#a little something for sinful sunday

[sandrockian]

When it comes to Unsuur and physical affection, it’s all about the art of seduction, and he won’t just randomly kiss Liira. He has to set the mood with the perfect music and lighting, or if he’s feeling particularly passionate, he’ll take her by the hand and pull her against him. He’ll start slow with cautious kisses, but as his senses heighten with Liira pleading for more, his kisses will deepen and become all-consuming.

[sunwarmed-ash]

WIP Thursday/[Sinful Sunday post??]

hey so im gonna be taking time off writing for another job all next week so I'm posting this so you have something to read. DONT WORRY Sinful Sunday will continue, I'll just be busy this sunday and next making that capitalist coin!

This may turn into a fic, it may not. I wrote it right after I finished QAF for the 36th time.

Tags: Angsty steddiegrove, sex work, HIV+ character, violence

"Where do you go at night?"

Steve and Eddie are lying on Steve’s bed smoking weed when Steve asks the question that will inevitably change the course of their relationship, their future, forever. 

"What," Eddie asks, trying and failing for aloof. He thought he had been so careful. 

“You sneak out, every night. Where do you go, when you leave?"

Lying is the only probable next course of action. If he wants to keep Steve in his life that is. The truth will sever everything they once had. 

“Dealing doesn’t exactly fit a normal 9-5," Eddie says. It’s a half-lie. 

"You were selling drugs in Lafayette at 3 in the morning? Do you think I’m stupid," Steve snaps.

Eddie’s entire body flashes hot with the amount of detail in that accusation.  

"What? No! Wait, how did you- hang on, have you been spying on me?"

"Answer the question Eddie!"

Eddie feels cornered, and that’s never a good place for him to be. Because when he feels trapped, he lies, and he can’t stop. He will say anything to cover his ass, even if its just to survive to see another minute. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you..."

Steve scoffs at Eddie’s attempt at self ownership. 

"Why can’t you tell me, Eddie? I mean, after everything we’ve been through!”

Eddie bites into his tongue. He wishes it was that easy. God, does he wish it could be that simple...  

“i can't, not with everything baby. I'm sorry.” 

“Why not?” Steve demands and now he’s angry. His eyes are lined with tears and Eddie can feel the beginning of the end coming like an approaching storm. 

“Because you won't love me anymore.” 

It’s the truth. And Eddie hates to even hear the words out loud. Because its gonna hurt so bad to hear it twice. From Steve’s lips. The soundbite will live with him for eternity. 

“Isn't that for me to decide,” Steve objects. 

“You've already decided.” 

Eddie remembers the shit Harrington pulled on Wheeler when she hurt his frail male ego by just existing in the same space as another man. He remembers the hateful way Steve spits the word ‘whore’ because he associates it with his father and all of his sins. It’s how everyone says the word. Like its poison in their mouth. 

Slut. Hooker. Whore. But that's what Eddie is. Until he can find something that pays better. Because he has to eat. He and Wayne won’t survive an Indiana winter without heat. And after Eddie was banished and then half-heartedly rewelcome into a unstable healing community, no one in Hawkins treats him the same. Weed sales have dried up. No one wants to hire him for any job. Not even the mechanic shop down the street that is desperately understaffed and Eddie is overqualified for. So what the hell else is he supposed to do? Wayne just turned 68. He shouldn’t need to work 12 hour shifts just to barely support the kid he didn't ask for in the first place. Eddie never should have been his burden. So this is Eddie’s way of giving back. Pulling his own weight so he didn't feel so much like a goddamn freeloader all the time. But could Steve understand that? Steve wasn’t stupid, but he also wasn’t, lets say as morally flexible as some other people.

"I can't- do this Eddie... If you’re going to lie to me." Steve says and one look into his eyes and Eddie feels what's left of the tie between them sever. 

"I'm not lying," He insists but its a half truth at best. 

"You're not telling me everything, that counts," Steve all but shouts. 

"You don't tell me everything."

He referring to whatever the hell went on between Hargrove and him two years ago. Eddie and Steve arent the only people different after an apocalypse. Their previous heated rivalry has all but burned out. So has Hargroves own personal brand of anger. They move around each other like chess pieces, always conscious of the others movement to limit interactions at school. But after school? Eddie’s seen Billy’s camero parked at Harrington’s more than it's parked in the trailer park. 

"That's different Eddie,” Steve huffs, scoffs as he pushes his hair back. “and you know it."

"How, how is it different Steve?" Eddie’s never brought it up before tonight. Eddie’s never been one for exclusivity, why the hell should he expect Steve to be?

"It doesn't involve you, or us. This does."

"Right,” Eddie scoffs, “Well, for argument's sake, it is safer for you not to know. For both of us."

Steve is silent for three beats too long.

Here it comes. 

Eddie can’t look at him. His face goes numb before the words can hit his ears. 

"Then you have my answer Eddie.”

It still hits him like a slap in the face. Steve’s done with him. And it hurts so much more than he anticipated it would. 

Eddie knew it was only a matter of time. He knew what Steve wanted in the end, and it was still someone more like Wheeler. A sweetheart. A family. Nothing Eddie can guarantee. Eddie doesn’t have much to say in his defense. So he doesn’t. 

"I'm sorry Eddie,” Steve, obviously uncomfortable in the silence, speaks again. “This is just, too much for me right now.”

"Okay,” comes out of Eddie’s numb mouth, even if it's the complete opposite. 

Eddie knew a clean break now would eventually be better than enduring their relationship fizzling out slowly. But it doesn't mean the inevitable failure of one more relationship doesn't hurt.

-two months later-

“Munson?”

Eddie blinks, of all the people to find him, here, he didn't think it would be Californian transplant, and fellow trailer trash bad boy Billy Hargrove from Hawkins. He just wants to disappear into the pavement. 

Eddie’s feet move to sprint, but Billy’s lighting reflexes catch him before he can. 

“Where the hell are you going now, Eddie?”

Eddie rips away from him. He hates the way his name sounds out loud. He hadn’t felt like ‘Eddie’ in weeks. He’s barely felt like anything. More like Nothing and no one. A nameless face in a sea of sex workers, businessmen, and bar patrons that he cycled through every day. 

“It’s none of your damn business,” Eddie spits, though it doesn't have much venom. He doesn't have the energy. He's sick, he’s cold, and he’s so fucking tired. He still has two more clients he can’t blow off tonight if he wants to have a prayer at ever getting unburied under his last hospital bill. Billy Hargrove and Hawkins and all that past shit is his lowest priority.  

“People are worried man,” Billy says, stopping Eddie from taking more than a step away. “Wayne especially. Don't you give a shit about him?”

Now Eddie is pissed, because who the fuck did Billy Hargrove think he was, telling him about what he should do? Talking to him about Wayne. As if he understood a goddamn thing about their lives! His anger flairs up his cough that only aggravates the pneumonia-scarred tissue and then Eddie’s coughing so hard it nearly knocks him over. 

When Billy moves close to ‘help’ Eddie slaps him off. 

“Everything I’m doing is for him! You don’t fucking know shit, Billy! How could you, you're just a kid!”

And while Billy was 17 and Eddie was 6 months into his 23rd lap around the earth, he felt so much older. His tragic sequence of life events had aged him decades. He’d be lucky to make it to 24 at this rate. 

Billy watches him curiously, putting together pieces Eddie doesnt mean him to. 

“Why did you take off Eddie?” 

“Why do you care?” Eddie doesn’t really think it's concern he sees in Billy's features. 

“Wayne doesn't have anyone else. You scared the shit out of him when you left.”

“Oh and what, you two are bffs now,” Eddie asks bitterly. 

Billy shrugged. 

“We've been spending a lot of time together, yeah.”

Eddie scoffs wetly. Fantastic. Now even Wayne has his own Eddie replacement. A better, nicer son. If Wayne didn’t need him anymore, well, he didn’t have any more ties back to Hawkins. He should be relieved, but instead he just feels empty. Forgotten. Unwanted. Billy had said people missed him, but the only name he offered up was Wayne’s.  

Eddie sniffs up the tears threatening to spill and reaches into his jacket. He takes out the seven hundred dollars and change he’s managed to squirrel away after his last AZT prescription refill and holds it out to Billy. 

“What is this?” Billy looks at the wad like its poisoned, and well, he's not entirely wrong, it's certainly dirty money. But its still green. And that’s all the world runs on. And speaking of money, the man he was currently scheduled to suck off is honking at him from across the parking lot, eyeing Billy with violent intent. Eddie needed to move quick before this escalated. 

“I’m not coming back. T-To Hawkins, I mean. I can’t, so I need you to give this to Wayne for me. Can I trust you to get it to him?”

Billy finally takes the money, counts it, and then his jaw drops. 

“There’s over seven hundred dollars here Eddie.”

“I know,” Eddie sighs dejectedly. “It should have been more but,” but you got stupid and believed some pretty, coked-up twink instead of following your gut. And now you get to live with the weight of that decision, forever… “It doesn’t matter. Just, please make sure he gets it. It should cover the next few payments on the trailer.”

Billy looks at him for a long time. 

“What the hell have you been doing Munson?”

Eddie scoffs before the car horn across the street blares loud, startling him right out of his skin. 

“Nothing you want to know about. Just please make sure he gets it, and knows, I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Billy’s eyes lower suspiciously. 

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Eddie shrugs.

“Because it has to be.” Eddie can’t feel anything below his neck anymore. The honk is starting up again. He’s really pushing his luck now. 

“Eddie, come on,” Hargrove begs and why does it sound like he’s actually pleading? Billy’s never had a nice word to say to him or Steve. And now he’s gone for what, a few weeks, and his enemy wants to become best friends? He doesn’t understand this plotline. He’s ready to get out of it. 

“I’m gotta go, Billy. Please, look out for Wayne.”

Eddie leaves the very next minute and sprints across the street, just narrowly avoiding being hit by the semi that blasts his horn.

[handsomegentlebutch]

My 3 little cousins were baptized today. "Triggered" is kind of a strong word but being in a catholic church again... I'm a little fragile rn ngl.

[tonycries]

A Million Dollar Baby! - N.K.

Synopsis. Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, landlord! Nanami (kinda), oraI (male + fem), cúmplay, reader’s a tease, unprotected, creampíe, down bad FERAL Nanami, spítting, bréeding, messing up his glasses, pantý-stealing, he’s sweet but fúcks so MEAN, mentions of Higuruma, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.8k (wild)

A/N. Decided it was high time I feed my Nanami girlies hehe.

“Just get the money and go.” Nanami deadpans, like a mantra. Giving a rapt knock on your apartment door, “I swear m’making him buy me lunch for this.”

Now, it wasn’t that Nanami was exactly upset about taking over Higuruma’s landlord duties for the day - no, in fact, he was the first one at his friend’s door with a bag of prescription medicine for the other man’s fever and the suggestion to take the day off.

But it was the thought of finally coming face-to-face with you - that mysterious new tenant that’d just moved into his building. The one that had Nanami wondering whether you were really as “sugary sweet n’ irresistible” as Higuruma raved you were. 

Though, he can’t imagine you’d be particularly happy about being woken up at 10am on a Sunday for overdue rent - he certainly wasn’t.

Seriously, he had no idea how Higuruma managed to do this every-

Click!

“Higu- you’re not Higuruma.”

Oh, and suddenly, Nanami gets it.

If he got to see this view, too, then he might just become the landlord himself.

It’s as if you knew you’d be playing with his sanity as soon as you opened that door, dressed in a fitted t-shirt that did absolutely everything to show off every bit of skin he shouldn’t be looking at. Your lips curving into a sinful little smirk when you notice his eyes dancing off that excuse of fabric you call “shorts”.

“Um…” you hum, after a few moments of silence. Leaning against your wooden door frame to give the tall man an appreciative one-over, “Nanami, right? You’re Higuruma’s friend?”

It’s as if the sound of his own name jolts Nanami right back into his senses, clearing his throat as he readjusts his glasses. “Y-yes. Nanami Kento.” And he winces, fuck he’s never stuttered like this. Never, even in the toughest of board meetings. Yet, here he was - making a fool out of himself. 

Knowing he’s completely fucked when your delicious grin only widens, he bows politely, “Apologies for barging in like this, ma’am. But Higuruma’s sick n’ m’here to collect the rent in his place.”

You wave off his formality, introducing yourself. “Ah, of course. I’ve seen you around, always been too nervous to come up and say hello, though.”

And, suddenly, Nanami’s glad you never came up to him to talk out of your own volition, he thinks he’s rather put off embarrassing himself for later. Coughing softly, “I apologize, s’my fault. It was rude of me to not introduce myself first.”

“Well, better late than never, right?” you continue in your smooth tone. Before your eyes catch down his broad shoulders, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clipboard held between his long, long fingers. “Right- the overdue rent. I swear, Higuruma’s always such a sweetheart, he doesn’t bother to remind me.” Opening your door wider to give Nanami a good look inside your cozy apartment - something forbidden. “Come in come in, I seem to have lost my wallet somewhere in here though, maybe you can help me find it.”

Oh? 

And Nanami knows this is dangerous. He knows this is much more than his simple plan earlier of just “get the money and go”. He knows that little glint in your eye certainly does not bode well for him as soon as he steps through that door. 

Yet, he answers anyway, “Of course, lead the way.”

Every bit of small talk in your sultry voice has Nanami gulping, loosening his favorite yellow tie while he follows you inside. Averting his eyes from the curve of your shorts, he takes in the neat state of your apartment. 

That is, until-

“Here we are.” you lead him to a towering pile of clothes piled unceremoniously on your tv room couch. Gesturing airily at the mess, “I’m sure I left my wallet in one of my pants, so you can just sit here until I-”

“I’ll do it.” Nanami’s quick answer stuns the both of you momentarily. But before you can resist, he’s shrugging off his jacket, ignoring the heat of your gaze when he bunches up his sleeves to reveal strong, veined forearms. “It’s only fair, since m’bothering you so early.”

You chuckle, “Oh? What a gentleman, we can do it together then, handsome.”

So here he was - sat on your cramped couch, your thighs flush against his, tackling your laundry. This was definitely a far cry from getting the rent and leaving - but, alas, Nanami can’t find it in himself to complain when he neatly folds up your clothes. 

Whereas you were hastily throwing them god-knows-where, hissing, “Where- is it-” 

“Patience.” he’s humming, placing another t-shirt on your coffee table. “Higuruma’s in no hurry, he can barely get out of bed right now.”

You click your tongue in frustration, “But you, Nanami-”

“-are perfectly fine helping you out.” Nanami cuts in, flashing you a gentle smile. Your eyes widen at the sight of a soft dimple at the corner of it. Which makes him tear his gaze from that pretty pout on your lips to turn back to his dwindling half of the pile, “Besides, it would be a shame if such a nice apartment was messed up by- by-”

Fuck. 

Was that what he thought it was?

His fingers tremble, looking so fucking big wrapped around that those tiny strings of hot pink. Sinful. Obscene. Shit, if he tried he could just rip it to pieces with his bare hands right now - even if you’d been wearing it.

“Hm?” you’re gasping at the sight of the man before you, body stiff, ears a guilty red, gaze hardening at where he was holding onto one of your panties. Oh, shit. You pluck the offending piece of material from his hands, “Oh- whoops. Um- that can’t really be folded.” Throwing a wink at the flustered man - and the lingerie right back at him. “Evidently.”

It was all too much for Nanami, and he’s bringing a hand up to cover his blush - before ripping it off like it burned when he realized it was the same hand he held your panties with. 

Somehow, he manages to choke out, “Maybe- maybe we should try looking somewhere else.”

And it was true - the few messy clothes now leftover (and…Nanami couldn’t forget, your underwear) didn’t show any signs of hiding your wallet. 

“If you say so~” you muse, getting up from your seat - only to get down on your knees. Right in front of Nanami’s manspread legs. 

“Wh-what are you-”

“Under the couch.” you interrupt, enjoying this way too fucking much for the poor man’s sanity as you flash him a cheeky grin. And he smacks himself mentally for letting his imagination be toyed by your teasing whims. “I might’ve dropped it under the couch, so won’t you be a dear and help lift it while I look?”

He couldn’t get up fast enough, almost stumbling over his long legs to crouch down beside you - just anywhere away from this scandalous position. “Ready?” Nanami rasps, biceps bulging tight against his button-up when he easily tilts over your couch. 

“More than.” you take a second longer to admire him before going back to your mission.

Which - whatever’s left of the rational part of Nanami’s brain really thinks might just be to drive him insane instead finding that fucking- what was it- wallet? 

“Hmmm seems it’s not here either, right, Ken?” He doesn’t know what he’s reeling at more - the fact that you used his first fucking name or the way you were arched so teasingly like that. On your knees, spine curving into a delicious little bend that has the crotch of his pants growing just a bit tighter. And- shit he was wrong. So, so wrong. Because those weren’t a sinful pair of shorts like he’d initially thought after all, instead, they were more like underwear. Flimsy and thin, bunching up perfectly at the crease of your hips. 

You were captivating. 

At his heavy silence, you bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Oh? Was it the name? Sorry, Nanami, you’ve just helped me so much that it ah- slipped out. I won’t do it again.”

“No.” he grits out, the both of you surprised by the ragged hitch in his answer. Already so disgustingly missing the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue. “I’d like it if you called me that- ‘Ken’ that is, if you want.”

“Well then, Ken.” you brush up unnecessarily against his sculpted body as you move to get up and dust yourself down. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my wallet’s not down there.”

Shit, he thinks, looking down at the empty spot of carpeted floor for the first time. You little tease, you knew what you were doing. 

Grinning unabashedly as you tug on his arm, “Come on! There’s one more place to look.”

As you pulled him along to the kitchen, Nanami had held out the hope that maybe - just maybe - this would be an actual attempt at finally paying off your overdue rent. Maybe he could walk out of this unscathed and holding onto whatever’s left of his dignity (and lacking the raging boner that was threatening against his slacks right now).

But every feeble hope of that was thrown out the window the moment you instructed him to hold the rickety, certainly unsafe chair propped up in front of your counter steady. 

“I swear I must’ve left it somewhere up there.” you grumble. Not wasting a moment before climbing onto it and rifling on top of your high cabinets. “No harm in trying, right?”

He gulps, palms getting sweaty on the wooden back of the chair with the effort to keep it still. “Are you sure you left it on top of there?”

“Huh? Yes yes, of course.” you answer absentmindedly. Your shirt snagging on your arms as you raise them even higher, “Think you can see something from down there?”

If Nanami could see the top of your shelves, then he didn’t want to find out - not when one glance upwards blessed him with a forbidden glimpse right up your t-shirt. All it took was a flash of skin before he was hit with the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“Ken~”

“Fuck!” he breathes, when he looks up involuntarily at the sound of his name. Face burning when you raise a brow, “U-um, m’not sure.” 

Yeah, he sure could see something - hell, he wanted to see more. 

He urgently swipes at the sweat slowly beading at his forehead, immediately regretting his actions when the chair tips ever-so-slightly. “Shit, I apologize, n’ I also apologize for what I’m about to do-” He gasps over your soft yelp, before wrapping two warm hands around the small of your waist. Searing. Soft. Planting you softly on the firm floor like some lil’ ragdoll, “-but I can’t let you put yourself in danger this way.”

Before you know it, you’re back in the safety of the ground. Stood right in front of a determined Nanami as he cranes his head up in your stuffy kitchen, backed up against the counter as he takes over looking for your wallet. 

“Let me, instead.” he grunts. 

But oh even with how genius he thought it was to look instead - even with how he stopped himself from looking at that sinful little slice of heaven - Nanami Kento had another problem. 

A problem that presented itself in the way that your body was pressed flush against his muscled chest, two of your thighs straddling his thick ones. Caged perfectly against him, exactly in the way he shouldn’t have been imagining - but did, anyway. And shit if he angled his body just right he could feel the heat of your core - the way your eager front was drawing in closer. 

“Ah-” he grunts when your soft palm glides lightly across his pecs. Jaw clenching while he tries to blink his hazy eyes back into the glaringly empty top of your cabinets, “My apologies, seems uh- your wallet isn’t- here-” 

Each word is wrenching out of his pretty, worry-bitten lips, a ragged gasp with every accidental brush of the pads of your fingers at the hem of his tight pants. 

“It isn’t there, hm?” you purr, a low honeyed tone that has all the blood in Nanami’s body rushing to his fat cock. “Well what do you suppose we do about that, Ken? Since I can’t pay the rent?”

Nanami doesn’t know whether you’re talking about the rent or that massive tent in his pants he really couldn’t explain away. Instead, he spits, “You knew what you were hah- doing, didn’t you, you lil’ minx? You don’t have your fuckin’ wallet here.”

And the air is so thick, so heady that he can only bring himself to pull away mere millimeters from where he was hovering near your face. 

But even that was too much - and in a split-second, you have your deft fingers wrapped tightly around his speckled tie. “And if I did?” Pulling close enough to ghost your lips against his, “You’re smart, Ken. So m’asking once again, what do you suppose we do about that?”

As if to draw out the answer from him, you’re giving a long, hard drag of your hot cunt along the outline of his swollen cock. You could almost feel every throb and nudge of his veins along the side, and it made you salivate.

“I suppose…” he answers, guttural, like some dark, primal part of himself is peaking its head out with each hot breath fanning your face. A large hand coming up to squish your cheeks into a pretty pout, pursing your lips perfectly for him. “That you hit me if you don’t like this, darling.”

And fuck for all how much of a gentleman Nanami acted - he kissed the exact opposite. All but ruining your lips in such a messy clash of teeth and tongue and him. Devouring you. 

“Fuck- shoulda known.” he’s letting out a humorless laugh, swiping his tongue across your glossy lower lips. “Should’ve known when you invited me in. Such a tease.” Drinking in your breathless moans, sucking on your tongue, “Such a- ngh- horny lil’ thing. This what you wanted all along?”

You hum into the kiss so drunk, “Maybe.” Dancing your hands all across where his toned muscles were fighting against the restraints of his shirt, “But you really can’t blame me.”

And maybe it was true - maybe this was inevitable. Either way, Nanami didn’t know, nor did he really care - not when you were letting out such sweet gasps when he bites down on your bottom lip - just a little punishment. Kissing his way down your heated skin, giving a languid lick at where he suspected that secret sensitive spot on your neck would be. 

“Oh! Ken.” you moan. Bingo. 

He’s unbuttoned his shirt now - or maybe it was you. Fuck, either way you couldn’t tear your eyes off of his pretty washboard abs. Curving and dipping like he was sculpted meticulously. 

And that’s all it takes for your already-dripping cunt to grow impossibly wetter, and he could feel it leaking through those flimsy cotton shorts of yours. Forming a messy sheen right at that damp spot of precum on his pants.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, my love.” Nanami murmurs, swiping a thumb down that sopping wet slit of yours through your shorts. Just marveling at the way that simple touch makes another wave of your sweet sweet juices bead through the fabric. “Hah, absolutely dripping. This all f’me?”

At your half-delirious nod, he flashes you a smile so handsome that it only makes you squirm more impatiently. “How sweet.” Giving your nose a chaste peck, “So good to me. So needy.”

“You’re the same, though.” you accuse, hotly.

And it’s true - Nanami couldn’t deny the aching need of his cock, the way he all but moans in response, “Then tell me- hngh tell me what you want. I’ll give you- anything-” Managing to get out through hot, sloppy kisses planted right on your wobbly lips, “-anything.”

But, ah, you always did manage to surprise him. And instead of an answer, you’re getting right down on your knees in front of him like you did not too long ago - though, this time, you’re reaching up to fumble with his belt. 

“Wan’ taste you.” you huff when his expensive notches prove too stubborn. “Wan’ feel you in my mouth so bad, Ken.” 

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles darkly, easily loosening his belt and his pants along with it. Rock-hard cock sensitive and just smearing a pool of precum where his fat head springs up to hit your lips. Such a pretty shade of gloss. Nanami laces his hand on your scalp to guide you forwards, slowly, “Then take it. Take it f’me, pretty.”

He was so pretty that you possibly couldn’t not - a delicate blushing red at his very tip, glistening and absolutely soaked in precum down the long path to his creamy base, his heavy balls. So girthy that it made your cunt clench in anticipation.

And then there’s no more talking. Hell, you barely get enough time to admire Nanami’s massive cock before he’s bullying it between your lips. Wetting his thick, angry tip with your saliva, just enough to eye down at the way your lips bulge so prettily around him. 

“Gonna hafta open w-wider if you wanna take me, pretty. Open hah- yeah jus’ like that.” He’s reeling your head back, all the way till you were just kissing at his thick, angry tip. “Now spit on it, my love.”

Despite being the one to say it, Nanami’s mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! of disbelief when you’re readily decorating his swollen length with a steady stream of spit. Your soft palms smearing the saliva along his length. 

You’re slurring, “After all, I still haven’t found my wallet, right?”

And oh he doesn’t even have to ask for what comes next - doesn’t even have to make a noise. 

Immediately, you take him in inch by fucking inch. The deliciously salty twang taking over your senses, and he’s so hot and heavy over your tongue. Veins pulsing in a dizzyingly throb! throb! throb! against the roof of your mouth.

“Are you- are you sure you can-” You shut up his doubts by rubbing your hot tongue along every sensitive ridge you could reach. Bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless little pace to milk his pretty cock for all he’s worth. 

Nanami’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Was this what heaven felt like? 

“F-fuuuck, oh you-” his words are catching in his throat with each flick of the tip of your tongue against his sensitive slit. Just the way he liked it. “-ngh guess that sharp mouth of yours wasn’t just hah- good for teasing, huh?”

He’s running his mouth a mile a minute - the complete opposite of the reserved man that’d come knocking on your door. Hips grinding up into your warm tongue mindlessly, slow. Languid - like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “Oh you feel so heavenly- so fuckin’ good it should be illegal.”

You can’t help but bat your teary eyes up at him in response, blinking away the lustful haze to drink in that utterly obscene sight above you. Nanami’s neat, blond hair uncharacteristically disheveled, stray strands sticking to his furrowed brow. Only deepening with each wrecked sigh that leaves his plump lips every time his abs flex with the movement of his fat head hitting the gummy back of your throat. 

He looks so pretty it makes you moan. 

Those electric vibrations going all the way down that wet divot on the tip of Nanami’s painfully hard cock to his heavy balls. 

“Oh shit- shit shit shit feels too good.” his words are slurring together, drunk off the way you gag around him. “Don’t do that don’t-” This only makes you drag your sloppy mouth down him deeper, syrupy moans sticking to

him all the while. 

“Fuck!” Nanami shudders. And he’s pulling you down - hard - barely letting you get a feverish little breath out until your nose is hitting the neat patch of blond at his base. Rubbing up against his toned pelvis. 

Still moving in deep, relentless thrusts inside your gummy cavern. “S’real fuckin’ hard to treat you as nice as I want when you act like that, my love.”

And, of course, the only response he gets are your pathetic, wet gurgles as you take him in faster. Cheeks hollowing to massaging his every sweet spot. Your jaw grinding against his twitching balls with each smack of his hypnotized hips against your mouth, fucking into you the way he wished he could do with your cunt. Frenzied. Sloppy. 

Yeah, this was heaven alright - but you were the fuckin’ devil. 

Of course, you wanted him to treat you like such a slut - so he does. 

Just dragging your stubborn mouth off of his twitching cock, Nanami only reaches down to place an accomplished peck on the pout of your mouth before hoisting you onto the counter. “What? You think I’d really ngh- cum before my darling girl?”

He’s groaning into your mouth, licking at the seam of your candied lips as two strong arms of his spread your legs so far apart it burned. “F-fuck, Ken-”

“Aw look. You’ve got another slutty pair, huh?” he gestures down at the drenched scrap of fabric you so proudly called “panties.” Sliding a thumb underneath to glide it underneath your puffy pussy lips. He’s echoing your sentiment from before, “Said you can’t find your hah- wallet, right?” Well, ya better start makin’ up for that now.”

In all of two seconds, Nanami’s hooking two fingers over your underwear - pulling - ripping. He was right -  Nanami takes a moment to admire your dripping cunt, glistening and needy for him - he could rip those panties right off of you. 

With just one hand pinning you to the cool marble of your counter, the other thumbing open your puffy folds, he’s giving all of your pussy a hot, open-mouthed kiss. 

“Mmm fuck-” he spits into your sloppy hole. Once. Twice. Letting it form a saturated little pool of your juices, before surging back nose-deep with a pained grunt. Again. And again. And again and again- “Jus’ as sweet- as sugary sweet ngh-”

Nanami didn’t think Higuruma knew about this little treasure trove when describing you - though, if he did, then he was well and fully intent on tongue-fucking every little thought out of him right now. 

“Hngh! Shit-” you’re keening when his greedy tongue laps up every bit of your syrupy sweet slick. Alternating - methodically, indecisively - between rolling over your throbbing clit and just dipping into your awaiting entrance. “It feels so- so good, Ken.”

“Yeah that’s right.” he gasps, wrapping those pretty pink lips of his to suck on your clit. Harsh. “Say my name- no, louder. Louder.” 

It’s all you can do to not just scream out his name without your neighbors filing a noise complaint. Dragging your sopping pussy all over his mouth - glistening and obscene right down the bottom half of his face all the way up to smear against his clear glasses. 

Such obscene squelches ring through your kitchen as Nanami keeps making out so messily with your sensitive nub. Ringing in your fucked-out brain, so obscene, so addictive that you barely even register the thick fingers dipping their way around your hole. 

You jolt when the cool metal of his glasses kiss your skin, “O-oh Ken what-” 

“Shhh shhh, darling.” he soothes. The tip of his manicured index circling around your elastic muscle. Hypnotic. “M’gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good-” With this, he’s bullying his fingers inside, “-care of you.”

Tears crinkle at the corners of your eyes at the sheer stimulation. Because for how sweet Nanami was talking you through this, he was absolutely ruthless on your cunt. Not half the man he was this morning - animalistic. Feral, even.

His sharp jaw grinding against your skin, fingers almost a blur with how depraved they were pumping in and out of you. Massaging every hidden corner of your plushy walls, yet you get the feeling that they were calculated. Nanami’s darkened eyes drinking in every whimper and twitch of your body over the glasses inching dangerously downwards. Searching, waiting for that one-

“Ngh!” You worry you’d have fallen off the counter if it wasn’t for Nanami holding you down. Body jolting at sudden electricity running through your veins, “Oh- fuck fuck fuck. Oh my god Ken, there. Right there–”

But before the sentence has even left your heavy lips, he’s hitting your g-spot once more. Easily finding the bullseye that has you bucking and arching into his mouth like such a slut. 

And this time - Nanami lets you use his mouth all you want. The fingers splayed out to pin you down moves to toy with your puffy clit. Rolling between his fingers while he hisses out syrupy sweet praises, “Shit, never liked m’name that much- ngh- but it sounds so pretty on your lips. So sweet. So- oh-” 

The sight of your cunt just beading with need has him kissing it once more. All over your sensitive nub, your ravaged hole, hell, even down to the mess of slick dripping down at your thighs. Faster. Sloppier. No rhythm or rhyme anymore. 

“M’so close.” you whine, weaving your fingers through his blond hair to help ride his face easier. Jolting with each purposeful flick of his tongue. “Gonna cum, Ken.”

“Cum then.” he answers, simply, grinning a guiltily glossy grin, “You’ve got a lot to make up for, right?”

And then you do - stars behind your eyes and that little nickname you’d made Nanami in your mouth. Over and over while he tonguefucks you through your high. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–” you whine, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks eat time he swiped at your sensitive spots, dragging it out longer. Until your soft whimpers were drowning out the squelches from below. Until you were blinking your spotty vision back. Until you were squirming your hips higher up the counter to pull away from Nanami’s unforgiving tactics. “M’too sensitive- Nana-”

He tuts, interrupting your orgasm-drunk babbles, “Tha’s not what you call me.” Pulling away just enough to hum, “All I did was eat this pretty cunt out, darling n’ you already forgot my name?”

You shiver - both at his mean little tone and the absolutely sinful sight between your shaky thighs. Nanami’s lips plump and irritated, eyes foggy - glasses even more so with all the sloppy dredges of spit and your slick.

Shit, you think he’s never looked prettier. 

“Is that so?”

It’s all you hear before you’re hit with his glasses being gently placed onto your nose bridge - followed shortly by the realization that oh, you said that out loud. But Nanami basks in your sudden shyness, giving your lips a chaste, lingering peck. “You dirtied my glasses, y’know. Now you have to make up for that on top of the rent.”

And by the feeling of his thick tip kissing at your pussy lips, you had a very good idea about how you’d be making up for it. Making a mess. Sliding the curve of his head up and down. Up and down up and down up and-

“B-but don’t forget.” you manage to grit out by the time he’s nudging his divot against your clit. “You have to make- hah- make up for-” 

In a fluid motion, you’re reaching your fingers to dig into the irresistible tan skin at his hips, all hard muscle and the thick fabric of where he’d pulled his pants down just enough. You press down on his bulging back pocket, smirk growing at the familiar flash of hot pink you could spy, “-my panties.”

The moment the obscene little accusation leaves your lips, you give a soft tug forwards. Nanami’s towering body being pulled easily to push his weeping tip past your puffy folds. 

“F-fuck.” he’s throwing his head back at the feeling. “You hngh- saw, huh?”

Oh, if he hadn’t been imagining this the moment he’d stepped inside your apartment then Nanami thinks he might’ve just passed out right then and there. 

Because you were so warm, so addictive wrapped around his cock - even when he’s barely even in. That he just has to keep going - after all, it’s for the rent, right?

It’s what he likes to think.

It’s what he whispers - over and over into your open mouth as he bullies his thick cock past your gummy entrance. Letting your plush walls suck the ever-loving soul out of him with each lazy, lingering grind just to fit himself inside. 

“O-oh! Shit-” your nails leave jagged red marks down Nanami’s broad shoulders when he stuffs you full. Desperate. “Y-you’re so big, Ken–” 

At this, you feel Nanami’s girth grow even wider, stretching your walls until it felt like he was molding your poor pussy to the shape. Just reaching into your lungs. You squeal, “Wait- you got bigger- what-”

“I know I know, You got it, my love.” he’s soothing your cries with sugary kisses at the corners of your mouth. Drawing slow, methodical circles on your clit in time with his experimental thrusts. “You got it. You can take it. Shhh shh-” He’s drinking in your cute mewls, cupping your pretty face with his free hand, “You’ll take it right? All of it, like my good girl? You’ve gotta make up for it, right?” At your delirious nod, “Words, pretty.”

“Yes, please.” You buck your hips in a sultry tandem matching his, the cool frame of his glasses still kissing at your skin. “M’gonna take it all like your good girl, Ken.”

Shit, he can feel himself growing even bigger just halfway into you, “Then-” Angling your teary face down to watch the mess down below. The way your greedy cunt was trying to milk each and every inch of him like it was delicious. “-look.”

You can’t tear your eyes away as he delves into you so filthy. 

Not waiting for your pathetic whines about him being “too big” - no, Nanami’s only pulling you back from escaping like some sextoy - his favorite one. Still toying sweetly with your clit while he pushes against that feeble ring of resistance. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Ken!” you’re yelping out when he finally bottoms out. Your swollen folds meeting his drenched hilt, blond tufts of hair brushing up against your pelvis. Sighing, ”Finally.”

“Finally?” he’s dragging out his words with an already-crooked, pussydrunk grin. Eyes wild - bewildered almost at how well you were taking him. “S-seriously? Did you say ngh- ‘finally’, my girl?” Each word has him tapping more strength behind those thrusts, faster. Harder. Spitting out so contendly, “Finally- hah. Such a slut f’me, hm?”

He’s plunging into you like such an animal right now, so harsh that it was almost difficult to pull back. To dare subject himself to not be buried inside your dripping cunt for even a split-second. 

In response, you lick a long stripe up the sensitive area of his neck, splaying out a hand to squeeze Nanami’s pec - and the rapid heartbeat you felt beneath it. “You’re not- ngh- any better.”

“I know.” Nanami leers, unabashedly kneading at your sore tits now. Fucking you harder and harder into the counter. Connecting his sweaty forehead with yours to look you right in the eyes as he gruffs, “I’ve been thinking about fucking this pretty cunt as soon as you opened that door, y’know.”

You feel his cock twitch wildly at the confession, dragging against your gummy walls with his tip. Hitting - oh-so-expertly - that one sensitive honeypot of nerves. Which makes Nanami’s mouth fall slack with what a treasure you were. 

“Y-you’re such a-” you’re moans are syrupy and slurring together now. Holding onto the larger man for dear life, “such a pervert, Ken.”

Shit, you were squeezing around him so hard that it was almost impossible to pull out. Abs straining to keep up the loud staccato of skin-against-skin, and Nanami’s long, jagged rams inside your wet heaven.

Nanami’s nosing down your pulse, letting his hot tongue loll out to catch the salty drops of your tears, “Mhm, only for hngh- you. Because you’re my girl now, aren’t ya?”

So easy for him to trawl out those addictive moans with each drag of the upwards curve of his fat cock. Thick tip hitting your g-spot, your cervix - as if he was branding his name into your pretty pussy from the inside. Sloppy. 

Leaving a bruising little Kento. With his erratic fingers pinching and rolling your clit at the same feverish tempo of his cock bullying inside your cunt - Kento. With his heavy balls smacking against your ass, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure all the way up to his sensitive slit, rubbing up against your succubus walls - Kento. With the way your heels were now digging into those dimples at the bottom of his spine, sure to leave marks with the way you were pulling him impossibly closer. So needy - Kento.

Only getting sloppier. The only thing in your mind right now - Kento Kento Kento-

So, really, it makes sense when that’s the only thing you’re capable of getting out once you cum. It sneaks up on you at first, and then all at once - and before you know it, you’re cumming so desperately all over Nanami’s relentless cock. 

Over and over.

Your thighs spasming, such a slutty ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth with each wave of pleasure he’s forcing out of you by targeting your ravaged g-spot. Only a few more of those sloppy, mean thrusts left in the man himself before Nanami’s spilling into your greedy cunt. 

Painting your gummy walls white with each painful squeeze of his balls, he’s still thrusting - as if on instinct. Shoving his seed deeper and deeper down your cum-filled hole until he’s sure it’s overfilled. 

By god were you a vision, he’s thinking deliriously. Tears pooling at your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, throat to shoot to do anything but whimper when he keeps going in and out in and out in and-

And if he angled his head just right, he could see the hot globs of cum that take to trickling out from your puffy folds, pooling at a mouthwateringly creamy base around his hilt.

“Ah,” Nanami wastes no time squeezing his index into your already-bulging entrance, pumping the cum slobbering out back in. “Better- hah- better not waste any-” He could barely speak right now, cumming harder than he has in his whole life - in fact, his overworked cock was still shooting out wispy spurts of his seed. Like he couldn’t stop. “-after all, y’haven’t made up for all the overdue rent yet, my love.”

A/N. Concept inspired by this NSFW audio by IchigekiVA that my friend sent me <3

Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[neil-gaiman]

Hello. Not an ask really, but a thank you. Your stories have always been some of my favorite but Good Omens especially has stuck with me over the years.

I grew up in the middle of the Bible belt, very fire and brimstone kind of upbringing. My biggest fear when I was little was spontaneous combustion, because I was told I was going to burn for my sins. I was kicked out of Sunday school when I was eight for asking too many questions. I thought there was something wrong with me.

Until I was in middle school and I read Good Omens. It was the first time in my life that I felt that maybe I wasn't a horrible person for having questions. Aziraphale and Crowley were like my best friends. And now, years later I still smile every time I read it. And the show, the show is phenomenal. I absolutely adore it and can't wait for S3.

It took a long time, but I've finally reached a place where I'm ok with who I am, and I don't think I would've gotten there if it hadn't been for you and Sir Terry Pratchett's book.

So thank you.

I'm so glad we helped!

[6gumi]

jealous little angel.

synopsis ﹒” oh mr. sunday 、you really need to work on your jealousy ! it was just a prank ! ”

pairings﹒sunday x f!reader

cw﹒ nsfw MDNI. jealous s3x 、rough ! sunday :< 、some possessive themes / tendencies 、usage of petnames ( angel-face、dove、etc ! ) 、wall s3x 、semi-public s3x 、slight breeding kink if yew squint ! ^-^ 、he rips your stockings . . hehe 、we luv possessive sunday !

note﹒hai hai ! ! decided to write for sunday . . . ooh he’s so dreamie . . . he’s such a red flag but i luv him . . . x.x hehe here’s a special taggie for a special someone ! @cubffections | reblogs are highly appreciated. if you would like to talk to me, send in rqs or thirsts, feel free to send me an ask ! — rubi ♡

this party was going to drive him to the edge. sunday can't contain his excitement as he examined his surroundings . . . the anticipation of seeing his beloved made his heart race. he knows you’re waiting for him, dressed in something that's bound to drive him wild. It's maddening, the way you tease him, playing with his emotions. he steps forward, closing the huge door softly behind him. the scent of you permeates the air, and he can't help but inhale deeply, relishing the familiar comfort it brings. sunday knew you were off talking to a few ipc members here and there, so he took his sweet time trying to find you, savouring every step.

rounding the corner, he spots you in profile, your body bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light. the sight of you in that red lace nightgown, the way your breasts sway with each step, is enough to make his cock ache. it’s an irresistible sight, and sunday moves toward you with predatory intent. but wait . . . why were you speaking with someone else? sunday’s smile faded . . . lost in the immediate shuffle of emotions as he examined the man that was way too close to you for comfort, that dopey smile on that man’s face wasn’t fooling anyone . . and he was aware of that. his vibrant gaze slowly faded away, clouding the atmosphere with nothing but tension. he clenched his fists as hard as he could, enough for his nails to draw blood to his delicate skin.

sunday really couldn’t stand it.

he couldn’t stand seeing you with someone else. even so, he knew very well you were doing this on purpose just to tease him . . . seeing you having such a great time with someone else triggered a primal protective instinct within him. the way you touched that man’s shoulder . . . those pretty doe eyes of yours staring into someone else’s eyes other than his . . . the way your breasts squeezed together when you crossed your arms, fuck. he couldn't ignore the need to discipline you when you behaved like this, and he knew he had to put you in your place.

with a smooth, fluid motion, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you away from the party, away from your new little friend you made and any distractions. “huh . . . ? sunday?—“

“not another word from you, my love.” sunday tried to act firm . . yet he couldn’t stop his heart from skipping more beats than one at the sight of your cleavage in that god-forbidden revealing dress, the memory of how they felt in his hands coming back to him in a rush. sunday swallows thickly, his gaze locked on your exposed cleavage. he can almost smell your arousal now, faint but undeniable. "what were you thinking? were you trying to seduce that fool?“ he was moving closer. He can't resist the temptation, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek . . . his thumb pressing against your lower lip.

"you know I can't resist you, and you know i can’t stand it when you’re all dolled up talking to someone else but me. have you learnt nothing from the punishments i’ve given you? is that it?” a devilish glint sparkles in his eyes, promising an evening full of sin and pleasure. who knew such an angel like him would have eyes this dangerous. sunday leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "you belong to me . . ." he whispers, taking in the scent of your fragrance, “. . . or have you forgotten that?”

you couldn’t help but shiver against his body, you wanted this as much as he did and he could tell, he knew very well you did. “baby . . . i just wanted to play a little prank on you, ‘s nothing serious . . . promise!” sunday kept his mouth shut as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, tugging you flush against his body. his lips find the nape of your neck, where he plants a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. "it is serious when there’s another man involved," he growls, his voice deep and rough with need. “ . . . and you know i don’t share, darling.”

with a hand, he reaches down and eases your pretty lil’ dress up, exposing your ass. his gloved fingers dig into the soft flesh, tracing the curve before giving it a firm, possessive squeeze. "bad, bad girl.” he murmurs, already envisioning the way you’ll shred under his touch. “what am i gonna do with a bad girl like you . .” sunday examines your facial expression, giving your cheek a gentle slap, inserting his thumb inside your mouth. “should i tie your arms around your back? shove my cock inside this slutty mouth of yours . . . or fill you up with my cum? or maybe . . . i should fuck you in-front of everyone else, let them know that you’re mine and mine alone . . do you want that, my love?”

sunday’s lips curve into a wicked smile, and he nods, his hand still firmly gripping your ass. "i wish i can hide you away from the world, angel-face . . . you need to be taught some more.” he warns, his voice thick with lust. “guess those punishments didn’t work on you . . . how pitiful.”

sunday kept your body pinned against the wall, the grip on your ass never wavering, the feel of his beloved pressed against him driving him wild. he knew you both had to be careful . . his little wings would flutter at the loud sound of music from below, there were still people around . . and getting caught was not something he would want. once you both were in the clear, he doesn't waste any time. with one swift movement, he lifts you even further up against the wall, your legs parting to reveal the wetness between them. sunday’s sinful eyes devour the sight, and he can't help the predatory smile that spreads across his face. "such a naughty girl, wet for me already,"

"now, what do you say we do something about that wetness of yours?" he asks, his voice low and suggestive, the air thick with the promise of pleasure and sinfulness. “ . . ‘s not fair i’m gettin’ punished for a prank . .” you murmured, legs trembling under his hold. sunday chuckles darkly, giving your ass a hard slap, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“now, now, baby . . no need to act all innocent," he teases, his hand never leaving your hip . . gently pinning you with his body even more. “i like how feisty you can get, angel face . . . but there's a time and a place for everything, right?" he purrs, his eyes dark with lust. “you won’t be acting all innocent once i fuck you dumb on my cock.” your husband traces his fingers down your chest, pausing to tease your nipples through the lace of the dress. his mouth finds yours, his lips soft as he explores your mouth with his tongue, taking his time to savor the taste of your lips he yearned for all day. when he pulls away, he's breathing heavily. the young male tsked, shaking his head as he reached your chin again, “you know how i feel about disobedience, correct?”

"tonight i’m going to show you who you belong to," he murmurs, reaching for the hem of the dress. with a swift yank, he pulls it over your head, revealing your body in all its glory. “the man you will belong to until the end of time.” sunday’s eyes drink in the sight of your black stockings, licking his lips. "you’re not getting away from me anytime soon, my love, i hope you and your pretty little head realize that.” he asks, his voice thick with desire as he starts to tug the stockings down.

“you’re not escaping me, angel-face.” he growls, his hand gripping the delicate fabric of the pair stockings you wore . . . with a swift and violent motion, he tears them down your legs, the sound of the material tearing filling the empty hall. he relents, pulling back just enough to grip your inner thigh, his grip firm but not oppressive. . . admiring the rip he caused with your stockings, giving him easier access to those pretty panties you wore.

sunday’s eyes gleam with a deranged excitement, gripping your hips, positioning himself at the entrance of your pussy . . giving it one painful slap. "you’ll thank me for this someday," he growls before gently sliding himself inside your wet heat, the friction sending shivers down his spine. “you’ll thank me for claiming you, my dove. you will.”

“a-ah . . sunday . . !” the young halovian’s lips curve into a wicked grin as you gasp, the surprise at the sudden invasion of his cock into your pussy more than apparent. he’s not gentle, not this time. sunday needs to claim you, to make sure you knew who owns you in this moment and forever. his thrusts were harsher than usual, tongue lolling out as you were slowly losing your mind already when his cock filled you completely. “you’re mine, angel. you’ll always be mine," he growls, the possessiveness in his tone thick. he pounds into you with desperation to get his message across your head, the rhythm erratic, as if he's trying to claw his way into your soul . . fingers nearly turning white as they dug into the flesh of your hips, pulling them back to meet each thrust of his cock.

his own heat was rising, the scent of sweat snd sex filling the air around you. with how loud you were moaning, he was almost certain someone would catch you both. “let the heat pass through you, and i’ll mark you. i’ll claim you, my love.” he was going to breed you, to leave no doubt that you were his. his thrusts became more erratic, more urgent, as he fights to push aside the thoughts that threaten to consume him. the single thought of his seed filling you only intensifies his need to dominate, to control . . to keep you all to himself.

"nobody will take you away from me. nobody.” sunday grinds his hips against you, his cock sliding against your tight entrance. sunday already came inside you multiple times the previous times you both had intercourse, but it's not enough. he wants your body to be filled with his seed. his fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he thrusts forward, filling your cunny with his throbbing dick. sunday’s eyes roll back as he relishes in the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him once more . . only raising his urge fill you up even more. “s—so tight, so perfect. i wish i could fill you up every day . . let everyone know you’re mine.” sweat drips down his forehead as he drives into you with a newfound fervor. each thrust is a powerful assertion, “easy now . . you don’t want us to get caught now, do you?" his voice is a low, gravelly growl, laced with desperation.

“sunday . . f-feels weird . . feels like i’m goin’ stupid . .” drool slipped away from your lips, a chuckle left sunday’s lips as he slowed down his thrusts . . giving you a moment to adjust to his size again, taking that moment to kiss and mark your neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin. “you were sent to me by the angels of this world,” he whispers, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. “you look so pretty pressed up against the wall like this . . . are you enjoying yourself?”

“fuck . . yes, yes!” sunday’s eyes flare with delight at your whine, your need for him clear, and it makes him even more aggressive in his thrusts. sunday was close, so close. he leaned over your shoulder, his teeth finding their mark on the juncture between their delicate skin of neck and shoulders, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. “mine, mine, mine . . ." he whispered against your ear, burying himself deeper and deeper, caging your hands above your head, holding them there as he filled you completely, ensuring that when you cum, you cum for him and only him. he’s not going to let you go.

with one final, brutal push of his cock, the halovian came inside your aching cunny, flooding your walls with his seed. he held you tightly against his body, shifting gently further into the wall. his release was intense, seed spurting deep inside as some dripped down on the floor. he nestled close against your neck, breathing heavily, refusing to let go of you even after he emptied himself inside. “ . . . so tell me, angel face, did you learn your lesson?”

© 6GUMI 2024. modifying 、translating 、sharing my works on other platforms 、or considering them as yours is strictly prohibited.

[lovingjingyuan]

I wonder: How would hsr boys react to someone trying to take pics up ur skirt? This is an unhinged thought that I’ve thought to long, please cure this weird thinking.

Characters: Avneturine, Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday, Boothill

Aventurine

When Aventurine caught sight of a creepy man attempting to take inappropriate photos under your skirt while you were dress shopping for clothes, he was appalled and disgusted. 

“Check this green dress out. It’s like the color of an aventurine. I think it would look dashing on you” He threw in a little wink with his words, while deliberately trying to divert your attention away from the unsettling situation. 

With a reassuring smile he added, “this one's on me, spend freely.” He presented you with the beautiful dress on a hanger, while planning on taking you to the evening ball hosted by the IPC for the executives. 

Oh but he makes sure in the background he discreetly makes sure to contact someone from the IPC technology department to delete every piece of data, wiping everything off that creepy man’s phone. He also arranged a few of his IPC bodyguards, instructing them to follow that man so he can deal with him ‘personally’ later.

Jing Yuan

(Husband♡) Jing Yuan is a gentleman. He doesn’t want to concern you with these, wanting to save you the embarrassment and tainting your mind of peace. What truly astonishes him is the fact one of his very own staff members working at the Seat of Divine Foresight is involved in such despicable behavior. Towards his lover too!

“Ahem ahem,” he clears her throat, catching your attention. “Love, could you spare a moment and help me sort out these files?”

As you approach him he slickly wraps an arm around your waist pulling you into his embrace. He just can’t bear the thought of anyone seeing you in such a vulnerable way. Anyone that’s not him :( he loves his darling too much for anyone to be ogling at you. 

Without any sort of explanation he sat you down on his chair and covered your lap in a blanket. You’re confused and puzzled by his random action but he’s fuming in anger under his facade smile. 

He’s determined to address this issue in the most “legal” way possible. If he could.

Bladie!!!

He would either glare intensely at the point to the point the creepy man would delete the picture out of sheer intimidation. Orrrrr, Blade might just go over and greet them with his sword. As simple as that 🤷‍♀️

His glare alone is a death sentence, especially when he’s protecting his beloved. He loves you very much; just has a hard time expressing it!

Sunday

How could anyone commit such sinful and absurd acts, escapilly towards his beloved! He frowns upon any lewd or disrespectful behavior. Sunday would be absolutely speechless and consumed by fuming rage and disgust, staring at your offender. 

Regaining his composer, he approaches you with a mask smile hiding the intense emotions he felt, “Just a moment,” he says, glancing at you. “We mustn’t  be late for our outing my dear,” He extends one hand out for your hand. Despite his calm demeanor, his other hand clenched tightly behind his back. 

He averts his gaze directed towards the man behind you. “Please report to the BloodHound they will like to meet with you,” he says, his voice with strained restraints. 

Sunday hurriedly leads you away. Although Sunday may be a forgiving priest he had limits which that man crossed. He;s immensely disappointed that something like this would occur in Penacony’s dreamscape where everyone is supposed to be and feel relaxed in the hands of The Family. And he’s more upset it occurred to his beloved. 

Boothill

he will confront and make a scene cause you're his darling.

Boothill wants to spit out the most profound language but his system won't let him. seeing a man taking pictures of his darling? Fudge no! unacceptable!

"Muddle Fuger, what are you doing?" he tries cussing out the creepy man startling the man with their phone under your skirt.

"Son of a nice lady! What the heck are you doing to my girl?!" He makes a big scene, causing the man to panic because everyone turns their attention to this scene.

he's ready to whip out his revolver and protect his darling. Maybe after this he would take off his hat and put it behind your bum to cover you up as you two walk back from the embarrassing situation.

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I finally finished exams! blah blah blah. I'm bored af summer and I've been play wuwa! I love PGR Roland so I played cause it's from Kuro games. And omg Geshu Lin!!! He looks like Jing Yuan thats why I like him.

Avneturine Rant: Also I can't help this but I'm becoming obssed with Avneturine. I showed my friend an edit of him. she said he's so fine cause she like white blonde men. I'm starting to fall so inlove with him now! Same level of love with Jing Yuan. I can't Aveneturine is too charming. Didn't like him much at first but god his backstory and that mini anaimation how could I be so Blind! Same situtaion with Jing Yuan.

Also gonna update now

[chososdiscordkitten]

Kneel.

Synopsis: pt 2 of this fic ^-^

Pairing: Priest!Nanami x Fem!Reader Content: pwp, not as much church stuff as the last one, lots of flirting, breaking church vows, nanami trying to justify his actions as permissible, lots of pleading to his god, hand stuff, rough (?) sex, cream pie, multiple orgasms

Taglist: @eliuriastwo @ingojo

MDNI

It plagued him. The severe tension ran thick every single Sunday after mass. Where you would sit in his office chair- this look of smugness on your expression with the corner of your lip curled as though you were aware of the torment you were inflicting onto him. 

Insinuating conversations of the carnal sins you would confess to—barely even sins— just thoughts that plagued your mind unwillingly. 

Middle of the third time he saw you- the way your eyes dared to sparkle as you confessed the so called disgusting thoughts to him. His mind started putting the pieces together. 

“Cold showers aren’t working anymore, Father. I had to. I had to rid myself of the hellfire that burned in me.” Your lips bordered on smiling as you watched the Father lower his gaze. 

He didn’t know when, but his index and thumb had started toying with the little fly of his zipper, flipping it up and down—something to keep his hands busy as you spoke. 

“I know that must be a sin, isnt it father?” you placed your hands between your knees, leaning over in the slightest and exposing even more of the crevice of your chest to him. His eyes tried to avoid the tempting ploy. 

Little wired glasses on the bridge of Nanami’s nose as his eyes betrayed him- Unwillingly, they flashed down to your breasts, catching himself and looking back up to your face. 

You raised your eyebrows in the slightest, as though you had caught on to his urge to look. 

Nanami cleared his throat, pulling off the little glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Bible- says it is, yes. Against the sixth commandment-” Looking back to your expression that seemed even more unbothered than before. 

“If it is a sin,” you whispered, pinching your eyebrows in question of the Father’s faith. “Then why does it help?” 

Nanami cleared his throat for what seemed like the hundredth time in those 30 minutes. “God made us sexual creatures,” he mumbled, trying to make it sound as business-like as he could. 

You let out a little giggle- something that sounded like a siren trying to lure him into a trap. “Then god made me too sexual.”

Nanami inhaled- taking a little swipe at his lip with the tip of his dry tongue, parting his lips and averting his gaze. “How…” he inhaled sharply, “How did it feel?” barely legible, but the words deepened your smirk into something crueler.

A sigh of contentment left your lips, “As though I had chipped away at the temptation in the slightest.” you took a deep inhale- the skin of your chest pressing against the edge of your low cut top and daring to spill. 

“It felt so good, Father. Freeing almost.” You continued, seeing Nanami’s blush spread through his cheeks down his neck in the slightest. 

The thought of how freeing it would feel had he acted as callously as you did in your own desires made the Father realize he needed a freezing shower by the time he went home. He couldn’t give in as quickly as you did. 

His hand halted the little flipping movement on his zipper. Gulping in the slightest and leaning back into his chair- “And your prayers… didn’t help?” trying to change the daring topic he had brought on. 

“If I could be honest, father?” you sat up, pushing your shoulders back and lightly tilting your neck. Collarbones exposed to his nervous eyes with that same self-satisfied smile on your painted lips. 

“Please, be honest.” 

“I think my prayers have caused the opposite effect.” 

Nanami nodded softly, thinking up something else to offer you besides the strained words he practically forced himself to say. 

“Maybe a place in the community?” he asks, thinking that if you and he try to debrief these issues, you’ll get nowhere but a very frustrated priest who just wants to ‘help’. 

He inhaled sharply, opening a little drawer in his desk and reaching for a flier, “Next Sunday, we’re having an Easter event for the children- you could find your place in our community.” 

Placing the little flier onto the wood in front of you, your eyes scanning the colorful sheet with a half cocked smile. “Help serve the food, or just stay for a while. You’re welcome to it.” 

And the following Sunday, you showed up bright and early, sitting through Easter Sunday mass. Noticing that, compared to other times, the Father wore a black short-sleeved dress shirt this time. 

He excused it because he knew it would be hot that day and was getting ahead of an issue before it arose. 

“Excuse me for being so indecent today,” he joked in front of the congregation before continuing his sermon. 

But the little flexes of Nanami’s bicep strained against the tight sleeve of the shirt when he grasped the side of the podium. Or how, with every inhale, his plentiful chest would press against the buttons of the black shirt in strain. 

It made that Sunday even more special. His arms were exposed, and how that shirt was at least a size too small for the man. Tempting. It made you wonder if it was you trying to lure in the tortured man or the other way around. 

And when the service ended- a few stolen glances and raised brows at the stumbling of his words before all the church people gathered at the back of the building. A patch of grass and a few tables covered in colorful plastic tablecloths. 

You did as he asked, served the children and the churchgoers food and waited for them to start their hunt for plastic eggs. And your effort didn’t go unnoticed; the Father would look over every now and then to see you happily serving the people of the church. Glad to see you enjoying yourself.

As though his attempt to help you was finally working- maybe all you needed was community and congregation to rid yourself of the shameless confessions you’ve made in his office. 

But you- now standing on one end of the grass patch, derived from any sort of community the Father thought you were participating in. 

Though it didn’t bother you, making friends with bitter church women was neither your task nor the conquest you sought. 

But when your eyes caught the Father excusing himself from a few people of his parish- dashing into the church’s back entrance- you chose to follow. 

Placing the little cup of lemonade onto the table before walking past the doors the Father had dashed past. Following him to the little cracked door of his office, hearing the light shuffling of papers. 

You knocked twice- pushing the door open to see the Father jump at the sudden noise and the sight of you at his doorstep. 

“You haven’t said a word to me, Father.” you thrummed, stepping into his office and closing the door behind you. Be it the general conquest or how delectable he looked in that tight short sleeve, you wanted to push even further this time. 

He let out a little sigh with a smile, “You’ll have to excuse me- today has been very laboring.” his brows furrowed with stern eyes looking for the pages he swore he left at the very top of a stack of paper. 

“Anything I could do to help?” taking on a sweet tone as you stepped closer to him. 

Nanami let out a little laugh, almost in disbelief. “You’ve done more than enough to help today,” he said, his shoulders stiff from your presence standing at his side. 

“I couldn’t ask for more,” he whispered, feeling your eyes pierce through him as he moved the stack of papers- the cotton around his bicep suffering from the flex of his arms. 

Looking down at his hands. Spreading the papers, tantalizing thick fingers with a prominent vein standing proud at the top of his hand. Swallowing lightly at the image in your mind. 

“I want to help, Father. Tell me how I can assist you.” reaching down to the top of his hand and placing yours atop his- halting its movements and causing Nanami to look over at you as though you were deranged. 

Nanami parted his lips- derailing his train of thought entirely from the seemingly innocent touch. “What are you looking for?” you murmured, lightly caressing your thumb against his skin. 

The first thing that popped into his mind was nowhere near priestly or godly. But he gathered his thoughts and mustered the words. 

“The choir-” he inhaled a choked breath, “They need the lyrics for the service on Wednesday,” he whispered, looking at your low eyes with your hand still atop his. 

“Your parish made you leave an event to look for song lyrics?” you teased- as though that was some lame excuse he made up on the spot. 

Nanami let out a little laugh, pulling his hand from beneath yours and going back to looking for the pages again. “I know,” he mumbled, but you weren’t quite done urging you to be there to help. 

You placed your hand over his again, looking at him with all the earnesty you could muster. “You are such a good priest, father.” picking up his hand from the desk and holding it in both of yours. “If you need help-” and there went the corner of your lip curling with sadistic intent. 

“You can ask for it.” you assured, caressing his hand lightly as his lips parted with an inhale, “You can ask me for it.”

His heart was pounding in his chest—the words themselves weren’t filthy. Were they spoken by anyone else, it would’ve been heard as a simple offer.

But the honey soaked in the way you said it- the sparkle in your eye and the tenderness in which you held his hand. Nanami knew you were not offering an innocent way of assisting him. 

Nanami felt it in his gut. It made his mind fuzzy- made him unable to think coherently. 

It made him forget the white collar around his neck, the years he had spent as a priest and at the center of a church, and his vows—and for the first time in a very long time, his mind wasn’t judging the thoughts that raced inside of it. 

You took a step closer to him—just one step and your chest was mere inches from his. His eyes flashed from your half-lidded ones down to your plush lips. You could feel the little tremble in his palm between your hands.

“I-” he started with an exhale, being able to breathe in the sickeningly sweet aroma of your skin. How it whirred in his mind should’ve been a sin in itself. 

You tightened your grip on his hand, whispering a sweet, “Do you need help, Father?” watching his adam’s apple bob past the white collar around his neck and blinks become hazy. 

The hand atop trailed up his forearm with a ghostly touch, feeling the light goosebumps rise beneath your fingertips. 

It wasn’t till he saw your gaze turn dark- that’s when it clicked in the Father’s mind. That’s when the pieces came together. 

You weren’t some lamb in desperate need of guidance; you weren’t innocent of the invading thoughts that the devil tried to tempt you with. 

‘You were put before me as a test.’ was the one clear thought that broke through the mist in his mind as he looked at you. 

And what he feared most—Nanami knew that if you had continued offering your assistance, he would have failed this test put before him by his cruel god.

Only the sound of a harsh knock startled him from the invading thoughts of what he could do to you in that room—or what you would have done to him had nobody interrupted. 

A parish member cracked the door open- “Father, have you found the-” halting their entry as they looked at the sight before them. Furrowing their eyebrows before Nanami cleared his throat- pulling his hand from yours again. 

“I’m afraid I’ve lost them entirely- I’ll reprint them tomorrow morning.” his tone stern and clear as the parish member nodded- unsure of Nanami’s words as you stood there. 

You flashed a small smile at the parish member- “Father, the deaconess is looking for you.” they continued. 

Only you crossed your arms beneath your breasts and rested back onto the edge of the Father’s desk- too smug for what they had just witnessed. 

“Thank you, I’ll be out in a minute.” 

Hesitatingly, the parish member closed the door and left. Leaving you and the Father in a devastatingly thick with tension room. You placed a hand onto his upper bicep- the same bicep that had been tempting you for the entire service. 

“I’m available anytime you need me, Father,” you whispered before you left the troubled man alone in the room. Your touch lingering on his bare skin as he placed his hands flat onto the surface of the desk. 

The very same desk he was picturing you bent over in his mind a mere few seconds ago.  

His hands were clammy against the surface, an ache rowling in his tummy as he closed his eyes and tried shaking away the thoughts of your breasts daring to spill from the low cut neckline of your dress. 

Or how tight the fabric looked pressed against your hips when you walked away from him. 

In the end Nanami was still a man with eyes- not even a priest could control their wandering gaze. 

He wanted to tell you- he needed to say to you that he couldn’t help you anymore. That little arrangement after Sunday mass, where you would lure him in with descriptions of the proclivities taking place late at night, couldn’t happen anymore. 

Nanami was sure that the next time he saw you, he would tell you to get out of his church and find someone better suited to your troubles. 

Yet he sat there again, twiddling his thumbs to avoid the urge to reach for his zipper. 

A week of cold showers were, as you said- they didn’t fucking help. On mornings when Nanami would wake up with urge bursting from his boxers or by just remembering the sweet tinge the air had once you left- the appendage between his legs would twitch in betrayal. 

The realization that you were a test made him even more intrigued, as though it pushed him further into your clutches. He was desperate to know if he would succeed in this test his god put before him. 

And sitting in that chair, hearing you speak of the filth that raged in your mind without shame. 

A feigned chime of disappointment in yourself when you fell back into the temptation again, but this time, Nanami saw it was false. That the slight curl your lips had wasn’t a defense mechanism; you found humor in the trouble inflicted on him. 

As though you could smell the fear in his very soul from the chance of succeeding in enticing him. 

And yet, Nanami still sat there listening. A masochistic churn in his brain had him listen to every temptation. 

“You’ve never felt this way, Father?” you whirred, the amused look in your eyes masked by the fanning of your lashes. “As though you started something you couldn’t stop doing?”

Yes, he did know the feeling. He knew once he met you he wouldn’t have been able to stop seeing you- speaking to you. Even if you were trying to bewitch him, he knew in his mind he wouldn’t be able to stop saying yes to your requests for these sessions. 

“Has it helped?” He murmured, straightening his back and interlocking his hands. 

You let out a little giggle, “If anything- it hasn’t. But I can't stop.” taking a little nibble at your bottom lip, “It makes me crave more.” That was the sentence that made Nanami look at you more dangerously than before- 

Now, Nanami knew you needed more, and you didn’t care to stop the urges. 

Keeping a low tone, “I yearn for more.” you spoke- clearly so he could hear. Nanami gulped, tingles rushing into his cheeks making his brain nervous. “For the warmth of another person.” 

Nanami had to bite his tongue- pretend he heard your thoughts as a church priest and not as a man. 

“I’m sure you’ve never felt this way Father. You’re an extraordinary priest- It must be jarring to hear my inner monologue.” You spoke softly, so sure he would agree.

Nanami inhaled, “Not at all. Life as a priest is very lonely.” he smiled, his mouth dry at the words that dared rumble in his mind. “I’ve found myself craving the warmth of another person before. It’s normal.” 

Except it fucking wasnt- not for a man with as much ressolve as he did. Not once in those ten years of being in the priesthood did he find himself craving warmth to surround and twitch around him as badly as he did now. Especially now. 

And when the time came to walk you out of his office, you stood at his desk. 

He took the place next to you in the very spot he pictured you bent over in before. Standing the very same way you were the last Sunday you were in his office. 

Only this time- there was no chatter outside his window from the event. In that church it was only you and him. 

And as though you knew, you looked into his eyes, testing the space between you, leaning in mere millimeters at a time. 

And the Father, tormented by the choice of stepping back or falling into the temptation you had to offer. Your lips parted as you gazed into Nanami’s eyes, his jittery and nervous pupils trying to figure out if you were getting closer or if he was just crazed enough to picture it.

“Can you help me, Father?” you whispered, raising your hand to his bicep and touching it lightly. 

His lips were agape- inhaling as much air into his dry mouth as he thought of the words to say. The only ones he could process; “How?” 

Your nose no more than an inch from his- you inhaled, a fire burning in your tummy and pooling between your legs at his dissolve. “Touch me.” was all you could whisper before he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to yours.

Warmth. The warmth of a human he had craved for days now pressed against his lips made his shoulders shiver. Raising his hands from his side and placing one as lightly at the side of your neck. The other lacing behind your back and pressing against the little curve above your bottom. 

His lips took a gentle approach- slotting them with care against yours as his hands urged you to rest on the edge of his desk. 

Burning in his loins was an ache- an ache that grew with the haste he made in slipping his tongue past his lips and against yours. Leaving behind any last reservation he had to stop this before it went too far. 

Whispers of groans took form of small whimpers as your hands dragged down his torso and guided his hips to rest between your thighs. Never did he appreciate how good this felt before- the feeling of tongues slathering against each other and being able to taste you on his tongue. 

Never in his days before becoming a priest did he appreciate the feeling of warm plush skin beneath his hands, the hand on the small of your back lowering to the clothed swell of your ass and taking a desperate grip. 

The one on your neck lowering to your chest- cupping his hand on the side of your rib with his thumb curled at the bottom of your breast. 

Nanami knew that he could come undone from just this- no stimulation to the leaking with excitement mess in his black slacks, just his hands full of plentiful skin and his lips busy with feeling the muscle of your tongue swirl against his. 

But your hands roamed down to the buckle of his belt, being able to feel his ache press against your thigh. Nanami pulled his lips from yours begrudgingly- “I can’t-” he breathed, slowing your moving hands and hearing his plea. 

“I can’t.” he closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows; only one of your hands reached up to his neck, pulling his head onto your shoulder with your lips at the perfect angle of his ear. 

“You are a good priest,” you whispered, placing a light kiss on his cartilage and continuing your other hand in slowly unbuckling his belt. The tips of your fingers softly grazing the short blonde hair of his undercut. His hands went unmoved from your clothed skin as he fought the mental battle. 

You placed another soft kiss on his warmed ear, “Tell me how long it’s been since you rid yourself of the poison, Father.” you whispered, undoing the button of his slacks slowly as his breath grazed against your collarbone. 

“Far too long.”

You licked your lips at the image of how much seed he’ll spurt- undoing his zipper at an agonizing pace, “Tell me to stop and I will.” you murmured, your breath tickling his ear as your hand rested on his hip. Waiting for his permission. 

Nanami swallowed harshly; his hands had a bruising hold on your skin as you offered what he yearned for on a silver platter. 

“Please,” he whispered, not knowing what he was pleading for.

A little exhale with a giggle grazed Nanami’s ear, “I need to hear you say it.” you whispered, the hand on your button roaming down the side of your thigh and grazing the hem of the skirt you wore. 

“Please touch me.” he whispered- your hand trailed to the band of his briefs, his breathing hitching against your skin with a mean grip formed on your thigh. 

The gasp that left his lips bordered on a whimper as your fingers dipped into his briefs, being able to feel how hard he was immediately. Wasting no time in pulling out his strained desire as he held you closer, bracing for what he had asked for. 

Taking a light hand as you wrapped your fingers around his shaft- heavy and hot in your palm as he inhaled sharply. “You are a good man, Father,” you whispered, starting slow strokes at his crying cock. 

“You deserve to be helped,” 

“To be touched.”

His strained cock threatened to release his mess right then and there- the scent of you filling his nose with the slow strokes of your wrist, added with your assuring words; Nanami swore he was about to. 

But your hand didn’t let him, cutting your strokes short right before you could roll over his cockhead. Opening your mouth and placing your lips onto his neck, lightly lapping at the skin- his groans deepening in response.

Pulling his forehead from your shoulder, pressing his lips onto yours again in urge- Nanami wanted to do as you had asked. He wanted to touch you. But his hands couldn’t focus on anything other than groping at whatever body part he could find. 

His lips moving in unpatterned movements against yours- speeding up the pace of your hand and feeling his groans rumble onto your lips. Your eyes half-lidded and watching the little sheen of sweat form at his blonded hairline. 

Amused at how worked up he was from a few strokes- but your hand isn’t moving fast enough for him. Nanami started bucking his hips into your hand with urge. His balls clenched as he felt the estranged feeling of an orgasm build. 

His nose huffed out strained breaths as his kisses became sloppy, tightening the grip of your hand and watching his brows pinch together. Pulling his lips from you and letting out a drawn out groan. 

Nanami’s hips stuttering as his orgasm rolled over him in hot waves. Oozes of his seed coating your fingers with every thrust he made. And it was so fucking much- it made you regret not hiking your skirt up and taking it inside wether than on your hand.

His breathing was coarse as your wrist assisted in riding him down, kissing softly at your exposed collarbone as his still-hard cock pulsed in your hand. Making you wonder just how backed up he really was. 

As though his hand heard your thoughts, they reached down to the hem of your skirt and started hiking it up. You looked into his eyes—dark and full of want, with a goal shimmering in them. 

Smiling softly, “Father-” you teased, feeling his strong hands grip your bare thighs before roaming back to the little zipper of your top and undoing it slowly, wasting no time in unclasping the band of your bra along with it. 

Pulling back and looking at you- bare and as he had pictured you. 

Nanami didn’t have a thought in his mind- completely mush and with only one goal in mind. Guiding you to lay back on the desk, his hands roaming down to your thighs- being able to see the growing dark spot of your lace panties. 

Your skirt bunched up at your hips as he reached a hand up to his collar. Pulling it off and closing his eyes with a small exhale. Undoing the top button of his black dress shirt and feeling his cock pulse. 

His lips moved in a soft whisper- almost in a prayer. But his hands trailing to the damp center of your lacy panties told you that prayer isn’t working. 

Nanami didn’t pray for the strength to stop- he didn’t want to. He started the prayer of forgiveness knowing that he didn’t want to stop. Some kind of assurance that the sooner he started begging for forgiveness, he would be pardoned. 

A soft gasp left your lips as he traced his middle and index finger up your damp cunt. Looking at the enticing sight with his mouth watering, lightly circling the tips of his fingers onto your perched clit as you hummed. 

His other hand going to his cock- pained and daring to run red from the neglect. You bit your lip softly at the sight, his hair disheveled and an unashamed blush on his cheeks. 

Stopping his prayer and looking at the painting hung on the wall in front of him- a saint looking at him in disgust. He waited a second- as though he was waiting for the voice of his god to come thundering down.

But it didn’t- “Forgive me.” he muttered, placing his fat cock onto your slit. His heavy shaft resting against your clit with a little sigh. 

Bucking his hips with soft grunts as your warmth radiated on the underside of his cock. Frotting his cock against you- another way of justifying his sinning. He wasn’t actually fucking you- so it didnt count right?

But every whimper and moan your lips would make, added with the feeling of his heavy cockhead bumping against your clit made it fucking tempting. As fast as the first orgasm build in his tummy- the second one came even quicker.

And he knew he could hold it- no matter how many thrusts his cock brushed against your cunt with vulgar squelches- Nanami was determined to wait.

But the smile on your lips at the lack of resolve curled into a wicked smile: “Put it inside—please, Kento.” The one time you had said his name—what kind of man was Nanami to deny you such a request?

He pulled his cock from your slick with various strings of your arousal as he angled his tip with your entrance. 

Nanami’s face was troubled, as though he was still hesitating. “Just the tip,” you whispered, smugly knowing he barely had the resolve to hesitate. He would listen to you. 

He gulped with a little grunt, placing his tip at your slick entrance and gasping at the sheer warmth. You hummed lightly when his hips finally pushed in the slightest, pushing past the seal of your cunt with a moan soaked with bliss. 

Unable to remember when he felt such pleasure that made him want to say thank you. 

And as though your cunt was trying to suck him in- his hips didnt stop, “I’m sorry.” he whispered, sinking himself into you and planting a hand onto the wooden desk, allowing himself to lean over on top of you with a drawn out moan. 

You let out a light hiss at the sting of his girth- placing your hands on his back and holding onto him as he stayed still. 

His shoulders trembling and his hips urgent in moving. Even if it was you who was making him go mad- Nanami still had the decency to allow you time to adjust. 

Your breasts pressed against his chest as you waited for his hips to start moving. But he didnt want to, as though having his cock inside of you was still permissable, but the movement of fucking you wouldn’t be. 

“Move-” you hummed, hands braced against the back of his dress shirt with your velvet walls twitching around him- pleading at the Father to give you what you wanted. 

Nanami only let out a shaky breath- “I can’t,” similar to a little sob but laced with a grunt. Your lips pressed against his temple, brushing them against his ear with a smile. 

“Give me what I want.” Whispered and invaded his ear as his grip on the desk turning his knuckles white. “I want this Kento-” you whined, trying to convince him to move- to fuck you like you knew he could. 

“I want you.” 

Nanami groaned at the little clench your walls made around him- “I can feel you trembling-” kissing his ear with a little damp spot left in wake. “Just pull out of me- then push back in.” feeling his hips follow your guidance as though you controlled them.

He whimpered in a breath at the sensation, “Doesn’t that feel good?” you hummed, digging your fingers into his back in the slightest. 

And it did- it felt like heaven on earth for Nanami. And as though he couldn’t control it- he did it again. As slowly as he could, with his tip brushing your gspot on every drag of his cock. And every slow thrust he made- grinding his pelvis against your clit from how deep he was pushing himself in. 

You only whimpered at the slow thrusts- being able to feel the hesitance in the pushes Nanami made. 

One side of him kept the appearance of being kind, making sure to make this about you, whereas the other side of him was yelling at him, pleading with him to speed up- faster and faster. 

Fuck into you as you had been begging him to from the moment you first walked into his church. 

You laced your lips with his again. Had his hands had any more strength, they would have cracked the wood of the desk from how desperately he was gripping. 

Barely able to withstand the sluggish strokes he made- as slow as you had instructed him to. But you pulled your lips from his, want and demand in your eyes as he looked at you- completely broken down and yours in that moment. 

“Fuck me-” you whimpered, watching the urge to make this about you dissipate behind his eyes. 

With one drag of his cock- he jabbed back into you. And again and again- rougher and with intent as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

Nanami didn’t even know what words spilled from his lips- laced with grunts and the crude plapping of his heavy, full balls slapping against your ass. Pleads for nothing in particular- ‘Please, please-’ 

Apologies muttered into your ear for having his way with you, ‘I’m sorry- m’sorry.’

“I have to- I have to-” muttered between his grunts as a mantra to keep him sane.

His frustrations with the chaos you caused in his mind aided in drilling into you with mean thrusts- your whimpers full of content and moans littered with one more request of him- “More.”

And he gave you as much as he had- Nanami had given himself up to you entirely and was fucking glad to do it. His tortured mind had metamorphosed into pure bliss, with his body buzzing in sheer excitement for his second orgasm. 

Grunts with one question- “Can I-” barely legible and laced with the sounds of vile squelching coming from where you linked with him. “Inside,” huffed in the same breath as a groan. 

You huffed a happy exhale- glad he wanted to spill himself inside of you. 

“F-fill m-” was all you managed before he took on a rougher pace- pounding into you as though he was made for it. His skin burned beneath the black clothing and pressing his lips onto yours again. Barely able to kiss you- pearly teeth clashing against yours at every turn of his head. 

The joint groan that left you both when he halted his thrusts- burrowed deep inside of you as your walls clenched around him. Shallow pumps were all he gave before searing, thick seed spilled inside of you. 

Shakingly breathing against your lips as he eased down the pinnacle of his second orgasm. Thinking the realization of what he had done would hit him like thunderous fear- but it didn’t. 

In the moment of the afterglow bliss, Nanami didn’t care what happened after this. He knew in his marrow that this was worth it—you were worth it. 

Even if he had failed the test sent down by his god, Nanami knew he would never have found anything or anyone that gave him half as much serenity. 

Not in the years he had spent in the priesthood did he find half as much peace as he did now. Balls deep in the coated walls of your cunt in the office meant for a godly man. 

That’s what peace was to Nanami at that moment. 

-

(a.n) this was very hot to write ^-^

[dearemilia]

When you get kidnapped

pairings | sunday, aventurine, acheron x gn! reader

tags | a little spoiler for acheron's part but other than nothing is too major, sunday has a little yandere theme, mentions of killing, fluff, hurt to comfort, not proofread

note | God, I finally managed to beat that aventurine boss!! >.< Also, the sunday part is a bit short, sorry about that sunday lovers! :<

Sunday

He finds it funny how someone can think of kidnapping you.

He’s already informed of the plan because of his crows “What utter fools they are, perhaps a little punishment is enough for them to stay away?”

He’ll personally deal with them once his servants capture them.

He will also need to make sure you don’t know about this and that everything is alright and under his control “Dearest, you don’t need to be so worried, alright? Everything is okay”

After dealing with those fools, he’ll take you out on dates! Buying you everything you want and even the ones you don’t want.

All day, he prays for your safety and happiness. So if anyone dares to take that away, he’ll make sure that they’ll pray for their sins.

Aventurine

No one knows what he’s thinking of right now.

His subordinates don’t know whether they should speak up or not “Find them by dawn and if not…I’ll be sure to cut all of your yearly salary to 56%”

One thing for sure is that they are already searching for you.

It may seem like he’s calm but really, deep down he’s afraid of losing the only good person in his life.

Once he has you back, he’ll shower you with love. You’ll find in your shared room full of new clothes, jewelry, and items you mentioned to him years ago!

And don’t worry, he’s already dealt with the people who were involved in your kidnapping even those who only participated a little bit of it.

“I’m so sorry you had to experience that, my love…” He says while hugging you as you both lay down “I’m truly sorry…This is all my fault…” 

You gently grab his face and press your lips onto his forehead “This is none of your fault…You didn’t know and I didn’t know, it just happened, okay?” You smiled at him.

All Aventurine can think of is how lucky he is to have you.

Acheron

Okay, who would be dumb enough to kidnap you? Like seriously, who?

Your kidnapping happened while she was out buying peaches and you were at home.

As soon as she stepped foot onto your home, she knew something wasn’t right. Noticing how clean the house was.

She balled her hand into a fist, unsheathing her sword.

Just as you were panicking about what happened to you, what was going on, if you were going to be killed?

You feel a familiar pair of arms, wrapping around you, carrying you bridal-style “A-Acheron? Is that you…?” You feel yourself sob, feeling relieved.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you there” You rapidly blinked your eyes as Acheron took off your blindfold.

Acheron places you somewhere safe “Could you…close your eyes and ears for me? This will be quick but it might get a little bloody” 

You nod, turning your head away from the screams of horror from your kidnappers.

You don’t feel any sympathy for them, why should you? They were the ones who were stupid enough to think they could kidnap an emanator’s lover.

[moonsaver]

You know what.... guardian angel yan!Sunday.

Always accompanies you everywhere. A gentle hand on your shoulder, eyes constantly scanning the crowd, eyebrows knitted from concentration, as he searches for threats, maybe even familiar faces. Wings sometimes flutter on your arm, alerting you to stay cautious, instantly covering your eyes if something goes awry. Sometimes you can see the other eyes, peering down at you from his halo.

The moment he senses danger, he gives you a sharp look. Close your eyes, and leave it to him. And for the next few minutes, pretend you don't see. Pretend you don't hear. Cover your eyes if you must. Do not glance at his bloodstained wings once he tells you to open your eyes. Look into his eyes. His glowing, golden eyes that pierce through you, and every sinner who dares to harm you.

He swears he's just doing his job. Just let him take you everywhere. No, he's not the reason that strange man scurried away after talking to you. No, the crowd can't see him. No, no one dares to look at you – not when he stands close behind you, eyes judging every soul who dares to meet them. You still can't shake off the feeling of being targeted. You saw something in your changing room out of the corner of your eye? Hm? Oh, no, it wasn't him. Surely, he can respect your privacy a little bit?

At night, he insists he doesn't need rest. No, no, dear – his job is to protect you. He needs to protect you. You can sleep soundly, and let him sit on the edge of your malleable bed, humming you to sleep. Don't worry, you didn't see anything. You feel something stare at you? It must have been one of his many eyes on his halo fixating on you. Curious little things, dont mind them.

And unfortunately for you, his obsession only seems to be growing. It gets lonely, you know? And you're his absolute weakness. The concern in your voice when you ask him if he's hurt, the worrying over at any scratches he might have (rarely, if at all. He lets you worry over him, anyway). Oh dear.. your pretty, glistening eyes under the moon, your cute face thats all knotted up in confusion and worry..

He can't help it. You are intoxicating. No matter how stained or unstained you are, how sinless or sinful you are.. he adores something about you. The way your chest rises and falls, the predatory gleam in his eyes when your form is completely vulnerable behind him.. oh, dear.. he has to protect a trusting thing like you. But, oh, dear.. who will protect you from him?

Do not see. Do not hear. Don't mind the gloved hand that rubs your wrist, don't mind the whispering of his voice into your ears, daring you to see, daring you to respond.. he'll take care of this. And he'll take so much better care of you. Just.. don't struggle when his grip hardens a bit on your wrist. Don't worry when you feel his lips ghost your neck. Don't worry at all.

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

☆ Silver's Sinful Sunday ☆

Week One: Alastor

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Smut essentially, Fem Reader, Alastor has a massive breeding kink for some reason, mainly mindless rambles of a tired woman who's down bad, tentacles 👀, no use of y/n

Word Count: 466

“Fuck!” You groaned into your sheets, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Alastor pounded into you from behind. 

It wasn't like him to be so careless — so needy. . . But when he saw you in that pretty little dress about to leave with Angel Dust, he almost couldn't resist the urge to rip it off of you and have you right there in the lobby. 

With the way your hips naturally swayed when you walked, something within him snapped and he couldn't let you leave — not when someone else would get to see how fucking perfect you looked. 

But only he would get to see the way you looked so beautiful — so perfect — constantly coming undone beneath him as he rammed into you, whether it be in missionary or thunderous backshots that have the head of his angry cock bumping up against your cervix in a way that should be painful, but somehow it floods your body with pleasure every time. 

“Such foul language, Mon chéri.” The static voice growled in your ear, his breath growing ragged as he bit into your shoulder, his sharp teeth drawing blood that elicited a whiny moan from you, muffled by the mattress. 

He was getting close once again — you'd lost count of how many times he filled you up in just one session. You stopped being able to count after the third time. 

One tentacle slid between your open legs, rubbing against your clit while two others held your hands behind your back. 

You clenched around him so beautifully — he could only imagine your fucked out face while you milked his cock during yet another one of your orgasms. 

His thrusts grew sloppy, a tell-tale sign that he was even closer than before. . . You knew you weren't going anywhere. . . You knew the dress was not only torn to shreds, but had a sinful mix of your cum, slick, and his cum in a puddle beneath you. 

His cock twitched inside of you and you felt him cum again — it was hard not to feel it with him so deep inside you. He thrusted again, just to feel your pretty little cunt around him before he pulled out and flipped you over gently. 

“Who gets to see you like this? Hmm?” He hummed, rubbing the head of his cock against your sensitive clit. 

You were sure your brain was gonna melt if he tried to lure one more orgasm out of you. 

“You, Alastor. . . Only you!” You slurred as he towered above you, his radio dial eyes flickering with lust and compassion as he stared down at you.

His girl. 

The only soul in the universe he could be himself around. . . The only one he would want to fuck over and over again.

“Right you are, Mon chéri!” 

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hi!! I’m a little lurker who only did one request once and I forgot what happened to that one so I have a different request!!

can you…uhm…write a little thing about priest!fyodor who believes reader to be a god but reader just a normal human?

And like human is a virgin and…you know where I’m going with this.

A worshiper Fyodor taking his beloved God’s virginity by riding reader until he passes out from how many times Fyodor bounced on his cock.

idk I just can’t stop thinking about it but I don’t think I worded it pretty well and you have pretty words soooo…

I’m sorry for bothering you with this imma just

go back to lurking once more…

but if I could bother you again? Can I be 🕶️ anon please?

This is similar to something I have started long ago! On my old blog! But it got deleted along with my drafts :’)

Dom!reader x sub!priest!fyodor - reader is gender neutral

Warning: pegging (I use dick), use of condom (wow scary), no prep, cum play (licking), hierophilia, corruption, taking virginity, worshipping, fucking in a church, dacryphilia, handjob, cumming untouched, mind break, sub space, bruises, god - worshipper relationship

It happened the moment he laid his eyes on you. When you walked in, pass the grand wooden door and slandered through the small halls. That miraculous day was Sunday, morning to be precise, and you came in late for the morning chant. Everyone who sat on the benches turned their head to look at you, some with scorn, some with a mocking grin. You looked unfazed and went straight to the first row, keeping eye contact with one single person, the priest in charge.

That cold attitude despite the loud voices, the way your every move was as smooth and elegant as clear water. Your expression after sitting down, lips shut while keeping your arrogant eyes on him, as if to judge him, to attest to something. All that appeared divine in his eyes, superior even, it caused a shudder to run down his spine. He had never felt such a pressing sensation before, it was the first time.

You were staring at him so much, though he couldn’t read your intentions. Nothing, only emptiness. A gentle breeze, that brought forth comfort, turning into an icy storm capable of destruction. These words would be perfect to describe you, or how his view of you, because everyone else seems to think otherwise. Most of them scoffed about you coming in late, those little complains soon changed into more vicious words. Like a devils curse, causing the once friendly guests to sin.

“Dear father, may we continue with the morning prayers?” Among the low whispers of the devil, a voice akin to an angels emerged. “Excuse me..?” Fyodor murmured, eyes subconsciously darting to the direction of the sound. Once again, it was you who called out to him. A blush crept onto his cheeks when he noticed your piercing gaze, it was a little embarrassing that he dazed out there. “Yes, of course, pardon my inattentiveness.” The priest said, glancing at you a last time before focusing on his duties. Or at least he tried, because he couldn’t concentrate. The entire time he found himself stealing glances at you, watching you. This wasn’t like him, he couldn’t even recognise himself.

From then onwards, he found himself searching for your eyes or attention. It began with him asking around about you, then it gradually turned into him actively seeking you out. Your meetings became more frequent, and more private as well. One day, he found you kneeling in the confession box, boringly staring through the bars. He quickly positioned himself, then asked, “what brings you to me, my child?”

Seeing you up close was a new experience, he felt the tingly sensation crawling around his body again. “Father, I’m here because I believe you have something to confess.” You said with a voice coated in sweet honey. “Me, confess?” The priest mumbled, obviously baffled by your words no matter how he adored your voice. “That’s right, I can see. If you have something to say, do it now.” After hearing you out, he swallowed the lump in his throat, before smiling at you meekly and admitting, “I fear I’m not loyal to my god anymore.”

It took a lot out of him, a servant of god, to utter these words. Of course it wasn’t without reason. Simply being in your presence made him feel special and watched, as if those nonchalant eyes of yours were the watching gaze of god. He couldn’t explain it, it was a chilly feeling, but at the same time it burned him from the inside. “Speak, father.” You spoke, then he suddenly slammed his hands against the wall separating the two of you. “My lord, you don’t have to speak politely with me. I, Fyodor, this lowly subject of yours, am ready to serve you with all my heart.” The male announced, smiling at you in delight, cheeks rosy as he declared you as his new god.

Anyone who heard this would have thought he was out of his mind, staring at him with a face that screams the word disbelief. But not you, contrary to what one would expect, your expression stayed neutral. “My subject? Lord?” You questioned his choice of vocabularies, tilting your head to the side. “Yes, oh lord, please let þis servant worship you.” Then, to your surprise, the father you were supposed to confess to kneeled down and clasped his hands together, praying to you with a sickening obsession.

That shivering, oppressive feeling didn’t leave him alone, it gnawed at him and told him this was the right thing to do. He couldn’t care less what he was supposed to do or not, all that wasn’t important anymore. Since his deity has come down and granted him an audience, he only has to follow their- your orders from now on.

Whatever got him acting this way was all in his head, you were nowhere near of being a god. Quite the opposite, you were just a human like him, and you found his actions irritating. But you weren’t any better, you didn’t correct him, rather, you liked that desperate look on his face. You wanted to test his limits, to see how far he’d go for you. In truth you enjoyed playing god for him, depending on who you are asking this might be even more twisted than what fyodor was pulling off.

It started with you getting him to do bothersome stuff for you, sometimes it also became materialistic. Other times you would just converse with him and enjoy his company. He’d ask tausend questions about you, some trivial, some existential ones. Most of the time you’d put up with his antics, acting like a benevolent and nice deity. That’s when one day, one of his curiosities caught you off guard. It was when he asked you:

“my lord, do.. you want me to comfort you?” You stared at him with furrowed brows and scoffed “comfort? Where did you get that idea?” “You look stressed my lord, I wish I could do something for you.” Fyodor said, he was on his knees in front of you, who was sitting on a bench in a huge room. The room where each Sunday a crowd of people would come in for morning prayers.

He looked up at you with foggy eyes, hands itching to worship your body. How could someone be this divine and perfect? Obviously he was the chosen one, he was born to meet you. “That… I’ve never done anything like that before. Speaking of which, have you, as a priest?” You questioned, a tiny bit interested. “No, I kept my chastity for you, my god.” Fyodor answered shamelessly, then thought about what you told him.

If what you said was right, then he awfully wanted to give his first to you, and to be your first as well. To take the virginity of his most beloved god and to give, there was nothing more he could ask of. “Is that so?” Your warm voice broke off the momentary silence, then you continued with, “come here.” You tapped your thighs, wondering if he would do it. Did he believe in you enough to commit something that has always been taboo for him? A part of you doubted it, but you wished he’d obey you yet again.

The boy stared at your moving hands for a while, then did as you instructed, climbing onto your lap with reddened cheeks. “…like this?” He raised his arms, about to wrap them around your neck but decided against that. Then he bawled them into fists and kept them behind his back, before grinding against your crotch with his own bulge. “Nghh... fo-forgive me, hah I-lord, can I please continue?" Fyodor mumbled with squinted eyes, biting his bottom lip while he let his desires take over. You grabbed his waist, wrinkling his black robe and stopping him, whispering, "D-don't move, not in the church." Your conscious forbid you from carrying out such acts in a holy place. Sure, you provoked him first, though you didn’t expect it to escalate this soon.

He begged you with glistening, teary eyes, hoping you'd let him go further than that. It felt so good he couldn't stop, he has never even touched himself before so that simple gesture was enough to make him drool. "P-please." Fyodor groaned into your ear, his voice has never been this needy or lewd, it surprised both of you. Instead of stopping when you told him to, he continued to grind against you and whimper, "use me however you see fit, my lord, please let me he-help you." You clenched your teeth, use is a strong word. It’d be a lie to say you weren't aroused, so you sighed and complied with his request, "dammit, fine. Go and get my bag."

This was how you were going to have your first? Giving it to a crazy priest who believes you were a being above humanity? Who would have guessed…

You watched him get off with shaky legs, the spot between his legs was all wet and sticky already. Was it normal to be this sensitive? It's probably because he's a virgin, just look at him eagerly bringing your stuff to you. Once he came back, you fumbled around in your bag, luckily you always brought your stuff with you in case of a spontaneous one-night-stand. It never happened before, yet you knew you would need it one day. After you were done with the preparations, you opened a pack of condom, about to pull it over your length when he clasped his hand over yours. "L-let me do it." He proposed, hands shaking with embarrassment as he took slowly pulled it down to the shaft. You almost laughed because he was making such a big deal out of it, sweating furiously with an ashamed gaze.

"Do you find it dirty to touch it?" You chuckled after watching him for a bit, finding his reactions pretty amusing. "No-no.!! No.. that, I-I'm.." His face heat up again as he tried to find the right words. In the end he decided to just speed up the entire thing, and grabbed the bottle of lube that was in your other hand. Then he squeezed the contents onto your dick and spread it evenly, wondering if this would even fit. After a minute, you grabbed his wrist and scoffed, "are you done playing?" Out of nervousness and excitement he forgot to stick it inside him, looking away in shame before lining the tip up with his hole.

"HnnGgh.. this is h-hard.." he complained under his breath, trying his best to take you. You wanted to prepare him first, but he said he wanted the first thing to enter him to be you and not some fingers. Since that was what he wanted, you decided to let him be. That's what led to your current situation, where he's desperately poking his entrance with your dick. “NghhHg..! Ah, f-feels good..” Finally he managed to take your tip, already panting like he had ran a marathon. "Good job." You praised him, then caressed his soft thighs. They were covered by his clothes, which annoyed you a little, so you gripped his hips and butt before slamming him down your cock. "AhhHGGgNN.!? AahHH..! H-hurts.." He moaned out loudly, then slumped against your chest, fingers clawing at you for support.

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, his body shivered at the sudden impact. You were stretching him so much, he could swear his butt was going to tear. At the same time he was so happy, enjoying this to the fullest. His insides were working overtime, trying to accommodate your thickness and length, his rim clenching and loosening up with each inhale. He made such sinful noises when your hands squeezed his snatched waist, to the point you wondered if he was telling the truth earlier. After waiting for him to stop holding onto you like his life depended on it, you cupped his cheeks, making him look up at you. “Look here, fyodor, tell me how good it feels.” Then you grind your hips against his.

The movements were minimal, you didn’t make him ride you yet, only pushing it slightly deeper inside him. Yet the reaction was better than expected. He arched his back, throwing his arms around your neck out of reflex and whined, “ahHhH!! I-i love it, god, it’s so NGhh m-my insides are tingling..♡” You clicked your tongue, grabbing his butt to have a better grip and praised him, “so good for me.. there’s to turning back now, you don’t mind sinning for me, right?” He didn’t even think twice before saying, “I’ll do whatever you want me to..!”

After getting his permission, you told him to hold onto you tightly. Once he did as you commanded, you manhandled him and made him go up and down your dick. Your little worshipper wasn’t particularly short, rather, he was unusually light. He couldn’t even keep a straight face composure anymore, crashing against you once again as he moaned into your ears. Poor boy was crying due to the overwhelming pleasure, thighs trying to close together in a twitching manner and toes curled off the ground. Drool dripped down his chin and soaked your clothes, all while he moaned out your Titel.

“L-lord, god.. ah, please!! S-slow down.. ngHh, too much, too big..♡♡” his voice became higher with each trust, and bruises began to form around his hips because of your rough grip. “Didn’t you say I can do what I want?” You reminded him, licking your lips when you saw his melting face. How those beautiful water drops raced down his cheeks like soft rain against a window. His pupils even formed little hearts to match that pleasure-ridden gaze in his eyes. Most of his bangs stuck to his forehead, the rest of his hair bounced around whenever you made him ride you.

Then you said fuck it and ripped his priest robe, so that you’d have more access to his skin. “Hu-hUHmnn..?! M-my lord! AhhHNN!!” He shrieked when he noticed one of your hand on his inner thighs, pinching and groping his skin. “W-why there..? Nghhh…” Fyodor groaned, a tad embarrassed by the intimate touch. His deity was touching him after all. Alone the thought of you, his one and only god, fucking him and using him was enough to get him to the verge of cumming.

More precum leaked from his shameless tip, soiling the back of your hand. “M-m’sorry, so-sorry..ah, for being d-dirty..!” He immediately apologised, holding your wrist weakly and bringing it to his lips. Then he slowly licked off the pre, using kitten licks that looked so inexperienced and adorable that you had to tease him more. Sticking your finger into his mouth and snapping your hips against his. Fastening your pace, going rougher and deeper, rutting into him like he was some fleshlight. At this point his petite body won’t be able to take it! He’s so slim and vulnerable, it’d be a shame to break his mind and make him your toy, wouldn’t it?

“MhmMNN… ah, r-right there..Nghh, too f-fast, g-god! feels good~ ♡” Fyodor mewled into your ears, squeaking as he tried to shake his ass for you. But he was more on the passive side, letting you move his body however you saw fit. His sloppy and slutty hole was making squelching noises whenever you bottom out in him, all sticky with lube already. You were so caught up in the moment, you weren’t even sure what you were doing. All you knew was you wanted to touch him, to feel up his figure and trace the outlines of his body. Then you kissed his neck, causing him to whimper uncontrollably. “Hnghh… I- mHhm, l-lord help me.. I want more♡ something is coming out..!!” The boy gasped and smiled, grinning satisfied, the expression almost looked dumb.

You did as he asked of you, slamming him down onto your dick harder and trying to hit his sweet spot more often. The way it rubbed and played with his soft and warm walls made him see the light, or he was just about to blank out. “Nghh! F-forgive me.. for my siiiinnns..!! ♡♥︎～” The priest, Fyodor, your exclusive worshipper and toy servant groaned a last time before shooting ropes of cum out of his twitching member. His thick and filthy cum got everywhere. From his ripped clothes to his milky inner thighs and chest. Then he slumped down, pleasure and sensations he never felt before all coursing through him at once. He felt so good, this was the first time he felt this amazing. It must be due to you, because of your blessings.

Oh how lucky he was to serve such a kindhearted and generous god, who was patient enough to show him all this bliss. This was heavenly~ His body was still a shaking, twitching mess. The lingering ecstasy making him sob and moan louder. After giving him a gift this great, he will have to serve you even more diligently and wholeheartedly! He will make sure to worship and treasure whatever you gave him!

Even you had to catch up your breath since the session was so intense, panting a little while still admiring him. You were still inside him, and he was clenching down onto you without letting you pull out. Then you leaned back against the lean of the bench, signing when you realised what you just did. Now you were definitely going to hell. Fucking a priest in the praying halls, were you possessed? Right before you could tell him to get off, since you two had to clean up, he took off his clothes completely. “Huh..? Fyodor?” You whispered in disbelief. Sure, you ruined his robes, but why did he take them off?

It was the first time you saw him entirely naked, and he was as skinny as you noticed him to be. His nipples were all hard and pink, a cute colour in your opinion. A few seconds later, he re-positioned himself in your lap despite his legs giving up under him. Then, he slowly rode you, jumping up and down while wrapping one hand around his shaft. You rushed to stop him, saying, “wait a sec- shouldn’t we, especially you, take a break?” Seriously, for how sickly and pathetic he looks, he had quit the stamina? Instead of obeying you like normally, fyodor smirked obsessively and moaned, “G-god, forgive me for i-indulging..! Ahhh.. I’m so sinful, I deserve punishment. But..!! it’s just so good I can’t stop ♥︎♡.”

What…? Wait- isn’t this priest too slutty…?? It seems you’ll have to suck it up and wait until he milked himself dry on your dick ♥︎

[formulawolff]

fanboy behavior - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 1.3k

warnings: an older man having an insanely large crush on a woman thirty years his junior, ONE-SIDED PINING (LOTS OF IT OKAY), allusions to smut/sexual fantasies, toto is a mess, mentions of divorce, common fic tropes, yadayadayada

a/n: this is sort of a prequel to alkaline! this is set one year before the events of the 2024 bahrain grand prix. toto is super down bad in this already, so expect lots of pining and him being a flustered mess hehe! i figured this would provide some context/background for the first chapter of alkaline <3 (ALSO PLS LISTEN TO ALKALINE BY SLEEP TOKEN!!! IT REALLY ENCAPSULATES TOTO'S YEARNING!!)

his mind is other places.

he should be invested in the current conversation with his engineers and drivers, discussing the current status of the car and the potential modifications that needed to be made before sunday.

but he's not, his foot tapping against the concrete floor absentmindedly, body on autopilot.

it's almost as if his brain was short-circuiting, desperately trying to compute any sort of coherent thought in correlation with the task at hand. yet, if he tries, it just sputters, trailing off, veering towards something else.

well, someone else.

he's thinking about a driver, merely a few paddocks down.

a williams racing driver, actually.

the american girl. barely twenty-one, a rookie in the second williams seat, preparing to compete in her first formula one race in approximately twenty-four hours.

her eyes were like starlight, bursting with a torrent of emotions and complexity, pulling you into their depths, begging for you to get lost within them. her hair was absolutely gorgeous, complementing her features no matter its state.

and her physique?

fuck, the team principal felt like a teenage boy very time he stole a glance, his slacks feeling a little tighter than usual.

with a smile that lit up every room she was in, a radiant aura brimming with kindness and humility, as well as a fiery determination to compete, she was comparable to the sun.

the woman who was starting to become routinely embedded in his daily pondering.

ever since that fateful day in december, when his eyes first drank in that photo of her, hand interlocked with james in front of that williams car, she was the last thing on his mind before he dozed off. and well, the first thing his mind wandered to in the mornings.

she even made an appearance in his dreams, the sound of her voice almost haunting him, so tantalizingly sweet and angelic.

fuck, he was a goner.

this was the third month now where she consumed every crevice of his brain. a continuous loop of all of the sins he wanted to confess, the ways in which he wanted to touch her, and the burning desire to take her under his wing, teaching her all of the ins and outs of racing.

was he obsessed with her? surely not.

not that he memorized every single one of her f2 stats or anything. not that he spent a majority of his free time lately invested in interview clips with her, jotting down all of her favorite things. not that he doodled her during meetings or anything.

not that at least twelve times a day he fantasized about her in a mercedes suit, his fingers carefully tugging down the zipper.

this was normal behavior after a recent divorce. completely normal behavior, actually.

the team principal clears his throat, "i need to step away for a moment. i can barely think straight right now. please, continue. i will rejoin the conversation once i get my shit together."

he can't help but notice the way his drivers exchange a concerned glance, lewis coughing slightly.

"um, all right. toto, is everything okay?"

not quite.

he was going absolutely insane, his mind already reeling at the anticipation of potentially catching a glimpse of her. he wasn't even sure if he would or not, but that possibility sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

those endless possibilities are what kept him up at night. what sent the blood rushing in the mornings, the stiffness in his boxers nearly pulling him out of his slumber. what had him pacing some days in his office, desperate beyond belief for some sort of way to break this spell.

as he strolls out of the garage, a warm breeze rolls through the track, strands of hair blowing all over. he curses slightly, running a quick hand through the tousled mess.

just to his left, a flurry of voice catches his attention, his head swiveling, searching for the source.

besides james is the object of his every desire, the apple of his eye.

as the sun dips below the horizon, he can barely make out her expression. she appears frustrated, her brows furrowed together, a deep frown etched across her lips.

"i just don't fucking understand why that dickhead felt the need to ask me if i was on my period!" she groans, shaking her head, "what the fuck was i supposed to do? let that slide?"

there's a sternness plastered across james' face, yet his voice is soft, laced with sympathy, "i know, but you have to realize that you're going to be asked questions like that because there are misogynists within the sport. no matter how much you prove to us that you deserve this seat, there are going to be pricks out there. we can do a little bit more media training, if you'd like. or, i can hire a publicist for you."

"a publicist? are you fucking kidding me?" her eyes widen, her tone growing more and more frustrated, "i'm not fifteen. i can speak for myself, james."

"it was just a suggestion," he shrugs, sticking out his hands, "look, i know you had a rough day, but let's focus on tomorrow. all right? you're tenth on the grid. that's monumental for your first race. you could win us points."

"we'll see," she scoffs, the toe of her shoe scuffing against the pavement, "i'm sorry for getting upset with you. i'm just really nervous. and well, scared."

scared of what? you have nothing to fear, sweet girl. you're one of the best drivers i have seen step foot on the grid.

toto narrows his eyes, lingering for just a moment longer.

"i just don't know if i deserve this seat," he can sense the falter in her voice, how it shakes, "i don't even know if i deserve a spot in formula one. i mean, look at me! i'm this upset over a dumb question. and i'm just scared everything is going to go to my head tomorrow and i'm going to overthink it."

james wraps his arms around the driver, pulling her in for a tight embrace as a sob wracks her body, "hey, when you're in doubt, you have alex and i. we will always be there for you. i know you're nervous, but you have to realize how special and talented you are to be in this position. you've deserved everything that has come your way, and you will continue to deserve this. i promise."

his biceps flex as he folds his arms against his chest, every fiber of his being resisting the urge to just walk over there and casually sweep her off her feet, squeezing her against his chest as he murmurs in her ear how fucking special she was.

james, she wasn't just special and talented.

she was a fucking star. a star that deserved to shine and hold every ounce of that spotlight.

just like the sun, she deserved to cast her rays of light all over the world.

the world deserved to know who she was. where she came from. how she got here. why she was a worthy competitor and excellent driver.

and by god, toto wolff was hellbent on making that happen.

one way or another.

he just had to be patient. play the long game.

every move from here was to be carefully calculated.

as toto harbored a plan. one that had been brewing the second that speculations swirled around the world of formula one that the first female american driver would be signing to a team.

he was going to have her by his side at mercedes.

fuck, he had been yearning for her this long already.

how much harm would a few more months do? a year?

he could wait a year. he was a patient man.

well, he could wait that long.

as long as that hunger gnawing away at him didn't kill him first.

[mini-ism]

#— “SO, YOU’RE A CAMBOY?”

⋆ warnings: ADULT CONTENT (MDNI). camboy!au, masturbation, no beta read.

⋆ pairings: gallagher, sunday, aventurine, welt yang, dr. veritas ratio (separate) X reader.

⋆ notes: this is a part 2 (that nobody asked for lol), i hope i didnt butcher anyones character 😓

⋆ PART 1.

⋆ gallagher will actually oil up if you tell him to — and he does it with a dirty grin. he always wears his signature magenta tie, or maybe a collar if he’s feeling extra naughty. not much is known about gallagher, truthfully. gallagher likes to flex his biceps, he knows that drives you mad. his arms are all scratched up, speckled with patches of scar tissue up to his shoulders. he has a strangely magnetic gaze, one that calls to you as he strokes himself. he lolls his head, letting out a long, heavy moan. his brown hair starts to stick to his face as he sweats, teasing his cock to drive his viewers wild. he edges to get you riled up, raising his eyebrows as he pumps his shaft with two big, thick, calloused hands. he likes to cuff himself to his bed, unable to pull away from a vibrator or his own hand. gallagher is very personal with his viewers at times, ranting about his long, boring day at work with a hand on his cock, calling himself an “old dog” and blabbing about bitchy people. if there’s one thing about gallagher that you know, it’s that he’s a dirty, old showoff. oh, and, if you finish before him, he will relentlessly tease you for it.

⋆ sunday infrequently streams. there’s something so filthy and impure about it that drives him somewhat wild. he doesn’t like to show his face on camera a lot, it could end up bad if it becomes public knowledge that he’s the one on stream. however rare it may be for him to stream, let alone show his face, you can’t ever get enough of his flushed face. he’s just so pent up, and every time he gets close, his wings start to flap a little, it’s adorable. his wings are perfectly preened, his body is well taken care of, and his hands are simply beautiful. his skin is quite pale, it sometimes looks slightly grey, but his knuckles are rosy, and his face gets so, so red. his cock is just as gorgeous, his entire body is well maintained, his tip just as rosy as his knuckles. he lets out small babbles as his cool, collected exterior starts to falter from pleasure. he teases the slit of his tip with his thumb, stroking slowly, dampening his moans with his other mouth. what he does secretly is just so, so impure, it’s sinful, it feels all too good to show his fans what he cannot show the world. it’s amazing, having no control for once.

⋆ aventurine is showy. he’s already pretty showy (he has a lot to compensate for, in all honesty), but when he’s right in front of the camera, something in him changes. he likes to make his streams feel one-on-one, he knows that’s what gets him donations. sometimes, he likes to make “bets” on who will come first, you or him. it’s always you, especially when he dirty talks and picks up the camera to show you how hard and needy he is. he licks his lips and he moans softly when he pumps himself, taunting you to cum, confessing how hard this makes him. he always makes sure to ruin your orgasm indirectly, never letting you get what you want. shouldn’t seeing him already be enough for you, or are you just selfish?

⋆ welt never anticipated becoming a camboy. he was reluctant, but he strangely started to enjoy it. he doesn’t have much personal time, between his job, his duties, his life, he doesn’t savor the time he has alone with himself all too much. welt loves to praise you, urging you to come for him, come to his body and his dick. his gaze is so, so gentle, egging you on for longer, edging himself just so you feel good. his audience loves that about him, he’s endearing and selfless, he doesn’t even have donations on. he mostly streams for the fun of it, he loves encouraging you to feel your best, showing you every part of him that you want, flexing his muscles, giving you THAT look, moaning for you. he strokes his cock softly, whimpering with pleasure and whining as he feels his abs after he edges again. welt absolutely has a cult-like following, the majority of which have some sort of DILF fascination.

⋆ veritas ratio was openly against the idea of streaming. he shut it down every time, but something in the back of his mind nagged him. he grew in popularity in a short time, tugging on his cock with a strange scowl-like smile on his face. he was wonderfully sculpted, though, he loved to show his body. he would occasionally post to other platforms with photos of him shirtless. sometimes out of the bath, skin still glistening and wet, or after a workout in a mirror. in due time, veritas became used to flaunting his body, sneakily placing a rubber ducky somewhere around his home, whether it be his living room, his room, wherever, and challenging his viewers to find it. he’s mildly agitated whenever a member of his audience calls him “ducky” or “mr. ducky.” the ducks are part of the reason why he blew up so fast. veritas knows he’s handsome, though, and he loves to tease, pulling his cock from his boxers when he can’t bare another second of not touching it. he’s big, and he loves to talk about what he’ll do to you. he wastes no time, making sure to pleasure himself and you as efficiently as possible, he’s a master of dirty talk, especially with that commanding voice of his.

[yandere-sins]

a/n: We all know Sunday is scratching my itches for yandere!priests a bit too well, ehe~

You are an avid confessor at Sunday's booth. 

It started with a friend's nudge, telling you how much better you'd feel if you talked about your troubles. And it helped—for a while. But troubles rarely come alone, and soon enough, you return to the confession booth almost thrice as much as everyone else. But it helps, at least temporarily, when you tell your woes to someone who absolves you of your worries, allowing you to let the tension fade from your mind. 

Sunday loves listening to your voice, imagining it as part of his choir of order, and he forgives even the gravest of your sins, although it breaks his heart. Must you always speak so harshly about him? He only sent you a few letters expressing his love and desire for you, yet you speak as if he had bad intentions. You tell him with a teary voice that you're scared something will happen to you, and Sunday can't help sliding his fingers over the see-through net separating you two, imagining he was caressing your cheek, wiping your tears away, and comforting you.

If it was entirely up to him, he'd tell you that it was his hand penning the poems of insanity he personally dropped in your mailbox in the shadows of night. He'd tell you all those deeds he wants to do for you, all the nasty little things he imagines you doing with him. But alas, he abstains. He can't do anything more to soothe your fears than to promise he'll be working hard to guarantee your safety. This dream is meant to be wonderful for you and him, after all. 

And yet, next to him rests the letter of the day, adorned with a feather, its ink as red as blood seeping through the pristine white paper. 

One day, he'll have the order he's seeking. One day, he'll be able to guarantee your presence by his side and make you love him the same way he loves you. By then, you will know that you need him. Not only for emotional stability but also to take care of your fears and worries that will all wash away come the day you are chosen as his saint. Sunday will be the constant that you seek out on your best and your worst days. Even if it means instilling the fear and paranoia in you that you have a stalker for now. It will be worth it if it drives you back into his arms—or, well, into his confession booth. But until then, he needs you to come to confess your sins again—even the ones that are originally his. 

Because how else is he going to get his fix of you?

[doumadono]

[Sinful Sunday] I loved how you write Wriothesley, so I was wondering if you could write something with him and the reader spending time together after hours?

Warnings: smut with plot, rough smut, pussy fingering, cunnilingus, semi-public, creampie, fem!reader, established relationship, possessive Wrio, Neuvilette being Neuvilette ^^

A/N: this request got the most votes during the second Sinful Sunday poll I held. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY GENSHIN IMPACT

You had met Wriothesley on a day like any other. The fortress was bustling with activity, guards patrolling, prisoners shuffling through their routines, and you, an administrator tasked with managing the endless paperwork that came with overseeing such a complex institution. Wriothesley, the Duke of Meropide, had always been a figure of authority and mystery, his presence commanding respect and admiration. His icy demeanor was formidable, yet there was a warmth that lurked beneath the surface, a warmth you had been fortunate enough to uncover.

It had started innocently enough. 

The fortress was not a place for personal connections, after all. But there was something about the way his eyes lingered on you, the way your breath caught whenever he was near.

Late nights in the office, poring over documents and case files, had led to shared cups of tea and quiet conversations. Wriothesley’s wit and intelligence had drawn you in, and before long, the lines between professional and personal had begun to blur. Tall, imposing, with piercing blue eyes and a demeanor as cold as the Cryo Vision he wielded, Wriothesley was a figure of both admiration and intimidation. Many women in the fortress — and beyond — would have given anything for a chance to be close to him, to break through the icy exterior and find the man beneath. 

It was during one such evening, months ago, that the tension had finally snapped. 

You had been in the middle of reviewing a particularly convoluted case file when Wriothesley appeared in your office doorway. 

He stood there, his presence commanding even in the subdued light, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Working late again?" he asked, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from him. "There's just so much to do. These new cases —"

"Can wait," he interrupted, stepping into the room. "You've been pushing yourself too hard lately."

He moved closer, his gaze never wavering, and you felt a flutter of nervous anticipation. Wriothesley had always been distant, maintaining a strict professionalism that left little room for personal interaction. Yet tonight, there was something different in his eyes, something that hinted at a deeper, more complex emotion. "You should take a break," he repeated, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

You managed a small smile, though your pulse quickened at his proximity. "Easier said than done."

He was close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the subtle scent of his cologne wrapping around you. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with unspoken tension.

"Wriothesley," you began, unsure of what you were about to say, but he silenced you with a look.

"Do you ever stop to think about yourself?" he asked, his voice low and intense. "You're always taking care of everyone else, always working. When was the last time you did something for you?"

His words struck a chord, and you realized how little you had allowed yourself to relax, to simply be. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat as he reached out, his rough hand cupping your cheek. "You deserve more," he whispered, his thumb brushing gently over your skin.

The touch was electric.

Without thinking, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. 

His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your lips met in a kiss that was both unexpected and utterly consuming. It was a kiss filled with months of pent-up desire, a kiss that spoke of all the things you had left unsaid.

He lifted you effortlessly, setting you on the edge of your desk, his body pressing against yours. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more desperate. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"Wriothesley," you gasped when he finally broke the kiss, his lips trailing down the column of your neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses in their wake.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and teasing. "Tell me you don't want this."

But you couldn't. You didn't want him to stop. You wanted more — needed more. Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer, your body arching against his in a silent plea.

"Don't stop," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "Please, don’t stop."

And this is how the affair began.

The moon hung high over the vast expanse of Fontaine, casting its silvery light over the pristine streets and ancient structures of the city. 

The dim, ethereal glow of the moonlight filtered through the frost-laden windows of the Fortress of Meropide, casting long shadows that danced and shifted across the cold stone floors. The fortress, cold and imposing by day, seemed almost intimate under the moon’s silver glow. 

The evening was quiet, save for the occasional distant clanking of chains or the muffled murmurs of guards on patrol. Deep within the labyrinthine corridors of the Meropide Fortress, the air was thick with an intensity that was palpable, even in the dead of night. This fortress, both a prison and a sanctuary, hummed with the quiet activities of its inhabitants. Among them, two souls found solace in the shadows, bound by a secret that thrummed like a heartbeat.

It wasn’t an unusual hour for some people to be working, but then again, the fortress itself was an unusual place.

Wriothesley sat at his desk, the flickering light of the lantern illuminating his rugged features. His eyes, sharp and intense, scanned over the documents spread out before him. The Duke of Meropide was a man of duty and resolve, his dedication to maintaining order within the prison unyielding. Yet tonight, his thoughts were not solely on the responsibilities that weighed heavily on his shoulders.

You sat across the room, engrossed in your own work. 

The reason for the extended hours was legitimate enough — a particularly troublesome inmate required constant monitoring, and both of you had taken it upon yourselves to ensure the situation remained under control. No one questioned why you, an administrator with a keen eye for detail, would stay late into the night. And no one questioned why Wriothesley himself would remain long after most had retired to their quarters.  

It had been months since the two of you first met.

As the clock ticked past midnight, you pushed back from your desk and stretched, the movement drawing Wriothesley's attention. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze dark and smoldering as it roamed over you. "Tired?" he asked, his voice oh so low.

"A little," you admitted, getting up from your desk, and crossing the room to stand before him. "But I don't mind. It's nice to have some quiet time to get things done." 

“Need a break?” Wriothesley asked, his voice nothing but a soft rumble.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I think we both do.”

With a swift movement, his hand reached out, capturing your wrist and pulling you gently towards him, and onto his lap, his arms encircling your waist. The heat of his body against yours was intoxicating, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver of anticipation that ran through you. Wriothesley’s hands roamed over your back, his touch firm and possessive. He tilted your chin up, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

"We shouldn't..." you began, but your words trailed off as his lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, pressing a kiss that made you melt against him.

"We should," he countered, his voice a husky whisper against your skin. “I can’t help it. I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

His hands roamed over your body, deftly unfastening the buttons of your crisp white shirt. With a practiced touch, he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, revealing your soft skin to his hungry eyes. You could feel the intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes filled with desire as he cupped your breasts, still cradled in your lacy white bra, fondling them with his rough, impatient hands.

"I missed you too," you chuckled softly, your fingers weaving through his dark locks as you drew him nearer. "But we've spent the whole day together already," you pointed out.

A wry grin crept across his lips. "True, but I couldn't touch you the way I wanted."

The kiss that followed was anything but gentle. It was a desperate, hungry clash of lips and tongues, a collision of need and longing that had been building for hours. 

You rose from his lap, hoisting the hems of your skirt up to provide yourself with more comfortable movements. Then, slowly, deliberately, you straddled his lap, your movements purposeful as you seated yourself comfortably. You ground your clothed pussy against the growing bulge in his pants.

"Fuuuuck," he growled, his voice low and guttural. His hands slid further under your skirt, finding the bare skin of your thighs and gripping them possessively.

With a deft movement, he lifted you onto the desk, the documents scattering to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment. His mouth never left yours as he positioned himself between your legs, dry humping against your pussy, his hands pulling you closer, anchoring you to him as his mouth trailed open mouthed kisses up your exposed neck.

You could feel his dick hardening within his dark gray pants, hard and insistent against you.  "Wrio," you gasped, your head falling back as his lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. 

He silenced you with another kiss, his mouth trailing down your neck soon after, leaving a trail of burning kisses in its wake. His hands found the clasp of your bra, deftly undoing it and slipping the stripes down your shoulders, his touch sending shivers down your spine. 

"Someone might hear..."

"Let them," he growled, his voice a mixture of command and need. "I don't fucking care."

His hands were everywhere, caressing, teasing, igniting fires wherever they touched. You arched against him, your body aching for more, for everything. 

Wriothesley leaned in, his eager mouth enveloping one of your hardened nipples, drawing it into the heat of his mouth. 

The sensation made you instinctively arch your back, a loud moan escaping your lips. “Oh, for the glory of Hydro Archon! Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged.

His tongue flicked around your hardened bud, sending jolts of pleasure through your body as he sucked on it hungrily. Meanwhile, his free hand fondled your other breast, teasing and caressing it with skilled precision. At the same time, his other hand, unoccupied but not idle, pushed against your left knee, urging you to part your legs wider for him. 

You complied eagerly, granting him the access he craved.

As you spread your legs wider, he pressed the heel of his rough hand against your clothed pussy, rubbing you through your panties. The Duke pressed the heel of his rough hand against your clothed pussy, rubbing you through your panties. To his delight, he discovered a damp spot forming in the middle of the fabric, a clear indication of your heightened arousal. “Look at you, little one,” he mused, "You're already so wet for me. Mmmm, I can already smell your sweet scent. Look at what you're doing to me, Y/N," he exclaimed, gesturing toward his tented pants as he released your nipple from his mouth with a loud pop sound.

Finally, Wriothesley took a step back, lowering himself to kneel on the cool marble floor between your legs.  His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled himself between them, his broad shoulders keeping your legs firmly in place, preventing them from closing. He pushed the material of your panties aside, exposing your pretty pussy to his hungry eyes, your folds glistening with arousal. Leaning in, he inhaled your scent deeply, like a predator savoring its prey, and let out a low growl. "Mmmmm, fuuuuck, that's what I've been craving all day long."

With a slow, deliberate motion, he leaned in and pressed his mouth against your glistening folds. His tongue darted out, and Wriothesley began with a teasing flick of his tongue, running it lightly along your folds, just enough to make you shiver with anticipation. He lingered at your entrance, tracing slow, deliberate circles around it with the tip of his tongue, savoring the way your body responded to his touch. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he delved deeper, his tongue pressing against your clit in a firm, tantalizing stroke.

He alternated between long, languid licks and quick, teasing flicks, his mouth exploring every inch of your cunny with a hunger that left you breathless. He sucked gently on your clit, rolling it between his lips, then released it with a soft pop, only to dive back in, his tongue moving with an expert precision that had you writhing beneath him.

As his mouth worked its magic, his fingers joined in the fray, sliding one, then two digits inside you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot that made stars burst behind your closed eyelids. He pumped his fingers in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue, his movements growing more urgent as he felt you tightening around him.

"You taste so good," he murmured between licks, his voice thick with desire. "I could do this all night."

He sucked harder on your clit, his tongue lapping at you with increasing fervor. He nipped at your folds, the slight edge of pain only heightening your pleasure, making you gasp and arch your back as you lay your upper body flat on his desk. His growls of satisfaction sent vibrations through your core, adding to the mounting pleasure building inside you.

Your hands clung to him, fingers tangling in his hair as you rode the waves of sensation. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, adjusting his pace and pressure, his tongue darting and swirling with a skill that left you trembling.

Wriothesley reveled in the power he had over you, the way your body responded so eagerly to his touch.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub as he applied just the right amount of pressure. 

You moaned loudly, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him to continue as you slowly ground your pussy against his face, even though your legs were shaking at the moment as pleasure became unbearable. 

His hands roamed up your body, one of them moving up your body to knead your breast while the other stayed firm on your thigh, keeping you spread open for him. He moved his tongue lower, dipping it into your entrance, tasting you deeply before returning to your clit. “My mother taught me to always finish my goddamn food, so forgive me, doll, but respectfully I don’t give a shit if your legs are shaking. And don’t try to crawl away.”

You could feel the tension building within you, the coil tightening with every flick of his tongue, every suck, every nip, every thrust of his fingers. 

Wriothesley's fingers moved with relentless intensity, plunging in and out of your drenched pussy, each thrust creating wet, lewd sounds that echoed throughout the room. His mouth was equally fervent, his tongue lapping at your folds, his hums of satisfaction blending with the obscene noises. The combination of his skilled fingers and eager tongue drove you wild.

When you finally came, it was with a cry of his name, your body trembling as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. 

He didn't stop, his tongue continuing its relentless assault, drawing out your orgasm until you were left breathless and spent. Only then he looked up at you after, his lips glistening with your arousal, a satisfied smirk on his face. "That's my good, good girl," he praised.

Finally, after he had drunk in every last drop of your cum, Wriothesley moved up, his mouth leaving your throbbing core. 

He stood and began unbuttoning his dark shirt, revealing the hard lines of his muscular chest and well-defined abs. His fingers moved deftly to his leather belt, unbuckling it and then opening his fly with deliberate slowness. He pushed his uniform pants low enough to free his rock-hard cock, which twitched at the sight of your messy, disheveled state laid out before him.

Taking hold of his cock, he stroked it slowly a few times, making sure to coat it with your wetness that was previously coating his fingers, spreading the slickness from the tip to the base of his throbbing member. 

The sight of it only made you more desperate for him. 

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper filled with desire. "So ready for me." He positioned himself between your legs, his eyes dark with desire.

He pulled you by your legs, positioning you at the edge of the desk, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His hands gripped your hips, his touch firm and possessive as he lined himself with you. 

You could feel the hard head of his cock, sticky with precum, pressing against your entrance, a promise of what was to come.

With one swift, powerful motion, he entered you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that left you gasping for breath. He set a steady, intense rhythm, his hips driving into you with a force that made your whole body shudder.

Wriothesley's grip on your hips was firm, his eyes locked onto yours as he fucked you, the connection between you deep and primal. The wet sounds, the slap of skin against skin, and his low, guttural moans filled the room, a symphony of raw, unrestrained passion. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, your body responding eagerly to his, the pleasure building until it was almost too much to bear.

"You're mine," he growled, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "Only mine."

"Yes," you moaned, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders. "Only yours, Wrio!"

He moved faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding, driving you to the brink of madness. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix with each of his thrusts.

You cried out his name, your body trembling with the force of your pleasure, your mind lost in a haze of sensation.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured, his lips pressing against your ear. “So perfect for me.”

“Wrio,” you gasped, your voice a plea and a promise. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. 

The world outside ceased to exist; it was just you and him, lost in a moment of pure ecstasy.

He thrust harder, his movements becoming frantic, his need for you overwhelming. “My little cockslut. My personal fucking whore,” he snarled through clenched teeth. A bead of sweat formed on his temple and rolled down his perfectly shaped cheek.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you matched his thrusts, lifting and lowering your hips, moaning like a bitch in heat.

Wriothesley was the first to reach his peak, his thrusts growing more urgent and sloppy as he neared his release. With a deep, guttural growl, he spilled his thick seed deep inside you, the hot flood filling you completely. His body shuddered with the force of his climax, his grip on your hips tightening as he emptied himself into you. “Oh, fuuuuuuck yeah, fuck yeah,” the dark-haired man growled, gently spanking your clit with his hand a few times.

The sensation of his cum filling you and his continuous assault on your pussy pushed you over the edge. You came moments later, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around his dick, massaging his shaft as if trying to milk it dry of every last drop of his precious cum. The intensity of your orgasm made you cry out, your body trembling and your nails digging into his shoulders as waves of pleasure crashed over you. The rhythmic contractions of your pussy around his cock sent aftershocks through both of you, prolonging the ecstasy of the moment. 

He held you close, his breath ragged, his body covered in sweat. 

For a moment, you stayed like that, his cock still buried in your hot, drenched pussy. 

Then, slowly, he pulled away, a grin spreading across his lips as he marveled at how his cum dripped out of you, forming a small puddle on the floor right under his desk. "Perfect," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You’re absolutely fucking perfect. Fuck. I'll never get enough of this," he murmured, running a hand through his messy bangs in an attempt to make himself presentable again. 

He wiped his cock with a paper towel he pulled from his desk drawer, then adjusted his trousers and buttoned his shirt, leaving the last three buttons open to cool down himself faster.

Suddenly, you both heard footsteps approaching, growing louder with each step. 

Panic set in as you jumped off the desk, hastily helping Wriothesley gather the scattered documents. You quickly began buttoning your shirt, realizing too late that your bra was missing. Glancing at Wriothesley, you saw it in his hands. He gave you a mischievous look and tucked your bra into his pants pocket, flashing you a devilish grin. “You need to work for it.”

"You're unbelievable, you bastard," you whispered, shaking your head as you hurriedly pulled your skirt back into place and adjusted your panties.

Just as you managed to sit back at your desk, there was a brief knock to the door. 

Before Wriothesley could respond, the door opened to reveal none other than Neuvillette, the Iudex of Fontaine himself. He gave you a polite nod, which you returned with a slight bow, struggling to maintain a composed expression. Your thoughts were consumed by the cold, damp sensation of your panties, soaked with both your juices and Wriothesley's cum.

"Good evening," Neuvillette said, his voice formal and detached.

Wriothesley, ever the picture of composed authority, straightened up and addressed Neuvillette, his demeanor cool and collected. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Neuvillette's eyes scanned the room before settling on Wriothesley. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," he said, his tone as formal as ever.

"Not at all," Wriothesley replied smoothly, straightening up as he slowly improved his shirt, giving you a look. "We were just wrapping up some paperwork."

Neuvillette's gaze lingered on Wriothesley for a moment longer than necessary, a hint of suspicion flickering in his eyes. "I see," he replied, his tone still formal but with a subtle edge to it.

You felt a flush creeping up your neck as you tried to compose yourself, your heart hammering in your chest. You were certain Neuvillette could sense something was off, but to your relief, he didn't comment on your flushed cheeks or the way your breaths came out in uneven puffs.

"Very well," Neuvillette said finally, breaking the tension with a polite smile. "I won't keep you any longer. I brought some documents for you to go through. I trust everything is under control here?"

Wriothesley nodded, his own smile strained. "Of course, everything is in order."

With a final nod, Neuvillette took his leave, the door closing behind him with a soft click. 

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, the tension draining from your body as you exchanged a relieved glance with Wriothesley. "That was close," you murmured, grateful for the near-miss.

Wriothesley chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Too close for comfort. We'll have to be more careful in the future. Even though I wouldn’t mind having an audience.”

You shook your head in disbelief. This man had some nerves! Then, you returned to your work, knowing that come morning, you would return to your roles, to the pretense of professionalism. But for now, in the quiet sanctuary of his office, you were his, and he was yours, if only for a fleeting, precious moment, away from prying eyes and probing questions.

tags: @crystalwolfblog @shonen-brainrot @mun-in-rain