#I need them more than I need air to breathe

[worldlxvlys]

hey babyyy i have an actual real req this time cause im too lazy to write it and i know you’ll eat it up (plus it fits dwb chris a lot)

alr, chris goes away on a trip to visit family or wtv and when he gets back reader surprises him with a freshly healed tongue piercing. do with that what u will

i love u bestieee

brownies

dealer! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, p in v, cream pie, oral fixation, oral (male receiving), drug use (edibles), cursing

a/n: I LOVE YOU @bernardenjoyer <333

CHRIS’ POV

when i opened her front door, i was immediately met with the smell of something sweet.

the scent of chocolate hung in the air, the warm air of her apartment making it feel inviting. there was music playing in the background, being overpowered by the sound of her screaming out the lyrics.

when i rounded the corner, i was met with the source of the singing. she wore a t-shirt of mine, it was long enough to just cover her ass.

she was wiping down the counter, though she was doing more dancing than cleaning. she was barely able to get the words out, her movements leaving her out of breath.

when she stopped dancing, she leaned on the counter in front of her to steady her breathing.

i quietly made my way up to her, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind. she jumped slightly at the touch, relaxing into my hold when she realized it was me.

“what are you making?” i asked, leaving a kiss to her cheek.

i felt her smile grow wider against my lips, “special brownies” she answered.

“special? what’s so special about them?” i asked as she craned her neck to look at me.

“you’ll see” she whispered, before closing the gap between us.

she had a small bit of batter on her lips, which i eagerly collected on my tongue with a swipe.

she took that as a cue to allow my tongue entrance into her mouth, which i graciously took.

as my tongue skimmed along the surface of hers, i felt something cool and hard rub against mine. i removed my lips from hers at the feeling, watching as a shy smile grew on them.

she stuck her tongue out, showing off the small jewelry that laid embedded in it.

“you- you got…” i was barely able to finish my question, my brain going wild with images of her tongue in different places.

“yup, you like it?” she asked, taking in my bewildered expression.

“what do you think?” i asked as i turned her body to face mine, pushing my lips back onto hers.

she let out a quiet moan into my mouth, her hand cupping my jaw as the other tugged on my hair.

my own hands found her waist, pushing it into the counter behind her while she began to place kisses down my neck.

“missed you so much, baby” she whispered into my skin.

before i could say anything back, i was cut off by the ringing of her kitchen timer.

i kept a firm grip on her waist, while she licked a stripe up my neck and pressed a kiss to my jaw.

i let out a moan at the feeling of her piercing dragging against the skin.

“i gotta get that, chris” she whispered against me, grabbing my hands. she placed a kiss to each of them before moving to the oven.

she grabbed an oven mitt and bent over to grab the brownies, giving me a perfect view of her lacy panties that were previously hidden under her shirt.

just as quickly as she had bent over, she stood upright again. she placed the baking pan on top of the stove, throwing the mitt onto the counter beside her.

now that the brownies were fully baked, the smell of the chocolate grew stronger. i went to reach for one, only to have my hand smacked away.

“chris, they need to cool” she spoke, “plus, they’re not even cut yet” she pointed out, moving the pan farther away from me.

“ok, then i’ll cut them” i spoke, reaching for a knife.

she let out a quick sigh before cutting me a piece and putting it on a plate.

“they’re your favorite” she spoke as she handed me the plate, a knowing grin grew on my face at that.

“edibles?” i asked, causing her to nod excitedly. she cut herself a piece of her own, quick to put it on a plate before burning her fingers.

we both ate our brownies, catching each other up on our day and talking about whatever came to our minds.

suddenly, she pulled me into a tight hug, whispering sweet words into my ear.

“missed you so fucking much” she spoke before pressing a kiss to the tip of my ear.

“missed talking to you face-to-face like this” she said as she placed her hands on my hips.

“missed kissing you” she spoke against my skin, trailing kisses down my neck. her hands snuck under my shirt, nails dragging across my chest as she moved lower down my body.

her eyes never left mine as she bunched my shirt up to my chest, causing me to take hold of it and pull it off of my body. “want my tongue, baby?” she asked, smiling when i nodded my head feverishly.

she folded the waistband of my sweatpants down, immediately running her tongue along the newly exposed skin.

i let out a groan at her teasing, moving my hands to tug my sweatpants down. “eager much?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at me.

she guided me over to a chair, lightly pushing my shoulders to sit down. instead of answering her previous question, i lifted my hips, pulling down my boxers and throwing them to the side.

i watched as a string of spit fell from her mouth onto my dick, making me squirm slightly as it rolled down my length.

she gave my tip a kitten lick, eliciting a groan from me as i gripped the sides of my seat.

i could tell the weed was starting to kick in, as her every touch seemed to drive me crazy.

she swirled her tongue around my tip, the coolness of her jewelry causing my hips to buck up. she held my hips down as she continued to tease my tip.

her droopy, red eyes met mine as she moaned around me, making my head fall back.

she ran her tongue along the underside of my dick, causing my hand to shoot out to her arm to hold onto.

“p-please, don’t tease baby. too sensitive” i mumbled out, fingers digging into her skin.

“but i like watching you get worked up” she chuckled, leaving kisses up and down my length.

spurts of pre-cum began to drip down from my tip, causing her to run her tongue along me sensually.

she looked up at me through her lashes as she moved her tongue as slow as possible, making me whine out.

“p-please baby, need you so badly” i spoke, causing her to tilt her head slightly. she removed her mouth from me altogether, making me screw my eyes shut in frustration.

without warning, she climbed onto my lap. due to my slower reaction time, i wasn’t able to process what was happening until she had sunken down onto me fully.

i let out a groan in surprise, hands shooting to her waist as she began to ride me. “so fucking needy, chris. this what you wanted?” she asked, her words slurring into each other slightly.

“yes, yes, yes” i heaved as my hands slid down to her ass, gripping the skin firmly as she moved on top of me.

she felt impossibly tight around me, her walls clamping down on me harshly. her hard nipples pressed against the fabric of the t-shirt tauntingly.

i reached for the bottom of the shirt before speaking, “can i-” i started.

she seemed to understand what i was asking before i even finished, nodding her head and raising her arms to help me pull it off.

i immediately wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer as i took one of her boobs into my mouth.

one of her hands came up to the back of my head, carding through my hair. her hips moved quickly against mine, never breaking their rhythm.

she pushed my head further into my chest, her head falling back as she became lost in her own euphoric world.

i drew my hand back to slap her ass a few times, finding pleasure in the way that she clenched around me in response with loud cries falling out of her mouth.

when i felt her begin to slow down, i tightened my grip around her, thrusting up into her. her loud moans bounced off of the kitchen walls, along with the wet squelches of my dick plunging in and out of her.

“chris, i’m so close” she choked out, nails digging into my back as she clung onto me. i brought a hand down to rub her clit, causing her legs to begin to shake around me.

“i got you, let go for me” i spoke right before she released all over me. she let out soft moans into my neck, continuing to grind down on me through her high.

“fuck, c’mon chris. i know you’re close, give it to me baby” she spoke between moans, leaving light kisses against my neck.

i let out a long moan as i held her down against me, filling her up with my seed. she shuddered against me at the feeling, nuzzling her nose into the crook of my neck as we both tried to catch our breath.

i rubbed her back gently, my chin resting on her shoulder as i held her close. i felt her back rise and fall, watching her breathing begin to slow.

“alright, let’s get you cleaned up before you fall asleep on me” i spoke, only to be met with the sound of soft snores.

too late.

masterlist

dealer chris masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nickgetsmewetter @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[risuola]

▶ BOUNDARIES — the day when Suguru entered the shower with you.

contents: college!au, roommates — 1,3k words

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

“Don’t freak out.”

You blame it on the water. Hot, steamy and falling right onto your head, your reaching up face and the hum of it filling your ears. A monotone murmur of drops pitter-pattering and bouncing off your exposed skin — it made you disconnect. A moment of relaxation, and it worked wonders to your body, your tensed up muscles, your clattered thoughts. It quieted you down, made your breath slower, soothed the hectic beat of your heart — effect of an unpleasant confrontation with your classmate in the morning. A girl upset and nervous, jealous and heated, took it all out on you and you couldn’t do nothing but take it. Wasn’t the first time, certainly not the last as well and over the years you grew to tolerate this sort of events as they were inevitable, they came along the very close friendship you shared with your boys. It’s fine, you always tell them and it is, in fact, fine, but the attack you endured just two hours before was oddly, unnecessarily personal and it stung.

You took it under the shower, making use of the empty apartment — both Satoru and Suguru being out for classes and practice — and just enjoying the sizzling hot water warming your skin. It was comforting, meditative almost, and nearly as soothing as a cuddle session. It felt good. So very good that when the environment changed suddenly, your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Suguru?” Your head snapped to the side, your entire body flinched in shock as the matted glass of the shower doors moved and you caught a frame twice your size entering the tight area of the stall. The sight of your roommate somewhat calmed you down. “What is happening?”

“I’m sorry sweets, I really am, but I called you, knocked, but you didn’t hear and I really need to wash up quick and run,” your friend explained, his tone more frantic than you’re used to and for few moments you watched him, frozen. He was already lathering shower gel over his body. Intense scent of skincare filled in the steamy air with a mixture of fresh seagrass and coconut, and soon you snapped out of the haze.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear,” you said dumbly, still very much confused, confirming his words and shifting a little closer to the wall, making more space for him.

It was awkward — it should be — but somehow, you felt at ease with him there. It was the very first time you saw him fully naked, and vice versa, but Suguru was a safe space and besides a heat that creeped right up your cheeks, that surely got lost in the flush you already had from the hot stream of water, you weren’t too worried. Tearing your eyes off his muscular, strong built — a sculpture carved out of the finest marble — proved itself to be the most difficult as you handed him the showerhead.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he said, already washing off the fluff and bubbles of his shower gel. “They moved the lecture for earlier, I had to cut my training short and I just couldn’t go all sweaty. I’m really sorry sweets, I’ll apologize properly later, okay?”

“It’s all fine. Good luck, Sug,” you offered him a soft smile and took the sprayer back as the man moved to exit. Before he left completely, and despite the rush he was in, he managed to spare a second to press a tender kiss to your temple.

It wouldn’t be Suguru if he didn’t make time to smother you with love.

“You’re gorgeous by the way. See ya later!” And he was gone, just like that, leaving you flushed and so very confused, in a cloud of heated condensation and empty cage of tiles.

* * *

Few hours passed until the lonely, quiet apartment filled up with the playful banter that seems to never end whenever your roommates are together — which is a lot. You were already in bed, nuzzled against the pillows and wrapped in blankets. Tired. You were so tired after that day, the few classes you had to attend to after the shower sucked the life out of you. It piled up — the tension between you and your classmate, the unannounced test from one of the subjects you don’t particularly like nor study for, the rain that caught you in the middle of your relatively short way home from the college and the absurdly microscopic amount of cheese in the absurdly overpriced cheese sandwich you bought in a rush. Should’ve taken the ham.

But the day was soon over and it’s a matter of minutes now until you’ll be able to truly rest in a safe and moderately suffocating embrace of long limbs and warm bodies. The sleeping dilemma that at first seemed to be the greatest worry about the apartment, now was your favorite aspect of it — you often find yourself longing for the late night hours, especially on days like this one. You like the everlasting amount of heat that your friends produced and even though you were often trapped or squished, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey,” a soft, honey-like tone reached your ears and forced you to lift up the heavy eyelids. You smiled seeing Suguru’s gorgeous features and feeling his fingers along your cheekbone. “Are you angry at me?”

“Huh? Why?” You asked, moving towards him, lifting your head just slightly to study him more. He looked troubled, worried and you couldn’t place it. What was the reason?

“For the shower situation from earlier?”

“Oh… no, god, absolutely not,” you shook your head and dropped the weight of it back onto the pillowy clouds. “I don’t care if you see me naked, don’t worry about it.”

“Either way, I bought you the chocolate you like so much.”

Chocolate.

“The diabetic bomb?”

“Yeah, that one,” the boy smiled and showed you the gift. A bar of the most divine chocolate you’ve ever eaten — expensive too — filled with sinfully decadent, luscious coconut mousse and little pieces of gooey caramel chunks. A diabetic bomb, as Suguru always mocks it, because in a scale from zero to ten, its sweetness is easily a sixteen.

Suguru ripped the package open and broke off a piece, putting it into your waiting mouth and you moaned. It was sublime, it was posh and sensual. It could easily be an aphrodisiac. A heaven, melting slowly on your tongue, spreading its glory across your very soul and you melted with it. It felt like a sin, it felt wrong and so, so right.

“You didn’t need to buy me anything, Sug,” you spoke finally, once your senses came back from the trip of pure, primal pleasure. “But I do appreciate it even though I should be the one to apologize. I didn’t hear you.”

“You know that I wouldn’t push your boundaries like that if it wasn’t so very urgent.”

“I know and also, I told you already, I don’t care about any of you seeing me naked,” you said it again, reaching your hand to brush a piece of his bangs away from his eyes. He smiled and for a moment his eyes drifted away and you kind of knew what to expect.

“Who’s naked?” Satoru’s cheerfully cocky voice cut through the gentle atmosphere like a lovable razor and you felt the bed yielding underneath his weight as he climbed on and dropped right behind you. His body pressed tightly to your backside, his arm wrapped securely around your blanket-wrapped form and he pulled you towards himself, leaning his head over your shoulder and smothering your cheek with kisses. Affectionate. Suffocating. “I heard our roomie had a bad day, huh?”

“It’s fine now,” you chuckled, reaching up and ruffling his white, short hair, messing it up even more than it already was.

“Our poor little mochi, it’s alright now,” he cooed, teasingly sweet and then, in his very usual behavior, he tried to bite your cheek but you were quicker, stuffing his open mouth with a piece of chocolate. Suguru managed to roll his eyes and left you unattended with a bar of divine candy and your gluttonous friend. “Oh my god that is good.”

Safe to say, the chocolate didn’t stand a chance against you and Satoru.

taglist: @kibananya, @r0ckst4rjk, @rixo-19, @soraya-daydreams, @hyun0200, @ilykii, @roscpctals99, @mushkasstuff, @siimp4youu, @juicedcherry, @themoreeviltwin, @stevenknightmarc, @ms5m1th

[reminiscingtonight]

baking kitchen mess (aitana bonmatí)

Recipe For Relaxing (Aitana Bonmatí x Reader)

A/N: Barca you're massive 💪

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s been a long day.

First, your ever lovely girlfriend drank what was left of the coffee and left for an early training without even telling you.

Then your alarm clock seemingly forgot how to do its job, leaving you, still barely awake with no caffeine in sight, to scramble to make it to work on time.

The meeting you slipped into was already in motion, multiple eyes zeroing in on you as you tried to sneak in undetected. So with a healthy dose of tiredness and shame following you to your classroom, you really hoped that your rambunctious lot of third graders would magically surprise you with manners fit for royalty.

It really shouldn’t have irked you as much as it did when all twenty-five of them seemed to catch the wiggle-bug. Nobody was able to sit for more than a couple minutes without jumping or shouting what was on their minds.

By the time the clock signaled the end of the school day you were more than ready to rip out your hair. As politely as you could you wished all of your students goodbye, waving at their grinning faces as their parents herded them away.

Any hope you had at relaxing was dashed when you noticed the cars lining the street all the way up to your driveway.

Sighing, you drove a bit further away before parking on the curb, knowing better than to expect the girls to leave you a clear spot to park in your own driveway.

Mumbling under your breath you stepped over the shoes discarded carelessly by the door. Although you could hear laughter wafting from the living room, you took the side door to get a well needed beer from the fridge. As much as you loved Aitana and all twenty of her clubmates, you needed something to help rewind before even entertaining the idea of playing host.

The second your foot crosses the doorway leading into your kitchen however, you freeze. Your fingers tighten against the doorframe as you take in the sight in front of you.

Something was baking in the oven, but dirty bowls littered your counters, as did half-used ingredients. Flour covered almost every surface, even tracking throughout the ground. 

Clearly the girls had never heard of leaving things as they found it. 

You shut your eyes, jaw clenching so hard that you know your dentist will be giving you an earful when you see her next.

“Aitana Bonmatí Conca, what the hell did you do to my kitchen?!”

The chattering ceases instantly. 

Angrily turning around, you stomp into the living room to give the girls a piece of your mind.

You’re met with wide guilty eyes, the footballers looking scolded before you even started. 

“Hola bebé, you’re home early.” Aitana gives you a timid grin but you’re not amused.

Your nose flares angrily as you take another step forward. Everyone flinches when you shove a finger into Aitana’s chest. “Clean up my kitchen. Now.”

The air is silent as no one dares to move.

You quirk an eyebrow, tilting your head to make eye contact with the rest of the team. “Now! Pronto! Move your asses girls! I wanted it spotless yesterday!”

It’s like a hurricane storming when everyone scrambles up all at once. Quiet apologies are thrown your way as they pass by, everyone eager to escape your anger.

Aitana tries to sneak away with her teammates but your hand clamps down on her arm before she can even take a step.

“I love you?” she tries, deflating when she sees your unamused look.

“Aitana, babe, love of my life, I love you but you’re the bane of my existence. I’m exhausted and would love it if you could reign in the girls and not make messes for me to clean up.”

A look of determination crosses her face as Aitana nods quickly. “I will do a better job of cleaning up.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, relaxing a bit when Aitana timidly leans forward to give your forehead a soft kiss.

Your girlfriend takes it as a win when she wraps her arms around you and you instantly sink into her hold. The exhaustion from your day seemingly catches up to you as you sway dangerously, ready to go to bed despite it still being early. 

Sighing, you rub at your eyes before gently pushing Aitana off of you. “Thank you for putting up with me. ‘M sorry for yelling.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Is there anything I could do for you?”

Humming, you give her a kiss when she leans forward for one.

“Could you go get me a beer and tell the rest of the girls that they don’t have to hide in the kitchen from me?”

“I--” Aitana winces. “I think we’re out.”

When Ingrid pokes her head out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, selected by the bunch as the least likely to get her head bitten off by you, she’s met with the sight of you sitting on the couch, feet thrown up on the table as you mindlessly flip through the TV.

You hold up a stack of papers towards the Norwegian. 

“Got a new team bonding activity for you heathens.”

Aitana sighs when she catches sight of the rest of her teammates with each of their own personalized shopping lists at the store down the street. 

“She got you guys too?”

[rainerioun]

𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖣𝖮𝖤𝖲 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖥𝖴𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖤 𝖲𝖯𝖮𝖴𝖲𝖤 𝖫𝖮𝖮𝖪 𝖫𝖨𝖪𝖤? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hi! Apologies for being a bit inactive lately. Been tied up with stuff, but I'm back with a reading for you all! Today, we'll delve into what your future partner could look like. Remember, just take whatever resonates with you. This reading is more so about what sticks out to you when reading.

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST

PILE ONE

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Virgo.

Your future partner likely has an oval face shape with a more narrow jawline and chin, contrasted by prominent cheekbones. They're likely to have a slender physique, though proportionate in any case.

Tarot. — Six of Swords.

They give off a moody or unassuming vibe, seeming as though they don't express much. Yet, they're quite proactive in changing their appearance, whether it's their style, hair, or even their athleticism. However, they'll always maintain that aloof, 'leave me out of it' demeanor.

Additional. Hermit — Light : Seeks solitude to focus intently on inner life. Serves personal creativity. Shadow : Withdraws from society out of fear or negative judgements of others. Refusing to help those in need.  Pioneer — Light : Passion for doing and creating what has not been done before. Shadow : Compulsive need to keep moving on.

As I mentioned earlier, they are constantly undergoing physical changes in some way. They have an introverted and withdrawn aura. They could let their hair grow out and become a bit scruffy before impulsively cutting it off. They maintain a rather deadpan expression when simply existing in their own world. The image of Edward Cullen specifically came to mind when pulling the cards.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. High Cheekbones, Heart Shaped Face, Pale Skin, Brown Eyes, Curly Hair, Cat Beauty, Honey Eyes, Thin Eyebrows.

Yes, very vampire allure-esque indeed. Their eyes could appear normally brown but take on a honey-like glow under certain lighting. Their eyes are quite striking, considering they have feline type features. Although hair color didn't come up during the reading, I pictured them with dark hair that complements their skin tone.

Apocalypse : Cigarettes After Sex.

PILE TWO

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Leo.

Of course, they possesses striking hair like a lion's mane—thick, unruly, perhaps even a bit frizzy, something that immediately catches one's eye, possibly long in length. Their eyes are equally intense, matching their strong jawline. They exude a fierce appearance that naturally draws attention, whether they seek it or not.

Tarot. — Four of Wands [Reversed].

Your future spouse might have a more mature-looking face compared to yours or for their age. They appear quite stressed, with heavy eyes and noticeable wrinkles, particularly around their eyes, such as crow's feet and frown lines.

This aspect also reflects in their demeanor. They might carry an air of disappointment, even if they don't necessarily feel that way—it's just a testament to what they've been through. They tend to go for neutrals in their clothing choices, not leaning towards vibrant styles. Despite appearing restless, they naturally possess an attractive charm.

Additional. Mystic — Light : Revels in intimate union with the Divine. Shadow : Delusional rapport with the Divine. 

They have a divine look to their appearance, regardless of their modest and simple attire or styling. There's a hint of mystique about them, but I feel it leans more towards a deity-like appearance rather than a witchy vibe. I imagine your future partner resembling a god/goddess, genuinely embodying timeless beauty.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Below Average Height, Legs, Medium-Length Hair, Prominent Mouth, Broad Nose, Copper hair, Medium Skin.

Your future spouse has a complexion you'd deem as medium-toned. When it comes to their hair, I envision it falling somewhere between medium to long length. Though a single color came out, you could interpret it as having hints of orange or red tones instead. Their mouth is defined by sharp, pointed features, while their nose possesses a broad, perhaps even slightly downturned shape.

Bernadette : IAMX. | Lucky Drive : Sarah Kinsley. | Who Is She? : I Monster. [ I think these songs perfectly describe their vibe. ]

PILE THREE

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Aries.

Your future spouse has distinct/sharp, broad features with thick eyebrows framing their face. Freckles, beauty marks, or subtle scars might adorn their face, too. Their shoulders are broad and sturdy. They could be tinged with red in some way. It could be in their complexion with rosy cheeks, hair, eyes, or they just wear a lot of red. Despite a muscular build, they still have curves, whether it's slim hips and wider thighs or a smaller waist and broader hips.

Tarot. — Three of Wands [Reversed].

It seems they may have a serious RBF, often appearing quite frustrated or impatient. There's a strong and confident demeanor about them. When envisioning their build or expression, I see Rhea Ripley 100%.

Additional. Hero/Heroine — Light : Passion for a journey of personal empowerment. Shadow : Escapism and a false sense of heroism. 

When we typically imagine heroes, we picture them as polished and composed. However, behind the curtain, they bear the marks of their struggles, with visible signs of stress etched into their body. Your future partner will be this way. Peel back their layers, and you'll uncover scars, calluses, and an overall roughness.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Gray Eyes, Hawk Nose, Thick Nose, Scars, Thighs, Neutral Tone, Square Shaped Face, Hands.

What did I say about scars? It popped up three times at this point. Their skin tone has a neutral undertone, not warm or cool. Their nose is large and hooked. And those gray eyes? Unwavering. You could simply like their thighs and hands specifically, or there's something significant about them.

Hey Sexy Lady : Shaggy. | Blood Sweat & Tears : BTS.

PILE FOUR

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Pisces.

Your future spouse has round, soft lips, with dewy skin and eyes shining with tenderness. They have a dreamy aura, perhaps lost in thought at times. Their hair may tend towards the finer side. I envision them as 'dainty' and clumsy.

Tarot. — Four of Wands [Reversed]. | The Star.

The Star card suits them perfectly. They radiate both warmth and serenity, their presence quite calming. This reflects in their appearance, with a lively step and a clear sense of purpose in all they do. They have a whimsical charm, very cute!

Additional. Child : Orphan — Light : Independence based on learning to go at it alone. Conquering fear of surviving. Shadow : Feelings of abandonment that stifle maturation. Seeking inappropriate surrogate families.

In terms of aesthetic, your future spouse has a more colorful style. They appear youthful without seeming childish, dressing without fear and staying true to themselves, free from judgment.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Alternative, Sparse Eyebrows, Long Eyelashes, Waist, Slim, Small Eyes, Green Eyes, Bald, Masculine.

This aligns with what I was getting at. They definitely have an alternative style. Although the energy initially felt 'feminine,' masculine came out. So, I believe this person is deeply connected to both aspects. They might also identify as queer. And while they could actually be bald, I heard in it a joking tone, given their naturally thin hair.

The Shining : The Neighbourhood. | Confidence : Ocean Alley.

PILE FIVE

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Capricorn.

Your future spouse is somewhat lanky but has hidden strength, almost described as lithe. They carry an almost stern and steady gaze, radiating seriousness and maturity. Their bone structure is striking, too. Unlike typical Capricorns, they move with a deliberate slowness, calculated in their actions. They are an alluring person. — I forgot to add that they have nice teeth!

Tarot. — Knight of Pentacles [Reversed].

I picture your future spouse as having a disheveled and unkempt appearance, but in a somehow intentional and controllable manner—it's a bit hard to put into words. Think of someone like Hozier in terms of what I mean. They might give off a slightly lazy energy, dressing in loose-fitting clothes. I don't think they enjoy changing their appearance much and prefer to stick to the same style. I imagine they lean towards neutral or dark colors, something easy on the eyes.

Additional. Messiah — Light : Serving humanity with humility. Shadow : Exaggerated belief that you are the only means through which a cause can succeed. 

This person is confident, fully aware of their own charm. I envision them with darker skin and dark hair. If you're attracted to men, I imagine them having some form of facial hair, perhaps a beard.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Eye Bags, Light Freckles, Prominent Nose, Full Lips, Short Hair, Dark Skin, Olive Skin, Monotone Voice, Puppy-Dog Eyes, Brown Hair.

I think your future spouse aims for that bad boy vibe but doesn't quite nail it. They naturally give off that vibe, but they try a bit too hard to make it obvious. Perhaps they have freckles that become more visible in the summer or are barely noticeable. They aren't very expressive with their voice, but their eyes more than compensate for it, being a bit pouty, too. As for their hair, while I initially pictured it as long, it likely varies based on personal preference since short hair came out. Generally, they have a darker appearance overall.

Beautiful Is Boring : BONES UK. | Judas : Lady Gaga. | Too Sweet : Hozier.

PILE SIX

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Sagittarius.

Your future spouse has a wider face and a welcoming, cheerful demeanor. I see them with a cute button nose, sparkling eyes, and a pretty smile. They are bubbly and curious, with chubby cheeks and a curvier frame. Their expression reminds me of Armin Arlert. AHHH, I LOVE ARMIN! I HAD TO BRING HIM UP. T-T

Tarot. — Ace of swords [Reversed].

This person tends to get easily distracted, often appearing spaced out. Their appearance mirrors their emotions, reflecting whatever they're feeling that day. They're not one to settle on a particular style, constantly changing their look.

Additional. Shape-Shifter — Light : Skill at navigating through different levels of consciousness. Ability to see the potential in everything. Shadow : Projecting any image that serves your personal agenda in the moment. 

Yeah, they seem like a real shape-shifter. Always evolving, whether it's their physical appearance or their mindset. One day they might be all about frills and pastels, and the next they're wearing dark, sleek attire.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Hazel Eyes, Button Nose, Tattoos, Neutral Tone, Fingers, Freckles, Hips, Round Shaped Face, Slim Nose.

It's kind of spooky how tarot readings can be so consistently on point with their messages. Hazel eyes were mentioned, but even if not, they have lighter eyes. They might have tattoos, but I'm not sure of what. You might find yourself drawn to their fingers or hips. I envision them as more heavy-set.

Primadonna : MARINA. | Paris, Texas : Lana Del Rey. | Black Friday : Tom Odell.

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned ୨୧ Chapter II

“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.” Songs of Solomon 8:6-7.

As newly appointed Duchess-To-Be, you have much to learn. Etiquette, conduct and eventual motherhood are the pillars you are expected to live by. Because who cares about your choosing?

The Chapel, tended to by a mercurial Priest, is the perfect refuge.

…right?

Pairing: Geto x female reader

A/N: The is dedicated to the artist ( @captainsalsaa ) I mean look at our fallen Angel. His tears. His frustration. Dear GOD.

To the artist: I stared at your piece, then heard a specific song on my writing playlist then wrote the entire last scene in one sitting. To date, it’s my favorite scene in my author’s portfolio. I hope I did our fallen Angel justice. Thank you for creating this 🤍

Previous | Next

CHAPTER II: Hello, Father.

“Awake early, little dove.” 

Warm hands caress your shoulders. A welcome contrast to the chilly nautical dawn. The sun still has a ways to go, but songbirds have begun their wake up call. 

“As are you, Arella.” 

Your eyes float to your favorite maiden standing above you. No more than a handful of years older, but with a heart for you as if she raised you from birth. 

“It’s my duty to tend to you, is it not?” 

Soft laughter harmonizes with the nightingales. A quick kiss on your forehead before her warmth disappears off the balcony —  undoubtedly to go retrieve a treat of some kind. 

She’s not wrong. 

Technically it is her duty. 

But Arella is your blessing. 

Matting and kneading your surroundings to fit your needs. Eager to dampen the growing pains of settling in a new home. 

Constant hellos. 

Permanent smiles.

Not too wide, like a promiscuous woman. But not too tight, like a cold prude. 

Rooms to tour. Hands to shake. Garments to pin and tie and lace around your lungs as if your God-given ribcage was a frivolous extra not needed for life. Not needed to breathe. 

Breathe.

Your lids screw shut. Pulling in as much of the balmy, saltwater breeze gliding up the steep rock face along the overhang. 

Much like he did. 

The Chaplain. 

His hair cascading down his back in the same way poets monologue when inspired. His eyes a mural of what the Gods paint when they want to show off. 

The way earth acquiesces to his touch as if he is the Creator. The birds choose to perform for him every morning. And the ocean exists to bathe him. 

You cannot decide if the sorbet sunsets are created by the Chaplain. Or if the Gods fight over who gets the honor of painting him a new one each evening. 

“Sleep still escapes you, precious girl.” 

It does, but not for the reason she thinks. 

“You worry too much, Arella. I’ll adjust soon.” The tea she brought you is delicious.

The both of you cross back into your quarters. The stagnant, perfumed air suddenly suffocating.

“I would like to go to the chapel garden.” 

A quiet declaration that stills your handmaiden in her tracks. Then a small grin blossoms on her beautiful face. Fussing with your bedding. Wiping away evidence of your sleepless night. 

“For the flowers that bloom, little dove? Or for the God that tends to them?”

The blood in your veins runs subzero. 

“Arella! I am engaged to be marri—“

“Of course you are. But eyesight isn’t a sin.”

Another moment of feigned irritation before you burst into a fit of childish giggles. The both of you no better than school girls, covering your mouths, stifling your laughter. 

“I just wanted to see you smile.” Arella gestures to your extravagant dresser across the room. 

“In the second drawer you can find a casual garment. Come back with at least one hour to prepare for Mass.”

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

A hummingbird chaperones your walk to the church estate. Dulcet hums drown out the rattling heartbeat between your ears. 

This is harmless.

It is not a sin to take in Earth’s natural candy. To appreciate God’s gift to humanity.

In all of his majestic glory. 

Your eyes dart around as if your thoughts are a tangible scroll. Written in ink for the world to see.

Don’t be ridiculous, there’s no one around. 

Just you. Your fluttering companions (both heart and bird). The waking sun. God above and his plants swaying in the gentle gusts of wind. You’re safe in your mind. 

Until he decimates all logical and reasonable train of thought, that is. 

You should be angry. Infuriated. That no one adequately prepared you for seeing the demigod for the first time. Even now, you question whether he’s flesh and blood. 

Maybe an illusion? 

The Lord playing tricks from his throne? 

The mirage before you halts your paces. You can’t help but question your level consciousness. 

Because this must be a dream. 

“Oh, don’t be cruel.” 

Words slip out of your mouth, currently ajar. It’s not your place to chastise the One above, but come on. 

Your eyes taste the Chaplain for a second time and this course is even more decadent than the first. 

There he stands. 

A raven waterfall down his broad, muscular back. Half of it tied away from his face. Olive skin so rich the surrounding plants pale in comparison. Russet brown working pants hang loose around his tapered waist, but snug around his thighs. Various tools hooked in the belt loops. Heavy mahogany work boots match the worn leather gardening gloves fitted to his hands. 

His hands. 

Reaching for thorny vines plaguing his hydrangeas. Even at your distance you could detail each muscle fiber in his arm tense and release with every pull and toss.

Pull and toss.

Pull and toss. 

You would have gotten lost in his rhythmic trance, if it weren’t for the symbol branded in charcoal sprawling his back. The emblem peeks through his thick hair, every now and again. 

A spear? 

No.

A trident. With waves snaking up its stalk along his spine. 

His gravitational pull is overwhelming. Your feet move with more stealth than the King’s Guard.

“Working on the Day of Rest, Father?” Casual, measured. 

“Duchess,” Saliva pools in your mouth. His smile teases your ears before he graces you with it. 

“I have to start being more careful about my clothing.” A playful glint in his eyes. 

“Especially now that I’ve been blessed with a fellow greenskeeper.” 

He is a man of God.

And would never insinuate anything impure. 

But that doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around his words steeped in a baritone potent enough to rumble the ground beneath you.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve sent word that I was coming.” 

“This palace belongs to you, Duchess. You are welcome here at any hour.” His hand captures a vine and tosses it into the pile without his eyes ever leaving yours. 

You are weak.

And greedy. 

The way your gaze drops to his arm. Desperately etching its contours into memory. Seconds, maybe minutes pass before you realize you were gawking. And the Chaplain just let you. 

Head cocked to the side. Soft smile ghosting his full lips. 

“Would you like to finish the tour of your new playground?” 

“Y-yes. Of course, please.” Stumbling over the uneven cobblestone in your voice, you turn away to begin the coordinated stroll. The Priest slides his arms into a linen button up. Lazily fastening two center buttons only. 

He informs you of the work that has already been done, what’s left. Where the soil is richest, where it is the most acidic. How the sun hits certain flowers at each hour of the day.

Brilliant. 

With complete command over God’s bouquet. The sun following him wherever he steps.

“Did you enjoy your swim today, Father?” Both you and the Priest come to a slow stop. One of his angular eyebrows raised.

“I’m dry, Duchess.” He responds with a low, hypnotic chuckle. 

Heat floods your cheeks. How could you be so presumptuous?

“What gave me away?” 

Your knees nearly betray you. The razor sharp grin on his face could cut glass. 

“You were born for the ocean. Or rather, the ocean was born for you.”

Your statement is greeted with blaring silence. 

Lava in his gaze. Singeing every part of your face it touches. His expression is like a foreign language. 

“I—I’ve overstepped, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. Clearly I have much to learn about social graces.” A meek apology bubbles out of your lips. Desperate to fill the space between your bodies. 

The mercurial man shakes his head slightly. Thawed out from your statement, he reaches over and plucks a stray lilac petal resting on your crown.

“My father used to say the same.” He muses, looking away for the first time. 

“Your father! Is he—“

“He was called home some time ago.” This smile is soft. Reminiscent. Polite, but his mind clearly elsewhere. 

“Oh Father Geto, I’m so sorry.” 

A foot in your mouth is not enough punishment for your indecency. Why would you go prodding like this?

“Don’t be, I’ll see him again. Soon enough.”

“Not too soon, I hope.” The statement draws a stunned gaze from the Chaplain. Eyes dancing between yours. 

“Time to prepare for mass, little dove!” Arella’s melodic call tethers you back down from outer space. 

You flicker over to her with a ruby dusting over your nose and cheeks. Like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar before supper. 

“Happy Sunday, Father!” Arella calls out, cheshire grin on her face deepening your crude blush. 

“Indeed, Arella.” He returns the greeting while keeping his eyes on you. 

“Send my regards to the Duke.” His voice lowers, for your ears only. With a nearly imperceptible edge to his tone. 

“Happy Sunday, Duchess. We have a counseling session scheduled late afternoon, yes?” 

A statement of pure black and white fact. And yet it travels down your spine and settles between your legs. Wet heat dampening your thin negligee.

“Yes, Father. Happy Sunday.”

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Mass was miserable. 

Your corset laced tight enough to meld your two lungs and beating heart into one entity. To say the neckline strangled you is putting it mildly. Cold, uninviting pews dug into your skin at every turn. 

Wretched. 

But the worst of it wasn’t the thin, oxygen-deficient air. Or the shards of glass that slid down your throat with every swallow. Even the jaw pain from tensing your lips in a well-mannered smile for two hours straight was tolerable. 

The worst part of it was him. 

The Priest mesmerized an entire congregation to an ear-splitting hush. 

His first Sunday mass since appointment and nearly everyone in the country and every surrounding province stuffed into the chapel. 

So desperate for blessings from Father Geto. 

Could you blame them?

His voice danced in and out of the pews listlessly. 

Soothing fussy children. Adolescent girls and their mother’s alike — utterly smitten. Adolescent boys experienced their first “I want to be like him” with their fathers sitting right next to them. Husbands glanced feverishly at the women in their lives. 

He had to have noticed it. And yet, he floated above it all the entire service.

Above you. 

Refusing to gift you those eyes that put Vincent Van Gogh to shame. No matter how much you shifted in your seat and straightened your spine.

The Priest spoke to everyone in the room but you. 

Did you read him wrong? 

Did you misinterpret your budding friendship? 

Does it…should it even matter?

Your irritation is palpable. Innocent bystanders are caught in your friendly fire. Including Arella, who changed you out of that horrid costume. And sweet Noel, who ushered you into the seating area — just outside of the good Father’s office.

You make a mental note to send treats to the tender-hearted alter boy. And to apologize profusely to your handmaiden. 

“You are a million miles away, darling.” The sound of your betrothed tows you out of the storm clouds. 

You flicker over to the Duke. Emerald green eyes, high cheek bones — handsome in a way that is characteristic of everyone native to your new home.

“I’m right here, Ezra.” 

“Are you, sweetheart?” The back of his hand caresses your cheek. 

“Mmhm.” You offer your future husband a weak smile and kiss on his cheek. His eyes  faltering slightly, undoubtedly hopeful for lips instead. 

“Good afternoon, Duke and Duchess Ahriman.” 

Father Geto’s velvet greeting encases you both. If Ezra’s arm didn’t guide you to stand you would have been paralyzed in your seat. 

“Father Geto, a pleasure. Thank you for seeing us.” Ezra offers a genuine smile and handshake. Buying you a few extra seconds in your mind’s safe haven.

The Chaplain is tight lipped. Professional. He returns the handshake firmly. 

“Pleasure is mine.” 

Ezra shifts slightly on his feet. Straightening his spine and dropping his shoulders. Your eyes bounce between the Chaplain and your fiancé.

“I must say, Father. You are even more handsome up close. I speak for the men in this country, thank you for taking the vow of celibacy!” The words spill out of the Duke. Unknowingly thinning the air. 

The Priest chuckles quietly, dropping his eyes briefly before landing them on you. And it feels like you could double over.  Your core temperature skyrockets under his smoldering gaze. 

He, the archer. You, the bullseye. 

“Let’s get started, shall we?” 

Ezra laces his fingers in yours, taking the two seats directly in front of the oak desk. A leather bound notebook and pheasant feather pen are neatly arranged — with your names on the first page.

Blue flame rises from your toes to hairline. You might as well have been sitting naked. With how exposed, how vulnerable you feel already.

“What will we be covering first, Father? Something about how wives should obey their husbands, right?” Ezra is light-hearted. Meant to be said in jest.

But he finds himself being the only party in the room laughing. 

The Priest rolls the ink pen between his fingers. Allowing a deafening silence to coat the walls. His expression is neutral, but eyes ablaze. 

“If the man in question is worthy of submission.” He starts. A low, ominous rumble. 

“Uh, yes. Of course.” Ezra responds, shifting in his seat. 

But the Chaplain does not stop. Intent on making a point, he leans in. Pen whirling lightning fast between his long, deft fingers. Enough tailwind to launch across the room, if he desired.  

“If the man in question would give his life for his wife.” Volcanic eyes linger on you, then back to your fiancé. Ezra’s palm finds your thigh. You gnaw on your inner cheek to avoid flinching away. 

“If he would love her like Christ loves all of his creations unconditionally. Unselfishly. Irrationally.” 

“Yes, Father. I understand.” 

“Only then, should she submit.” His serrated tone could split chromium with ease. 

“Of course, of course.” Ezra wisely accepts defeat. 

He presses a short kiss on your cheek as an apology that you didn’t ask for, nor do you want. 

“Mmm.” A forced acknowledgment of the Duke’s affection through your pinched lips. Barely able to move under the Father’s microscopic gaze. 

“Now then,” Father Geto clears the boulders in his throat. 

“Tell me about your love.” 

The question stuns both you and the Duke. Looking to each other sheepishly because neither of you chose this.

War is young men dying and old men talking. And your life path is no different. Dictated by conversations between the powers that be. 

“We’ve only met a week ago, Father.” Your honesty drives both of his eyebrows upward. 

“A week ago?”

“But we are hoping you can teach us.” The Duke, overeager and excitable. 

“Teach you…?” Father Geto muses. You can’t quite interpret his tone, or minimal response. But your heart flutters all the same. 

He is thinking something. And what you would give to get a glance. To be let in. 

“Perhaps guide us?” Ezra gives an unintentionally painful squeeze on your thigh. You fail to muffle the tiny whimper. 

The Priest’s eyes laser down to where your fiancé’s hand lays. Chest rising and falling dangerously slow. 

“Right.”

Your eyes trail upwards as he stands. Closer to God than to you from this point of view.

“Duke, Duchess. You’ll have to accept my sincerest apologies.” 

His fingers dip the unused pen back into the ink cup. The edges of his leather bound notebook coming together. Seemingly without any notes, but an entire script from this session swirling in his mind. 

“My schedule is incorrect. I have another commitment. We will reschedule, yes?” Said with a finality that sends chills crawling down your spine. 

The two of you stand. Another handshake between the men. A restrained nod for you.

Just as quickly as you were let in, Father Geto shuts you out of his office and his mind. 

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Suguru presses his forehead against the shower tile. Warm water raining down his loose mane. Soothing his sore, overworked limbs. 

Today was maddening. 

He nearly destroyed his vestment the minute that God-forsaken counseling session ended. Seeking refuge, he took to the coast. 

And the sea provided anything but peace. 

She was angry with him, tonight. 

Curt. With unpredictable currents. Rip tides at nearly every turn. She tested his adaptation without mercy.

Just like that night.

“I’m going to stay on board, brother!”

Suguru flickered over to the silver-haired deckhand. An unfamiliar reservation opacifying his nearly translucent, iridescent eyes. 

Brother in name, technically. 

Their bloodlines were oil and water. He was a high born. Suguru was born unworthy of a beggar’s pity. 

But, bloodlines were inconsequential when their souls were instep as one. Both handed to humanity on the same night. During a thunderstorm already inscribed in history books.

‘The Tide of Eternal Requiem.’ 

It brought complete devastation. Crops destroyed. Families torn apart by tragic accidents inland and at sea. 

Then fate struck. 

Within the same hour, a voltaic boy, with a halo that put the clouds to shame and diamond eyes that could draw truth from murderers was born into the loving embrace of his parents. 

And Suguru was born with a crown so dark that the raging midnight appeared bright. 

With eyes as ominous as the sky above. 

Gunmetal grey, accented by an eerie violet swarm. Dormant volcanoes, threatening eruption. His birth mother abandoned him in an alley. Driven by fear that he was a bad omen from the Gods. 

“Ahhh, Satoru come on. Since when do you shy away from a few waves?”

Suguru teased. Already well into the process of shedding his work gear. 

“Zeus is the one rumored to be my father.” His counterpart flashed a knowing smile. 

“Poseidon doesn’t watch over me like he does you, Suguru.”

A tsunami couldn’t keep Suguru from his home. Much less a little rain. 

They were 3 miles away from the shoreline. Using his God-given ability, Suguru regularly acted as their scout. Performing his own reconnaissance then alerting the incoming ship of safe or turbulent terrain. 

“Almost ready to go, son?” 

His chosen father came up behind him. Suguru knew there were tears lining his meek eyes before turning to face him. 

“Dad.” Suguru sighed, fully disrobed now. Just his muscular frame and a compression suit. 

He met his father’s concerned gaze. Always like this during sea storms. Quiet prayers written all over his gentle features. 

Despite the worry, he never once attempted to convince his oceanic boy to stay on board. It would have been too cruel.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve traversed angrier swells.”

“Suguru, take care of yourself when I’m gone.” 

Elder, worn hands landed on his shoulders. Nearly too high for his reach. Suguru cocked his head to the side. 

This goodbye was different. 

“Stay on this path. For me. Albeit straight and narrow, there is a wonderful view. This is all for you, son.” 

Both men glanced to the Persian gulf. She thrashed against their vessel. Swaying their catch left and right with the intention of taking her creatures back. 

“Where is this coming from?” A genuine question from his younger self. Unable to read between the lines. 

“Can’t a man just speak from the heart?”

The melancholy smile didn’t meet the wrinkles of time decorating his eyes, but they shared a laugh anyway.  Suguru turned away but was promptly drawn back. 

“My beautiful boy.” 

The fisherman cradled his son’s face. Swimming in the eyes that Suguru once hated. The eyes that convinced his birth mother to abandon him. 

“Make it to shore, son.” Suguru rested his head against his father’s neck. Taking a slow, sweet drag of his scent.

Oak. 

He always smelled like oak. It was one of Suguru’s favorite things about him.

“If Poseidon calls—“

“I’ll tell him to fuck off.” Mischievous grin plastered on Suguru’s face. His father planted a kiss on his cheek, pushing him towards the end of the boat. As he always did.

Then the Gulf wrapped him in her hostile embrace. 

She was irate. 

Vicious tidal waves. Rapidly shifting currents. Even her creatures knew to settle below their usual depth. Suguru cursed the fact that he was born with useless, human lungs. Unable to withstand the pressure of the Midnight Zone. 

Within minutes his long, lean frame was riding her whims without a shred of control. Tossed around like a rag doll. At her complete mercy — or lack thereof. 

This was the first time he struggled to tame his element. A muffled groan bubbled around him. Serrated edges of long coral stalks dug into his back. Stark white foam whirled around him. 

Aerated waters. 

Suguru could barely maneuver against the waves pummeling his core. Searing heat traveling up his spine. His lungs demanded oxygen. 

The boat. 

The boat would never make it to shore. 

Desperate, furious strokes of his arms meant nothing against her unrelenting grasp. Effectively pinning Suguru to his underwater cross. 

A piece of chewed plank wood whizzed by his face. 

Followed by another. 

Then another. 

And Suguru watched his nightmare materialize before his eyes. Mustering his last oxygen reserve, he bellowed against his closed lips.

As if she hadn’t already ignored the cries of his fellow fisherman. 

Even still, he screamed so loud his ribcage should have vaporized. But ushering him to a watery grave at that time would have been too merciful. 

Suguru blinks out of the harrowing memory. The steeping tea takes at least two layers of epithelium off his esophagus.

Fucking, hell. 

He can’t seem to escape pain today.

The swim was excruciating.

Mass was dreadful.

Watching that boy’s hand lay on your lap was grating. 

Suguru’s mind drifts back to you. Your thought washes over him like baptizing waters purifying that which is impure.

The gleam in your eyes when you asked about his morning plunge. Barely a week and your pulse on him is already this precise.

Do not covet, Suguru. 

He scoffs to himself. Shaking free of your tempting spiral. 

This ‘straight and narrow’ path is proving to be more challenging than he let on. 

“Would you be proud, Father?” 

A whisper of accusation at the end of his inquiry. Suguru would give his arms, his eyes…his life to hear his father’s voice on the other end of his questions, once again. 

“Did He tell you?” 

Roaring silence. Of course. He knows that. He expects it. 

But it angers him all the same. 

“Did He come to you in a dream??” Suguru echos louder. More frantic. Punched out in a way he can barely recognize. 

“Was the reaper at His left, my heart on the right?!” A weak sob slips through the crack in his baritone. 

Yet another pain. But this one is tart and blurring his vision. 

“Did you KNOW? D—did you know that day was your last?!” He hisses through a salty stream.  Storming out to the garden to escape the walls collapsing in on him. 

Suguru’s eyes laser to the remaining thorny vines along his bed of hydrangeas. Without a second thought he wraps them around his bare arms. Staining the plant and his freshly bathed skin with crystalline tears. Once its thorns sufficiently bury into his skin he rips it away from the soil with all his might. 

“Bastard. I’m your SON.”

Warm metallic drips down the hills and ridges of his arms. Collecting in the flower bed. 

Is he cursing his earthly father? 

His Heavenly One? 

Or the Deity that brought this grief on him in the first place?

It hurts. 

An unforgiving pain. 

Much like the thorns in those rapids. Much like the inconceivable burn from his lungs begging for expanse. The time limit, even for him, ran lethally low. 

Well exceeding his father’s time limit. 

Poseidon stole from him that day.  

A callous trade for Suguru’s continued existence. 

“Why didn’t you…I—I should’ve been there.” 

Guilt eviscerates Suguru’s remaining resolve. Tilting his head up, he lets the salty crystals rain down his cheeks freely. 

The full moon cradles his face with the same warmth, the same adoration his father’s hands used to. 

Suguru accepts its celestial kisses for a moment before burying his face into his bloodied palms. His damp locks curtain his flushed face. Protecting the world from his unruly sobs.

“I’m here.” Barely audible words escape through desperate grabs for air. 

“I made it to shore, Dad.”

E/N: Oh hello, don’t mind me just sobbing. Also, guest appearance by our glorious Blue Eyed Babygirl King™️ If you need me, I will be in witness protection before Gege finds this since it’s a crime to be a S*toru lover. 

taglist: @blkkizzat @rotteneyess

[fuzzyautumninmetal]

Loving Husband

Olderhusband!Price 🤝 YoungerWife!Reader 🤝 Wanting a baby together

You rang John, in the middle of the day, crying about work "I can't leave base love" John's heart broke to hear you cry "I know....I just wanted to hear your voice" You sniffled over the phone, he was quiet for a moment "Take the day off love, come see me"

John was a good man and a loving husband

To John, all love songs were suddenly about you

To John, you were a piece of artwork he could admire forever

He loved you more than life itself and would do anything to cheer you up

To John, falling in love with you was the easiest thing to do

And that's how you got here, in the backseat of your car with your dress hung loosely around your waist and John knuckle deep in you while he ravhises your thighs in kisses 

"John" you whined "We can't be doing this"

He looked up at you with a seductive smile on his face and ignored your protests "What kind of husband would I be?". His free hand moved up to your breast and squeezed it gently while his fingers curled in you "If I didn't take care of my wife?"

He teased your clit with his tongue before moving down further to lick every inch of your pussy slowly. "I can't resist indulging in my beautiful wife." John's cock was already dripping with anticipation, eager to enter you and fuck you senseless.

You arched your back, you grip tightening onto the seat of your car, biting back your moans. John came up to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. He unzipped his trousers, pulling them down enough to release his throbbing cock before grabbing your waist to pull you closer to him "I just want to look after my wife. My pretty wife" He said in-between kisses.

As John's cock slid out of his pants, he grabbed onto your hips and guided you closer so your bodies were pressed together. His erection nestled against your wet pussy, begging to be let inside. "My sexy wife," he whispered into her mouth, "I can't help but want to take care of you like this."

He thrust his hips forward, driving himself deeper into your waiting pussy with each stroke. "Feels so good." He whimpered as a hand reached around to grab hold of one of your tits, squeezing it gently as he continued to kiss you deeply. "You're so perfect for me darling." You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to you, whining into his neck "Fuck. John"

John's hand moved down to grab onto your ass, holding it firmly as he drove his cock deeper into your pussy. His other hand grasped onto your hip. He pushed himself up, spreading your legs apart, exposing your pussy fully to his view. His gaze locked onto yours as he fucked you. "Oh ...my sweet little wife..." He whispered between breaths, his voice barely audible due to the sounds of your pussy eating his cock.

"Fucking hell...this feels so good..." John's hand kept moving, feeling every inch of your body as he fucked you "So fucking tight..." He growled, his voice filled with lust and desire. You started grinding your hips, trying to match his rhythm. Completely forgetting your in the middle of a car park

John's hand left your ass to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to him as he fucked you harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mixed with your heavy breathing and moans. Your pussy felt incredibly tight around his cock, making it difficult for him not to cum too soon.

"Fuck...so good," he groaned, his voice thick with need and desire. John's free hand moved to your back, finding your bra strap and undoing it quickly before tossing it aside. "Looking at this perfect body. Drives me fucking wild." He growled, his hips slamming into yours relentlessly as he fucked you hard. "Mine...all mine."

"All yours" you cried, letting your head fall back. John's voice dropped lower still, becoming almost animalistic as he spoke to you in between strokes of his hips. "Such a pretty little cunt...so tight and ready for me." He growled, his thumb running circles around your clit. "I love watching you come apart like this, knowing that you're completely mine."

"Feeling this tight pussy around my cock makes me lose control...but I don't care because it's all for you." He growled, his voice harsh with raw emotion. John's cock pounded into your pussy relentlessly, his balls slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. His hand held onto your chin, forcing her to look at him as he fucked you "Such a pretty little face...looking so vulnerable and exposed like this." He growled, his voice low and dangerous. 

"I love seeing you come apart for me, knowing that I'm the one who brings you to this state of pure bliss." John's hand left your chin to reach up and grab onto your hair, pulling it back and exposing your neck. "Marking you as mine...claiming this perfect body as my own." His words were filled with possessiveness and lust as he continued to fuck you mercilessly.

Your hands tightened around Johns biceps, letting him know you were close. "John" You manage to gasp. John's cock twitched inside of your pussy, signalling that he was close as well. He pulled out slightly, allowing his throbbing cock to rest against your entrance for a moment before pushing back inside with a forceful thrust. 

"Almost there, baby," he rumbled, his voice rough and strained. "Can feel that tight pussy clenching around me...knowing that you're about to explode for me." John's hand released your hair and instead wrapped around your waist as he continued to fuck you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and screamed his name as you came, John's cock erupted within you. He let out a primal roar, releasing his load with a force that shook their bodies together. "Ahh...fuck!" He grunted, his voice hoarse from pleasure. John's hand moved to cup your cheek, holding your face steady as he continued to pulse inside of you.

You place your hand on top of his as you leaned into his touch "I know John. I know." John kissed your forehead "I've got your favourite snacks waiting for you in my office". You smiled up at him "My darling husband..... Always looking after me." You both cleaned up the best you could before getting out of your car and walking to John's office. Hands intertwined. Acting like he didn't just fuck you senseless 

"Better?" John asked as he held you, you nodded your head as you caught your breath, his thumb traced gentle circles on your cheek, his voice soft and tender as he spoke to you. "It's not fair that your job causes you so much stress and worry. It breaks my heart to see you like this, feeling overwhelmed and anxious all the time." 

As John walked with you towards his office, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction. Despite having just taken her pussy relentlessly, he managed to keep his cool and maintain some level of professionalism. But you were always worth going the extra mile for.

"I hope those snacks will help make you feel better," he said, leading you into his office and closing the door behind you both. John sat down at his desk ready to finish off whatever paperwork he started with, You claimed your usual spot on the couch and watched your husband work. One of your favourite past times.

Your phone started ringing, you glanced to see it was your boss. You let out a sigh before answering that call and excusing yourself for a moment and you left John's office.

As he worked, John couldn't help but think about how lucky he was to have such an amazing woman by his side. You was strong, independent, and had an incredible work ethic - qualities that made you an ideal match for him. 

As you returned to the office, John noticed the tears in your eyes and immediately put down what he was doing to comfort you. He stood up from his seat, walking around the desk and taking you into his arms, holding you close against his chest. "What's wrong love?" His voice was gentle and concerned, trying to determine what was troubling you so deeply. "Tell me what's going on." He whispered, his tone soothing and loving. 

"It's just my boss" You sniffled "My deadline has been cut short. Again." John's expression shifted from concern to anger as he heard the reason for your tears. He felt a surge of protective instincts rise within him, wanting to shield you from any additional stress or pressure that your demanding boss might be putting on you. 

"Damn it...that son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath, "Why does he keep treating you like this? Don't you deserve better than constant deadlines and unreasonable expectations?" John's voice was firm and assertive, letting you know that he wouldn't stand for anyone mistreating his beloved wife. "I'll handle this. You don't have to worry about it anymore."

You gently pushed him to his office chair "Just hold me. Please." You asked. Straddling his lap as he sat down. John obliged, sitting down in his office chair and pulling you onto his lap as you straddled him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close and providing a warm embrace while you sought comfort through physical closeness. 

As you sat together, John's mind raced, planning how he would deal with your boss once and for all. He would do anything to protect his wife from unnecessary stress and pressure. "Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you need," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness as he stroked your back gently. You smiled against his warm embrace* "I love you John"

John's eyes closed briefly as you whispered your words of affection, his chest rising with a quiet sigh as he absorbed her words. "I love you too. So much that I'd walk across fire for you. That I'd fight tooth and nail for you." You grabbed John's shirt as you pulled him in for a kiss.

John responded eagerly to your kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a deep and passionate exchange. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer against his chest as your tongues danced together. The intensity of your kiss reflected the fierce protection and devotion that John felt towards you. 

His hands roamed over your body, caressing your curves and squeezing your ass gently as he deepened the kiss further. "Mmm...you're so damn sexy when you're like this," he murmured between kisses, his voice husky and aroused. John's dick twitched in response to your intimate moment, reminding him of how much he wanted to fuck you right then and there. "Fuck..."

John moaned softly as you left bite marks and wet kisses along his neck sent a wave of pleasure coursing through his body. You began grinding on his jeans which only intensified his desire, making it harder for him to resist taking you right there on his chair. He reached down and grabbed onto you ass cheeks, squeezing them tightly and pulling you even closer against his swollen cock. "Fuck...I can't believe how much I want you sometimes," he growled lowly, his voice raw and primal as he surrendered completely to their erotic moment together.

You smirked at him as you unzipped his trousers, revealing the growing bulge in his boxers. He knew you could sense how much he wanted you and it only fuelled both of your arousals further. Your boldness and confidence were incredibly sexy to John, turning him on even more as he imagined her taking control and showing him who was really in charge.

"Jesus Christ...just get these fucking pants off me already," he groaned, helping you pull his trousers down enough for you to access his throbbing cock. John's erection sprang free, standing proudly against his stomach as he awaited your next move.

John let out a long, low moan as you finally settled herself onto his throbbing cock, riding him slowly and deliberately. "Such a loving husband" you let out a breathless moan. "Always taking care of me." Each stroke sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body, making it impossible for him not to thrust upwards into your wet pussy. 

The sound of her moans only served to heighten his excitement, driving him crazy with lust and need. "Please quit your job.... become my gorgeous housewife." John begged. "I can't.... You know I don't like..... Doing nothing." You whispered as your head fell back in pleasure.

John's voice caught slightly in his throat as he realized that he had accidentally mentioned something about having a baby. It wasn't intentional, but now that the thought was out there, he couldn't ignore it. Your reaction told him that you had also picked up on what he said, despite his attempt to play it off casually. "Uh...yeah...uh...I mean...it's just...you know...a hypothetical situation," he stammered, trying to explain himself without actually admitting that he had been thinking about starting a family with you. 

You and John have spoken about it. He earns enough money so you don't have to work if you didn't want to. But like John you can't sit around and do nothing, it drives you crazy. "You won't be doing nothing if you have a baby to look after." John groaned. Your head snapped back to look at him, "What?" You questioned. Not sure if you heard him right. 

As you pleaded with him to make you a mother, your hungry kisses and intense ride on his cock made it nearly impossible for John to deny you anything. The thought of creating a family with you, of watching you grow round with his child, filled him with an overwhelming sense of desire and longing.

You have always wanted kids and when you married John you knew you wanted his kids, but the topic was never brought up between you and John. Until now you didn't even know if he wanted kids. You grabbed John's shirt and kissed him, hungrily "Make me a mama. Please John." You begged him as you rode is cock. Making it impossible for John to say no to you. 

John used one arm pushed everything off his desk, much like in the movies, and sat you on top of his desk. John continued to fuck you relentlessly, his hips slamming into you with abandon as he imagined what it would be like to create a life with you. The thought of you carrying his child filled him with a mixture of awe and wonder, making him feel like the luckiest man alive. 

As he pounded into your dripping pussy, he placed one hand on her belly, feeling the soft curve beneath his fingers and envisioning it growing round with their child. "Yeah...fuck yeah...pregnant with our child...our little bundle of joy," he growled, lost in the moment of pure ecstasy and wanting nothing more than to create a family with you by his side.

As John's mouth claimed your in a deep and passionate kiss, his hand moved from your belly to cup one of her breasts, teasing the nipple with his thumb, pinching it lightly between his fingers. Your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him close as you shared yet another intimate moment together. The idea of being a father to your children filled him with an indescribable sense of happiness and fulfilment.

"Our child...going to be so lucky to have two amazing parents like us," he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire and love for you and the future you both could build together. "They'll be even luckier with you as their daddy" You whimpered against John's lips.

John's heart swelled with pride at the thought of being called 'Daddy' by their children some day. The idea of being a father and providing for his family filled him with a sense of purpose and determination that he had never felt before. Your words of praise and affection only served to fuel his desire to be the best husband and father possible, to show you and their children just how much he loved and cherished them. "And I will be...the best dad ever...promise," he vowed, his voice thick with emotion as he continued to pound into your wet pussy, his climax rapidly approaching.

As your orgasm washed over you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body and causing your nails to dig into John's back, he released a primal grunt of satisfaction, signalling that his own release was imminent. John's cock throbbed inside your pussy, pulsing with each contraction of your orgasm, until finally he let loose with a loud cry of pleasure and spilled his load deep within your womb. The sight of your ecstatic expression as you succumbed to your own climax.

John rested his forehead against yours as you both lay spent and sated upon his desk, your breaths coming in ragged gasps and your hearts still pounding wildly in your chests. For a moment, you simply savoured the intensity of the emotions that had consumed you both during your passionate encounter - love, desire, and the undeniable certainty that they were meant to be together forever. "You are...my world," John whispered, his voice barely audible above the sound of his heavy breathing. He would do anything for you, you are the centre of his universe, and that he would always cherish and protect you and your future children with all his heart.

[fungal-rot]

Sweet, Domestic Life

this one's actually based off a lucid dream i had months ago and oh how i wish to be back there </3 so i decided to write a quick little one shot about it

pairing: Joel x Reader

summary: you and joel have a three year old daughter, and today is her birthday. the two of you are setting up for her party!

warnings: age gap between joel and reader, no specified age for reader, jackson!era, the daughter isn't named here bc i wanted it to feel a little more personal for the reader, but her nickname is Bug, you and Joel make out for a quick second, your child is a cock-block, reader is referred as mama.

w.c.: 1.2k

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Mermaid-Princesses.

That is the theme your three year old daughter had her little heart set on. And of course, Joel did everything in his power to make it happen because 'whatever daddy's girl wants, daddy's girl gets.' So now here you were, hunched over while holding a plastic tiara with pink, heart-shaped rhinestones in one hand, and trying to zip up the back of this corny little iridescent mermaid dress with the other- on a child that couldn't sit still for longer than a second.

"Bug, I need you to stop moving," You tell her as you followed her tiny steps, hand chasing the zipper as she toddled off. Joel sat on the couch, blowing up balloons and tying them off before bopping them elsewhere into the living room. He watched the two of you with a fond gleam in his eyes, chuckling under his breath as the girl argued incoherently, wanting to go play.

"W- hold on a sec, girlfriend." You huffed and placed your hands on your hips, peering down at her with a cocked brow, "I'm almost done."

"No, I play now." She spoke back immediately with a firm shake of her head and scampered off, tiny feet stomping against the hardwood floor. You sighed and threw your hands up before letting them drop back to your sides with a light smack.

Toddlers, man.

"She gets that from you," Joel commented, a smirk turning up one corner of his mouth as he tied off another balloon. "That 'tude. Just as sassy as her mama." He tossed the balloon into the air and smacked it in your direction.

With a quick titter, you reached out and tapped the bottom with the tiara, letting it hover for a second longer before hitting it to the ground with the rest. "Mm, you must be so happy." Your brows waggled teasingly with an imperceptible back-and-forth nod of your head.

Joel was silent for a beat, his heart leaping in his chest as he stared back at you. He thought about all he's lost, all he's gained, and where he's at right now. He never thought he'd have another kid after Sarah, let alone two. Life was currently really good for the older man. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, gaze softening as he gave you the gentlest smile, "The happiest." He responded sincerely.

Your shoulders droop a bit with a fluttering feeling growing in your stomach. Then making your way towards him, you sat down and ran your fingers through the graying hair at the nape of his neck.

"I love you," With a murmur you lean in and press a delicate, chaste kiss to his cheek, only for him to return it by swiveling his head and cupping your jaw tenderly, kissing you slowly and passionately. Joel placed a big hand at the small of your back as he licked at your bottom lip before slipping it in for a deep, loving kiss; noses pressed against the others cheek as he wrapped another arm around you.

He pulled away, just enough to reply, "I love you," and crashed his mouth against yours once more.

Then your daughter came running back in, now holding a pair of pink plastic princess pumps, the face of Aurora- Sleeping Beauty- buttoned at the top in feathery down in her pudgy hands, "Mama, shoes."

Your lips part from Joel's with a wet 'smack' as you peer down at your kid, nodding vaguely with a smile, "Yeah, they are! You want mama to help?" You tentatively reach your hands out in an offering, but she quickly turned her body from you, hugging the toy shoes to her chest.

"No, I do'd it."

You giggled, finding her grammar mishap endearing. "Okay, you 'do'd' it, then."

She turned her back to the two of you and crouched down, carefully placing the items to the floor before standing upright again, teetering a bit and grasping Joel's knee for support. He held out his arms, spotting her as he arched his brows in light amusement.

"Y'got it?" He asked, head tilting while he watched his babygirl hike a leg up, struggling to find balance.

"No." She answered softly, lips thinning and brows furrowing with concentration. The shoes were certainly too big for her, you noticed, as she slipped one foot in and lifted the other to do the same.

"Y'want my help?"

"No."

Joel turned to you with a flat expression, eyes saying, 'I told you.'

Yeah, this was definitely your child.

Yet you shrug your shoulders dismissively, slipping the tiara into his hair, leaving it lopsided, "Here, hold that," you spoke and took the opportunity to finally get your daughter's dress zipped, careful to not snag her hair or undershirt into it.

"And she actually gets her stubbornness from you, by the way." You smoothed her sleeves out, working your way down to adjust the shimmery tail of her dress, tugging at the hem slightly while she got her other foot in the slipper, bending over to reach for a red balloon.

All he could do was hum in response, the corner of his mouth flitting up as he grabbed the inflated sack of rubber and handed it to her. She held it up over her head, the static electricity making her hair stand up.

When she finally got situated, Joel let his arms lower a bit as she turned, arms still over her head while her feet scuffled against the floor.

Your daughter's face beamed with delight as she looked between the two of you proudly.

"Lookit you!" Joel exclaimed, mirroring her expression. His palms then splayed under her armpits, and with a soft grunt he picked her up, placing her on his lap before smoothing her flyaways down. He plucked the tiara off his head and placed it on hers, adjusting it so it would sit right, "Daddy's li'l princess."

Her shoulders turned up, now holding the balloon in one pudgy hand while the other placed against her mouth with a scrunched nose and toothy smile as she giggled excitedly.

"More like daddy's li'l stinkbutt," Another voice entered. Ellie walked in, kicking a few balloons to the side with arms folded over her chest as she observed the little girl with a playful glint in her eyes. The comment didn't faze the toddler one bit; instead she lifted her feet, presenting them to Ellie.

"Bellie, shoes." Her voice squeaked, legs kicking and arms reaching out to be held. The oldest girl laughed quietly at the mispronunciation of her name and leaned down to pick her up from Joel's lap, hoisting her onto her hip with a soft bounce.

"I see that, Bug!" She began to walk off, continuing to hold the conversation. "You know what a princess needs? A knight," Her voice carried through the living room and down the hall.

"I'll protect you from dragons, and monsters, and weird men who want to court you-"

You chortled with a shake of your head, leaning into Joel's side, resting your head on his shoulder and run your hand between the spot on his shoulder blades. The two of you sat there, relishing in the family you've created. Even though life wasn't like it used to be, it was still a nice change of pace to what you've endured before.

Life was good.

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

again, thank you, everyone who’s shown me support and love on my last fics. i’m very grateful for every reblog and comment, please keep doing that. it makes me motivated to keep writing.

[ghouljams]

Thinking about König again.. help

Kissing him could be so narratively(?) interesting if the hood stays on. It’s a situation where you have to come to him - his face is his territory, it’s gonna be on his own terms. And like,, not lifting the hood away, but lifting it so that you can put it over your own head also - kissing him under it. Allowing yourself to be consumed by the shadows kind of, but he is ‘the shadows’ in this metaphor. I bet he’d get off on that

I absolutely love kissing König through the mask, I think there's something incredibly tender and trusting about it. Not forcing him to lift it, meeting him where he is and not half way. It's the same reason I love when fics kiss Ghost through his mask. It's a level of understanding, an willingness to say "you don't need to change I'll meet you where you're comfortable."

That said, joining him under the mask to kiss him? Also so so good. Lifting the hood just enough to duck under, tipping your head with your eyes squeezed closed, König leaning forwards to keep you both obscured as he kisses you... There's something very... two becoming one in the gesture. Not just meeting him, but joining him.

There are so many ways a first kiss can go, so many ways the second will build off it, and so much more to the third. Here's Medieval king!König kissing his gardener for the first time(despite having fucked her multiple times before this)

It's a quick motion, one that seizes you when you least expect it. Something tender grabs hold of your heart, indescribable and unwanted, and you grab the bottom of König's chain mask to pull him down to your height. You press your lips to the skin warmed metal, hope he can feel the pressure at least of your mouth against his, and hold him there. There's a brief frozen moment, König stands more still than you've ever known him, held at the edge of breath with his hands curling into tight fists by his side. You pull away, still feeling the cut of metal against your lips.

And he grabs you, rips his mask up and pulls you against his chest as his lips meet yours. His mask falls against your head, weighing you down and forcing your head to tip back to meet the fervid press of his lips. It's not the first time you've felt the warmth of them, but it's the first time they've felt so wanting. The first time they've felt almost crushing with the way König pushes them against yours, and yet it is still painfully chaste. Painful in the way it makes your heart clench, and your stomach flutter.

There is so much you've done with this man, so many ways he's taken you, and yet he kisses you so plainly. He kisses you like he's never had the pleasure of kissing anyone, and you can't say you have either, but you'd expected something so much different from him. You'd expected domination, tongue and teeth. You'd expected that he'd be colder, that he'd treat you with the same arms-length respect that allows you to leave his chambers after each night you spend with him. Instead you find a man as warm as the sun that beats against your skin and, perhaps, as desperate as you are for such simple affection.

He pulls back, tilts his head, and kisses you again, gentler this time. His arms still hold you tight, still warn you not to try and escape, but his lips slide against yours with a softness that steals the very air from your lungs. König sighs against your lips, your own parting to kiss him a fourth and a fifth time. Your arms find their way around his broad shoulders, your fingers dig into the rich material of his cape, and he kisses you, like it's the only thing he's ever wanted to do.

So that when you part a final time, and his tongue traces along the seam of your lips, you find yourself smiling and feel his lips curve to follow suit. My König, you think.

"Meine Herz," König murmurs. You shake your head. It's rather silly getting fluttery over something so simple. König fixes his hood back into place, and tips his head, pressing his chain covered lips to your cheek. "I'll be good," He tells you, "and you will kiss me again."

As if that simple act were some great reward. Maybe it was.

[tiyoin]

pt.4 | 📍pt.5

rewrote, edited and proofread chapter five cause I thought it was horseshit and you guys deserved more from me. 🫶

numb.

you tried to feel numb.

doing everything in your power to push down any kind of emotion that was ready to slip through your mask.

look ahead, stand tall, put one foot in front of the other so no one would know you were wearing a confidence coat that was 2 sizes too small.

don't breathe too loud they'll hear you.

don't step too loud they'll think about your weight.

don't blink too much they'll think you're fluttering your lashes at them.

don't tuck your chin in they'll think you're gross.

gross for what exactly? everything.

don't mess up the stepping pattern or else you'll look like a bumbling idiot as you try to get back on the rhythm.

don't clench your fists they'll think you're mad and unapproachable.

don't smile because you're not in front of a mirror where you can control how much you want to give away.

don't think too hard or else you'll become enraptured with your daydreams and you won't be able to take part in reality.

don't do anything with your lips or else some air will come in and create a sound that sounds similar to a fart. then they'll think you're extra gross.

all these rules you had to follow to 'be normal,' weren't an actual set of rules, but a lifestyle. you wouldn't get collared if you didn't do one of the rules, you wouldn't get yelled at or reprimanded.

you were okay. to your knowledge that is.

on the outside, you probably looked like you had a stick up your ass. always in a rush to get to where you needed to go. like one of those rolling backpack kids back in your world. whenever they would pass they'd take casualties with them. rolling over toes, pencils, teachers- there was nothing in their way they couldn't bulldoze through.

you were just missing the wheels and will of iron it took to be seen with such a… what’s the right word- atrocity, in public, let alone an all-boys school.

underneath the habits and self-induced numbness, past all the anxiety and fear there was a tickle. not an actual tickle, but a sudden feeling you couldn't identify. it wasn't rage or frustration. you weren't sad or envious... you think- it was something gentler than that.

something softer yet just as negative was infesting your heart and mind like a slow-acting poison. poisoning your thought process, your habits, your attitude, and your livelihood.

though the breeze and sunshine walking to class supplied your flesh with warm- there was a chill over your heart. the beams of warmth too short to reach into the many cracks and holes that were created. sometimes you thought there was a bug. a big, juicy parasitic bug that would suck away your hopes and feast on your memories. It had a sweet tooth that was for certain, only targeting happy memories as it kept you with the bad ones.

did you ever have happy memories?

there was nothing you could do about the pestering leech. it wouldn't go away with Kalim's warmth and silver's calm. two sides of the same coin.

but no matter how many times you flipped: heads or tails, heads or tails, heads or tails would never work.

yes, you would smile, you would laugh- put on a poor show to convince yourself and others that there was nothing wrong. Everything was okay deep down and inside your twisted little mind. 

sometimes, you weren't sure who exactly you were performing for. 

"why am I scared to laugh" you remembered asking yourself one night, putting down your jester's hat for the evening. 

looking in the dusty mirror, your eyes carefully roamed your face, ticking off imperfections as you scanned every feature, scrutinizing every fold, and every slight bump on your skin. saving the most obvious imperfection for last, you finally acknowledged the brewing red horn ready to grow on the side of your forehead.

you knew it was a normal thing that teenagers of all ages experienced. but you felt especially helpless now, with the lack of beauty supplies and makeup. but with a quick brush of your hair, the brewing red horn disappeared behind some tresses of hair.

"I look like a demon"

...

"though if it was on my nose, i'd look like rudolph"

there was no punchline. yet the observation- not even an original comparison, made you laugh. 

A tiny huff puffed from your chest. though the more you imagined yourself with deer ears and a bright lobster red nose, you could feel your thoracic region start to shake. trying to push the sixth sense of judgment the walls were giving you, you forced yourself to laugh. holding onto this artificial laugh as long as you could. you hadn't laughed in a while. hadn't smiled in a minute. you'd barely look at yourself in the mirror most days.

gripping onto the vanity you watched your eyes crinkle and smile stretch. tripping and stumbling over scattered objects in your room you were still clenching your stomach nonetheless.

you felt like a tumbling tornado. clumsily tripping over everything with no set destination or concern for the things in your path. a shoe got kicked up. a pen you remembered liking got stepped and rolled on. a book you read a few nights ago kicked to the door as you set your eyes on your bed. with a few more violent acts towards inanimate objects, you carried your shaking body to bed.

this was it. you were going insane, weren't you?

all you needed was a canvas and paints and you'd truly become insane.

flopping down unceremoniously you let it linger for a second. sighing in contentment as you stared up at the ceiling.

you loved laughing, it was fun! but you were afraid to laugh, to live. remembering Kalim's quote of 'Everything is fun when you make it fun,' you wanted to scoff at his naivety. but Kalim was right.

if you made things miserable for yourself that's how they'll be.

directing your mind back to your head, you blinked owlishly.

oh. you were so caught up in the daydream you forgot you were in the hallways.

peeking through bumping shoulders, you tried looking towards the wall to check the room number.

"shit"

making a giant u-turn with as many 'excuse me's' and 'pardon me's,' you rerouted yourself back to your class. never having walked this way to class you were a bit hesitant. what if you walked by it again? what if someone is watching you and making fun of you for being a daft idiot?

breathe.

but what if you're late for class? crewel will have your hide- skin? doesn't matter what it is cause it'll be his. what if they all laugh when we're late-

we're not late yet it's only-

but when we get to class we'll be late!

perking up when you noticed the assigned numbers to your class, you weaved through the chattering sardines and beelined it to class.

no bell. no expectant crewel. no eyes besides from the easy-to-ignore front row. perfect.

the sigh you were holding in finally set itself free as you adjusted the grip of your books, and you strolled down the isles.

don't walk too fast they'll think you're strange.

but also don't walk too slow so they don't think you're lazy.

head down absent-mindedly adjusting your books, you followed your hand's cue and put your attention on a fixed thing. aka: your books.

but to your relief, you soon found your seat. with a huff, you unloaded the cargo pulled out some loose-leaf paper, and started writing.

writing what? not even you knew. but it made you look busy and that was important.

you didn't lay around in bed all day. you didn't continuously scroll through your phone to distract yourself. you didn't cry at night looking at everyone's socials, wishing it was you having fun. envy bubbling like a nasty tar in your bloodstream as you scorned everyone for having fun when you're miserbale-

"y/n!'

"oow"

sliding in next to you was silver. hair disheveled and tie ever so crooked, though he still looked really good-

pervert a voice whispered. tensing, you looked around and saw no one paying attention to your little corner.

"I tried calling you in the hallway." his boyish smile eased a beat in your rhythmic heart, only for it to take 2 more beats.

"y-you did?" you gulped.

silver nodded as he organized his books. "Yeah, but it's so chaotic and loud I'm guessing you didn't hear me" you nodded in agreement, tongue slipping over itself as you tried conjuring up an excuse.

"I- uh I'm really sorry I didn't hear you. I didn't even know you were there! I was kinda worried about not being elbowed to death." you didn't know why you were chuckling at the end but it felt scene-appropriate. you weren't sure if you believed what you told silver despite it being the truth.

was he going to refute it? was he going to give you a once over and mentally think 'how dare they ignore me' because all the diasomnia students you'd interact with had that very haughty, entitled personality?

 but to your slight dissatisfaction, silver only nodded in understanding.

"I'm real-"

"There's no-"

you both started at the same time, sharing a shy smile at the pause.

"you can go ahead" he nodded. Waving your hands, you disagreed. "you were talking first, I'm sorry, go ahead"

even though you gave the green light, silver still heisted to go. giving the air another few seconds before he started talking.

"there is no need to ask for forgiveness. I understand if you couldn't hear me, I'm not the most vocal after all. if only sebek were here" he mulled the last part. wincing at the name, you wanted to pinch yourself for slipping up. damnit you showed that you didn't like a person he was friends with- he'll hate you now. you're screwed, you screwed yourself. don't you understand that he's probably planning on running to sebek as soon as you leave? then everyone in diasomnia is going to hate you-

you nodded, tiny little yellow sponges in white shirts and red ties ran around your brain as a fire roared throughout- wherever they were inside your head.

you tried to push the flood of incoming thoughts into a box, a big red crate with a crab lock to be exact. you were feeling antsy, looking for anything to focus on besides the silver-haired upperclassman in front of you. 

sometimes you wish you were a computer. unable to feel and to only run on logic. it seems easier that way.

a thought bubble popped into your brain like an internet pop-up ad. 

did they even have computers in twisted wonderland? duh of course they do, they have phones after all.

the thought of twisted wonderland's technology started to swarm and hijack your train of thought. effectively taking out the conductor and changing its course.

did they also have an Industrial Revolution like the United States had? what was the start of it? which kingdom had it first? was there something to set off the alleged revolution? How is it the same and how is it different from your world's?

did magic have allay in it? of course, it did. but how did magic make it different than-

"y/n"

snapping your head at the familiar voice. you looked to silver. only able to take in physical information as the new conductor saw a hole in the tracks, pulling the breaks almost immediately.

"you okay there?"

slowly you nodded, as a few members of the hijacking team jumped out of the train- some ideas and questions with it.

"yeah.. sorry about that, kinda got lost in my train of thought there"

nodding with understanding, silver started talking about how he would sometimes start nodding off when he was talking to someone. half paying attention, half trying to save the train- your brain was split in half as you took in all internal and external information.

until you heard the magic words everyone loves to hear: "what were you thinking ab-"

"The Industrial Revolution"

"... pardon?"

anddd you failed, the train fell into the deep deep gorge that the tracks would normally allow the said train to glide over... but alas! they were gone! blown to smithereens as it guided the train into the deep cavern. a big explosion followed soon after. 

"dont worry about it" you brushed him off. saved by the bell as Crewel stood up, riding crop in hand yelling out orders like a drill sergeant.

silver scooted closer. you scooted back, the original distance between you two doubling. you were focused on writing your name, date etc & etc, on another loose-leaf paper.

the dreamy-eyed second-year made some noises before he knew what he was going to say. he started softly "are you okay"? but then grew slightly louder as unease set in "from... last class? I mean I know yuu told me it was a touchy subject but... i just wanted to check in"

your pencil screeched to a halt as the words 'yuu told me-' chanted in your head. it was the only thing you could focus on because what did he mean 'yuu said-'. "what did yuu say." you spoke, voice stable for the first time that morning.

silver's tongue tied itself as he fixed his hair a bit. "well..." he straightened up slightly, "after you stormed... no, escape is a better word. after you escaped the classroom yuu followed before i could. but crewel ended up stopping me before i could even move. and i asked yuu what happened the next time i saw them and asked how you were doing.. to sum it up: they told me you get nervous around new people soo"

dread set over you like a fast-approaching shadow.

oh no. he thinks you're a weird socially inept loser doesn't he? he thinks you're some kind of loser that doesn't go out weekends, weekdays, any day for all that matter. he probably makes fun of you with sebek. right?

"ah well," you cleared your throat. a lie already on the tip of your tongue "I mean it's like- a yes and no kinda thing. I didn't have a lot of guy friends when I was younger so being thrust" you thrust your hands in emphasis "into an al guys school has been quite the adjustment."

quickly, your mind conjured up a painting of a small house in a meadow filled with wildflowers. it was the only thing you could see for miles. it was a nice house with a straw roof, a smoking brick chimney, and a little garden outback. the only problem with the house is that you blew it up.

 with nuclear missiles. 

and the intensity of the blast was so strong that it created a small crater in the earth, no traces of the house were left as it's entire existence was reduced to ash and rubble all because of you.

the urge to bash your head into the nearest wall like intruding hornets slipping through a crack in an attic to terrorize a small family. there goes your social life right?? what soil life? you killed it before you could even nurture it!

your mouth and mind were running on autopilot while your conscience went blank.

your mouth was a fountain that spewed water everywhere. trying to get yourself out of the hole you dug yourself- crater, more specifically.

"but uhhh yeah, no you're good! you're different and I'm quite glad I got partnered with you since you're not as..."

"boisterous?" silver quipped.

you nodded. silver chuckled, leaning further away from you. "yeah me too. if I got paired with one of your friends only the sevens know how much damage that'll do to my physical and mental well-being"

you both discreetly looked over at the rest of the class watching as all pairs seemed to be in some kind of chaos. whether it's floyd being impulsive, grim trying to add the wrong chemical into a potion. (you didn't even need to know what they were making to know that whatever he's trying to sneak in- doesn't belong there.)

and you were thanking whatever god the people of twisted wonderland worshipped that you weren't paired with one of the adeuce combo. ace would try to take control of the project, pretending he knew what he was doing while simultaneously giving you backhanded compliments on your intelligence. only to ruin the entire project and somehow find a way to blame you for it. 

meanwhile, deuce and you would be two peas in a squished pod: not knowing what you're supposed to be doing and ultimately winging it as you tried to match your hot barbie pink potion to crewel's muted blush potion. knowing the both of you, it would end up navy blue and when crewel went to fix it he would add a pinch of fleabane- a literal pinch, and it'd be fixed. embarrassing the both of you for all eternity.

"I wonder which group is gonna blow up the lab first mused quick to shut your lips, you were quick to wish for a sewing kit to forcefully shut you up.

but a small voice whispered 'it's better to take risks than stay comfortable.'

and silver seemed... nice.

silver looked out at the crowd for a moment longer, turning to you he started slowly, "while the yuu, grim, and ace trio seem to be the most obvious choice...." he thought carefully, "epel and deuce seem to be at a loss of what to do and are about 6 shade off. which surprised me since epel is in pomfiore"

"he's actually sh- really-" you started again, taking a moment to think over what you were going to say "I heard that epel's not that great at potions despite being under vil's careful watch...." silver's eyes widened, replying with a soft 'really?' as he looked back to the groups with newfound interest.

you to yourself "never judge a book by its cover" you shrugged, immediately turning to your work. anxiously, you waited for a response. 

although circumstances are vastly different- is this how people felt when in the talking stage? if so it was a dreadful experience. 

before your pessimistic thoughts could even start, silver responded with a chuckle, enviably agreeing with your statement. you could almost sweat with relief as an invisible weight got lifted from your shoulders.

silver seems nice...

a new voice, meek and unsteady although louder than the usual pessestimic ones in control. and for once, you allowed yourself to feel the slight comfortable tingle it gave you.

the hope and drive to that you haven't felt or experienced in a while.

you wished to get closer to him.

taglist : @abell2029cluster @a1-ic3 @ars-tral @xingyunny @creamsweets @skei2p @dn4su @jjsmeowthie @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @nefe-kav @d3sperate-enuf @y2unagiz @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @mel-star636 @7yu @lucky-whispers

[jackiepackiee]

I have a request! Can we have atsushi, dazai, ranpo, chuuya (+yasano, if desired you can cut out some characters) with a fem!ballerina s/o

ex: does big roles, (giselle, black swan, clara) and their opinions about her profession. ty!

𝐵𝒮𝒟 𝓍 𝐵𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒶! 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲/ 𝒜𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾, 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾, 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓅𝑜, 𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒴𝑜𝓈𝒶𝓃𝑜

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 - 𝒩𝒶𝓊𝓇

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈

Atsushi Nakajima

Whipped

You’re dating for a bit, and he’s seen your practice

But when you invite him to the stage door for a quick good luck kiss before his first show, he’s in AWE

Your costume?! He almost dies

You’re perfect!

(His fav is Sleeping beauty when you’re Aurora)

So when he finally sees you on stage, music and lights and dance

He almost passes out

If it wasn’t for the fact he had to watch you, he would’ve gotten some air

He’s just so in love

He loves to come to rehearsal

So well behaved, completely silent

Just watching you the entire time, in amazement

He doesn’t have money to offer for costumes or lessons, but he will be the biggest supporter in your life

He is however confused by everything

He isn’t very artisticlly intellectual…

And when you first break in your shoes, he screams

He thought you were wasting money and destroying them… if only he knew

He’ll give you massaged each night after shows, especially if you also had a matinee

Dazai Osamu

He is no longer as serious, but he will become the most reserved and mature gentleman you know when he sees your shows

People will think he’s a regular at these events, and everything will look at him with awe

And his attention will only be on you

Obviously he’s going to look at the other performers, but his eyes are glued on you

Secretly bored when you’re not on stage

He’ll see you, but after that he is childish again

Picking you up into his arms, probably coughing from the smell of hairspray in your hair

“Gosh, I can’t breathe! Your hair is perfect, but this is too much.”

And if the ADA happens to be there too? Don’t be surprised

He is always talking about you when work is boring

Atsushi thinks it’s the coolest, and is looking at your like you’re a goddess

(He’s like your son, and he looks up to you. Dazai loves that)

Back to ballet, he will kiss your cheek

But nothing else, he hates to ruin your makeup

And when you come home after?

He holds you all night after a show

He’s a master at anatomy and will massage you your body in every place needed

Before show texts “break a leg, but not actually! Cant wait!”

Overall? A fan, but more of a lover

Ranpo Edogawa

Most people think Ranpo has no attention span, and they’re mostly right…

But! He is fully able to focus on your performance

Loves your darker roles

But that’s mostly because he thinks that darker characters have more depth

This man is a thinker, and while he loves your dancing he prefers the story

And adores the way you are able to tell a story or send a message by your body movement

He loves more feminine roles too, but he appreciates your beauty more than he can focus

That’s the only reason he can stand the shows

Because he can obviously tell the entire story before the first dance sequence is over

You shine on that stage, and he’s infatuated

His eyes are OPEN

After your show, he’ll smile like a little kid

That maturity he had at the show? Gone, he’s himself again

Loves the shows about mysteries

This guy will ask Poe to write a show, and have him hire a choreographer to make a new shoe just for you to star in and for him to enjoy the story

His childish behavior is love, and intense affection because he’s so happy with how well you did

He praises you, so take it

He doesn’t do that for anyone else

Chuuya Nakahara

Classier than ever

Goes to each show with a box seat, sitting alone or with Koyo

Everyone thinks “oh, that guy is so mysterious”

Thinks you’re literally a light in his life

A bright beauty in his dark world

And when you walk onto that stage, he is focused on you like a hawk

Not scary, but such attention to detail that his stare is unbreaking

Not looking at a single other performer, unlessss they are your friend and you tell him about them when you’re rambling about your rehearsals

He’ll give them a glance, but only because he wants to be ready for every single topic of conversation you may wish to have

And when you’re done? He tells you to come out to see him in your costume, even if your director doesn’t allow that

He’s Chuuya Nakahara, he gets what he wants from anyone

He wants to give you a kiss when you look like a doll, dressed up perfectly

He hugs you, and tells you every time

“You were incredible. Go get more comfortable darling, I’ll wait outside the backstage. We will talk in the car. Maybe a little treat is waiting?”

The treat is always exactly what you want

Necklaces? Dress? Tickets to something? It’s there, at the moment you would love it most

Always helps you wash your hair when you get home

Running warm water in his fancy shower, hands making quick work on your hair and all the products that held it together

Will buy one of those high tech foot massagers for when you’re done

He hates how you’re in pain

And will do anything to make you feel better

Because you’re perfect, and he loves you

Yosano Akiko

Brags to each and EVERY member of the agency

Makes all of them attended at least one show

(Her favorite is black swan, you’re just sexy in that one 🤷🏻‍♀️)

If you could see her from on stage while you’re preforming (obviously you can’t) you’d see her paying more attention to you than she has to anything in her entire life

You’re the dainty and sweet girlfriend, and she’s your badass man-killer woman

She is incredible at anatomy, and gives you the best tips on warming up

Best ways to strengthen and grow your muscles without getting larger

Ugh, she’ll put her hands on your waist while teaching you how to twist and turn to stretch a certain way

You know how she loves shopping?

She will make at least one date a month a shopping date

Making sure to buy the most high tech and recommend leotards for practice

New shoes that need breaking in?

She owns at least 14 hammers

Nails? Gone. Foot board? Snapped into shape.

Thinks you’re PERFECT but is the best shot talker of the others?

The girl who thinks she deserved the lead, but didn’t get it so she hates on you?

Yeah, a glass of wine and Akiko will tear that girl to shreds with insults

But she’s supportive!!

Pretty girlfriend x sexy girlfriend life

[bonezone44]

but pervy roller derby coach joel and seasoned derby girl fucking in joels truck after a bout when ezra finds them with the windows all fogged up… ofc he joins in

You fucking know it!

Roller Derby Coach!Joel Miller x F!Reader x Boyfriend!Ezra

tags: unprotected p-in-v, double creampie, Ezra and Joel being spiteful towards one another. praise, degredation, use of the word "whore" but in a sexy way

--

He wanted to offer you a personal congratulations after helping your Jammer get point after point, resulting in your team's win. 157 to 163. It was a close one and your offense is what made the difference. Joel lost count of how many times you knocked the opposing Jammer off the track, running them back and killing their spirit. He's surprised you still have any energy left after all that work.

But here you are in his truck with him, bouncing on his cock like it's nothing. You got nothing on but your sports bra and youre soaked in sweat with your gear airing out in his flat bed.

Then Ezra’s wandering around the parking lot outside the rink, wondering where the hell you are because there's an after party to go to. And he already smoked a couple joints with the referees, and you still hadn't appeared. Then he sees the foggy window, the way the truck is bouncing, and he can't help but creep closer. His whole body floods with heat when he sees your gear. He looks around, sees if anybody has eyes on him before opening up the passenger door.

"Shit!" Joel curses.

You both stop in a panic. Your hands gripping his biceps to stabilize yourself.

Ezra's all smiles. "You don't think she's done enough work tonight, Coach?" He chuckles at your silent, shocked faces. He climbs inside and shuts the door behind him. "Our superstar here requires appreciation. Not more strain on her supremely effective musculature." He crawls closer.

"How 'boutchu--" Joel begins.

Ezra wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss.

Joel’s hands are still tight on your hips. Watching Ezra's tongue meet yours makes his cock twitch and pisses him off at the same time. He grunts.

Ezra's hazy eyes slide over to Joel's after he pulls away from you. "How 'bout I what, Joel?"

Joel snarls and shoves Ezra back with a broad palm to his chest. "How 'boutchu see with your eyes and not with your hands?" He turns back to you. "She's mine right now, and I ain't gonna let you touch her 'til I'm done with her."

Ezra chuckles and undoes his pants, pulling his hardening cock out. "Go ahead and fill her up good, then." He smirks and begins to stroke himself. "Patience is a virtue, and although I am far from a virtuous man, I have been known to wander briefly on the path of the principled." He breaths deeply through his nose, taking in the smell of sweat and sex. "A path more easily endured when enticed by heavenly rewards."

Joel rolls his eyes. "Does he ever shut the fuck up?"

Ezra chuckles again. "You best make haste, old man, before that little blue pill wears off and you go softer than an ice cream cone in the Fourth of July sunshine."

Joel smirks at Ezra and shakes his head. He turns back to you, his hands slide up your sides, grip your breasts through your bra. "You ever seen me take a pill?"

"No," you shake your head. You're so overwhelmed by the situation, you're surprised you were able to say anything at all. And Joel's strong fingers are working your chest, working the muscles in your hips and thighs.

"I don't need no pill," he says with a haughty grin, thrusting up into you. "I don't need her to ride me, neither," he adds for good measure. "I can make her come with my cock alone." He holds you still and you angle your hips slightly as his own hips jump in the seat. "Come on, baby. Show 'im how good this cock is. Come on, now."

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and dig your face into his neck, moaning and keening with every strong thrust. You hear Ezra moaning, too. You turn your head to the side and see him panting, biting his lips. He goes from jerking himself off to squeezing his cock at the base and shaking it, staving off his orgasm with a desperate look on his face. It's all so much, you're sent over the edge--your orgasm barely noticable amidst Joel's relentless assault. How can you come down when everything around you is still building and escalating?

"Gonna fill this pussy up, now," Joel groans. His meaty claws close and spread your asscheeks as he begins to grind into you.

You try to remind yourself to breathe as you squeeze him tighter, whimpering and panting.

"Gonna give you all this come," he groans again and you feel a rush of warmth inside of you.

"Come here, baby," you hear Ezra speak up. "Lemme feel that." And before you know it, you're in Ezra's lap. His cock slides readily into yours and he pants and moans pathetically. "Oh fuck, oh shit, oh shit, baby. That's so good." His hips are barely moving as he holds you close against him, but the squelch of your messy pussy is loud. "Mmmm-that's so good. that's that good shit right there. Oh fuck, baby. Gonna fill you up, too. Mmhmm--gonna give you that sloppy cunt, huh? You like that, baby?" His eyes go wide and you're locked in, nodding and agreeing to whatever he says. "You like bein naughty? You like being filthy?"

At this point, it doesn't matter what either of them say. You'll agree to just about anything that comes out of their mouths--and their cocks.

"Fuckin filthy," he mutters with a snarl and brings his hand down to your ass with a harsh, solid slap. "Fuckin filthy whore. Nnnngg---" He comes inside of you.

You feel dizzy. Spent. Tired. Dazed. You should probably hydrate soon. And you wonder if anyone else on the team is looking for the three of you. You hope Joel has some napkins somewhere in his car, but you're not too worried because you have a pack of wet wipes in your gear bag. You never thought you'd use them for something like this, but... so it goes.

No one suspects a single thing at the after party. You throw back a few shots with your teammates and leg wrestle on the bar floor. You dance to the salsa music someone is playing on the juke box. You consider doing those pelvic floor exercises you saw on youtube once.

------------

a/n: I love life and I love being alive.

[pin-k-ink]

(Since you were asking for a thirst HAHDNDJDNDSN)

My man (Fukuzawa) has few smut here in tumblr, he needs justice.

And I needed to be manhandled by that fine dilf.

— 🌊🪷

crucible // fukuzawa yukichi

tw ⇢ jealous!fukuzawa, possessive!fukuzawa, so much sexual tension, fukuzawa in denial, making out, teasing, office sex, sir kink cx its fukuzawa, rough sex, manhandling ofc, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, creampie, dirty talk, spanking

wc ⇢ 5.2k

a/n: anon, you just reawakened my love for fictional characters nearly twice my age

The oppressive August heat blanketed Yokohama, the air heavy and thick, clinging to your skin like a damp cloth. In the offices of the Armed Detective Agency, the ancient air conditioner wheezed and rattled, providing little relief from the sweltering temperatures. Beads of sweat gathered at your brow and trickled down the back of your neck as you sat at your desk, trying to focus on the stack of case files in front of you.

But your mind kept drifting, your thoughts inevitably drawn to the Agency's distinguished leader, Yukichi Fukuzawa. From the moment you'd started working here, you'd been captivated by him - his sophisticated air, his commanding presence, the way his steely gaze seemed to pierce right through you. It was more than just physical attraction, though that was certainly part of it. There was something about him, an aura of power and control, that drew you like a moth to a flame.

You knew it was risky, knew that getting involved with your boss was a recipe for disaster. But you couldn't help yourself. Every interaction with him left you wanting more, your skin buzzing with a kind of electric anticipation.

It started small, innocently enough. A smile that lingered just a beat too long, a brush of fingers as you handed him a file. But as the months went by, you grew bolder, more overt in your flirtations.

Each morning, you greeted Fukuzawa with a smile that bordered on coy, your voice low and honeyed. "Good morning, sir," you'd purr, leaning in just a little too close as you handed him his daily schedule. The subtle widening of his eyes, the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, was all the encouragement you needed.

You started putting more effort into your appearance, choosing blouses that hugged your curves, skirts that fell just an inch shorter than was strictly professional. You told yourself it wasn't for him, that you just wanted to feel good about yourself. But deep down, you knew the truth. You wanted him to notice you, to feel the weight of his gaze on your skin.

And notice he did. You'd catch him watching you as you moved around the office, his eyes following the sway of your hips, lingering on the exposed slice of skin at your throat. His face would remain impassive, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers would tighten around his pen.

It became a kind of game, a forbidden dance of push and pull. You'd lean over his desk to point out a detail in a report, letting your blouse gape open just enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. You'd brush past him in the hallway, your hand grazing his arm, letting the contact linger a moment longer than necessary.

Each small victory sent a thrill through you, a heady rush of power. You were getting to him, chipping away at that legendary self-control. It was only a matter of time before he snapped.

But it wasn't enough. The more you got, the more you wanted. Stolen glances and fleeting touches only fanned the flames of your desire, leaving you aching and restless. You found yourself daydreaming during the long, humid afternoons, your mind conjuring up vivid fantasies of Fukuzawa's hands on your body, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin. You'd imagine him bending you over his desk, his fingers digging into your hips as he finally fucked you, claiming you as his own.

The fantasies were so real, so visceral, that you'd often snap out of them flushed and breathless, your heart racing and your pussy throbbing with need. You'd clench your thighs together, trying to quell the ache, but it was never enough. You wanted him, needed him, with an intensity that frightened and exhilarated you in equal measure.

And so, you started pushing harder, growing bolder in your advances. Determined to shatter his iron self-control, to make him admit that he wanted you just as desperately as you wanted him.

You began openly flirting with the other men in the office, particularly Atsushi, the youngest and most naive of the bunch. You'd perch on the edge of his desk, leaning in close as you pointed out details in case files, letting your breasts brush against his arm. You'd laugh just a little too loudly at his jokes, tossing your hair over your shoulder and fixing him with a dazzling smile.

And all the while, you'd feel Fukuzawa's gaze burning into your back, his eyes tracking your every move. You'd see his jaw clench, his fist tighten at his side, and a dark thrill would course through you. He was jealous, you could tell. The knowledge was intoxicating.

Late one sweltering evening, as you were leaving the office, you suddenly felt Fukuzawa's hand close around your wrist. Before you could respond, he was guiding you into his office and shutting the door behind you. Your heart raced at his proximity, the air practically crackling between you.

"Your behavior has been quite inappropriate," he said in a low voice, his eyes boring into yours. "If you continue this way, there will be consequences."

His gaze drifted to your lips and for a wild, breathless moment, you were sure he was going to kiss you. But then he released you and took a measured step back, leaving you dizzy and aching for more.

In the days that followed, the memory of that charged moment in Fukuzawa's office lingered, a constant distraction. Your skin prickled with awareness whenever he was near, your body attuned to his presence like a tuning fork. You tried to focus on your work, but your mind kept conjuring up the phantom sensation of his fingers wrapped around your wrist, the heat of his gaze on your mouth.

You dialed back on your flirtations with the other men, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop teasing Fukuzawa. If anything, you became bolder, more overt in your intentions. You started staying late at the office, finding excuses to be alone with him. In the evenings, when the rest of the staff had gone home, you'd slip into his office with flimsy pretexts, perching on the edge of his desk and leaning in close as you spoke.

During one such encounter, emboldened by the late hour and the intimacy of the dimly lit room, you placed your hand over his as you pointed out a detail in a case file. Fukuzawa stilled, his eyes flickering to yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his hand over beneath yours, his palm hot against your own.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he said quietly, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His fingers curled around yours, just for a moment, before he drew away.

You knew he was right, knew that you were both wading into treacherous waters. But you were too far gone to turn back now, too intoxicated by the simmering tension that coiled between you.

As the summer heat rose, so did the stakes of your forbidden dance. Stolen glances turned into fleeting caresses, plausible deniability becoming paper-thin. The air grew heavy with unspoken desire, with the tantalizing promise of what could be.

And then, one storm-dark night, the levee finally broke.

You were working late again, poring over witness statements, when the power suddenly cut out. The office was plunged into darkness, the only illumination coming from the occasional flash of lightning outside the rain-lashed windows. You heard Fukuzawa's office door open, heard his measured footsteps approaching.

"The whole block is out," he said, his tall silhouette appearing in your doorway. "We might as well call it a night."

You nodded, your tongue suddenly feeling too thick for your mouth. A strange anticipation crackled through you as you gathered your things by feel, every nerve ending alight. You startled when you felt Fukuzawa's hand on the small of your back, guiding you out into the pitch-black hallway.

In the darkness, every sensation was magnified. The sound of your breathing, the warm press of his palm against your spine, the electric awareness of his body mere inches from yours. Your heart was beating so loudly, you were certain he must hear it.

And then, between one step and the next, Fukuzawa halted. His hand slid slowly up your back, his fingers curling around your nape. You turned to face him, dizzy with want, scarcely daring to breathe.

For a long, suspended moment, you hovered there in the charged darkness. The air felt thick, weighted with expectation. You could just make out the gleam of Fukuzawa's eyes, could feel the tension emanating from him in waves.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice rough as gravel, "and I will."

But you didn't want him to stop. You wanted him to keep going, to finally unleash the pent-up hunger that had been consuming you for months. Throwing caution to the wind, you closed the last breath of distance between you and captured his lips with your own...

Heart pounding, you melted into Fukuzawa's embrace, your lips moving feverishly against his. His mouth was hot and insistent, his strong hands gripping your hips as he backed you up against the wall. You gasped as your back hit the cool surface, the contrast with your overheated skin sending sparks rushing through you.

Fukuzawa took advantage of your parted lips, deepening the kiss with a low groan that reverberated through your body. You clung to his broad shoulders, dizzy with sensation, your head spinning with the headiness of finally, finally having him exactly where you'd wanted him for so long.

His hands roamed your curves possessively, setting you alight even through the barrier of your clothing. His hands slid up your thighs, under your skirt, his fingers digging into your flesh. Dimly, you registered the rasp of his stubble against your skin, the throaty sounds of desire he made as he kissed you senseless. It was better than anything you had imagined, the reality of him overwhelming your every sense.

Lost in a haze of lust, it took you a moment to realize that Fukuzawa had suddenly stilled. His lips broke away from yours and he drew back slightly, his breath coming harsh and fast. Confusion cut through the fog of your arousal as he grasped your shoulders and gently but firmly set you away from him.

"We can't do this," he said, his voice strained. Even in the darkness, you could see the conflict etched on his face. "It's not right."

"What?" you managed, your kiss-bruised lips still tingling, your body thrumming with need. "But I thought-"

"This is a mistake," Fukuzawa cut you off, running a hand distractedly through his hair. "I'm your superior. I have a responsibility to maintain professional boundaries. No matter how much I..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. This ends now, before it goes any further."

You felt like he'd doused you in ice water, shock and hurt warring within you. You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. Your throat felt tight, your eyes stinging with the sudden threat of tears.

Fukuzawa exhaled heavily, his expression pained. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have let it get this far. It won't happen again."

And with that, he turned and strode away, leaving you alone in the dark hallway, your lips still swollen from his kisses, your heart in shreds at your feet. You hugged your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling chilled despite the muggy heat.

The storm raged on outside, rain lashing against the windows, wind rattling the panes. But it was nothing compared to the tempest inside you - a maelstrom of frustration, rejection, and an ache so sharp it stole your breath.

How were you supposed to face him after this, knowing how good it could be between you, only to have it snatched away? How could you just forget the searing press of his mouth, the urgency of his touch?

Somehow, you'd have to find a way to lock down your treacherous heart, to bury your desire so deep that even you couldn't feel it anymore. The alternative - pining for a man you couldn't have, burning for his forbidden touch - was unthinkable.

But as you finally turned to leave, your legs unsteady beneath you, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over. That the undeniable pull between you and Fukuzawa was too powerful to be extinguished by duty or propriety.

One way or another, you knew you'd end up back in his arms. It was only a matter of time.

In the days following your heated encounter with Fukuzawa in the darkened office, you couldn't stop thinking about the electrifying feel of his lips on yours, the urgent press of his body against your own. The memory seared through you at the most inopportune moments, leaving you aching and distracted.

Though a part of you knew you should heed Fukuzawa's words and maintain a professional distance, you found yourself incapable of letting go. If anything, his rejection only fanned the flames of your desire, your need to prove yourself irresistible. You became utterly determined to shatter his iron self-control.

You began putting extra effort into your appearance each morning, choosing outfits that clung to your curves, leaving tantalizing slices of skin bare. You made sure to bend over just so when placing documents on his desk, relishing the way his eyes would follow the lines of your body before he caught himself.

In meetings, you started openly staring at him, your gaze heated and unwavering. You'd trace your lower lip with the tip of your pen, gratified to see his eyes dart to your mouth, his fingers tightening imperceptibly on his pen. Under the guise of friendly touches, you'd graze your fingers along his arm or shoulder, feeling the way he'd tense at the contact.

But you didn't limit your newfound boldness to Fukuzawa. You dialed your flirtations up with all the men in the office. You'd perch on the edge of their desks, crossing your legs so your skirt rode up just a little too high. You'd casually touch their hands or face while laughing at their jokes, tossing your hair over your shoulder coquettishly.

All the while, you could feel the weight of Fukuzawa's stare boring into you, his jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with a potent mix of disapproval and barely suppressed jealousy. You reveled in his attention, positive reinforcement for your provocative behavior.

Late one night, as you were once again working overtime, you decided to up the ante. Slipping out of your heels, you padded silently to Fukuzawa's office, easing the door open without knocking. He glanced up sharply from his paperwork, his eyes widening when he saw you leaning against the door frame.

You smiled, slow and feline, stalking towards Fukuzawa's desk with deliberate sways of your hips. Each step seemed to echo in the charged silence of the dimly lit office. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken desire and anticipation. You could feel Fukuzawa's gaze on you, tracking your every movement with an intensity that made your skin prickle with heat.

As you reached his desk, you placed your palms flat on the polished wood, leaning forward slightly. The action caused your blouse to gape open just a little, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. You heard Fukuzawa's sharp intake of breath, saw his eyes flicker down for the briefest of moments before he wrenched them back up to your face.

"What are you doing here so late?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled.

"I thought you could use some company," you purred, your voice low and sultry. "And I had a few...questions about the case."

Fukuzawa's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His hands, resting on the desk, curled into fists as if he was physically restraining himself from reaching for you. "It's late," he said, his tone carefully measured, but you could hear the undercurrent of strain beneath the words. "Any questions can wait until morning."

Undeterred by his dismissal, you circled around the desk, trailing your fingertips along the smooth surface. Fukuzawa watched you warily, his body tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. When you reached his side, you perched yourself on the edge of the desk, crossing your legs slowly, deliberately. The hem of your skirt rode up, revealing a tantalizing expanse of thigh, the lacy edge of your stockings just peeking out.

Fukuzawa's gaze followed the movement, his eyes darkening with barely suppressed hunger. His hands clenched on the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking under the force of his grip. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him, the air between your bodies crackling with electricity.

Emboldened by his reaction, you leaned in closer, placing your hand on his thigh. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly. "But I want your input now, boss," you breathed, your lips just inches from his ear. "I'm sure we can find a way to...stimulate some insights."

For a long, suspended moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the ragged tempo of your breathing, the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears. Fukuzawa seemed frozen, torn between the compulsion to maintain his professionalism and the undeniable pull of his desire. You could see the conflicting emotions warring in his eyes, the desperate struggle for control.

Then, in a sudden flurry of movement, Fukuzawa surged to his feet. His chair clattered backwards, forgotten, as he gripped you by the upper arms, hauling you up with him. Before you could even gasp, he had spun you around, pressing you up against the wall with the solid heat of his body.

Your breath left you in a rush as your back hit the hard surface, your chest heaving against his. Fukuzawa's hands slid down to your wrists, pinning them beside your head as he loomed over you, his face inches from yours. His eyes were wild, almost black in the low light, boring into you with an intensity that made you tremble.

"You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?" he rasped, his voice rough and gravelly with barely leashed hunger. "You're determined to drive me to madness."

Your lips parted, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but it dissolved into a soft moan as Fukuzawa ducked his head, his mouth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. A shudder rippled through you at the contact, heat pooling low in your belly. You arched into him instinctively, craving more, desperate for the feel of his hands, his lips on your body.

"I only want to drive you to honesty," you managed to gasp out, your fingers threading through his silver hair, holding him to you. "Admit it - you want me as badly as I want you."

Fukuzawa groaned against your throat, the sound vibrating through you like a tuning fork. His grip on your wrists tightened reflexively as he fought for control, his breath coming in harsh pants against your skin. "We shouldn't," he ground out, even as his hips pressed more insistently into yours, betraying the depth of his need. "It's wrong. But..."

You writhed against him, desperate for more friction, more contact. "But what?" you prompted breathlessly, already knowing the answer but needing to hear him say it.

Fukuzawa raised his head, his eyes locking with yours. In their depths, you saw the last vestiges of his resistance crumble, the iron bands of his control shattering like spun glass. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, weighted with promise and dark, delicious threat.

"But...I can no longer stand by while you openly flaunt yourself at every available man in this office," he growled, his gaze dropping hungrily to your parted lips as if he was resisting the urge to claim them with his own. "No more games, no more teasing. You're mine, and I intend to make sure you never forget it."

You felt a delicious shiver rush through you at his tone - was this the unraveling you had been hoping to provoke? Boldly holding his smoldering stare, you replied, "Is that so? And what’re you going to do to me...Sir?"

A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw as he seemed to wrestle with his self-restraint. Then, quicker than you could react, his hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back roughly.

"This..." he growled an instant before crushing his mouth against yours in a searing, hungry kiss.

You gasped at the ferocity of his passion, all the built-up tension he had been holding back now pouring into his ardent caresses. Your hands clutched at the front of his kimono as you met his fervor with your own desperate want.

Your fingers fumbled with the fabric as your mouth hungrily moved against his. He groaned into the searing kiss, the vibration sending sparks of need coursing through your veins. You managed to part the fabric enough to rake your nails over his toned chest, relishing in the way his muscles twitched at your touch.

Fukuzawa broke away with a ragged breath, his forehead pressed against yours as he gazed at you with molten eyes. "You've tormented me for far too long with your wanton behavior," he murmured, his voice strained with restrained desire. "Did you think I was blind to the way you paraded about, taunting me?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but any retort was swallowed by another kiss. This time he didn't hold back, pinning you firmly against the wall as one calloused hand boldly skimmed over the curve of your hip and thigh, squeezing your ass. You shuddered and arched shamelessly into his touch, silently pleading for him to continue his intoxicating exploration.

He trailed scorching open-mouth kisses along the column of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your sensitized skin. "Perhaps now you'll learn there are consequences for playing with fire," Fukuzawa rasped, his husky tone and the roll of his hips against yours making you dizzy with longing.

With your pussy throbbing and breath coming in shallow pants, you sought purchase by clutching at the broad planes of his back. All this time you had been determined to make this unshakable man crack - but now that he had, you were overwhelmed by the force of his smoldering passion. You wanted to drown in it, consequences be damned.

Fukuzawa's normally immaculate appearance was in delicious disarray - his kimono hanging open, hair tousled from your roaming hands. He pinned you with a look that made your insides liquify as his large, calloused hands skimmed over the bare skin of your thighs and lower back.

"Look at the temptress now," he rumbled, his voice husky and laced with want. "So responsive to my touch after batting those pretty lashes at every other man here."

You opened your mouth to respond, but only a breathy whimper escaped as Fukuzawa rolled his hips firmly against yours, allowing you to feel the undeniable hardness of his cock. Heat lanced through your cunt at the delicious friction.

"I should have acted on this long ago," he murmured against the sensitive skin just below your ear. "Shown you exactly where your teasing leads..."

His words had you trembling with heady anticipation. You fisted your hands in his kimono, tugging him even closer as your pulse thundered in your ears. "Then show me," you managed to rasp, throwing caution to the wind.

Fukuzawa's intense gaze searched yours for a molten moment before he captured your lips in another searing, demanding kiss. His large hands cradled you almost reverently as he walked you backwards towards the sofa, your sense of surroundings fading until there was only the roaring need between your entwined bodies.

With a resolute tug, your clothing began to peel away, his fiery caresses branding your bare skin as you finally surrendered to the lust that had been simmering for far too long. The air was thick and heavy with the weight of your desire, the office silent save for the mingled sounds of your heated breaths and moans.

The sofa bumped against the back of your legs and you tumbled onto it, gazing up at the imposing man towering over you. Even in this compromising position, Fukuzawa radiated authority, his gaze dark and intent as he drank in the sight of your naked, sprawled form.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he rasped, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his barely leashed control.

You could hardly breathe, your heart pounding as his burning gaze devoured every inch of your exposed flesh. He knelt between your legs and you could only watch, entranced, as his rough hands skimmed slowly over your trembling thighs.

"Such a tempting little vixen, teasing her superior," he continued, his voice low and gravelly. "And now she's finally within reach."

He parted your legs further, his thumbs tracing torturous circles on the tender skin of your inner thighs. "I'm going to show you exactly what happens to girls who flaunt themselves."

You shivered as his breath ghosted over your damp folds. The anticipation was torture, the aching need between your legs throbbing with each passing moment. He continued to torture you, peppering kisses all across the taut skin of your inner thighs.

Then, just when you thought you couldn't stand it anymore, Fukuzawa's tongue dragged along your slit. You arched into him with a startled moan, his large hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place. His tongue delved deeper, slipping right between your soaked folds.

"Oh God," you whimpered, fisting your hands in his silver hair as pleasure coiled within you, winding tighter and tighter.

"That's right," he rumbled against your slick pussy lips. "I want to hear every sound you make."

His words were punctuated by the firm press of his tongue against your clit, sending a bolt of electricity arcing through you. Your head fell back against the sofa, a cry of pleasure escaping as he licked and sucked at the swollen bud.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, the pleasure so intense it was almost overwhelming. You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, every muscle coiling tight, desperate for release.

Then, just as you were about to cum, Fukuzawa pulled away. You whined in protest, the loss of his hot mouth on your dripping pussy nearly painful.

"Not yet," he said, his voice thick and hoarse with arousal. "I'm not finished with you yet."

With a strength that sent another surge of heat to your core, he flipped you onto your stomach, his hand pushing the small of your back to arch your ass into the air. Your breath caught as you felt him kneeling behind you, his thick length pressing teasingly against your folds.

"You have no idea how many nights l've imagined doing this to you," Fukuzawa growled, the head of his cock sliding slowly up and down your soaked pussy. "How many times l've had to stop myself from bending you over my desk and fucking you senseless."

You moaned and wriggled against him, desperate for him to fill you. "Please, Yukichi," you gasped, his name slipping past your lips without thinking.

At the sound of his name, he grinned widely, one hand coming up to swiftly slap your rear. "You will address me as 'sir'."

Another, harder, smack had you whimpering, the stinging sensation reverberating through your core. "Yes, Sir," you breathed, fingers baring a white-knuckled grip on the couch cushions.

He teased your folds with his cock, his hand kneading your reddened flesh. "Good girl," he murmured, watching the mushroom head of his cock disappear between your puffy lips.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of teasing, he gripped his thick length and guided it to your slick entrance. You moaned as the tip slid into your cunt, your walls stretching deliciously around his girth.

"God, you're tight," he groaned, slowly easing himself deeper.

You gasped as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. The feeling of being so full, so stretched, was exquisite. You pushed back against him, wanting more.

With a deep groan, Fukuzawa began moving inside you, his thrusts slow and deep. He built a steady rhythm, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours was obscene, echoing in the quiet office. Pleasure coiled tighter within you, the tension ratcheting higher and higher with each thrust.

You could hear him grunting with exertion, the soft, guttural sounds of his pleasure driving you wild. The heat, the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of being fucked by the man who had consumed your every waking thought for months was almost too much to bear.

"Sir. Yukichi…fuck!" You gasped, your words dissolving into incoherence as his cock rubbed against that sweet spot deep inside you.

He grunted, his thrusts growing faster, more erratic. "Say my name again," he growled, his voice strained.

"Yukichi," you moaned, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

At the sound of his name, he groaned, his cock throbbing within you. He pounded into you harder, his fingers digging into your hips almost painfully.

You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, the wave of pleasure cresting inside you.

Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, his thumb found your clit, circling and rubbing the swollen nub.

That was all it took. You came with a wail, your walls clamping down on his thick cock. Your vision whited out as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, rippling through your entire body.

As you trembled through the aftershocks, Fukuzawa continued to fuck you, his pace erratic, his breathing ragged. He groaned as his cock pulsed within you, spilling his hot release.

He paused for a moment, his weight holding you down before he slowly pulled his hips back, letting his softening cock slip out of your cunt. He hissed softly as he watched his seed slowly seep out of you, unable to resist the urge to use his fingers to push it back where it belonged.

The room was filled with the sound of your labored breathing, the air heavy with the scent of cum and sweat.

You were spent, your body languid and boneless in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. Fukuzawa gathered you tenderly into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he settled onto the sofa. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as he held you close.

For a long moment, you simply sat there together, catching your breath, your racing hearts gradually slowing. The silence between you was comfortable, weighted with the significance of what had just transpired.

Eventually, Fukuzawa shifted, pressing a kiss to your temple before murmuring in your ear, "Come home with me."

You pulled back slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's wise?" you asked, a hint of playfulness in your voice despite the seriousness of the question.

Fukuzawa's mouth quirked up at the corner, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and determination. "Probably not," he admitted, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your bare shoulder. "But I find myself throwing wisdom to the wind where you're concerned."

You couldn't help but smile at that, a rush of affection and exhilaration coursing through you. This was uncharted territory, a leap into the unknown. But the thought of not taking that leap, of letting this chance slip through your fingers, was unthinkable.

"Well then," you said, your decision made, "lead the way."

Fukuzawa's grin widened, his hand tightening on your hip. "With pleasure."

[cottonlemonade]

A Simpler Life [Part 1]

word count: 1585 || avg. reading time: 7 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: In pursuit of a calmer, simpler life you flee the city to move to the countryside - only to fall in love with your neighbor.

____________________________________________

When you decided on a clean break and moved to the little country home, you finally got your long harbored wish of a manageable veggie patch as well as a few fruit planters, breathing clear fresh air that the city life had you only dream about for so many years. At first, of course, the people were suspicious of the newcomer - the foreigner-city girl who came to their part of Hyogo with no clear intention but when you greeted each of them warmly around town and offered an open door if anyone ever needed help, they soon treated you as one of their own. The grandmothers of the neighborhood soon kept an eye out for any eligible bachelors because “it‘d be such a shame if a pretty girl like ya would be all lonesome in that house of yers“ but while grateful for their concern, you were happy on your own.

Although, that didn‘t stop you from falling for your neighbor as soon as you met him.

Your first impression of Kita was that he was polite, caring and warm but maybe a bit shy. He bowed his head with a smile when he passed by your front yard in the evening heading to his house, looking exhausted but satisfied. You wondered if he lived alone, too, because no one else seemed to be going in or out of the modest traditional nouka.

You were privately looking forward to the evenings when you could catch a glimpse of him and bask even for just a second in the sunshine of his smile.

This went on for a week or so of you two simply exchanging nods, waves and smiles until, “Good evenin‘.“, he greeted.

The buzzing of cicadas filled the air. You were tending to your garden, having opted to weed in the milder evening rather than the afternoon sun. A straw hat on your head, muscles already straining from the unfamiliar work, you straightened, trying to suppress a groan. “And to you.“, you replied, using the back of your hand to wipe the sweat off your forehead, smearing some soil on your skin in the process.

“It‘s really comin‘ together.“, he noted and nodded towards the healthy green surrounding your ankles.

Don‘t blush, you told yourself. “Thank you.“, you beamed, “I am worried about my tomatoes, though. They look a bit peaked.“

You pointed to some sad little plants on the end of your veggie patch.

With professional eyes he wandered along the fence to inspect them.

“Oh, yea, they might have had a bit too much sun and not enough water. Don‘t worry, happens to all of us.“, he smiled, “I have some extra starters in my greenhouse. Ya can have a couple if ya like. I always grow more in case bugs get to ‘em.“

“Oh, really?“

“Sure, come by tomorrow to pick ‘em up.“

“Thank you so much!“

“What else have ya got here?“, he now leaned on the fence post, examining the rest of the plants. You listed the few you had.

“Ya might wanna add sugar snap peas. They‘re easy to grow and the yield is really good.“

“Noted! But I might have to wait until next season, I don‘t think I have enough space for any more.“

“Ya can grow ‘em nicely in planters. I can build ya one. It‘s not difficult.“

Your heart did a little jump. “Are you sure it‘s not too much trouble?“

“Neighbors gotta stick together, right?“, he grinned and stood back up, “I‘mma let ya get back to it.“ and he made to leave.

“W-wait!“

He turned back to you.

“One of the grannies in town gave me a bunch of fresh greens and tofu today. My fridge doesn‘t work yet so I‘m worried it’ll go bad. Would you like to join me for dinner?“

He blinked. For a moment you weren‘t sure if you hadn‘t been too forward but then Kita nodded and walked around the fence to your gate. Oh my, somehow the fence had underplayed his handsomeness. As he stood right in front of you, arms tan and taut with lean muscles from a day‘s work and a towel tied around his neck you forgot to talk for a second.

“This way.“, you gestured to the front door.

“Don‘t ya wanna finish up weedin’ first?“

“But…“

“I‘ll help ya.“

“But…“

And he got to work. Of course, his practiced hands got the job done so much faster than you and where you had only managed a fourth of the patch he finished up the rest in no time.

Kita knelt on a seating pillow you had laid out around your coffee table, patiently waiting for you to plate up the hearty stew alongside some grilled tofu and rice. You figured he must be starving after all that hard manual labor. But to your surprise he ate slowly, chewed carefully and seemed to savor the taste.

“It‘s delicious.“, he said and let out a small content sigh, “I usually don‘t have much energy to cook in the evenin’s. This is great, thank ya.“

So he did live alone. How the masses of overzealous grandmothers in town hadn‘t flocked together to feed this man yet was a mystery to you.

In all honesty, Kita didn‘t agree with the people in town who said you were “pretty“. “Pretty“ didn‘t do you justice. He thought you were breathtaking. Because that‘s how he felt when he talked to you for the first time. Like his breath was stuck somewhere in his throat. Your genuine smile when he complimented your cooking now had a permanent place in his mind - framed it hung at the very top where he could always admire it throughout his day. Where his thoughts were usually busy with plans for the following morning or simply quiet, while his hands moved automatically through the water in the fields, they were now interlaced with you. Your twinkling eyes when he told you he would build you a planter, your cute protests when he offered to help you weed that tiny little veggie patch as if it was the most daunting task ever encountered and your voice, bright and lively as you told him about yourself upon his request. His grandmother had told him many stories growing up, about right and wrong, patience, kindness and fate. She told him when two people were meant for each other, their souls would recognize it and be drawn to the other by some unseen force. Back then, young Kita wasn‘t exactly sure what to make of it. It sounded very fantastical and without any data to back it up he thought it was another one of his grandmother‘s folktales. Now he wasn‘t so sure anymore because you were his first and last thought of the day.

He doubted that someone as beautiful and worldly as you would consider him as a match but he was merely glad to know he could be of help and make your life a little easier. After dinner the previous night he had told you he had some business in the city the next day and you could please wait for him at his place in the afternoon to collect your promised tomato starters. He had spent the morning making sure the little plants were in top shape, selecting the very best of the bunch. He was eager to get back home but as per usual, city traffic had other ideas.

Every couple of seconds he glanced at the clock on the truck‘s dashboard, hoping he didn‘t make you wait too long.

When he finally pulled into his driveway he spotted you sitting on his porch, his black and white dog lounging in your lap, getting his ears massaged.

A bundle lay next to you.

The dog‘s tail thwacked on the wooden porch as he approached.

“Ya look comfortable.“ He had meant it to his (guard) dog but somehow it seemed like your full cheeks got a bit of color.

“I hope I haven't kept ya waitin‘.“

“It‘s fine.“, you said simply, “I had great company.“ You petted the dog's head again who let out a happy huff.

Kita grinned and looked towards one of his greenhouses. “I‘ll go grab the tomatoes.“

You were brushing some dog hairs off your pants when he returned. Without meaning to, he searched your hands for an indication of a wedding band but shook his head when he caught himself.

He held out the tray with the starters.

“Thank you so much! They look great. And here.“, you bent down to exchange the tray for the bundle, “Since you said you wouldn‘t accept any money for them I made you dinner instead.“

His eyes widened. “Ya didn‘t have to.“

You shrugged. “I know, but it wouldn‘t feel right otherwise. And it‘s not like it‘s even close to an equal trade once these start producing.“

He was a little disappointed. After all, he had practiced inviting you to have dinner with him his entire drive back, but having more of your cooking was the next best thing, he supposed.

The following morning you found the bundle neatly wrapped on your doorstep, the large square bento box inside had been thoroughly cleaned and a note replaced the food “It was really delicious. Thank you very much. - Kita“.

Your heart stumbled when you stared at the neatly written words and grinning so hard your cheeks started to hurt, you pinned it to a little cork board next to the door.

____________________________________________

a/n: thank you so much to @makkir0ll for helping me hatch this ostrich-sized brain egg 🌟🫶🏻

art: coloring done by @keiko-chan

[snwprl]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈 𝐃𝐎 | 𝐲.𝐣𝐡

pairing. yoon jeonghan x reader

genre. fluff

wc. 352

a/n. tried my hand on enemies to lovers trope. let me know, how is it?!

m.list

The library was your usual battlefield - worn textbooks, your weapons, silence the tense air you breathed. Jeonghan, your academic archnemesis, sat across from you, brow furrowed in concentration as he highlighted a passage. You, ever the strategist, were already two chapters ahead, a smug satisfaction blooming in your chest.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the open window, scattering Jeonghan's meticulously organised notes across the floor. A strangled curse escaped his lips as he scrambled to gather them. You watched, a flicker of amusement dancing in your eyes.

"Need a hand, Jeonghan?" you couldn't resist the jab.

He shot you a glare, the kind that usually sent shivers down your spine. Today, however, it did little to faze you. "In your dreams, Y/N."

Minutes ticked by, the silence returning, thicker this time. You stole a glance at Jeonghan, his frustration evident in the way he chewed on his pen. An idea, impulsive and daring, popped into your head.

"You want me to help you pick these up?" you asked, feigning innocence.

Jeonghan's head snapped up, surprise momentarily replacing his annoyance. "You know I do," he muttered, defeated.

A surprised laugh bubbled out of you. "You want me?" you teased, leaning back in your chair.

He met your gaze, a hint of a blush creeping up his neck. "You know I do," he said again, this time his voice firm, but his eyes held a vulnerability that took you aback.

The playful banter dissolved, replaced by a sudden awareness. You realised, maybe, just maybe, this wasn't just about winning in the classroom anymore. Maybe, Jeonghan wasn't just your rival. Maybe, there was something more brewing beneath the surface of your competitive spirit.

A slow smile spread across your face. "Alright, Jeonghan," you conceded, extending a hand towards him. "Let's get these papers back in order."

He took your hand, his fingers lingering in yours for a beat longer than necessary. A spark ignited, a silent promise of a different kind of battle, one fought not with textbooks, but with unspoken feelings. The library, once a battlefield, now held the promise of something new, something exciting.

[helvegen-s]

Rage, rage | four

prologue | one | two | three | four

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: blood, bad language, talking about trauma, bad familiar relationships (King of hybern father of the year)

Sitting in that chair, Nimue did nothing but absorb everything she saw around her: the paintings hanging on the walls, the rugs covering the floor, every detail placed on the shelves, the books arranged alphabetically...

It was all perfect. She had never imagined what the physical representation of the word "home" would be like, yet she felt it should be like this. In every carefully placed thing, she saw the affection behind it.

She stopped daydreaming and returned to the most pressing matter: the fact that, for some reason, she was tied to that chair.

Bound, but without seeing the ropes. It was an invisible force that pushed her against the wood of the armrests and the cushion of the backrest. She tried to suppress a laugh with little success because she knew effortlessly she could free herself from those ties. But well, if it made them feel safer, so be it.

She looked up, first to that male: Azriel, as she had heard others call him.

She still felt that sensation pulsing right in the middle of her being, making her gaze involuntarily go to him even in that room full of people.

Azriel felt like he was going to explode. He stood, leaning against the back of one of the sofas in the living room, positioned between Rhysand and Amren. With his arms crossed over his chest, he tried to control his breathing, counting to ten and releasing the air, counting again.

His wings trembled upon hearing the small laugh that escaped from the lips of that stranger. "What the hell are you laughing at? Do you find the situation funny?" he barked at the girl. She seemed surprised as her expression changed abruptly.

"No," she replied, furrowing her brow. She could feel the man's anger through that invisible thread connecting her to him. She tried to clear her mind. "It's just amusing that you have me tied up here. I can free myself at any moment, and if I don't, it's because I know you're afraid of me."

Rhysand's face must have been a sight. Afraid of her? He reinforced even more the restraints binding the girl to the chair, and with a sly smile, he took a step forward. "Dare to let yourself go, and you'll see what happens."

Was that some kind of sarcasm? Nimue didn't understand, she was just used to people speaking to her clearly, if only to avoid being in her presence more than necessary.

So she stood up, crossing the restraints of the High Lord like someone walking against a gentle breeze. Everyone jumped in their seats, reaching for their weapons or preparing to defend themselves.

But Nimue simply stood there, scanning from one to another: from the High Lord to Azriel, from the petite woman to Cassian, as she had heard Rhysand call him.

"I know you don't understand what I am or who I am right now, but it's okay. I'll explain it calmly, but you have to be willing to listen to me. You need me more than I need you."

Cassian let out a mocking laugh, "And why did you help us if you say you don't need us?"

And then silence fell.

Why had she helped them?

She had acted without thinking, that's for sure. She had never contradicted her father, and for the first time it was under such circumstances that something didn't fit deep within her conscience. She could excuse it with those memories that weren't hers: seeing those two humans in the Cauldron had awakened in her those memories from twenty years ago. But it wasn't just that.

Yes, she knew that within her, that idea of killing her father, ending him, stopping that plan he wanted to carry out and doing good had always been germinating. But in between there was always that rotten and unconditional love she felt for the King of Hybern, which was written in every cell of her being from the day she emerged.

"I needed an excuse," she said aloud. All the attention of those present was on her, and she kept talking. "I always knew my father was never the good one. I'm missing pieces of the story, I only know what he told me through filters. I know there are people in Prythian, I know there's going to be a war, I know everything revolves around the Cauldron. But I don't know much more."

My father.

When the girl uttered those words, Azriel felt a surge rising from the depths of his throat. How could a monster like the King of Hybern have sired such a beautiful creature?

Yes, beautiful. She is beautiful.

He stopped his thoughts abruptly, trying to ignore his own shadow's whispers. He was hallucinating, again.

"I also know that my father expected me to fight for him in this war, to incinerate Prythian's forces. He counted on an easy victory, however now..." Nimue's hands couldn't stop playing with the fabric of the dress she was wearing. It was then that she realized the pristine white fabric of her skirt was stained with blood, the blood of the Illyrians. She took a deep breath and continued speaking, "He's not going to take it very well that I've done this. That I've... betrayed him.”

"Well, don't tell me."

Nimue looked up at Azriel. Was that irony again?

Rhysand gave the Shadowsinger a stern look, and everyone fell silent again, waiting for the girl to speak.

But she didn't know where to continue. What should she tell them about herself? Should she tell them what she was?

And in the midst of the prolonged silence, the High Lord spoke up, "No one knew of the existence of a princess of Hybern. If you claim to be so powerful, why did your father never boast about you?"

There was something that didn't add up in all of this and had Rhysand uneasy. He felt the presence of the female, a pale, pulsating white light in the middle of the room. It was a strange magic, something he couldn't quite categorize within the fae magic that flowed through his veins. His gaze shifted to Amren, hoping she could shed some light on the situation, but to his surprise, she looked just as bewildered as he did.

"My father never wanted my existence to be known. I..." Nimue bit her lip, weighing how much revealing everything to this group of strangers would be a good idea. "I've never left Hybern. In fact, I've never left the castle."

"How old are you, girl? Have you been locked up in there your whole life?" Amren asked.

"It's hard to say how old I am. In this body, I've lived twenty years of yours. Before that... my memories are clouded."

"In this body? Before that?" Azriel inquired. He felt like he was going crazy, wanting to pull his hair out and scream. What was happening? Of all the outcomes he had predicted for today, this was certainly one he wouldn't have even dreamed of. "Tell us the truth, or I swear I'll slit your throat."

Nimue smiled, a poisonous smile she had learned from her father.

"I doubt it. If I have to kick your ass again like I did out there, I will," she held Azriel's gaze. And added, "And with pleasure."

Azriel snorted, baring his teeth in an aggressive gesture and reaching for his dagger. Nimue simply smiled, holding his gaze without flinching.

With that mask she had learned to wear.

Rhysand rolled his eyes and brought his hands to his face, trying to process everything that was happening.

They hadn't obtained the Cauldron, they had learned of Tamlin's betrayal, they had transformed his mate's sisters, and now this. It had been a very eventful day, to say the least.

"So you're trying to tell us that you've been in this world for twenty years, but before that, you were somewhere else, right? Do you remember where?"

"Yes," said Nimue. She tried to hold back another laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "In the Cauldron."

And they fell silent again.

The expressions on everyone's faces were like something out of a painting, and Nimue let out a quiet laugh.

She had never had to explain who or what she was; everyone where she came from knew. They all knew her.

"Well," she began calmly, "we all know my father, the King of Hybern. The fanatic, lunatic and power-hungry one."

"Yes, unfortunately."

"He impregnated one of his royal concubines, and in the midst of that madness, he decided to put her in the Cauldron. I don't know if it was under coercion from the Cauldron itself, if it was a demand my father made, or what. But the woman died instantly, and in exchange for her life, I came out of the Cauldron."

"So, you're telling me that the Cauldron not only has the power to turn humans into fae, as we've seen with Feyre's sisters. You're telling me," Rhysand took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts, "that the Cauldron granted the King a daughter in exchange for a sacrifice, no more, no less."

"Yes, but it's not something that will happen again. The Cauldron created me as its own whim, just as it has done with those two humans you mentioned. Feyre’s sisters…"

“Elain and Nesta.”

"Yes," said Nimue. "What it has done with them won't happen again. Not for a long time, at least. The Cauldron only responds to its own impulses, and I don't even understand them myself. Our fae minds aren't made to understand what the Cauldron is or how it acts. Not even the mind of that creature."

Nimue pointed at Amren, who crossed her arms with a sly smile.

"Well, on that you're right. Not even this creature," she said, pointing to herself, "is capable of understanding under what desires that pot acts."

And they all fell silent again, weighing the situation and assimilating what the girl had said.

Azriel was simply angry, furious. He couldn't feel anything else at that moment. He didn't care much about the Cauldron's affairs, nor did he lose sleep over trying to understand how it worked.

He just wanted to know why he had the misfortune of finding out that his mate, whom he had been waiting to meet since he was a child, had to be the damn daughter of the King of Hybern.

"And regarding your problem," Nimue continued, this time addressing only Azriel, "well, our problem. I never knew what a mate was, as you called it. I knew that the Cauldron forged the souls of people to be incomplete, so that if they were lucky, they would find the other half they were missing during their life. But when I saw you, when I felt it, I was able to understand. I'm sorry if it's been a disappointment, but it is what it is."

Azriel frowned, his arms crossed and the hair on his arms bristling. He felt like he was trembling with rage.

"I didn't ask for this, princess."

Nimue didn't want to admit it, but the pull of disdain she felt on the other side of the bond made her heart shrink.

"Great, neither did I."

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @saltedcoffeescotch @donttellthecats @annblvd

[toodelusionalforreality]

Absolution

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: Two lovers separated out of necessity finally reunite, only for a brief tryst.

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. It's an extended universe for a plot I was working with details tbd but doesn't involve much plot here. So it should be an easy read. This is my first ever Tumblr publish and it's scary!! So be kind. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: ~4.5k

Warning: NSFW, 18+ SMUT, f!receiving, m!receiving(barely), sappy start+spicy middle+angsty end (i guess), voice kink, p in v. Mentions of OC other than reader[not enough editing/proofreading/formatting]

Azriel stepped into the room desperately holding on to the moment, afraid Crone Mother would change her mind. N sat on the balcony—like every evening, on the floor, her legs crossed, her hands clasped in her lap. The curtains came alive with the touch of a gentle breeze to guard her from him. Her sheer dress melded with her body under the radiance of the fading sun, her skin aglow as if made of stars and gold. Summer flowers adorned her hair, tucked into the braid that unravelled after the day’s practices.

His shadows peeked over his shoulders and swarmed his hands buzzing with excitement. With each silent step, he prayed he didn’t break her trance. He settled before her—bringing his knees to his chest, he rested his elbows on them, and his wings tucked tight to his body.

The hue of the setting sun made everything heavenly about her—soft, ethereal. Wisps of hair teasing her cheeks, the knowing smile on her lips, the slight flutter of her eyelids under his stare. A sigh escaped Azriel’s lips. It was a worthless attempt to hide his presence from her, the one who held the sight. 

Azriel wasn’t a fool to waste the mercy bestowed upon him after months of longing to be close to his beloved. He stretched on the floor, his head finding its rightful place in her lap, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her scent and warmth made their bond burn brighter and he sighed in contentment.

After long minutes, N rested her palm on his head. Her fingers carded through his hair, and her nails scratched his scalp the way he liked. A thumb teased the shell of his ear and his wings responded with a sudden tremor.

Azriel smiled. He buried his face into her thigh. Air shifted around them as her body answered to his touches and breaths. Despite the need clawing in his chest, he chose to wait a few minutes, to savour the comfort of her simple touch.

N broke the silence. ‘How was your day?’ Her voice was as sweet as ever.

‘Long. Excruciatingly long,’ sighed Azriel. ‘I started with your friends from the armoury today. Until your mother sent me to the gardens.’ He remembered the smile on the older woman’s face when she took him away from the others. A secretive, mischievous one. ‘She enjoys testing me a bit much. She made me tend to your roses.’

N laughed, the sound sending a shiver through him. ‘That must have been a vision. Maybe she’s exacting revenge for how you treated her back home.’

Azriel’s heart thudded in his chest. Home. No matter what Crone Mother said, N had one home. It was with him, in Night Court. ‘I think she’s forgotten all that. She’s more interested in stealing you from me.’ His arms tightened around her and his shadows whirled around them emphasising their master’s possessiveness, ‘But I don’t mind. As long as she lets me be with you for a while.’ His lips twitched. ‘Did you know everyone here addresses me as your mate?’

Another laugh broke through her lips, ‘They're not wrong.’

‘No, they are not.’ Azriel finally looked up. Her eyes were already on his face. ‘I’ve been called many names over centuries. Shadowsinger. Spymaster. But this one,’ he leaned up to her face, ‘I like the most. To be known as yours before they even know my name.’ He got to his knees and trailed a knuckle along her jaw. ‘I’d like that for the rest of my life.’ Their bond strummed a tune so loud that rendered him senseless. ‘I want to have a life with you. A home, a family. Anything you want, any way you want. As long as you want that too.’

‘You mean that.’ N stated as if she needed to reassure herself. She stared at him with a mask of impassivity on her face that almost rivalled his own as a spy. Then, she smiled. ‘But I’ll have you know there will be more tests from Crone Mother.’

'I’ll suffer anything for you,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘So that’s a yes?’ N nodded before her eyes sparkled with mirth. ‘What is it?’ His senses warned him, his shadows stood alert on his shoulders. 

‘Well, technically, we’re married.’

Silence fell between them. Azriel’s fingers left her skin.

‘What?’

N shrugged. ‘Do you remember the first time we duelled?’ Her voice was steady but her hesitance broke through at the sight of the male who sat frozen in front of her. ‘You made me bleed. You proved you were my equal. And, it all happened after the bond snapped for you.’

Azriel remembered that day. He had wanted to impress her. It was the day he felt the warmth of her breath on him for the first time. For days and nights to come, he relived those moments until his skin prickled with heat.

N’s unsure laughter died soon when he didn’t even blink. His shadows retreated. His end of their bond quietened, alarming her. 

Finally, he said, ‘All this time you were my wife?’

Her breath stuck to her throat. ‘According to our custom, yes.’

‘And you kept that a secret.’ His wings flared behind him to their full glory and his eyes narrowed. ‘What did we discuss about your secrets?’

N leaned back, ‘Was I supposed to tell you all this when I had your blade to your throat? I’m not sure you’d have been open to that conversation.’ Her voice reeked of confidence but Azriel saw the facade waning in her darkening eyes.

Memories flitted through his mind—visions of her from the instant he laid his eyes on her to the present. Every misfortune they endured, every second they spent in love, every. . . 

He stalked her on his knees, his hands on either side of her. He hissed, ‘You slept with those males after that.’ A sound escaped his throat, a rumble deep from his chest. ‘My wife slept with other males to spite me.’ 

N stared at his lips and swallowed thickly. She hurried back, her hands slipping on the smooth marble under her. 'Azriel,' she whined wincing at the way her body welcomed her impending doom.

Azriel inhaled sharply. ’You like that? When I call you my wife?’ He chuckled darkly. His lips whispered against hers, ‘Of all the things you kept from me, this is the worst. You’re not getting out of this easy this time.’

N pleaded with her eyes. Her breaths shuddered. ‘They are watching.’

‘Then they’ll know my actions are justified.’

Azriel dove for his kill but before his hands grasped her, she faded away. Her airy laughter echoed in his ears. She stood in the middle of the room—her hands gently clutching her skirt to free her feet, her braid coming undone over her shoulder, teeth sinking into her plump lip—a vision of devilry and seduction.

His eyes flashed up to hers with a glint. His shadows who wanted vengeance of their own circled his shoulders and arms with a frenzy. N was in trouble and she knew it. She turned to run only to be met with his hard chest emerging from a dark mist.

‘Did you really think you could get away?’ He caressed her cheek, ‘There’s no escape from me. You should know that by now.’

N slid her arms around his neck. ‘Back then, we barely knew each other. I didn’t want to scare you.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ She sent every ounce of sincerity in her being through their bond, still he kept his end cloaked.

Azriel pulled his arms away. Dark amusement shone in his eyes. ‘As if a silly apology is going to save you.’

N smoothed her palms over his chest. ‘I know.’ Her lips brushed against his skin, littering his face with soft pecks. ‘I know,’ she kissed the corner of his lips, moving closer and closer to the centre as she breathed the words, ‘I’ll make it up to you. For every secret.’

Even as N pressed her body into his, Azriel stood unmoved with a cruel smirk on his lips and his hands by his side. Her fingers wandered over his sculpted torso before unbuttoning his shirt. The shadows on his shoulders swayed, watching, waiting. The regal female who made others quiver with fear grovelled for his forgiveness, and his wretched heart grew giddy with power and pride.

Azriel itched to grab her waist and bite her lips until she bled for him again. A true victory in this duel. He closed his eyes in a wasted effort to tame his thoughts. At the first touch of her cool fingers on his bare chest, he almost gave in. 

His eyes snapped open the moment N pulled her lips away. She dropped to her knees, her fingers dancing on his hips. Pressing a kiss below his navel, she inched her hands between his legs and fondled him with the heel of her palms. The warmth from her hands seeped through the cotton, which he was forced to wear upon their arrival, promising him the pleasure that awaited him.

In all the years with her, Azriel treated her lips as a relic–sacred and holy–a crown jewel in the trove that was her body. Something to be guarded, treasured, worshipped. He never had to take her mouth the way she offered to him to reach for the stars.

N smiled sweetly. The goddess who witnessed every vice and virtue under the sky knelt before him with love in her heart and devotion in her eyes.

Enchanted, Azriel watched her. His lips parted with a shaky breath. Their bond blazed with emotions he couldn’t name. At that moment, he knew there had never been nor ever will be a male more blessed than he was.

His scarred hand cradled her cheek tinged with a soft blush. She leaned in, closing her eyes, trapping his hand between her shoulder and face. She sighed. She kissed his wrist, his palm, his fingers. 

Azriel couldn’t decide which was in more pain—his heart or his cock. Both, mere toys in her hands. 

N grazed her lips against his clothed hardness and Azriel closed his eyes. His head fell back. A gasp escaped deep from his chest when her tongue soaked him through the fabric. He couldn't remember why he wanted to punish his sweet mate. He was close to breaking already and all she did was tease.

A sharp scrape of her teeth along his length had him bury his hand in her hair softer than the flowers that tumbled down her breast. He hissed in warning as his eyes held hers in a glare. 

‘I want you to look at me,’ she smiled. That damned smile that masked her every cruelty.

Too much time had passed since they felt each other’s skin. Months, almost a year of not seeing each other, not holding each other. And there she was ready to worship him with her entire being if only for a night until their time ran out. Every move of hers had his heart wring in pain, the desire through the bond overwhelming and consuming his soul.

His shadows swooped down and pulled her to him. Azriel crashed his lips onto hers before her feet rested on the ground and stole every little breath from her chest. His shadows brought them to her bed, delicate and soft fit for a queen, like her. 

He pried the cord that held her dress together below her breasts. His lips ventured south leaving a trail of red on her neck and chest while N rewarded him with her moans. Shadows, ever obedient, parted her dress to make way for their master’s hand to relish the smoothness of her skin. He caressed every inch of her body with his marred hands except where she ached for him the most. She pleaded and moaned, guiding his hand between her legs. 

‘You shouldn’t have lied to me,’ he growled, letting his canines scratch her jaw. ‘You know how I feel about secrets, don’t you?’ A sob left her lips as the back of his fingers teased her entrance with the barest of touch. ‘Is this what you call making up? Crying and moaning until your husband fucks you?’

N froze. Her eyes stared into his with unspoken emotion that radiated clearly in their bond instead. ‘Azriel, please.’ His hand came down hard between her legs. She arched her back beautifully for him as a silent gasp escaped her lips.

Azriel memorised every pull of her muscles. ‘You should’ve known better.’ He slipped his fingers in and out, barely past her entrance, coaxing moans out of her. Her wetness had his mouth water. He undid his pants enough to ease himself out and thrusted into her in a single move.

They were perfect for each other—masochists at heart, denying themselves release until the day for their reunion drew closer and closer. N reached a hand out and clawed at his chest. Her eyes widened and soon glazed with pleasure. Her lungs ached for air. Her body begged to escape the feral male whose only intention was to devour her body and soul. Yet, she wrapped her legs around him.

Azriel waited panting, his heart losing its rhythm, shirt clinging to his back. N tugged him closer with her heels on his ass. He growled, baring his teeth. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her to his chest. Her eyes fixated where his hips snapped against hers, where they were finally a whole. Each of her whimpers nudged him to quicken his pace.

He felt his release closing in. ‘Is this what you want?’ She looked up, mewling for him, her eyes burning with tears. Too soon. He pulled out of her weeping cunt and dove in with his tongue.

N cried out his name, sweeter than any melody she had ever sung for him. Her body slumped on the bed. She sought for leverage, her hands fisting the pillows. As she felt her fingers grasping at reality, shadows weaved around her wrist and pinned them above her head.

Azriel watched his mate’s body collapse and crash at his ministrations. He dug his fingers into her thighs tearing them open. Her bright eyes pinched shut before she met his crazed ones. With her chest glistening with sweat, her neck reddening, and her teeth sinking into her wet, swollen lips, she came.

Watching her body shiver with every lick of the evening breeze, Azriel rid himself of his clothes. He leaned down to kiss her lips, but she stared dazed. He laughed and nipped at the insides of her bicep, clearing the fog in her mind. Her arms flushed red as blood rushed back. Her fingers twitched and his shadows trickled along them. She came alive with whines when he slipped his fingers inside her.

Her desire came in waves through the bond. A groan rose from his chest, a guttural rumble. Even after his transgressions, she only wanted more, more of him. N clenched around his fingers at the sound. Azriel chuckled darkly into her ear. N curled into herself and clenched again. A renewed glint came to his eyes as he stared into hers. 

‘She likes my voice, does she now? I always wondered. . .’ He lowered himself between her legs again, his second haven, the first being her embrace. A series of soft ‘please’ escaped her but the lust in her eyes told a different story, the bond sang a different tune. And he chose to heed its calling.

He wrapped a hand around her thigh and pushed the other aside with his shoulder. He didn’t want to miss this one. It was no new knowledge. He always had his suspicions, years of practice in observing the unobserved. But to finally see it with his own eyes, he was desperate to witness it. He wanted it to be true, he prayed for it to be true. 

The room was filled with nothing but N’s silent pleas. Her wetness glistened in the last lights of dusk promising him an elixir crafted just for him. A fresh wave of arousal rolled over her body. Azriel hummed, breathing in the scent.

‘So pretty,’ he exhaled. His eyes took in every flutter that invited him back. ‘You like being praised, don’t you?’ N moaned fighting against the shadows that held her hostage. Azriel pulled her close by her hip and inhaled—loud and deep—his nose almost touching her. 

‘Always wet for me, eager for me.’ His voice softened, his taunts dying as if his anger was meant for N and not her cunt, ‘I missed you so much. I can tell you missed me too,’ he pressed his lips to her thigh, his eyes unwavering, ‘by the way you wrapped around me, by the way you swallowed me.’ His cock throbbed at his own words. 

He rasped, ‘Look at you, teasing me. Do you want a kiss?’ He flattened a hand on her abdomen, his fingers stroking deliberate patterns. ‘My tongue, my fingers? Hmm?’ Her hip jerked up for more and he pressed a kiss to the arch above her clit.

'Azriel, please. I want more.'

‘So wanton, so needy.’ A wisp of shadow licked her entrance once and N closed her eyes. Her hips moved in tandem as if she could materialise what she needed out of thin air. ‘So beautiful.’ Azriel grazed a thumb along the junction where her leg met her hip. N fell back with a groan.

‘You want me, don’t you? You never lie to me,’ another kiss to her thigh, ‘You can’t lie. Unlike N,’ his eyes finally caught her desperate ones. For a moment, he almost felt tyrannical to let the wicked smile pull at his lips. N threw her head back and circled her hips again.

‘That’s it, pretty. Show me how you’d fuck me. Show me how beautiful you are.’ His tongue trailed a line alongside his thumb, ‘Come for me.’

Her legs went taut around his shoulders. Her toes dug into his back next to where his wing emerged from. When her stomach sank in, Azriel shoved two fingers inside and held it there as she unravelled with a choked moan. 

Pure, perverse pride filled his chest as his mate bucked and thrashed at the impact. Azriel was sick—sick at heart, sick in his desires. He never denied it. But it hardly felt a sickness with N trembling with his fingers inside.

Having lived through the horrors he did and committed unspeakable sins over his lifetime, Azriel knew there was no absolution for him. Nor that he cared. He already had his heaven, right there, in front of him, basking in the afterglow of pure pleasure.

He nuzzled his nose into her thigh to steal a little more warmth from her exhausted body. He brushed his cheek against her, closing his eyes, savouring the moment before his primal need destroyed the only person he loved the most. He hummed satisfied, pressing the lightest of kisses to her skin, his pathetic attempt to atone for the wicked he unleashed upon her. His heart should cower in shame and guilt, yet it swelled with love and hunger.

His name, whispered once, tore his attention from his perverted thoughts. He never cared for what he was called. But in her sweet voice, a sacred chant uttered in the confines of their chamber, he liked no word more than his own name. His shadows answered her call, smoothed over her sweat-covered body apologising for their master’s sadism, burning her skin with their delicate coolness. Some mercy, for they were no better than him.

Azriel brushed a thumb along her cheek gathering her tears away, a tender kiss placed in their stead. He smiled like a gentle lover. He parted her lips with his fingers soaked in her essence and slid them past her teeth.

With hooded eyes, N looked up at the male who sought the remnants of her soul clinging to her body and sucked on the tips. Her tongue rivalled the wetness between her legs. She was a true seductress.

Azriel lapped at his fingers and the lips sheathing them alike, tasting her whole at once, embracing the insanity he fought to stave off for so long. Even when he slipped his fingers out of her mouth, even when he pressed his body onto hers, even when he lined himself to her welcoming heat, he didn’t break the kiss like her lips were his only tether to reality.

N stilled beneath him. Another tear slipped from the corner of her beautiful eyes. Azriel was cruel, but he was capable of loving his mate right. He wrapped a hand around her shoulder and smoothed a palm over her hip. He inched in slowly into her pulsing cunt, ‘Give me one more, love. Just one. For me?’ 

His mate, ever merciful, nodded. The adoration that flowed through the golden string between their hearts reflected in her eyes. ‘Please,’ she said breathlessly, ‘please, Azriel. I want to touch you.’

The one whose dangerous hands slit throats of the most feral of males and females with grace asked to touch him so sweetly. How could he deny anything to her?

His shadows didn’t wait for his instructions. They released her arms and slid over to the skin their master left unattended, staking their claim on her body. Azriel reined them back only to lose control again. She made him jealous of his own shadows, ones meant to serve him, ones who forgot their place around her.

A long sigh pulled his focus back to her. Too exhausted to hold him like she always did, N ran her hands along his sides. ‘I missed you.’

‘I missed you too.’ Azriel lifted her thigh higher and wrapped it around his waist ripping a whine from her throat. He did miss her. He missed everything about her. Her raw devotion to him, her pure heart, her unconditional love.

As he moved deeper and deeper still, he felt it. The echo of a song he knew too well, one of love and longing that kept them connected through the times of separation. Beyond the familiarity of its thrum, he recognised something else.

Like catching a flicker of light after being lost in the dark for long. Like the first time he gained control of the darkness he was born with. Like the first time he tasted his freedom. In her arms, everything made sense. His breaths strained.

Tears flowed freely from her eyes. ‘I missed you,’ There was a tremor in her voice. Azriel soothed her with his own declarations but she shook her head, ‘Don’t make me leave you again. Please, I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t, not without you.’

Azriel always believed he loved her more than she could love him in her lifetime. His petty display of jealousy and temper, a proof of his love. What an arrogant fool. His heart ached for failing to truly see his beloved’s feelings for him, how deep it ran in her veins, how it destroyed her while it breathed life into him.

He pulled her close, enveloping her in his comfort, and his wings draped around them.

‘Promise me, Azriel.’ She closed her eyes, ‘Please.’

‘I’m here now,’ he caressed her cheek. He left kisses on her forehead, eyes, cheeks, and finally on her lips. ‘I’m here. I’m with you, love. I’m here.’ And at those words, N let go one last time leading him to his release.

Azriel left his shaking mate in the bed with a kiss when he came back to his senses to draw a bath. He stood by the door of her bathroom and watched his shadows tickle the skin below her ear. A light chuckle escaped her lips as more chased her hand. It was a sight he was used to and missed dearly.

N smiled at him as he carried her in his arms. Her body shivered at the first touch as Azriel lowered her into the tub. She tugged at his wrist, and he joined in. She leaned her back into his chest and closed her eyes. The water washed her exhaustion away while his hands massaged her tender flesh. Her eyes struggled to stay open and she sank deeper against him. As he dried her tenderly after, she watched him with an easy smile.

Azriel carried her out to the bedroom and paused. Fresh sheets lined her bed. Sweet fragrance of jasmine lingered in the air. Lit candles stood on windows and her desk. Moonlight streamed past the drawn curtains. His shadows failed to notice, too lost in her as he was.

‘I told you they were watching,’ N said, her voice quiet and tired. 

He eased her into the bed and pulled a blanket over her legs. He traced the marks of red on her stomach and between her breasts, marring her pristine skin—still a masterpiece—complete, perfect. ‘Do you think they’ll let me near you again after seeing what I’ve done?’ He couldn’t stop the smile that cruelly tugged at his mouth.

N groaned, throwing a hand over her eyes. ‘I’m pretty sure Mother Aarzu is already dissecting how you wrecked me for her next seduction lesson.’ 

‘Well then,’ Azriel laid beside her and pulled her to his chest, ‘I’m willing to contribute more to these lessons. They sound very necessary.’

She glared from behind her hand. ‘Mock all you want but your brothers are worse. I bet Rhysand was listening to your thoughts the whole time. And they are already planning on ways to taunt you.’

Azriel lifted a brow. He opened his mouth to defend his ability to guard his thoughts when his brother’s laughter echoed in his mind. ‘Your shields are pathetic when she’s around. They went down the moment her lips were on you.’ N flinched in his arms and he knew his brother invaded her mind as well for his next words, ‘Thanks for the show. Quite an. . .inspiration.’

N scoffed, ‘I don’t know why we do it behind closed doors.’ Her words had his mind conjure ideas already. A frown appeared between her brows. She looked at him sharply when she felt a hardness pressing into her hip, ‘We’re not doing that.’

Azriel laughed aloud. Something he hadn’t done in a while after he sent his mate away. ‘Anything my wife wants,’ he teased. He cradled her face against his chest and kissed her eye. ‘Anything you want.’