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dollfacefantasy · 1 month

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pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

summary: it's been months since you and toji split. when he shows up at your apartment, you struggle to not fall back into his arms.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, toxic relationship dynamics

word count: 4.7k

a/n: commission for @nexysworld <3

One eye cracks open when a loud pounding sound rouses you from your sleep. You sit up, rubbing your face and yawning. The red numbers on your alarm clock glare 2:37. After a few more moments of it, you register the sound as knocking on your front door. As you drag yourself from the comforts of your bed, you wonder who and why. Who would not only disturb you at this hour, but also be so brash about it? You kind of hoped it was no one you knew so you wouldn’t have to deal with anyone’s bullshit problems at nearly three in the morning.

When you arrive at the entryway and glance through the peephole on the door, your wishes dissipate immediately. Standing outside your place was the biggest bullshit problem you’d ever encountered. You unlock your door and crack it open, the bright light of the hallway making you squint as it casts over you.

“Toji?” you ask, your voice still a bit raspy from disuse.

“Hey baby,” he says quietly. Despite his subdued tone, he still flashes you that grin that lets you know he’s still himself.

“What… what are you doing here?” you mumble. You rub your face again to try and make yourself a little more presentable. Even though he was an asshole and you couldn’t say enough about how you had totally moved on, the sight of his shaggy hair hanging in front of his eyes and the faded scar on the corner of his mouth still made your heart flutter.

“The place I was staying kind of fell through. But you know, it’s kind of a good thing. Brought me back to you. I’ve been missing you a lot,” he says.

You roll your eyes. He must need more than just a night to get himself together with how thick he was laying it on.

He reaches out to stroke the curve of your cheek. His rough fingers drag against the soft skin while the two of you stare at each other. You know you should swat his hand away. Tell him to go to hell. Get lost and lose your number. But you can’t be that cruel. Not to him. Even with everything that’d happened, all the tears he’d caused and days he’d ruined, he was still your Toji. Your bad habit. Your never-ending vice. A piece of you that’d you’d never cut out no matter how rotten it became.

“Fine, c’mon,” you relent. You open the door wider and allow him entry.

“That’s my girl,” he says and steps through.

“Don’t call me that,” you say quietly. You were falling for it, but he didn’t have to throw it in your face.

After following you in, he doesn’t shut the door behind him. You raise an eyebrow.

“Before we catch up…” he starts with a chuckle, “I kind of need you to pay for my ride. I don’t have any cash on me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you ask, walking to the window and looking down. As he said, the cab was waiting outside.

All the dreamy thoughts you’d just had about him being yours no matter what start to have a bleak tint. Your gaze hardens as a harsh sigh leaves your lips.

“Fine, but you’re gonna pay me back,” you say. You stop at the counter to grab your wallet and fish out some cash. Then you slap it into his palm and gesture for him to go. Sure you’d give him the money, but no way were you gonna scamper down there out into the cold in your pajamas.

He leans down and gives you a small peck on the cheek before heading out. You stand in your living room alone. He was still affectionate even though you’d been apart for months. You knew he was that way with his words. The occasional texts he sent you during this break always held copious amounts of “baby’s” and “my pretty girl’s.” You just didn’t expect him to touch you like nothing was different.

You rub your eyes in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Deciding to be proactive, you occupy the small wait for his return by setting up some things on the couch. You rifle through the closet in the hallway to find some spare bedding. Pillows are easy, you toss two spare ones over to your couch. Blankets are more difficult. You initially grab the fluffy lavender one he gave you for your last birthday. It looked brand new. You hadn’t had much time to use it before you kicked him out. Then when it felt like he was actually gone for good, you’d clutched it to your chest while crying your eyes out for days. But since that week, it remained hidden away in the depths of this closet.

He probably wouldn’t even notice if you did put it out, but he didn’t need confirmation that you hadn’t thrown the stuff he gave you away. So instead, you pull out an old blue one with little fish all over it. You spread it out on the couch as he slips back into the apartment, this time closing the door and locking it. Your back is turned while smoothing out the wrinkles in the plush fabric, so you don’t see him sliding a leftover bill into his pocket.

As you finish up the makeshift bed on the couch, he approaches you. He places a cautious hand on your waist, his fingertips rubbing tiny strokes on your t-shirt.

“You’re really gonna put me out on the couch? I thought you’d want me in bed, all to yourself. Like old times,” he teases.

“I don’t want it to be like old times,” you say.

“C’mon, they weren’t all bad,” he says and pulls you a little closer, “You used to love to cuddle. You’d curl right up to me, give me those little kisses. We had a lot of fun together in that bed.”

You look up at him. His familiar eyes meet yours. It would be so easy to give in. To connect your lips and pull him back to your bed that had been missing his presence for months.

“We did. But not anymore. They’re good memories, and that’s it,” you say, turning your head and stepping away. You needed the distance between the two of you.

You further separate yourself from him by sitting in the chair near the couch. It was a single seat, no room for anyone else to slide in next to you and drape their arm around your shoulders. He knows what you’re doing of course. You can see the look of amusement in his eyes. This was how you got during fights. You just closed off, tried to remove yourself from him and not engage. It was kind of cute you hadn’t changed.

He plays along and sits down on the couch, leaning back into the cushions and propping his legs on your table. The silence between the two of you feels heavy. It fills up the room, suffocating any space words could have gone.

“Do you want a drink?” you manage to get out.

“I’m fine,” he says. And in contrast to you, he did seem fine. He seemed unbothered by the lack of conversation. He looked content to stare at you, drag his eyes over every detail of your figure.

“Are you ok?” you ask. You just couldn’t take the silence.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks in return.

“Cause you said you didn’t have anywhere to go and the place you were staying, something went wrong,” you answer.

“That was nothing, I’m fine,” he deflects.

“Well I just want to know if I should be concerned if there’s a hit out on you or something. If someone’s gonna burst through my door in a few minutes cause you ripped them off,” you say and cross your arms.

“Nothing that serious. Just some lady problems,” he says with a smirk.

A dark cloud forms over your head at this. It wasn’t like he was cheating. You weren’t together anymore. But the thought of him with another woman drove you crazier than just about anything else. And of course he knew that.

“What happened? She get smart enough to kick your ass out?” you say, unsuccessfully masking the bitterness in your tone.

“Something like that,” he says. He pauses, still looking smug as ever. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“You wish,” you respond. He doesn’t seem to believe you.

Another bout of uncomfortable silence crowds the distance between you two. This time it’s broken by him.

“You got anyone I should be jealous of?” he asks.

“That’s none of your business,” you answer without a second thought.

“Guess not. I mean if you did, you probably wouldn’t be letting me crash on your couch. And anybody who was a real threat would be here. Would’ve answered the door instead of you,” he mocks.

You roll your eyes yet again. “You’re so smart,” you say.

He shrugs. “Only when it comes to you.”

Rage boils within you. You know you shouldn’t feed into him, give him what he wants by getting all riled up. Your rational mind knows this. But the irrational part of you loves the game. Walking as close as you can to the line without stepping across. Pulling and pulling until you feel something about to snap.

“Well I’m not like you. I take a while to move on since you actually mattered to me. I just can’t jump into someone else’s arms and pretend that nothing is different,” you say.

“Don’t start that shit. Don’t act like I’m some cold-blooded asshole who broke your innocent little heart,” he says. His eyes don’t leave you once.

“You did break my heart and you are a cold-blooded asshole, so tell me where the lie is,” you challenge.

“You aren’t innocent,” he states, “You could get just as nasty when we were fighting. And you’re the one who broke up with me.”

“Because you are a dick. Cause and effect. If you weren’t so insufferable, we wouldn’t have so many fights, and I wouldn’t have broken up with you,” you point out.

“So it’s all my fault? You never do anything wrong? Whatever you say, baby,” he says, now taunting you with the pet name.

“I didn’t say I never do anything wrong. But everything we fought about is because you did something stupid,” you say.

“I make a little mistake once in a while and you blow up on me. I think you just like fighting,” he says.

You dig your nails into the flesh of your arm to keep your temper from flaring. You begin to wonder if it’s too late to throw him out again. Part of you had the urge to go back in time and slap the version of yourself that let him in cause he was “your Toji.” But really, this was your Toji. Your Toji with his sleazy smile, dumb shaggy hair, smug eyes, and chilling voice. This was the man who had you hopelessly trapped.

“Whatever,” you huff, determined to prove him wrong. You rise from your chair and walk towards the hall that leads to your room. “I’m going back to bed. Do what you want, just stay out of my room. If you want to change, I can bring you some clothes.”

“You have clothes here that will fit me? Maybe I should be jealous,” he says, leaning forward and resting an elbow on his knee.

And instead of taking advantage of his assumption, like he would have done to you, your mouth opens and words fly out before you can even think of that.

“They’re your-” you start, your mental brakes screeching to a halt. Suddenly, you felt so stupid for putting so much thought into avoiding the purple blanket.

The smile that breaks out on his face is so wide it’s almost unsettling. It would be if it was anyone else.

“Aw baby,” he coos mockingly, “You didn’t get rid of my clothes? You still been using ‘em? Cause that’s fine you know. I like it when they smell like you.”

You didn’t even know what to say. You had used them a few times since he’d been gone, but it wasn’t like a regular thing. You did like that they smelled like him, and you liked hearing that he felt the same way about you. But he couldn’t win.

“Just shut up. Do you want them or not?” you say and look away.

“No, baby. I’ll be fine. Thank you,” he says, every word dripping with condescension.

You slink away without returning the courtesy. It takes you no time to collapse back into your bed, but resuming the sleep he had torn you from proves more difficult. Your thoughts just keep drifting back to him. You toss and turn, legs kicking away the blankets and then arms pulling them back.

He really was out there on your couch. You thought you may never see him again. You’d broken up a few times before over different small things, but this time felt different. It was supposed to be for real. But just like that, he came back.

Now that he had returned, you felt the dull ache for him returning as well. You had hoped it shrunk over time until eventually it didn’t exist, but here it was, showing itself again. You know you shouldn’t, but you were starting to regret not asking him to join you. He was fucking infuriating, but you had missed him so much. He could help push away the memories of loneliness that had occupied your bed in his wake.

After nearly an hour of this, you manage to slip into some form of sleep. It felt like you were still awake, but far away. You were floating, drifting around aimlessly. You were resting, but you probably wouldn’t feel that way if you woke up right now.

You’re deep enough that you don’t hear your door creaking open. You don’t feel the mattress dip slightly with additional weight. You don’t sense your blanket being lifted as another body slides in next to yours. You only begin to wake once you feel his skin on yours, his thick arms wrapping around you and pulling you close.

You babble tiredly as he presses kisses to the back of your neck. Humming in confusion, you turn and crack your eyes open to see what’s happening.

“Toji?” you croak when you register his face so close to yours.

He’s still kissing up and down your neck. His fingers trace little patterns on the skin of your waist. Once you realize it’s him and what he’s doing, you squirm. You whine and try to pry his arms off you.

“Stop. What'd I tell you? Quit it,” you grumble as you struggle more with him.

He squeezes you tighter and nuzzles you. “But it’s cold out there, sweetheart. Lonely too,” he murmurs.

“Don’t care. It’s the couch or the curb, so take your pick,” you yawn.

“Baby, it’s me. I’ve been missing you so bad. And I wasn’t being a very good guest before. Let me make it up to you a little,” he whispers.

“No,” you whine, “Make it up by letting me sleep.”

“You can sleep whenever. I’m here right now,” he purrs. His fingers ghost along your waist making you squirm and whine at the slight tickle.

“Why do you always have to be so annoying?” you huff and try to readjust to be comfortable within his hold since he shows no signs of letting up.

“You know you like it.”

He pulls you tighter against him and drags his nose against the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent. It felt good, natural more than anything else. Like this is how things should be.

“Has anyone been in this bed since I left?” he taunts.

“You already asked me about that, and it’s still none of your business,” you respond.

“Can’t be too careful. Especially with a cute thing like you,” he says.

“Just shut up and go to sleep. Count yourself lucky I’m not forcing you back to the couch,” you say as if you could actually force him to do anything.

“It’s been months. You really want sleep more than you want me?” he teases and nips at your earlobe.

The drag of his teeth on your flesh pulls you back into the waking world a bit more. Your sleepy eyes open more and take in the sight of his face. He looked almost innocent in a way, like he was truly just asking for another chance to connect.

He leans in for another kiss, this time catching your lips with his own. His toned chest and abdomen pressed against the softness of your side, and despite his claims of being cold, he felt like a space heater the way warmth radiated off him.

You indulge him a bit, gently reciprocating the affection for a moment. But after a few soft movements of your lips, you pull away.

“We can’t… I shouldn’t do this,” you whisper through the darkness of your bedroom.

“Why not?” he says back. His fingers rise to your face, stroking over your temple, from your hairline to your cheekbone.

“I can’t do this again. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of believing you’ll be different and then you’re not. And then we break up again and then make up a little bit later. It’s exhausting,” you sigh.

“It will be different this time, babe. You recognizing this stuff shows that it will be,” he says and brushes his thumb over your lips. He moves even closer to you, as close as he possibly can be. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs.

The soft hum of his voice alone made you want to give in. Combine it with his gentle touches and firm body, you were fighting with your urges to let him ruin you. Your head tilts back to contemplate, and he takes advantage of the position to start peppering kisses on your throat, sucking love bites into the sensitive flesh.

“Toji,” you whimper, “Stop, you’re gonna leave a mark.”

“I wanna leave a mark, baby. Gotta remind everyone that you belong to me. Can’t have you forgetting either,” he mutters.

A breathy whine floats through your room, and one of your hands laces itself in his hair. You close it into a fist, giving the dark locks a little pull. Your mind was an echo chamber of don’t don’t don’t stop stop stop. But familiar heat bloomed between your legs as his large palm coasted up your side to find one of your breasts. The sound of his lips on your skin and his shallow breaths gave you heart palpitations.

“I didn’t forget,” you gasp softly as his fingers dig into your tit.

“Yeah? So you’re all mine still?” he teases.

“Mhm,” you hum, taking the last step to giving in.

“That’s right,” he says. You can feel his smirk against his neck. “My baby. Back where she belongs.”

“I missed you too,” you whimper as he continues the assault on your neck.

“I know you did,” he breathes as his tongue slides over your skin.

His hand continues to grope your breast. You arch into his touch, a wordless plea for more. He snakes the limb beneath the thin fabric of your shirt and finds your soft skin. With no barrier separating the two, his fingers toy with your nipple. They pinch and pull, twist and tease. They’re merciless until he feels the small bud start to peak. That acts as his signal to direct his attention downwards.

He moves to be more on top of you. His thumbs hook beneath the hem of your shirt and pull it up over the swell of your chest. Immediately, his mouth latches onto the nipple his fingers had neglected. His saliva coats the area as his tongue laves on the skin, getting it to rise to attention just as the other day.

“Been missin’ these perfect tits,” he mumbles before using his mouth again, “No one else could take care of ‘em like me.”

You whine and squirm a bit, your hands staying firm in their grip on his head. You nod along with his words. A completely thoughtless gesture. You didn’t even fully register them. Your mind simply believed he couldn’t be wrong while making you feel so good.

As he works on warming you up, he begins peeling off your clothing. Your shirt comes over your head and falls off the side of the bed. Your bottoms are next, slid down and flung away from the two of you. He kisses down your belly before leaning back on his knees. His shirt meets yours on the ground when he pulls it off.

You’d seen it so many times before, but you couldn’t help gawking at his figure. Your fingers glide up his abdomen, feeling every ridge in his abs. He smiles down at your wondrous expression.

“Remembering exactly what you missed, hm?” he asks.

You reach up to pull him down to you at the same time he starts lowering himself. Lips collide and hands slide all over now bare skin. Your fingers find the familiar grooves on his back that they always dug into when he was buried deep inside you. His digits snake beneath your panties and slip between your folds.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet,” he laughs against your mouth, “That’s probably just her natural reaction when I’m around though.”

You grumble in response and try to mute his words by making out. He cuts you a break and does shut up for once while rubbing your pussy some more and getting your panties off. It’s not long before he follows suit by freeing his cock and brushing it through your slick.

“Time to see if she’s as tight as I remember,” he grunts as he lines up and then sinks in.

Your heat engulfs him like it’s a natural fit. Your walls squeeze around him, the massaging sensation making his breaths more labor.

“Fuck… might be tighter. Think she’s begging me not to leave again,” he teases.

He begins thrusting, working his hips back and forth. He’s so big that he’s instantly hitting pleasure spots. You sigh and wrap your limbs around him more.

“Just be quiet,” you whimper as your cheeks burn.

“Not a fan of me making fun of you?” he mocks, “Doesn’t shock me since you didn’t before. You’re just usually more agreeable while stuffed full of cock.”

You go to argue, but the words in your throat die and shrivel up into a whine. Your body rocks with each of his motions. He’s not even going that hard yet, but you still feel his raw strength as his muscles flex against you.

“Aw, it’s ok, dollface. You just go a little dumb. It’s only natural for bratty girls like you,” he coos.

The whole time he continues, in and out. You stay tight around him, and you start thinking his theory about you not wanting him to leave may have some truth to it. This felt so good. So much better than the couple guys you’d had in between. And even though you are going to be fucked dumb soon enough, you’re not totally there yet.

“The only time you don’t act dumb is when you have your dick out,” you say between soft sounds of pleasure.

He grips your hips harder upon hearing your words. “That so?” he grunts. He picks up the pace, his pelvis making a loud noise every time it slams against your ass. “Like I said, the only time your silly little head isn’t clouded by your attitude is when I calm you down on my cock. So shut it and let all those thoughts melt away.”

And you listen because despite your little comments, you liked how it felt to lose everything except him. You couldn’t live without the feeling that nothing else in the world mattered but you and him. All your worries that plagued you during every other moment of the day transformed into distant ideas as the feeling of him battering into your cunt moved to the forefront.

And as much as you love feeling it, he loves watching it. He loves watching your eyes blank and become thoughtless, totally dependent on him to guide you to release. He was obsessed with the way you’d start to drool. Your inhibitions all but disappeared, and he couldn’t get enough. He’d never admit it to you, but he could never find anyone else with reactions that captivated him as much.

After an extra sharp thrust, your body seizes up and you shriek. “Toji!” you cry out.

“Mhm, never too dumb to remember that, are you? My little slut always knows who owns her,” he says.

You nod mindlessly, your head bobbing in wide movements. “Fuck me so good,” you babble, “No one else. Don’t want anyone else. Always gonna be you.”

“Good girl,” he grunts, “Pussy’s all for me. Takes me like it was made for me.”

“It’s all yours. Nobody else gets it,” you whine.

“Gonna be mine forever. Just look at you. No one else could do this to you. You ever fuck anyone else, and all they’re gonna get out of it is that they’re not as good as me,” he moans while ricocheting his hips off yours.

You gasp, getting to the point where words are an unrealistic concept.

“All your neighbors already know who this pussy belongs too. I’ve got you trained so well, I know my dumb little girl calls for me whenever she cums, even when I’m not there,” he whispers. His voice was starting to strain under the proximity of release. “Even when you’re just soooo mad at me. You press your toys to that pretty little clit to blow off steam, and you can’t help but cry out-”

“Toji!” you mewl as if he had been asking you. It was good to know your mind was still good for at least one word.

He grins like a madman and drills into you harder. Your limbs flail and your noises become short and rhythmic.

“You take any cock from any guy, and what are they hearing the whole time?” he asks.

“Toji!” you repeat.

“What was that? Don’t think they could hear you.”

“Toji, Toji, Toji,” you sob out.

“Good baby. Perfect little whore all for me. Never letting you go again,” he grunts.

“Never gonna be apart again. Gonna be yours forever,” you mumble.

Both of your breathing is picking up. Your chests puff against each other as your sweaty skin rubs against one another. It’s all a blur at the end, like always. You think you cum first, but as soon as you hit that high, you pretty much black out. The room spins and your vision fills with stars. All you really register are his groans that make your tummy flutter, and the feeling of his warmth flooding your pussy as he shoots his load inside.

This time though, the after part is fuzzy too. You vaguely feel him pull out and guide you to lay against his chest. You feel his lips against your head and his large hands cradling you close, but then you’re gone. You pass out and sleep till late in the morning.

By the time your eyes reopen, the room is full of sunlight. You take a second to remember the previous night and all that happened. Surprisingly, a sense of regret didn’t crash into you like a swat van. You actually feel some sort of satisfaction. You feel sated. The ache is gone at least for now. You have him back. As he opens his eyes and sits up to give you a kiss, you return the gesture in full.

“You gonna stay a while?” you whisper.

“Yeah. No reason for me to leave,” he says.

You give him another kiss before he lies down again and pulls you onto his chest again to rest some more. You sink into his toned body. He was yours again. You could admit now that you never stopped being his. As you lay there and absorb the dreamy atmosphere in your room right now, your poor heart truly believes that this time will be different.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro imagine #toji fushiguro smut

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marinas-drafts · 7 months

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Honeymoon

A Sky High Lovin’ segment, the swingin’ 60’s

Summary: If weddings are for the bride then it suggests that Honeymoon’s are for the groom -a stupid cliche you had dismissed until your dashing groom proves a little inexorable in his intent to “educate” his new bride on the long Learjet flight to Honolulu

Warnings 18+: (sex, dubious consent) I am about to possibly over exaggerate these cautions but I find it necessary, particularly for anyone who is used to reading my work because this is by far the most dubious consent piece I ever ever written and the theme is entirely narratively sympathetic to entitled husbands and female objectification. So, as it’s me, of course there’s love and tenderness but it’s also got -repeatedly denied requests to stop during sex, innocence kink, possible male enjoyment of a recent virgin’s discomfort, nasty baby talk, worry about a man being unfaithful if you deny him, talks of teaching you how to take him, (possible grooming?!) assumed husbandly entitlement to a wife’s body, archaic views on gender roles… y’all, I ripped off Pricilla and went full Lana Del Rey and glorified breaking a woman into her husbands tastes, like, that’s the theme and it’s reveling in it so, enjoy but heads up 🌷🎀🌷

Repost here from my main: @precious-little-scoundrel

There’s something very salacious in the simple act of walking across the tarmac amidst a swarm of reporters clicking away with their cameras, ready to print the image of your little figure pressed against his side, images for all the world to look at and know what occurred to you last night.

What you two did. How he made you his. On your wedding night.

He made you a woman, his woman and the whole world knows it now. There’s something so damn dirty about this, even -or perhaps because- of how traditional it is. The ring sits with a comforting weight on your finger as he holds your hand, and your belly aches from your husband drawing his pleasure from your virgin body, your thighs trembling as you try your best to keep up with his long strides in your kitten heels. It’s so proper, it’s everything he ever wanted, and it makes your cheeks burn beneath the generous layer of makeup.

He looks painfully handsome and happy this morning, impeccably polished in the bright sunshine and you wonder at his duality. The way he can clean up and regain his proud suavity when last night you had seen him mussed, tremblingly tender and near unhinged in his passion while consummating your union. A dab of pomade, a double breasted jacket and his wife’s little hand in his -he’s utterly in possession of himself now and is the fuckin’ American dream incarnate right in this moment.

He’s very proud as he introduces you to some of the familiar press faces, and very gallant as he guides you up the few steps into the Learjet, broad palm searing your lower back and you wish you two could have remained tangled up in sheets, honeymoon and travel arrangements abandoned indefinitely. Just you and him floating together in a sky of crisp sheets and tangled limbs.

The photographers crowd in after you, soaking up the shy way you cuddle in close as he tucks you into his side, sympathetic to your own desire to be alone but too happy to begrudge anyone a glimpse at his little prize. Uhem, bride. The amount of satisfaction he finds in you is palatable to all here, his arm around you holds you close and grounds you even as his face splitting grin proclaims that you were a tight but obedient fit last night.

Your eyes burn you’re blushing so hard and that makes him grin harder and it’s pavlovian that smile, you can’t help but grin back, harder and crinklier than his and that stokes his joy further and soon y’all are giggling over memories the photographers will never be privy to. Those are yours, frantic and tender and aching.

Even the ever hungry photographers are glutted by the loved up display you give them, and soon they are departing and the plane door is shut. Then it’s goodbye America, off to Honolulu.

The tiny jet crew and the couple of boys from his paired down entourage settle into their seats as the jet roars down the runway and lifts off, effortless, soaring and sleek. Beside him you are restless, shifting and jittery on the leather seat, though he is gratified to see the demure way you cross your ankles and the ladylike poise of your spine even surrounded by the comparative privacy. His perfect southern Belle, whose every thought and action and word is to reflect well upon him and keep his name from disrepute, he couldn’t have chosen better. Your mouthwatering submission last night proved it.

You squirm again. Maintaining the modest coverage of your pretty little shift dress, the one accented with navy bows that coordinate with his suit, requires you to keep your upper thighs pressed together tightly, squeezing the bruise of your freshly opened little flower as it pulses distractingly, as if in flustered shock at its sudden required usage. Throbbing, sticky and hot.

“What’s my lil lady doin all that fidgetin for, hmm?” he asks you, tone solicitous but his eyes glint, “Plush leather seats not soft enough for my baby’s bottom?”

You startle and blush, just as he knew you would, and it’s adorable really, the way you can still be bashful after months of foolin and despite the recent intimacy of the night before. And it’s downright precious that you are so sore and achy after he had been so painstakingly gentle when he took you. You had no clue how sweet he’d been, the amount of self sacrifice he had shown in his languid slide and shallow thrusts, tender kisses and gentle grip. Resolutely holding back the absolute wreckage he could unleash on your poor, widdle unsuspecting cunt.

“Just excited.” your body vibrates as you shake your arms to highlight your explanation, gesturing to the wide blue sky out your window and the decadent interior of the jet.

He grins down at you and kisses your cheek, reaching for the seatbelt fastened at your lower belly and he flicks it open with his thumb, the heat of his hand branding you like an iron for the brief contact. “Lemme show ya round then, baby.”

He folds your hand in his again and weaves you down the aisle between the padded seats and towards the back of the plane, the occasional stray crew member meekly ducking towards the cockpit. You two pass the music lounge with its built-in piano and electric fireplace, then the kitchenette with its circular bar and spherical burst of lights coming out of the wall like cascading planets, back towards the little bedroom. You marvel at the designs, the colors, the unabashed wealth of it all floating thousands of feet above solid earth.

Happy and giddy you tuck into his side and he holds you close, arm snug around your waist, satisfied to show his little wife all he has to offer her.

“Y'know,” he serves as your guide, supplying details and anecdotes, most of which you already know but would listen to, enraptured a thousand times to keep him free and easy with his conversation, “Frank n' i didn't really get along when i first started out. ‘Said my music was brutal n' ugly. But we get along now. met 'im in person right after i met you. Reckon' ya rubbed off on me 'cause now we're good friends n’he lent us this jet to defile as we saw fit." his tongue pokes between his teeth, amused at himself and you find there is something cutely self-deceptive about his rare fits of humble bragging. “He’s got a mirror down here, nice big ole Broadway style vanity with it, bright lights n’low counter.” you’re far back into the plane now, he holds back a dividing curtain and you step into the little hallway dressing room right in front of the inauspicious bedroom door, “Frank uses this setup to primp before goin down the ramp to meet fans or shovin off for the next concert, reckon it’ll serve for the lesson I wanna show ya.”

Curious as to his plan, you look to him, both his image reflected in the huge, bare bulbed mirror and his own dear face beside you, more than a little pleased to see what a striking couple you make in the reflection, with his tailored suit and your chic smock, an IT couple without a doubt. It makes you feel pretty, wanted, a little proud maybe. That you won out of all those other hopeful girls. He sees your pleased expression in the mirror, the way your hip cocks and your expression morphs to your best kittenish smile. You’re preening. You think you’ve made it, think you’re at the summit of what life can offer and he may be partial but he thinks you wear smugness rather cutely. Makes him wanna shake ya up, rumple you a little, remind you who gave you all this. That your new image and importance and identity are due to being Mrs Presley.

He scoots up behind you, wrapping his arms around your belly and pulling you close to him, his chin settles atop your head. “Likin what you see?” he asks slyly, staring at the reflected image that will be on every magazine and newspaper tomorrow, the King of Rock n Roll and his perfect little darling who thinks she’s a woman now that she took cock once.

He runs his hands along your body, broad palms gathering then smoothing out puckers and rolls in the fabric of your dress as he follows the curve of you, breast to thigh and back up, then back down, further this time. He squats a little behind you and his clever fingers hook in your hem line and begin to draw it up, little by little exposing more and more leg in the mirror.

“Oh, no I-“ your hand flys to the apex of your thighs, pressing the fabric against you and keeping a covering there as his gathering has pulled your dress nearly to your little secret place, “what are you doin Elvis?” you ask, a little unsure and bashful of him exposing you in this somewhat public place, even if the crew is nowhere to be seen and the curtain is drawn.

It’s obscene to rumple up the perfect couple, all the starch and pomade that make Elvis Presley and his new bride the envy of the world. And it’s worrying. He does not know you omitted underwear today, the feeling of the fabric chafing and holding in the heat of your tender pussy too much to bear while maintaining a proper face on the tarmac.

“Gonna show ya somethin,” he repeats, eyebrow quirked at your “no” and the nervous way you are almost cupping the last few inches of your dress over your private parts.

He keeps ahold of the fabric he’s gathered up so far and takes to running his knuckles up your side soothingly again, till he notices there’s no band or catch on your hips as he glides up.

“You hidin somethin from me, honey?” he asks, already knowing the answer and the reason for your flaming cheeks, “Keepin secrets from your husband already, denyin him his right?” he tuts and your pretty coal rimmed eyes fly open in denial as you shake your head and pull your hand away. “That's more like it.” He nods approvingly, and ever the showman he waits a minute, building the suspense as his hands continue to map out your clothed body as your breathing quickens. In the mirror both your eyes zero in on the barely hidden triangle between your legs. Then with a flourish and flick of his wrist he swoops the hem up and a rush of cold air hits your exposed pussy. You slump into him and await his verdict. “Darlin, what’s this?“ he asks you gravely, his eyes very dark in the mirror and there you are, pristine up top and entirely bare below, it’s -vulgar. Vulgar and salacious with a fully suited man behind you shaking his head in disappointment that you’d be so careless on your first day as Mrs Presley, risking flashing the photographers or the flight crew because you were too delicate to stand a little fabric. He expects more of you, and he knows you know that.

You mix your explanation with your apology, looking like an eager to please little foal on shaky legs, and he accepts it with another tut and a hum as he rolls your dress up methodically until its bulk is beneath your armpits. The shame you feel in being so exposed is your own fault, your own doing, you know that.

If you’d obeyed you would currently have some demure scrap of silk covering you in the full glare of the showbiz mirror. But now you are bare to his blazing eyes. Your handsome new husband inspects you closely in the mirror, his ringed fingers trailing over your hips and over your belly, swooping up your ribs and tickling the underside of your breasts. Back down he goes, hands gliding and palms warm and broad, spanning much of your abdomen in his reach, down and down till he is petting your mound. Your arms dangle listlessly at your sides, entirely unsure what your part in this is, except to submit to whatever he wishes.

“You say your lil pussy is tenda, hmm?” he understands your motive now, and coos solicitously over your discomfort, even as he smirks at the notion you’re sore from that pathetically gentle love making. It snaps something primal deep inside him, or at least, he thinks that’s what made the decision for him, the decision to enlighten you that last night may have been real nice, but it weren’t typical. He can’t have a wimpy wife, he knows you’re made of tougher stuff, just needs to be coaxed out of you. “A little discomfort ain’t no reason for ya to risk showin the world Mrs. Presley’s goods, is it?” he observes and you nod in abashed agreement.

“No it isn’t,” your tone is fervent and you are so eager to make amends, “I’m sorry Elvis, I wasn’t thinking, I’ll do better.”

“I expect you to.” he says, not unkindly but you gulp and nod anyway, unmoored by his effortless authority. “Now, let’s see about this lil owie, hmm? Spread your legs for me, c’mon wider, that’s a good girl.”

You moan as his hand engulfs you’re throbbing heat, cupping the wounded little place and pressing it firm but gently with his palm. He can feel the thud of your heartbeat down there and the sticky proof of your excitement at just being near him. There’s heat pouring out from you too, a lotta heat. Half of it arousal no doubt, but it’s angry down there like a woman gets during her menses. Puffy and sweltering against his palm.

It’s gonna feel indescribably good around his cock.

“Now we’ve opened ya up,” he explains softly in your ear, “she’s gonna get all fussy down there if she’s left empty for too long.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror with a worried look, unconvinced that emptiness is at all the cause of your discomfort. You feel like something got rearranged down there and needs to be left to mend itself in peace. Preferably in a hot bubble bath. The one luxury this floating palace doesn't have.

“You trust me, don’t ya?” he asks your fretful expression proddingly, “Don’t want ya to close back up all th’way. Go too long and then we’d be starting from scratch each time, you understand baby?”

That does make sense. You swallow your fear and shake your head agreeably. Why shouldn’t you?

He was so tender last night, so romantic and gentle and chivalrous. He had kissed away all your fear and worry into the fluffy bed, sending you careening into bliss and flinging you up to the stars before gently pressing in when you least expected it. It had hurt then, sure, a little pinch and an uncomfortably full feeling he helped soothe by tilting your hips with a courteous pillow beneath them.

Making love had been nice, unexpectedly nice.

And better yet had been the sight of your gorgeous groom, shaking in effort to hold back his vigor as he worked himself in and out above you, gentle and kind, slowly losing a grip on his decorum and letting out sounds of pleasure and praise. There had almost been a whine on his lips as he stalled suddenly and clung to your shoulders and spilled inside you, cementing your union. It had made you feel gloriously happy, and a little smug to see him come undone from the feeling of being inside you.

He earned your trust.

“I understand.” you assure him, the little kisses he is pressing to your neck making you brave. You’d like to see him come undone again. If that means he has to go inside you again then you’ll accept that. Maybe he was right last night, maybe it’ll be even better today.

“That’s my good baby.” he praises you, pleased and handsome over your shoulder, “Gonna turn you into the best little wife the world has ever seen.” he starts to drag his fingers through your bruised petals and you make a ugly little grimace at the soreness before seeing how unpretty it looks in the mirror, consciously changing your expression to demure acceptance. The shiny pink of your lipstick highlights the baby doll serenity of your gentle smile.

“Take me to bed, please, Elvis.” you try to play along with him, desperate to show him your excitement and desire to please.

“Aww now, we’re not goin’ to bed this time, darlin, we’re gonna have a lil lesson so you ain’t in the dark bout marital duties and all that.”

You stiffen in his arms, confused and wary. He keeps nuzzling at your cheek and neck. You had anticipated that there might be adventurous trysts once married, sure. He had proven himself fond of messing with you outside the bedroom during your courtship, fingers playing with you under tables and in hotel elevators. You had prepared for him gently making love to you on a picnic blanket under a Hawaiian moon. Maybe in the tub, or heavens -perhaps the kitchen if he was ravenous. But you’re concerned now that you haven’t grasped his entitlement fully, you’re still trying to understand what he means by “lesson” and why he led you to this vanity. You have a shaky feeling that your embarrassment at being flashed in front of the mirror is about to pale in comparison to what he has planned.

His hand goes from petting your sticky folds to rubbing and swirling, calloused fingertips worrying your bud till you’re nearly keening in enjoyment. He hasn’t looked you in the eyes in a minutes. You keep watching his face as his expression goes from intent to hungry, watching himself fiddling down there with your pink petals as he gets you primed. Primed for the two insistent fingers that plunge into you with no warning. It’s easier this time, having had a coke bottle up there, even just once, did the trick, his fingers meeting far less resistance than last night. He’s made his mark, claimed ya and stretched ya. Never the same again.

His movements burn for you, tugging and persistent as they are and you wince, can’t help it with the way his elegant digits are caressing your sore walls at a foreignly fast pace. You hope that maybe not looking at the rough act will ease your discomfort, like looking away from the needle poke when giving blood helps you keep from getting queasy. The sounds though, wet and squelching, are unmistakable despite the hum of the jet's engines. You watch his face, hoping he’ll look up and meet your eyes, but he’s transfixed by the sight in the mirror of his fingers disappearing into you.

“Gimme your hands, baby.” his sudden instruction startles you as you had flown far away in your mind, trying to reconcile the conflicting amounts of embarrassment and arousal you feel under his heated scrutiny. Who knew married life would cause such a upheaval inside?

“Yes sir.” you present them palms up, and he jerks his chin,

“Now baby, listen, you’re gonna replace my hands while I get myself ready, alright, gonna keep my progress for us. C’mon, hand on each side, pull your lips apart, gonna spread your snatch nice n wide so you can really see the mechanics of the thang. The act.”

The act? What act - you figured if this was going to happen to you at the vanity he would spin you around and set you on the counter, take you kindly as you sat. He had licked you in a movie set bathroom like that one time. Your brain scrambles in confusion and panic, supplying the only familiar acts and positions you’ve tried so far. A man can’t take a woman standing, he can’t, it wouldn’t fit, or at least, it wouldn’t be nice, surely and he wouldn’t be anything but nice-

“Now,” he’s speaking up again, “squeeze your arms a lil, gotta keep your dress nice and clear of the exhibit, ok?” he snickers at the way your dress is bunched beneath your underarms.

You make a respectful noise of acknowledgment, too nervous to say more. Your folds are puffy and slippery beneath your numb fingers as you pull your labia apart like he instructed. This feels new, keeping clothes on while being intimate. It feels…irreverent and dirty somehow. Just like standing here, your whole reflection lit brilliantly and his eyes still glued to that place between your legs.

You watch him pull away from behind you and start to methodically undo the buttons of his double breasted suit jacket, sliding it off his lean arms and folding it carefully over a towel rack, “Ya see, darlin,” he explains, as he undoes his cuff buttons and starts to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, “it's only proper you know what it looks like when we're joined together. I’ve got no desire to keep ya in the dark bout somethin God says is a good thing. This isn't the olden days, I don't mind having an enlightened sorta gal. So long as you don’t turn into the bra-burning sort of enlightened.”

He meets your eyes then as he gives you a look from under his lashes, admonishing you to stay away from such nonsensical, feministic, man-hating company as his deft fingers pop open the button of his slacks and he pulls himself out, weeping, thick and ready. You had no idea he was already so fully excited, your legs begin to tremble anew. He looks larger like this, somehow, all poshly dressed and admirably sauve in the mirror as his cock juts out of his tailored slacks, a single indecorous vulgarity marring his pristine Ken Doll image.

You flush red hot at the sight of him

lazily pumping himself as he saunters back to you, his hand yanking and pulling to chub himself up and then a thumb swirling around the uncut tip. He’s leaking and messy already, a profusion of precum wetting his hand and you give a silent prayer of thanks that at least he will add to the slick, hopefully ease the slide.

He doesn’t waste time with romance, he takes his place again behind you and this time you feel him sliding between your cheeks and then your legs, the feel of his open fly and belt against your bare butt. Due to your obediently spread lips, it’s perfectly visible when he slides through your folds and pokes out the other side, a pink, blunt, oozing cockhead playing peek-a-boo in your garden. He bumps your clit again and again with it until you are huffily shivering in his arms.

“Elvis are you really gonna-“ you can’t bear the suspense of it, you have to ask him his intentions, if he really means to make love to you standing up.

“-really gonna fuck my new wife in front of this state of the art mirror?” he laughs, thinking he knows what your quibble is, “Goddamn right I am, be a crime to not avail ourselves of the experience.”

He punctuates his enunciated vocabulary with rough thrusts against your bud that have you shaking and coming…just a little. Just enough for him to be sure you’re ready to take him.

“Fuck me?” you repeat in a panicked whisper, “B-b-but I’m your wife, Elvis!” you object, wounded.

He gets confused, stalling with his hand as he lines himself up with your freshly excavated entrance, “Whadda ya mean, honey?” he asks kindly, reaching around to tilt your chin towards him, but you sense that there’s an impatient edge to it.

You tearfully explain to him how your mother and other women have told you very explicitly you that men don’t fuck their wives. They make love to them. You are very adamant regarding it, and he ought to know better.

“Why baby, that’s the single greatest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” he declares in fond amusement, smooching your tear stained cheek and resuming his rutting through your folds, “You gonna trust some ole ninnies over your husband? Baby, I gave ya a real nice wedding night cause I love ya and you’re my special girl and I thought it your due, but I ain’t gonna be saddled with a wife who can’t meet my needs when I need a quick fuck, ya hear me? Case in point is now, my dick’s about to fall off from all this chit chat.”

You suppose there’s a great deal about marriage that is far more complicated than movies and books and Sunday potlucks led you to believe. It’s hard balancing how to please your husband as you ought with retaining some dignity that will make him respect you. You can’t imagine Elvis ever not respecting you, it’s too ingrained in him and what he wants isn’t to humiliate you, it’s what he needs to be satisfied. And you so badly want to keep him satisfied, you know deep down you’d do unspeakable things to keep his attention on you, perhaps that is where your shame comes from. It’s less about his expectations and more about the fact you’d throw away all your mother’s teachings before causing him to go elsewhere for comfort and acceptance.

You turn your head to him and pucker your lips for a kiss of acquiesce, which he obliges. His hand is still firm on your jaw as he deepens it, and it’s heady and passionate and loving and -he’s breaching you suddenly. A squat and flex and tilt of his hips and then he’s snagged your hole and he is pressing up and up and up and you whine into his mouth as his foreskin rolls back in your canal, an extra friction against your raw walls.

“Elvis!” you beg, breath caught in your throat at the burning sting of him as your hand flies up to clutch at his arm, secure around your hips, “its it’s-” you flounder with a word to adequately describe the delicious pain of it as he goes deeper.

He mouths messy and moaning at your neck and you can feel his belly shaking against your lower back, his cock twitching at the feeling of getting dipped in your silky channel. It makes you cringe in discomfort.

“You’re so goddamn perfect and warm as anythin,” he praises in a slur of kisses and moans as he flexes up and up.

The farther in he goes the more it loses any snuggly quality and instead feels rather like getting slowly impaled. You shift your stance in front of the mirror, legs spreading of their own accord and eyes squeezed shut in concentration at just trying to breathe. It goes on forever and you start to try to go up on your tip toes, to get away from it, from him, to lessen the fullness and the deepness of his assault somehow. He persists. You try to scramble up him, leveraging your weight on his forearm till your little feet are nearly off the jet floor.

His answering chuckle vibrates your back, “Looks like you’re tryin to learn how to levitate, honey.”

You scramble harder in a vain attempt to get taller, to elongate your poor vagina somehow, to keep him shallow

“T-that’s all I can take, Elvis” you try to tell him when he’s only over half in.

It's an honest declaration, to your hyperventilating self he feels impossibly big and certainly every bit as deep as it felt last night when he took you discreetly beneath the sheets in the good ole fashioned missionary position.

Your eyes widen as he doesn’t stop, just goes on and on and on, as your breaths get more panicked, shallower with each inhale, on the verge of a panic attack until he stalls and starts to pet your belly and kiss your cheek in an effort to bring you back down. “Breathe babydoll, breathe for me. Calm down, satnin, you took this all last night. you can do it again, I knows ya can.”

You've long ago started to whimper when he didn’t listen, half in pain and half in fear that he isn’t stopping, that he isn’t being as nice as he was last night. Why isn’t he stopping? oh why, why, “I can’t, I think I’m not made for it.” you wail as you writhe helpless in his arms, a pounding ache between your legs and a strange flutter in your chest.

“No, no, don’t say that baby, please don’t say that, you’re perfect baby, just perfect.” he pleads a little frantic, rubbing his lips along your cheekbone to collect your tears, “Only need a lil breakin in is all, this won’t always be so rough. I’ll fix ya honey, I’ll make it better. Don’t you go objectin’ to the heavenly proportions God gave ya, or what he gave me neither. We were made for each other.”

Hearing the tender worry in his voice soothes you, even more than his comforting touches, knowing he isn’t indifferent to your struggle, he just wants what’s best for you as any good teacher would. You take a breath, a large breath and it feels like it made him sink deeper somehow. You bite back a sob.

“You can do it.” he says in your ear, his voice shaky from how badly he needs to be moving inside you, “Please baby, let me in, I’m hurtin’ real bad, if you could just see lil elvis you’d feel so bad for the poor guy. Let him in, you can take it, let him in, let him in his lil house. That’s it, that’s it just a little bit more.”

The man lied. There was nothing “little” about the more he gives you when he bucks up that last bit and buries himself fully inside, balls snug against your butt.

“Oh, i’hurts.” you moan, tears leaking through your clenched eyes, smearing your immaculate cat eye. “hurts -I-I can’t, Elvis.”

“You can.” he declares firmly, trying so hard to stay in control, to gather the last shreds of his gentlemanliness, “More like -you *are* doing it. Look, come on. Baby! I said look! Open those eyes and watch how well you’ve taken me.”

You pry your clumping lashes apart and slowly your eyes drag from the reflection of your faces pressed together, down to your breasts where his hand is crushing a velvet bow in his grip, down your belly to to his forearm barred around your hips. Down to that place where you join.

“Where’d lil Elvis go, hmm?” He teases like you’re playing hide and seek, and you let out a watery laugh, rolling your eyes at his babying tone, “Where'd he go, darlin? Oh, there he is,” he pulls out a tiny bit so the pink veiny length of him peaks out from between your lips, “there he is -wait where’d he go?”

“Elvis. Stop. Stop, that’s so dumb.” you beg through your sniffling giggles, the fiery stretch of him temporarily forgotten.

He laughs at your embarrassment and pulls out further this time, then snaps his hips back up to the hilt of him, drawing a pained cry from you “Who’s my bestest girl, hmm? who’s that? Shhh, shhh, Das you ain’t it? Look at’chue, doin so well. I need ya to stand straight baby, let those heels touch down. I mean it, plant your feet, don’t cry about it, no reason to cry, you gotta relax.”

You’ve heard him use the same tone of voice when helping Red’s puppy get a burr out of its paw. Pitifully you obey him, planting your feet and it feels like you’re riding a telephone pole, the way he’s stiff and unyielding, deep inside you, plumbing the depths of your belly.

“That’s more like it.” he hums in throaty appreciation of the snug fit of you, “Alright now, ‘member the job I gave ya?” he reminds gently as he starts to thrust slow and deep, watching as your face crumples in grief, “Hold yourself open baby, it’s very important you watch this, I need ya to understand you’re perfect for this, gotta let go of ma arm, c’mon now.” he pries your grip from his forearm and brings your hand back down to your puffy heat, “Spread yo’self.” his accent deepens as your body struggles to take him, clenching around him in an effort to expel him, and only serving to make him moan in bliss. “Look a’that.” he marvels, sounding utterly worshipful of the way the glistening pink length of him slowly comes into view, then slowly disappears -absorbed inside you, your painfully stretched little hole fluttering hopelessly at each dragging inch of him.

“It still really hurts.” you observe childishly through gritted teeth, your pained body fighting the fuzzy headed arousal you feel while watching the obscene display of him sliding in and out of you for a few languid grinds.

“That’s cause you’re so tense, loosen up baby, -actually, here.” he shuffles you forward and you make a reckless sound of disgruntlement at the feel of him shifting inside you with each baby step, “Here, knee up here.” he hooks his hand beneath your knee and props it up on the counter, somehow making this worse and better all at once with the new angle.

“Ow, oh god, you said it would get better.” you accuse, biting your lip in savage self reprimand after it. Foolish girl, to risk making him unhappy and frustrated, stoking his wandering eye.

“It will, dammit, it will. I'm gonna need you to hang in there and play with your lil button till it does, alright? Bout to burst back here with all this startin and stoppin.”

“Ok.” you whisper, feeling a little more steady with the firm counter beneath your knee, opened up a little for the intrusion of him.

He pats your hips and presses an appreciative kiss behind your ear, nearly drunk off your sweet little struggle to be good for him. It makes his heart soar and fills him with wild wants, makes him reckless, and a little mean somehow, like crushing rose petals to gain the scent.

“Now, I know I made love to ya last night, darlin,” he pets the bulge of his cock in your belly and you shudder in anticipation, “cause that’s what weddin nights are for, but now you’re a wife proper you gotta learn how to take cock without so much whinin and clingin, alright? Made ya a woman, didn’t I? so do me proud, act it.”

With this emboldening commission he presses one more kiss to your neck before pulling out before driving in, hard. And then he does it again, and again and again at a pace you’ve seen him maintain on stage but never, never imagined him using with you, against you, it feels like.

You shriek and your knee slides further apart with the violent rocking, trying with terrible desperation to find solace and feminine satisfaction in the guttural groans and huffed out praises your husband vents as he takes what he needs, flaming eyes glued to the mirror and the place where he plunders you.

You are really trying, it just hurts so damn much.

You know you’re lucky, you cling to that even as he spears your cervix again and again with gusto that suggests your panicked clenching is the best damn thing he’s ever felt in his life. You’ve heard from other women, older women trying to counsel you, prepare you for what lay ahead, that some husbands didn’t even bother trying to make sure their wives were slick enough. That the dry drag and burn of a man can make the stretch truly unbearable. It keeps you grateful that the lewd sounds now causing you to blush are testament to the flood of slick down there. It keeps you grateful meek even as you wail and smear your makeup with your gasped out shock.

He should slow down, he should moderate his thrusts, cherish his wife. He can see you’re struggling and panting and crying and somehow it’s all just a drug to him, the gorgeous little dolly he crafted so perfectly this morning looking utterly overwhelmed and defiled by his cock. It’s enough to make a man lose his bearings and forget his mama’s teachings on how to treat a lady.

The beast won’t be tamed. And so Elvis Presley begins to babble a stream of apologies as he exerts all the energy of his able body in fucking his young wife, like the deeper and harder he goes the more likely his lil swimmers will have the chance of making themselves a nice comfy home in your sweet womb:

“oh goddamn baby I’d stop if I could, but yer squeezing me like a vice and I just…I just can’t stop baby, be good, be good, don’t cry on me, be good for your husband, baby. You’ll get used to it, we’ll train your pussy baby, just gotta get through these early stages. Early stages and it’s, it’s normal, just a lil skittish is all, ain’t no way god made me want you this bad just for you to be cold. Ain’t no way, I can feel it when you’re dancin to my music, you want it deep, you crave it deep, you were born hungry. Oh goddamn, yes, yes, fuck yes, baby, I’m sorry I’m sorry, yes, keep squeezing me like that …….”

It is not talent on your part, this clenching that has him snarling in rapture with his eyes rolling back in his skull, it’s pure creature instinct, whether trying to expel him, bring him deeper or milk him fast so this agony will end, you don’t know. All you know is that his force is terrifying and you’ve never seen something quite as erotic as the pristinely polished beauty of his face morphing into ravenous determination.

Your panic flares one last time, unwilling to allow yourself to coast into enjoyment of this filthy usage without a fight. “Please, Elvis please -enough!” you gasp, even as something seems to have shifted inside you, a tilt or a nudge, whatever it is, it’s a spark of something dangerous.

“Listen here now,” he pants in frustration, one of his hands leaving your hip to fly down to your clit and rub it viciously, “i don’t have a particular hankerin to pin you down over the tabletop, face down ass up, and make this marriage work but I will if I have to. So be a good girl n’ quit all your whinin, show me some of that grit you show when I’m teachin ya on the mats. Don’t wanna make me do nothin rash, but I ain’t gon’ have my honeymoon ruined cause my wife is insistent on bein’ an obstinate lil’ brat!” his voice his shaking with effort, “now, open ya self up!”

It spooks you, this inexorable side of him, white hot lightening ripping through your nerves. Suddenly you’re alite. Scientists might be quick to give credit to the clever little rhythm his thumb strummed over your clit but till the day you die you will swear it was instinctive obedience that had you spasming and then gushing, suddenly relaxing and drawing him in, pliant and eager. Subdued at last.

“Aww baby, oh baby that’s it, oh thank fuck,” he gasps in relief as he feels the change, “I’ve gotchu, you know I gotchu always, gonna help ya get over that damn hill, gonna drop ya off that cliff gentle like.”

His movements are not gentle, if anything they speed up, but his hands cradle you, his mouth caresses you and he places his own knee beside your own, glued together everywhere except for the snap of his pelvis. There is a razor's edge here, in the sensations his body is drawing from yours, and it is an edge upon which you wobble, tipping now towards pleasure, then pain, then back again to pleasure. It confuses and overwhelms you, makes you moan and keen and beg like an animal in heat, the jet crew and all your ladylike deportment forgotten.

“Oh dear god Elvis, I- oh, oh, please don’t stop!” you’re suddenly shouting in a shocked beg, something irreversible building and this isn’t your standard *nice job buddy that was swell* orgasm approaching, it’s one of the *well done sir, I think I just died there for a minute* variety. It’s shaking, and thrumming and burning up your entire body, suddenly making lyrics to his well worn songs take on an entirely new meaning.

“Lordy mama, tryin to let the whole plane know I’ve broken ya in at last?” he teases, finding it heavenly the way you move with him now in an easy give and take, the smacking of your bum against him and the happy slack of your mouth driving him to madness.

Gone is the suave man of myth and envy, here is an animal instead, mounting and mauling and claiming you with ferocious devotion and you take it like a jerking rag doll, whining in need where you were once whimpering. He’s proud of you. If he had breath to laugh he would at the way you suddenly look dazedly disbelieving in the mirror right before your body seizes up and pleasure annihilates all your senses.

Your legs give out and you slump, having only the vaguest awareness of the fact he’s beginning to grunt and cry out himself, using you like a writhing receptacle, coming unglued behind you as you begin to melt on him like butter. There ain’t much thought or chivalry to the way he grabs at you, a hand beneath each knee and folds you in half, split open in front of the mirror as he ruts every last drop of satisfaction into you. He hears himself hollering as if through a tunnel, something that the fight crew, if asked, would paraphrase as being “oh goddamn, you are more perfect than anything.”

You are numb and pounding down there, the last frantic usage of your pussy an ordeal you endure with cock dumb acceptance. The way his face draws up and crumples shortly after, and then slacks in bliss -it is the single most violently arousing thing you’ve ever witnessed. Feeble as your energy is, you feel a surge of feminine pride at the way he mumbles and moans and finally shakes to a stop.

“That’s it, oh you’re so beautiful.” you moan, watching as his hair falls into his bleary, slow blinking eyes as he comes back to the surface, “And you’re mine.” you sigh, content.

“Mhmm, yours.” he coos, jostling you a little on his cock and he snuggles closer somehow, you think you feel his seed start to dribble out despite the sizable stopper inside you, “Well, bless your heart darling, I’ve got ya folded like a camp chair. Ha!” he gently folds your legs back down, pulling out of you with painstaking gentleness on the way down, “That weren’t very gentlemanly of me, was it?” he teases.

You sway dangerously once placed on your own two feet and you don’t even have the chance to fall, he never lets go before he realizes what’s needed. He picks you up and sets you on the counter, you pool back against the mirror, boneless and debauched, legs stuck bow legged from such a long ride and a vividly puffy pussy leaking his seed onto the counter. He tucks himself back in with still shaking hands. He won’t be fully back down to earth till Honolulu’s runway, he thinks. Just in time to carry you off the plane. And begin it all over again.

Married life, he could get used to this.

“It was perfect, you’re perfect.” you slur earnestly as he returns to you and unzips your dress, hauling it over your teased you hair, baring you fully as you sit on the counter, kicking feet thumping against the cabinets in your patten leather heels

“Nah…perfect -that would be you, Mrs Presley.” he kisses you deeply, before taking you in his arms bridal style and carries you into the bedroom, conscious but uncaring that you’re leaking all over his pristine shirt sleeve.

This next part oughta involve washcloths or wet wipes. But that would require leaving your sweet arms and facing a jet crew that just heard him railing his tender young bride.

Yeah, he’ll just use his mouth.

Hope y’all enjoyed. This is a repost from my (currently censored) main blog @precious-little-scoundrel and in turn it’s a repost from the original written over a year ago on my deleted OG Elvis blog@aconflagrationofmyown I want to start collecting my fics here in case anything happens with my main. Xoxo

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byunpum · 1 year

Note

What will happen when Jake learn from Neytiri and his sister how before the war there are some Navi men and women from different tribes try to court his sister and even after the war they still try to ask her as a mate but still gotten shut down each time

Pair: Human reader x neytiri x jake (family moments)

Warning: None, neytiri and reader being bestie. More auntie content <3

AVATAR MASTERLIST

"Do you remember that guy…what was his name?" speaks Neytiri. As they both laughed and worked on the family dinner. Watching their children run around the hut and play. Jake was sitting next to his partner, also helping to prepare everything. His sister didn't live with them, but used to spend time in the family home. "The one who had given you that nice necklace, a couple of months ago" says neytiri.

"Ohh are you talking about Lewaymä, yes I remember him. He was cute" you chuckle a little. While neytiri pats you on the shoulder. "You're talking like he's dead…I'm asking you if you remember him. Because he asked me about you" says neytiri, laughing mischievously. "Ahh yes?, I thought he had a mate" you say as you continue to cut some fruit.

"Well no…he's single and he told me he was still interested in you." Neytiri looked excited about it. It could have been a long time since you two met. But when you were together you felt like children again.

You two had met years ago, even before Jake came to Pandora. You were one of the youngest humans to arrive at pandora, at the age of 16. Your intelligence and dedication helped you get a scholarship. Joining grace's team, and living with the navis. There you met all the Omaticaya clan and were quickly accepted. Still having your human body. You couldn't have an avatar, because of some DNA complications. So you were also one of those humans that were taken as a sample to see how the navis and humans behaved.

You and Neytiri became very close friends very quickly, you were both the same age. And you liked to talk, walk and learn from both of you. It hurt you very much when you had to separate, it was like another loss for Neytiri. You had spent so much time together, that when you saw each other after a while, when jake was entering the clan. Neytiri's emotion was unique, hugging you and giving you lots of kisses. Even mo'at and her father embraced you, calling you daughter, welcoming you as part of the clan. Even tsu'tey got excited when he saw you.

"What man are you talking about?" asked Jake, now he was the one who was surprised. His little sister had lovers? He couldn't believe it. It wasn't that you were ugly or anything. You were a beautiful, talented and kind woman. But he was surprised that Navi men were interested in a human. "Lewaymä he's been after Y/N for years" says neytiri.

"Are you kidding me?" says Jake, turning to mock you. You give him a quick punch in the arm. "What's wrong with you, you idiot!!!" you yell a little, throwing a piece of food at your brother. "Even if you don't believe it, I have my lovers…very good lovers" you say snickering a little. You can hear how jake laughs out loud, looking at neytiri who was looking at him with a bad look.

"Laugh all you want…but Y/N has made the best warriors of some of the clans fall in love with her. Remember when Tìnzaik had started to seduce you?" says neytiri. You blush at the memory. A navi girl from the war clan had tried to court you. It was not a common thing, but for her you were so interesting and beautiful. You had been in that clan for a while, doing some tours with grace. Of course you rejected the proposal, you didn't feel ready. But Neytiri had been teasing you all week about what happened.

"Are you serious?" Jake still didn't believe it. You decided to ignore him, while you and Neytiri kept talking about your stuff. You weren't going to lose your patience with your brother. After a while, Neytiri ordered jake to go get some things so we could finish dinner. Jake came out of the house, picked up what neytiri ordered him to pick up. But he stopped for a moment, when he saw a tsu'tey approaching. Always with that perfect posture, stunning. Jake noticed that the man had some object in his hand.

"Jakesully" says tsu'tey, laughing a little as he approached him. "Is something wrong?" asks jake, the man can see how his colleague is getting a little nervous. The more he talked to him the more he could notice how he kept moving anxiously, until he interrupts him out of nowhere. "Jake…mmm I don't know if you can" says tsu'tey, lifting the object he had in his hands. Handing the gift to jake.

"And what is this?" asks jake. Tsu'tey swallows hard. "It is for Y/N…. I would like you to give it to her" says tsu'tey. He is sure that his plan was going to work. "And what's in this?" says jake. Tsu'tey becomes nervous. "You just hand this to her…she'll understand" says tsu'tey, waving goodbye to jake. Walking as fast as he could, jake watched as tsu'tey even stumbled a bit as he walked away.

Jake arrived at the hut, approaching you. You and Neytiri were joking, while you were holding lo'ak in your arms. "Love here are the things you asked for…and Y/N tsu'tey told me to give you this" says Jake handing you the wrapped object. It was very beautiful, you could see that everything was handmade and with a unique delicate touch. "And this?" you were surprised. Tsu'tey had never given you anything before.

"He didn't say why he sent it?" said Neytiri, coming closer to you. To look at the new gift. "No…he just gave it to me and then left. He looked a little nervous," says Jake. Neytiri lets out a cry of excitement, hugging you and wiggling like a little girl. This surprised Jake, Neytiri never acted like this with him…it was always with you that she shared these emotions. "Open it…I think I know what it is" says the woman, watching as you slowly open the gift. You had to admit that you felt a little nervous…after all it was tsu'tey.

Opening the gift, you could see that it was a top. It was so beautiful, it had beautiful rocks, you could see the details of the vine patterns that probably had been chosen with care. You took the piece carefully and placed it on your chest. It was your size, it was perfect. "It's very pretty…aunt y/n" says lo'ak, touching the gift carefully. "I know…it's beautiful" you speak, still admiring the gift.

"Ahhhh it's a courting gift..tsu'tey is courting you!!! you have to say yes!!!!" neytiri says, your sister-in-law was so excited. "I don't know…" you start talking. "Tsu'tey?" says jake a little surprised. You quickly turn around to take a look at your brother. You laugh a little and give a complicity look to neytiri. She laughs and understands what you want to tell her.

"You know what…maybe I did accept this gift" you say. Jake settles down and gets a little upset. "Ahh no, no…tsu'tey no" jake says. You raise your hand and place your index finger on your brother's lips making him shut up. "Shhhh you shut up" you speak, taking the gift in your hands again. Neytiri starts laughing hysterically, teasing her mate. Jake gets upset, taking lo'ak from your arms.

"I think he's upset now," Neytiri says, laughing as you stick your tongue out at your brother.

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yournowheregirl · 8 months

Text

read my mind

rating: G | wc: 1225 | cw: none

The first word that comes to mind when Eddie steps foot into the Harrington house is ‘chaos’.

Which is weird, because he had come to know Steve’s house as neat and very much put together. It was probably a combination of weekly cleaning and the fact of Mrs. Harrington’s obsession with interior design and keeping everything absolutely perfect, even though she wasn’t there most of the time. But this time there are loose pieces of paper all over the floor and a pile of books in the middle of the hallway, like someone had spent hours researching something.

Eddie also hears some kind of ruckus coming from the kitchen and he prepares himself for the worst. He might not be all that up-to-date with all of the crazy shit that’s been happening in Hawkins over the last few years, but he has been through enough to know that something weird can happen at anytime.

As he approaches the kitchen, Eddie jangles his keys, sliding them between his fingers as a makeshift weapon, just in case. He stomps his feet a little louder than usual and takes a deep breath, preparing for the worst, as he turns the corner.

If he thought the hallway was chaotic, it’s nothing in comparison to what Eddie finds in the kitchen. The clutter of books and loose papers had made its way onto the tiled floor, but it was joined with what looks like miles and miles of tin foil. Eddie’s eyes follow the silver trail to the other side of the kitchen, where he finds the two culprits.

Steve is sitting at the kitchen table with Robin sitting on the floor in between his legs, and while that isn’t something unusual, their accessories definitely are. Because Steve is wearing an absolutely ridiculous tin foil hat, with a pointy end and all, and for a second Eddie wonders if this is a new hair routine for him. Steve is focused on making a hat for Robin, it seems, as he’s wrapping even more tin foil around her head as well.

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

“Babe!” Steve says with a bright smile. “You came at the perfect time!”

“Uh, you invited me, and also, that doesn’t answer my question. What the fuck are you two doing?” Eddie asks again. “Is this the new and improved Steve Harrington hair ritual?”

“No,” Robin replies with a roll of her eyes. “We’re testing out our telepathy.”

Eddie blinks, completely dumbfounded at what Robin had just said. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, there must have been something in that bunker, or in the Upside Down, something, because we totally have powers now. Like, I always know what Robin’s thinking, for some reason,” Steve says, and oh God, he’s being sincere isn’t he?

“Yes! So today, while I was shelving tapes at work, I was thinking about how the moon landing was totally faked, right? And then Steve just finished my thought, saying ‘oh yeah, they faked it for sure’ like it was nothing,” Robin says excitedly. ”I didn’t even say anything! He just read my mind!”

Now Eddie hasn’t been scared away from the freaky sides of things, it even earned him a nickname, but this is a little too weird. Even for him. There’s no way that Steve and Robin actually have supernatural powers, no matter how hard they try to believe it. But then Eddie notices how excited they both are, and the big smiles on their faces make him smile as well. Sure, they’re being ridiculous right now, but he figures they deserve to be after all they’ve been through.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What can I do to help?”

“Right, so…”

Apparently Robin has raided the Harrington’s personal library on all the science books they had (which Eddie had noticed in the hallway) and cooked up an experiment that will prove once and for all that she and Steve are telepathically connected. All Eddie has to do is a little word association, and if both Robin and Steve write down the same word without looking at each other’s answers, it proves their connection beyond any doubt.

Well, Eddie still has his doubts, but whatever.

Once Steve and Robin are all set, their backs against each other and a piece of paper and pen in hand, Eddie gives them their first word: chocolate. He gives them both five seconds to think of something, but while they look very confident, their answers don’t match up.

“Sorry. Steve said milk and Robin said cocoa,” Eddie tsks. “Not a match.”

“It’s basically the same thing,” Robin scoffs. “Another one.”

“Fine. Your next word is, uh, sun.”

After five seconds, Steve shows his paper, which says summer, while Robin’s says hot. Again, not a match.

“Well, summers are hot, so we’re getting close.” Steve shrugs. “We’ll get the next one, Robs, I can feel it.”

But with every word Eddie throws at them, they continue getting close to a similar answer (Steve answers ‘sky’ while Robin says ‘galaxy’ when Eddie gives them the word ‘star’) but it’s never an exact match. This doesn’t deter them in the slightest; they continue to be convinced of their powers while Eddie starts to believe less and less. Not that he believed it in the first place.

That is until…

“Okay, final one,” Eddie sighs, and because his stomach is rumbling, says, “Hungry.”

Steve and Robin scribble away on their papers and then show Eddie their words in unison. For the first time, they have the exact same word on paper: ‘pasta.’ Eddie must look either shocked or impressed at this turn of events, because Steve positively lights up at the sight of him.

“Did we get it?” He asks, looking over his shoulder at Robin’s paper and beaming when he sees the answer. “Robin! We got it!”

“I knew it! I knew we had a connection!” Robin exclaims. “Do you believe us now, Eddie?”

Eddie huffs in response. “That doesn’t prove anything. You’re just saying that because you were supposed to make pasta today, remember? You invited me over for lasagna?”

“Oh shit. You’re right,” Steve says with a sheepish grin on his face. He carefully removes the tinfoil hat and Eddie tries not to laugh at the ridiculous state of his hair. A very wise decision because he’s rewarded with a quick kiss from Steve. “I guess we got a little distracted. Sorry babe.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky you’re cute,” Eddie flirts back. “Now, where’s the pasta?”

After the kitchen is cleaned up, Steve starts working on the lasagna. Eddie offers to help, but Steve tells him to just sit back and relax. Well, Eddie can definitely do just that. Robin does get to help though, saying something about the lasagna being her mom’s recipe, so she has the final say with the ingredients.

As Eddie watches them cook together, moving around the kitchen in perfect sync and handing each other spatulas and seasoning without asking for it, he can’t help but wonder if Steve and Robin do have some kind of psychic connection after all.

happy birthday!! @stobinesque 🎉🎁🎂 me and @legitcookie cooked up this little silly stobin brainworm for you to celebrate your birthday!! we hope you enjoyed!

#platonic stobin #steddie #platonic stobin fic #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things #alice's writing adventures

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nicoline1998enilocin · 7 months

Text

Babygirl

PAIRING | Chris Evans x Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.8K

SUMMARY | Chris threw a party, but you do not remember anything when you woke up the following day. Not only are you not in the guest bed you were supposed to occupy, but you wake up in Chris' arms after a steamy night. He helps you piece everything together, and your dynamic shifts in a way you're delighted with.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. RPF, friends to FWB, use of pet name (Babygirl), swearing, brief mentions of vomit, slight dub-con/non-con if you squint, smut (handjob, fingering, unprotected sex - wrap it before you tap it!).

A/N | This is requested by the amazing @cevansbaby-dove, for which I can not thank you enough! This man is absolutely amazing, and I can never get enough of your sweet requests for him 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Chris Evans Masterlist

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed, wrapped in a pair of strong arms, your head lying on a warm, firm chest with a smell that is very familiar to you. When you slowly open your eyes and lift your head, you look at Chris' face.

''How the fuck did I end up here?!'' you whisper to yourself as you try and scramble out of his grip, but he only seems to hold on tighter as he sighs softly.

You close your eyes again as you try to piece together what happened last night, but somewhere after your 5th or 6th drink, you're not sure, and your memory is very fragmented.

All you know is that you got way too drunk and somehow ended up in bed with him, and you secretly hoped nothing had gone down between the two of you, but one lift of the comforter showed you all you needed to know.

You're both very naked; he is also very hard right now.

''Hmm, you like what you see, Babygirl?'' Chris says with a deep voice, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as you look up at him with a worried look.

''Did I-, I mean we- us- Did we...?'' you stumble as you sit upright, clinging to the comforter to your chest as you try to piece everything together, which isn't easy with the raging hangover you're currently faced with.

Your head feels like it's throbbing uncontrollably, and you squeeze your eyes shut as a wave of nausea washes over you, trying your hardest not to throw up all over his bed.

''Oookay, Babygirl, let's get you into the shower and some aspirin in you,'' Chris says as the wave of nausea dies down, and when you open your eyes, the world is spinning, and your head throbbing worsens.

In a reflex, he grabs a trash can on the side of his bed, and you clutch it tightly as it feels like your inside is coming out through your mouth, vomiting out what seems like an endless stream of everything you had to eat and drink last night.

Chris rubs his hand softly up and down your back, soothing you through your emotions, and the tears fall down your cheeks as you let out an undeniable sob as a sharp pain shoots through your head.

''C'mere,'' he says as he slowly pulls you into his arms, not to disturb you any further now that you feel like this.

You keep sobbing, and it worsens the pain, which only pushes you to keep crying more, and you end up in a vicious cycle of pain and tears.

''Shh, calm down, Babygirl, you're okay. You're doing well for me,'' he whispers into your hair between soft kisses, and eventually, your sobs die down to quiet sniffles, all while Chris still holds you close.

''Shall we take a shower?'' he asks, and you look at him with wide eyes, unsure if you should do it. It's not that you don't want to do it, but wouldn't it change everything between you two? But then again, last night already changed everything in your dynamic.

''A-are you sure...? I mean-''

''I'm sure, Babygirl. But only if you want it, too. I can't get enough of you now that I've had a taste,'' he purrs into your ear, and your stomach feels leaping.

He slowly lays you down to prepare the shower and returns with some aspirin and a water bottle, urging you to drink something to get you hydrated.

After the medicine has settled in for a bit, you're slowly getting up with Chris' help, and he guides you to the bathroom and into the warm stream of the shower.

You groan as the warm water envelops your body, making Chris' dick twitch at the sound. After last night, he can't get enough of hearing your sweet sounds, and he plans on pulling so many more from you.

He steps in behind you as he closes the curtain of his shower, and you can feel him crowding your space right until you can feel his hands roaming over your arms and sides.

''Chris, what are you doing?'' you ask, a little unsure, though you would lie to yourself if you didn't enjoy him touching you.

''Shh, just let it happen Babygirl. I'm not going to hurt you, and if you feel uncomfortable, you can always use your safeword,'' he whispers, and you nod before giving yourself over to Chris and his touches.

''B-But we should talk afterward,'' you say as you turn around and look up at him.

''We will, but first, I will make you feel better, Babygirl. Orgasms are supposed to help with headaches, after all,'' he says as he nuzzles into your neck, and you lull your head to the side to give him the access he's looking for.

''Please, kiss me,'' you whine a little, and Chris is more than happy to oblige as he steps closer to your body, his now fully hard member poking against your abdomen.

His lips find yours in a sweet kiss that takes your breath away, but your hand slides between your bodies and wraps around him, making him grunt before you slowly move your hand up and down.

''Fuck, Babygirl,'' he groans against your lips, and you can't help but let your mouth curl into a smile as you hear how good he feels.

You envelop his mouth with yours while you keep rubbing up and down with your hand, teasing his tip, swallowing his sounds as your tongues dance together.

Before Chris can even tell you it's happening, you feel his dick twitch in your hand, and without warning, he cums over your hand and both your stomachs with a loud moan.

''Fucking hell, that felt so good, Babygirl, but now it's my turn to make you feel good,'' he says, and you let go of his dick, his hand inching to your dripping pussy.

You gasp as he plunges two fingers into your entrance without warning after feeling how wet you are because of him, and a high whine follows quickly after as it takes you over completely.

He keeps going in a steady motion with his fingers while his thumb plays with your clit until he suddenly stops before your orgasm.

''Trust me, Babygirl, it'll be worth it,'' he says as he picks you up and pushes you against the wall, letting you glide down slightly until your entrance catches onto his tip, and he slides in with a smooth thrust.

The water from the shower washes over you both as he slowly thrusts up into you, taking his sweet time and building you right back up to your orgasm. You trust him with your life, so this won't be any different.

He keeps whispering sweet nothings against you while thrusting, which makes the butterflies in your stomach constantly go wild with every word.

''I-I lo-o-o-ve y-you,'' you say as he picks up the pace, and with that, you shatter around him, your orgasm being mindbending as it makes you cross-eyed for a good minute.

When you're finally coming down, you slump your head forward, and with a dopey grin, you pant against his chest when you realize he came inside you, too, but you didn't even notice.

''I love you too, Babygirl, and there aren't enough words to tell you just how much,'' he says with a kiss against your temple. You two finish your shower, letting Chris wash your hair and your body before enabling you to do the same with him, making you giggle uncontrollably as he gets shampoo on his eye. He curses in a thick Boston accent at the invasion.

''When you're done, he grabs towels for both of you and dries you off, leaving kisses over every inch of skin he can reach, and it feels like second nature to both of you.

''Let's get you into some clothes; we wouldn't want you walking around the house naked when we still have guests, huh?'' he says, and your eyes grow wide as saucers as you look at him, and the realization sinks in.

They heard you fall apart on Chris' cock in the shower and probably during the night, though you don't remember anything about that.

''Chris, we still need to talk about what happened because as much as I love you, I'm not ready for a relationship now,'' you confess, and he nods.

''We can just keep on sleeping together and have a friends-with-benefits relationship,'' he offers as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

''But... what if one of us would get into a relationship with someone else?'' you ask, the thought making your throat close a little, a lump forming.

''I don't want anyone else than you, Babygirl. I want you in whichever way you'll have me, and I'll wait for you as long as I have to,'' he says before capturing your lips in one more kiss that sends you soaring.

''Okay,'' you breathe out when he pulls away, and with a big smile, you get dressed in a pair of boxer briefs. Chris hands you together with one of his shirts, which is way too big and perfect for you.

''C'mon, let's make some breakfast. You deserve it, and we need to get something in your stomach so you won't vomit like that again,'' Chris jokes, and you slap him against his chest.

''Not funny!'' you say, but you laugh anyway, and when you go down the stairs, you're greeted by some of the guests who slept over after the party, including his brother, Scott.

''Well, there we have the two lovebirds,'' he jokes, but Chris shoots him a glare with a slight shake of his head and immediately shuts his mouth.

''Just get seated, Babygirl, and I'll whip you up some breakfast, okay?'' he asks, and you happily do while scrolling through your social media, not paying attention to Chris and Scott's conversation.

''She's not ready for a relationship, but she agreed to be friends with benefits, so I'm happy with it,'' Chris says with a big smile, and Scott claps him on his shoulder approvingly, making you look at the two of them.

''I'll leave you two to your breakfast,'' he says before gracefully sliding out of the kitchen, and not long after, Chris puts a plate down in front of you with pancakes and some fruit, together with a small kiss on the crown of your head.

''I love you, Babygirl,'' he says as he gets seated, and you happily dig into your pancakes while you tell him about some things you saw on social media, but mostly dog videos, since that's precisely what the two of you bonded over, to begin with.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans one shot #chris evans request #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans angst #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut #slight dubcon/noncon

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yesimwriting · 29 days

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/yesimwriting/745776818108366848/when-best-friend-felix-and-reader-kiss-not-a-kiss

That kiss was HEATED. I had this thought of Felix and reader have their moment in which the kiss turns intensely passionate considering their relationship, and you mentioned that Felix wants to hook up with reader so would he ever push it. Like maybe he leads his hand on the skin of her inner thigh, but the real question is how does reader react. Would she fall into the group of people who always lets Felix take the reins and be in to the situation or would it simply freak her out because “we’re best friends.”

so happy you felt the theatrics of it all,, writing that kiss made me go hm..

i think felix is the master of pushing/blurring lines in the most lighthearted, casually dismissible way possible,, like most of the time when things are getting a little too touchy, it's when both of them are drunk/tipsy so it's easy to laugh off and dismiss,,

and whether they're drunk or sober, felix is an expert in reader's body language bc they are that close, so he's constantly subtly checking in and reminding himself that not everyone's as comfortable/casual about those things as felix

reader having an easy out is so important to him for so many reasons,, it protects the friendship and also keeps everything comfy

i feel like reader's reaction depends on so many factors...if she's fun, giggly tipsy and she's happy she'll probably be more open to things,, only pulling away/slowing things down if she realizes she wants things to go further bc while felix might be okay with hooking up with friends, she's scared of getting lumped into the group that obsessively hangs off his arm

if she's feeling a little insecure/jealous,, i can see reader being even more okay with things,, can also see felix picking up on that and trying to use it to his advantage, but that's another thing

however they are not perfect and felix is the type to border on being a little too into the reader and he's also so pretty and reader is just a girl

so let's have a drabble on that :))

"And what--" A laugh tumbles into the words, clumsy and a little breathless. The sound leaves you warm all over, not unlike the feel of sunlight soaking into your skin after an English winter. "What was--what was that last guy on about?"

The question is so enthusiastic, you can't help but grin. Felix is so determined to piece together the words he barely heard as you--with Farleigh's help--attempted to guide him into a cab. "I think he was trying to kick you out."

Felix turns onto his side, head shifting to rest against the edge of his pillow, the angle awkward enough to strain his neck. You make a mental note to not let him fall asleep like that. "I don't think so."

You laugh. "I do."

"You're very cyclical."

Another laugh as your elbow presses into his mattress for support as you try to sit up a little more. You're an odd combination of drained and giddy. Your limbs feel weighed down, making each movement a major commitment, and yet everything's okay. Fuzzy and warm and happy. "You mean cynical?"

In an impressive display of focus, Felix pushes himself so that he's almost sitting, most of his weight resting on his forearm. He pauses, staying there for a beat before sitting up fully. "I said that."

"No," you mumble with an exaggerated shake of your head. "You said cycli--cyclical, which is when something's a circle." You pause, mind not exactly catching up with your mouth. "Goes. It goes in circles, like a cycle--because it's a cycle." You sigh at your uncertainty, turning your head to look at him. "Cycles are just circles?"

Felix presses his lips together, spine straightening as he shifts even closer. "They go in circles, Lovie."

The corner of his mouth tugs itself upwards. His knee close to yours. You straighten your legs, the exposed skin of your thigh pressing against his leg. "Very astute."

Felix's chin dips downwards, his gaze falling towards the bed. You look down, squinting at wrinkled sheets and resting limbs in an attempt to understand what he's looking at. His fingers move to rest against your leg. "All from trying to keep up with you."

You lift your head at the sudden lowness of his voice. How long has he been this close? "Well, you're doing a really good job."

"High praise."

He angles his head forward. A strand of his hair falls forward, but Felix doesn't react. His attention remains solely on you.

Being able to openly examine Felix this closely is a rare luxury. The low lighting of the room tinges his skin with a warm glow. His features are always lovely, but when he's this relaxed they seem better suited to him. There's a lightness that contrasts from any sharpness, a softness that makes him such a gentle giant not even his eyebrow piercing can redeem him.

You've seen people be intimidated by him, have picked up on the way that some avoid his gaze when wandering around campus and how they twist themselves to please him. You fully aware that it's possible, but you're having an extremely hard time grasping it.

You tilt your chin up a fraction of an inch without a second thought, your lips now so close to his jaw it'd be so easy to...

You dismiss the train of thought as assuredly as you can manage anything right now. Your resolve feels unsteady as you part your lips. There's something you should say...some second joke or something else entirely.

Felix's hand shifts forward, his fingers now closer to your inner thigh than the edge of your leg. He drags his thumb against your skin carefully, a steady back and forth pattern.

His eyes find yours before dipping his head forward. He presses his lips against yours, the contact steady and soft. Questioning. You tilt your head upwards, your bottom lip dragging against his.

A hand finds the back of your head, guiding you back. He's everywhere, fingers in your hair, hand inching further up your inner thigh. And yet it's not close enough. The urge for more of this, more of Felix is dizzying.

You part your lips further, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. He moves without breaking contact, settling his weight against his knees. His fingers press into your thigh, gently encouraging your legs to adjust to make room for him. You register a faint tug against your hair. Felix pulls your bottom lip between his teeth.

He pulls back slowly, teeth grazing against your lip before releasing you. The loss of contact, of total distraction, leaves you breathless. So breathless you're shocked that you didn't notice before.

Still panting, the reality of all you didn't notice hits you hard. You and Felix are comfortable with each other...more comfortable than a lot of best friends are. But he's--he's close in a way that you're not sure he's been before.

You're quiet, eyes focused on a spot just above Felix's shoulder. This can't possibly change things between the two of you. You've been drinking and--and what's a tipsy kiss between the two of you? Besides, Felix started it, so he can't feel weird about it. You press your lips together, forcing yourself to not think about the fact that you did nothing to stop it, or even slow it down.

He takes his time untangling himself from you. His hand moves away from your head, fingers trailing down to your shoulder. He squeezes your thigh once before taking his hand back. Felix shifts back, moving to sit next to you.

Felix exhales, body relaxing. He reaches forward, hand searching for yours. You squeeze his palm to yours. "You're getting good at that."

You're not sure you've done much of what just happened, but his praise feels so light and genuine, you have to smile. "All from trying to keep up with you."

Felix lets out a breath that feels like a laugh. He turns his head, pressing a quick kiss against he side of your head. "You're a natural."

You grin, moving your head to rest against his arm. Maybe that wasn't that weird--not for Felix. You know for a fact he's done a lot more with girls he considers friends. "I'm tired."

"Tired you out?" You can hear the grin in his voice, which forces you to keep your lips pressed together to keep from laughing. In protest of his smugness, you start to attempt to slip his fingers out of his grasp. He squeezes your fingers in an attempt to hold you in place. "Sto--stop. I was kidding." You still, lifting your head enough to look up at him. He watches you with eyes to plead for you to believe his innocence. "Kidding."

"I don't believe you, but I'm too tired to argue."

"Wow," he whispers, pulling your hand towards his lap, "That is tired."

Felix bends and straightens your fingers. "What's even more tired is that I'm letting that go too."

Ignoring your attempt at snark, he lifts your hand to kiss the back of your palm. "Then I guess we have to go to bed, so that you'll be ready to argue in the morning."

You're still as he traces the lines of your palm. Despite wanting to go bed, you don't move. "Good idea."

He sets your hand down before carefully moving his arm away from you. Felix expertly ignores the dirty look you throw in his direction. "C'mon, bed, Lovie."

With a sigh, you nod, pulling your legs forward to crawl beneath his sheets.

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny @lilyrachelcassidy @khxna @imbabycowboy

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #bestfriend!felix #bestfriend!felix x reader #saltburn x reader #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

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peachsayshi · 9 months

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➳ minors / ageless / blank blogs dni ➳ tags: angsty; hurt/comfort; mentions of riko’s death; girl dad suguru; trauma

I have this hc that suguru is a bit sensitive about being a father to his daughters, but it definitely has to with the trauma of riko’s death.

this girl, who he only knew for three days, lingers around him like a ghost. she stands over his shoulder when he first sees Mimiko and Nanako trapped in the cage and whispers in his ear to “take them home”.

she stands over his shoulder when he holds his newborn daughter in his arms, and reminds him to “take her to places, and let her see everything”

sometimes you’ll notice his emotional reactions - like how his eyes brim with tears when his daughters tell him that they love him, or the way his voice breaks whenever he sees them overcome with immense joy. but he holds it all in, keeps everything bottled up because he’s too afraid to release the dam and allow these feelings to drown him out.

however, on one particular father’s day, he finds himself overwhelmed beyond reasoning. maybe it was seeing the multiple hand crafted gifts the twins made him, each girl parceling him present after present like they are trying to return his love tenfold. maybe it was the act of his three year old daughter feeding him pieces of the cupcakes that “she made” together with you, in the same way that suguru mindlessly offers her tidbits of fruit at the dinner table.

he’s finds himself sitting on his bed afterwards, taking in all the love, but he can feel riko by his side. time moves forward but she always stays the same, frozen in her youth. she leans her cheek onto his shoulder and sighs with content as she whispers that “this is how it should be”.

for whatever reason he feels like his immense love for his girls is also the atonement for the one he couldn’t save.

so when you step out of the shower, you’re a little taken aback to find him staring blankly at the floor but are even more surprised when you notice tears streaming down his pretty face.

it’s so rare for him to let go - so, you sit by his side while cradling his cheeks in your palm as you face him towards you. you swipe away the tears and peck against the trail while asking with concern if he’s alright, if he’s upset about anything...

he just reaches for your wrists, his forehead kissing yours as he allows himself to be tenderly held between his past and present. there is so much that he represses, plenty of things that toils around that beautifully vast mind of his. it would take more than these few minutes for him to completely unravel before you, but he deeply cherishes your patience with him.

“I just...” he starts to say, but decides to stick to the most basic answer he can find. “I just don’t realize how much they love me”

“it’s immeasurable,” you coo with a smile, leaving a sweet kiss on the corner of his mouth, “you’re an amazing father, suguru. you would give them the world in the palm of their hands if you could...”

“I’m trying my best,” he exhales with a tiny sniffle but the front of his brows knit together in slight agony, with his memory flashing to when he held out his hand to Riko and tried offering her the very same thing.

#just a snippet of an idea of feeding into my ex husband geto series <3 #but honestly this hc makes my heart ache #you cannot tell me that riko's death didn't have a never ending impact on him #especially since most of us talk about how much of a girl dad he is #geto hcs #suguru geto hcs #geto angst #suguru geto angst

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disneyprincemuke · 5 months

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our spot, 2 * ls2

it’s about two weeks since you last saw logan and you find him sitting all alone in the dark

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!reader

warnings: logan is the warning idk

notes: i know it took me forever to write this subpar ass second part but like- i kinda like it because i'm bad with resolutions and making up (i'm single)

also i'd like to have a word with whoever made this gif because it's like so disrespectful like he is so fine why would u do this?

(f1 masterlist)

(prev)

“you’re growing up too fast,” your mother had said to you earlier after you finished packing the last of your boxes. the boxes that would be sent off to new york in a couple of days before you head out right before new year’s.

thankfully, your family agreed on flying over with you to spend the holiday with you. you had spent weeks and months rethinking the choice of your relocation; if you could handle being away from your family.

your father insisted you explore the world without them by your side and you took up the offer. you'd broken up with the guy you were seeing a couple of days ago.

while you had your doubts about where your relationship was going, there was no denying the amount of time you'd spent together. it still stung you quite a little bit to up and leave him. he had asked you if there was any way to make it work, but you couldn't get yourself to say anything.

so, he pulled you in for a hug and wished you well. and then you left, tearing up very slightly on the drive home alone.

it would be nice to start fresh in a new place. your last conversation convincing you to pick up the pieces of yourself and start moving on for real.

though, it seems it would take forever to do that. you hadn’t only lost a romantic connection when you lost logan, but also your best friend.

the first person you called when you crashed your car on the highway when you were 17, the person who stood up to the girl who made fun of you when you were 9, and the only one who knew you better than you knew yourself.

so here you are at 3 in the morning walking the quiet streets of your small town with your hands in the pockets of your sweater. you try to stifle the sniffle that escapes you, having spent the past couple of hours in tears at the thought of leaving behind everything you’ve ever known.

packing up and spending months in new york, then indefinitely in germany made you a nervous wreck. though the company you’re working for has arranged everything for you from the airport pickup to the apartment estate you’ll be spending your days in.

when you left your house, you glanced across the street to disappointment. logan’s truck isn’t parked on the street and his room had its blinds drawn — the way it’s been since you last saw him.

when you first got the promotion, you almost picked up your phone to text logan. but the heavy weight of guilt made you hit erase and put your phone down after a second.

even when you had graduated about 6 months after cutting contact, you wanted so bad to send him a photo of you and your degree together. but, there was something so embarrassing about reaching out and starting a conversation like nothing had happened.

you posted it on your instagram stories, reposting every single tagged picture for days after to hopefully prompt a message of congratulations from logan. but he didn’t bite.

it made you wonder if you’ve truly made a mistake suddenly cutting him off.

you sigh, making a sharp turn after you pass the school. there’s a dark figure up ahead on the playground that makes you question if it’s a mistake that you’ve come here so late at night.

but it’s a relatively safe gated community. you press your lips together as you approach, your breath hitching in your throat when you’re finally able to make out the man sitting at the end of the slide.

“fancy seeing you here,” logan mumbles, throwing the pieces of rubber from the playground floor into the ground. “it’s late.”

“yeah, i just finished packing,” you answer under your breath, passing him to sit at the edge of another slide. “just needed to do some thinking. didn’t expect you’d be here.”

logan grins to himself with a soft chuckle. “yeah, i’m sorry for intruding.”

you hadn’t been here since you last asked him to come here and see you. in fact, prior to that meetup, you’d only been here a total of 5 times since you last talked.

it reminded you too much of the memories you shared with him growing up.

you lie back in the comfort of the slide. “don’t worry about it. i don’t come here often,” you smile to yourself as you confess. "not anymore."

"i can tell," logan mutters. "i've been here every night since you texted me."

"oh." you take a deep breath, not knowing if you'd like the answer to your question. "what for?"

"thinking real hard," he says just barely above a whisper. he turns to you with a small smile. "i was thinking about you. and germany... and how close it is to me."

your breath hitches. you won't admit to him, but you accepted the offer to move to germany to at least be remotely close to him. or to at least convince him to give your relationship a shot.

you've been apart for years. the only way you got to spend time together back then was if you'd make the effort to visit him in the uk, or if he had the time to fly back home. it was difficult to keep finding ways to make the relationship last.

you had to pretend for a while that you never had to end it. but you knew in your heart two years ago that it cannot keep going on like this. you cried and cried every single time at the airport when he would have to leave you behind in this small town.

you knew his mother mentioned to him about the guy you were seeing. because your mother came to you asking questions about the mysterious guy you never even told her about.

every night after that, you thought about calling logan to explain yourself; that it's not what he thinks it is. but were you really in the position where you had to explain yourself?

"i do love you," he says, picking at the rubber grit once more to avoid your stare. "but the long-distance... barely seeing each other for months on end... it was hard. i couldn't give you what a normal guy would. i couldn't keep making you wait around for nothing."

"but that's not up to you to decide," you say slowly, hoping that he would understand where you came from. "it's unfair. i was willing to go through all of that with you. we've been through so much together."

"i didn't want to risk losing you over something like that," logan sighs, looking up at you in despair. there's a sadness in his eyes that you've never seen before. "it was lonely without you. you're my best friend - losing you over something different entirely was devastating. i didn't have anybody else."

you shake your head, unsure of what to say to him. it was lonely for you when you cut him off. you went from communicating everyday to only catching glimpses of his life on tv, instagram and media news sites.

every single achievement you had, you thought about calling him and hearing his proud voice. but you couldn't fully back yourself on the fact that you broke your own heart because he wanted to keep you around.

"i thought of you every single day," logan says. "i'm sorry. i know you've got a boyfriend and i'm sure he's great, but-"

"i told you," you laugh dryly, throwing your head back. "if you just tell me right now... i'll be all yours."

"but i can't do that to somebody else," logan frowns with a shake of his head. he's contemplated a lot over the past couple of days. how appealing your proposal sounds to him, but the fact that you're still seeing somebody has been making him hesitate. "you know what that means."

you press your lips together. logan's always made sure that he was as morally right as much as he could with his decisions. you sigh, a small hesitant smile stretching your lips. "we broke up."

"what?"

"i broke up with him a couple days ago," you whisper, dropping your eyes to avoid his questioning stare. "i just wanted to go to germany with a fresh start."

logan doesn't say anything immediately. and you don't follow up your confession with anything either. so you look up into the sky as you sway your feet left and right as you try to count the stars that illuminate the night sky. your heart pounds in your chest as you anticipate what he will say next.

and you know he's still there, thinking hard because you can still see his shadow against the playground flooring.

"stay the night," he says softly.

you sit up, both of your hands gripping the sides of the slide as you turn to look at him. "what did you just say?"

"come home with me and then let's talk about it," logan smiles, though he still looks just as tired as before. "let's figure it out, you and me; germany. let me make this right."

"you idiot," you laugh, tears falling out of your eyes again as you have another outburst. "logan."

"wait, why are you crying?" his voice is soft and laced with shock, hands held out towards your body. "i thought this was what you wanted? did i cross a line? i'm sorry."

"no, i just," you cry, wiping the tears from your face. "god, i just missed you so much. i'm sorry. it's not you."

he's now gotten up from his seat. he's knelt down next to the slide you're sitting in, trying to reach out and touch your arm. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry it took me this long." his thumbs swipe over your cheeks, wiping away your tears. "please don't cry anymore."

@thatgirlmj @lfm98 @gentlyweeps-world @ladywhistledownx @charli123456789 @lightdragonrayne @k-pevensie28 @angsthology

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant x fem!reader #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 x y/n #logan sargeant x y/n #formula 1 #formula 1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant fanfiction #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 3 months

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(cw: mentions of losing a close family member)

König doesn’t really know how to cook.

Well, anything other than the basics… Most of his meals consist of rice, meat and some kind of vegetable. Or like a carton of eggs. And of course, he can warm up meals and cook pasta and put pesto on it. But working in the military his whole life, he never really had the need to learn to prepare something to eat other than those basics, because most of the meals were provided and he’ll eat any- and everything. When he’s on leave, he cycles through his staples and also orders a lot of take-out, just to satisfy the calorie intake he needs at his size.

His grandma used to cook for him, ever since he was a little boy and then when he returned to Austria as an adult, she always made sure to prepare his favourite meals. He hasn’t been back ever since her funeral, he tells me while he gets some ingredients out of the fridge. Eggs, milk and butter. He misses her and her cooking, but that’s just how it is in life. Flour from the pantry. Mixing it all together, eyeballing the measurements, and adding a pinch of salt.

She taught him how to make Palatschinken. Thin pancake or crepe-like sheets of dough that he apparently made too much of. Rolled up, filled with jam and powdered sugar on top.

“Pala- what?”, I ask, wanting him to teach me how to say the word properly.

“Pa-la-tschin-ke.”, he repeats, sounding the syllables out, and I imitate them, until he tells me that I’ve got it.

I sit at the cooking island in his kitchen, on one of the chairs, and watch him pour the thin dough into the hot buttered pan. It bubbles and sizzles as he swirls it around, until the whole bottom is covered. Waiting for it to be cooked from one side. He lifts the edges with a spatula to make sure. Then he looks at me, raising his brows, like ‘Look at me, look what I can do’, lifting the pan of the hob, holding it in front of his body.

Oh, oh, that won’t- He flips it with a rehearsed flick of his wrist, the thin pancake rotating in the air for just a moment, then landing in the pan again.

I coo, clapping excitedly. He bows jokingly, with the pan still in his hand.

When it’s done, he puts the Palatschinke on a plate, spreads apricot jam on the thin dough, rolls it up and then sprinkles powdered sugar over it, setting the sweet roll in front of me. Gesturing me to eat.

I dig in, cutting it, and the fluffy dough almost melts on my tongue, the sweet jam spreading in my mouth as I chew. God damn it, that’s good. Simple, but very tasty. I finish the first one in record time and he puts the next Palatschinke on my plate. I fill it myself, devouring that one as well. He starts to make more, stacking them on a separate plate.

“You wanna try to make one as well?”, he asks me then.

I nod excitedly and get up from the stool. He hands me the pan and the ladle, putting some more butter onto the hot teflon, and I add the dough. When it’s cooked through, I try to do the flip just like he did. The little crepe flops up a bit and then folds in on itself. I burst into laughter and he joins in. Well, that didn’t go as planned.

“Don’t worry, that happened to me a lot of times.”, he says, scrapping the dough into the bin. “We’ll try again.”

So, the same spiel again. Until the Palatschinke is ready to be flipped. He’s standing behind me, we’re both gripping the handle of the pan and he’s looking over my shoulder, coaching me through it.

“Mit Gefühl.”, he tells me. “Carefully, but with determination.”

“I wanted to flip this thing, not get a lecture on how to enter some-“, I quip, but I get cut off when he playfully pinches my butt cheek.

It makes me jump up a bit and I bat his hand away. “König!”, I yelp, with pretend indignation, but he only grins down at me.

“Come on, you can do it.”, he says, nudging the pan in my hand.

“On three. One, two, three!”, I count down and then we flip it, together. The piece of dough rotates in the air and lands in the pan again.

“First authentically self-made Palatschinke.”, he says, with joking solemnity, as he drops it onto my plate. I do the rest of the steps and then eat it as well.

He makes Palatschinke after Palatschinke, telling me some more about his grandma and the dishes she used to cook, until all of the dough is gone. I listen to him and eat a whole bunch of them until I’m so full, I feel like I’m gonna burst. He finishes the rest of the thin pancakes, decimating a whole stack of them with lots of jam and sugar.

“The rest we can cut into small strips and put into soup.”, he explains.

“Into soup?!”, I question what he just said.

“Yes, Frittatensuppe. It’s really delicious.”, he says like it’s a normal thing.

I shake my head. Those Austrians and their weird dishes.

If you wanna try and make your own Palatschinken like metalhead!könig and reader, I got a recipe for you! Enjoy! a/n: this is the start of a little series I'm doing for mh!k x reader because I have so many scenes (some already finished a while ago like this one) that don't have a certain place in the plot and are just sitting in my word document, left to rot, so i'm gonna post them as their own random scenes that are still connected to them! some of it is gonna be sfw comfort fluff like this one, some is gonna be nsfw - stay tuned <3 Wanna get to know them better? Find more chapters in the Masterlist

#metalhead!könig #spending time with mh!k #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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copias-girl · 1 year

Text

To Catch a Cardinal: Chapter X

This is the song playing at the beach! <3

A/N: Ok it’s finally here!! Get ready for some fun in the sun! ☀️ Also fun fact I’m a certified lifeguard and trained in first aid and CPR so everything in this is actually accurate! Except for the fact that I made it ridiculously horny lmaoo

All chapters here <3

•♥︎𖤐♥︎•

You’d finally arrived at the beach, you and your friends scrambling to get out of the car and grab your things from the trunk.

Copia was slower than the rest of you due to being so self conscious after Rob’s comments about him in the car. He was apprehensive to be in the pit of snakes that was your friend group, however he didn’t want to disappoint you.

Like a good trooper, he took a breath before getting out of the car. He carried his boombox and the black and white striped umbrella, and once you found a good spot, he stuck it in the sand. Rob put the cooler in the shade, and you all began laying your towels down side by side.

Taking a deep inhale of the balmy sea air, a bright smile spread across your face. It was so wonderful to be back by the ocean.

•𖤐•

The last time you’d been at the beach was the previous summer, when the Papas were going and Terzo insisted on bringing you along. You smirked to yourself at the memory; of how Terzo had faked drowning so you’d rush into the water and save him. You had worriedly dragged the unresponsive man onto the sand, beginning to perform CPR on him. However, as soon as your lips brushed his to give him mouth to mouth resuscitation, you felt two arms snaking tightly around you while Terzo stuck his tongue into your mouth in a passionate French kiss.

Surprised, you had squealed into his mouth, swatting at him as you tried to pull away.

“You pervert! Get back here!” You shouted once he had finally released you, laughing and chasing after the man as he ran for his life, wearing the smallest speedo you’d ever seen.

“Fratello, tu coglione! Stop harassing Sorella or she’ll leave the ministry because of you!” Secondo barked at his brother, crossing his arms and flicking his shades back on in annoyance.

“You’d really miss little ol’ me?” You giggled, huffing in exhaustion as you and Terzo stopped chasing each other around and sat back on your towels with the other Papas.

“Of course. I’m not losing my favourite Sorella just because questo carciofo can’t keep his hands off her.” Secondo sniffed, not taking his eyes off the book in his hands. As much as he tried to act serious and scary, he just couldn’t hide his soft spot for you.

Primo had spent most of his time in the shade, slathered in sunscreen and trying to shoo off seagulls when they tried to steal his peach slices. However, his mismatched eyes lit up in interest each time you came back from the water, dumping a bucket of seashells and sea glass next to him so the two of you could sort through them together.

Coincidentally, you’d found a green piece of sea glass which you gifted to Secondo, a violet one that you presented Terzo with, and a red one that you excitedly gave to Primo. To this day, they all still had the little pieces, keeping them on their desks as a reminder of you.

Overall, the four of you had a ridiculously fun day, and you wondered why you didn’t go to the beach more often. Perhaps it was because of the terrible sunburn that Terzo developed after that day.

“I told you not to use all that tanning oil!” Secondo had scolded his younger brother as he drove you all home.

“The Emeritus bloodline does not tan well.” Ghostly pale Primo solemnly nodded in agreement from the front seat.

“Come fottutamente ovvio! I think I fucking know that now! Ow, cazzo!” Terzo groaned while you comforted him, the two of you sitting in the back seat.

And for two whole weeks you’d been assigned to slather aloe vera all over Terzo while the cheeky bastard coyly smirked at you. You always wondered if he got that sunburn on purpose.

•𖤐•

“Where’s your towel?” You asked Copia, noticing he didn’t have one with him.

“Ah, shit…” He mumbled, averting his gaze shyly. “Ho dimenticato…”

“You could share with me. I didn’t realize this was a bigger one when I grabbed it.” You offered, gesturing to your big square beach towel, the black one with the white grucifix on it.

“I-I don’t want to pester you, Sorella.” The Cardinal shook his head timidly.

“Nonsense! Otherwise I’ll be lonely on this big towel all by myself.” You giggled. Everyone had taken their clothes off, having their swimsuits underneath, and Copia began to do the same. He anxiously took his hoodie off, then his sweatpants, then pulled his t-shirt over his head and sat down on your towel to remove his shoes and socks. Funnily enough, the man looked the most bashful when he removed his gloves. Copia felt terribly naked without his gloves.

You gaped at him for a moment, having to hide your grin. Your friends were already snickering to each other about it, and you didn’t want the poor man to think you were laughing at him too. But sweet Satan, he was wearing one of those old fashioned black and white striped men’s one-piece swimsuits. It was basically like a tank top with shorts attached. Of course Copia would wear one of those. Part of you was disappointed that you didn’t get to see the man shirtless, but you were also delightfully amused at how on-brand it was. Besides, it was fairly tight, and obviously allowed you to see much more of him than his cassocks did.

Before you could study Copia any further, your friends were all chanting for you to give them a fashion show with your new bikini.

“Alright aright, gimme a second!” You laughed, going behind the umbrella to undress. You shoved your clothes into your beach bag before stepping into view.

“Well, here it is!” You shrugged, giving them a little twirl.

You looked like an infernal goddess. And the tiny black bikini hardly left anything to the imagination. The top- with ‘See you in Hell’ cheekily written on it- cupped your breasts perfectly; barely containing them as they slightly spilled out, creating a delicious cleavage. And the bottoms- if you could even call them bottoms- were basically just a little black thong with the grim reaper on the front.

Rob wolf-whistled as your girlfriends hollered and cheered at you, causing you to laugh at their reactions.

“Unholy moly, settle down!” You giggled, turning around and giving them another view of your voluptuous ass, coyly looking over your shoulder before beginning to laugh.

“Unholy moly is right…” Rob murmured with a smirk.

“Haven’t you guys ever seen a girl in a bikini before?” You asked in amusement.

“Not like you! Ugh, body goals.” Mable sighed dreamily.

“I know right? What was the Dark Lord thinking when he made you??” Lilith added.

“Speak of the Devil, when we get home I’m going to make an offering to Satan so he’ll make me look like you!” Ava beamed.

“You guys are too much.” You giggled, waving them off. You noticed how Emily was a bit quiet, side-eyeing Rob while he drooled over you.

Your eyes finally flicked to Copia, but you were immediately alarmed as you saw blood gushing out of his nose while he stared at you, his cheeks red and his wide eyes trained intensely on you.

“Cardinal!” You gasped, rushing to kneel beside the man. “Are you alright?”

Copia was unresponsive, continuing to gape at you; his lips parted, eyes practically popping out of his skull. He was under your spell, totally and utterly entranced by your body. Had he died? Was this chthonic paradise? It felt as though Satan had rewarded Copia for his unholy works, bestowing you upon him as a gift; the prettiest little succubus in the whole inferno.

Reaching into your bag, you grabbed a tissue before worriedly turning back to the man. Meanwhile, Rob and your fellow Sisters of Sin sat on their own respective beach towels, gawking at Copia in a mix of confusion and amusement, exchanging hushed, speculative whispers of judgement.

“Cardinal, are you okay??” You fretted, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, wiping drips of crimson blood off his moustache, lips, and chin.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry, I-” The man shook his head, trying to snap out of it. “I-I don’t- ehm-” He couldn’t help it; his painted eyes roamed your body as he stuttered out nonsense. He had never seen a girl so undressed before, especially not so close to him like this. And, Hell, this wasn’t just any girl. This was you. Copia never ever thought he’d get the chance- the privilege- to see you with so little clothes on. However, he felt ever so disgusted with himself for making such a big deal about it. He really was a depraved pervert, wasn’t he?

It dawned on you then, with the way he was uncontrollably ogling you. And when you stole a glance downward, you bit your lip at the sight of the very visible bulge in his swimsuit, the black and white striped fabric only accentuating it.

You had literally just given this perverted old man an anime nosebleed.

You had to hide your smirk, wickedly snaking an arm around his shoulders as you moved to straddle his lap.

The Cardinal’s breath hitched in his throat as he bit back a moan; the feeling of you seated on top of him like this was sure to make him pop. He felt hot, too hot; but not from the scintillating sun beating down on him, no. You put the sun to shame, your radiant beauty beaming millions of times brighter than that pendant of fire in the sky.

“Poor little mouse. Let me help you.” You cooed, leaning in close as you gently dabbed away the blood. Rob’s eyes widened at the sight. Was this how you were acting at the sleepover? Why were you indulging the dirty old man in his sick fantasies?

“G-g-g-grazie, Sorella, m-mi dispiace…” Copia stammered quietly, embarrassed. He prayed to Satan below that you wouldn’t be able to feel his cock hardening and straining against the thin fabric of his swimsuit.

You could.

“Why do you think that happened, hm?” You asked.

“I, ehm… I-I don’t, eh- …ehm..” Copia mumbled, his astonished gaze fixed directly onto your tits, which were dangerously close to his face now that you were perched on his lap.

“Because he’s a dirty old pervert who’s never even seen a girl in a swimsuit before!” Emily interjected, crossing her arms with a scoff.

“Gross.” Lilith wrinkled her nose.

The Cardinal’s cheeks burned with shame, the lines on his face deepening with guilt as he knew their words to be true.

“I mean, I’m pretty used to seeing girls with little on, but…” Rob sniffed. “your body is fire. Kinda takes a man off guard, ya know? So give the depraved virgin a break.” He smirked.

Impressive, Rob managed to compliment you and insult Copia all in the same breath.

Your poor Cardinal flinched and averted his mismatched gaze as Rob prodded at his virginity, which was obviously a very sensitive topic for Copia that caused his self esteem to plummet. Finally finished wiping up the nosebleed, you removed yourself from the man’s lap and sat on your towel next to him.

You scooted a bit closer, snaking an arm around Copia’s neck to pull him towards you. His eyes widened, alarm flashing in those beautifully odd irises as you leaned in in in, your lips ghosting over his ear and causing him to shiver.

“Between you and me, I wouldn’t ever want a man who’s been around the block as much as Rob claims to have been.” You whispered with a little smirk before pulling away.

Copia only stared at you, a pitiful look on his blushing face as he mulled your words over in his head. He didn’t want to overthink things, because he knew you definitely didn’t mean anything by your remark. You were just a kind Sister of Sin who took pity on an old man. You were simply trying to make him feel better after Rob hurt his feelings. Copia stared down at his lap; he would be a fool to think that someone like you could actually like a man like him.

All settled in and enjoying the hot sun, you opened the cooler, everyone grabbing an ice-cold bottle of cherry coke.

“Salute!” You chirped, holding your drink up, the glass bottles all clinking together as your friends toasted with you.

“Salute, Cardinale.” You giggled softly, warmth in your eyes as Copia gave you a shy smile and clinked his bottle of coke against yours before taking a sip.

•𖤐•

You reclined back on your towel as Florida Kilos by Lana Del Rey filled the sweet summer air, playing from Copia’s radio. You flicked your bat wing sunglasses on, taking the opportunity to really get a good look at the man.

He was pasty pale- obviously from constantly being covered up in his cassock- with a smattering of endearing little freckles on his flesh, matching the ones on his face. Your eyes scanned over his form, biting your lip before taking another sip of cherry coke. What a treat, the swimsuit had a crew neck collar, so you could actually see his neck and a little bit of his collar bone! Oh how you longed to kiss and bite at his neck, leaving dark hickeys there while he made love to you, laving your tongue over the bruises later as you both relaxed after several orgasms. You’d ask Copia to give you matching ones, begging him to mark you as his.

Your hungry eyes trailed lower, then, taking in the way his waist pinched in and the softness of his tummy. And of course, the very nicely sized package between those surprisingly muscular thighs. Your gaze followed his hand as he nervously ran his fingers through his greying hair, and oh what beautiful hands your Cardinal had. They were just perfect. You licked your lips, salivating as you imagined them inside you; two of his elegant fingers down your throat and two stuffed in your tight, wet pussy as you moaned and mewled for him.

“You know, you’re pretty modest for a Cardinal of the Satanic Church.” You remarked, hooking your finger in the collar of his swimsuit, giving it a teasing little tug.

“Eh? Oh.. W-well, there is, ehm… T-there is not much to show…” Copia responded timorously with a sad little chuckle, gesturing to himself.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Cardinal.” You responded softly, causing the hot blush on Copia’s cheeks to spread to the tips of his ears. He stole a shy glance at you, then another, followed by another. Satanas, the man couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you. You could feel his gaze all over your body before studying your pretty face.

Copia was entirely in awe of your beauty, so needy for you. He longed to kiss your fruit punch lips in the bright sunshine. The poor man wanted nothing more than to work up the courage to pull you onto his lap and share cherry cola kisses with you until the sun was smouldering low in the sky. He inwardly cursed himself for being far too diffident to do so.

Releasing a sigh, he tried to relax, taking another long sip of his coke.

“Have you ever had sex on the beach?” You asked abruptly.

The Cardinal gasped, then immediately began sputtering and coughing, choking on his drink as your friends stifled laughter. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before looking at you incredulously.

“N-no, I have obviously never… done that anywhere…” Copia murmured.

You burst out into giggles. “I meant the drink, silly! You know, a sex on the beach?” You clarified. “I think we’ve already established that you’re a virgin, Rat.” You added with a kittenish little smirk.

Copia’s cheeks burned with shame. “Ah… W-well, no, I have not had the drink either…” He responded.

“Maybe next time we could have sex on the beach together.” You offered. “You know, the drink.”

Copia’s eyes widened, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly he turned to look at you. Alarm coursed through his veins as he felt his cock beginning to harden again.

“You naughty devil, you!” Lilith laughed. “You’re almost as bad as Papa with your innuendos! And you aren’t even old enough to drink!”

“Naughty? Me?? Never!” You giggled coyly. “Besides, I’m not making any innuendos, that’s just what the drink is called! And what about the unholy communion wine every black mass? One drink wouldn’t make a difference!”

“Why would she be making innuendos anyway, Lil? It’s not like she actually wants to fuck a 50 year old virgin who literally looks like a rat.” Emily laughed, causing you to frown.

“Hey, rats are cute!” You pouted, throwing your arms around the humiliated Cardinal and giving him a squeeze. Oh, this man was so cute with those big mismatched puppy dog eyes, his lower lip flushed from biting it out of nervousness. You swore he’d probably squeak like a chew toy if you hugged him too tightly.

Copia tensed up, heart rate rising and gaze darting all around at the sensation of your soft, bare flesh pressed against him, but the contact was a soothing balm to the hurt he was feeling at your friends’ cruel words. The Cardinal knew he looked like a rat; that was a comment people had often made throughout his life. He was already so self conscious about his looks, why did your friends feel the need to constantly point it out, especially in front of you?

Emily rolled her eyes. “Get your eyesight checked then.” She murmured.

“My eyesight is perfectly fine.” You quipped, mindlessly petting Copia’s hair and scratching at his scalp. Lucifer, he really did feel like your pathetic little pet, helpless and piteous while you defended him.

“Well maybe you have heatstroke and it’s causing you to not think straight, babe. The sun beating down on you like this could fry your brain like an egg, ya know.” Rob suggested with a grin, earning a cacophony of giggles from the other sisters.

You gave them a dirty look, opening your mouth to respond snidely, when you suddenly pulled away from Copia. “Oh shoot! Speaking of the sun, I almost forgot to put sunscreen on!” You gasped, rummaging around in your bag and pulling out the bottle of coppertone.

You flipped the lid open and began squirting the white liquid onto your arms, legs, and chest; the distinctive, synonymous-with-summer smell delighting your senses.

Copia awkwardly sat next to you and watched as you began to rub it into your skin. Biting his lip, he tried to focus on anything else but you. The sky, the sand, the ocean waves. But his gaze just kept getting pulled back to your stunning form, and the way you were almost sensually working the sunscreen into your smooth, supple flesh. He tried- Satan knows he tried- to ignore what the white cream looked like. Poor Copia tried so hard not to imagine you signing in delectation while being painted with a big load of his hot cum, gazing up at him with those pretty bedroom eyes of yours.

His lip quivered and his cock twitched at the mere thought, saliva pooling in his mouth as he imagined capturing you in a deeply passionate kiss. The Cardinal craved you, he needed to taste your sweet lips again. And Copia was ashamed to admit that he was also thinking about tasting you in different ways too.

He swallowed thickly, attempting to control his indecent thoughts; but there was just something about the balmy, halcyon summer air and the sultry vision of you so close to him wearing that sinfully small bikini that nearly drove him mad.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than leer at an innocent young girl?” Emily glowered, startling Copia from his thoughts.

“Oh! I-I-I- N-no, I was just- eh-” Copia stammered, mouth hanging open in surprise.

“Well obviously he doesn’t have anything better to do, Em. I think being a pervert is his hobby or something.” Rob sneered.

“Close your mouth, Cardinal, you’re gonna start drooling any second!” Mable added, causing Lilith and Ava to burst out laughing, making comments about how hilariously shocked the man looked after being called out.

Copia not only felt humiliated, but also utterly disgusted with himself for being such a lecherous creep. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the embarrassment, his face flushed and pyretic, chest tight with shameful anxiety.

But then you were gently tapping his arm, drawing his attention back to you.

“Could you get my back?” You batted your thick eyelashes at him, holding the bottle of sunblock up to him.

The snivelling Cardinal’s attention snapped to you, staring at you with an expression comprised of both shock and panic.

“I gotcha, babe!” Rob interjected, beginning to get up, but you only waved him off.

“Don’t trouble yourself. Like you said, the Cardinal doesn’t have anything better to do.” You stated with a smirk. “Right, Co-Co?”

Copia glanced uneasily at the now vexed Rob before turning back to you and nodding quickly, trembling hands taking the bottle from you.

The other sisters looked at you like you had spiders crawling out of your eye sockets. Who on earth would simply wave off the opportunity to have dreamy, handsome Rob rubbing you down??

You removed your sunglasses and flipped over, situating yourself on your stomach and resting your head on your arms, giving the sweet man a delicious view of your ass.

Copia looked utterly dumbfounded as his pitifully wide eyes scanned over your perfect curves. He no idea what landed him in this golden position. Copia felt as though he had no charm, no charisma, and that his looks were quite laughable. And yet here he was, squirting an ample amount of sunscreen into his palm, nervously licking his lips and unsure of what to do next.

“I don’t have all day, Rat.” You glanced back at the poor man with lusty eyes and a playful smirk. Before laying back down, you reached around and untied your bathing suit too, leaving your back completely bare for Copia.

The Cardinal sucked in a sharp breath. Somehow, the absence of that thin little strap going across your back made the situation all the more obscene, forbidden, naughty. Shaking the perverse thoughts from his mind, the man hastily rubbed the cream between his shaking hands before gently pressing his palms against your back.

Slowly but surely, he began smoothing the sunscreen into your silky flesh, being mindful to not touch you too excessively. He didn’t want to mistakenly enjoy it too much; didn’t want to take advantage of you like that.

“Mmm, that feels good.” You sighed sensually, and Copia’s heart skipped a beat at your praise. He truly wanted to make you feel good; he really wanted to be the one to make you feel good.

Gaining a bit more confidence, he smoothed his hands over your back a bit more firmly, but murmured pitifully desperate apologies whenever his fingertips brushed against the sides of your breasts. Copia tried in earnest to do his best for you, giving you a sort of massage while he worked in the cream; sweeping up up up to your shoulders and down down down, a hot blush burning on his cheeks as his hands timidly ghosted over your lower back.

“Ah~!” Your breathy moan was almost obscene, causing Copia to stutter in his movements. He was in such a daze that he had nearly forgotten the two of you weren’t alone; and when he stole a glance upwards, he was met with the judgemental countenances of your friends glaring right at him. Especially Rob. That dangerous look of envy in the boy’s eyes frightened Copia.

He stared at them like a deer in the headlights before you grabbed his attention once again.

“Cardinal, you’re so good with your hands.” You purred. “Keep going?”

Your praise stoked a hot fire of desperation within the man, so eager to please as he immediately continued his ministrations, deciding to ignore your friends. After all, you wanted him to do this for you, and Copia was beyond happy to obey your wishes.

His cock jumped with each little moan that tumbled from your sweet lips, and soon, you were murmuring something about going lower.

“Eh… M-mi dispiace, Sorella. Ch-che hai detto?” He asked quietly.

“Can you go lower?” You asked again with a another deeply relaxed sigh.

The Cardinal remained silent, warily moving to rub his hands along your lower back, his thumbs pressing into the dimples there as he moved to gently knead the flesh of your hips. The man bit his lip, shaking his head slightly and letting out a shaky exhale as he caught himself relishing in the moment far too much to be appropriate. He lessened his grip on your hips just as you began to murmur something else.

“No, like… Go lower.” You told him.

“S-Sorella, forgive me b-but… If I go any lower I… I-I’ll be…” He stammered awkwardly.

“Yeah go ahead. I didn’t get my bum earlier and I’m too comfy to move now.” You replied nonchalantly.

Copia’s mouth went dry, his head spinning and heart pounding violently in his chest as he hesitated. A million thoughts were going through his mind at once. He had never touched a girl there; or anywhere for that matter! And he had never even thought it possible since everyone found him to be so revolting. What should he do? What would he do? What if he accidentally orgasmed in front of you and your friends?

He mistakenly came when you were sitting on his lap in the car that one time, but he was thankfully able to hold in his moans and disguise the audible ones as being gasps of surprise at the terribly bumpy road. But this time- Oh, Satanas- he wouldn’t be able to hold anything in; he’d be a pathetic, whimpering mess. You’d all laugh at him and call him a dirty old man. You’d never speak to him again. You’d be disgusted by him just like everyone else.

Copia could already feel his sensitive cock filling out more and more at the thought of getting to feel you up like this.

Bracing himself, he grabbed the bottle of sunblock and squirted some more into his palm. And then, slowly and carefully, the Cardinal placed his quivering hands on your ass, one on each cheek. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, swallowing back a moan that threatened to erupt from his mouth as he felt precum beginning to ooze out of his cock.

“What a fucking creep. I think I’m gonna puke.” Emily shuddered.

Copia was frozen in place, the whole world having had fallen away as he stared down at the sight of his hands on your perfect ass, almost in disbelief at the reality of the situation.

Not wanting to keep you waiting, he timidly began to grope your plump flesh, so smooth and soft and round, blushing furiously at the fact that your bikini was practically non-existent in the back. He rubbed his hands in slow circles, only pausing his ministrations to wipe away the sweat that was beading on his brow.

He fought to stay level-headed, but in all honesty, Copia felt like he was going to pop a vein any second. Lucifer, he hoped he wouldn’t have another nosebleed; one was embarrassing enough.

Rob looked as though he was actually turning green with envy, watching with crossed arms and a scowl tugging at his features as the pathetic rat man worked his hands down to your shapely thighs, squeezing slightly before going back up to your voluptuous ass, your girlish sighs only seeming to encourage the man to continue fondling you. Rob clenched his jaw. Was the Cardinal abusing his position as a higher member of clergy to take advantage of you? Why else would you let such a disgusting little man touch you like this?

And just when Rob felt like he was going to snap, the timid man pulled his hands away, wringing them nervously in his lap before speaking up.

“Well, ehm… I-I think you’re all set there, Sorella…” Copia murmured once all the sunscreen was soaked into your skin.

“Mmm, thank you so much, Cardinal! That was a dream!” You sighed with a smile, turning over onto your back and stretching. “You give a great massage. I’ll have to return the favour sometime.” You grinned up at him wickedly before sitting upright, looking like some sort of Satanic pinup girl. “I know sitting at a desk doing paperwork for all those hours must not feel great on your back.” You pouted, ghosting your fingertips down the poor man’s spine and causing him to shiver and flinch, his gaze darting all around as he stammered out a bunch of random syllables in an attempt to respond to you.

“I- w- eh- th- ehm- I-I- eh, w-well, y-y-y-yes b-but, ehhh… heh heh, y-you don’t have to, eh-” He stuttered horribly, but you only giggled.

“I insist!” You chirped.

“Ya know, it’s not just sitting at a desk that’ll ruin your back. It’s also probably because he’s so old. Greying hair, wrinkles, sore back, etcetera. It all sorta goes together.” Rob chimed in casually, trying to disguise his jab as a helpful observation.

Copia’s shoulders slumped in self consciousness; he hated his age being pointed out to you. It seemed as though your friends had quite an impressive knack for sniffing out his biggest insecurities and waving them around right in front of you.

“Well, all the more reason to do it!” You didn’t miss a beat. “I guarantee you’ll feel like a million bucks after I’m done with you.” You grinned naughtily.

Before the pathetic man could respond, Ava spoke up. “Didn’t you bring the camera? Let’s take some pictures!” She beamed.

“Yup! Here you go!” Mable replied, fishing the Polaroid out of her bag.

The sisters took turns snapping pictures of each other and Rob, and soon you were in the middle of a little solo photo shoot, striking cute pinup poses in your teeny tiny bikini. For a few of the shots, you even used your bottle of cherry cola as a prop, the striped straw suggestively between your glossy, pouty lips.

“Papa’s gonna love these.” Lilith chuckled.

“You wouldn’t!” You gasped, moving into another innocent-yet-sexually-charged pose.

“I will! I’m gonna put them under his napkin at breakfast tomorrow and watch him spit out his coffee!” The girl responded, laughing.

“Lilith no! You’ll give poor Papa a heart attack like that!” Mable giggled.

Copia shyly sat to the side during all this, mindlessly poking his fingers into the warm sand, watching you through his lashes. He felt a pang of jealously stab through his heart at the thought of Terzo getting pictures of you. He tried to shake it off, but it was enough to make his lower lip quiver and his eyes well with hot tears that threatened to spill onto his flushed cheeks.

“Rat man! Can you take a group picture of us?” Emily waved the Cardinal over as you all got into position. Copia sniffled, blinking wetly before pulling himself to his feet and taking the camera. He focused on your gorgeous, smiling face as he looked into viewfinder, snapping the picture. Once it exited the slot, Copia pulled it out and waved it around so it could develop, but Rob plucked it out of his fingers before he could see it.

The Cardinal turned, dejectedly trudging back to his spot, but that’s when your sweet voice called out to him.

“Co-Co, come here! Take a picture with me!”

The man turned, gazing at you with those sorrowful puppy dog eyes. “M-me?” He asked pitifully.

“Yes you, silly. Come here.” You grinned, beckoning him closer with a come-hither motion.

Copia’s freckled cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red as he frantically smoothed his hair back, wanting to look his best.

“Do you want him in the group pict-”

“No, I want it to be just me and the Cardinal.” You cut Mable off with a smile.

“Ehm… Okie dokie..” Copia hesitantly shuffled over to you, his hands anxiously clasped in front of him, making him look even more like a pitiful little rat than usual. You rose to your feet, biting your lip coyly and grabbing the Cardinal’s lovehandles, pulling him closer until his hips were touching yours. The man released a trembling exhale as his cock pressed into you, his painted eyes glued to where your bodies were connected.

“Let’s do one like this.” You decided. Copia stiffly stood facing the camera, and you took his arm and placed it around your waist while you wrapped your arms around his middle, looking back at the camera with a coquettish smile. Yup, a shameless ass shot. But who could blame you when you looked that good? With the pretty ocean view in the background, Mable snapped the picture.

“Take another one!” You said, and with an additional bright flash, the auburn-haired sister captured an additional photograph.

You took the Polaroids from her, waving them around until they developed. You studied them closely, a grin spreading across your face.

“Do I… ehm- D-do I.. look okay?” Copia murmured nervously.

“You look very handsome, Cardinal.” You giggled, handing him one of the pictures. You loved the nervous, deer-in-the-headlights look that Copia had in the photos, his cheeks flushed bright red as he awkwardly stood there with his arm around you.

“T-thank you, Sorella, a-although I would beg to differ…” Copia shook his head, incredibly flustered at your compliment, his eyes widening considerably when his gaze scanned over the picture. With your ass towards the camera and your kittenish smirk, the Cardinal felt as though he was seeing something he shouldn’t. He tried to hand the Polaroid back to you, but you shook your head.

“One for each of us.” You told him.

The Cardinal looked at you with those big, eager puppy eyes and parted lips, a spark of excitement coursing through him. He followed you back to your beach towel, studying the precious Polaroid intently before tucking it away safely with his things. He would definitely be looking at it every night before he went to sleep and every morning before he pulled himself out of bed.

You sat down, watching as the other sisters carded through the pictures from your little photoshoot.

“Wow, these turned out fantastic!” Ava commented, with Rob leaning over her shoulder to get a closer look.

“Yeah, I’m sure Papa will appreciate them!” Lilith giggled wildly, reaching to grab as many as she could.

“No!” You laughed, scrambling to grab the rest of the Polaroids before she could get them.

Lilith smirked triumphantly as she tucked away half of the photos into her bag, causing you to roll your eyes. You looked over your copies before handing them to your dear Cardinal.

“Ehm- Wh-”

“You can keep them. They’re all just ones of me anyway.” You shrugged before turning back to your friends. “I’ll take one of the group pictures though, for my diary.”

“The one you write in with the pink glitter gel pen?” Mable teased.

You gasped at her spot-on guess. “Duh! What else would I ever use?” You giggled.

Copia’s expression was priceless as he flipped through the photographs, his feverish flush spreading to the tips of his ears and chest as he bit his lip, taking in your flirtatious expressions and seductive poses. Sweet Satan, he’d cherish these forever!

The Cardinal decided then that he would make it a nightly routine to raptly examine every detail of these pictures before he fell asleep. That way- he hoped- he’d dream of you. And perhaps he’d also… No, no, he couldn’t. Copia couldn’t possibly pleasure himself to your image. He couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of your kindness like that; he didn’t want to act like a depraved pervert. But lately at night Copia had been feeling so hot, so needy, utterly consumed with thoughts of you. He desperately sought some sort of satisfaction, sometimes even thrusting against his mattress while he muffled his whines with his pillow, tears pricking at his eyes while they rolled back in his head. He tried not to finish- although a few times he accidentally blew his load- because he didn’t want to tarnish your image by cumming to the thought of you. The poor man just needed a few thrusts to alleviate the throbbing ache in his hard cock, just enough to satiate him through the night. It always left him whimpering and febrile as he drifted off to sleep.

“What, don’t I get one? I’ll trade you!” Rob asked, gesturing to the photos you had just handed to Copia.

“If you wanna play Pokémon cards with my swimsuit pictures, you’re more than welcome to do so with the Cardinal. And Papa I guess, whenever Lilith gives him his stash.” You smirked, causing your other Sisters of Sin to laugh.

“Sorry Rob, but I doubt the Cardinal would ever give those pictures up. You’d probably have to pry them out of his cold, dead hands.” Emily remarked in amusement.

After realizing he had been intensely staring at your pictures for an inappropriate amount of time, Copia scrambled to deposit them in his wallet along with the one of you and him, careful not to bend or crease them in any way.

After a while, you stood up, your pouty lips quirking upwards into a kittenish smirk as you caught Copia staring at your buxom figure, practically drooling.

“Well, I think I’m gonna go for a dip in the water!” You announced. “Care to join?” You asked, your eyes catching Copia’s.

“S-Si…” He nodded, rising to his feet and trailing alongside you as you waded into the sparkling, viridescent water. It was refreshing yet still warmly inviting, lacking the usual cruel bite of chilliness that the seawater sometimes had.

“Oh, it’s wonderful!” You sighed, taking a deep breath and relaxing into the water. You stole a glance back at Copia, pleased to see that he was enjoying himself, a small smile having crept onto his countenance. After being so hot and bothered by you, the man gratefully welcomed the revitalizing sensation of the ocean.

You made your way into the water until you were about chest-deep, the two of you sharing a comfortable silence as you both swam around a little bit, dipping under the water and splashing around. You taught Copia how to do a somersault, giggling at his attempts and cheering for him when he finally got the hang of it.

You admired Copia as he slicked his wet hair back, the sultry summer weather making you feel frisky.

“Thank you for bringing us here, Cardinal.” You gazed at the man with your big doe eyes, drifting closer to him.

“It- ehm, i-it was nothing, Sorella… T-Thank you for having me.” Copia shook his head, nervously running a hand through his hair.

“Aah!” You suddenly yelped, jumping into the Cardinal’s arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

“W-what??” Copia asked you worriedly, his hands subconsciously finding your waist as he held you protectively.

“I felt something touch my leg!” You told him. You knew it was most likely a clump of seaweed, but being in your darling Cardinal’s arms made you feel safe and warm, among other things.

“W-well, don’t worry, Sorella, ehm, I’ve got you.” Copia reassured you, his deep blush quickly returning. You only tightened your legs around the man, stifling a pleasured gasp as you felt his stiff throbbing and twitching right against your clit.

“What if there are sharks?” You mused, brushing a stray lock of wet hair off the man’s forehead, noticing how the lines on his face began to deepen as he let out a strained exhale.

“I-I-I will p-protect you, Sorella.” He nodded, doing his best to dispel your fears while also trying so hard not to moan or grind against your core. With each flowing ocean wave, your body was pressed against him more, shifting back and forth deliciously. Your touch was enough to drive the man insane; he was hyper aware of all the places that your body was connected to his.

“You’re going to protect me… from a shark?” You smirked, raising an eyebrow, shaking your arms around his shoulders just a bit tighter.

“Well, I- Ehm-” The Cardinal suddenly felt silly.

“What if it takes a bite out of you?” You asked. “Like this?” You leaned in close, grazing your teeth against Copia’s neck, giving him a gentle nip.

“Ah-!” He whimpered, his arms encircling your waist even more tightly, drawing you impossibly closer. You met his eyes once more when you felt his big cock jump.

“Are you alright, Cardinal?” You giggled seductively. “Is everything copacetic?”

Copia nodded, dazed by you, intoxicated by your close proximity.

And you, well you had to admit that you weren’t in much better shape. You couldn’t help the excited little gasp that tumbled from your lips at the feeling of the Cardinal’s thick cock pressing into your hypersensitive clit.

“Poor Cardinal.” You tutted. “Here, you can get me back for biting you.” You grinned, moving your hair away from your neck and offering yourself to Copia.

He stiffened, then, staring at you with those wide, dumbstruck eyes. Unsure of what to do, he very slowly leaned in in in, his lips hesitantly ghosting against your soft skin. You felt him shiver as he breathed you in, your lips parting in a soft sigh when you felt his teeth cautiously make contact with your neck. He lingered there for a moment, but the feeling of his thin moustache against your sensitive flesh had you suddenly squirming.

“Your moustache is tickling me!” You let out a squealing giggle and he pulled away bashfully, unable to meet your gaze.

“What the fuck are they doing?” Rob asked, squinting as he tried to make out what you and Copia were getting up to.

“Ew. I literally have no idea.” Emily responded, equal parts disgusted and confused.

“Well come on, let’s get in the water! It’s so hot out here!” Ava chirped.

You pulled away from Copia once you spotted all your friends joining you, leaving the man craving your closeness once more, hungry for your touch.

“The water’s great, isn’t it?” You beamed before turning back to Copia, but before you could vocalize what you were going to say to him, you felt someone tugging the strings of your bikini top. Before you could reach for it, the small top sprung off you as it was pulled undone, landing somewhere in the water and leaving your breasts exposed. Your arms flew up to cover yourself, but Copia had already caught a glimpse.

He flinched, mouth hanging open, eyes wide as pies as another spurt of blood gushed from his nose.

You turned, casting a dirty glance at your perpetrator, which happened to be a hysterically laughing Rob.

“You scoundrel!” You tried to smack at him with the arm that wasn’t covering your tits, before you tried to locate your bikini top in the water. You frantically searched before a dazed, blushing, and bloody Copia nervously held up the small scrap of fabric, holding it out to you with shaking hands. You gratefully took it from him, your own eyes widening at the stream of scarlet oozing down his face for the second time today. The poor man’s mismatched eyes couldn’t help but remain trained on your barely-covered breasts as he gaped at you. And thank Satan the waist-deep water obscured his lower half, because his cock was now fully hard and would probably be embarrassingly noticeable.

“You rotten boy, you!” Mable scolded Rob as she rushed over to help you tie your top, while you moved to cup Copia’s face in your hands.

“Oh, Cardinal, are you alright??” You looked him over worriedly, wiping his blood away and splashing some seawater onto his face.

“I…… I-I-….” He stammered, seemingly paralyzed. Copia couldn’t seem to get the brief image of your bare breasts and pert, pink nipples out of his head.

Once Mable was finished securing your bikini, you moved a bit closer to the Cardinal, only to find yourself being poked by something big, thick, and hard.

You gasped and looked downward, heat pooling deep within you when you realized it was Copia’s impressive length that was poking at you.

You stepped forward, closing the gap between you, a coy smirk gracing your features at the way Copia bit his lip to stifle a moan, a shock of pleasure coursing through him as his cock fully pressed into you.

“Well, it seems like you enjoyed that eyeful, you perverted little rat.” You whispered into Copia’s ear, your hands snaking up to his freckled shoulders.

The man stiffened, his blood running cold as you acknowledged his obvious arousal.

“S-Sorella, p-please, I- M-Mi dispiace, Sorella, I didn’t- I-I didn’t mean to- I- P-P-Please forgive me.” The pitiful man quietly pleaded, the pretty lines on his face deepening significantly with guilt and shame, his eyes filled with doleful contrition.

“I forgive you.” You replied, your smouldering gaze burning into him, so close that the tips of your noses were just barely brushing together. “I won’t blame you for being a depraved virgin.” You bit your lip.

The Cardinal released a piteous whimper, his eyes fluttering closed momentarily. You felt his cock jump against you as he gasped out another quiet apology.

With a devilish little smirk, you regarded the man through your thick lashes.

Copia strained, every muscle in his body longing to rut himself against you until completion, but every voice in his head screaming at him not to do it. He one hundred percent; absolutely; in no way, shape, or form, could ever do anything like that to you. He couldn’t let you think he was a dirty old creep. But Satanas, you had such a profound effect on the man. Copia couldn’t take it anymore, not when you were gazing at him with those pretty fuck-me eyes, your delectable body pressed against his.

Oh, how your heart swelled for your poor Cardinal. You wanted him, you needed him, you wished you could have him right this instant. For a brief moment, you leaned a bit closer, craving Copia’s inexperienced lips once more.

The man’s eyes widened considerably. Were you going to- Could you be…? Kissing him?

But then your name was being shouted and just as you turned, a black and white beach ball was soaring through the air, headed straight towards you. It narrowly missed you, instead hitting the Cardinal in the head and bouncing off him to land in the water.

You were unable to stifle the giggle that erupted from your lips, and the Cardinal blushed shyly with an awkward smile, nervously running a hand through his damp hair. He loved making you smile that beautiful smile, even if he had to be made a fool to achieve it.

•𖤐•

You all stood in a circle and volleyed the ball around for a while, which Copia was actually surprisingly good at. You were terribly competitive, and you made a good team with your Cardinal. You even managed to spike the ball, causing Rob to miss a handful of times.

After you reached 13 points- your lucky number- you pulled Copia into a congratulatory hug.

“We won!” You squealed, giggling as he timidly wrapped his arms around you too, a little grin finding its way into his handsome features.

And after a while of frolicking around in the glimmering water some more, you decided to sunbathe again, beginning to swim to shore. Copia obsequiously trailed behind you, following you like a lost puppy because he was so eager to be near you. You ran to your towel, picking it up off the ground and wrapping it around both you and the Cardinal to dry off.

The man blushed as you drew him in close, allowing himself the pleasure of gazing at your splendorous beauty with needy eyes; his lips twitching, aching to be kissed. Ever since he got a taste of you at the sleepover, Copia had been fiercely desiderating you. Every moment without your lips on his felt dull; as if things weren’t as they should be.

“You look like a drowned rat.” You commented softly, reaching up to his pretty face and wiping away some wet streaks of black paint that were beginning to drip down Copia’s freckled cheeks.

The Cardinal sighed quietly, leaning into your gentle touch. “W-well, eh.. Y-You look just as beautiful wet as you do d-dry, Sorella.” He dared to say, nothing but earnestness in his mismatched eyes.

“You like me wet, Cardinal?” You asked coyly, batting your eyelashes at him.

Copia’s breath caught in his throat as he realized the double entendre. “N-No, I! I didn’t mean, I-I was t-trying to say-”

You giggled. “I know what you mean, Co-Co, I’m only teasing.” You smirked, placing the towel back onto the sand before laying down on it, allowing the hot sun to warm you.

“Oh.. Heh heh… Ehh, good one.” Copia sat beside you with a nervous chuckle.

Your friends joined you shortly after, catching some rays and talking amongst themselves.

That is, until Rob started impressing your sisters by doing pushups.

“Wow, you’re so strong!” Emily beamed, clasping her hands together excitedly.

“That’s nothing, ladies! Watch this!” Rob chuckled, beginning to do one-handed pushups.

“Oh my Satan, that’s incredible!” The other sisters squealed in unison, causing you to roll your eyes so hard you thought you might tear your optic nerves.

“Hey. You work out, Rat Man?” Rob asked, coming to stand in front of the two of you, not-so-subtly flexing his muscles.

“Ah, no, I… I, ehm… I don’t…” Copia responded self consciously, timidly shaking his head.

Rob looked the man over. “Well… you should. Might help you out with the ladies.” He shrugged. “Y’know, I do 666 pushups every morning for the glory of Satan.” He bragged, his chiseled chest puffed out like a proud peacock.

The inhibited Cardinal folded his arms over himself, his self esteem nosediving even more than it already had. He remained meek and quiet, unsure of what to say. Surely, he was no match for the boy. Copia felt silly for desiring you so madly when, in reality, you would probably fancy someone younger, better looking, and much more socially apt; like Rob.

But while Rob was boasting something about ‘pumping iron’ and how much girls like ‘swole guys’, you scooter closer to Copia, cupping a hand over his ear.

“Don’t let him bother you. He’s just jealous that I kissed you at the sleepover.” You whispered with a smirk.

Copia’s eyes widened and he turned to look at you, the tip of his pointy nose gently bumping into yours. “D-Davvero..?” He asked, his face reddening as you brought up the best moment of his life.

“Uh huh.” You whispered into his ear once more, pulling him close and hooking your other arm around his neck. “I know the girls told him all the juicy details. He’s probably so mad that you got to have something that he wants but can’t have. You know, I wouldn’t even kiss him if I was dared to.” You giggled quietly.

The poor Cardinal felt as through he’d faint. What was that supposed to mean? You would be willing to break the rules of truth or dare to get out of kissing Rob, yet you didn’t do that when you were dared to kiss him. Could that mean…? Copia inwardly scolded himself. No, no, it couldn’t possibly mean you wanted to kiss him. Surely, you just held more pity for him than you did for Rob. You probably figured that Rob had the potential for other prospects, whereas Copia was a loser who would never be kissed otherwise. It was an act of charity. Nothing more.

“S-Sorella you.. You don’t need to flatter me…” He murmured, looking at you through his lashes, and you only had the chance to grin at the man flirtatiously before you were being interrupted.

“What are you whispering about?” Rob asked once he realized you weren’t listening to him, crossing his arms.

“Oh, just something that happened at the sleepover.” You stated casually. “You wouldn’t understand because you weren’t there.” You articulated with a coy little smirk, causing Rob to let out an annoyed huff.

Copia stared at you in awe. Rob was actually envious of him? Surely, anyone would be envious of the person who got to kiss you, however, Copia wasn’t at all used to the thought of others being jealous of him. Even his high rank in the clergy never compelled a single soul to covet anything about him.

Rob sniffed indignantly, passively muttering something under his breath, trying to act casual and save face as he sat back down in his spot.

“Ew, are you actually having a conversation about your little spit-swapping sesh?” Emily scoffed.

“Yeah, maybe.” You shot back with a sly grin, thrilling Copia with your temerity.

“Giving him some tips, perhaps?” Lilith joked.

“Hmm, I could tutor him. He could be my little pet project.” You hummed, thoughtfully placing a finger to your chin. “I’ll make him the best kisser in the whole damn ministry.”

“Even better than Papa?” Ava giggled, egging you on.

“Yeah, even better than Papa. Don’t tell him I said that, though.” You giggled.

“And how do you expect to turn that,” Emily gestured to the pathetic Cardinal, “into the best kisser in the whole damn ministry?”

You shrugged. “I dunno, but I always heard practice makes perfect.”

You devil, you. Copia stared at you in shock, his breath catching in his throat, chest tightening, face going scarlet. Sweet Lucifer Morningstar, he was- Well, aside from extremely flustered, he was impressed. Copia often wondered where you got so much moxie at such a young age, because, despite being a fifty year old man, he would never have the nerve to be so bold. The Cardinal quite admired that dauntless, borderline reckless quality of yours. He only wished he could be so audacious, but his near-crippling introversion always prevented him; so instead he lived vicariously through you in such moments.

“I like your freckles.” You murmured endearingly. “It seems like there’s more of them now.” You remarked, looking over the smattering on his sun-reddened shoulders and the bridge of his nose.

“O-Oh, g-grazie, Sorella…” Copia’s eyes flicked down to his lap, bashfully wringing his hands together while his poor heart skipped a beat. But… More of them? Oh, for the love of Satan, he forgot to-

“Ah, shit!” Copia huffed out, urgently searching for the sunscreen. “I-I forgot to- to put this on…” He squirted some into his palm, smearing it onto his exposed skin.

“I-I don’t tan well… I just get red and, ehh, a lot more freckles… and I burn.” He explained, rubbing a healthy amount down his legs.

You caught yourself staring at his thighs and the… hefty package between them. Licking your flushed lips, you squirmed in your spot a bit, becoming painfully aware of the blisteringly hot, needy ache deep inside you. Sweet Satan, you were horny for this pitiful little man. As much as you flustered Copia, he somehow managed to have the same maddening effect on you, winding you up with indescribable lust; igniting a whorish spirit in you.

However, despite your flirtatious and sexually confident behaviour towards the Cardinal, you had only ever been with one man; someone in the ministry, someone much older than you. But… it wasn’t a Sibling of Sin. It was short lived, just enough to allow your sexual awakening to blossom, enough to allow you to realize the profound effect you had on others. It was just enough to prepare you for Copia, and now you were ready for him. You wanted him. You wanted to ravish each other in ways that would make Lucifer himself blush.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you composed yourself and calmed your heaving breasts, inching a bit closer to your Cardinal.

“Oh! Well, we can’t have you burning! Here, you helped me earlier, let me return the favour.” You offered, reaching over and smoothing some cream onto his shoulders, calming the fretful little rat with your enchanting touch. He sighed while you smoothed your hands down his arms before gently dabbing some onto his cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead, taking extra special care of his pretty face.

“There. You’re all set.” You smiled, placing a hand on Copia’s thigh, not missing the way he flinched at how your fingertips almost brushed against the spot where he needed you most.

“W- Eh- G-G-Grazie, Sorella…” He stammered nervously, looking slightly alarmed as he gazed into your eyes.

“No problem.” You murmured, keeping your naughty little hand there for a moment longer before pulling away and laying down to sunbathe.

•𖤐•

After a while of relaxation, you suddenly sat up, regarding Copia.

“Hey, do you know CPR?” You enquired.

“Oh, ehm, n-no I don’t.” The man shook his head.

“Want me to teach you?” You offered. “It’s an important thing to know in case of emergency.”

“O-Okay.” Copia nodded, seemingly impressed by your skill.

Smiling excitedly, you pushed the Cardinal down to lay on his back, kneeling beside him and leaning over to look into his anxious eyes.

“Alright, I’ve just pulled you out of the water. You’re unconscious.” You stated. “First I’ll listen to see if you’re breathing.” You leaned down further, waiting ten seconds.

“Am… Am I breathing, Sorella?” Copia whispered.

“No, you’re not.” You giggled. “So now I’ll start CPR.” You interlocked your fingers together with one hand on top of the other, beginning to mime chest compressions over Copia’s sternum.

“The compressions can’t be too high or too low, just right in between the nipples.” You said, noticing the way Copia’s eyes were fixated on your bouncing breasts. “And the ratio is thirty compressions to two breaths.”

Copia nodded, attempting to stay focused and retain the information. After counting thirty, you halted your movements and gently lifted the Cardinal’s chin, looking into his eyes.

His heart began to hammer wildly in his chest as you dipped down, slowly pressing your lips to his.

Copia gasped against your soft lips, and you stayed there for a moment before pulling away. “One.” You whispered, before placing the second kiss to his open mouth. “And two.” You pulled away, regarding the confounded man with a small smirk on your face.

“There. Did I revive you?” You asked dreamily. Before Copia could nod, you spoke again. “Or.. do you think you need another round?”

Were you saying what Copia thought you were saying? Were you asking if he wanted you to kiss him again?

“W-Well, ehm… P-Perhaps you can, eh, show me again?” The Cardinal warily agreed with you, thinking it too good to be true.

“If the victim remains unconscious, you’ll have to keep doing this until paramedics arrive with an ambulance.” You said, beginning the mock chest compressions again. And although your movements were quick, thirty went by slowly for the Cardinal while he tried not to leer at your breasts and eagerly awaited your lips.

Sure enough, right on cue, you were gently grasping Copia’s chin and dipping down again, your parted lips against his.

Copia sighed in ecstasy, tasting your fruit punch gloss as his painted eyes fluttered closed. And- was it just his imagination, or were these kisses longer than the last ones?

You pulled away for a brief moment before repeating the action, and Copia had to stop himself from wrapping his arms around you. These weren’t supposed to be actual kisses, and he was supposed to be unconscious anyway.

“Are you alive now?” You murmured against the man’s lips, pulling away just enough to look into his pretty mismatched eyes, which were now gazing up at you.

“I-I think so, but… I am not so sure…” He responded quietly. “Because, ehm, w-well, it seems as though I am looking at a b-beautiful fallen angel, si? Perhaps I died and went to paradiso infernale after all…” A shy smile crept onto his face, his blush deepening.

You grinned. Your little rat was getting daring.

“Are you flirting with me, Rat?” You questioned quizzically.

“Eh-! I-I am just telling the truth, Sorella.” Copia faltered, casting his gaze off to the side.

“Hm. You’re sweet.” You smiled, stroking a finger down the Cardinal’s cheek and under his chin, causing him to release a little sigh.

“What in Satan’s name are you even doing?” Emily interjected.

“Teaching Co-Co CPR. Duh?” You shrugged, sitting upright.

“Yeah, no shit, but last time I checked you don’t have to literally kiss while demonstrating it.” She countered, looking disgusted that your lips had actually touched Copia’s, voluntarily this time.

“Yeah, you never did that for me when you taught us how to do it.” Rob smirked. “Maybe I need a refresher, how do you do it again?”

“You literally just got a refresher right now. Don’t think I didn’t see you staring.” You shot back with a smirk of your own.

“Why does he even need to learn CPR? He’s never around anyone and I don’t think it works on rats.” Lilith chimed in, earning giggles from your other friends.

“Well what if something happened to you and no one was around? In case of emergency, he’d know how to do it.” You argued.

“I don’t know about Lilith, but I think I’d rather die than let him do mouth to mouth on me.” Emily scoffed. “So, Rat, if you ever see me passed out somewhere, just walk away.” She laughed.

You rolled your eyes, placing a gentle hand on Copia’s arm while he dejectedly stared down at his lap, averting his humiliated gaze from everyone. He didn’t want them to see the hurt in his eyes while they openly discussed their disgust towards him.

“It’s my turn. Are you gonna revive me?” You whispered close to his ear.

Copia met your eyes briefly and nodded, causing an excited grin to bloom on your pretty face. You laid down on your back, closing your eyes and appearing as insensate as possible. “Alright, I’m unconscious.”

“O-Oh! Ehm!” Copia exclaimed, leaning over you, unsure of what to do. “Ehhh….”

“You have to listen for my breathing first, remember?” You whispered, eyes fluttering open. Grabbing Copia by the collar of his swimsuit, you pushed his face directly into your tits, grinning when you heard a muffled gasp coming from your cleavage.

“Am I breathing?” You asked.

“No…?” Copia responded, his face still pressed against your breasts. Unholy Satanas, what a dream! His heart was pounding in his ears, cock throbbing as he melted into you.

You bit your lip to suppress a giggle when Emily muttered something about the whole situation looking like the beginning of a pornographic film.

“Okay, so you can start CPR now.” You instructed, releasing the man.

Coming up for air, Copia was dazed, his mind blissfully blank as he attempted to regain his composure. He could have kept his face buried in your perfect tits for eternity. And if he would have suffocated? Oh, what a way to go!

Clearing his throat, he interlocked his fingers together just as you had done, getting into position, and-

“That’s too low.” You interrupted, taking Copia’s hands placing them on your breasts, his fingertips brushing against your nipples through the thin fabric of your bikini top.

“S-Sorella, I-!” Copia gasped, eyes widened in alarm, and you slowly dragged his hands across your chest to meet in the middle.

“Right in between the nipples, remember?” You reminded the poor man, and he nodded quickly, biting his lip and lacing his fingers together over your sternum.

Oh, but how could he possibly concentrate when he felt so dirty? You were trying to teach him a valuable skill, and yet here he was being a little creep about it. He hoped you wouldn’t notice, and if you did, he desperately prayed you wouldn’t hold it against him. It wasn’t his fault he was so touch-starved, so deprived of anything close to affectionate all his life. And it also wasn’t his fault that you were so gorgeous. No man would stand a chance against your infernal beauty.

Straightening his arms, he began to nervously practice the chest compressions, counting quietly in Italian under his breath.

“You’re doing very good.” You commented, causing the Cardinal to falter slightly in his movements, his face turning bright red at your praise.

He grew more and more anxious as he approached thirty, knowing what would have to come next.

“Ventotto.. ventinove.. t-trenta.” He finished, staring at you almost fearfully once he was done.

You looked at Copia expectantly, but the man was frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“What, do you forget what you’re supposed to do next?” You questioned. “Were you paying attention while I was teaching you or were you just staring at my tits the whole time like a dirty old man?” You smirked.

Copia’s eyes widened, his lips twitching. He knew what he had to do next but… yes, he had, in fact, been ogling your breasts. Could you blame the poor man? The view had been simply breathtaking.

“I-I-I know w-what to do, eh-”

“Then do it.” You told him. “Come on Rat, resuscitate me, I can feel myself slipping away. I think I see Satan waiting for me at the fiery gates!” You giggled.

Copia sucked in a breath, leaning over you and tilting your chin up with a gentle yet shaking hand. He kept repeating to himself in his head that was just CPR. Nothing more. But his hot flush only worsened when you parted your delectable lips for him. The humid summer air was only made thicker with tension as you gazed up at the Cardinal with those pretty fuck-me eyes, waiting patiently for your salvation.

The pitiful man ever so slowly closed the gap between you both, your senses electrifying as his lips touched yours. You couldn’t escape the small hum of satisfaction, and Copia accidentally released a whimper.

Maybe you weren’t all that different from Terzo after all, because you were so incredibly tempted to snake your arms around the Cardinal and turn mouth-to-mouth into a passionately sinful tongue-kiss.

You had far better resolve than your Papa, however, so you remained still. After all, you loved teasing him like this; allowing him to almost kiss you, but not quite.

Copia pulled away for half a second before eagerly pressing his lips to yours once more, so needy for any sort of contact with you. And you, you were needy for this too. The way his thin moustache tickled your face, the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh smell of sea water, the way he was tilting your chin up so delicately, as if you’d break if he handled you too roughly. What a sweet little mouse; Copia touched you as if you were a priceless treasure.

Reluctantly, he pulled away for good when he heard your friends making comments about how he was a pervert. About how he was enjoying this way too much.

But as soon as he was back in his place, you made a show of sitting upright and falling happily into his arms.

“My hero! You saved me.” You sighed dreamily, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing a handsome lock of hair from his forehead.

Cupping his jaw in one hand, you pressed a rewarding kiss to his lips. Copia swore he heard the sound of a tea kettle whistling while stars painted his vision; his heart hammering in his chest, hearts in his eyes, and cock throbbing, nearly driving him to insanity. It was lucky that the kiss was brief, otherwise he would have started thumping his foot like an excited dog.

You grinned naughtily at him while he stared at you in giddy awe, huffing out a little chuckle and looking like the happiest man from here to Hell.

Your friends rolled their eyes at your theatrics, muttering things amongst themselves while Rob crossed his arms, trying not to look, but failing. They just couldn’t wrap their minds around the fact that the most popular girl in the ministry would ever waste time with a loser like Copia. They were still waiting for the other shoe to drop, holding onto their theories that you were planning to break his heart eventually.

•𖤐•

“Hey, Rattie?” You nudged Copia.

“S-Si, Sorella?” He looked over to you attentively.

“Do you see that little snack place over there?” You pointed to a cute little shack not too far away. The man glanced to where you were directing him, then turned back to you and nodded.

“Could you see it in your heart to get me a soft serve vanilla ice cream? Pretty please?” You pouted.

A handsome little smile found it’s way onto Copia’s face. “Of course, Sorella.”

“Satan bless you, Cardinal!” You beamed. “Here, I still have the ministry credit card that Sister Imperator gave me.” You said, fishing the rich black card out of your bag and handing it to him.

“Wait, you’re getting ice cream?? I want some too!” Ava whined, followed by the rest of the sisters agreeing, all shouting their orders at the same time.

“S-So, eh, let me get this straight, si? Vaniglia, eh, sorbetto all’arancia, fragola, ehh, cioccolato, menta, e nocciola?” Copia asked, pointing to each person when he listed off their order. Surprisingly, he got it all correct, and began to walk to the snack stand. You giggled to yourself, hearing him quietly chant the string of ice cream flavours over and over again so he wouldn’t forget.

•𖤐•

Copia returned after a while, carefully balancing two trays of ice cream cones in his hands, careful to not let them fall over. Rob, in a surprising act of charity, jumped up and helped the man distribute the cold treats to the other sisters.

The Cardinal was making sheep’s eyes at you while he handed you your cone, which you excitedly thanked him for.

He had gotten the same thing as you- vanilla soft serve- and he was just about to take his first lick, when Rob patted him roughly on the back, causing him to drop the entire thing into the sand.

“Thanks for the ice cream, Cardinal!” Rob said before sitting back down with your friends, not even noticing what he had done.

“Rob, you just made Co-Co drop his ice cream!” You scolded him.

“Huh?” Rob looked over. “Oh, sorry dude.”

“Eh, t-that’s okay, I go get another one, si?” The Cardinal nodded, turning just in time to see the ice cream man walking away after placing a sign on the bar that read ‘Gone for lunch.’

Sighing defeatedly, Copia sat down next to you.

“Share with me, Cardinal.” You offered, holding your cone out to him.

“No, no, I-”

“Oh, won’t you please, Cardinal? It’s so big and it’s already melting. I won’t be able to finish it in time anyway.” You insisted, already moving closer to him.

The man finally gave in with a timid nod, wrapping his hand around yours that was holding the cone, and swiping his tongue through the cold dessert.

You grinned, licking your side of the ice cream and enjoying the sweet taste.

However, your frozen treat was no match for the sweltering sun, and soon, melty white cream was dripping down your and Copia’s wrists. You made quick work to lick it off of yourself, only for more to trickle back down.

Stealing a glance at your Cardinal, you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of him. He had ice cream dripping down his lips and chin; and he tried to eat faster, but the poor man was being overwhelmed.

“Cardinal, you’re a mess.” You giggled softly, gently cupping his cheek with your hand, grabbing his attention. You moved closer to the blushing man, his mismatched eyes following the drops of ice cream that began to drip onto your breasts and cleavage, a few even falling onto your thighs. Copia swallowed hard, a wave of guilt washing over him as he imagined laving his tongue over your supple flesh, worshipping every inch of you.

You took him by surprise, then, leaning in and licking his lips, causing his widened eyes to snap up and meet your half-lidded ones.

“You’re a sticky mess.” You whispered against his lips, your naughty little tongue teasing at the corner of his mouth.

Copia’s lips parted in a quiet whimper, a pitiful gasp leaving him when you gave him another little lick. Lucifer, he was even more delicious than the ice cream.

“I, ehm… I-I don’t t-think you’re too much better, Sorella…” Copia replied nervously, struggling to meet your gaze.

“You’re right. I guess we’ll just have to lick each other clean.” Your sultry giggle made Copia’s cock twitch. With the ice cream you were holding now almost completely melted, it freely dripped onto the both of you. However, it still wasn’t quite as drippy as Copia’s throbbing cock.

Giving the ice cream one last lick- and accidentally drenching yourself in the process- you tossed the soggy cone into the sand and brought your little hand up, sucking your fingers clean one by one.

Your eyes never left Copia’s, and the man almost seemed hypnotized by the movement of your lips and tongue. You could practically read his mind; you just knew he was imagining you sucking his cock and finally giving him the release he so desperately craved, hungrily drinking down every last drop of his cum.

Biting your lip, you released another naughty giggle as you snaked an arm around the Cardinal’s neck, your parted lips ghosting along his jaw and chin under the guise of licking ice cream off him. He sighed, leaning into you, heady excitement bubbling inside him as your lips just barely touched his. It’s as if you were teasing him, taunting him, daring him to just let go of his inhibitions and kiss you. To kiss you how he really wants to; deeply and passionately and needily.

But the shy Cardinal restrained himself, not believing that’s what you truly wanted. He suspected that his perception of your playful behaviour was clouded by his own fantasies and yearnings. However, he still enjoyed your closeness, small sighs escaping him as his nose brushed against yours.

Copia wrapped an arm around your waist when he felt you tipping backwards, but you only pulled him with you as you laid back on your towel, and the man fell slightly on top of you, stuttering out timid little apologies while you grinned up at him adoringly. He was slotted right in between your legs, fitting together with you perfectly.

Running a finger through the melty cream on your breasts, you licked your fingers, snickering at the Cardinal’s pitifully concupiscent expression while you mercilessly teased him.

Copia blushed furiously. You were laughing at him, weren’t you? Laughing at the way he was so helplessly enthralled by you. Laughing at the way he huffed out quiet little whines every time his cock pulsed. And- oh, how embarrassing; he realized

you could probably feel his thick length throbbing against you, hot and hard and heavy with sheer need.

But his addiction to you mixed with the debilitating summer heat rendered him unable to move. He just laid there, staring down at you with blown out pupils and parted lips.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Copia closer closer closer, so close that your sticky lips were just barely brushing against his. Every nerve in the man’s body was alit with fiery anticipation, wondering if you were going to kiss him.

“Move. I’m gonna go for a swim to rinse all this ice cream off, if you wanna come.” You murmured.

Disappointed, Copia only swallowed nervously, blinking silently at you.

“Do you want to come, Cardinal? Hm? Do you want to cum?” You smiled innocently, but that naughty gleam in your eyes glinted dangerously.

“Y-yes please, Sorella.” He nodded eagerly, utterly entranced by the sight of you underneath him, your hair spread all around your head like a halo.

“Then get off me, you little creep. I can’t move otherwise.” You giggled softly and rolled your hips against him to snap him out of his trance, causing the poor Cardinal to flush an even deeper shade of red, a strangled moan catching in his throat.

“M-Mi dispiace…” He mumbled, scrambling to get off you. You stood, taking his hand in yours; a soothing balm to his humiliation.

“Where are you guys going?” Rob asked.

“We’re gonna go do 69 behind the snack bar.” You deadpanned, completely shocking everyone, including Copia, who- once again- nearly got whiplash from turning to look at you so quickly.

“We’re going for a swim, duh, what else would we be doing at the beach?” You scoffed, huffing out a light laugh. “We’re all sticky from that melty ice cream and we need to wash off.”

“Oh, thank Lucifer! I thought you were being serious about doing 69 for a second!” Ava laughed, causing the other sisters to titter in amusement. Copia sniffed, feeling sensitive; feeling despondent at how the thought of doing anything intimate with him was used in jest.

“Maybe I wasn’t joking.” You shrugged mindlessly, driving the lot of your friends mad with your arbitrary capriciousness. The Cardinal looked to you once more, a glimmer of hope in his mournful eyes; that little spark of hope soon growing into a roaring wildfire when you took his hand once more and firmly pulled him along in the direction of the snack shop.

“Oh come on!” You heard one of your friends call after you, but you only walked away with greater determination, tugging the dazed Cardinal along with you.

Copia nervously licked his lips once you arrived behind the small building, his anticipation becoming too much to handle as you leaned up against the cool brick, pulling him closer.

“You look scared, Rat. Don’t worry, I won’t deflower you.” You smirked kittenishly, toying with the collar of the man’s swimsuit.

“You.. Eh, y-you won’t..? T-then, ehm, w-why are we..? W-won’t your amici think…?” He questioned, trying to conceal his utter disappointment behind a veil of lighthearted curiosity.

You shrugged. “Let them think what they want. If they want to imagine us devouring each other in the throes of passion, they’re more than welcome to.” You giggled nonchalantly, strategically planting the maddening image in Copia’s mind, and you swore the man was stifling a needy whine.

You gazed at each other in comfortable silence, enjoying the alone time, away from the condemnatory stare of your friends. You could see the yearning in the Cardinal’s mismatched eyes, and you were longing for him too. You were just having way too much fun to do anything about it for now. After a few tension-ridden moments, you took Copia’s hand in yours, pulling him towards the water, looking back at him and flashing him with your pretty smile, causing butterflies to erupt in the man’s stomach.

“Come on, let’s go for a swim!”

•𖤐•

You sighed contentedly, the gentle waves rocking the two of you as you playfully splashed around. You could tell Copia was comfortable in this moment, because your friends were far enough away on the shore, unable to berate him or give him dirty looks.

You enjoyed seeing him like this; a relaxed smile on his handsome face, a healthy pink glow of bashful fondness painting his freckled cheeks every time your body brushed against his.

Suddenly, you spotted something in the crystal clear water, nestled into the ocean floor. You dipped underwater, snatching it up before the current fully buried it in the sand. Inspecting your find, you gasped in delight. How brilliant, a piece of sea glass! But this one was a marvellous cobalt blue in colour.

Reminded of how you’d given pieces of sea glass to the Papas, you waded over to Copia, excitedly presenting him with it.

The Cardinal glanced at the piece of glass, then at you. A gift?

“F-for me?” He asked.

You nodded. “I know it’s not your colour, but I think this is the prettiest one I’ve found so far.” You responded. “It reminds me of you.”

Copia blushed, graciously accepting your gift and taking his time to carefully admire it.

“It’s beautiful, Sorella. S-so I am not sure why it reminds you of me, heh heh..” He chuckled timidly. “I, eh, I quite like this colour actually.”

You smiled endearingly at how delicately Copia handled it.

“Maybe, ehm, maybe this will be my colour. Do you think it suits me?” A little grin tugged at his lips while holding the glass up to his face.

“I think it suits you very well, Cardinal.” You giggled.

“Well, now I feel bad, Sorella, I-I don’t have a gift for you.” The man nervously ran a hand through his damp hair, his painted eyes looking around, searching for something he could give you.

“Ah! Ehm, c-close your eyes please?” He asked, and you eagerly did as he told you, waiting patiently.

For a while, you could only hear the sounds of water, and you wondered what he could possibly be doing. And finally, you felt something wet splat on top of your head.

“No peeking, Sorella.” Copia hummed when he saw your eyelashes fluttering open for a moment.

Whatever he put on your head, he was arranging it around into some sort of-

“Apri i tuoi occhi ora.”

You opened your eyes, bringing your hands up to feel around your head. You smiled brightly, realizing Copia had given you a crown of seaweed.

“Ogni principessa merita una corona..” Copia shyly explained, wringing his hands together trepidatiously.

You fished around for more seaweed, gracefully crowning Copia with it once you’d found a clump.

The man looked at you, appearing slightly confused.

“Allora… Anche ogni principessa merita un principe.” You said, eyes twinkling playfully.

Copia’s love-stricken flush only deepened at your words, shaking his head softly and biting his lip in thought. “Non sono un principe, sono soltanto un ratto.” He smiled sadly.

“Mi piace ratti. Puoi essere il mio principe di ratti.” You giggled softly.

Copia smiled while looking down at the waist-deep water, fiddling with the piece of sea glass in his hands. His painted eyes flicked to yours momentarily, nothing but adoration in them. You truly knew how to make him feel like a prince.

•𖤐•

The two of you made your way back to shore, joining your friends who were clearly in the middle of some gossip, because they all stopped talking as you grew nearer, clearing their throats. Their lively tittering turned into a few hushed snickers while they judgementally looked at Copia.

“What, did you guys get married or something?” Emily questioned.

“No,” you shook your head in amusement, “we just… crowned each other prince and princess of the ocean, I guess.”

“You kissed a rat and he turned into a prince, huh?” Lilith chimed in.

“Something like that. Although I think he’s sort of the perfect hybrid of both.” You giggled, affectionately twirling a lock of Copia’s hair around your finger before laying down on your towel.

“What’s that?” Rob asked, pointing to the sea glass Copia was fidgeting with.

“Eh? Oh, ehm, f-from Sorella.” He responded, a hint of pride in his wavering voice.

“And she didn’t get me anything?” Rob pouted. “Give it here.” He held his hand out.

“No, it’s Co-Co’s!” You placed your hand over top of Copia’s. “I gave it to him because I want him to have it.”

“Yeah and you also wanted him to have those Polaroids of you. Even though he’s probably gonna be a major creep and jerk off to them every night like a lonely virgin. Better stock up on tissues, y’know, for all the nosebleeds he’ll have.” Rob retorted with a shrug.

Copia’s face grew red hot. He’d never! ….well, perhaps one should keep in mind Charles Dickens’ famous saying, ‘never say never.’ But he would genuinely try very very hard not to! Of course, he planned to admire the pictures more often than would be considered appropriate, but he had already previously decided that he wouldn’t befoul your sumptuous image with sordidly perverted activities.

“Is that jealousy I’m sensing, Rob? You’re still salty that Cardi got all those good shots of me and you didn’t get any? Don’t be so petulant.” You teased, your tone an enigmatic mix of lighthearted and snide.

“Of course I’m not jealous of him…” Rob grumbled under his breath, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair, blue eyes rolling in annoyance.

The Cardinal found great solace in you defending him; he knew you probably recognized the fact that he was often too timorous to stand up for himself, so he appreciated your support more than you’d ever know. Perhaps he should put in a request to make you his assistant…

Tucking the little cobalt treasure away with his things, he gave you a grateful smile, his heart fluttering when you gave him a playful wink.

•𖤐•

The sun was just beginning to smoulder low in the sky, its warm rays casting a pinky-orange glow over the whole beach. You’d all ended up going for one last swim before deciding to pack up and head back to the abbey. After wrapping yourself and Copia into your large towel and drying off, you and the other sisters made the boys face away and cover their eyes while you all peeled off your wet swimsuits and put your clothes back on.

“Oh, I didn’t bring any panties because I had my bathing suit on underneath earlier!” You remarked with a giggle. “I guess it doesn’t matter because we’ll be home soon and I’m going to shower straight away.”

Copia perked up at that, biting his lip at the thought of you in those tiny shorts with nothing underneath. Oh, what he’d give to

join you in the shower back at the ministry; kissing feverishly under the warm stream of water, bodies slippery and glistening with soap bubbles.

Once everyone was dressed, you all packed up your things, bringing them to Copia’s car before getting in yourselves. You sighed peacefully, resting your head on the Cardinal’s shoulder and nuzzling into the soft fabric of his hoodie.

“I’m gonna sleep sooo good tonight.” You murmured sleepily, earning sounds of agreement from your friends.

“Will you be okay to drive?” You asked, gazing up at Copia through your lashes, noticing his eyes appeared tired- and not just because of the dark paint he wore around them.

“Si, Sorella, I will be okay.” He reassured you with a nod, starting the car and taking off. With the radio playing low, the drive home was quiet, with you leaning comfortably against Copia on the bench seat of his car, periodically glancing up to admire him, grinning when you caught the man staring at your bare thighs.

•𖤐•

You arrived back at the abbey, carrying your bag inside and bidding your friends a good night, before climbing the large staircase that would lead to your room. Copia’s quarters were also up the stairs, so you slowed your steps, allowing for a precious moment alone with the man.

“Thanks for driving us today, I had a really good time.” You said softly.

“I-It was a pleasure, Sorella. We will have to do again, si?” The Cardinal responded.

“Maybe just us next time.” You mused out loud.

Copia’s eyes lit up with excitement in the low light, his heart beating fast. You wanted to spent time alone with him? He exhaled shakily at the thought, but you didn’t let him think too much about it before you spoke.

“Buonanotte, Principe.” You beamed before turning and walking towards your room, a smile spreading across your face when you heard the blushing man utter a soft, “Buonanotte, Principessa.”

Slinking into your room, you couldn’t wait to take a warm shower and crawl into your plush bed. The only thing that would be missing? A shy Cardinal to snuggle with, of course.

Oh, if only the ministry’s old heating system could fail!

𖤐 to be continued 𖤐

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