hard.

spilling herself, filling you up thoroughly right as your orgasm rocks you. flays you. leaves you slumped in her arms, desperately trying to catch your breath.

you don't know how long the two of you stay like that. you straddling her lap, her cock snugly inside you, clinging to each other and kissing. slow, languid, deliberate kisses that make your throat ache with their tenderness. eventually they slow and ellie tolls you off her carefully.

always carefully. even when she's rough with you, shes so damn intentional. you feel nothing short of pampered with her. and when she gets up to retrieve a warm washcloth, the point is only driven further home.

"what are you doing?" you breathe the words, trying to stay quiet as she comes to kneel between your splayed legs.

"taking care of you."

the warm cloth swipes over your swollen core and you let out a soft moan. "you don't need to do that."

she continues wiping you gently. "but i want to."

you're struck silent by such a simple sentence.

you lie in ellie's bed, letting her take care of you. and when she's finished, she lifts the covers, crawls in behind you, and holds your body against hers all night long.

[paradiseprincesss]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝑶𝑶 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬 | Cillian Murphy

𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 — Are y'all sick of my "ushy gushy" smut yet? LOL. Also ya'll fw this new layout? I fear it's kinda cute and slay...

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 — Cillian's wife and kids are out of town, and your parents are in Italy for the next month, leaving you home alone. What's the harm in getting close and spending some time with your slightly awkward, DILF neighbour?

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 — 3.3k

𝑾𝑨𝑹��𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺 -> 18+ ONLY smut, age gap (unspecified but reader is in college, Cillian is late 40's), cheating on both ends lol, Cillian is married with kids but reader dont give a fuck like ok baddie

𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Cillian watched you in your window from his window, in his home, across from yours. Curiosity gets the best of everyone; sometimes you just wonder what your neighbours get up to. 

That’s what Cillian was doing — he was just curious about what the young, beautiful, sweet college student next door was up to. His house faced yours, which meant if you left your curtains open, he could see into your home…but in the year you’ve lived across from him, it’s not like he’d ever seen you do anything except the most mundane things. 

Flipping through the pages of your textbook and taking notes, calling your friends on the phone and giggling at something they said, posing adorably for some selfies in your kitchen to send to god knows who or post to god knows where. He didn’t understand it, but it was cute, reminding him of the years so far behind him now. 

It was innocent…until it wasn’t. 

You moved from your hometown with your parents to Dublin, Ireland a year ago, leaving your life behind and attending college here instead. Cillian talked quite a bit with your parents, hence the whole “neighbours” thing, but he always found you to be sweet…and his wife and kids seemed to think so too.

Last week, you’d mentioned to his wife that your parents were going to Italy for the next month to travel, and he couldn’t help but find himself wondering what you’d do when you were home alone. Probably studying, she seems pretty invested in school, he thought. 

It was almost time for his kids to go to sleep, and he could hear his wife talking to them as she got them ready for bed, but he stood in his living room and watched you through your bedroom window. You were giggling on the phone with who he assumed were your friends, and he sighed to himself as he saw your youthful smile. He was reminiscent of his younger years as he watched you.

He observed as you threw your phone down for a second on your bed, before getting up and— 

His jaw went slack as he did a double take. You casually started to take your clothes off and tossed them onto the floor of your bedroom, but that’s not what caused him to lose his composure. 

His eyes widened and his heart rate accelerated as his blue eyes wandered all over your figure, watching you from the window and unable to look away as he took in the lacy, intricate and extremely sexy lingerie you were wearing under that baggy sweater you had on not even a minute ago. 

The see-through lace hugged your body beautifully, and the material allowed him to see your perky breasts through the sheerness of it. He almost choked when you bent over to grab your phone from your bed again, as the lingerie left pretty much nothing to the imagination. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled aloud to himself, feeling his cock starting to strain against his pants. This was wrong. Oh, it was so wrong — but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

He watched with a clear hard-on now as you held your phone up, giggling to yourself as you started to pose and take pictures in the lingerie, presumably sending them to some very lucky guy. Who were you sending them to? Who was getting to see your body up close like that? Who—

“Honey?” His wife’s voice cut through his thoughts, and he turned around as she came into the kitchen. He leaned against the island in the middle of his kitchen to hide how hard he was. God bless this kitchen counter, he thought. “What are you looking at? I kept calling you upstairs.” 

“Right, erm,” he coughed, clearing his throat and turning around to your window to see you were no longer in your room. It was just an empty, dimly lit bedroom in his view now. “Nothing. Thought I saw a deer or somethin’ in the yard.” 

His wife hummed in acknowledgment, clearly unaware that he was just basically participating in some form of voyeurism with the girl next door who was young enough to be his daughter.

“Don’t forget to drop the dog off next door tomorrow at noon,” his wife reminded him, and Cillian’s breath hitched at the reminder.

Fuck. He forgot that his wife and kids were going to visit his wife’s side of the family for the week. He couldn’t go due to a conflict in his work schedule, but he was going to drive them there and pick them up the following week. He also forgot that his wife asked you to watch Scout, the dog, for the day while he drove them up there. 

“Cillian?” His wife asked as she looked at him with a raised brow. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, I heard you,” he said as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ll bring Scout over at noon tomorrow.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You’d just tossed on your most cozy oversized sweater and some short-shorts as you headed downstairs, hearing knocking at your front door. As you swung the front door open, you saw Cillian standing there with Scout, who started to wag his tail happily. 

“Hey,” you smiled at him before you started petting Scout. “And hello to you too, Scout!” 

As you took the leash from Cillian, he looked flustered as he swallowed, giving you a small smile. “Thank you again for watching him.” 

“Oh, it’s really no issue!” You assured him with a friendly smile. “I’m home all day studying anyways, and my parents are out of town for the next month. I could use the company — plus, me and Scout are best buds anyways.”

Scout barked happily, and you continued to give him a few more pats. Cillian couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander back to last night; the image of you in your sexy, lace lingerie was still fresh in his mind. He cleared his throat, “Well, I’ll come and swing by around 6 to pick him up. Not too late, is it?”

“Gosh, not at all,” you giggled, letting Scout roam through your home as you started to close the door slightly. “I’ll be up late studying so…” 

“Thanks again,” Cillian said, waving goodbye to you as you shut the door softly.

Later on that day, once Cillian returned home after dropping his wife and kids off at his mother-in-law's house, he knocked on your front door once more to pick Scout up. 

You opened the door and smiled sweetly as soon as you saw him, “Hi, Cillian! How was the drive?” Your voice gave him butterflies, and he knew it was wrong, but after seeing you and what you got up to after dark, he couldn’t help it. 

“Ah, it was good — boring,” he joked, his smooth, Irish accent making you blush a bit as you handed him Scout’s leash, to which he handed you something as well. 

He handed you an iced coffee with a warm smile, “Here — just a little thank you for watching Scout. I remember you saying iced coffee was your favourite a while back, plus you mentioned you’d be studying all night…” 

“You didn’t have to do that!” You said sweetly, returning his warm smile, and taking the coffee from him. “But thank you, I could definitely use the caffeine.” 

You waved him off as he left with Scout and closed the front door behind you. As you got back to your kitchen, you felt yourself getting giddy for some reason after your interaction with him, though you tried to push it aside. He was just your much older, super attractive, neighbour — oh, and he was married with kids. 

You shook the thoughts out of your head as you placed the coffee down on your kitchen counter, suddenly noticing some scribbled letters on the side of the clear, plastic coffee cup. When you spun it around, you saw a handwritten message on it, and your heart stopped for a split second. 

Thank you, pretty girl :) 

You blinked a few times as you stared at it. Your eyes lingered on the handwriting, momentarily caught off guard. Was he just being friendly or was there an ulterior motive behind it? 

The following day, you returned home from your classes, and as you got out of your car, you noticed Cillian coincidentally unlocking the front door to his house with some grocery bags in hand. He glanced up as he pushed open his front door and saw you, a friendly smile crossed his expression. 

“Following me home?” He teased, and you giggled whilst you shook your head, textbooks in hand. 

“I mean, if I was following you, I’d definitely be trying to sneak a peek at what you’re cooking for dinner.”

Seizing the moment, he decided to just be bold with it. “Yeah? Why don’t you come over then?” 

“…What, like right now?” 

“You can tell me all about your classes while I cook dinner,” he replied innocently as you walked over to his front door. His words made you feel awfully juvenile…and excruciatingly hot and bothered. 

As you got comfortable in his kitchen, he unpacked the groceries and you sat on a barstool against his counter, watching the way his t-shirt was ever so slightly too tight against his arms and chest, showing his muscles off. 

“Make yourself comfortable. How does pasta sound?” 

“My favourite,” you giggled. “...So, do you always invite your neighbours over to help with dinner or am I just special?” 

Cillian glanced over his shoulder as he prepped the ingredients. “You’re definitely special. I’m not usually this straightforward, but something about you…” He trailed off and the unspoken tension lingered in the air. 

“Speaking of being ‘straightforward’ — I have to ask about that coffee from yesterday.” 

“Oh? What about it?” He feigned innocence. 

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice the cute note on the cup. ‘Thank you, pretty girl’? It definitely caught my attention...” 

“I’m glad it did,” he chuckled before pausing for a moment. “…I meant it, though. You’re very pretty.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, and he turned back to look at you again, his blue eyes making your breath hitch. “I– well, thanks,” you laughed thinly with a blush. “Sorry–I just didn’t expect you to think…I just…” 

His gaze continued to linger on you as his expression softened. “I hardly think you find this surprising considering you must get guys chasing after you all the time,” he said as he took a step closer to you. “You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve…noticed you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you sensed some weight behind his words. “Oh? Noticed me how?” 

Cillian hesitated for a beat before he decided to push the boundaries, seeing how far this could go. How far you would allow him to take it. “I saw you the other night, through your window. Taking those pictures…”

You went wide-eyed as you let his words sink in. “You were watching me through my window?!” Your voice came out in a shocked whisper, and he bit his lip shamelessly.

“I didn’t mean to at first–” he choked out in an attempt to defend his behaviour. “But once I saw you I couldn’t look away…”

You paused, and the silence hung heavy in the air before you spoke up.

“Well, if you’re that curious, I could always show you the pictures. Or…” You swallowed as you looked at him, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I could just show what’s underneath my clothes right now...”

His eyes went wide and he got closer to you, hesitantly reaching his arm around your waist as he pulled you into him. His eyes darkened, breath catching on your words. He hesitated, clearly torn morally. “You know I’m married…” he whispered, but it seemed like he was attempting to remind himself that rather than telling you.

“Right…and I was sending those pictures to my boyfriend,” you casually replied. 

Cillian’s eyes flashed with something dark, a mixture of surprise and unspoken jealousy. His resolve broke completely, unable to hold back anymore. There was no point in pretending to resist now, and he let out a sigh as he cupped your face.

“So, we’re both breaking a few rules then?”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you looked up at him far too innocently for what was happening right now. “You know what they say about rules,” you whispered. “They’re meant to be broken.” 

Cillian suddenly closed the gap between you two, kissing you with a hunger that felt insatiable. His hands came to pull you right up against him, and you gasped into the kiss when you could feel how hard he was already. He’d barely even touched you. 

You kissed him back with a hunger that surprised you both, and your hands came to clutch onto his shirt. He backed you into the countertop, which started to dig into your back, but that was the last thing on your mind — him fucking you being the first. You continued to kiss each other feverishly until neither of you could stand the build-up anymore. 

Between sloppy, dirty, messy kisses and wandering hands all over one another’s bodies, he started to undress you right in the middle of his kitchen. You only hoped your other neighbours weren’t as “curious” as he was and god forbid they looked through his kitchen windows as he ran his warm hands all over you at this very moment.

“Shit,” he choked out when your clothes hit the floor, revealing some rather racy lingerie underneath. “Are you tryna’ kill me?” 

“Am I getting you all worked up?” You teased, as you ran your hands against his chest. “You know I’m young enough to be your daughter, right?” 

“C’mon, baby,” he groaned, tilting his head back as you cupped his cock through his jeans. “That shouldn’t turn me on but, fuck, you keep talkin’ like that and I’m not gonna last…”

“We haven’t even fucked yet,” you giggled, pulling him in for another kiss. “Do me a favour — try not to give yourself a heart attack when you put it in, okay old man?” 

“Shut up,” he scoffed a laugh before kissing you passionately again. His hands snaked behind you, unclasping your sheer, lacy bra before it fell to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your matching panties. In retaliation, you got him out of his shirt before he turned you around and pressed you against the cold marble of his kitchen counter.  

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbled as he gave your ass a light slap, causing you to moan. He slowly pulled your panties down from behind you, letting out a groan as he took in the sight of your drooling cunt, all soaked and ready for him to fuck.

He hoisted one of your legs up onto the kitchen counter and placed one of his hands on your hips. You heard his belt being unbuckled and his jeans being unzipped as he pulled his throbbing cock out, the tip flushed and leaking. He inhaled sharply as he pumped his cock a few times with his hand, before running his fingers through your dripping folds. 

“Look at that,” he cooed by your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “All soaked and ready for this cock, yeah?”

“Fuck,” you sighed, feeling him poke your entrance with the tip of his cock. “Need you inside of me, please.”

“Yeah, I bet, baby,” he said softly before pushing himself into you fully with one swift, long thrust. You let out a strangled noise at how he stretched the walls of your cunt and he moaned as his hands found purchase on your hips. Cillian wasted no time as he started to rock his hips back and forth, his thick cock going in and out of your wet, warm hole with ease.

He watched in awe as he looked down at his cock disappearing into your pussy, all warm, tight, and wet for him. “You’re so– fuck, baby. God, you’re so much tighter than my wife.”

“Oh my god,” you whined, his words only making you wetter as you heard your pussy making those squelching sounds. “A-am I?”

“Fuck, yeah you are,” he agreed, ramming into you faster now. You let out choked moans as you felt him pound his thick cock into your cunt, the tip of him reaching the deepest places inside of you. “Takin’ my cock like a good little girl, aren’t ya honey?”

“M–hmmm,” you mindlessly babbled, cock-drunk on his thickness. “Your good little girl…” 

“That’s right,” he purred, slamming himself as hard as he possibly could into you. “You’re my fuckin’ girl.” 

“Yeah…” You sighed, your body going slack as you tightened up around him. You hadn’t realized how close you were, and his arms came to wrap around your chest, pulling you against him as he rammed himself up into you deeper. Your head went slack too as you let it fall back against his shoulders. 

“Gonna come?” He cooed softly as he noticed how fucked out you were starting to get. “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock for me?” 

“Mmm,” you groaned as you saw stars, creaming his thick cock as you shut your eyes and continued to let him pound you senseless through your orgasm. “I’m…I–”

“And what was that earlier about me being old?” He joked as you failed to formulate a proper sentence, feeling himself about to come with you as he watched your mind go blank from his cock in your dripping, slick cunt. “Yeah, fuck — tightest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever felt.” 

Cillian felt himself pour his warm cum into your worn-out cunt, and he rested his head on your shoulder as he gave you a few more lazy thrusts from behind, still holding onto you tightly. The two of you were silent as you caught your breath in his kitchen, your body continuously being pressed up against his as he stayed buried deep inside of your hole. 

After a solid few minutes, he finally pulled out gently, making you whine. “Hang on, honey,” he said softly, placing a gentle kiss behind your ear. “Let me get a cloth.” He grabbed a towel from a kitchen drawer as his cum ran down your leg and dripped out of your cunt, before wiping it up gently. 

As he cleaned you up, he turned you around and you got lost in his hypnotizing blue eyes again. He laughed under his breath, cupping your face with his hands. “You’re so pretty,” he breathed, taking in your youth, your beauty and…you. All of you. “Just…beautiful.”

You blushed, smiling up at him dopily with a sigh as you leaned into his touch. For a moment, the silence between you was comfortable, but there was an undeniable weight to it. His eyes said something…unspoken. 

He let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’ll…I’ll figure something out,” he murmured, voice steady with emotion. “About my marriage. About us. About everything”

“Cillian,” you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness in his tone. “You don’t have to–”

He shook his head, his thumb still brushing against your cheek. “I do because we’re already too close,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “Too close to go back, too close to pretend this doesn’t matter.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat at his words, your heart beating much faster now. He softly bumped his nose against yours as he left a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. “We’ve already crossed the line, crossed every boundary,” he whispered. 

“But your family—” You started, the weight of reality pressing in. You could easily break things off with your boyfriend, but he had much more at stake than you did.

He cut you off gently, his gaze soft but unwavering. “I know what I’m risking, but I can’t pretend this doesn’t matter. You matter to me,” he paused in thought before he pulled you in again, tangling his hands in your tussled hair. “Like you said; rules are meant to be broken. If we’ve already broken every rule, then what else do we have to lose?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

𝑇𝐴𝐺𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebellebarnes @wiseyouthinfluencer

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat

@hfidnnf @strangeions @randomcreator-09

[luna0713hunter]

I'd die for you

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Summary : when Zoro is injured by Hawk Eyes,you cant help but to worry about him.

Warnings : none really, basically hurt/comfort,mentions of injuries and fear of losing the person you love aka Zoro, bickering couple

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"Wow," Sanji breaths, "Just,wow..."

You let out a whine and hide your face in your hands.

"Sanjiiii," you take hold of the cook's sleeve and shake him as hard as you can (which isnt much), "what should i do?! there's no way Zoro would actually like this!!!"

"I dont know," the blonde takes a spoonful of the soup you've made,which was oddly....black, "that blockhead should be thrilled that you put so much effort in making this for him!!"

You sniff,watching as Sanji swallows and school his expression,but not before his face paling slightly, "it just...has a little too much salt. And pepper...and.." when his eyes land on your defeated expression,Sanji smiles brightly again but it seems a little forced "and its absolutely delicious!!!i cant see how he cant possibly love this!"

"you're just saying that to make me feel better. You dont have to pretend,Sanji."

The cook gives you a charming smile and starts cleaning the kitchen, "if a man can't appreciate his woman cooking for him,then he doesn't deserve to taste it. So,y/n," he turns around from washing the dishes and smiles warmly at you, "don't be nervous. And remember you can always learn from your mistakes."

You smile back,and take hold of the bowl and walk our of the kitchen;a small skip to your steps.

"I'm going!!"

"Good luck with him!"

You giggle as you try to rush to where Zoro is; resting in his bedroom after you specifically asked him to rest.

It hasn't been long since he got injured by Hawk Eyes, and as much as he didnt want to admit those scars needed time to fully heal. And with him running around and fighting everyone in sight,it wasnt easy to actually make him rest. So after a small argument with him and some help from Sanji,you managed to cook something for him. The cook had mentioned that the herbs in the soup would heal him faster,but judging from how dark the food looked like,you may or may have not overcooked it. Only a little.

As you reach his room, you take a steady breath to calm yourself before knocking gently on the door.

"If its about your damn cooking or personal space again,i couldn't care less Sanji."

"Zoro,its me."

When the other side goes silent,you cant help but to roll your eyes playfully and grin. Sanji and Zoro couldn't get along for the life them and it never ceases to amuse you.

"...come in."

You take another breath as you finally open the door.

Zoro is,to your delight, actually resting on his hammock. His arms are folded behind his head as he stares at you when you walk through the door. The room is mostly dark,since he has a habit of drawing the curtains whenever Sanji is not around to nag at him. Your eyes momentarily traces the shape of the bandages under his shirt,before clearing your throat and moving to his side.

"i hope you're hungry. Sanji helped me cook this for you."

Zoro eyes the bowl in your hands,but doesn't move from where he's laying

"its not poisoned,is it?"

"i was cooking,what do you think?"

Zoro purse his lips and doesn't reply. You visibly gape at him and stump your foot angrily

"I'm not that bad at cooking!!"

"i didnt even say anything."

"your face says all i need to know!!" You huff and turn around, "maybe i should just give this to Luffy! I'm sure he would appreciate it,unlike someone."

You dont even have time to take another step before there are arms around your waist,not hard that you spill the soup,but enough to stop you from leaving.

"...give it here."

You dont turn around,but your lips twitch; Zoro could never say no to you.

"And why would i?"

"...cause I'm hungry and it smells...really good."

And when you finally turn around,you lift an eyebrow unamused.

"was that pause really necessary?"

"just give me the damn bowl."

You try really hard to hide your teasing grin,but judging from the scowl Zoro's wearing, you're not very successful at it.

You wait impatiently as Zoro blows the soup (which is totally unnecessary since its already lukewarm) and swallows a spoonful. You fidget with your fingers, tilting your head to side and looking at the man in front of you nervously.

"so?how is it?"

Zoro takes a moment before looking up at you.

"it's the best soup I've ever had."

There's a moment of silence where you just stare at the man in front you. He looks serious;no sign of his teasing grin or eye rolls. And when he sees you not responding,he just goes back to eating your black, burned soup.

Your eyes water and you try to muffle your sob.

At the sound, Zoro's head immediately snaps up,his eyes widening when they land on your crumbled form. He jumps to his feet and takes hold of your shoulders,caresses your cheek and wipes the tears away so gently that it has you crying harder.

"hey,hey. why are you crying?"

You shake your head and hide your face in his chest.

"i almost lost you Zoro..."

"but I'm-"

"you're not fine!!" You sob,and raise your face so you can watch his own twist into a frown as he watches your tears increase, "you almost died!! If it weren't for Zeff's help,you would've bled to death!i cant get the image of that sword slashing your chest out of my head!heck,i cant sleep without thinking of you dying in front of me Zoro!"

When you finally finish your little rant,your face is flushed and your breathing is uneven. Your mind wonders off to that cursed moment again,when a hand on your cheek pulls you back to your senses.

"breath," Zoro murmurs, "breath,babe. Its alright. Im fine;more than fine."

He rests his forehead against yours and puts your hand on his chest. Where you could feel his heart beating.

Alive and safe

"see?" He presses his lips to your heated skin and his hold on you tightens, "and, I'm getting so much better already with your magical soup."

At that,you let out a wet giggle and look up at him, sniffing, "really?"

"really."

And when he slowly steps back until he's laying on his hammock again,with your ear pressed against his beating heart,and the empty bowl of the soup on the floor;you feel your eyes slowly flutter shut.

"Sleep,love. I'll be right here when you wake up."

[gamblersdoll]

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐒?

ghostface! todoroki who plays out your sick fantasy.

mask kink, p in v, finger sucking, nipple sucking, fear tactic.

“are you sure you want to do this?” todoroki questions, a stoic but somewhat worry on his face. “what if something goes left and i hurt you?”

“you wont hurt me, baby.”

“what if you forget that we are doing something like this and you freak out?” he presses, fidgeting with his fingertips and avoiding eye contact.

“baby, if youre worried so much we dont have to do this.” you remind, kissing his cheek and a small smile. “i wont force you to do anything you dont want to do.”

“yeah, but i wanna make you happy, thats what im supposed to do.” he sighs,rolling his eyes at himself.

“and you are either way it goes.” you scratch his head, a soft groan from his throat as you dig your nails into him. “ill be happy and love you either way this goes.”

“okay,” he nods, tilting your head up and kissing your lips. “gotta go to the store for dinner, feeling like soba tonight.” he says, standing up and holding you for a minute. “love you.”

“i love you too.”

you eventually hear the downstairs front door close and lock, sleep taking over your body and you fluttering your eyes shut into a resting place and feeling your body start to drift away.

but, maybe an hour later, something does wake you up. a sound of something ruffling around, could be birds in the attic or maybe another fucking squirrel got into the dryer again. but, your sleepy brain not working right, you pull yourself out of bed and look at the time.

‘ten forty three.’

shoto isnt home yet?

walking downstairs, you turn the dryer light on, there wasnt any chipmunks or squirrels in there. and yet, you still hear noise from somewhere.

‘click!— front door open.’

your heart races a bit, looking over to the door to see what apparently is a man in all black, with a ghostface mask and he just stands there. you chuckle, rolling your eyes. “okay, shoto, you actually want to do this?”

no movement, just the man you think is your todoroki standing in place.

“helloooo?” you snap your fingers in his face, still no movements from the masked man, but scoff and fold your arms. “shoto, again if you dont want to do this—“

finally, the man who wasnt speaking, pulls out a small amount of rope. which was weird, todoroki doesnt really like ropes,being the fact it’s easy to get rope burn. you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise, your overthinking starting to save you. “are you not todoroki..?”

he shakes his head no, putting up five fingers.. and your legs do all the running on their own. he wasnt chasing you, no. but it still is fucking creepy.

that damn boy probably left the door unlocked!

you lock the door to the bedroom, scrambling to find your phone. you unlock it, dialing the number to his phone, and it picks up.

“todoroki— someone broke into—“

“no todoroki shoto here, little girl.” the other line says, making your heart drop and tremble within fear of somebody, something hurt him and was doing the same with you. “do you like scary movies?”

oh, thats how this fuck wants to do things? textbook definition?

you swallow thick, feeling rage and yet fear within your bones. “adore them.” you spit, peering out the window curtains.

“okay, lets play a little game then.”

“whats the name of that one big killer in silent hill?” the line asks, waiting on your response.

“pyramid head.” you confidently reply, getting a satisfactory chuckle. “if youre going to kill me, give me better questions so it means something.”

“ohh, youre so mean, what about your poor shoto?” he asks, a coo behind his words. “if you get all of them right, ill tell you where he is.”

you chew on your nails, anxiety pulling over you. you grunt, an approval of his mind games with you. “okay then, who was the first killer in scream?”

that almost threw you off, but you knew who it was. “there wasnt just one killer for that first girl.. casey was her name.”

“oh? mind to share with me and shoto?” he asks, you have to hold your tongue to try and not sacrifice his life on accident.

“billy called the girls phone, stu killed the boyfriend, billy killed the girl.” you say, knowing that you’re right about all of it, it was simple really.

“oh, what makes you so sure? how can you tell?” he asks again, curiously trying to see if you would second guess yourself. anyone would, especially in the scream movies. but you werent stupid, you watched enough of those movies to realize that mistake.

“billy was more fueled by rage and revenge, causing his movements to act erratically, stu was just there with him.”

“bingo! next question..” he cheers, a pause in the line. “in the paranormal realm, was it the conjuring that goes first, or annabelle?”

“annabelle, then conjuring.” you say, hearing a dissatisfied voice. “what?”

“are you sure about that? thats what you want to go with?” he asks, was this his trick again or were you wrong..?

“thats how they go, it wouldnt make sense if they were reversed.” you shout, hearing a small chuckle.

“you lose.” he says, the line ending and hands grab at your shoulders, a scream coming from your throat as you thrash and writhe in his hands.

he kneels down on your forearms, wrapping the rope around your body and hands as you still struggle. he was bigger than you, your legs and knees only able to kick air and some small parts of his back. you try to pry your way out of the rope’s confines, his hands starting to paw and push up at your clothes and your heart drops.

is this how it’s supposed to be? your boyfriend supposedly dead and you get the short end of the stick?

you look away, not bothering to watch yourself be ruthlessly taken by a masked killer who just happens to also be a fucking creep. you feel his hands on your body, warm but cold hands on your stomach.

warm and cold ?

his lips attach to your nipple, you jumping from the temperatures in his mouth. he mustve eaten something cold or something. or, maybe he had taken some kind of medication that makes him cold?

he swirls his tongue, his breath being pushed onto your skin, and the temperature of his breath is colder—

fucking todoroki, its been him this whole time.

your nerves relax all the way, getting the best confirmation of your lover being the one who has you in his reigns, his mouth on your nipple, and the one who is pulling his cock from his pants.

you wouldve thought it was someone else, since he shaved his shit apparently. he hears you chuckle, looking up at you. you try to bite back another, just imagining a ghostface mask staring up at you while positioning themselves against you— meanwhile knowing their identity.

“please dont kill me mr. ghostface, i wanna be in the sequel.” you feign fear, feeling his hands push you into the ground deeper and feeling his cock slip in, moaning about it. your clit jumps for a second, twitching from the cut pubes prickling against it for only seconds at a time.

the masked man kneels, pulling your body back and forth along his length as he hears your yelps and moans, them being elongated. the mans’ gloved fingers find their way into your mouth, you sticking your tongue out as he thrusts his fingers down and out your throat. his glove gets wet, soaked with your spit and you gag slightly when he has you throat his fingers.

his pace gets meaner, too honestly. his hips smacking against your rear and his other hand holds the ropes on your back, steadying himself and you. deep breathing can be heard through the mask, sometimes feeling the air become a little warmer but then colder. wet squelching and slaps of skin reverberated through the room, some of your hair becoming disheveled and ass becoming sore and red.

your moans becoming whiny, a light drenching of your essence and creamy rings along his cock as you curl your toes, “fuck—hah!”

the masked man breathes deeper as well, his hips slowing down as he stills inside of you. you feel his own ejaculation inside of you, making your folds slicker than any lubricant ever. the masked man lays you down, untying your restraints and pulling his mask off.

tuffs of red and white hair show themselves, and a worried shoto. “are.. are you okay—“

you bonk the top of his head, hearing a ‘ow’ after that. “what the hell, todoroki!” you squeal, shaking his arms. “what kind of idea was that?!”

“well.. you said that you wanted to try something new..” he says, his own hands on your shoulders shaking them.

“i know that much— but you scared the fuck outta me!”

“sorry.. how did you figure out it was me?” he asks, confused and worried eyes that stare and burn into yours. “was it that noticeable?”

“your palms are two different temperatures, and your mouth was cold.” you point out, pulling your shirt down and rubbing your wrists. “i almost didnt, because of the rope and the phone call— hold the fuck on, who answered the phone then?”

“uh.. midoriya?”

a knock comes to your front door, its about eleven twenty four at night. especially after tonight, todoroki walks you to the door, just in case you were still worried about anything. you weren’t worried in the slightest.

you unlock and open the door, green patches of hair the first thing you see. “uhm— hi there.” he says, the freckled boy rubbing the back of his head and a nervous chuckle.

“hi there, ghostface.” you say, both men tensing up and you fold your arms.

“well!—“ he starts, nervous and scrambling for an answer. “in my defense! todoroki cane to me about it and i wasnt trying to scare you too bad! i hope i didnt..”

“both of you did, so both of you can get beat up.” you say, watching izuku hand todoroki’s phone back. “but.. i guess i give credit when its due.”

“i hope i didnt cause any trouble..”

“you didnt, but its getting late.” you remind, the three of you saying goodbyes and a thought comes to you. you turn to tell izuku, “izu!”

he turns back and responds with a distant ‘yeah?’ wide eyes and a smile.

“annabelle comes before the conjuring, take more notes!”

[daddy-dylan291]

KINKTOBER DAY ONE-TEACH HIM

steve harrington x reader x eddie munson.

summary: eddie teaches steve how to fuck reader after finding out in a playful game of truth or dare that he was still a virgin despite all the rumors

it wasnt uncommon to find the three of you together. in fact it was more uncommon to find you apart, espically during the summer. the heat was intense, luckily it was cooler the later it got in the evening but the sun still beamed threw the gap in steves curtains.

the trio of you, were sitting in different places sprawled out across steves bedroom. eddie sitting with his legs thrown out infront of him on steves bed,dark curls falling infront of his face as he rolls another joint.

steve sitting by the window, one foot placed fully on the floor the other bent with his head leant against it. the window open next to him the slight breeze that blew in feeling amazing against his burnt shoulders.

and finally you, sitting on the floor, laid out on your stomach flicking threw a comic book you found under steves bed. your legs just swinging slightly behind you as you hum along to the distant sound of whatever song was coming out of the jukebox on steves desk.

"cant you think of something more interesting?" you sighs rolling your eyes slightly.

the group of you had been playing truth or day for the past 20 minuets. and the truths and dares were boring. nothing out of the ordianary 'i dare you to lick your own foot' eddie's dare always were distgusting. or steves 'truth: how many lies have you told?'

"like what?" eddie scoffs, himself brushing his hair out of his face aagain as he packs up the rolling tray and grinder on his lap tucking them back away into his little box.

"i dont know, something a bit more fun" you mutter, your eyes darting away from your comic to glance over at steve seeing him looking between the two of you, an almost bored expession on his face to match yours.

“Okay...okay, so who’s next?” Eddie grinned, running a hand through his messy hair as he shuffles to the end of the bed the joint being pushed to sit behind his ear making you look over at him.

His deep brown eyes danced with mischief as the group of friends stared at each other, a mix of curiosity and anticipation hanging in the air, in hopes that the large feeling of boredem would quickly fade.

“I’ll go” Steve grunts, trying to mask the slight yawn in his voice. He leaned forward, his heart pounding a little faster than usual as he notices the gimmer in eddies eyes. that wasnt there before was it?He was always nervous around Eddie—there was something magnetic about him that both thrilled and intimidated Steve.

but he wouldnt ever admit that to anyone.

“Alright, Steve!” Eddie leaned back, eyes glinting with delight. “Truth or dare?”

“Uhh, truth,” Steve replied, his face warming under Eddie’s playful gaze.

Eddie’s lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is it true that all those rumors about you being a stud in the bedroom are actually just rumors?”

the question made Steve’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of crimson, his timid façade crumbling under the scrutiny.

your quick to look at eddie with wide eyes, yes the three of you wasnt shy when it came to sex but this was a big change compareed the previous questions that had been asked.

" you dont have to answer steve eddies just being an asshole" you speak quickly sitting up a small smile on your face as you look at steve before glancing back at eddie with wide eyes.

“Actually… that’s really not true. I’m… well, I’m still a virgin.” His confession hung heavily in the air, and the room fell silent, where laughter had just flowed freely.

Eddie was momentarily stunned, his mouth slightly agape as he processed Steve’s words. “No way. Really?” His tone was teasing but there was an underlying sense of curiosity in his voice.

your were shocked, there was no way. not with how you had heard rumors all the way threw school so far, about steve harrington. king steve.

"so you and nancy never?" i ask staring at him making the blush more apparent on his cheeks, he shakes his head his feet now both coming to firmly lay on the ground infront of him as he turns fully towards me and eddie.

“no erm...yeah, well, I guess it’s just never been the right time, you know?” Steve shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the heat radiating from his face. you could see the way that he was getting uncomfortable....in his mind his body was racing, he felt flushed. hot. and was confused by the way you was frowning up at him.

A sly grin broke across Eddie’s face. “Well, well, well! I think it’s time someone taught you how to have some fun, don’t you?” His eyes flicked toward you, a glint suggesting he had a devious plan forming, he stood up quickly, both yourself and steve looking at him with confused and shocked eyes.

You felt a flutter of excitement mixed with trepidation. You loved Eddie—his slightly dominant persona always made your heart race. But there was a curiosity and closeness with Steve that made you feel equally drawn to him. You looked between the two boys, sensing the charge in the air.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Steve asked, his brows furrowing slightly, though you could see the intrigue building.

"eds?" you ask watching eddie walk past you, his hand reaching out to pet your head a small shush coming out of his lips as he walks over to steve.

standing just infront of him, steve looks up at eddie. now that the munson boy was closer he could see the pink flushed look on steves cheeks and the way that his eyes were glazed over just the smallest amount.

eddie would have to fix that he thought.

“Dare!” Eddie smirked, a challenge in his tone., as he reaches out and took steves chin in his hand. you wacthed from your place sat on the floor, the way steve was looking up at eddie, the hold your boyfriend had on his bestfriends chin making your cheeks match steves.“I dare you, Steve, to… you know, make sweet love to my girlfriend here.” He flashed a cocky smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief, the implication weighting his words.

You gasped, feeling your heart race. “Eddie, wait!” But deep down, there was a part of you that was curious, that wanted to explore this dynamic.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Eddie said smoothly, as he walked over to you holding a hand out for you stand up, instantly taking it, a concerned look in your eyes as you glance over to steve before feeling eddie push your face to look at him instead. leaning in and placing a soft kiss against your temple. "it'll be fine."

The air thickened with intensity as you looked into Steve’s eyes—his nervousness apparent but laced with a hint of excitement. You bit your lip, feeling the swirl of emotions ready to erupt.

"is this what you want?" you whisper eyes slowly falling back onto steve as he sits on the window bench still, his eyes stuck on the two of you.

you left eddies arms as you walked over to steve, eddie making his way to sit back down on the bed. the whole tone in the room and air thickening as you stepped over to steve and stood between his legs.

"if you dont-" you go to speak but feel steve slowly reach up and place his hands on your hips.

"i...erm...i want...to" steve stutters slightly, the way his fingers brush lightly against your hips is a good contrast compared to the way eddie normally grabs you and tugs you against him, leaving bruises in his shadows.

“Okay,” you murmured, feeling a strange new warmth rush through you. “But… how?”

you and steve found yourselfs standing by the bed awaiting eddies comands, on one had you wasnt shy when it came to sex. you and eddies sex life was fairly acivate. you and steve just didnt want to cross a line. after all you were still eddies girl.

Eddie took charge, motioning for you both to lie back on the bed. “First, just relax, Steve. It’s all about the connection, alright? You’ve got to feel the moment.”

Steve nodded, visibly trying to suppress his anxiety as he settled himself on the bed, his back leaning against the headbpard, leans parted slightly. eyes just starig over at eddie. The chemistry crackled—Eddie’s dominant nature mingling effortlessly with your sweetness, and Steve’s shyness turning into a compelling curiosity.

You shivered slightly as Eddie placed his hands on your waist,lifting you up, and placing you on steves lap, instantly your legs widening to strddle his waist, knees digging into the sheets on either side of his hips.

“No pressure, okay? Just be yourself, Steve. You’re a sweet boy, and I know you can do this.” Eddie’s praise wrapped around Steve like a warm embrace, igniting a spark of confidence in him.

you glanced over at eddie as he went to sit on the bench by the window tugging the joint from behind his ear, he smirks feeling the way both me and steve were looking at him for direction.

"well dont look at me" eddie chuckles before gesturing towards us again, in an almost shooing motion.

the blush on yours and steves cheeks were incredibley apparent as you both turned to look back at each other. steves hands lifting to rest on your hips again.

"kiss her then"eddie chuckles once again, he couldnt believe how adorable king steve really was. it was shocking, to watch the way steve fumbled at first his hand slowly raising to rest on your cheek before you both brought your lips together.

steve slowly kisses you, you could feel how unsure he was, how he didnt really know what he was doing. moving his mouth with yours slowly, you placed your arms around the back of his neck just leaning into him as your kiss deepened. eddie smirked in the background lighting his joint.

the smacking noise of your lips together was ringing threw the room, as a sudden confidence in steve made him lower his other hand to your behind, and slowly rolling your hips into his

eddie watched a smile on his face as he smokes his joint, his eyes training onto the way steve had his tongue in your mouth, the way he grinds your hips into his, a sudden quiet whimper slipping from your lips.

"alright alright"eddie's words made you and steve quickly pull away, staring at each other, it was apparent by the way you both pant and stare darkly into each others faces. you both wanted each other.

With coaxing laughter and gentle touches, a newfound intimacy blossomed. Eddie guided Steve’s hands to your body, whispering encouragement, reminding him of the thrilling dance of exploration. Every tentative caress sent shivers along your spine, your head quickly becoming floaty with anticipation.

“Eddie… I—” Steve’s voice wavered, confusion and wonder mingling together as he gazed at you, before slowly looking over to the munson boy smoking.

eddie runs his tongue across his top teeth before balencing his joint on the window and walking over to the bed.

“It's okay, just follow my lead,” Eddie said, a commanding tone lacing his voice, but filled with care.he grabbed a hold of the back of your neck, pulling your hazing eyes away from steve to stare up at him. he rgins looking down at how flustured you were,He captured your lips in a heated kiss, igniting the fire within you, and you felt your heart thrumming in sync with the moment.

As Eddie’s lips found yours, you felt Steve’s hesitant hands grow bolder, exploring your curves. You whined softly against Eddie’s mouth, the pleasure brewing inside you feeling the way that steve ground your body against his again, the thrill of being the center of their attention making your heart race.

you could feel how wet you were, how hard steve was under you.a whimper coming from your lips made eddie pull away, his hand still holding the back of your head.

"you want to show stevie how much of a good girl you can be?"eddie's tone was full of domiance, but so much care. you knew he was just double checking again that you wanted this.

you nod, a small smile on your face as eddie lets go of your neck making you quick to look at steve.

"take em off pretty boy"eddie also turns his attention to steve, the boy quickly looking at him with a glazed expression. eddie lifting you off the harringtons lap to help you remove your joggers and t-shirt, leaving you in just your bra and panties.

steve did just that taking off his jeans with shaky hands, leaving him still in his boxers, eddies eyes roaming over the large buldge in the boys underwear. the small trail of hair that leads out from benith the fabric running up to his chest.

without saying anything else eddie lifts your body back onto steves, a gasp coming out of the both of you feeling the way your cores brush against each other as you straddle him and sit on his lap again.

"kiss her"eddie's gruff voice spits out, he couldnt deny the way that this was making him feel. watching the way that steve brings your lips to his again hungrily.more confident in his moves this time.

eddie had to strip himself of his own t-shirt and jeans before sitting down on the edge of the bed his hands slowly reaching over to placy with the hair at the back of steves neck. steve shivers his hips that were once slowly starting to rut again yours, shaking slightly at the feeling of both of you touching him.

"relax" eddies calm voice speaks out to him, guiding him slightly, his hand moving from steves hair to the hand that he had on your waist. fingers interlocking before eddie showed him exactly how to grind your hips against his in the best way, the best way to make the both of you feel good.

the moment he did a groan left steves lips, a whimper leaving yours.

"thats it,harrington..doesnt she sound pretty"eddie smirks, he was smug with the way that you and steve's lips pulled a way from each other, lips red and swollen, eyes heavy and filled with lust.

eddie reached up again this time, his hand locking in your hair tugging your head back slightly, a gasp leaving your mouth as your neck was revealed to steve.

"this little spot right here"eddie his breath was hot against the side of your neck as he brought himself closer to the two of you, now kneeling on the bed. he leans down sucking a harsh mark into your soft skin just behind your ear making you fill the room with a whimper, holding back the moan that was threatening to fall."thats the spot, have a go"eddie says a proud grin on his lips, seeing the way steve was watching so closely.

with eddies hand still in your hair, your neck still revealed steve tiltings his head towards you before going to the same spot, his breath hot like eddies but more shakey as he pressed his hot lips against your skin and started to suck.

the way your hips shook was like nothing you'd felt before. yes whilst eddie was amazing and felt rough and raw. steves lips felt soft againt your skin the way he was sucking your skin into his mouth felt needy, making you release that moan that was building up.

steve contiuned to leave kisses across your neck, leaving slightly lighter bite marks than eddie normally does but it still felt amazing.

you gasped when you felt eddies ringed finger brushing against the side of your panties.

"just gonna get you ready for him doll"eddies soft voice speaks as he nudges your underwear to the side, his fingers quick to slip onto your clit, the way he rubbed slow circles against it at first, and the feeling of steves wet sloppy kisses to your neck had your whining out. hands tugging at the hairs at the back of steves neck.

the whine made steve pull away and his eyes darted down to see what eddie was doing, eyes mesmerised by the way he was able to pull whimpering whines from your lips.

"i...i..." you try to speak, eyes going to eddie, finding him staring back at you. a smug expression on his face as he brushes your hair behind your ear.

"shhhh" his hand comes to brush over your head, tugging your face towards his as he brings your lips against his again, steve watching the way you submit into eddies hold straight away.

whilst eddies tongue easily pushed it's way into your mouth his fingers stopped there circles and moved to push at the enterance to your hole.

"p-please" you whimper against eddies lips, forgetting steve was even there for a moment.

"eyes on stevie baby"eddie whispers to you, making him whimper, the munson boy turning your head to look at steve.

meeting the harrington boys eyes, he smiles warmly at you, both of you hot and flushed,you both looked like a pair of horny teenagers.

when eddie pushed a finger into you, your mouth feel open, eyes quickly closing and body leaning into steves.

quick gasps leaving your lips as eddie moved his fingers inside of you.

eddie knew it wouldnt take long to stretch you open enough to take steve. he glanced over to the two of you noticing the way steve was holding your body against his lips back onto your neck.

it seemed like he liked leaving those small brusies into your skin. the thought made eddie pick up his pace, your body was shaking on steves lap. his own grunts were starting to leave his lips, as you rutted against him.

eddie slowly pulled his fingers out of you, your eyes shooting up to glare at him quickly.

"but-" you go to speak but you noticed the way he was shaking his head,

"you wanna cum on his cock or not you slut?"his words were mean but had you smiling. stevees eyes widening at the name he gave you.

whilst you climbed off steves lap to remove your underwear, eddie sat down next to steve.

"take these off for me"eddie speaks tapping steves hip, the boy nodding his hesd quickly like an obedient dog. his hips lifting to shift his boxers down quickly before throwing them off the side of the bed.

eddies eyes roamed over steves cock, as did yours. your eyes widening.. he was big. bigger than eddie. made not as thick as him but definetly longer.

you bit your lip watching the way eddie glances up at steve face before slowly reaching out placing his hand around the base of the body cock.

the gasp that left steves throat, oh my you wanted to hear that again and again. with a small grin you climbed back onto the bed too. watching the way eddie slowly brings his mouth down onto the tip of steve's cock. the way steve threw his head back instantly, had yourubbing your thighs together as you knelt on the bed.

you knew eddie wasnt exactly straight, you knew that he had a fantacy of wanting to share you with someone else. you just never believed how hot it would make you feel. watching your boyfriend open his mouth futher and take his bestfriends cock deeper into his mouth had you whimpering.

watching the spit that drooled out of eddies mouth and into the small amount of steve pubic hair.

steve was gasping, groaning, any sort of noise that could leave his lips was, before eddie pulled off him, a smirk on his face as he brings his thumb to the side of his mouth wiping away a mixture of precum and spit.

"come ere pretty" eddie speaks holding a hand out for you making you smile at him before taking his hand and shuffling back over to kneel, knees either side of steves hips.

steve looks up, still breathing heavily, his eyes scanning your naked frame, eyes roaming over your chest before landing on your pussy.

staring at the way eddie brings his hand to his mouth mouth you watch as he spits into his palm before slowly rubbing his fingers between your folds.

a whimper leaving your lips as you lift your hips upwards, eddies other hand coming to land on steves cokc, holding the base of it.

"go slow baby"eddie talks to you as you nod, your eyes going to steves as you look at him once again, checking he was okay with this. seeing nothing but list and pleasure and want, you slowly lower yourself down.

feeling his head brushing against your folds you gasp, steve quickly reaching out to grab your hips.

"ah ah slow"eddie tuts, his other hand that wasnt holding steves shaft coming to pick steves fingers off your hips.

steve grunts slightly as you slowly lower your self down onto him, taking him deeper and deeper the two of you breathing heavily, steves eyes watching the whole time as you sink onto him. your eyes closing, squeezing shut,

at first it was painful, you'd not even taken anyone or anything this big before, but when you finally felt the way steve was bottomed out. the feelin of all of your weight now resting on his own. the way he was burried as deep as he could be inside of you

slowly, eddies hands gripped your hips and pulled you up, his own cock was pushed painfully against his own boxers left and forgotten about. tonight was about steve.

"fuck..."steve groans out, feeling the way your inside's clenched around him as eddie lifted you off his cock slightly before lowering you back down again.

"just like that huh?"eddie taunts, a smirk on his lisp as he watches steves face closely, he couldnt deny the way his own cock was leaking seeing the please steve was experiancing. the way his breaths were short, a layer of sweat starting to wet the tips of his hair that brush against his forehead."your turn"eddie speaks, his words gentle as he takes steves hands in his and places them on your hips slowly guidng steve on how to rock your hips into him and lift you up enough that you could sink back down.

your body felt like it was on fire, everything was so hot, the way steves fingers lightly held your hips, the way his cock was slowly moving in and out of you. it was a stark contrast to the way that you and eddie normally fucked.

not rough and needy, not raw and harsh. no steve was slowly guidng himself in and out of you at a steady rythm, his eyes stcuk on your enterance taking him.

your own whimpers left your lips as you held yourself up right,eyes watching his face like eddies did. you felt eddie movng behind you and expected him to place his hands on you again but he didnt.

instead he climbed off the bed and went back to the window, you tossing your head over your shoulder confused, a throaty whine leaving your moan.

"eddi-" you try to whimper, steve moving slowly still inside you.

"pay attention to steve dollface" eddie gestures to the other boy making you whimper but turn to face steve, your hand now landing to rest on his chest.

eddie sits down on the bench by the window, his fingers reaching out to pull his own cock out of his boxers, his hand quickly grabbing the base of it and tugging at it. the angle he had was incredible. he wacthed the way steves balls bounced against your skin each time that he thrusted inside of you. the way your head was throan back slightly, the sunlight that was shining into the room showing the sweat that was rolling down your back.

“Good boy, just like that, Steve,” Eddie encouraged, his voice sultry and deep. “You’re doing so great.”

eddies voice made steve whimper himself, your eyes opening to stare at his face as he makes that noise. you'd never heard eddie make such a vunerable noise before. it made you grind your hips down deeper onto him, wanting him to make the noise again.

"fuck, feels so good" steves voice was short and almost whiny as he speaks, your own whimpers matching his as he starts to quicken his pace.

Steve’s initial shyness peeled away layer by layer in the wake of Eddie’s guidance. With every gentle kiss and soft sigh, the connection between the three of you only intensified. when eddie praised Steve, the dominant energy mixing with soft encouragement, made steve beam with newfound confidence that was intoxicating to witness.

You found yourself floating in a haze of pleasure, both from Eddie’s steely gaze and Steve’s delicate exploration. It was a whirlwind of sensations—the way their energies merged together, molding a dance that was both thrilling and intimate.

in the background you could hear the way eddie was fisting his own cock, the scene making himself grunt into his own hand.

when steves hips started to stutter, you knew he was close and you knew you was to. seeing the way a frown etched into his forehead as he focused on thrusting up into you, your head is throne back as you gasp turning to look over at eddie.

"close princess?"eddies voice comes out gruff and deep as you stare at him rubbing his hand up and down his own shaft at the same speed steve was pushing himself into you.

"yeah" steves reply made both you and eddie look at him, eddie smirking seeing the completely fucked out expression on the harrington boys face, his hips still moving, hands digging more into your hips.

"let go stevie, fill her up for me"eddies voice was strong and domianting as he watches steves eyes screw shut quickly, his hips shooting up to thrust a particullar deep thrust into you, shoving himself so deep inside you it had you coming undone at the same time.

your own eyes screwing shut, lip bitten between your teeth as you feel him stuttering inside you, your walls clenching around him quickly. steve doesnt bother to pull out of you, or even move as you both ride your highs. the feeling you was both feeling was intense, amazing euphoria.

you laid on his chest his cock still inside you, both of you sweaty and out of breath, one of his hands lifting to wrap around your waist.

5 minutes passed and neither of you had moved but you was both breathing more slowly, when you felt eddies rough palm brush against your back you jumped at first, before he started to rub it up and down.

"just me baby, come ere" he speaks slowly, his tone more gentle now compared to the rough and domiant one he once used.

he lifts you up slowly, when steves dick slides out of you the pair of you groan slightly before eddie lays you on the bed next to steve. a wet rag he must have grabbed from the bathroom made its way between your legs cleaning you up before he helped you slide a t-shirt over your head.

"lay back down" eddie speaks slowly pushing you to lay down, before he walks over to steves side of the bed.

the harrington boy was blushing still, now sitting up more with his back against the headboard.

"got you a fresh pair"eddie speaks holding out a pair of clean boxers for steve making him smile appreciatively at him before shifting to slide them on.

"did you-" you quickly speak looking over at eddie, your eyes roaming down his body noticing the way he was wearing his boxers once again, the tent he once had, no longer there.

"yeah sweetheart, dont worry about me"eddie chuckles warmly, before he pushed steve to lay back down, you quick to cuddle into steves side which made eddie smile.

steve felt a bit awkward at first, when eddie walked back over to the window, and sat smoking his joint. laid in bed with his girlfriend after just fucking her. your head rested on steves chest, the blanket that eddie had pulled over the two of you resting just above your hips.

but steve smiles slightly, as eddie comes walking over to the bed and climbed in next to him, himself wrapping his arm around the boy making steve sigh happily leaning into his touch.

"so harrington? how was that?"eddie asks, one hand reaching up to brush his fingers threw steves hair, his legs intertwining with yours under the blanket.

"that was.....amazing"steve didnt have the words, he was glad that he got to lose his virginity in such a happy and safe enviroment. glad that he had someone to show he how to do it. he couldt deny the way that after all of that he felt.

but he tensed slightly now thinking of what was going to happen next. even if eddie and you wanted to do this again, steve wasnt sure he could. he wasnt just going to be the person you two come to when you want to spice up your sex life.

"i should erm, go i think robin wanted to hang out" steve mutters trying to sit up making you frown sitting up too, eddie quickly pushing him back down, hand on his shoulder,

" whatever your head is telling you right now, it aint true"eddie grunts, shaking his head, his eyes sticking into steves as steve sighs.

"do...do you want to go?"your voice speaks up, it was quiet and unsure as you saw steves nervous face.

"i erm...i dont wanna intrude"steve mutters, still staying put however. not moving after eddie told him to stay

"sweetheart after what we just did, you aint going anywhere"eddie chuckles laying back down tugging steve and you closer to himself.a relief filled sigh leaving steves mouth as he hum happily one hand around your waist, his head resting on eddies chest"but can we talk about the whole princess thing" eddie chuckles looking down at steve with a knowing look, the boy just blushing back at him.

you watched the two of them with a warm smile, knowing things were going to be much different from this day on, and you honestly prefered it. after today you found yourself looking at steve in a way that you never did before.

you couldnt imagine doing anything without him, or eddie.You felt complete, the puzzle pieces of your relationships fitting together in a way you had never anticipated. You had opened a door to new experiences, ensuring laughter, warmth, and a whole new understanding would linger well beyond the melding of your bodies.

[beansprean]

A mini comic for "Your Biggest Fan" by @phasmama (part 1 of ?)

I just love comic-fying fics idk!! why dont u commission me about it

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Knees up of Guillermo, wearing brown chinos and a short sleeved peach shirt unbuttoned to his chest, sitting down heavily at the edge of his cot beneath the stairs. He looks flushed, sweaty, and tired, elbows planted on his knees as he slumps forward with a heavy sigh, holding something in his dangling hands. His phone is laying face up on the bed nearby. A small icon in the top left corner reads '82 degrees Fahrenheit', which is about 28 degrees Celsius. 1b. Close up of Guillermo's hands as they shift to reveal what he's holding: a vintage folding fan with a brassy silver-tipped guard inlaid with pink rose patterns. He holds it closed, one hand on either end, a riot of colors on the folded leaf suggesting an intricate pattern within. 1c. Repeat. Guillermo flips the fan open with the rivet in his right hand to reveal the design within: an intricate painting of people in robes and dresses standing in front of a series of columns and statues. 1c. Zoom out to wide shot; waist up. Guillermo tips his head back, eyes closed, and smiles in bliss as he fans himself, little swirls of blue snowflakes indicating the cooling effect. 1d. Repeat. The phone sitting on the bed beside him suddenly lights up, a red alarm-clock-shaped icon springing up with a loud ring, reading 'back to work!' Guillermo opens his eyes and frowns, irritated. In a swift motion, he snaps the fan closed and swings it around to tap at the screen, turning the alarm off without looking.

2a. Chest up of Guillermo at 3/4 angle as he slumps over with another heavy sigh, eyes closing as he begins to sweat and flush again from the heat. His right hand holds the closed fan up idly near his face. 2b. Extreme close up of Guillermo's mouth as he absently touches the tip of the fan to his lower lip, pressing into the pink flesh. 2c. Reverse shot, wide, Guillermo in profile in the foreground and the curtain to his room beyond. It is yanked open suddenly to reveal Nandor standing beyond, wearing a brass colored tunic and sleeveless fur overcoat and posed with one hand on his hip. He shouts imperiously, "Guillermo!" and prepares to give orders. Guillermo doesn't even flinch at the intrusion, just blearily opens his eyes halfway with the fan still pressed to his mouth.

3a. Waist up of Guillermo at 3/4 angle as he rolls his head up to look at Nandor with an expectant frown, closed fan held up in his right hand. 3b. Waist up of Nandor at a diagonal angle, background all black with a white starburst of shock as Nandor stares down at Guillermo, frozen and gray, with wide eyes and a slack jaw. 3c. Wide shot, shoulders up of Guillermo in profile in the foreground, Nandor knees up in the background. Guillermo looks at him with half-open eyes, closed fan poised in front of his face and a question mark drifting around his head. Nandor continues to stare with the largest eyes possible, frozen in place with one arm still outstretched to hold the curtain aside. 3d. Repeat. Nandor finally snaps out of it and swings his free arm up to point accusingly at Guillermo, shouting angrily, "What are you doing with that, Guillermo? That is not a toy for naughty familiars to be playing with!" Guillermo opens his eyes fully and looks down at the fan in surprise.

4a. Shoulders up of Guillermo staring in surprise at his open hand as Nandor quickly snatches the fan from him. 4b. Waist up of Nandor from Guillermo's POV as he leans away, holding the closed fan in his right hand and hiding it protectively behind his left cheek. He stares wide eyed and flustered down at Guillermo and whines, "This is very special, given to me by the Queen of Laszlo's homeland! 4c. Waist up of them both in profile as Guillermo stands from his bed, rubbing sweat from his cheek with a forearm. Nandor takes a step back in alarm, still holding the fan protectively out of reach. Guillermo says, "I'm sorry, Master. I shouldn't have touched it. What did you need my help with?" 4d. Repeat. Nandor calms and straightens up, looking away nervously as he replies, "Oh! Yes. I would like to have a cooling bath. Come attend me. Guillermo slumps again and sighs, obediently responding "Of course, Master." 4e. Later; full body of Nandor lounging in an old fashioned brass tub filled with ice water on a hazy green background. The tub seems much too small for him; he is sitting up with his elbows perched on the far end and his left leg bunched up in front of him, knee poking out from the water. His right leg is fully extended and hanging over the edge of the tub. Nandor's hair is gathered up in a messy bun and he is holding the fan in his right hand, staring at it thoughtfully as he opens and closes it with a thumb. /end ID

[nvuy]

dulcet — sunday

summary. it is within the safest parts of the world that sunday loses himself, and it seems that only you can provide him the salvation he desperately searches for.

notes. i wrote this for mags :)))) hiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!! confiteor part three THATS IT. DONT ASK ME FOR ANOTHER ONE. you can read part one and two here or on tumblr if you want. i'd recommend because this series is mind boggling. i wish you all an open mind, because if this confuses you, that's the point.

warnings. mdni, 18+, gn reader with fem anatomy, you are implied to do street work, crazy freaky shit, long ass 11k post, whatever form of body worship this counts as, sunday needs to be medicated asap and needs therapy, angst if you look at it with your eyes open, religious guilt & themes, and again its literally just a dirty smashing session. nobody is surprised.

Sunday laid and simply waited for sleep to come. It was dark now, and the clock on the other side of his room was ticking and ticking with each minute that passed. Something twitched with every noise; a finger, his eye, his lips. 

Exhaustion crept behind his eyes, and yet they refused to remain shut. Every tick of the clock, every creak of the bed, every single noise he heard put him on edge. He stiffened like a corpse when the sheets moved. 

It’s just him. 

It was just him and nobody else. It had become harder and harder to convince himself that he was alone. This was his bedroom; the same four walls he surrendered himself to every night and prayed to see tomorrow morning. A home such as his didn’t warrant nor promise his safety when he laid his head to rest. 

And that was what had scared him. The window to his bedroom was cracked open just a tad; he had his rhythm. All the windows shut and the door locked tight from the inside. Any draft of wind from outside would stir him awake in an instant, as well as the fact that anyone would contort through the gap and come forth and touch him and– 

Sunday only clutched at the neckline of his shirt to calm himself. Usually, he’d twist his hand into the pendant he wore around his throat, but that was stowed away in its jewellery box — and Robin had highly discouraged the bad habit because he was growing ghastly scars on his palm from repeatedly splitting the skin open on the white gold charm. 

He swallowed hard, and the lump in his throat remained. He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tight in frustration. He tried to relax, loosening the tension in his shoulders and stiffness in his legs, but he locked up again almost immediately.

Like a corpse. 

He could hear tapping outside of his room again. Clicking of heels, footsteps trailing back and forth down the hall. There was no light bleeding beneath the door, but shadows passed beneath as if someone was standing outside. Waiting. 

Sunday turned over and faced the window. It’s open. He stiffened up even more and swallowed even harder. It shouldn’t be open. He found no courage to stand up and close it himself; the floor would be too cold. His feet are bare. The wind picked up hastily and the silk curtains drifted lazily like the breeze did not freeze him to his bones. 

At the same time, he felt hot in his skin. Burning like the sun, like hot wax and sweat glittering down his skin. Like rain and sand and molten metal mixed into his chest, ready to burst through the flesh and leave him without a heart. The pathetic muscle beat frantically despite having to convince himself there was nobody here. 

He knew there was nobody in the room with him. He knows this. There’s never anyone with him. 

And yet, he felt as if one thousand different eyes were peering down from the shadowed corners and staring and peeling back every layer of his skin and delving into his very being. And it hurt. Like lead weighed down his bones. Like he couldn’t move a single muscle in his body. 

So he laid there and hurt. 

He tried to breathe as the feeling entrenched through his veins and twisted against the walls of his organs until he was swallowed whole by whatever this was. Stabbing and burning and bruising blossomed in his legs. Breathe. Just breathe. 

He tried to think of birds. The old small doves outside of the window that used to visit him when he was very, very small. Small enough that he remembered being accompanied by his mother, and too little that Robin wasn’t even in the picture yet. He would lean over the windowsill and reach out a small hand to one of them. Usually, they’d run away, but he found if he remained still for long enough, they’d curiously come close and use his hand as a branch. 

That was years ago. 

He shook harder and pressed his lips together. He couldn’t tell if he could see something in the corner of the bedroom, but he couldn’t move his head to affirm it. He felt eyes. Eyes and mouths and hands and they reach lower and lower and beneath his clothes and he can’t breathe. 

He felt claws. 

The pointed ends of them sank deep into his stomach, the flesh denting and daring to tear beneath the tips. He swallowed hard, hard enough that the lump in his throat cut into his jugular. 

And that familiar sensation of heat began to return. Again. He finally found the strength to let a finger by his side twitch, and he realised then the hand delving towards his navel was his own. His nails tap at the skin again and again as if waiting, as if his hand had its own mind. He felt it did. 

He felt it was yours. 

He finally turned over to face away from the window and tucked his hands beneath the pillow underneath his head. The clock in his room ticked away. His heart beat in tune. 

Why does it hurt? 

Paranoia set its teeth into his neck, and he had the love bites to show for it. He remembered the feeling of sharp canines digging into his flesh and ruining his throat. And he remembered crying out, not from fear as he did now, but from the pain, the rushing of blood through his veins, and the hot press of skin against skin. And that feeling. 

Alive. 

That’s what it was. His blood boiled, and he was afraid, but he felt alive. Above this plain, and the next, and in your arms instead. 

The paranoia persisted. 

He finally sat up and stared at the back wall of his room. The walls were barren, stripped of character, and his room was something of the same. There isn’t much on display. That’s too much clutter. There’s a jewellery box for his earrings in front of the mirror he refuses to look into. He doesn’t own a lot of things — and what is there to own? Other than a few books he has at his disposal, they tell nothing of his character. 

If he had it his way, the bookshelf would be filled with romance novels. The terrible kind. The ones that were so over the top that he simply had to put them down and stare at nothing for five minutes before turning to the next page. 

And then he’d think of you. 

Idiot. 

He pushed the blankets aside and swung his legs over the bed, careful to readjust his shirt. A light sheen of sweat stuck to his skin like hot glue as he stood up. The floor was freezing, and he promptly made it over to shut his window and lock it tight. He did it quietly, tip-toeing across the floorboards with shaking fingers. 

He ignored the pain in his limbs, tugging on the window until he was sure the lock wouldn’t slip free. He did this hours ago before he tried to sleep. His mind was muddied. 

He closed the curtains swiftly before trudging towards the bathroom. He locked that door, too, and tried to cool his face with water. It seemed to work for only a second before the burning returned. That sweltering heat lingered again and again, and the bruise on his neck was only growing darker. 

The only thing on the bench is his toothbrush and a pair of scissors. There were bits of leftover blue feather tufts on the sharp ends. 

He doesn’t look at his reflection, afraid of the silhouette forming behind him. 

And then there was a creak from outside the door. 

He choked on his breath before he held it silently. The window. He recognised that sound; the dry hard rubbing of the sill against the joints. His teeth gritted hard, and he swore the shells cracked in his mouth. And that is pain. Pain and pain and pain and fear and it swallows him whole and he feels small still. Like he’s little. Like he’s that little boy who cried with a scraped knee for his mother. 

And that hurt. 

His heart ached and his stomach dropped. He held onto the bench, leaning his weight against it, afraid he’d double over and dry heave — when’s the last time he ate anything? 

Breathe. 

It’s nothing. This has happened before. Many times. 

He stood up straighter and pushed off of the bench. He ignored the pain shooting up his legs, and he grew lightheaded as he tried to move towards the door. The blood rushed to his head and his vision dimmed into nothing for a moment. 

His hand rested against the door handle, and his fingers wrapped tight around the cold steel. It bit at his fingers like ice and he fought the urge to retreat and stay locked inside of the bathroom. It was too cold here. He was already shaking just staying in here for three minutes. 

He swallowed hard and tried to control his breathing. 

And then, and only then, did Sunday swing open the door as quick as he could and shut it briskly behind him. He rested his back against the hardwood of the door and held his breath. Hold. Hold. Breathe. 

The window was open. 

He could’ve sworn he closed it. 

He could’ve sworn he–

He could still feel the cold wood of the sill on his fingers. He did. He can’t do this again because he knew he closed it and he remembered closing it and why is it so hard to breathe–

He barreled toward the window sill and shut it again. His stomach twisted and his lips parted to try and suck in more air. He only succeeded in accelerating his heartbeat. 

He stepped away. Closed. It’s closed. It’s closed it’s closed. He closed it. He knew it now. He breathed out again, this time slower, trying to calm himself down. The back of his heels hit the foot of his bed and he sat down on top of the blankets. It’s cold. 

It’s cold but the window was closed. He knew it. He knew it, he knew it. 

He heard a knock from the wardrobe. 

The inside. 

His breathing stuttered and stirred in his chest, and it felt like small animals crawling through his lungs and clogging his throat. Like rats. Creeping rodents clawing into the weak muscle tissue and tearing through his bronchi. Violating. 

It was dark. So dark he couldn’t see the figures in the corners of the bedroom. His feet were cold from the floorboards. The acid in his stomach churned and burned, and feared the worst. He scanned over the room once, twice, before he slowly took a step towards the wardrobe. 

It knocked again, and this time the door jolted on its hinges as if something were trying to break out. 

Another step. 

He hurt. 

Just go back to sleep. 

He opened the closet. 

Two shadowy figures, one hunching over the other, too close for comfort, and ants wedged themselves through every pore and blemish in his skin. It’s him, and you. You’re half undressed, and he looks worse for wear, covered in stains and spit and taking it all in stride. His clothes were a mess; pants ruffled and loose, his hair was wild from being tugged on, and despite your hands roaming dangerously low around his hips, his own hands drew around your face and pulled your lips onto his again and again. 

One blink, and he was there. In the church again, in the back in a storage cupboard, and he was startled. He’s dreaming. He had to be. His clothes were different; his usual attire, though he’s shedded his overcoat and you were busying yourself undoing the buttons of his shirt. 

“I told you not to come back,” he remembered whispering defeatedly. 

Your hands dipped lower down his navel. 

“Getting cold feet, priest?” 

And, yes. His feet were cold, because now the closet was empty, and he was standing in his bedroom again with his hand on the knob. The bruises on his neck ached with the memory. 

He shut the door. 

Then, he turned, almost like less of a person and more of a shell, and stumbled back to bed. The sheets were still warm from the imprint of him, and he held the blankets to his chest defensively as his eyes searched around the bedroom again. 

Nothing to see. All empty and dark and neat. 

His eyes flitted toward the window. 

It’s open again. 

His heart skipped a beat, but he made no move. The draft froze him stiff. He contemplated leaving and searching for Robin’s room; he was sure she’d understand — and she would. She’d make room on her bed instantly for him. 

But he’s not a child anymore. Humiliation stirred in his stomach like acid, and he swallowed the fear rising in his throat. It’s closed, he reminded himself. He has closed it. Twice now. It’s just all tricks of the light, or his own mind, or you. 

There was the familiar rhythmic tapping of heeled shoes from outside his door. They sounded louder than before, but he knew they weren’t really there. He had heard the same footsteps for weeks now, bordering close to months. He had purple rings beneath his eyes to show the constant dreams he’d been forced to endure. 

Ignore it. He laid down again, curling beneath the blankets. Pain withered and whittled his bones like frostbite, and the wind that blew through the gap in the window made him shiver. 

The blankets were still warm, at least. It must have been only just past midnight. He still had hours to hold onto and toss and turn. 

“What have you done?” he asked you one day, the only soul remaining on the podium in the church. “What did you do?” 

You stood quickly. “Nothing, sire,” you answered. “What are you talking about?” 

“You play dumb when the sun is out and crawl on your knees at night.” 

You stood, stiffening like a corpse. “What are you–” You cut yourself off, frantically searching around the room for some sort of answer to your question. 

He stepped forward, finding a somewhat semblance of strength to face you fully. He wanted to scream, or fight, or flee, or do something other than gape like a fish. 

Lying. Bearing false witness. It’s all the same cardinal treachery he knows too well. He saw it now on your face like you were carved permanently in the stone of the statue behind him on the podium. 

“It’s my job, sir,” you responded meekly. “I didn’t willingly–” 

“I don’t care whether this is a job. You don’t understand,” he snapped quickly. “I am not paying you to torment me.” 

“‘Paying me?’” you repeated. “Sire, you have not asked me for my service.” You took a step back, closer to the entrance of the church, but the aisle was long, and you had an even longer way to go until you reached the exit. “I only attend here because I am guilty of where my life has led me.” 

“I did not ask for your service, nor did I ask you to lead me down your path of destruction.” 

“We have not slept together, Reverend.” 

Sunday stirred again. The same thing. His pendant being discarded left him only to clutch the neckline of his shirt and breathe harder. He’d already torn his palm to shreds. The cut through the bandage around his hand still stung, but it was no longer bleeding. 

Maybe he is losing his mind. Maybe he’d be locked away again and forced into confinement until he was finally let out. Maybe he’d be brought to his death; he’d wake up standing on a chair with his hands tied and a rope around his neck. 

And you’d be the one standing by his side with your foot ready to nudge the chair out beneath his feet. 

He swallowed hard, and his hand moved to soothe the ache around his neck. Like rope burn. He’d already been shunned from church today for an inadequate morning service. One of the priests had commented on his behaviour. 

Sunday had thought nothing of it at first. He hadn’t been sleeping properly for weeks, and any sleep he did achieve was plagued with you, your scent, and your legs, and his fingers twisted into the soft and warm flesh of your breasts. And he’d woken up without failure after every single one with his hands clammy, sweat pouring down his neck, and a flaming ache between his legs. 

Liar. It’s just shame and guilt that wracked your rotten guts. He wanted to rip your organs from you and tie your neck with them. And the fear ate at him again, and again, and again until his bones were gnawed to their limits. 

“Y’know, Rev,” he started slowly. “You’ve been… distant.” 

Sunday’s eyes flitted away from you quietly chatting to another attendee on the pew. He said nothing but only gave the priest a strange look. 

“Are you feeling okay?” The priest placed a hand on his shoulder after a moment. “If you need to talk, or… confess…” 

“‘Confess,’” Sunday echoed quietly. “I’ve done nothing wrong.” His eyes searched for you again, and you were still attentively listening to the other person with your hands laced together in your lap. 

Beautiful. 

You glanced up and found his eyes as if you’d impeded through his head and gotten to his mind. 

He sneered. 

Your face twisted with confusion for a moment, maybe even guilt, before you offered a small nod of your head and an awkward smile before you turned back to continue your conversation. 

“I am only looking out for you.” The priest’s eyes followed Sunday’s gaze. He grimaced. “Perhaps you should go home and rest. You look tired.” 

Robin thought the same, that poor girl. She’d sit by him before service and try to coax him with some encouraging words, maybe even singing if he allowed it. She couldn’t get through. She couldn’t understand what was going on. She tried with all her might, and all the care in her small frail little heart to find the strength to make his beat again, but nothing would work. 

Because nothing was going on. 

It’s just him. 

There was another creak from the window. He stiffened up harder to the point where his limbs threatened to snap from their tendons. 

He doesn’t understand what it is. Attraction, fear, interest, connection, loneliness. If this is love, he doesn’t want it. It hurt, like a rope around his neck, like being pelted with stones until his skin and bone caved, like being tied and burned, like being nailed through the hands and feet and left for dead. 

Just him. Just him. 

“Are you lonely?” 

He lost his breath. 

There were arms wrapped around his middle from behind, and there was hot breath running down his neck. And it’s so familiar, and it’s so warm, and he startled a gasp from his throat. 

Sunday tried not to throw his head back as he’d done so many times before. Instead, his hands almost immediately found yours, as they had so many times before. 

His tongue failed him. 

There were lips on his neck. Gentle, warm, and so so familiar he grew breathless within an instant. The bed was soft, and he melted into the mattress, and the warmth. He swallowed hard, and he was so exhausted he must have been dreaming. He mumbled under his breath, and his hands instinctively moved to yours. 

They’re yours, right? 

“‘Lonely?’” he murmured. 

You hummed in acknowledgement. “You look lonely.” 

He’s just tired. 

His hands wrapped securely around yours, holding tight. Let this be okay. He dreamed it for so long. This is what he wants. He wants your warmth, and you, and your devotion. To use whatever faith he has in the church, in THEM, and everything you’ve ever worshipped, and spin all these twisted lies into him. Him and only him. 

Just love him. 

That’s all. 

He couldn’t admit it then. “Your concerns are appreciated,” he mumbled. “I’m just tired.” 

“I can help you sleep,” you promised. Your hands grazed over his hips. 

“I beg your pardon?” His teeth dug into his lips hard enough to draw blood. But he knew what you meant because it is what he meant. It’s just him. He refused to turn around and face you, and thus found content with the disillusion of your warmth draped over his back. It was comfortable, as two lovers should be, but it was all the more wicked when, through your body, he felt the breeze from the window. 

His breathing shook when your lips returned to his neck. 

Vile, this is. He had admitted it so many times before. All of this was vile and disgusting, and wretched and wrong. 

And he loved it. He loved the traitorous words that spilled from your lips, and the trembling of your fingers, unsure — just as his were — as they delved beneath his clothes as they had done so many times before. He remembered every other second he’d spent with you. 

Where he’d met you, where you’d returned again and again before you’d pulled open the confessional door and had taken him in the booth, and where you’d pried and delved deep into his head, up when you sat innocently during service and refused to look at him. 

Where you’d forced his head down between your legs and ordered his tongue, or he’d stood frozen stiff as your hands delved over his thighs, or when you’d touched him in all the places he never used to dare venture. 

Because it is real. 

He found himself unable to ask if it was, much too afraid of the answer. 

“Tire you out,” you explained softly. “Make you dizzy.” 

He already was. He was grateful he was already lying down, for he was sure he’d have fallen to the floor by now. 

He hummed lightly and your teeth set softly below his jaw. He hoped in some twisted part of him that you’d leave scars upon his flesh. 

Then, he mewled when your teeth grazed over the joint where his wing protruded below his ear. Sensitive things, the feathers. The bones were brittle too, and thin enough to snap with one wrong move. 

This wasn’t right. 

It wasn’t right to convince himself he’d be fine if you cracked every bone in his body and left if you’d touched him all over and kept him yours to do as you pleased, or if you did nothing but bite and tear into his skin until he was nothing but shredded flesh and bone. And still yours. That’s what mattered. 

He had been raised to climb above personal desires, much less his own carnal ones. This shouldn’t be what he wants — he should want nothing. It’s selfish of him to think of you like this, and to feel your hands on him every night, and to indulge in your touch. It was sin like hot wax dripping down his stomach, and it tasted like warm sugar. 

He hummed lightly, heart fluttering as you kissed another bruise onto his throat. His thighs ached to part and to grab your hand and move your fingers between his legs. He was already throbbing with need and it made his stomach churn. 

Your lips were warm, and they served well to block off the wind blowing in from the cracked window. 

Your lips grazed down over his shoulder before your hands slowly slid over his throat and reached from behind to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He let it happen. Because he wanted it to. Anxiety jittered in his limbs and his throat, but he helped you in undoing his buttons. He was much too afraid to shed the item off entirely, terrified of judgment and his willing vulnerability. 

Terrified of his own skin, he shut his eyes tight and turned his head to kiss you properly. 

His stomach exploded, he felt. Warm lips and an even hotter tongue that slid past his mouth. He wanted to choke and swallow your spit, and as disgusting as it felt to realise all of these thoughts, it only made him dizzier. 

And he fell in love. 

He felt warmth burst in his chest. His hands trembled before they wandered. They settled hesitantly on your hips, and he was pushed roughly onto his back. His chest pressed against yours, and he felt your heart race against his skin. The familiar pulse put his mind at ease and his head pounded with the scent of your flesh. 

He grew dizzier as the time passed. His lips refused to part from yours, spit stuck like glue. His face grew hot, and his cheeks flushed a gorgeous pink. Sweat pooled down his throat and his hands and he gripped harder at your hips and felt the world spin. Vertigo grabbed at the chains clasped around his wrists and ankles and pulled, and he spun around again and again with you until he pressed you into his mattress, and one of your knees lifted to rub between his legs. 

His breathing stuttered and he gasped out your name, as ridiculous as it was. 

This was pathetic. He knew it so. His stomach twisted with pleasure and panic and the dizziness surged so hard in his head he had to stop for a moment and bury his lips into your shoulder. 

Your hands were busy pushing past the waistband of his pants and venturing low between his legs. Your hands were hot, palms tracing the smooth skin of his hips before your thumbs brushed over the side of his cock. He shuddered, already hard and growing worse with every second. 

He moaned. Moaned. Him. The Head of the Oak Family. That simple touch made his knees buckle, and he almost toppled on top of you. 

Instead, you shoved him over, and you weighed him down onto the mattress. He let out a startled noise when your hand abandoned his cock. Instead, your nails trailed upwards. Up and up and up until your fingers grasped at his neckline and pulled him up from the bed. 

“You seek reverence,” he murmured against your lips. “At a time like this.” 

“Surely you can fight it this time?” you asked. 

He tried to kiss you again, but your grip held strong and your other hand twisted into his face, holding him still. 

He swallowed hard. Anxiety bubbled in his veins like boiling water. “This happens every night.” 

“And you’re still pining?” 

He’s sick. That’s what this is. Sick and in love. 

His father had told him that to love is to give in. Giving in was not a part of him; he wasn’t supposed to cut open his chest and offer you his beating heart on a silver platter. That was the consequence of obsession. 

“This is your fault,” he tried. 

“Is that what you tell yourself while you fuck your own hand every night?” 

The humiliation stirred deep within his chest. He hadn’t even realised his hand had snuck beneath his pants to tease the head of his cock, flushed a furious red and weeping. He wanted you to ruin him and scar him and make him yours and– 

“I’m in love,” he admitted to nobody. His words were muffled as you grabbed his face harder. He looked to the left. The window was closed. “And I’m a heretic.” 

His heart leapt through his throat. 

He understood it now. He knew then a nightingale was watching from the window. He knew it. This would taint him if whatever was left of his purity was not already stained the shade of your skin. 

His wings fluttered. Fear. It crawled back up his spine. 

He fought through your grip and kissed you again, this time with that newfound anger that had been boiling in his blood. His nerves and fury mixed to create some sort of poison that fueled him forward, grabbing your face and ignoring his twitching cock with a frustrated sound. He ended up sprawled on top of you, desperately trying to smother you with his lips, and pressing his hips to yours slowly. So slowly. 

His kisses were frantic, uncertain. He wasn’t sure where to touch, what to do, how to respond when you nipped at his lip or your tongue crawled to press against his teeth teasingly. He found you tasted of nothing, but that was to be expected. Because it’s not–

His hands found the buttons of your shirt. That same shirt you wore when he first laid his eyes on you. All buttons and silk, and that awful embroidered stocking pattern ran up your legs. 

Sunday slotted himself between your thighs, and his bedroom spun in a circle. The mattress dipped as he leaned against you, his hand sprawling across your chest to feel the rhythmic muscle beat frantically. He was sure he was in a worse condition; he felt as though the pathetic heart beneath his ribs would give out any second. 

His cock twitched in his pants. 

But he was a patient, patient man. He’d been drilled with this mindset, this front since he was little. So little he couldn’t think for himself. Now, he could, and he was distracted and losing sleep every night touching himself to the curve of your legs. Gopher Wood would be laughing in his grave, he’s sure. Laughing and jeering and shaming. 

“What do you want, Reverend?” 

He didn’t know. 

He couldn’t answer. 

Instead, he chose to kiss downwards from your throat, following the intricate lines of the bones and trying to remember what the scent of your skin was like. And it hurt to try because it was a reminder. 

He decided to ignore it. Ignore everything entirely and focus on you, and solely you, and nothing else. It helped, if only a little. 

Reverend Sunday worshipped like no other. It was instilled in him for so long that it was second nature, but never in his life had he been at the mercy of something much more important than a God. He’d never believed it to be true, but the way your breath hitched and you squirmed when his thumbs brushed over your nipples riled him further than he would have thought. He sighed, overwhelmed, and his teeth ran over the expanse of your breast, desperately coaxing that same noise from you again and again. 

His heart spiked once, twice, and when he was convinced the muscle was truly about to stop, his lips continued downwards, centring lower to your navel. You squirmed, but his heart fluttered at the feeling. 

“I want this to be–” He stopped himself, lips and nose squashed against the soft skin between your hips. “I’m–” 

His father would be laughing at him. 

Misery plagued his bones, and his halo flickered quickly the lower his lips dragged. Devotion. In and out. Pure, unbridled devotion. Taste and touch and blood and sweat. He breathed out finally, and his teeth came forth to pull at the waistband of your skirt. His canines caught on your stockings, and the fabric was dry on his tongue. He tugged downwards, snagging the wiring between his teeth. 

He wanted to tear through the rose pattern, but he decided otherwise. 

Instead, he pulled them down past your thighs, to your knees, and then your ankles, careful with the thin and delicate material. You kicked what remained off. 

He grinned, but it was shaky and uncertain. It was suddenly cold. Another draft he felt from the window. He couldn’t undo the button of your skirt with his mouth, so his trembling fingers pulled their weight and decided to just shuck it upwards to your hips. Your bones splayed so nicely all for him, and his mind ventured elsewhere for a moment. 

How many others have seen you like this? All pliant and pretty, covered in sweat and his spit and the marks from his teeth. His thumb pressed to the sensitive skin of your stomach.

Maybe it was twisted, the image of you both. A poor pining priest and the object of his desires. A scared little boy looming over the image of an Aeon. The scent of your skin and the touch of your hands. He pulled back for a moment, simply leaning over to admire you.

You reached up towards him and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. You tugged once, twice, before you said, “come, Reverend. Make this one real.” 

“You cannot tempt me like this,” he argued weakly. Still, his hands splayed over your thighs, soothing over them. He couldn’t bear to look down past your hips. 

“Scared?” you asked him. 

And he was. Very, very scared. 

When he glanced down at his hands, he noticed his fingers warped. 

He ignored it. 

He followed his hands then to your hips again, careful with his movements, slow and unsure. He moved between your thighs, watching closely for any twitches. His cock throbbed when he brushed his hips against the mattress. 

He wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t sure about anything, really. But your thighs parted wide to accommodate his shoulders, then his head and his heart almost burst when you swung a leg over his shoulder. It pinned him further into the mattress, and a soft pull at his left wing closer to your hips made his cock twitch. 

Devotion. 

His unsteady hands held on tight to your hips, and one of yours found solace in interlacing your fingers with his. 

Hesitantly, he brought himself forward to taste. 

The mind plays funny tricks on its victims. Sunday knows he’s no stranger to disillusions, illusions, and the like. To the decayed mind, all things seem real. His tongue tasted, his hands felt, and he heard your breathing and your quiet mewls, and yet his eyes couldn’t seem to stay open for more than seconds at a time. 

Funny. 

Sunday lost his breath at the noise you made. It was a stir in his stomach like fine wine, and your hips encouragingly ground back on his lips when he reeled back for a moment. His mind grew foggy, and his eyes fluttered shut again. 

Oh, is he a man in love. 

His tongue moved slowly over your cunt, languidly stroking up and down with wet passes to test the waters. The tip of the muscle inched upwards slightly, curling over the small bump of nerves. That managed a sharp inhale, to which he curiously tried again. Any noise that escaped your lips, he chased it, over and over again like an addict. 

The taste was, again, nothing. 

Because it’s–

He shut his eyes tight. 

Your hand found the back of his head, fingers curling in soft locks before you pulled him forward, closer, until his nose bumped against your clit and his lips were smushed against you. 

His wings fluttered again, and the feathers tickled your thighs. His hands wanted to wander and touch himself, and he could have sobbed out at the relief he sought when his hips ground up against the mattress, but he couldn’t. Selfishness wasn’t a part of him. It never truly had been. He’d have much rathered to feel your legs wind tight around his face before anything else. 

His tongue tried again, the flat of the muscle grazing along your clit until you twitched at the sensitivity and pulled his head back for a moment. 

Sunday’s hand splayed on your hip moved to your cunt, and his thumb pulled back the wet plush skin until your hole stretched wide. He swallowed and his lips pulled taut and he kissed at the entrance once, twice, until you were giggling like an idiot, and a newfound delirium grew haze in his brain. 

Your free hand pushed the hair from his face when he delved in again, tonguing at your clit before he decided to kiss there as well. Devotion. It is worship. It is the sight of you writhing—it’s everything. 

His mouth followed you as your hips twisted and squirmed, teeth lightly sinking in around your clit in warning. He was still in control, for the most part. Maybe not of himself, but for how he kept you on his bed. He sucked lightly, feeling you jolt and squirm, and a smile grew on his lips at the sight. 

He wanted to burn the imprint of his lips on your thighs, and he tried. He abandoned your cunt, now slick with his saliva, to try and mark your legs as his. He hummed to try and release the pressure of his nerves gathering inside of him, but it didn’t do much to help. Your thighs bruised easily. He could bite and tear if he wanted to. 

He pressed his lips to the new bruise before his nose pressed against your clit again and he mouthed at your entrance. He held you firmly, enough to scar with his nails, and tasted again and again and found nothing and everything in all of the wrong places. Perhaps he was too enamoured, for when you grew too sensitive and attempted to push him away, he held stronger and tilted his head to push harder with his tongue. 

Your clit swelled, and he felt it all the way. His hips stuttered against the mattress. His eyes remained screwed tight, even when your fingers petted his head gently. 

He was being good. He knew it, and his heart thrummed at the idea. That was his job, his entire life. To be good, and to understand, and to please. He fell in love with every mumble and moan that left your lips. Every babble of praise, or every time you pushed his hair behind his ears. His cock grew harder somehow, despite his resistance. 

His skin was growing cold again. 

You were growing wetter with every pass of his tongue, and every flit of his lashes against your thighs when he tilted his head downwards to taste. His longing had grown into overdrive. He never should have been tempted like this. He was beyond temptations and desires and wants. He did not want anything. He had no need for things and love and music and art. 

And yet, what’s it to a man of the church who falls in love with something as wretchedly beautiful as you? 

All ruined and sweaty and mangled and all his to enjoy. That’s what you were — all his. 

His mouth was slow, lips wrapping delicately around your clit to suck hard. It made you shiver without fail, and your hips bucked upwards at the feeling over and over again. The entire premise that it was him, and nobody else, that had you as you were now, almost made him cry out at that very moment. 

It hurt to breathe and think and feel, but his fingers pulled at your skin to ground himself and press his tongue into your entrance. You clenched instinctively around him, and he tried again and again, forcing his tongue as deep as it would go. Your legs squeezed around his head and the warmth of your pulse and your blood beneath your skin only aided further in making his head spin. 

He was sure his face was red to match. 

Your legs wrapped tighter around him, enough to keep him still and his tongue on you as he returned his attention to your clit. You mumbled a spiel of praise he barely picked up on, and it went straight to his cock. 

It would stay and remain devotion the more he ruined your cunt with his lips, but he couldn’t think straight. The world spun on its irregular axes, his hips winded quicker into the mattress, and your breathing was slowly growing into something heavier and harder. 

He couldn’t hear your thoughts — he needn’t try. He was sure he’d be able to see pink and white and stars and nothing but the vile image of his head between your legs and your slick coating his face. Some priest. Lowly and unserving. He did not deserve any praise, nor nothing he received. If anything, he was born to remain here, by your side, and grabbed at the throat and the hips until he could think of nothing but your hand twisting around his cock again and again. 

Complete pain and humiliation climbed up his spine when he pressed his cock hard into the mattress. It was instinctive at this point. His mind wasn’t working, and his hips moved of their own accord again and again until he came and still tortured himself with it. The fabric of his pants only made everything seem hotter and tighter, and as his hips twitched with every brush against the mattress, he moaned or whimpered, or made whatever other pathetic noise he didn’t realise he could. 

You said nothing comprehensible, murmuring whispers of pleasure that only served to make him hard again. And so quickly, too, that he throbbed and outwardly cried out at the feeling, though it was muffled.

Curse his stupid tongue that was so smart and silver for tiring when he needed it working more than ever. Never could he exhaust himself of words, but he pushed and pushed now with whatever fleeting strength he had, and the blood rushed to his face when you stirred and pulled on his hair to lessen the distance. Grateful for some sort of grounding, Sunday nosed at your clit while his lips kept busy teasing more slick from your hole. 

In love. 

Funny how it works. It torments and shames and lusts and ruins. 

He lost his mind. 

The want to taste your cum grew stronger, as did the press of his tongue against your clit until you were mewling and squirming at the pressure. A finger brushed up against your thigh before it sank deep into your cunt. You clenched instinctively, and he rubbed at that sweet little spot that made you writhe around him. 

He ached and ached and felt you twitch and tremble and he could have cum again if he wasn’t so distracted by the feeling of your legs squeezing around his head. 

This isn’t how this was supposed to happen. He should be resting and trying to get better. He’s sick. He hasn’t taken his medication in so long. He shouldn’t be trapped in a confessional booth with a whore, or locked away in the wine cellar and brought to his knees, or– 

You came, then, and his heart fluttered and stammered and stopped and started anew. You coated his tongue with slick, and his heart raced so quickly he was worried it would burst from his chest and run. 

He was so enamoured and frazzled with how his mind could do this to him. How he’d been trapped in his own head for so long and curled in his blankets with all the doors in his room shut and the window closed and blinds pulled over. 

A terrible blush painted his face when you weakly reached down to pet his hair again. His halo shimmered. He’s so well behaved. So, so good to you, and good for you, and he can be your everything if you’d let him. 

Your thigh rubbed against his cheek, warm and trembling. 

He reeled back after overstaying, and your clit throbbed when his lips kissed the poor bud one last time. Your hole clenched desperately for more of him, and his heart jolted. 

His hands remained between your legs as you found the strength to grab his shirt and pull him upwards and over you. His heart pressed to yours and he kissed you again, this time intent on making his lips bruise. Eyes wound shut, he ground his hips up against yours. 

You kissed at his jaw. 

“Wretch,” he mumbled. His halo flickered again. His blood burned beneath his skin. He hummed, pleased at the warmth of your flesh. His hands wandered to yours and gripped your fingers tight. Another shove and his legs were entangled with yours in his side. 

“You’re in love,” you whispered. 

And he kissed you, again and again and again until he was breathless. Until his heart warmed and burst, until he was sure he could taste and smell nothing but you, and feel only you. 

His lips were still unsure. His teeth clicked against yours, and perhaps his heart was thrumming so loudly in his chest it deafened him, but he pulled you harder against him. His hips were rough against yours, dragging his cock through his pants against your cunt in languid strokes. It hurt. The friction was too much for him, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. 

And he was moaning and moaning and it was disgusting what terrible sounds ripped from his throat. He mewled and flustered and breathed so heavily that his lungs were about to combust. 

That feeling was slowly returning. That guilt and fury and humiliation burned horribly in his stomach. You did this. All of you. He was not at fault for this. For the way you sat pretty in the church and kept your gaze locked onto the floor. How your hands would hesitantly touch the donation baskets as if you were unsure if it was worth the precious pennies you had left. 

And he would watch silently. As he always did. 

He’d watch silently, and then he’d go home that night and cum on his own hands with his eyes shut tight, trying to imagine they’re your fingers instead. 

His hand rested in its rightful place between your legs, and his fingers returned wet. Soaked, even. And he realised then he’s brought upon much more than a twisted version of romance; this is desolate, and this is Hell. He is home in all of the Nine Circles, blown about in an endless storm with no hope of rest, a heretic victim to the clutches of flames, and he burns and burns and burns and burns but the pain never dulls, nor ends. 

His pants were ruined with his cum and your own, and as vile as it was, he desperately clawed until he found leverage to finally be selfish and free the stupid awful thing and grind his cock up against you. The skin was already wet, and yet grew wetter and warmer with the friction. Slippery and grotesque, and yet he felt you clench every time the tip slipped around your hole, enticing him. 

A fog grew heavy in his mind, and he went blind for a moment. He witnessed pure white and burning. And it was Hell. 

Despite the incessant grinding, his fingers slid and slipped over your clit, desperate to hear your voice again. His free hand searched for the pendant that was usually strung around his neck. He found nothing. 

Still, his eyes were shut. 

He felt as though he was somewhere else. In the church again, where you’d ridiculed him as if this was his fault, and then you’d fucked him over the altar. Or maybe back in the confessional booth where you both had barely fit inside, and you bounced on his lap until he grew dizzy. Or maybe when you’d mouthed at his cock in the bathroom at a dinner to celebrate his sister’s success. Or maybe when you’d thrown him in the backseat of his own car and made him see stars. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

But this was different. This was his bed, his four walls, his private quarters, his everything, and you were his, and this was the intimacy he’d been craving since he was a child. He’d been denied the closeness of another person, anyone, for so long he had forgotten the feeling of skin. Even his own skin, which he’d hidden away each day beneath layers of clothing. 

Because he wasn’t a person, really. He did not think his own thoughts. He did not have the passion and desires others had; he had no interest in the mundane—not anymore, at least—like art and music and literature. He had no end goal that was his and his alone. The money he used to purchase things was not his. Nothing he had in his bedroom was really his. 

But you. 

He held tight onto your thighs and stopped.

His heart melted into mush when he realised you were still lazily grinding upon his cock, and the veins throbbed desperately. 

You. Imperfect and terrible and everything he shouldn’t have loved in another person. And so disastrously awful for him, and all of the subtle changes of this face, and your real one. He can’t truly remember everything—there’s a small glint in your eyes when you’re perplexed, and there are few patches of colour across your features, and perhaps your eyes are a tad too light, but this is what he remembered. 

And as imperfect as it was, and as unsatisfying as it was, and ignoring the fact that it gnawed at his insides, he was okay with this. He was okay, somewhat, with what he felt. 

His palms were embarrassingly wet when he held you open, and guided the tip of his cock towards your hole. He swallowed hard before he softly canted his hips forward and drowned. He held tight, anxiety shooting up his veins and bursting at the seams. 

He felt you tighten instinctively, trying to swallow him whole while he panted like a hellhound and pushed his hips deeper until the bones were pressed to yours. He stuttered, heat encircling his cock like a vice, and then swallowed as hard as he could to mask his voice. 

He should be used to this feeling now. He’s done this before — has he really? Everything felt so familiar, yet so so strange, and so so foreign he held his breath and wished it all to be real. He held on so tightly he grew breathless. 

His forehead pressed to yours.

You hummed. 

He felt his lips twitch. “This is wrong.” 

“But you keep doing it.” 

He had no excuse then, and he still had no excuse now. 

He’s just like his father. 

He gritted his teeth. “I’m in love.” 

You laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. “There it is.” His hips twitched forward and he buried himself deep inside of you. “You’re doing so well.” 

Oh. The wings below his ears fluttered. His face burned hot like the sun, and a hand dropped low to grasp yours tight. You squeezed his fingers in affirmation, maybe even encouragement to move. He was stuck, frozen, twitching, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

He simply nodded along like an idiot.  

Warm. So disgusting and warm and his breath grew staggered and uneven with every twitch of his hips. His stomach felt odd, but maybe that was the sickness that warped in his guts. Something so extremely nauseating that he felt alive. He swallowed hard and his fingers moved to your arms to steady himself. He buried his face in your neck. Pear and jasmine and vanilla. He recognised that scent every time he was given that sacramental wine. It was almost the same, yet so so different. 

He laughed, then, right into your shoulder. It was much more of a huff of hot air against your skin. Because this was insanity. His knees sank further into the mattress, and his pillows were tossed askew. Hurt and pain and heat. It was all the same, for he knew no better. 

It was so good. Cardinal sin and blood and skin. Good. Great, even. Greater than anything he'd ever tried before. You tasted amazing, better than the flesh of an Aeon. So soft and warm and all his. 

Something to call his. 

His stomach turned. 

He couldn’t get enough. His hips bucked slow, so excruciatingly slow, as if to savour. He wasn’t sure when he’d ever feel like this again, if he ever would. If his body would ever want him to do this again. 

His arms shook with his own weight, and he tried not to double over. Good. So, so good. His hips twitched impossibly closer to you and he breathed upon your lips. He melted when you kissed him, as chaste as it was. He hadn’t felt this way ever in his measly, putrid existence. 

All for you. 

He pulled away slowly, attempting to forget the feeling of you, only to stuff himself back inside, rocking his hips hard until his own met your bone. 

His heart warmed. How twisted. Your tongue prodded out to poke at the corner of his lip and he buried his nose into your shoulder afterwards, trying to muffle the disgusting noises that snuck from his mouth. He wanted to cry; that familiar prickling behind his eyes teased him. 

His stomach jolted when he rocked his hips softly. He was sure a tear slipped down his cheek, and it dropped silently on the marred sheets of his bed. He’d have to clean it later. 

Slowly taking what he needed. He continued, slowly, slowly, slowly, because he was a thief,

and he did not deserve to force his pleasure upon you. Not like this. Not with you pressed down onto his bed and waiting. 

He understood the addiction of scent, and blood, and skin, and why he would hear the same telltale stories through the mesh of the confessional booth. He used to scrunch his nose up at the topic—how could someone be so insistent that carnal cravings were a cure to anger, and hate, and treachery, and violence, and everything? 

Your lip pressed to his ear gently. 

It can’t be a cure. It’s not. He certainly didn’t feel fixed, or any better. For the moment, maybe, he felt as though he was in Heaven, but it was much more warped than that. Heaven was not a feeling; Heaven is not a place, or a person, or cardinal sin. 

Truly, he’s not sure what it is. It can’t be you. You’re different, maybe even the opposite. You didn’t make him feel beyond the clouds. You made him feel… terrible. 

Infatuated, but terrible. 

You were whispering something in his ear, and he laughed softly, but he wasn’t quite sure what he heard. If anything, he’s relieved for the attention. You could have blatantly insulted him, and his skin would’ve melted like hot wax. 

“You’re overthinking again,” you reminded him. Your voice was strangely steady. 

His hand tightened around his sleeves. “You come for…” 

“Salvation, I suppose.” That was you. You came here. To see him. Or hear him. And seek his guidance and better judgement. He wasn’t sure if he could offer you much of himself, seeing that his brain had short circuited the moment he’d heard your voice through the booth. 

He had imagined this all before. If anything, he remained silent to see if he could listen to anything vulgar. 

Seconds passed and Sunday swallowed hard. 

“Reverend?” 

“Of course,” he forced out. You’re not going to do anything—it’s all in his head. You’re not going to plead for him to open the booth and let you have his way with him. You don’t even know him, and he doesn’t even know you. 

It’s all in his head. 

“Just try to enjoy it,” you told him. 

His hips thrusted harder and he could hear the awful noises that escaped from your throat, and he wanted to tear the vocal cords free so you would never sing again, and also kiss you until you were breathless and bruised. Just try to enjoy it. Just stay in your head. It’s better that way. 

He could feel himself snapping at the seams. 

You were probably in your own home, wherever you lived, sleeping soundly. Maybe you were doing the same as him, or maybe you were fucking another man and enjoying him rather than—

He had a headache. A blazing pounding behind his eyes. 

Yet, he persisted. He held you tight against his chest, hoisting you upwards from his bed so your heart could press against his. He fell in love with how he felt around you, even if it made him ill and horrible. Even if it disfigured his mind; even if you killed him. 

He kissed you again, this time harder. He tried to ground himself firmer to remain on this terrible planet with you, but his mind continued to wander. Overworking, overthinking. 

Sunday couldn’t find himself to care about it anymore. He strangely welcomed the feeling of you attempting to suck on his tongue. He held onto your throat now, only gently, and his finger pressed to your jaw to keep you still. 

He panted once, twice, and then his breath hitched when he managed to move into you with an increased pace. He tried to keep his rocking even, but he was quickly losing his strength again. 

How vile. One of your legs was slotted nicely around his own, calf rubbing against his hip as he slammed his own against you. Hard enough to burn and bleed, and his cock twitched and twitched and twitched and twitched. 

“What…” He leaned against the side of the booth. “What troubles you?” 

He heard you laugh, though it wasn’t at all mirthful. Still, it may have been the most beautiful sound he’d ever been blessed to hear. “Everything.” You paused to take a breath. “My job… my life… my everything.” 

He said nothing. He didn’t have to. He knew exactly how you felt. 

“I don’t think I was made to live in a world like this.” 

You’re the same. Maybe that’s why he had developed this estranged one-sided affection; this sickening obsession that’s torn through every working cell in his brain. That’s left him a horrible, shaken mess of a person. 

The sounds are abhorrent. The way you wriggled in his grasp to force him deeper inside of you, and the sighs and whispers that left your lips are somehow worse. 

Sunday lost his strength in one of his wrists, and he almost toppled over you. That only stirred him harder, and his hips winded and jolted when you squeezed tight around him. He could certainly get used to this. One day. With you. 

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked. 

He was enjoying you, but he refused to voice it. He understood. He understood the need to escape, to run to somebody else’s bedroom, to fix everything this way. 

He kissed you impossibly harder, his lips purpling at the pressure, and that mere feeling brought him so close to the edge he stammered on his own breath. His thrusts grew sloppier by the second, and he cared less about how you felt, and more of that edge he was chasing and trying to grab by the reins. 

So good. He could feel his cock bubbling at the tip, squishing up against your walls and the skin stretched and ached and warmth burst through his stomach. He wanted to fill you up again, and eventually, one day. He’d imagined this so many times before; the way you’d sound, or beg, or do whatever you really did. Whatever you did, he’d embrace it, and he’d thank you for a thousand years. 

He’d cum again and again and he’d let you use him as your own personal toy to play with if it satisfied you. Even if you tossed him aside when you grew bored—he was used to that. 

He’d feel this terrible feeling forever if you would just love him. 

He hoped. 

His stomach burned, and his cock was throbbing. 

His bones grew tired, but he persisted, in and out and in and out until nothing left his lips but babbles of worship as he swung his arms around your neck and traced his lips along your ear. You’re so good to him. So good. 

You would sit there all pliant and pretty and he’d take and take and take until the only thing left of you was the part that only cared for him, and nothing else. And then you’d watch as he was dragged down below the ground, while you would rise above the clouds. Because that’s what he deserved, and you and him did not share the same fate. 

The clutches of a Sinner’s hands rest on his face, and they’re yours, just for a moment. 

His hips stuttered. 

“C’mon,” you whispered. His nose was cold against yours. 

“I–” 

“–Close?” you finished. 

He frantically nodded his head like an idiot. 

His lips twitched in some sort of pathetic smile. 

You reciprocated. “I know.” 

He couldn’t handle the teasing. If anything, it only made the headache worse. He wanted to cum. That was the only thing that mattered at this point. He wanted to ruin you, as you did to him. 

He couldn’t afford to choke in the air as his cock twitched. He was right there, and his hip bones were aching as they smacked against your skin. 

“I’ll be all yours, Priest,” you told him. “One day.” 

Sunday’s eyes shot open in horror as he came, and he clutched desperately onto some semblance of skin—whatever his brain could attempt to conjure in a last-ditch effort to make this nightmare real. 

His hand was twisted tight around his cock, covered in spit and sweat and his own filth, and he wretched the treacherous limb away as if it had developed a mind of his own.

He was trembling, layered in cold sweat as he shivered, his stomach convulsing as his cock slid against the mattress, an angry red flush enveloping the tip. 

He couldn’t develop a coherent thought, nor movement, for when he felt around blindly for you, you were nowhere, and he was alive and awake again. 

He choked on his own saliva as he tried to sit up. His pillows were soaked with drool, and his clothes were askew. He rested his back against his head and tried to breathe. 

He glanced at the window. Closed. 

Because he had closed it. He’d locked the bedroom door, too, and the bathroom. How would he have forgotten? That had been his routine for almost sixteen years. He wouldn’t have forgotten. Not ever. If anything, he’d have grown well aware of the old habit being missed that he’d scratch at his skin until he’d forced himself to get up and fix the window. 

He heaved at what he had done. 

He swallowed hard as if there were rocks stuck in his throat. His lungs refused to take in air. He kicked off the tangled blankets and they fell in a pathetic heap onto the floor. Dizziness surged in his mind, and the back of his eyes pounded and pounded the longer he sat there staring blankly at the wall.

His heart swelled horribly. 

Oh. 

His eyes slowly dragged over to the bedroom door.

Closed. No light bleeding beneath the door. No footsteps in the hall. Not Robin’s, certainly not yours. He faintly heard the echo of your heels, but that was drowned out by the aching in his head. 

“Your services…” the priest started quietly. The booth creaked. “What do they entail?” 

You didn’t answer for the moment. Perhaps you were nervous, or apprehensive, or a strange string of both. Maybe, even, your hands were busying themselves around the waistband of your pants, slowly unbuckling the belt and then–

“Men, sire,” you responded quickly, honestly. You tapped the mesh wiring of the confessional window in a strange rhythm. “I’ve never been proud. It’s dirty work.” 

Sunday blinked awake. His hands were pulled tight at his sleeves. 

“But you don’t have a choice?” 

You made a noise. “Did you have a choice to be in the position you are now?” 

“My position is very different from yours,” Sunday reminded lightly. 

“Is it? We both serve to please the worst of people.” 

And, in some sort of twisted way, you were right. 

Just as if he was made to please you. That is his sole purpose; to be yours. It is why he felt this way. It’s why he was put in this terrible position; to meet you, and be yours, and nobody else’s, and escape off this treacherous planet and kiss you until he couldn’t bear to breathe the air that wasn’t yours. 

That’s love, right? 

Devotion. 

He found it in himself to peel away from his bed and trudge to the bathroom. 

He couldn’t bear to see his reflection.

He was afraid he’d see you standing behind him. 

*ೃ༄

The next evening was like every other. He leaned against the confessional booth, eyelids slowly drooping shut as he listened and listened until his feathers shrivelled and his ears picked up on nothing but static. 

Please the public. 

He nodded along mindlessly to whoever was speaking to him through the wiring. He was grateful the booth was dark, and cold, for he was forming a sweat. His mind was running in circles, and though he responded to the lone soul through the window, he felt as though what he said was automated, and not at all a production from his heart. 

That being said, he was thanked anyway, and they left.

That must have been the final one, for when he called for the next churchgoer, he was met with silence. There were no hushed shuffles of feet against the floor, nor the rustle of clothing, or breathing. 

Nothing. 

Alone again. 

Sunday unlocked the door to the booth and stepped out, grateful he could stretch his limbs properly. He’d been cramped inside for what felt like days, but was only a few hours. Still, he felt his bones pop and crack as he exited. 

He took the keys from his pocket and locked the small door. 

Another day. 

He could endure. It was what he was made for. He knew no better. 

To breathe and feel for others. 

That was all.

Now what? 

Now, he’d go home. He’d go home, do the same mundane routine in order as he had always done for every day of his life—get changed, maybe have dinner, fill out forms until he was almost asleep at his desk, and then he’d try and sleep. And the same as always, he’d toss and turn and whine that it was too hot and then it was too cold, and all the while you’d mouth at his neck and strip him of his clothes. 

He inwardly shuddered at the thought. 

He grew sick with worry as he stared helplessly at the confessional. 

“Room for one more?” 

His heart leapt out of his throat, and he froze. His fingers tightened around the window of the booth and the material of his gloves stretched and squeaked. 

He swallowed, unable to turn around. He pulled out the keys again. “Of course.” His hands were shaking. 

He heard you let out a troubled hum. “You don’t have to–” 

Sunday stopped you short, perhaps too quickly. “Nonsense. This is my job.” 

“–We can talk face to face,” you finished. “If… if that’s easier.” 

Right. He certainly could. It wasn’t so much easier for him, but if it pleased you. If that’s what you wanted. 

Truly, you didn’t care too much about his final decision. But he was pretty in the face, and it was nice to speak to him properly for a change. 

Sunday stepped away from the booth finally and turned to look at you. 

He lost his breath almost instantly. 

You grinned. “Hi.” 

His lips managed to twitch into a smile. “Hi.” 

Your feet shuffled against the tiled floor. He recognised the sound of your heels clicking quietly. The same noise he heard in his hallway, and he still heard it every night. 

He held the keys tight in his clenched fist. The jagged ends punctured a hole through the palm of his glove. The scar that remained from his incessant habit would be opened soon. 

Your eyes were slightly lighter than he’d imagined, and you wore your clothes neater, and you didn’t run your tongue rampant with terrible sullied words. That wasn’t you. That was his idea of you. 

And now, reality sets itself upon him, and he still cannot grasp what is untrue. 

“You haven’t visited the confessional in a while,” he started softly. 

You shook your head. “No.” You glanced back towards the door, perhaps wondering whether it was locked, or maybe even contemplating running for it. “But I do sometimes attend service.” 

He knows this because he’s searched and waited for you every morning. 

Sunday was simply staring at you. “And what has prompted your change of heart?” 

A laugh bubbled from your throat, and the sun bled through the stained-glass windows of the church, and flashes of green and yellow and pink and blue dotted along your face. 

“You do generous and kind work, Reverend,” you whispered to him. “I hope it makes you happy.” 

The offer of praise made him sit up slightly in the seat in the booth. Nothing made him quite as happy as your voice, and he’d hear you sing again and again until he grew deaf. Even then, he was sure he could remember the way your lips formed every syllable that spilled from your throat. 

If anything, he remembered your sound, because your words were what mattered.  

If anything, he hopes he can make you happy. 

“I fell in love with a man.” 

And he’d never let go of that hope for as long as he lived. 

[obriengf]

My Beloved || Thomas x Reader

Summary: Thomas is filled with emotion as you both seek out a way to show just how much love you truly hold for one another. Words: 7.5k Warnings: SMUT18+!!!, loss of virginity, masturbation, p in v, this is honestly very fluffy and sweet okay  Notes: okay so... this started off good then towards the end i got desperate to finish it and it turns rushed i think?????? a little bad??????? anyway, these guys would have NO idea about sex ed tbh just what they’ve learnt from each other... because i feel like WCKD had better things to do, like brainwashing everyone, instead of teaching kids about the birds and the bees. long story short just go with it and no judging on my smut please i dont write it often!!!

There’s a boy, and he’s so beautiful it hurts. 

Among the fiery glow of the bonfire flames, his eyes luminate with golden specks - so bright, so mesmerising, that you cannot stop staring from beyond the heated curtain. You catch his gaze and the way his smile quirks upward, bashfulness flushing his cheeks and provoking his teeth to sink sinfully into the plusness of his lip. It brings a warmth to your chest - a sensation of adoration, burning hotter than the flames separating you both. It travels to your fingers with an itch that wants you to jump to the boy, embrace him, kiss him, love him. He had been everyone’s saviour, but to you, he saved more than just your life; he brought colour back to your dull days, allowing you to see the vibrancy that radiated with pure intentions from your daily sunlight. He returned hope to your anxious mind and settled the prior need to look over your shoulder for danger every spare second. He made you feel so incredibly loved to the point where you stopped breathing and your heart would swell with anticipating warmth. There’s a boy, and he’s so perfect it hurts, in the most breathtaking way. 

Thomas could feel you staring. He revelled in the way that your eyes sparkled, and how you looked at him as if he put the stars in the sky. He was still getting used to others viewing him as their paladin, but you were different - it was much simpler, housing purity and sincere devotion, seeing the boy as your ending. You fell in love in the wrong place at the wrong time, surrounded by chaos and imminent peril, but the clawing need to stay by the other’s side brought you both to your much-deserved salvation; and better yet, into the forever hold of each other’s arms.

The boy couldn’t understand his emotions as they intensified, but he knew that it was longing. He knew that they yearned for you. He didn’t have the time or space to stop and consider how his body was growing and reacting to being around your own, the desperation to run and hide and fight had eventually become all that he could think about - until it was all over, and you were all safe. Now, those feelings returned and his thoughts drifted to how your kiss has started to ignite something in his gut, and how it spread through his veins to the point where he wanted to dig his fingers into your flesh and never let go. 

It was a topic of conversation that he had previously brought up through loose lips and in between inebriated breaths; Minho on the receiving end with a bit more sobriety, but he was still dazed as he listened with widened eyes and unsplit attention. It was near comic how Thomas had him on the edge of his seat - he couldn’t put into words just how he was feeling, but his friend could see the depth behind the amazed look that glassed over whisky hues and how a curt smile perked at his lips. Minho very much understood that desiring need, the way complete and utter endearment could make a person feel like they were floating effortlessly on cloud nine. Thomas was the first person he went to when he was ready to take that step further with the sweet girl from the kitchens - and now it had turned full circle, and Minho had never been happier that love had struck his closest friends. 

The flames began to die, juxtaposed to the rising moon that now bathed the Safe Haven in beautiful luminescence. Thomas could see you much clearer now, and it made your stomach flutter at how fervently he appeared. You found yourself growing more heated the further you allowed yourself to fall for the brunette boy; your eyes lingering that little bit longer, the need to nestle into the side of his body growing stronger, and your heart rapidly reverberating in your chest just that much harder. It was as if every nerve was ablaze with want, and it was such an unfamiliar sensation that you were starting to feel nauseous. And you didn’t want it to end.

It wasn’t long before Thomas stood, dusting at his covered thighs to rid the ash that sprinkled from the rising smoke. He moved slowly, almost with hesitance, but it was the bashful and budding thump from his heart that drew him toward you. Through the curtain of your lashes, you peered up at him as he stopped only a mere foot or so in front of you, his hand extended, and a chest filled with held breath that he hoped you wouldn’t notice. He was bathed in a fiery afterglow, his figure enveloped by golden flickers. You sighed dreamily. 

“Want me to walk you back to your hut?” His voice was quiet, a gentle hum as it held the possibility of diffidence. He always held a sort of shyness when it came to you, especially when it allowed him to hold your hand and selfishly receive all of your undivided attention. 

A rosy hue climbed your neck, speckling your cheeks with a blush that exceeded even the dancing flames of heat before you. It felt so incredibly right as your palm confidently slid over his own, granting Thomas permission to lightly grasp at your wrist and provide some strength in pulling you up. He always escorted you, these days. Part of him dreaded that if he didn’t, then something would happen to you. Whilst other parts craved the company you gave and the adoration you unforgivingly showered him in. Maybe, it was just his way of showing the supplemental gladers that surround you both that you would always leave with him, because you’re simply his. 

Regardless - your hands were quick to wrap around his arm, tugging the boy close to you as you clasped your fingers with his. Bidding farewell to your friends and fellow survivors hardly took any time before Thomas was guiding you away, the path he followed so well-known by now that he swore he could travel it in his sleep. The lanterns that usually adorned your way had already died down, softened by the late night, yet complemented beautifully with the rising blanket of radiant moonlight. It would be hard for you to form words around just how contented you felt in this moment; calmed by the gentle breeze wafting from the ocean shores of the Safe Haven, and lulled when it rustled nearby palm trees in harmony with the now distant joyousness abandoned back at the bonfire. 

Thomas’ thumb absentmindedly rubbed at your hand as your head dropped to his shoulder, the faint smell of burnt wood tickling your nostrils after becoming woven into the cotton of his shirt. You managed a small hum, surprising yourself when you inner thoughts left your lips with quiet notes, “Do you think it’ll stay like this forever?” 

“What will stay?” He replied, his eyes briefly glancing down to you, lips curling into a slight smirk at how in thought you seemed to be.

You paused, lips pursing as you racked your brain for the right words. Everything, is what you truly wanted to say, but even then you wished that some things were different. You wished for Newt to be there with you all, and Chuck, and Winston. You had also often thought about Teresa and just how much she would have contributed to this new society. You really didn’t want everything to say the same, but some things were just simply perfect in your eyes.

“The tranquility.” You ended up with, squeezing Thomas’ forearm with your spare grasp, “The calm after the storm. Being able to take a deep breath because you know you aren’t always looking over your shoulder. Nights like this… so beautiful, merciful. Seeing our friends smile in what felt like forever. Us.” 

“Us?” He questioned, peering to you again before focusing on the upcoming silhouette of your hut. Thomas laughed lightly, “We aren’t changing, not anymore. I have you and I’m keeping you forever. No take-backs, sorry sweetheart.” 

A tender giggle echoed lightly in the air as it fell from your lips, prompting you to nestle even closer into Thomas’ side. He always made you feel protected, and you know from the bottom of your heart that he will also continue to until his dying breath.

You pressed your lips just under his ear, breath igniting his skin, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

It was a force that managed to shake the walls; such harshness in comparison to the soft velvety feeling of his lips sliding against yours. Thomas’ brows furrowed slightly after forcefully kicking the door to your hut closed behind him, but it was the sweetness of your amused laughter that drew him so effortlessly back to you.

“A little eager?” The warmth of your breath fanned over his still rosy cheeks, reminding Thomas that you were so close. You watched as his lashes fluttered against his cheekbones - delicate, yet sharp - framing the doe-like brown eyes that you’ve grown to love, and beyond, and it made the boy appear so incredibly pure. He was a snowflake shining against the sun, a flower’s petals fresh as they begin to bloom, the dancing flames of a picturesque fire that you were only just admiring him through. 

Thomas managed a smile through a breathless exhale, as if you were there taking his breath away with your bare hands, grabbing and keeping it as your own lifeline. He lent in, this time with closed eyes, the tip of his nose nudging against yours, and it was your turn to hitch at his whispered words, “You have no idea.” 

His hands were rough. Callouses adorned them from the past year or so, memories and scars that captured how he survived and that those hands were the reason you were safe. They often trembled when he slept due to the nightmares that haunted him - the monsters that made him bleed, and the people that he watched perish before his tear-glazed eyes. Those hands carried the lives of legions of people at one point, and sometimes Thomas thinks that they are under pressure to still do so. Those hands were strong and could hold so much from so many people.

Yet, as one grasped your hip and the other cupped your cheek, they had never felt more tender. Oh - and how you desired the benign fingertips to soothe over your skin and touch you in places that have gone undiscovered by most. And if Thomas wanted to tread in those uncharted waters, there was no way that you would decline, not when you dreamt of his touch for so long.

You breathed him in once more, intoxicated by the most mundane of scents that built up who this boy came to be. The smoke was strong as it continued to linger, but the salt water that had dried on his skin and the subtle waft of dirt from his earlier exploration this morning was a concoction that on the best of days, drove you crazy, but right now you wanted nothing but to bathe yourself in it. With a small swallow of the lump in your throat, fingers grasped at the unbuttoned opening of Thomas’ henley, and you pulled him even closer than before until chests were flush and hearts beat in thumping unison. 

His lips found yours again with ease, wrapping around your own and taking you as if he were a starved man. It drew a small moan to elicit from your throat and he knew that he would do anything to hear that sound again, over and over, a broken record that could both lull him to a lustful sleep and keep him awake at all hours with a curled fist and an overworked forearm. It wasn’t until his tongue slipped; dragging with deliciousness over your bottom lip, and taking refuge against your own as he licked so casually into your mouth. That’s the moment you blacked out and allowed your stance to lose all sense of muscle, becoming jelly-legged and at the mercy of Thomas’ arms wrapping further around your submissive frame.

Thomas slowly walked you both backward until your knees collided with the frame of your makeshift bed. You released a small gasp, enough to wake you from your short absence from reality, as the boy took it as his cue to lift you carefully until you were laying down against the thin sheet that you deemed as a blanket. This was the first time that he was ever situated above you - usually pulling you into his arms as you stood with friends, or tugging you down onto his lap so that he could cuddle against your back. Kisses would be shared, but they were never this hot, nor this needy, and Thomas’ breaths stopped momentarily as he took in how stupidly beautiful you looked underneath his heaving body. 

He wasn’t sure what changed between you both so quickly with this new angle, but he had a sudden overwhelming sensation to kiss you with every ounce of passion he could muster, and meld himself with you until a single unit was left in your wake. He was throbbing in his head at the salacious thoughts that drowned his mind with images of you in positions seemingly compromisable. Throbbing in his heart at how emotion could so easily play such an intense role in how he never wanted to be a part from you for as long as he lived. And throbbing a little lower at how it all seemed to come together as one want, an impulse, a craving for your touch and taste and sounds that could drive a man mad in the absolute best way possible. Thomas was already halfway there. 

You could feel it too in the way he was gazing over your frame - the heat that loved to submerged your body was now between your legs, and you had the itch to squirm from the slight discomfort it gave you. It was formidable once before, during a night where sleep was off the schedule, and you couldn’t stop thinking about how much you yearned for being between Thomas’ arms and held to his chest. The heat was like a heartbeat as it pulsated, and under the curtain of nightfall, you had eased the pain with your fingers and a hasty soothing rub. You remember seeing Thomas flash behind your fluttering eyelids before they settled closed, and it made you press harder, chasing after a feeling that was odd at first… but so quickly became pleasureful until you squealed his name and your chest sank from a high that pulled you up from your bed. It was euphoric, and you were quick to understand what some of the others meant when they talked about making themselves feel so good. All you wanted now was that feeling again, and Thomas to be the one to grant you such elation.

With vulnerable movements, you reached up to cup the boy’s cheek, your thumb dragging from his nose to the softened skin under his eye, teasing his lower lash line. You bit your lip at how stunning he truly was and how the subtleness of moonlight played shadows across his face. He nuzzled into your hold and placed a small kiss to the skin, the tip of his nose dragging with fragility over your palm until his lips pursed once more. You needed him closer until all you could feel was him, all you could taste and hear, too. You were aching to settle the feeling that had now reached your lower abdomen as it screamed to be soothed, to be taken care of. 

“Kiss me.” You slipped, a softened whisper that Thomas almost missed until you said it again, “Kiss me, Tommy. I need you.”

You didn’t know what the words truly entailed except for how right it felt to say them - Thomas, clearly on a wavelength that matched yours with perfection, as he dropped to your lips with a smile and groan that you happily swallowed whole. Arms and legs clung to him for dear life as he slotted between your thighs, lips smacking and tongues dragging and suddenly that alluring cool night air became thick and humid. He covered your frame and slowly sank his body weight onto yours - a puzzle piece that was cut perfectly for you, embedded so sublimely against your curves and dips. 

Hips clashed with harmonising force, a kind of friction that was heavily sought as it was chased. It drew a throaty groan to echo past Thomas’ lips, his brows furrowed as he tried to overcome the near pained feeling of pressure against his crotch as you absentmindedly pushed up against him. It was bittersweet torture - the kind where he knew how to relieve it, but was riddled with nervousness about sharing it with you. He sat a curled fist beside your head as his other held your hip, hoping that you wouldn’t notice how frisky your touch and taste were making the boy. Thomas was holding back every instinct to lose control over a sensation that had only ever met his right hand.

You were lost hopelessly in his lips. They held slight chappedness from the salty air, but an ever-forgiving softness that so easily held you captive and vulnerable. Whenever he kissed you, it was as if you were nothing but his - simply a figure that had fallen victim to his tender touch and enrapturing words, you wouldn’t dare move in case it burst the bubble that separated you from the outside world. It was simply an addiction and you craved it always, a constant need for Thomas, a constant need to share your love. 

Absentmindedly, your ankles pulled his lower back further into you, and it was the meeting of his hardness against your heated core that ripped a sudden moan from you both as synchronised calls filled the space of your hut. You clung even further to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck among the thin sheen of sweat. It was the type of stimulation that you needed again, or else you’d stop breathing. Tentatively, your hips rose again before you gently rubbed over the pulsating hardness through the thick denim of his jeans, and you swore that stars exploded behind your eyes as you whined against his neck.

Thomas breathed out heavily, his throat thick, “Shit - shit, that feels good.” 

You nodded weakly, desperation clawing at you as you pressed kisses down the column of his throat, remembering the patches of skin that made him shudder with fragility. Thomas was melting against your frame - a puddle of a boy between your limbs as he began to rock over you, slow drags until a comfortable pace was met and he could feel your fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

His senses were enamoured by you - completely and utterly taken, infatuated to no end. You were all that he could feel and it made the air thicker than he thought possible as he swallowed your panting breaths. The need came rather quickly as Thomas grasped at the back collar of his shirt, his ears perking at the small whine you let escape as he sat back on his knees to remove the obstructive piece of cotton. Your lips were still pursed and they chased him with weak effort from your sobered drunken haze, much to the boy’s admiring amusement.

With a chuckle, Thomas lent down to you, his lips ghosting over the rosy hue of your cheek before pressing gently against it. He allowed the tip of his nose to nuzzle against the soft skin before he spoke in a whispered tone, “Who’s the eager one now, hm?” A shudder travelled down your spine as warm breath danced below your ear; a sensation that was enough to rip another moan from your thumping chest, a sound so melodious that Thomas found it a hasty necessity to imprint it permanently in his mind. 

You replied breathlessly, “I can’t help that you’re hot, Tommy.” 

He gripped your waist after his fingers slid over the exposed skin from your hiked-up shirt with desperation to run his touch over every inch of your body. He didn’t want to push you to follow suit with the removal of your own shirt, but it didn’t stop the clench of his jaw and sudden strong grip as he held himself back from pursuing the hunger that was slowly developing within him.

You knew him, more than yourself, and how his demeanour would change, and how every emotion or action was a chapter in his book that you’ve read too many times to count. It promoted your hand to lift and squeeze at his bicep, Thomas’ eyes drifting to your widened gaze and the glint that sparkled among your coloured hues, “Take it off, it’s okay. I trust you.” 

He nodded, his chest fluttering at the faith you so easily had in him. You always did - have faith in Thomas - after all, he saved your life and in turn, you saved him by providing the limitless unconditional love that he deserved. His encouragement allowed you to find yourself after being lost within such a cruel world, and he never stopped believing in you. He never would. Thomas’ fingers flexed below your ribs, the toughed skin of his fingertips dragging with savour as he pushed your shirt further up your body. As it bunched under your chest, you managed to sit up slightly, quickly tugging the shirt until it let your skin breathe free, and it was tossed somewhere presently unknown across the room. The boy’s breath suddenly hitched as eyes raked shamelessly over your now vulnerable frame. His mouth felt dry, yet he was in complete awe. 

“You’ve seen me like this before.” You noted though the silence, your voice barely loud enough to break the intimate atmosphere. Your chest flushed slightly, only growing more vibrant as it reached your cheeks. You grew bashful under his doting stare, and he couldn’t help but bite his lip adoringly.

“Yeah, but…” Thomas thought back to the times where you all would swim at the beach, enough clothes to cover you, but to which still left little to the imagination. He shook his head once more, still in complete wonderment at you laying beneath him, “This is different. What I-I feel… it’s so much more than I can handle, you’re just so beautiful.” 

Your hand cupped his cheek and history repeated itself with such endearment; thumb rubbing under his eye to which he turned and kissed against your palm. It was quickly becoming your thing, your couple thing, something so small but so symbolic that ran the same path as screaming from the treetops that you’re in love. It was your silent communication of forever, and always, and until the end of our dying breaths to a world if there is one beyond ours. It was a promise and a reminder - that you both were there, and you weren’t ever going to leave. You were telling him through a simple touch of your hand that you were real, and his kiss was a reply of sincere gratitude.

Thomas lent down to peck the tip of your nose, smiling widely as your face scrunched with joy. His lips were quick to attach themselves to your neck next, wanting you to feel the ecstasy that you supplied him. They trailed with a wet path - his tongue darting out against pressure points and sucking at the spots that drew groans of satisfaction from you. Your head lulled back against his bed when teeth tickled your collarbone, and it didn’t take long for you to surrender yourself completely to him. Thomas’s tongue dragged heavily down your sternum before tracing along the cups that prevented you from bareness, eyes peering through thick lashes to silently ask for permission to go further. You couldn’t dare say no… not when every ounce of sunlight and warmth sang to you through such a simple look. 

You snuck a hand behind your back to unclasp the bra, suddenly releasing an unknown-held breath when the cool night air mixed with the heated moans that Thomas fanned against your chest. He swiftly reattached his lips as he relished in the new canvas for his kisses, his moistened trail continuing. You squeaked as he passed over your sensitive nipple, promoting your hand to grasp the back of his head and hold him closer to you. Thomas continued by sucking lightly before his tongue swirled in time with his hand squeezing your opposite side. He kneaded and squished the flesh tenderly, feeling his trousers tighten at the mewling sounds you made. 

He swapped sides and continued whatever sweet assault he could muster to prolong your symphony of sounds. It was building inside you - the desire for more. You felt like you were ignited, but wanting to be more than a spark… you needed to be an explosion, and you needed Thomas to be the one to set you off. You wiggled as you huffed out his name, your fingers fiddling with the button of your shorts when the boy pulled aware with a raised brow. 

“More… I need more. Please.” You begged, lifting your hips as Thomas helped pull the material away. He stood back by a step or two, whisky-glassed eyes absorbing your writhing body in nothing but a pair of cotton underwear and a wet patch that matched the erotic stain over his crotch. He was robotic as movements forced him to remove his own pants, the playing field even, and his cheeks redder than the Safe Haven’s sunset when you immediately ogled at the tent that was pitched under his boxer briefs.

This sort of intimacy was alike a perilous expedition - unsteady footing at first, unsure how to press forward, but leading to a bewitching and alluring adventure with such rapturous salaciousness. It continued when Thomas’ hands were placed on your thighs, rubbing cautiously against your skin before dipping in between your legs. Just knowing that he was so damn close made you whine under your breath, quiet, yet pitched enough to catch Thomas’ attention. 

Your fingers moved absentmindedly as they circled the moistened patch that you created, chest swelling with a held breath. You shuddered, trying to compose yourself, voice humming with please, “I-It feels good when you rub right there…”

“Is that what you do?” He questioned, eyes wide as he took in the information, and fingers dancing hesitantly close to your core. All you could do was nod and whine, hips squirming just from the thought of the pleasure that you’ve previously made yourself feel. It was an instant snap - the build of a rubber band being held back by Thomas’ fiery imprints, before the pressure was released, and the bounce back hit you hard when he pressed into the place that throbbed with wet need. 

Your body trembled with a softened sigh, the attention you were receiving easily turning your mind to mush, and he had barely dipped below the surface. Thomas’ eyes widened as his movements traced in the same tempo as his heavy breaths, chest thumping and skin igniting with warmth - he was in wonderment at the sounds that he drew from you, the squirming and the delicate fluttering of your lashes. It was a side of you that he was seeing for the first time, that anybody was seeing for the first time, and he felt so damn privileged.

The boy stopped quickly as you grasped at his wrist, big brown orbs looking to you in worry; but it quickly dissipated when he saw your loving ghost of a smile as it perked at your lips, and how you gently pushed him away to be able to remove the final piece of clothing that separated you from him. The cool breeze over your exposed slick provoked a shudder up your spine, a second one eliciting when you realised that Thomas’ flushed face was staring at your most private area.

He didn’t hesitate when his finger dragged back over you, collecting moisture that made your body tick when slathered across your sensitive nub. The pressure increased and you were sinking, melting, dissolving into the sheet beneath you. Your body was heavy, yet you felt weightless, allowing Thomas to take every ounce of control to drive you into ecstatic oblivion. His touch drew slightly down and circled the sensitive hole that was swimming in your pleasure, your breath hitching as his fingertip breached until his first knuckle. The boy’s hair was tugged with a needy grasp, the sheets below him shifting as they were too curled within your other hand. 

Thomas cursed under his breath as he rutted slowly against the side of the bed, his finger beginning to pump as he relished in how you squeezed him. He sighed loudly with a teeth-bitten bottom lip, “You like that?” It was rhetorical by what he saw before him, but he needed the affirmation, to know that you were going to unravel in bliss. And that he was why you were floating in a euphoric daze. You managed a whine in reply, head nodding as words were stuck among your hitching and heavy breaths. The tip of Thomas’ middle finger slightly curled as he shifted his position, and you released a sudden cry after he unknowingly rubbed against your spongey roof. He stopped immediately; scared that you were hurt, his chest tightening with worry until he noticed the cry settling into a moan, and your hips instinctively chased his touch for more attention. 

Thomas was known for being brave - diving in head first, running on pure instinct and spontaneity. He wasn’t one to back down, and now he knew what provoked those sweet wanton sounds of a symphony to escape you, he would do whatever possible to keep it going. He pumped his finger harder, his cock twitching against the bedsheet whenever you clenched around him, that one special spot being harassed over and over again until he swore you stopped breathing. His bravery shone when he inserted his pointer finger, his own throat now paying homage as it growled out a groan of desperation at how you both stretched and tightened. His mind travelled to thoughts of how you’d feel wrapped around his throbbing member, and if he didn’t get himself sorted soon, then he’d be leaving behind a spray of stickiness in his pants.

“T-Thomas…” You panted, hips rising and chest heaving as you felt fire bubble in your abdomen. Your voice cracked at the overwhelming sensation, “More… I need more…” 

He was careful to remove his fingers, but hasty when he rose up your body. Lips found yours instantly, as if by a magnetised force, two pairs that were destined to be slotted together with a taste that you could so easily get drunk off of. He licked between your lips until you granted him access to explore you properly, sliding with juxtaposed delicate hunger, and swallowing your breath and moans until they settled as his own. Thomas was slightly started as your nails dragged down his naked chest, goosebumps trailing in their wake before the elastic waist of his final piece of cotton was being attended to. The need was growing substantially as he pulled back - much to the disappointment of both himself and you, your lips pursed and eyes growing wide as you stared to him with such childlike doeness. 

It was becoming too real now as his hands began to shake, but any doubt was wiped clean when Thomas saw the adoring expression that flushed your face and prompted such a beautiful glint in your eye. You were his, and he was yours. That’s how it was and it’s how it would remain. Thomas was ready to give everything and more to you, as you were to him. Always.

The boy drew a deep breath before his boxers were dropped and he toed them to the side, his body bare in front of you. Thomas was pure - the epitome of a dream, a handsome man with arms that could protect you for the rest of your days. It wasn’t until you looked closer that you properly noticed the scars that showed his true story; both small and large imprints that represented sacrifice, and loss, and success. You lent forward with tentative movements until your fingers danced over the marks, and for a moment Thomas flinched, but easily settled as you traced each one with care. With pursed lips, you pressed against one near his navel; a recent wound that would forever remind you of his escape from death, where a bullet pierced his skin and left him unconscious for days. It was a time when you waited by his bedside without reposition, watching the steady rise of his chest as day turned to night, until he awoke in what would be your rightful Safe Haven.

The thought alone provoked wet tears to coat his lower stomach, and Thomas gently slid his hand into your hair as his thumb soothed you with consistent rubbing motions. Thomas was here with you, he was alive, he was real, he was safe and he was so utterly and completely loved.

It was as if he could read your mind as he cooed against the crown of your head, “I’m here, babygirl. I’m not going anywhere.” 

You showed your understanding with more kisses over more of his scars, until every one had been offered endearment. You sat up further on your knees until you could gaze into his caramel eyes and the shade of burnt honey was easily your favourite; they gleamed especially under the afternoon sun, mesmerising swirls that could drag you to the deepest of depths, and you’d let them. They showed kindness and amusement, but right now, they darkened within the thickness of the room and you could’ve sworn that if given the chance… he would eat you alive, right there and then. Oh, how you wish he would.

But this moment was tentative - shared among inexperience, but budding romance and the strongest desires to be held and cherished. You needed to be closer which is why you kissed Thomas slowly, your lashes brushing against his pink cheeks, and your hands tightly squeezing his shoulders as his hardened cock twitched over your stomach. Flames were still burning brightly in your core and they needed to explode before they could be pleasantly extinguished. 

Your mind was too hazy to recall how your hold shifted to arms sliding around his neck, pulling him further in until teeth clashed and silenced groans were exchanged, and Thomas took it in stride to poke his tongue at every crevice he could before sliding it deliciously over your own. He lowered you to the bed before placing himself between your thighs, your ankles returning behind his back, and two hearts reverberating with slight anxiety against the other’s chest. 

Thomas pulled back slightly as his nose nuzzled with yours, a deep breath taken, “We don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready.” He offered quietly, trying to convince himself that his words were purely directed toward you. 

You smiled; the feeling of his wet and puffy lips brushing against your own as you did. You rubbed your nose back against his, “I’m ready if you’re ready… I love you, I’ll do anything for you, Tommy.” 

The boy chuckled in near disbelief. He knew a long time ago that he'd love you - that you’d take up every thought, every dream. That you’d so seamlessly enter into his life like the need for oxygen, and without you, he wouldn’t be able to breathe. You weren’t just needed or wanted, you were necessary to Thomas, and the love he had for you was unchallenged and indescribable. And now, it was also so incredibly mutual. Not that he had any doubts.

“I love you too, so much.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, “So, so much.” 

Thomas’ hips rocked against yours and the desperation was building fast. He thrust once, twice, three times until he was coating himself in your wet slick and it pulled a guttural noise from his throat. There was a time when he felt embarrassed listening to how his friends would recount their sexual experiences, and what they did to their partners, and how good it really felt. Neither of you had gotten to that stage until now, but he was thankful that he listened otherwise he wouldn’t be able to truly experience you.

The boy’s large hands tugged at himself a few times to properly lather himself in your wetness and you couldn’t help but sneak a peek at the package he held, your bottom lip quickly being held captive. You exhaled deeply, eyes widening, voice softening, “A-are you sure that’s gonna fit?” 

He laughed, a sound so sweet, “We’ll just have to see, won’t we? But…it might hurt, okay?” He huffed into your ear, face buried in the crook of your neck as you pressed a trail of open-mouthed kisses to his flushed skin, “So you need to tell me when to stop if it gets too much.” You whined, nodding in acknowledgement as Thomas began to line himself up, the head of his sensitive girth meeting your lower lips. But he didn’t push further, taking another deep breath, “You need to say it, please, baby. I need to hear you say it.” 

Instinctively, you ground up against him and released a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the anticipation grew, “I will, I promise.”

He didn’t need much more convincing as Thomas pushed into you, so incredibly slowly as he savoured how tight you clung to him. Your warmth forced his eyes to roll back and knowing that he was stretching you brought on utter determination. His cock was burying deeper, and deeper, and even he was starting to question now whether he’d fit inside you. Thomas opened his eyes after realising that they were closed, not remembering when he squeezed them shut, and he looked over your scrunched face with a gentle coo. He lifted a hand to your face before his thumb was gentle in pushing out the wrinkle between your eyes, his touch dragging down the curve of your face to cup your cheek. He whispered to you - affirmations and encouragements, reminders of love and pride. 

The lack of reception was a worry that nearly made him stop until you covered his hand with your own, face tilting until you could kiss over Thomas’ palm. You huffed as you were being filled, swearing that you could feel him in your stomach, but the pain would surely dissipate. “I love you, I love you, I love you…” Your mantra repeated like a broken record, getting lost in the heavy panting of your breath, until your back suddenly arched and Thomas had reached the hilt. 

He was already spent as hands braced themselves beside your head, caging you in until all you could see was his kiss-swollen lips and lustful dark eyes checking you for any kind of discomfort. The pressure sucking him into you was a sensation that he could never grow tired of, yet he waited for your face to soften and for the curl of your lips before he was granted permission to finally move. 

It was harmonious when you both sang out in pleasure; the four walls of your hut hopefully thick enough to not draw in any unwanted attention, but at this stage, you could care less about anybody or anything outside of the bubble you and Thomas found yourselves within. His rocking turned to a fastened pace, driven by just how close you both already were to reaching your highs. Hips clashed and lustful sounds echoed as your arms curled under his own and grasped at his shoulders, pulling the boy closer until an inch couldn’t be spared between your sweat-sheened skin. Curses fell from your lips with ease and Thomas relished in the way that he was making you feel, your bodies moving as a single unit as you were pushed and pulled across the bed. 

He nosed your cheek before brushing his lips against yours - not quite a kiss, but a flash of want that was sure to leave behind a burn, and you hoped that the feeling would stay with you forever. He nuzzled into you as he moaned out, “I love you”, his words so sweet in contrast to the near-pornographic moan that followed when you clenched around his cock. It made you rut back against him and meeting his hips halfway was nearly your tipping point. You were chasing after the feeling of ecstasy as it continued to build and continued to run, your arm held out and it was within reaching distance. So close. So close.

You knew you had crossed the finish line when your vision turned to stars; a white light coinciding with delicate heat, your body trembling as you droned against Thomas. You were weightless again - floating in euphoria, your bones melting as you collapsed completely into Thomas and he made sure to hold you against his naked chest with a protective arm across your back. It was the first time you truly felt pleasure and it was perfect.

“You did so well…” Thomas cooed, trying to withstand his own release as he kissed over your temple, his fingers massaging into your spine when he felt a quiet sob escape you. His lips pressed once more, “Just so you know” He started again, his thrusts slowing before he went too far, “You look so beautiful right now.” 

“I’m crying.” You scoffed, eyes scrunching when you pulled back as his cock throbbed from inside you, dragging over the spongey spot that had the potential to drive you to insanity if probed enough. But the feeling was too strong and you were becoming too sensitive. 

Thomas noticed before he pulled out with haste, his tortured girth being fisted roughly within his hand. He took a deep breath, the urge to cum growing nearer as his head threw back and his eyes screwed shut. “You’re beautiful even when you cry.” It wasn’t until he looked at you, the feeling of soft skin cupping his cheeks and your lips slotting against his own, that Thomas finally let go. You swallowed his moans as the boy shook under your grasp; strings of white stick painting his fist and reaching your chest. 

He was the first to break away, the need for air nearly forgotten as he was getting lost in your touch and taste. Thomas’ forehead pressed to yours and his shoulders sagged in absolute content. Your relationship consummated on an entirely different level, and you both had never felt closer to one another. Thomas hummed, his heart rate slowly coming down, yet he couldn’t help but express excitement, “That, fuck… that was amazing. Absolutely amazing.” He grinned as you giggled under your breath, arms wrapping back around his neck, “And you, babygirl.. that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I survived a week in the Scorch.” 

He flinched slightly as you slapped at his shoulder, embarrassment flourishing and your face was hidden as it nuzzled against one of his pecs. The boy continued to rub your back through his tamed chuckles, admiring what he deemed as adorable behaviour, and you acknowledged him with a series of kisses over the damp skin of his chest and an amused tone, “You’re such a dork, Tommy.” 

“I’m your dork.” 

You murmured something incomprehensible against him, followed by a yawn and a satisfied smile. You were worn, in the best way possible, through a moment that would stay with you for as long as life allowed you to keep it. Thomas has saved you in more than one way - allowing you a new lease on life, full of different experiences and emotions, with a promise held in the cusps of forever love. It was a struggle to get to where you are now but you’re glad, no, you’re gratified that it eventually led you to a life with Thomas.

The boy pulled you back to his chest as he squeezed a final hug, his brows furrowing at the feeling of cooling slick between your bodies, a bittersweet end to where love was made, “First things first, I’m gonna have to clean us up.”

[yooneunhay]

Essence of the Feathered Heart

【ＣＨＡＰＴＥＲ　ＴＷＯ】

𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨; (eventually) ot8ateez x hybridbird!reader

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨; human!seonghwa (ft; human!hongjoong, suprisehybrid!idol) x hybridbird!reader

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚; angst, a bit of fluff

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𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐯

i had only been in this adoption center for a day. the staff tried to feed me but i refused. how could i eat with all that just happened to me? i was unwillingly dragged out of my home, put into an adoption center, and not to mention just a couple of hours ago before being dragged out my house, i was shot. the staff did help my wound and wrap my wing in bandages but they had to strap me down for it. even though i had hurt one of the staff in the process, she still was so kind to me. i couldn't understand it.

knock knock

i was sitting with my legs up to my chest and my head laying in my knees, leaning against the wall, when the kind staff lady knocked on my room door and walked in, closing the door behind her. she had a plate of food in her hand, i just watched her as she set the plate on the desk in the corner. the room i was in was a normal room, all white with a bed in the corner and a desk with a chair in the other corner. there was a big window in the front of the room where people could see in. like at a normal animal adoption center. then next to the big window was the door. there was also one more thing about the room. another window. much smaller than the first, with a curtain over it. the curtain was on my side but the first time i moved it, thinking it was a window to the outdoors, there was another curtain on the other side of the glass window.

"must be another room for hybrids.."

the staff lady came over to me. she bent down to my level on the floor. she reached her hand out, and pet me. she was petting the top of my head. i didn't feel anything towards it when she pet me. it's not like i'm a cat i'm not going to purr..but the action was nice, i felt relaxed.

"you're still hurt," she spoke "you need to eat something."

she smiled at me beofre getting up and leaving the room. i wasn't really all that hungry, it had been awhile since i last ate though. i got up after a few minutes of sitting on the floor next to the wall and went to the desk where the food was. i sat down and began to eat. i was almost down with my food when i heard a knocking noise. it wasn't from the door though. i turned around looking at the other wall where the smaller window was. on the other side was another person. a hybrid, smiling at me and waving.

"hi! i like your wings!" the other hybrid said.

my wings twitched at his compliment, and a slight smile spread across my face at seeing his bright smile. the kind of smile you can't help but find calming and heart fluttering. i left my food on the desk and walked slowly over the window with the hybrid on the other side.

"i'm Felix!" he said with a bright smile.

"Y/N" i said back.

he motioned for me to come closer to the window. i walked closer. i noticed his ears first, they were a pretty brown color with white spots on them. he had small antlers that were a big constrast from his beautiful white, almost angel like, hair. he seemed to be a deer hybrid. more specifically a sika deer. i for some reason felt the need to protect him. he seemed so pure..but he was an orange code, why?

"i like that name! how did you get here?" he asked.

"they found my home in the forest..if you don't mind me asking, why are you an orange code? you dont seem at all aggressive." i responded.

he paused and thought for a moment, as if he was deciding if he should tell me.

"my owner sent me here. gave me away. she said she didn't want me anymore.." his smiled faded a bit. "she told the staff i was aggressive so i was put here." he put his head down for a few seconds just to lift it back up and have his bright smile on his face again. "but that's fine! i wasn't the biggest fan of her anyway."

i felt bad. having a owner you think loves you, just for them to give you back to where they find you. i could relate to how im sure he was feeling when it all happened. it was similar to how my family treated me. they acted like they loved me when my grandpa was around, until he passed then they kicked me out.

"i'm sorry to hear that..Felix."

i felt like i should've given him a hug or some sort of comfort. the only thing i could do was give him a smile hoping that would cheer him up in some way.

knock knock

i turned towards the door as a staff member came in. it wasn't the nice lady so my other wing that wasn't bandaged immediately opened to make myself appear bigger as a sort of defense mechanism.

"calm down birdy, there's someone who wants to meet you."

------

𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯

"are you still thinking about that hybrid?"

Hongjoong asked, snapping me out of my daze.

"you've been just staring at the t.v for 7 minutes.."

i looked over to him in the kitchen as he was washing the dishes. the truth is i was still thinking about that hybrid. i wanted to see them again, give them a better life. i think my feelings were clear on my face as Hongjoong stopped doing the dishes and came over to me at the table.

"Seonghwa, if you really think adopting this hybrid will help them, then you should go see them. try getting to know them. see if they would even want to be adopted."

Hongjoong grabbed my hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb. all i could do was smile at him and nod slightly. how would the others react when they found out i was thinking of adopting another hybrid? Jongho is very possessive, i'm sure he wouldn't like it. Wooyoung likes meeting new people and hybrids but they're usually intimidated by his energy. San, even though he's the kindest hybrid ever, isn't the best at making friends. his larger frame tends to make others scared of him.

sigh

"maybe i should.." i said in response to Hongjoong. he smiled at me.

"i'll go prepare some food for you take." he said while getting up and walking back into the kitchen.

i couldn't help but smile at Hongjoong as he walked away. maybe i was thinking too much into it but sometimes i couldn't understand how i got so lucky to have such a amazing life with someone who loves me and hybrids who love me just the same. hopefully meeting this hybrid, they would be able to get that same love.

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hiii !! tysm for reading ! sorry seonghwas pov wasnt as long as the readers :(( i couldn't think of much for his pov ><

if u want to be on the tag list pls comment !!

===

TAGS; @astuteataraxy @newworldwritings

[bimbosandbubbles]

❀⤷Summer Frights!

Summertime Slashers m.list here

Starring Yandere Ghostface Josuke and Okuyasu

Synopsis-Your anxiety raises high when there’s been a slew of murders around your small town,rumored to be a copycat Ghostface terrorizing the town. Soon though your anxiety raises even higher when one night the Ghostface gives you a call around midnight.

Warning’s-murder,descriptive gore,dub con,non con,phone sex,multiple sex scenes,knife play,anxiety,heavy degrading,vulgar words,breeding,double penetration(oral and vaginal), mask kink,praising,pet names,unhealthy obsessive behavior,photos taken without consent,video taken without verbal consent, pussy eating, bondage,blood,biting,yandere,dacryphilia,humiliation,fear play,mentions of boxing Okuyasu and Med student Josuke.NOT PROOFREAD

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ AND UP! MINORS DONT INTERACT!

Word count-10.8k/10,891(First fic and I went overboard)

A shaky breath falls from your lips, a apparent sign of the inner turmoil you feel inside. You thought that this wouldn't happen anymore..That this couldn't happen in your city. That the ever looming presence of death couldn't haunt you so early into your life..you're only a freshman college student,barely graduated from a small high school in Morioh. Why here? Why peaceful little Morioh? Why did a dumb copy cat of a serial kill have to terrorize this quaint town?

And why did you let the thought of Ghostface morning haunt your nightmares? They were everywhere! In the morning when you woke up,they were your very first thought. When you showered,you constantly wondered if they would be stalking from behind the curtains,waiting to mangle and mane your soft body. When you walked from class, you imagined the killer in black being anyone.

Like this very moment right now. You imagine the seemingly kind house wife who just waved at you secretly using one her kitchen knives to kill the poor victim you read about in a news article posted a mere week ago. A victim you considered an acquaintance before his untimely death. You had known him from high school simply because he did something completely unexpected to someone who looks like you. He had confessed,poured out his pure and untainted feelings for you. However,you didn't feel the same and gently rejected him,making sure to still encourage him to stay sweet like the way he was. Over the years the two of you only shared small hello's or encouragements for the future.

But now..he had no more future. For,he was dead,mutilated and found with ripped pages of fat fetish pornos in his emptied stomach that was bare of any bodily organ. The thought of his suffering throughout the ordeal made your skin crawl in fear. Was he screaming for help? Was he begging anyone from the closest proximity to stop his death? Most of all,did he plead for the killers not to hurt him,to spare him?

And because of those bothersome thoughts you couldn't help but think that anyone is guilty for such a sick crime. Every step you take,you look around your once peaceful route to home,wondering if one of these seemingly normal people murdered someone without remorse. The houses you once stared at in calmness and familiarity were now morphed into murder houses. Houses,owned by killers that could be waiting to torture their next victim in utter bloodlust. Nowhere and no one were considered safe to anymore.

You grip your book bag tighter to your shoulder,holding the cool leather material closer to your side. The baby blue sundress you're adorning being softly tugged by refreshing summer wind. The sensation being a reliever to your anxiety induced sweat. Which reminds you that it's really summer now. That you should be happy because you just left your last class of the semester and that you won't have to worry about class for three whole months. However,despite the beautiful sun beaming down at you paired with the perfect breeze you can't help but feel so gloomy inside. How could anyone be happy when someone was just murdered only a week ago? How could anyone be happy when your acquaintance was already the 5th victim of a copy cat serial killer?

Immediately your morbid thoughts are shooed away by a loud booming voice. "Oi,(Reader)! How can ya leave without saying goodbye?" You snap your head back,not being able to fight how a toothy smile once you see your goofy friend. " 'Yasu,I'm sorry! I was in a rush!" Your once eager feet stopped walking to allow the male to catch up with you. Though it's not like he needed you to stop,the man is fit,years of working out and boxing shaping his athletic body. Just as soon as he called out from a distance he's already stooped next you.

"So you were in a rush?" His raspy voice asks. "Mhm I was,I'm just kinda pent and wound up from school and.." You don't have the heart to finish what you were gonna say. But it doesn't seem like you need to because Okuyasu finishes it for you,"The murders." You find Okuyasu's bluntness is nice,because at least something is straightforward to you in this mystery of a murderer or murderers.

"Yeah. It's been kinda umm..scary for me at least." Okuyasu nods as he puts his long muscled arm around your meaty shoulder. "They got me feeling on the fence a little too,especially that last guy. I mean porno mags stuffed in there? Plus them being that weird feeding shit,the guy must've been a real sick pervert." Okuyasu says nonchalantly,as he massages the flesh on right shoulder.

You can't help but think that that's why he had confessed to you before. Because you were a fetish to him,something he got off to and that's it. Now that Okuyasu pointed that out to you can't help but feel a little less empathetic towards the victim now. Disgusting. "Yeah,that's weird." You dryly add. "But umm what'd you chase after me for? I know you didn't just come here to scold me for leaving so soon." Okuyasu's eye's widen like he's barely recalled something. "Right! Umm Josuke and I wanted to invite to a little party at the beach! It'll only be us and a few other friends."

At that,your smile slightly falters. The thought of going to a party with a serial killer on the loose scared you. "Umm Yasu I'm not sure..I just wanna stay home at the moment." Okuyasu already looks at you with pleading black eyes,"C'mon (Reader), we haven't hanged out in forever. Josuke gets ya all the time cause he goes to a stupid university with ya. So please,won't ya just go with us?"

You chuckle," 'Yasu the boxing gym is right by the university,I always talk to you for like 15 minutes a day before and after class." He whines,"But today ya didn't say goodbye,Josuke got you forgetting all about me. That's why you gotta go to this party!" You find his needy behavior cute—almost endearing so you humor him. "Hmm..maybe I'll go. But if I don't go then why don't you and Josuke come over after the party? Just knock on the door and I'll let you in." Okuyasu pouts before speaking,"But what if ya’re sleepin?" You smile at him as you touch the hand he has resting on your shoulder," I won't be,trust me." Technically your promise wasn't empty,ever since the murders you've been having a hard time sleeping.

"Got ya! That sounds good. But I gotta go Josuke's waiting for me with his fancy ass car." He moves his hand to let go of your shoulder but he's met with your pudgy hand gripping it to your flesh harder. "Wait,can you walk me home please Yasu? I feel safer with you around." It's true,the man's positive energy managed to make you briefly forget your dark thoughts earlier.

He stares at you in thought,looking at your needy expression. It's almost like he visibly melted at your words and expression. "Yeah I'll getcha home! Lemme just call Josuke so he knows." Okuyasu pulls out his cracked phone and quickly calls Josuke,"Yo bro,(Reader) wants me to walk her home so just pick me up in the front of her house. Alright bye." He stuffs his phone back into his pocket and tightens his arm he has draped over you.

"Thanks 'Yasu." You kindly remark. " 'Course gotta keep my girl safe." You brush off the usage of "my girl" due to the fact that Josuke and him use it only in reference of how protective they are of you cause of the years long friendship the three of you share. At least that's what you think,right? It couldn't be used romantically,not when Okuyasu and Josuke got new girls on their arms most of the time. However the thought of being Okuyasu's or Josuke's girl..or both is something you find yourself frequently fantasizing about. But that's just silly,dreamful thinking.

The two of you start walking and talking. Conversation flows easily with Okuyasu,it always does. It does too with Josuke but Okuyasu somehow always eases you. He's your comforter,he always has been.

"Welp this is my stop." Okuyasu's voice says. You nod sadly,not wanting to say goodbye so soon to your living comfort. " 'Suke's not here yet,why don't you come inside until he shows up?" Okuyasu doesn't even think before he exclaims,"Yes!" You giggle at his enthusiasm,unlocking the door as you do so.

You enter and Okuyasu does the same behind you,making sure to close and lock the door.

"So are you hungry?" He smiles widely,"I always am!" You smile,"Yes you are! I got some spaghetti and meatballs if that's what you want."

"Yes, I love Italian food! I'll eat whatever you got left if ya let me!" You scrunch your brows in mock thought,"Okay,I'll let you have the whole container." He makes a noise of celebration as he follows you to the kitchen.

The pair of you walk into the kitchen smiling and chuckling, though your happy demeanor falters once you see the sink filled to the brim with dishes. " 'Yasu you can get the food from the fridge,I got to work on the dishes." Okuyasu nods with no hesitation as he rushes to the fridge. You grab an apron that Okuyasu had given you for a birthday years ago with a cringy motto that reads,"A dolla will make ya holla!"

Once he find the spaghetti he puts it in the microwave and he smiles gleefully once he sees you putting the apron on to wash the dishes. "Ya still kept that old thing?" You nod,"Yeah,it's my favorite." You don't miss the small blush that paints his cheeks when you remark that it's your favorite. "Good,it looks great on ya." You smile and turn to make soapy water for the seemingly never ending pile of dishes you had to wash.

Okuyasu’s food is finished in the microwave the moment the beep is heard. He grabs his food and sits down on a chair by the island. You turn your back to him once the water is done and start washing dishes. "Do ya normally wear a apron when ya do the dishes?" You answer back,"No,just when I'm wearing something like a dress or something I like a lot." He hums in thought before you hear him messily slurp and devour the spaghetti.

He swallows before hitting you with another question,"So where are your parents? They're usually home by now." You scrub off a nasty dish while replying,"Umm well I kinda own the house now. Since the beginning of summer,they left and said I had the house to myself. I don't think they'll be back for a few more months. They said that since I'm a college student I deserve my own private space and used that as an excuse to finally travel,not that I mind of course,they deserve that break."

"So ya're alone for a few months?" Okuyasu asks. "Yeah I am." You confirm once more. "Then me and Josuke should come over more often." He quickly says. "And Koichi and his little girlfriend too." He makes sure to add. "Yeah,I could definitely use the company in that case." You warmly welcome the idea. Not only so you're not experiencing isolation but also so you won't make yourself a easy target for the killer.

There's a few minutes of silence—comfortable minutes ,one's where you just hear clanging of the dishes occasionally and your dear friend excitedly devouring the food you've made.  You've grown so accustomed to the silence that you can't stop the shocked gasp that falls from your lips once you feel a big calloused hand placed on your wide waist. "That was yummy,thank ya (Reader)."  He doesn't bother to move his heavy hand once he hears the little gasp instead he tightens his grasp on your squishy waist.

"O-Oh you're welcome 'Yasu. It's a thank you for walking me home." He smiles,"No need to thank me. Like I said I gotta take care of my girl." He emphasizes his words when starts tracing small circles onto the cotton fabric of your dress. "This is real pretty,"he pinches the material of the dress,"Looks really cute on ya. But you always look real cute."  Suddenly nothing else matters,not the dishes,not the fact that Josuke's coming soon,not even the murder that's roaming Morioh,all that matters right now is Okuyasu's touch.

You lean into his touch,"Thanks 'Yasu." Your words come out breathlessly. He hums in acknowledgement,his now two hands becoming his main focus. He squeezes the abundant flesh of your tummy that's hidden by your dress. "Ya're so damn soft." You can't help but let out a small whine at his gentle yet rough actions.

He leans against your back pushing his extremely tall frame against yours,black eyes leering at you. "Thank you 'Yasu." You can't help the awkward and repetitive response,not used to your friend behaving this way with you. Sure,he was flirty with you before but never this upfront with you. His touch advances,inching further up to your slightly exposed cleavage. " 'Y-Yasu.?" You can't help the panicked question. What is he gonna reach for?

"Yeah?" The grumble of his voice sounds erotic,almost like he's turned on right now. "What're you doing?" The question you asked held no malicious harm instead just innocent wonder. That must've snapped out of his daze. "I'm just trynna give ya hug,Josuke's gonna be outside soon so I'm saying a early goodbye." With that his big arms wrap around the whole expanse of your plush middle,his hard rock chest molds against your roll adorned back.

He leans down to give you a wet kiss on your neck,which makes you let out a shocked whine. " 'Yasu!" You exclaimed in embarrassment. "What?" He asks cluelessly. "You can't kiss me without telling me! It's embarrassing!" He smiles,"Yeah? Well Imma kiss you." He kisses your neck again,the attention on your sensitive neck making you giggle.

You slightly push his head away,"Now you know what to do if you wanna kiss me." He hums in acknowledgement. Soon a honk rings out from the front of your house. "Gotta go! Josuke's out front." He let's go of you which leaves you missing his warm touch.

" 'Kay say hi to him for me! See ya later 'Yasu." The male nods and rushes to the front door,the door slamming as he leaves. You leave the kitchen once he's gone to make sure to lock the door. And slowly you trudge back to the kitchen,"Time to do the dishes again."

☠︎

To say the least you were beat after doing the dishes. It's such a easy labor required task however you dread it. But it's not only dirty cups or plates draining you,it's the constant anxiety you feel deep down. Plus the way Okuyasu was behaving with you was different..It made you question so many things. However,the energy for being thoughtful and curious was sucking up too much from you.

You had to take a nap,just a short one. You just need to catch up with your sleep. You wander to find your phone so you can put it on silent and not be bothered with the outside world right now. Surely,you find it and set it to silent,placing it on the coffee table next to the couch that you plop on.

You lay down and curl up like a baby. Sleep,you tell yourself. Go to sleep. Though you craved a nap,you knew that a nightmare might come to haunt your only escape from reality. You haven't been having them too often but when they came,they'd be terrifying.

You forcibly shut your eyes and just relax. Soon enough you find everything leaving,all that is here is just a dreamless peaceful abyss.

However peace can never last long when death is afoot. You wake up with a start,gasping for air and clenching your poor couch cushions in fear. Eventually though,you're able to calm down. You sit up and reach for your phone to look at the time. The screen glare's at you as your eyes struggle to adapt to the light,"12:00 am. How long was I out for?" As soon as you voice your confusion. You see your phone alert you that a unknown caller is calling. You do what everyone else does when they see an unknown caller alert— decline.

"I'm hungry as hell." You mutter. You get up and stretch,letting out an almost pornagraphic moan. Your attention is taken off stretching the moment you see your phone violently shaking. You roll your eyes in annoyance. Who the hell is this persistent? You grab your phone and instantly your annoyed attitude morphs into one of fear.

Ten texts and multiple missed calls decorate your lock screen. They read threats like,"Answer the phone slut!" Or "I'll fucking murder you if you don't answer right now." Your breathing quickens,"What the hell should I do?" You thought of calling the cops but immediately you think about the original ghost face killings. Ghost face was always near by when he made calls so..that means the killers might be very close to you. But this might be just sick prank call,right?

So you do the not so smart thing and try to survive instead. Hurriedly you call the number and find yourself met with the taunting ring of the phone. Finally,an alarmingly deep voice speaks on the other end of the line. "Imma make this simple for you. Start rubbing your pussy right now."

Your breath takes a pause in your throat. Did you hear that right? "W-What?" You ask. "I said start rubbing your pussy now. Don't be a disobedient slut." For some reason a bit of fear leaves you,being replaced with courage. "No." You state. The voice chuckles,"No? What,now you want to act all brave? I know that you tremble in fear every time you hear about what we’ve done in the news. So don't act all confident with me and just rub your pussy like a good slut."

You gasp in amazed fear. This was—it couldn't

be—Ghostface themselves or himself. The voice chuckles once more at your shocked display. "Aww you're so cute but you're so dumb! That's why I need you to rub your pretty little cunt for me,it's the only thing your little dumb brain can handle."

With a uneven breath you ask,"Do you want me to umm..get naked?" You could hear a smug smile once he replies,"Good girl! You're learning how to please me. Yes,I want you to get naked and I want you right in front of that window you got in front of the coffee table. I want you to have your legs spread completely wide with your back against the table,I wanna see ya just like that,got it?" See you? He could see you? The thought alone makes your blood run cold.

"I expect an answer every time I say something. Do you understand me?" You quickly cough up a small yes. "Good,now hurry up and undress." You couldn't believe you found yourself submitting so easily to a killer—a perverted killer who's getting off to your garnered fear of them. It makes you so angry—so enraged yet you found yourself obeying like some obedient pup all because of fear. Such a coward—such a pussy you are right now. However you can't bring yourself to scold your submissive actions any harder because absolute terror is overruling the anger your feel.

And that's how you find yourself bare of any clothing,nude and vulnerable for the eyes of a sick fuck. Your baby blue dress stays by your feet,a visual reminder of your embarrassing submission . A low groan is heard through the phone , a groan that sounds so lustful it has you curling into yourself. "Fuckkkk,you're so perfect. You're so fucking gorgeous. Spin for me,I want to see all of you." The demand leaves no room for arguments so you shyly—albeit awkwardly you do a little turn hurriedly . "Mmm,my perfect girl. Do another spin for me,slowly this time. I wanna look at what I own."

You obey his command once more,dying of humiliation the longer each turn took. What's worse is you don't know where he's looking from. Is he in the front of the window? Is he in a tree up above? You don't even know if it's just a he,it could be a them—the murderous duo who's now personally terrorizing you. "Good girl,now put the phone on ya table and put me on speaker. Now spread your legs for me like a good girl."

Once again you find yourself obeying him to the exact T. As you bend down to place your back against the table you wonder why he's doing this to you? Why you? Why your town? Why poor little Morioh?

You feel the cool wood make contact with the rolls that adorn your soft back. A little whimper leaving your insanely chapped lips once the cold table touches you. "Mmm,good girl,"he practically purrs,"Now I don't want you to start rubbin just yet. Play with those pretty tits,yeah?" The phasing of his last sentence made you queasy because of the sheer audacity to make that sound like a question when at it's core it's a order. A order that reminds you of your fear.

Your fingers slightly tease your blooming bud—the cool air teasing your nipple away from it's natural softness. It feels nice—good so good that you almost forget why you're doing this. Your other hand squeezes the stretch mark decorated breast on the side closest to your heart. The warm,gentle attention riles out a small moan from your mouth.

The man on phone coos to you,celebrating the obedience he didn't have to fight you on. "You're so gorgeous! So glad you're such a good girl for me and I didn't have to hurt your perfect body! My smart girl knows what's best for her,huh?"

You hum a response,too focused on the task that's melting in your hands. Your breast continues to be meddle with,each massaging motion feeling better than the last.

Somehow his already deep voice reaches a lower octave,"Stop. Start playin with your pussy." Lust oozes from the speaker. Untouched,evil desire is all you heard come out of him at this moment. Is that why he's doing to you? Lust? To own your body with the leash of fear he has snug around your neck? What a sick pervert.

You reach down,inching away from your sweaty chest—touching the wet arousal you're disgusted to have formed. You could call it a natural bodily reaction to the fondling your breasts received but you know—you know that his degrading praise had a hand in the layer of moisture that built up on your pussy.

Your fingers clip onto your aching clit,a rubbing motion starting on from there. Rub,rub,rub, and rub is all you can think about—your pleasure,the promise of cumming is what you deserve for being forced to put on a show for a murderer. "Atta girl,keep rubbin. Your pussy looks so pretty,doll! Fuck,just wanna stuff my face in there. Would ya like me to eat you out,huh,sweet thing?" His words are slightly labored this time,an almost groany tone releasing from his lips.

"Mhm!" Is all you mutter. A short answer,yet just the answer that the serial killer needed to hear. "Yeah? Want me to suck on that fuckin pretty clit? Want me to force my face in between those thick ass thighs? Yeah—shit,wanna have you on my face—don't wanna fuckin breath until you cum all over my face." His groans—oh my god his groans, your could feel your needy cunt clench around nothing. He sounded so good,so wanton,so needy! But you can't enjoy his sounds,not when he's taunting you like this—not when he and his partner murdered five innocent people!

But what if you just let yourself indulge for a second? Just a quick second and then you could go back to quivering in fear. Oh please—oh please just a moment to get pleasure from his desire of you. "Hmmph—Shit all I can think about is your cute ass sittin on ma face. I'll eat your pretty little cunt for days! Fuck—Fuck—put ya fingers inside! Wann' see your pussy stretched out."

You don't question the command—two fingers sink into your clamping hole. A keen frees itself from your gasping throat. Feels so good! Feels so good to have something inside,something to distract your empty pussy. You start making a up and down motion,each movement making contact with your warm sensitive walls.

"Ah—feels good!" You babble. It's embarrassing—demeaning how easily you gave into him—the pleasure he gives has you oh so sensitive. "Yeah,baby? Ya cunt feel good?" You furiously nod your head,knowing that verbal responses weren't the only thing he'd understand. He's watching you after all.

"Shit, you're so good for me! Ma lil slut—my good fuckin cock whore! Fuck—wish I could be in ya instead of your little ass fingers, I could make ya feel so much better—stretch ya out real nice and good,have ya screaming fa' me and scratching my back. Wouldn't I,baby?" You almost choke on your moans when you force out a response. " Y-You would! You'd mmm—make me scream!"

"Shitttt...keep talkin like that,sweet thing. Wanna replace your fingers so fuckin badly now—gonna make sure your little cunt is a cum dump once I'm done with ya! Gonna bred ya and ruin ya for anybody else—shit—fuck yourself harder right now."

You oblige and start reaching — wiggling fingers inching deeper for that wonderfully good spot. You feel so close if only you could find that small mushy spot that would make you see stars.

Almost like he could read your body language perfectly he says,"Ya're close aren't you? Ya gonna cum soon? Fuck—me too! Gonna cum—wanna cum with ya! Shit—need ya to cum now."

Almost like some magic word you find that special spot and a pathetic mewl comes out of your mouth. Your back arches out,the position forcing out your plentiful tummy out even more.

You huff and huff an attempt to catch your lost breath. The man has became silent, any sign of him being present is gone.

The air is only full of the smell of your sex and your constant puffs. Finally, he speaks up again,"Ya did a good job,sweet thing! Call ya tomorrow at the same time." With that he leaves you to sit in silence accompanied by the constant blaring reminder of his quick exit.

Your mouth gapes open,"What the fuck just happened?"

☠︎☠︎

"(Readerrrr), ya there?" Josuke calls out. His concerned diamond blue eyes pour into yours. Your body flinches at the sound of your friend's deep voice. "Y-Yeah,just a little shaken up." You reply. Smoothly Josuke's sleeveless arms round your shoulders and coddles you closer to his chest. "Ya? Did ya have a nightmare before we got here?"

You accept his affection gesture—leaning in and pushing your pudgy cheek into his chiseled pecs. "Why didn't you tell me and Okuyasu,we could've taken care of ya way earlier." Chiding with him,Okuyasu pipes out,"Yeah! You can tell us anythin. We got ya back."

The thought of spilling your guts and telling them whatever happened only an hour ago crosses your mind—it's brief because you realize it's stupid. No way you'd put any of your friends in danger involving the terrorizers of Morioh. That's right—it's only been a hour since the call,only an an hour since you've dirtily indulged into his demands. But no—enjoying it meant they'd win and you can't let them have anymore power over you.

A part of you wonders what if? What if Josuke and Okuyasu came just at the stroke of midnight? Would they have been able to protect you from the murderers? But that what if is a distant reality—the real reality being is that your favorite duo showed up at your doorstep with snacks in hand and bright smiles. Stories of Koichi being forced into a embarrassing bathing suit by Yukako and Rohan screaming Josuke's head off when he buried him in the sand while he was sleeping on beach were exchanged with you.

Stories that kept the air light and distractive until the three of you sat on the couch to watch a movie. The polite custom of staying silent during a movie was driving you crazy,the silence leaving too much space in your head to think about what occurred.

You place a fake smile onto your lips," Thanks you guys but really I'm fine,I promise." To add weight to your adds you further snuggle into Josuke's chest and reach for Okuyasu's mangled hand,to which he gratefully accepts by gripping your hands in a no escape hold. "If ya say so." Okuyasu says. Josuke gives an annoyed look towards the unaware male,one that you've learned means that Okuyasu didn't say the right thing or he said something dumb. "What Okuyasu meant to say is if you want us to stay the night or just stay away longer?"

At first,the instinctual answer was no—strictly because you don't want to cause them too much trouble. Josuke constantly takes you places in his car because you're too fearful of the bus or walking too far away from home. Okuyasu was a already like a guard dog before the murders,but now he constantly wants to stick to you like glue no matter where you go. Of course there's exceptions of this happening like today but majority of the time that's what happens.

However,that first move to say no is gone out the window once they start touching you. Josuke starts thumbing at your back,creating soothing patterns all over the the hot skin. Okuyasu's big veiny hands are twiddling with your fingers like you're some dainty little thing to him. The touches feel good—comforting,making your poor little stressed mind let go.

"Okay." You mumble. "Yeah?" Josuke confirms. "Mhm." You hum into his chest. "Hell yeah! We haven't stayed over in forever!" Okuyasu exclaims. "Are we gonna sleep in your room?" The blunt man asks. Now that he's mentioned it,you're not sure where they should sleep. The suggestion of your room didn't really concern you all that much. After all these are your friends so won't do anything strange,right?

Sure,they are 6'1 and 6'4 men who's body weight mostly consist of pure hard earned muscle but besides that the thought of them sleeping in a room shared with you isn't really intimidating at all. In fact,it comforts you knowing that they're going to be with you in your room. You know you'd have incoming nightmares or a sleepless night ahead caused by that call,so two friends that happen to be men and very attractive are just doing what good friends do.

"Of course, you're gonna sleep in my room,silly! It wouldn't be a sleep over if you weren't." You happily exclaim. "Yeah!" Okuyasu leans over you to give Josuke a type of handshake that you don't even bother to look at. It fills you with glee to see the two of them so ecstatic to be staying with you. However,the feeling of glee doesn't overcome the impending sleepiness you start to feel.

"I think I should start setting up the bed for us." You state. Josuke's brow perks up in a inquisitively,"Us?" A rush of flustered heat floods through your body for the assumption that three of you would share your bed. You feel so comfortable with them it merely slipped out. "Um—I mean it's just cause I have pretty big bed and they'll be plenty of space for you two but I realize how silly that is now. Just forget it I'll

get—

"No,No! That's perfect, me and Oku' won't mind at all. You're our friend after all." You catch many nice things about his interrupting sentence,especially the way his honeyed tongue says "our " with almost a possessive gripe. You brush over it though, no matter how odd it sounded—instead you choose to favor his laxness about sharing a bed with you.

"Uhh well perfect! Let me just set up then and I'll call you two up to bed." You offer a marshmallowey smile before you turn from the pair and walk your way up the stairs—missing the lust glazed stares of your trusted friends directed at your teasing dimpled cheeks peeking out from your loose cotton shorts. If only you could see Josuke and Okuyasu hissing as they adjust the semi's that's grown in their jeans.

You find yourself in your room,adjusting your bed for more room and comfort. You move your stuff animals and overly big pillows,setting it on free spaces throughout the room. That's it,that's all you had to do. Yet,you weren't gonna call them up. Not yet.

You stare down at the baby blue sun dress you took off during the call that you tossed on your floor in a crying haze once the killer hung up. The dress felt like a lingering memory of what happened and what's to come. "Call you tomorrow at the same time." The words ring in your head, a consistent reminder to of your impending doom. You'd be some type of sick sexual outlet for the killer(s). And then what? Once they were done with terrorizing you with calls would they come up from a secret hiding place by your house and tally you off as another victim of theirs? The 6th victim? Or worse would they violate you—ignore your agency—the word no and pleas of reason would mean nothing to them.

And now you're here,being such a coward. Accepting their plans for you like some type of sick puppy. You make yourself sick,the thought of just surrendering makes a deep pool of raging nausea roar from the bottom of your belly. How can you be so—so easily available? You just obeyed whatever he said and when you did stand up to him you just surrendered due to the deep rooted fear of what he and his accomplice could do.

Just how weak willed how are you? Listening to a killer that demanded you to touch yourself and actually doing it! Loving the way he praised you—guiltily indulging into the desperate groans

he howled out for you. And worst of all, actually feeling your heart and clit beat with the promise of this repeating tomorrow. How sick you are.

You swallow a wad of contempt mixed with saliva before your tongue sticks out to wet your flaky lips. You call out," 'Sukeeee! 'Yasu!! You can come up now!" They heard you as soon as you said the sentence because you quickly hear the stomping up the stairs.

During the short time you throw the dress in your closet and look back in a lost daze before you slam the closet door shut. You sigh,"What am I gonna do?" You don't have much time to think about the next step before Okuyasu zooms into the door frame. He's panting—big wide chest moving up and down in a seducing rhythm. "Told ya I could beat you up the stairs Josuke!" He proudly and rather cutely says.

Not even a second later Josuke is up behind Okuyasu, Josuke's shorter frame slightly being blocked by him. It's funny how someone even as tall as Josuke looks short compared to Okuyasu. The pompadour wearing man rolls his eyes,"Yeah,Yeah meathead I know I lost." Okuyasu doesn't even bother to hide his amusement,in fact,the man can't stop laughing. "Maybe you should become a boxer like me instead of being Mr.Future Doctor. That'll get you faster."

"Yeah and risk breaking this nose?" He points to his perfectly pointed and straight nose. "No,thanks." You giggle at their interaction,"I don't know 'Yasu, Josuke's pretty built for someone who doesn't box." Okuyasu dramatically slacks his jaw,"C'monnnn he's not better than babies." Okuyasu flexes his thick arms,posing them in a abstract Y position.

You smile and lean over to touch the hard mass of muscles,chubby digits feel up his biceps. "Ooo very hard 'Yasu!" The teasing compliment flusters the tall man,making him splutter out,"Course they are! I take good care of myself! I eat real good too!" You look at him,"I know, 'Yasu. Anyone can really tell how good you take care of yourself."

Josuke chuckles this time,"Well remember Okuyasu,this future doctor takes care of all your injuries because you always spend your money

too fast and can't afford an actual hospital bill." Okuyasu whines," Man you can't use that against me,I always get my money back anyways."

"Right." Josuke remarks sarcastically. You laugh once more before disputing the whole interaction. "All right,all right you both are just great the way you but you'd be even better asleep." The both whine out an okay and drag their feet to your bed.

You slide into the middle of the soft mattress but stopping halfway though to ask,"Are you guys fine with me being in the middle?" They don't seem to mind because they simply just shake their head. You nod and finally make yourself comfy in the insulated center of the bed.

However,comfort doesn't last long when both of the males turn their handsome faces towards you. You don't fail to catch their staring eyes drinking you in. You feel a pool of nervous saliva coat your mouth," 'Suke can you turn off the light?" The male nods and leans over to switch off the lamp placed on your bedside table.

The second the lights turned off Okuyasu boldly grips wraps his big arms around the whole expanse of your rounded front—thick hard muscle grasping your wide waist in possessiveness.  The actions so sudden a small gasp flees from you. " 'Yasu not so rough!" You exclaim in a flustered panic. He doesn't say anything in response,instead digging his scabbed extremities into the plushness of your pouch sitting above your pillowy hip bones and groin.

He nuzzles his face into your shoulder,instantly knocking out onto your flesh. Josuke and you share a glance of shock and amusement. You break the silence with a quiet giggle. "I forgot how easily he goes to sleep." Josuke nods,"I know right? He's just like a baby." 

You smile,"Yeah,wish I could go to sleep as easily as him." Bright diamond blue eyes peer into you,analyzing your very being. An inhale of breath is heard before," How have you been holding up?" The question rings into the air,almost like you don't want to answer it.  You can't tell Josuke—your protector,your friend,the guys who's ward off bullies by going in a blind rage of attack when bad things has ever been said about you—that the taunting ghost of Morioh called you to get himself off in some sick way.

He'd get only hurt and dragged into a unfolding mess. You can't do that to him! Sure,he's strong and tall,standing at 6'1 feet with some raging fighting skills. But could he take on the Ghostface? The man who mutilated a person you used to know so inhumanly. Not even to mention there's most likely two of them. No,Josuke couldn't know. For his sake.

"I've been doing okay. Just always nervous,ya know?" He hums in acknowledgment,long lashes kissing his cheek bones. His smooth yet textured fingers gently rub back and forth on a small patch of flesh of your cheek. "I know,baby. But me and Oku will take care of ya anyway you need. All you need is us,the rest of the world will just ruin ya."

You look up at him and catch his wrist in affectionate hold,your own fingers rubbing skin as well. "Mmm,I know you'll take care of me—the both of you but I just can't get this constant fear out of me. I'm so scared of them. " Josuke looks at you in thought,trying to find the right thing to say to comfort you.

"You're not their MO,they won't touch you."  You find comfort in how matter factly he states it,like he's completely sure that nothing will happen to you. "I know but it's just the last victim I knew. You remember that one guy in high school who confessed to me? That was him. And it's just so hard for me to actually grasp that he's no longer here anymore."

Josuke's gentle and somber expression melts away,twisting in a disgusted one. "That guy was a creep,(Reader). He just fetishized you,like you're some type of meat. And you're not,you're the most sweetest,most beautiful,most considerate person and that fucker was probably just jerking off to ya body." You're gagged by how easily he tore into the deceased man.

"But still—" You try to speak but you're cut off with a cold cut sentence,"No,I think he got exactly what was coming to him."  You stare up at the male, shocked by the discovery of just how cold and ruthless he could be. " Josuke..." you trail off. He looks at you,his angry expression fleeing from him the moment he does.

"I'm sorry I must scare ya talking like that." He stops rubbing your cheek,replacing the soothing touch with cupping it. You nod,"Yeah,I've never heard you so...cruel before." He leans closer to you,softly sighing. "I know but creeps like that just piss me off. I'm sorry, I won't talk like that in front of you again."

You peer into Josuke's pretty eyes,not missing the barely lingering murderous glint reflecting in them. It fills you with a pool of anxiety and a little drop of suspicion. But Josuke couldn't be one of the men plaguing Morioh,he loves Morioh after all! He talks about the city so beautifully—the people he loves that reside here. So naturally,you easily brush off the creeping inkling.

" It's okay,let's just not talk about it anymore." You assure as you lean into his touch. People could call it delusional or just pure ignorance to brush off someone's body and verbal language if they were acting like Josuke a few moments ago. But no,you feel in your heart that he and Okuyasu could never commit such heinous crimes. They could never..at least that's what you told yourself to help halt the booming alarm bells coursing through your brain.

Josuke nods,"Yeah,let's just go to sleep,m'kay?" You don't protest him,welcoming the suggestion of sleep. " G'Night 'Suke." He hums a response and snuggles closer to your neck. You close your eyes,attempting to drift off to a peaceful darkness.

Josuke's rhythmic breathing against the nape of your neck soothes you like a lullaby does.

☠︎☠︎

"Sorry me and Okuyasu had to go to work. We tried to wake u up but u wouldn't budge. See you later tho and stay safe!" Is what you read as you groggily pour yourself some milk for the cereal you're about to eat.

"Ughgg I can't believe I slept in for so long..." you complain. It's now 4:39 in the afternoon and you find yourself dazzlingly eating not so good cereal.

You guess though,that at least this is somewhat normal for a person your age. To sleep long and be unproductive the moment summer break hits. But you're no longer a normal college student anymore,for the man taunting your innocent city is now personally bothering you.

You wait and wait and wait,doing things to keep your mind busy until the clock strikes 12. Time slowly yet quickly slips the your finger tips. It seems every time you pursue an activity the time goes the quicker. It's almost like the universe can sense your unrelenting anxiety and chose to pick on you.

5' o clock

6' o clock

7' o clock

8' o clock

9'o clock

10'o clock

11' o clock

Your face is crest fallen once you look down at your phone and realize that it's only one hour away from the awaiting phone call. Your chest tightens and suddenly all the air from your lungs flees. One breath,then another,and a third one before you slide down a wall.

It feels like the whole sky is resting on your racing chest. It's too much—it hurts it's so much.

You wheeze and try to compose your breathing. Slowly—extremely slow your compose yourself and once you do you immediately stand up.

"I can't stay here..! I-I have to go!" The thought of staying in your own house is too much right now. The thought of just sitting in your home like a sitting duck almost makes another panic attack ensue. You hurriedly grab your phone and stuff it into the pocket of the mid thigh length shorts you're wearing and slide on some sandals.

You rush out your door and start an instant pace away from your house. Further,you just needed to be further. It's now finally hitting you that there's no real escape! The police couldn't and wouldn't help,after all they haven't done much of anything to help with the disgusting crimes committed prior. Josuke and Okuyasu can't help you,they're just regular young adults just like you.

You're just screwed,so screwed. And you may have made yourself even more screwed by making the rather impulsive decision to walk away from home. But you honestly didn't make it too far,being only 10 houses away from your own. You pull out your phone from your pocket and it's barely 11:15. You could still walk back to your house..but then what? He'd call and tell you to touch yourself again and then you'd just do whatever he says?

That didn't sound good to you at all. However the choices are slim—go to the police force who won't do anything about or accept whatever they'll want you to do. Both of those choice sound horrible,however one has a more merciful fate. If you were to go to the police you feel that they would know but if you were just to be obedient,maybe,just maybe you'd have a sliver of hope to be unharmed.

With that you briskly walk back to your once beloved home. The overwhelming sense of dread constantly pokes at you. You'd just have to suck it up,no matter what they gave to you.

You wrap your ample arms around the protruding roundness of your stomach,gripping anything for comfort. Despite your poor attempt at comfort you still feel a sinking ball of anxiety fall lower into the never ending pit of your tummy.

You never thought that is ever growing ball of sensed doom could get any bigger,however once you arrive at your house and find the door to your house is barely ajar.  

Your heart booms and booms against it's confined cage. The hairs of the back of neck stand tall once you feel the familiar vibration of your phone shaking against your leg. A shaky hand reaches for the cellular device and you see the dreaded numbers.

Unlike last time,you made sure there's no room for blowing off a unknown number again. You answer,fear injecting your tone,"H-Hello?" You can practically hear the smile on the murderer's face,"Heya doll! You've been a good girl fa' us?" This voice...sounds different—raspy and deeper than the voice prior. This must the other half of Ghostface.

"Y-Yes." You answer. "Hmm...Don't sound so bummed out! It'll be good in a lil bit,okay?" You're off put by the shift in personality and tone. This Ghostface sounded nicer,less impatient and sadistic. Although the new voice is a scary find,it doesn't distract you from the slightly opened door to your home. "Did you come to my house?"

The question stands still,the man on the other line letting it cruelly marinate. "I dunno,why don't ya find out?"  A thin layer of anticipation sweat coats your face as you gulp down a wad of saliva. "I'm waiting inside,are ya really gonna make me be here all night?" It's whiny—his tone,almost childish. It reminds you of someone but you can't put your finger in it.

"N-No." You remark. "Yeah? Then,hurry inside. I gotta surprise for ya." Something told you that this surprise isn't something you'll be very glad to see. The images of someone's intestines lining your floor as some sick substitute for romantic rose petals—blood splatters coating the untouched decor instead of calming candles. Or worse,them waiting with knives in their hand preparing to torture you and mutilate your body.

What you find when you enter the invaded house isn't intestines,nor blood splatters. No,what you find is much worse than anyone's sick mutilation. Dozens of polariod pictures decorate the wooden floor. With each step you take it's like looking at a mirror full of past yous because all the images laid on the foundation are of you. Naked,clothed,changing,eating,sleeping—whatever a person's daily normal activities are all there right in front of you.

But what's really the icing on this fucked up cake,is the two bodies cloaked in black and elongated dramatic masks,standing there in the middle of splay of pictures. Ghostface.  The sights are so terrifying,so incredibly off putting that you don't know what to look at—the secretly taken pictures or the Ghostfaces that have ruined Morioh.

"Well are ya just gonna stand there or are ya gonna greet us?" The raspy voice rhetorically asks. If you weren’t suffering from shock you would’ve made the smart choice and walked over to them but you physically couldn’t move. Your body feels like a leaf struggling to fight the wind

— the trembling exuding from your nerves being unstoppable. “Aww she’s scared! We can’t just leave her like that.” The one who’s slightly taller says.

“Yeah,you’re right. Let’s make this easier for her.” The pair walk over to you and there’s so much tension. So much fearful curiosity on what’s going to happen to you. “P-Please…” That’s all you can mutter. Just please. Please what? Please don’t murder me? Please don’t hurt me? You don’t know what you’re asking for but you just wanted to stop whatever’s happening to you.

“ Josuke’s she’s pleading,I feel bad.” Josuke? Your Josuke? There’s no way you heard that right. A hard swat is heard,a harsh impact landing on the male’s arm. “Ya idiot! She was supposed to know after we were done! Fuck,you just ruined our plan.” The man you call a friend,the man who’s comforted you from Ghostface …is the one disturbing Morioh.

You want to be pissed,want to yell and scream and tell them what sick bastards they are. They only thing you can manage is a broken sob fleeing from your body. Hot tears soak your cheeks, the constant moisture never leaving. You can’t even bear to stand anymore,your knees giving out on hard wooden floor.

“Why?! Josuke,how could you?! Okuyasu why?! Just why?!” You cradle your hands in your face and just sob,letting snot and salty tears build up on the skin. Hard heavy boots stomp their way to your form and a gloved hand forces you to look up at a screaming mask.

“Don’t go pitying yourself. You should be thankful we did all this for you—because we love you. Don’t you realize how lucky you are to have two people so in love with you?” By now Josuke’s taken off his mask,allowing you to stare at his crazed expression. Okuyasu joins in,his bare face shown to you too,”Yeah! Me and Josuke are just doing this because we love ya! So just be a good girl like last night and everything should be good,m’kay?”

“You love me..YOU LOVE ME?!” You voice trembles with a mixture of rage and betrayal. “How can you even claim to love me when you hurt my community?! How do you even have the audacity to say such a thing when you’ve lied and manipulated me?! You two bastards are sick!” You’re about to stand up before Josuke’s strong hand shoots out and pushes your head down with a insane amount of strength.

“You’ve always been stubborn (Reader)…but if ya can’t see what we’re trying to do for you then fine. I didn’t want to be so rough with ya…only wanted to scare ya a bit and then fuck your poor little brains out but since you wanna be a bitch though we’ll do it the hard way.” Effortlessly,so easily he scoops you up and hauls you over his shoulder. You hang over his muscular back and scratch your dull nails through the fabric. It doesn’t seem to be effective and only manages to piss him off because he roughly spanks your slightly exposed bottom.

“Behave.” He warns. You whine at the impact but stop your physical protest. “Okuyasu go get the rope,she won’t stay still.” Chills crawl down your spine the moment he utters that and so…casually too. “Right.” Okuyasu stops following you two and goes back downstairs.

Josuke takes you to your room and plops you on the bed. You attempt to force out all the hatred and betrayal and..sadness you feel once you look at him in face again. He chuckles at that,seemingly amused by it. “You can never be mad at us—at me,you’ve always had such a soft spot for me and Okuyasu. So just accept whatever we give you,yeah?”

With that he pushes you flat on your back onto the springy mattress,his big hand cradling your wrists as he straddles you. He pulls something from his pants and once you see the reflective glimmer of a cool metal your chest starts racing up and down. “What’re you do—“ His gloved fingers mush your lips shut. “Shhh..just let me do it.”

He brings the knife down to your thin cotton tank top,the tip of the jagged knife circling your hardened nipple. “No bra?” He smugly asks. “Were you waiting for me and ‘Oku to ruin ya’re cunt?” You shake your head no and he chuckles. “What do that little phone call I gave you yesterday didn’t have ya pacing in excitement? Didn’t have your pretty fuckin cunt clenching around nothin?”

You ignore him yet he’s still amused. “It’s okay,sweet thing you don’t have to lie to me. I know how your body feels.” He continues his gestures,making sure the cool blade nips at your erect nipples. A small whine falls from your lips at the cold contact—sounds are pulled from you by the attention on your bare breasts. “Shit ya sound so good,ya know that? Fuck needa see your pretty titties.”

He quickly cuts open your shirt with the weapon,not caring about how dangerous the swift motions are. Josuke practically drools once he his dilated pupils lock onto your chest and tummy. “Fuck,Okuyasu better hurry up before I take you for myself…” His veiny hands grip the pillowy flesh rested on your chest,his flat finger nails digging into you.

Okuyasu comes barging into the room with a coil of rope and a cam recorder. “Noo you started without me!” He impatiently sets the items onto the bed and rushes over to hover over you. His eyes light up like a little kid in a candy shop once he lays eyes on you. “Ya’re so fuckin gorgeous (Reader)!” Impulsively his hand reaches over to touch your boobs,not even bothered by the fact that Josuke’s hands are over them.

“ Josuke move your hands,I wanna feel.” He complains. “Whatever…” He arises from his straddling position and walks over to the other side of the bed. Happily Okuyasu takes his spot and hops over your laying body. His face dives into your chest and whatever he’s doing feels so unbelievably nice. He suckles like a baby being nursed on your exposed nipples,rotating from your left to right one. He mushes and massages eagerly,loving the way you feel.

“You taste…so fucking good! I wanna know what that pretty cunt tastes like!” He pops off your tits so crudely but you can’t bring yourself to care. All you can even get out is small whimpers and grips on his hair. “Yeah,Okuyasu eat her cunt! I’ve been thinking about that since I called her. It’s so fuckin fat Okuyasu…and her little clit just throbs whenever you give it any attention.”

“Shit really? You’re a real lucky bastard Josuke,gettin to see her cummin on her fingers.” Josuke chuckles,”I think you’re the lucky one,you’re the one who gets to taste it first.” Okuyasu doesn’t argue that so he hastily pulls down your shorts and panties. “Spread your legs,baby.”

You do as he says,allowing him to slide off your clothes. He quickly slides down your body,making his way to your cunt. He pushes your thighs apart and whistles an appreciative tune. “Mmm..you weren’t lying,her pussy’s so pretty.” Without any warning he nudges his nose against your clit. Affectionately teasing the throbbing button.

He spreads apart your pussy lips even separating your thick pubic hair that’s stuck to the moisture of your cunt. He dives in with zero hesitation,wrapping his mouth around your hammering clitoris. You writhe and moan at his attentive behavior—everywhere,his tongue felt everywhere.

It felt like you couldn’t catch a break, every few minutes you were gasping and moaning,arching your back away from the bed. Okuyasu spits down your pussy as he sits up to look at you. “You look so fuckin cute. Josuke you gotta film this…look at her face—fuck I got so much pre cause of it.” He immerses himself back in between your legs this time scissoring two of his fingers into your accommodating walls.

His free hand clenches the hanging fat above your cunt,the harder he licks the more his grip becomes more rough. “Look at me,sweet thing..Look at the camera.” Josuke points the camera down at you with one hand,the other rubbing a painful looking bulge fighting against the fabric of his pants. You whine and whimper,” Y-Yasu! Don’t stop!”

Your encouragement only makes the tongue in between your legs move more passionately. It feels so good! So good! So good,that you can’t fight back the cascading tears falling from your eyes. “Shit—you feel so good that ya’re crying,baby? Yeah? You like Oku’s tongue on your sweet cunt?” The male leans down and lick away the salty tasting liquid from you plush cheeks. “Mmm..just everything tastes good about you.”

“Aaah! ‘Gnna cum! G’nna cum!” Slur after slur Okuyasu continues his aggressive attack on your sensitive pussy. You push away from his mouth,using your hands to uproot you from your place on your back however you’re met with big hands digging into the flesh of your wide hips. “Nu uh,don’t move away from him! You’re interrupting his meal. We can’t let ya do that…” Josuke sets the camera down onto bedside table and reaches for the discarded rope.

He swiftly bounds you by your wrists and softly pushes you back onto the bed. “Now be a good girl and take it!” He exclaims. By then Okuyasu seems to have found a special spot that would take you over the brink of pleasure. He curls his digits against the mushy spot and a loud hysterical scream falls from your lips.

You see black spots taking over your vision. You can’t hear anything,can’t even see,a mind numbing orgasm taking over all senses.

You’re so incoherent that you don’t even know how you’re sprawled out on your hands and knees. “Ya’re gonna take this dick,doll? Hmm,you want this fat cock hitting ya cervix?”

You look behind you and find Josuke positioned behind you.

“W-What??” Okuyasu hushes you by pushing the tip of his pre cum covered head against your lips. “Just enjoy it,doll face..Just enjoy it.” Is all you hear before the tip of his mouth enters your mouth.

You mumble around his tip right before Josuke mercilessly thrusts inside of your cunt. Your lips pop off Okuyasu’s tip in a surprised moan. “ Gentle! Be gentle! Fuck—omg!” Your moan against Okuyasu’s inner thigh,the toll of Josuke’s rough treatment becoming more obvious.

“C’mon baby,don’t ignore me! I need you…” Okuyasu whines. He nudges your mouth to his once more and this time you’re ready for it. You curl your tongue around the expanse of his shaft. You set a constant motion,bobbing your head halfway down his cock and jerking off what you can’t fit in your mouth.

Josuke seems to like the pace you’ve set and gyrates his hips into you each time you pull away from Okuyasu’s dick. In and out,in and out,that’s all you can think—feel about. It’s so euphoric,feels so new. Each time Okuyasu’s thick cock burns the back of your throat,Josuke’s cock deliciously drags against your clamping walls.

The man behind you has a death grip onto the fat of you wealthy hips. “Fuck,I’m gonna cum in this pussy! Gonna claim this pussy as mine! Shit!” His labored breath quickens the deeper and deeper he goes into you.

Okuyasu groans and forces your head further down his cock. You gag and grip the sheets as your back of your throat is constantly touched by his oozing tip. It’s too much! It’s too much to have them both focusing you on you at the same time.

You try to pull away to express the intense overstimulation you’re facing but a rough hand keeps you still. But what really sends you over the edge is when you feel two fingers reaching over you and circling your clit. “Mmhm! You’re so good,baby! Taking me so well!” Okuyasu compliments.

Josuke groans and mutter babbles of praises. It’s a mantra of noises,diluting the idea of time for you. You’re not sure if it’s been hours,minutes or mere seconds.

But still you find yourself so close to the brink of sweet paradise. “Such. A. Perfect. Fucking.Cunt.” Each word is emphasized with a balls deep thrust. You moan on Okuyasu’s cock,gripping the sheets underneath you.

You’re so close,so close! You could feel your orgasm creeping up on you! “Mmmf!” A shocked whimper is muffled by white hot liquid overflowing in your mouth. You don’t even have to process it before Josuke tightens his grip on you and mounts you like a animal in rut.

“Shit m’ gonna cum in ya! Want ya cunt to take every single drop!” He groans and leans against you,punching your cervix with the head of his fat cock. That’s when you can’t hold it anymore and you slump forward,finally letting go of Okuyasu’s member from your oral hold.

Josuke fucks you throughout your orgasm,every single thrust paired with filthy words. Finally at his last thrust his hips still as he releases a huge load into you. He huffs and huffs against your back,Okuyasu mimicking his actions as well.

And you can barely keep your eyes open—the vision offered to you being slowly whisked away. From then your whole surroundings disappear and everything doesn’t exist anymore…

Not even the fact that Morioh’s killers made you theirs…

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! So are comments!<3

[cherubharrington]

popstar!reader x ex boyfriend!rafe where she goes on her first tour and hes in the crowd!? (i dont mind where you take this)

- 🎀🥰

Aaaa!! I’m so glad you asked, this is my favorite topic. Lowkey was writing something like this already but this will just be a different version to it. Sorry this took so long, I had a lot going on. I work a lot so it’s hard for me to make time sometimes. Plus I didn’t know what direction to take this. So sorry if it’s butt cheeks. Also I’m using Sabrina’s music cause I love her 🤭 another note, this doesn’t follow the description I made for girly!popstar reader because this came first. So this is yours anon.

Border: @chilumitos

The anticipation was turning your stomach inside out. You were in your fifth city and should have been accustomed to touring by now. But still, this was different. You were back in Kildare, the fresh ocean air hitting your face, as you stared out into the crowd. You were hidden behind curtains. The nerves were rushing through you.

“It’s been a while, huh?”Mike,one of the boys who danced with you asked, you simply nodded your head. It’d been too long actually. You’d made sure that you played in your hometown. Hoping that it would be enough for one blue eyed boy to come out and see you. But you weren’t sure, the music you made didn’t seem like something he would be into.

“Too long.”

This tour so far was taking a lot out of you. You hadn’t anticipated how much of a demand you became. You’d sold out almost every show that you had listed. It was crazy and the magnitude of it, still couldn’t conclude in your brain.

“Congratulations girl. Seems like you brought out a big crowd. You must have been popular.”

Which was further than the truth, but you laughed at his joke anyway.

“You go up in five!” Ricky, one of the tour managers says. “Get into position people!”

“You ready?”

You nodded, the crowd is loud, unexpectedly. You hadn’t known how many people were going to be here. Your heart was racing, but this was your favorite part.

You waited until it was your cue…

Wheezie had been persistent. She’d been there since the beginning of your journey; quite literally. So she had wanted to come out to one of your shows. She’d asked Ward and Rose, they shared worried glances over at Rafe.

“It’s fine.. it’s not like you’re asking me to go.” Rafe says, but Wheezie has a look on her face that says otherwise.

“Why? She’s my ex girlfriend. That’s weird.” Rafe said but deep down he knew he wanted to go. His heart still beat for you, he just didn’t want to admit to that. He would look soft and he hated looking soft.

“I still have hope for the two of you.” Wheeze admits. Rafe rolls eyes but his heart flutters.

“Hope is for suckers.”

She managed to make him come to your show. A big grin on her face, Sarah managed to weasel her way into seeing you as well. The Cameron siblings never got along well. Wheezie getting along separately which each of them. But somehow you managed to bring them all together.

“Introducing.. the one and only.. Y/N L/N.” You ran out on stage, a cute little smile on your face. Rafes heart leaped as he saw you. He couldn’t believe he was seeing you living your dream.

“Oh I leave quite an impression..”

Your eyes spotted Rafe, halfway through the song. Your heart raced, you hadn’t expected this to happen. Never believed in a million years, you would see those bright blue eyes again. You noticed Wheezie and Sarah in the crowd with him. Your heart swelled even more.

The song finishes, your heart racing as you run of to the other side of the stage. You felt awkwardness trying to built a home in you. But you shook it off with a head shake. The next song was one that you made about him. When you were angry and you weren’t sure how he’d take it.

“I won’t give a fuck about you.”

The song began and you had to start singing once more. You were getting the audience pumped up and you could spot Wheezie and Sarah dancing. Rafe had his arms crossed, his jaw ticking. Great.

“I won’t give a fuck about you!” You sang into the mic then turning it to the crowd. They repeated the words as you did so. You spot Sarah singing it into Rafes face and he rolls his eyes. A giggle you can’t hear over the crowd escapes her lips. Wheezie is smiling up at you and you smile back.

“My cute ass bye bye!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you danced along to your music. Thankfully, it looked like it was apart of the show.—What were the odds, Rafe was here, Wheezie and Sarah made sense. But you don’t know how they managed to drag Rafe along with them. You continue on anyway, you had a show to put on. And you were surprised how amp up everyone was. How many of them knew the lyrics to your song.

This felt so surreal, like you couldn’t believe people here still kept up to date with you.

Rafe had always known you were someone meant for a life bigger than you. So this was no surprise, it stung to know that he was inches away from you. But unable to hold you, kiss you, to be with you. You were finally at your final three songs.

He could tell Wheezie and Sarah were having fun. He hated that he was the sore thumb in the situation. His arms were crossed, not because he didn’t want to be here. But because this wasn’t how he expected things to have gone between the two of you. Things had fallen apart so badly and he didn’t think it was irreversible. He had let things hang in the air like it didn’t matter. When it did.

“You know she’s here for a couple of more days until she leaves again..” Sarah says, her eyes still on you, Rafe slowly turns to her.

“How do you know that?”

Sarah only smiles looking up at him.

You had stopped by one of the local coffee shops the next day, tired from night 1 out of the three shows you were going to do at Kildare. You tapped your fingers gently on the table, your eyes staring at the door. Waiting for someone…

Rafe stepped through the threshold, his eyes immediately going to you. Maybe, sometimes relationships can be rekindled.

“Hi…

[gimmeyourlovepls]

Trapped

paring: earth 42! miles morales x reader

warning: cheating, gaslighting, basically not a cute fic

summary: you find out miles is cheating on you, and with a heavy heart, decide to leave him, but he's not letting you go.

a/n: hey! sorry this is the first thing im contributing to this fandom, i have a really long story in my drafts that im still working onnnnn this piece of work is inspired by a fic i either saw on here or ao3, pls tell me if u find it so i can credit them ;-;

Cariño = Honey

¿Entiendo? = Got it?

"Thanks for coming, have a nice day!" The cahier said as you walked out of a bakery with a box full of cupcakes, along with some chocolates and other snacks you bought earlier. You were basically bouncing with joy, a massive grin present on your face.

Today was you and Miles' 2 year anniversary, and although there had been a couple of bumps on the way, you were happy that both of you were still together. You looked at your phone to check the time and saw that Miles texted you back.

Mi amor <3

You: happy anniversary!

You: i have a surprise for you but its not ready yet

You: I'll text you when its done then you can come over <3

Mi amor <3: aight see you soon princessa

Giggling, you walked over to Miles' apartment building and walked through the hallway towards his room, already searching through your pocket for the extra key he gave you in your bag. As soon as you found it, you opened the door as quiet as you possible could, which was hard as hell with all the stuff you were holding.

You pushed the door open with your feet and walked slowly, and it seemed like Miles didn't hear, you, because you heard no footsteps coming for you. Putting your stuff down on a couch, you walked around trying to find him.

As you neared his room, you started to hear noises that sounded like Miles and something else, you couldn't really tell. You still wanted to surprise him through, so you slowly pulled open the door.

"Miles please..." A girl who had never seen before was on YOUR man's lap, pressing kisses on his face and slightly grinding against him. "Calm down, cariño, I'll take good care of you soon," he said as he held that girl's hips and grinded her hips down with a groan.

You didn't even realize you were crying until you brought your hands over your mouth. You slowly walked backwards and slammed his door, knowing he would be able to tell he got caught, grabbing all your stuff, leaving his extra key that he gave you on a table and running.

Your legs carried you all the way home, though it was a far distance. You couldn't even feel the burn with how sad you were. As soon as you got to your house, you locked all the windows and doors, knowing Miles would try and get in. You just wanted to lay in bed and cry, but you knew you had one more thing to do.

Mi amor <3

You: dont fucking text me anymore, be happy with that girl.

You: by the way, happy anniversary :)

================================================

Scrolling on your phone, feeling sorry for yourself, and eating the snacks meant for you and your now ex was not how you thought your night would go, but the occasional funny video made up for it. You changed out of your nice outfit and wore your most comfortable pajamas (apart from Miles' shirts), stuffing chips into your mouth when you heard banging on your window. Your mom was home and asleep, but she wasn't that heavy of a sleeper, so you went to your window and pulled back the curtains.

"Ugh," you groaned as you saw who was standing behind the glass-pane. "I'm gonna keep knocking if you don't let me in." His voice was muffled, but you understood enough to unlock and open the window for him.

"Hey look-" He started, but you were NOT listening to his BS. "No Miles, you look. I have dealt with you for the past TWO years. Every time you have stared, flirted, or even made out with another girl, I have ignored it and forgiven you. I have NEVER cheated on you, I have even ignored all my male friends for you because you get so jealous. I'm tired Miles, and I can't with you. Please leave."

"Cariño-" Miles pleaded with you. "Don't call me that. That's what you called that girl you were smooching earlier. Go back to her and never talk to me again." You started pushing him towards the window, desperate for him to leave before you either started crying or beating the crap out of him.

"No, we aren't doing this shit." He pushed you backward until your back was against the bedroom door. "Miles, don't-" Your insults dissolved into air as he started to kiss you, the way he did at the beginning of your relationship, when you thought he still loved you. "I ain't leaving you, and there is no way your leaving me, ¿entiendo?"

You wanted to say no, but your heart still longed for him desperately, so you melted into his touch. He noticed your response and pulled back to pull you into a passionate kiss.

It didn't matter what you did, you were trapped, and Miles certainy wasn't letting go.

hey yall i was feeling silly and decided to writeeeeee hope u at least semi enjoyed it and that u have a good day/night :))))

(also if ur waiting for a part two, dont hold your breath, im literally having the worst writers block ever and can not. HOWEVER, if you have requests, please send them in so i can write thank youuuuuuuuu!)