#i can imagine his sharp eyes on my soul god

[jamjaemin]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

BOYFRIEND!MINGI / NEEDY!FEM READER

⤏ Synopsis: After all those whines your boyfriend mingi agreed and went with you to the convenience store despite the late hour just to buy your fav popcorn and didn't expect the heavy rain ; after getting soaked —you ended up having a steamy sex in his car—

⤏ Warning(s): nsfw, car sex, size kink, swearing, unprotected sex (stay safe), creampie, hair pulling, degradation mixed with praises, a slight of daddy kink.

⤏A/N: I can't stop thinking about how big mingi is I mean look at him there's no way he doesn’t have a thing for being bigger like bfr, the urge to write this oh god.

Rain was pouring down on top of you without mercy, drenching the both of you.

Your boyfriend’s grip on your hand tightened, your intertwined fingers clinging onto each other as he pulled you forward. 

Neither of you was wearing a rain coat, you hadn’t brought an umbrella, you hadn’t been prepared.

Taking your final sprint the two of you reached the black car and you stared Mingi down as he searched for the second set of keys inside of his pocket.

Unlocked the doors and finally allowed you to shove into the dry passenger seat. You wheezed when the rain stopped ruffling on your shoulders as your boyfriend rushed to the seat next to you and closed the door in a hurry, shutting out the wind. 

For a second the two of you remained silent as you shivered against each other, trying to cling onto any spark of warmth you could find.

“Look at us.” Mingi muttered after a while, looking down on the both of you and noting that you both looked like drowned cats.

Your hair was dripping, sticking against your face in strings, a drop of water was rolling down your nose. Worry came over him when he felt you shaking beside him, afraid that you would get sick. So he start the engine to turn up the heating.

His breath hit on top of your cheeks as his eyes scanned your face, taking in the redness of your nose and the drips stuck in your lashes.

“I can turn you into a hot mess.” He muttered lowly and you didn’t need him prove that to you in order to know that he was right. 

"prove it.” you said with a clear lust in your eyes, especially when your gaze dropped to his wet shirt that is sticking to his toned chest and abs.

"Wait until we get home, you will pay for this" He said confidently and then started driving slowly due to the heavy rain but you were stubborn and couldn't handle one more minute.

"Please daddy I need you now" you whine softly acting like the brat you are when you don't get what you wanted.

“Fuck” he breathed sorely, almost too low for you to hear it.

You watched as Mingi’s fingers were digging further into the steering wheel, rubbing it strongly.

“I wish your hands were doing that to me right now” you whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe tenderly.

“Such a needy slut” Mingi whispered under his breath and made a turn to the left.

He pulled the car into the side of a random road, turning off the engine. You leaned back into your seat, as he turned his head to look at you.

His eyes were dark and craving, you always loved seeing. His thumb softly ran across your lips, as his gaze fell on you.

“i spoiled you so much didn't i?” he breathed, your heart hammer against your chest at his words.

Mingi’s eyes were burning on you; you figured he was mentally undressing you, right in this very moment.

You grabbed for his thumb and sucked on it roughly. It made Mingi close his eyes in pleasure, as he licked his own lips. Mingi leaned closer to you.

"Tell me, what do you want?." he said raising his eyebrow.

"Fuck me please." you whispered, breathing a little faster.

“In the backseat of my car?” he teased, letting his hands run down your body.

You pressed your hands further down the sticky leather seat, feelings mingi’s hands go on adventure down your body.

“Mingi, please” you begged him more. He smirked at you, biting his lips harshly.

He knew it. He knew what he was doing to you and he loved every second of it. Slowly his hands ran over your thigh, making every fibre in your body ache, before undoing your seatbelt.

“Get in the back”

“Really?” you asked, biting your lip.

He watched as your eyes grew bigger, which made him nod slowly at you.

Only a few seconds after, you crawled to the backseat, Your boyfriend followed straight behind.

He pressed your back against the leather seat, before planting a wet kiss on your lips. Greedily, you spread his lips and let your tongue enter his craving mouth. With each hand on the side of your head, he pushed himself further into the kiss.

You grabbed around Mingi’s back, digging your nails into his shirt, but surely he felt the touches you left behind anyways.

His hands ran down your body, embracing places that made you twist by his tender touches. Your back was sticking to the leather, as your body became warmer and steamier.

the windows in the car hazy, It's dark inside and outside the car, but not so much that you can't see each others, breathing mixed with the sound of falling rain and a lot of longing, need, desire...

“Be good for me, little girl” Mingi whispered into your lips, as his tongue continued down your neck, leaving a wet trail behind. His words made a warm feeling spread through your veins.

“promise I'll be good!” you breathed desperately.

Mingi’s eyes met yours and a smug painted itself on his lips.

His hands ran down your body, reaching your legs and gently, he unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them off you. Slowly, he spread your legs with his strong hands. Your body trembling under him.

He let a finger or two rub against your clit, which made you swirl your back in deep pleasure, pushing your hands so far down the seat, trying to control your movement.

Mingi’s fingers playing teasingly with you, made you wish he’d just pull of your fucking panties already.

“You’re so wet already, my little whore hmm? So small and perfect for me”.

“Mhm, Please” you begged frantically.

You couldn’t even open your eyes to look at him, it simply just felt too good, but you could imagine that smug written all over his face and shortly after, you heard a slight laugh escape Mingi’s lips.

Slowly, almost mocking you, his long fingers grabbed around the hem of the black panties and pulled them down to your ankles.

He wants to fuck you harder than he had ever before and that’s what exactly happend.

You swayed your back, hungrily meeting his thrust, screaming out his name loudly. A wide smirk grew on his whimpering lips, when he heard your sore voice.

“That’s right, slut. Say my name, let me hear those pretty noises.” he moaned against your bare neck.

Mingi’s body was burning, his black t-shirt thrown on the seat next to you and your hands grabbing on his shoulders.

His fingers intervened your damp hair, tugging it roughly. It hurt, but the way it hurt, made you worship the pain.

Your touches on Mingi’s bare skin forced him to close his eyes, before another growl leaked out of his mouth.

Mingi’s hips smashed against yours, allowing every inch of his thickness to fill you out.

“hmm, i feel it. Dont you dare look away, i will stop if you look away” he breathed sorely feeling your folds squeezing his his cock and you have no choice but to look up at him.

"C-cumming!" You moaned as u were close to exploding, but by the pleasure consuming Mingi, so was he.

"Cum with me, doll" He rasped as he pulled out, getting ready to smash himself into you again, you pushed your lower body up, meeting his move. It allowed the both of you to burst in a steamy moment of bliss.

Every twitch of your small body under him make him proud of what he did to you.

"Yeah, keep shaking keep fucking shaking."

[alastorss]

a/n: hihi @bri22222 !! tumblr for some reason ate your ask in my inbox but here is the cat demon!reader taking care of sick alastor request you sent <3 i hope you like it!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You had taken it upon yourself to become Alastor's own personal nurse when he got sick, despite his outspoken displeasure in being babied.

He was an Overlord, for god's sake, and one of the most feared at that. There was a certain irritation in him when you would show up to his room (which didn't even have a bed in it until he fell ill and you decided to push one in yourself, much to his dismay).

You'd sport all kinds of goods; warm jambalaya, his own mother's recipe, that he would deny even though he was itching to eat it. Some cough drops that tasted horribly of sickly sweet honey and lemon. Fresh boxes of tissues since he was going through them faster than you could imagine.

The worst of them all was when you would show up at the foot of his bed with little rodents, eyes wide and expectant for praise that would never come. Then you'd settle in his bed, curled up in his lap like you owned the place, and fall asleep.

While the warmth was nice, which he would never admit, and he liked the feeling of his hand smoothing down the hair between your set of drooping feline ears, he's not sure how much more of this he can take.

"You know," he starts one day when you sit at the edge of his bed, straightening out the duvet as you do. "I do wish you would stop fretting over me."

"You're sick," you deadpan. "And you took care of me when I was sick. At least let me return the favour."

He grimaces, remembering how miserable you looked when you caught a nasty flu a few months ago. Who knew cats were so pitiful when sick?

"Really, dear, it's fine! I was just helping a friend."

You frown, unconvinced. "And I'm just helping you back! Come on, you can barely go downstairs to get food by yourself."

"I'm perfectly fine!" He mutters between his grit teeth, smiling bordering on baring his fangs at you. Unfortunately, he doesn't do a very good job at intimidating you. Not after you've already seen his soft side of clinging to you like you're his personal heater.

Of course, his cursed demon body decides to betray him at that exact moment and he falls into a coughing fit, sputtering as he rakes in sharp breaths of air.

You're quick to climb over the bed to him, straddling his lap and forcing him to drink from his glass of water. He glares at you but drinks without refusal.

Alastor is the Radio Demon. Owner of souls. Entertainer extraordinaire. Yet here he is, taken down by a pathetic fever and being coddled by his favourite feline.

He carefully pinches your tail to get you to pull away from him, yelping in the process. "I'm fine," he hisses. "I don't need your help. I don't need to be taken care of!"

Your ears flatten against your head at his tone and you scramble off of his lap, cowering like a wounded animal.

For a moment he feels a flash of remorse, or whatever feeling has replaced what would be guilt in that black heart of his. He even considers opening his mouth to say something more reassuring. But then you scurry out of the room and slam the door behind you. His ears ring from the echo of it, then deathly silence follows.

Alastor reaches over to drink from his water glass on his own, only to realize it was knocked over in the commotion.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

He counts the days that pass, subconsciously or not, and feels his smile shrinking by each daylight.

Sure, he was quick to temper, but he had never lashed out at you before. It's an awful feeling that sinks into his stomach, making him dread what's to come when he fully recovers.

Worst of all, he was wrong. He does need your help.

It was peaceful at first and he enjoyed the silence that came without your company. However, he hadn't realized how accustomed he had grown to your ambient presence.

How had he never realized you were so loud when you made your entrances, or that you purred ever so slightly when he scratched just behind your ears? And was he really so weak that he was thinking of apologizing? He can't stand the idea that he may have frightened or hurt you.

It used to be so easy for him to sit with his own thoughts. Nowadays it's hard without getting to hear about your day or getting to fluster you with his incessant teasing.

He's cold, too. He would gladly let you fetch him a hundred rodents if it meant getting to hold onto you in his sick state.

On the fifth day, he decides he's had enough. The demon doesn't even bother knocking, instead opting to materialize from the shadows and jumpscare you from behind.

"I'm..." he seethes through his teeth, eyes thin and twitching.

You tilt your head at him curiously, prickled hairs flattening back down as confusion replaces your adrenaline. "You... what?"

"I'm sorry," he finally manages to get out, though it comes strained and awkward. Still, he swallows his pride and avoids your eyes while he continues. "I was wrong."

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds, intrigued by the sight of such a powerful Overlord trying to do something as uncharacteristic as apologize. In the end, you can't contain your laughter.

He glowers at you as you topple over in your bed in a fit of giggles, wiping away the tears in your eyes.

"Oh, you sap. Come here!" You sit up and open your arms wide, a big, cheeky (and smug) grin spreading across your face.

Grumbling, Alastor shuffles into your bed and collapses into you, effectively crushing you under him. You don't seem to care, arms tugging him closer and tail brushing over his body.

"You missed me that much?"

"One more word out of you and I am leaving."

"Aww, so that's a yes?"

The Radio Demon only sighs, heavy eyes drifting shut in your warmth.

"Don't get it twisted, dearest. I will not be thanking you for putting rats in my sheets every morning."

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria (send an ask to be added!)

[visionsofmagic]

watching them as they train. ⭒ mk1

—✦requsted by anon.∗ imagine watching liu kang, kenshi, bi han, kuai liang, and tomas working out. you can’t help but ogle them. their muscles straining visibly, they are panting, sweat is rolling off them, THEN feeling them up. how do the guys feel about this?

╰┈➤ tags: spicy, sfw, pet names, sweating, watching, flirting, tattoo, gn!reader, use of y/n, no specific use of gender, boyfriend dynamic, fluff, ‘s all I suppose. ✩ wc: 2.3k ✩ rose’s notes: offf, this one was so spicy to write and I like how I imagined this entirely while reading your request, lol, love ya & thanks for this hot request! hope you all will like, enjoy. [also, changed the aesthetic of requests post, hope this one is prettier. muah!]

✩ liu kang.

being the god of fire, protector of the earthrealm, and having a decent power in his system, he needs to train his muscles, physical strength, and power as well as he does with his mindset. watching him sitting down on the carpet, eyes closed, hands connected while being inside his mind to power it up as if he’s not the most powerful soul in the entire timeline is the thing you do as a habit now, so, it’s not surprising when you find yourself sitting on one of the benches on the training area as he trains alone – no one else, just you and him.

it’s different than watching his peaceful closed eyes, a little smirk on his face from time to time as he knows you’re there to take a sight of his meditation – because he gladly allows you to. it’s different even within the air – it’s too hot to handle and the wind doesn’t help at all because how he has no particular sleeve on his upper part, wearing just pants as he trains with his sharp movements.

muscles getting tighter, sweat running from his neck to his exposed chest, professionalism is as clear as the sun’s rays and you can’t stop thinking about how easily he will use his skillful hands on your body – he’s making you weak by only training and you know that he acknowledges his effects on you, making his training session sharper and more powerful than it is needed as he turns his back, arms move fast, making his back’s muscles go visible to your eyes.

mouth getting wet on its own, your eyes travel from his sweaty hair to his sharp jaw, arms with visible veins, white tattoos covering his arms and a part of his chest beautifully, sweat flowing from there until they reach his abdomen, making you gulp in excitement.

is it wrong to fantasize about a god? you can’t answer, and you don’t care about it either – well, at least, your instincts don’t care because without calculating its outcomes, your legs move on their own as you get up, slowly approaching him. with each step you can hear his deep breaths, and can see his sweats shine under the light of the sun.

he stops at his movements when he feels you near, chest rising up and down still. standing in front of him with warm breaths hitting his hot chest, you can’t help but touch his arms’ tattoos full of sweat – slowly enough to get a warning from his parted lips. “y/n –“

“yes, my lord?”

you can see his eyes narrowing, mind studying the situation and knowing that you will not stop, not after both of your hands happen to be on his chest, rubbing his muscles from time to time and earning another warning from him as he grips your wrists – fingers still playing with his arm muscles, getting wet, “you should stop, I need to train for one more hour, pretty.”

“train with me,” you say, putting a kiss on his exposed chest before turning over, knowing the god of fire, the man of determination, can’t resist your open invitation, and agreeing.

“you will be the death of me, my love,” he says, picking you up in bridal style as he goes to his room – to train with you of course, much hotter this time.

✩ kenshi.

to get back his sword from johnny, and be worthy of his clan once again, kenshi tries his best – so hard to accomplish his aims – he needs to be strong, he knows it, and the knowledge pushes him to train over and over again until he can beat everyone who crosses his way and avoiding him to reach his destination.

and there’s one more reason behind it – having you as his audience. his beloved lover who likes to watch him get a good view of his exposed body, half-naked, showing his muscles off even though he will deny it. he can have his orange training clothes to wear but in that way, he won’t be able to see your parted lips that you bite and lick occasionally, eyes shining as they travel on his body shamelessly, hands move rapidly because of not knowing where to put them because your mind is not working entirely when he winks at you whenever he changes the way he trains – legs, arms, back muscles – doesn’t matter as long as you get heat rushing on your body which he knows so well.

“liked what you see, love?” he will ask, smiling down at you when he takes a break, chest rising up and down as he stands on his foot, hovering over you, teasing because it’s so fun to play with your cute mind.

“u-huh,” you say, looking at his chest and waist covered with sweat rather than his eyes directed at you, “like it so much –“ you add, and to his surprise, you put your hands on his waist, pulling him closer to you as you sit on the bench still, and eyes turning up to find him, “are you doing it for me to like it?” you tease back as your hands move from his waist to his abdomen, feeling his six packs tighten under your fingertips. “cute.”

“not as cute as you, prettiest.”

then, he will make sure you put your hands on his body whenever he takes breaks until he is done with training and takes you into his room, admiring your body the way you do to his. after all, he is such a pleaser that he needs to return the favor.

✩ bi han.

for being the grandmaster of the lin kuei clan, the man who seeks great power, bi han trains a lot – he needs to, he has to.

he never gets exhausted by training with his potent stamina and determination to become the best – the strongest to bring great accomplishments to his clan. also, he never gets tired of having you beside him as he trains after he tells you to watch him closely to see what a true and good training session will look like – well, half truth half lie because it’s not the only reason why he keeps taking you into the area, having you sit down on the carpet, on your knees and watch him – it’s all because of you though, you were the first one who requested to do it and from the way you look at him, his body and mostly muscles with parted pretty lips, he can’t bring himself to train alone when he can your pretty face lighten up with desire of him as he does it.

knowing he does it on purpose, you sit down on the carpet calmly – as much as you can anyway, watching him having only his pants on, ice appearing on his hands until it reaches his elbows, the temperature getting colder but you don’t – it only gets warmer for you when your eyes travel on his torso, chest, shoulders, arms – full of muscles and sweat, getting tighter from time to time with the impact of his hard training. oh, you think, he truly deserves the title of grandmaster.

thighs clenching together, hands getting between your legs, eyes sparkling, and lips getting licked, you know bi han laughs menacingly inside his mind whenever he takes a look at your messy situation – he definitely does it on purpose, doesn’t he?

your question is answered when he cleans his sweat with a towel before sitting in front of you on his knees, hands positioned on his lap, raising an eyebrow he asks, “did you learn anything from my training, y/n?”

nodding, you challenge him by saying, “yeah, I learned how your muscles move so beautifully, sir.”

he chuckles deeply, and letting you do what you wanted to do before, taking you by the wrist, he puts your hand down on his shoulders, “now learn how they feel under your touch, doll. it’s what your hands carve after all.”

instead of saying anything, you use your hand movements as an answer – massaging his rigid muscles on the shoulders, moving from his chest from there until they find his abdomen, full of thick packs, showing his masculinity off so perfectly that you put a kiss on his exposed body, earning a low growl from the man.

“if you keep doing that, I will use your body as my training tool, princess.”

he sounds deep and hot – you’re being a brat. “then, do it.” and he does it in a way you can never imagine before experiencing it.

✩ kuai liang.

he doesn’t mind having your company when he finds alone time to train his abilities to make them reach the highest point; on the contrary, he finds it amusing how you even bring snacks with you as if his training session is a scene coming out of your favorite show – you admit it though, he’s your favorite show to watch because how it cannot be when he has sightworthy attractive and cute features, especially in the training area in which he has nothing on the half of his body – yes, you see it every day and night yet it’s far more different when it comes to seeing him training with his tools to strength himself up.

watching him jumping, crouching, using his knives with long ropes you happen to have on your wrist a night ago, your hand stop in mid-air, not being able to eat a snack because of how your mouth keeps getting wet – the hotness coming from him and hitting you on the face heavily isn’t related to his ability, no, it’s only coming thanks to being so damn attractive right now; all sweaty, breathing heavily and rapidly, movements perfect, gaze he gives to you breathtaking.

“what is it princess?” he will ask, a knowing smile on his face, taking a bottle of water to drink as he sits down beside you, radiating two different kinds of warmness to your body, “I am the one who trains and you seem to be the one with no steady breath.”

his teasing stops when you can’t help yourself and touch the scorpion tattoo on his thick and big arm, moving from there to his shoulder slowly. chuckling, you say as your hands travel on his wet chest and abdomen playfully, “who has no steady breath now handsome?”

“oh?” he holds your wrist, pulling you closer, hot breath hitting your neck when he puts a kiss on there, “when I am finished with the train, you even won’t be able to have a brain to remember how to breathe, pretty.”

✩ tomas.

“what now?” he will ask firstly, trying to find a few excuses to tell after you sit on the ground, smiling widely and telling him you want to watch him as he trains – because, ugh, he knows he will get all shy and missing a few steps, or doing his sessions incorrectly with the effects of having your piercing eyes on him, studying him, literally seeing every move and it makes him a bit nervous because being the cute little boyfriend, tomas wants to be as perfect as he can be in front of you – no one else’s, except his brothers.

his desire to impress you in every way, the situation as possible gives him a bit of sadness when he shows some weakness as he does exercises, you behind him, sitting and watching – oh, he sucks, isn’t he – he will think until the moment he realizes that you don’t watch him train – well, you do, but not with the way he excepts.

your eyes scanning his arm muscles, back, thighs, and hands as if he’s a piece of art with thick and sharp features he has – he can see how you bite your lip from time to time, smiling face is long gone, replaced by the expression of passion and tomas can’t decide which one makes him happier; to realize his not-so-perfect training isn’t understood by you or to witness your greedy gazes as you keep your eyes on him, clearly liking what you see.

being addicted to pleasing you, tomas smiles at himself and without hesitation, he takes his tight sleeveless top off of his body, showing his body underneath it – getting proud when you begin to lick your lips, thighs getting clenched with pure instincts.

even at his shiest moment, he teases you by standing between your legs, holding you by the chin, and making you look into his shining eyes with joy, “you’re quite an admirer, my love, aren’t you?” he asks, leaving you dumb for a moment before you come into your senses, smiling as your palms position on his exposed chest, playing.

it’s his turn to be dumb at the sudden action, “after what I am watching is the most beautiful sight in all realms, of course.” your hands are shameless as they flow on his top, admiring it as a true admirer.

“then let me put on a show only for you, my goddess.”

[reiderwriter]

Elevator Pitch

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 2k!!

Warnings: Smut, fingering, semi-public sex/ foreplay, praise kink-ish, some pet names completely ignored Spencer's germophobia to make this work 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: Getting trapped in an elevator is never fun, but at least the attractive you're sharing the metal box of death with has an interesting idea about how you can pass the time.

A/N: This is just a really quick drabble for @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute challenge for this month!! I have an idea for another one that I'll post closer to Halloween too, so look forward to that alongside all the kinktober fics 👀

Check out my masterlist here!

You weren't planning on running late on your very first day on your new team, but here you were. You were scheduled to meet Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner in his office at 9 a.m. sharp, and here you were at 8:57, trapped inside an elevator. At least you weren't alone, but alone with a stranger, and one who seemed to be talkative in the worst way wasn't exactly ideal either. 

"Hey, don't panic. There are about 6 elevator-related deaths per year and about 100,000 injuries. I'm pretty confident about those statistics." He said, taking a sip of his coffee as he stood calmly by the door, pressing buttons and waiting for something to happen. 

"Oh god, I'm gonna die in here." You whimpered a little bit, falling to your knees and screwing your eyes shut. 

"No, I said we're not gonna die. Or its at least very unlikely." 

"And I'm supposed to trust you?" 

"Yes, I'm very good with numbers. Elevator accidents account for 0.00024% of all elevators in service in the US. There you don't have to panic anymore." Almost punctuating his words, the elevator gave a low groan and fell an inch lower, pushing him off balance and toppling to the floor right next to you. 

"That was just unfortunate timing." He said, his breath hitting your face. Your eyes opened again finally, and you noticed that due to his topple, he was way closer than before, face merely inches from your own. Whoever this overconfident stranger was, he was attractive. Distractingly so, as you didn't respond to his sentence the entire time he was there in front of you, words suddenly escaping you as you stared into his dark, wide eyes. 

"Mechanical issues are the cause of about 15.3% of elevator incidents. Since we're in Quantico, we can probably rule out foul play, which means that they'll probably have us back up and running in around 27 minutes." Opening his mouth ruined the fantasy for a minute, waking you up to the reality of your situation. 

"Did you work an elevator case or something, why do you know so much about this?" You regretted the question as soon as you asked it, as he launched into another speech. 

"I read the statistical reports published by the CPSC and the OSHA. It’s really interesting stuff actually, there are-”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way but I need you to shut up. I don’t think I can take any more statistics about my inevitable death by elevator. Can we do something else instead?”

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know. Can you… Can you hold my hand?” You felt yourself flush red the second the words left your mouth, and suddenly it was your turn to talk too much. “My mom used to do it when I was scared as a kid, and obviously you’re not my mom, and you don’t even know me, but I thought it could help comfort both of us. Human contact and touch is supposedly comforting in times of distress so I just thought…” He cut you off by silently grabbing your hand and settling into a seated position beside you and you sent a little prayer up to god to spare both your soul and your heart. 

Because Jesus Christ it was beating hard now.

“Oxytocin,” he said and you looked up at him with a questioning look. “Oxytocin is released when you come into contact with other people, it’s the reason newborn babies benefit from skin-to-skin contact and why humans enjoy petting domestic animals so much. And the whole sex to destress thing.” He nodded and looked away, but you could have sworn the oxygen was completely sucked out of the room when he mentioned sex. 

“Sex?” He turned to you as you said the word, as if processing the conversation you were in the middle of it. 

“Yeah, never heard of it?” You rolled your eyes and squeezed his hand in your own for a second, but his body was leaning closer into yours now, his entire attention on you, as if he expected you to answer the question. 

“Of course I have.” 

“And what do you think? Can it help you de-stress?” 

Your mouth moves before you can stop it. “Can we stop talking about this please, I’m already scared, I don’t need to be scared and horny.” You close your eyes and groan as his widen again, and suddenly you’re praying again, but this time you wouldn’t really mind if you became one of those six elevator malfunction deaths. 

“I don’t know, maybe it would help you. There are some studies that show that stress can have aphrodisiacal impacts in women, you know?” His voice was light, but your entire body stiffened as you looked into his eyes, trying to gauge what this stranger was offering. 

“So what, you’re suggesting I just get more and more turned on until I’m not worried about death?” 

“No, I’m suggesting I close the gap between us and distract you for a while.” You spared a glance down to his lips then, his tongue darting out to lick them and pulling you in closer. You nodded quickly, a small movement and he pushed his lips down into yours. 

He was soft at first, and you almost felt like pulling away and scalding yourself for engaging in risky behavior during a near-death experience. But just as you moved to pull away, his hand came up to your hair and you melted right back into him, the kiss deepening as you slanted your neck up to give up more of yourself to him. 

You barely feel his hands pulling you into his lap, but you’re suddenly there and so happy you are. Your free hand wanders up to his chest as he squeezes your connected digits again, sending your heart into a fit of palpitations. In a panic you pull away, groaning a little as you can feel his not stiff member poking between your legs. 

“Sorry, I don’t think we exchanged names. I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N..” 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” His lips fall down to your neck as he whispers the words into your skin, and you let your head fall back as his hands untangle from you and fall to your hips, encouraging your movements as you begin grinding over him.

“And you said we had twenty-seven minutes before we’re free, right?” 

“Whose the one talking too much now?” He bit into your neck sharply then, and you moaned out, battling the urge to let him take you there on the elevator floor. From it’s perch on your hip, his hand slips down and pops the button in your pants, pushing inside and finally touching you through your panties.

“That’s it, good girl, just keep grinding down on me.” Unconsciously, you press your hips into his hands, the pressure leaving you letting out a whistful sigh of relief. 

“God,… Should we be doing this here?” Your words were unsure, but your movements weren’t as you pushed yourself into him again and again, desperate to feel more of him as he rubbed circles into your clit, driving you closer and closer to your peak. 

“Let’s assume for now that the elevator malfunction has wiped out the CCTV,” he says, lips pressing against your skin as you lose yourself in his touch again. “We absolutely should be doing this.” 

His words fell straight to your core, and you felt yourself grow more aroused as you pondered being caught in such an intimate position with a stranger.

“You think you can cum right here, baby? Think you can give me one soon?” His words almost sent you over the edge, his smile widening as your hips twitched over his. 

“Fuck, yes, yes, please, don’t stop.” 

“Not so scared about this elevator anymore are you? Or did you want to spend your last moments coming undone in my hands?” With his words, you lost the ability to speak, simply moaning out your agreement to his every word. 

“I think I can hear someone talking through the walls, baby, you’re going to have to cum now for me, can you do that?” You nodded to him as he increased his pace on your words, and within seconds, you were letting it all out, head falling against his shoulder as you twitched through your orgasm. He pulled his hands out of your pants quickly and pressed a kiss to your lips, pulling you up to a standing position and making you look presentable as the doors to the elevator were finally pried open from the other side. 

“Hey, how are you guys holding up in there?” The call came from the maintenance staff, and you were sudden;y thankful that he’d finished you off when he did because as horny as you’d been, actually getting caught like that was something entirely different than the fantasy of it. 

You’re almost sorry that you have to leave when you do, suddenly absolutely involved in helping him “destress” the same way he’d helped you out. But he removes his hands from you and strikes up a conversation with the maintenance staff working to get your elevator level with the floor doors. You gravitate to the back of the stall, gripping the railing while your brain catches up to the circumstances. 

In no time, the elevator is back in working order, and you and your stranger are stepping foot on steady ground again, and saying your goodbyes.  

“Aaron Hotchner’s office is through those doors. Up the stairs to the left.” He smiles and nods at you before turning down the corridor and leaving you there by yourself. A glance at your clock tells you you’re too late to question his words, and how he even knew where you were going. You take off down the hall, ready to profusely apologize to your new boss and pledge to take the stairs for the rest of your days. 

When Hotch finally greets you, he has already heard about the elevator malfunction, and all is thankfully forgiven. You have to bite your tongue before asking if everyone on this floor is psychic. But you’re still late, and you have a case, so your introductions have to take place in the briefing room and you half-run, half-walk behind the older man as he makes his way down the hall. 

“Everyone we have a new team member today, please help her out for this first one and show her the ropes.” He introduces you by name, and you’re suddenly doing your best to memorize the names of a Prentiss, a Rossi, a Morgan, a JJ, and one Penelope Garcia. They seem to be waiting for someone else, but with the clock ticking, Penelope begins debriefing you on the next case.  

“Sorry I’m late,” a voice calls from the door, and you feel the hairs on your neck stand up in shock as everyone slowly turns to greet the newcomer. 

“What time do you call this?” Morgan laughs as the familiar man approaches, and a quick glance around tells you that the only seat left at the table, which had been so obviously reserved by the pile of paper files in contrast to everyone else's digital alternatives, was right next to you. 

“Spencer, we have a new team member, this is Y/N. She’ll be joining us on cases from today onwards.” Hotch quickly says, and you lock eyes with the man just as he falls into his seat. 

“I think we’re acquainted. Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Spencer Reid.” The room falls silent as he holds out his hand for you to shake, and you do your best to not show your shock and embarrassment on your face. You let your hand fall into his, the same one that you’d held earlier, the same one that had worked you up to the edge and then helped you pour over it, the same one that had pulled you together afterward. You said nothing after you’d finally pulled apart, waiting for him to make the next move once again. 

“I look forward to working with you.” 

[aspiring-house-husband]

“forgive me, father, for i have sinned…”

I relish in breaking priests. 

“I have been lustful.”

contrary to popular belief, a demon has no difficulty stepping foot in church. surrounding myself with all of that holiness, it only heightens my hunger. i keep my face looking human and my clothes modest and i remember what i’m here for. a priest… you, the gorgeous and beautiful priest with a body to make me drool. a body that deserves so much more than to be locked behind the church. 

“tell me more, child.”

you’re young, for a priest. young and pretty and lovely. i want nothing more than to have you as mine, but i have been patient. i have visited you in the past, devout and mournful of my sin. supposedly. 

“I have pictured you, father. in my nights alone, i have pictured you on my bed, devoid of clothes. i have imagined your supple flesh quivering with pleasure from my touch.”

you do not respond but with a sharp intake of breath. my lips reveal sharp teeth as i smile, a scent of shock and arousal slipping through the slatted holes separating us. 

“i have imagined your soft thighs opening for me as you plea for my touch. you beg vulgar things of me, father. you beg for me to touch you and breach you and spear you onto me.”

“i- i see.”

“i have seen it in my dreams, father. you ask me to break you open on my cock and keep going even if you cry. you beg me to take you, body and soul. to make your hole and so your entire body feel as though holy, bewitched by god’s light.”

“interesting…” you sound breathless. you smell desperate. 

“you promise me that you will save me from my sin, and that you can only do so by letting me release it within you, as you, holy father, can handle it. that you will cleanse me with your touch and your hole.”

“they say…” you say, and it comes out as a whimper. “they say that dreams are sent by god.”

“as guidance, father?” 

“indeed. That god offers us answers and communicates with us through our dreams, should we only listen.”

“how must i repent, father?”

you try to hide it, but i hear the soft thump as you rest your temple against the wall between us. so too can i hear your thighs rubbing together for the slightest relief, and your hand making way of your clothes to reach your own heat. 

“if god has so graciously shown us his path, we must take it,” you answer, and i can hear your robes shuffling as you dig your hand down further between your legs. “but you must finish confession, first.”

“only after you beg of me, in my dreams, do i take you viciously,” i answer, listening to the sweet sounds of your wetness as you shove fingers as deep into yourself as you can reach. “i satisfy you with my cock and you cry out at how it feels. i thrust into you with enough force to bounce your voice and force you to cum around me and again until you shed tears of ecstasy, father, and told me that i was cleansed with the holy light of god’s love within your body.” your breathing and the scent of your arousal both spike as you near your own orgasm, every word of mine and every thrust of your fingers bringing it closer until you tremble and shake through it. i see the shadow of you leaning back into your seat as you listen. “and i felt the euphoria, father, of the holy light that i spilled into you. i was cured of my sin, father. surely my lust was balanced by my connection to the spirit.”

“in the dream, it was,” you answer, breathless and smiling, “but you have not repented from your waking lust. i shall save you, as such i did in your dream.”

“i’m so glad,” i say, my teeth sharp and claws sharp as i tear aside the wood between us, revealing to you my muscular frame, my slitted eyes, my wicked horns, my predatory smile. “for I shall make my dream real.”

it takes me only a moment to lift you from your seat and strip you, demonic magic only helping in pulling your robes from your body, before i spear you deep onto my cock, your hole loose and wet with orgasm. 

“cleanse me, father,” i growl, forked tongue circling your ear before my lips latch to your neck, working your blood to the surface. “free me of this sin and i shall worship you as i worship our lord.” 

you grip onto my shoulder with one hand and my horn with another, locking your ankles behind me, dropping your head back and moaning like the best succubi i’ve seen. your hips buck lewdly and your hole grips around me with the tightness and heat of hell itself. your spend drips from you and joins my precum, smearing both your thighs and mine before painting the floor. 

i cushion your head from slamming into the wood, feeling it as your so-called holiness slips from you. i drink it up from your veins as it escapes my demonic power, which i pour into you with every kiss and caress and thrust, which you accept with every cant of your hips, every tight grip onto my body, every moan to be heard throughout the cathedral. 

you flutter and clench and ripple around me with your second orgasm, body going taught and earthquaking in my arms. i can’t help but sink my teeth into your perfectly pleasured frame, my magic following my fangs and pouring ever further into your body. it has you trembling even more, whimpering in prolonged pleasure the likes of which you’ve never experienced, shaking and tensing and ignorant to how your holy light shatters and focuses into tying you to hell, where a tempting sinner belongs. 

i can only withstand so much of your perfect sloppy hole before i cum into you, spilling into you with unholy light and darkness. i watch the glow of it fill you, and watch as your orgasm drags ever on, even to where your eyes roll back in your skull and you go limp in my arms, still trembling through the pleasure in your sleep. 

this means that, lovingly, i can watch as my glowing demonic magic reshapes within you, to a binding mark so beautifully painted between your hipbones. i watch it climb your veins to your hairline, where it spouts nubby horns from your perfect hair. finally, it bleeds down to your face, and when you open your eyes, they resemble a snake’s. 

“you are cleansed,” i whisper, reverently, kissing you softly. “an angel all for me.” 

“angel,” you breathe in response, tremoring still around my cock within you. “an angel you are, sent to rescue me.”

“to raise you to the unholy light you deserve. to rapture you to your higher purpose.” i kiss you as i speak, all over your chest and neck, with worship and adoration on my lips. 

“higher purpose,” you simper, clenching yourself around me again. “take me to this higher purpose. show it to me. fill me with it.”

“as you wish, my angel,” i tell you, invading your mouth with long tongue and loving kiss, and fucking you anew. 

[morgana-ren]

Astarion going a little batshit and embracing his yandere side is all I've ever wanted. Especially if youre his spawn because you are truely fucked. I think the first time he makes you do something, he does feel a little guilt, but it's gone quick enough.

The first time it happens, it isn't even intentional. It happens automatically— like some dormant power suddenly awakened in his blood. There is no magic, cursing, or even intention behind it. Only an effortless aura of command that your body bends to, yielding to him as second nature.

There's an argument. Over what, it doesn't quite matter-- something senseless and a long time coming. It ends with you storming off, trying to walk away before things escalate and things turn ugly between you. Abandoning the conversation before he's managed to say his piece.

Needless to say, he does not abide this.

He demands you to return, and you do not. You keep stalking off towards the entryway, utterly ignoring his protestation. Back turned, marching off, indignant and furious, clearly indifferent to his words—

And you do not ignore your Lord.

"Stop right there!"

Your limbs stiffen as if your flesh has suddenly hardened into stone, and fear spurs icy tendrils through your brain as you realize you are locked in place.

You cannot move. Even as you bid your bones, they do not heed your command. Your muscles are rusted iron, and your will cannot bend them. Your body is not your own any longer. It belongs to him, awaiting orders with bated breath.

He realizes what he's done as he senses your fury. You cannot move, even desperately try. You are wholly under his thrall, body and soul. He recalls the horror of his first time losing his autonomy to Cazador with staggering detail. The misery. The betrayal. The terror of it all, a prisoner trapped within your own mind, utterly helpless against the dark, primal magics stirring within you that highjack control of your form.

You have brought it on yourself. Had you just been as obedient as you are pretty—

"Now come back," snaps his fingers, blinking slowly with an unreadable expression and watching with interest as your legs move of their own volition towards the spot he now points at directly before him.

He can see you fighting it. See you strain and thrash against your very mind, wailing to be set free from this ancient trick of nature he's wielding against you. He remembers miserable nights of it-- centuries of it-- begging for freedom or a miracle from the forsaken Gods or even the sweet, saccharine release of death. He imagines your expression looks exactly as his did when he first discovered the intangible chains: a portrait of true, unbridled horror.

Something within him stirs and there's a small crook ticking his lips upward. Only slightly, but still visible.

You approach him once more, and he can feel your rage. Oh, how you long to strike him down.

As if you could.

"There's a good girl," The taunting lilt to his voice is unmistakable, cruel in his mockery. "See? Was that so hard?"

Your lip curls, so ready to spit venom right back at him.

"Ah, ah! Hush now, darling. Wouldn't want to say something we'd regret, now would we?"

Your words stopper in your throat, forcibly swallowed back into the flaming pit of rage that burns in your gut. You can taste the vitriol on your tongue, but you can do nothing other than choke on it.

"You don't want to fight, little love. Do you? Of course not. We can let bygones be bygones--"

A sharp glint in his scarlet eyes that sets your teeth on edge. You've seen it before, but he hasn't turned it on you before-- not until now.

"--If you beg my forgiveness."

If you were expecting him to return your autonomy, you are sorely mistaken. Anything that forms behind your teeth is immediately forced down. He has not relinquished control, and it's now that you realize he doesn't intend to. Not until he's satisfied. This is a punishment-- an object lesson to remind you of your place and the power he wields over you, even as he claims to love you.

The only words allowed to pass your lips are those he wants to hear, and you can feel them crawling up against your will, a spidery reflex he has total control of.

And yet, even as you go to speak, he stops you once more.

"I'll need to know you're truly sorry, of course. Go ahead and kneel, darling. A little show of supplication."

You drop to your knees so suddenly that marble bruises bone, drawn down as if weighed by a thousand stones. In his magnanimous glory, you are still allowed to look up at him, bleary vision clouded with freshly forming tears at this heinous betrayal.

"I'm so sorry, Master. I'll obey. It's not my place to question you. I'll never walk away from you again."

The words are not your own, and yet, you cannot bite them back. They slip the confines of your lips, spoken into truth by his will. That is what he wants to hear, so that is what your voice speaks even as you scratch and tear at the walls of your brain to rend them apart in your fruitless battle with primal servitude.

"I forgive you, dear one."

Your head lolls against his thigh, and he reaches a clawed hand down to card through your hair, petting your head softly like you are a dog begging attention from its master. Your neck strains to pull away, but you are drawn to him as a magnet.

"Silly, foolish girl. It's as if you forget your place is here," He tips your chin upward with a long, slender finger, looking down on you from above. "But that's alright. I have as long as I need to remind you."

Roiling hate flows from your body in waves, indignant and painful in its power. And yet, it is hapless against his tide of control. Eclipsed entirely under by his shadow.

"Now tell me you love me."

You fight with all your considerable strength, but again, the sentiment is choked out between ragged exhales and a soft sob.

"I love you. I'll never leave you."

He smiles down at you, all fang and ferocity, fingers weaving into your hair and tugging just hard enough to elicit a gasp from you.

"You're right. You won't."

He laughs derisively, grin growing wider as he pats your hair.

"I love you so, darling girl, even as you test me. Now, how about we put all of this nasty business behind us and move along to making it up to me, hmm?"

[teamatsumu]

I read the alpha sukuna stuff and the apex alpha ushijima headcanon you posted so let me say this: apex alpha sukuna

Oh my god, you’re so right. Just imagine he says some shit like-

“They don’t make ‘em like me anymore.”

You roll your eyes because oh my god, of course he says something corny like that. But you know there is truth behind his words. Apex Alphas were an extinct breed. They had not existed for many centuries, and Sukuna happened to be centuries old. So he was, by all means, the last living Apex Alpha. They truly didn’t make them like him anymore.

And it showed. Despite inhabiting the body of a regular Alpha, Sukuna’s presence was unmistakable. He had an aura about him, despite being absent most of the time (since Yuuji was the one actually in control), but being around Yuuji meant your nerves would constantly be shot. Somehow, the Omega in you knew Sukuna was there. His scent often overpowered Yuuji’s. To the point that despite Yuuji talking and laughing next to you, your body temperature would be off as hell, and you knew you were reacting to the thing inside him.

The real kick in the gut was that the bastard knew. He knew the effect he had on you. And you knew he was going to goad you with that knowledge when a mouth appeared on Yuuji’s cheek, sharp teeth and huge grin, talking about how a ‘sweet little omega’ like you needed a mighty strong Alpha, and not the pussies that existed in today’s day and age. Yuuji would sigh tiredly and slap a hand on it, apologizing for how rude and vulgar Sukuna was. But there was something about the way he spoke that almost turned you on. Like he truly wanted you.

You find yourself lying down late at night and wondering what it would be like to have an Apex Alpha take care of you. It had to be a wildly different experience, considering just how much Sukuna differed from Yuuji. The thought alone makes your body hot, makes you sweat, having nothing but big, pure Alpha on you, fucking the soul out of you and then knotting you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

So can you really be blamed when you cry out for him during your next heat? And can you really be blamed when it turns out that the cry of an Omega is exactly what Sukuna needs to take control of Yuuji’s body and give you exactly what you want?

[eee-lordy]

can i request a saltburn fic with felix and ollie both fighting over the reader? like maybe felix asks them both over for the summer and there is a lot of tension between the three of them if you catch my drift??? as steamy as you'd like!

!!! nsfw minors dni !!!

warnings: fem!reader, full on threesome, unprotected sex, absolute filth

───※ ·❆· ※───

In the case of Oliver and Felix, the three of you became fast friends. Yours was a strange little trio, three personalities that would likely clash if you hadn't met during the right circumstances, last semester.

It all happened one night after a party in some frat. You'd been abandoned by your friend, for a boy, and bummed into Felix on the balcony in search of a smoke. He gave up a cigarette for you, lit it, and spent as long as it took to smoke chatting away.

You'd seen him around campus, leading his clique around, offering outsiders royal waves. You'd never imagined you'd have a reason to speak to the guy. Or that you'd enjoy Felix's conversation as much as you had.

The next night, you'd met Oliver at the pub. You were ordering a rum and opening your wallet for a couple bucks. But this guy with piercing blue eyes had already been slipping the barkeep a pair of tens and told you yours was covered, not to worry.

"Oliver?" Felix came into view laughing about how he'd just met you and it seemed like the fates were binding you all together. You laughed at how ridiculous it sounded. But weren't turned off by the idea of the three of you being destined to occupy the same space together. You'd seen Oliver around campus too, always intrigued by the look in his sharp eyes and the demeanor he possessed.

Felix urged the three of you to claim a hightop table at the pub that night. And that's where you stayed, sharing drinks and laughs and trying not to read too much into the way either of the boys kept brushing their knuckles against your arm and their knees against your legs. You simply thanked God for the company and ate up the way each boy kept looking at you. Like you'd had been and were only ever going to be the only woman in the world.

Then it happened again the next weekend. You drank and laughed and soaked up every little glance, and each time one of the boys brushed your knee with theirs. And then again the weekend after that. You talked and talked about shit you'd never brought up with anyone else and listened as they did too.

You crashed in Oliver's dorm that night, too drunk to move further than he could assist you. He let you take up too much space in his bed. You woke up to find him propped against the wall, asleep, his hand gently splayed across your upper thigh.

Then Oliver asked you both to a party. He guided you through the crowded dorm with his hand at the base of your spine. You felt a chill when you turned around to meet Oliver's gaze, as his bore into your very soul. Felix dragged either of you around the rest of the evening, introducing you to people he felt worth knowing.

The three of you spent almost every weekend together at the pub or parties or Felix's dorm room. When a change of pace presented itself in the form of three concert tickets, won on the radio by yours truly, you knew just the two to ask along.

At the show, Felix kept his fingers creeping around the bend of your waist, pulling you closer in the crowd. He would lean in to talk in your ear, loud enough to be heard over the music. Close enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Felix took you and Ollie back. As you all shared how amazing the night was, you found yourself getting weirdly emotional about how special it was to hear that music live with these two who had come to matter so much to you. Oliver leaned closer from the back seat to assure that you mattered just as much to them too, his voice low and sweet in your ear. Felix let his left hand leave the steering wheel to find your thigh, running his fingers in soothing circles to assure he'd had just as meaningful a time.

You got dropped off first. But you desperately wanted to stay planted in that passenger seat. You didn't want to leave the way Felix kept tracing patterns against your bare leg. You didn't want to stop hearing Oliver's voice in your ear.

But you were dog tired. So you slinked out and waved goodbye and watched the boys fixate their stares on you as they wished you sweet dreams.

The next weekend, Felix asked you each to his home for the summer.

///

You and Oliver paced behind Felix, keeping up as he marched you through this castle he called home.

"This is the spare. Well, there is more than one, but I figured you could both sleep here, as I'm right on the other side of the loo. The other spare rooms are two floors away. Wouldn't want one of yous to feel left out now would I?" Felix explained, walking you into the bedroom with a giant wardrobe, one California King.

"You want us both to stay in here?" You clarified, not able to ignore the fact there was only one bed. You wouldn't have minded so much but... what if Oliver did?

"Well, like I said, I only figured. Your choices are here. The spare room two floors away. Or there's my bed." Felix responded, catching both your attention and Oliver's in a moment of tension that hung heavy in the air. Then there was a knock. It was apparently and thankfully time for dinner.

///

Felix got cleaned up first. He disappeared to the bath, leaving you and Oliver to shuffle a stack of cards in his room. The pair of you took the opportunity to marvel over Felix's home and lifestyle. To dare each other to snoop through his things. To share a laugh and pour a drink and chug them so fast you downed three more by the time Felix returned.

When the statuesque man stepped out of the steam filled loo, the sight of his damp hair and bare chest almost made you blush. But you ceased from oggling him too long, rushing to stand and take your turn in the bath.

You tried not to think too hard about how entranced you'd been by Felix just before. You tried not to wish too hard that he might open the door to the room you sat washing up in now. You tried not to dream of Oliver impatient for his own turn, come storming in to occupy the same water as you. You turned off your mind, hurrying to dry off and slip into your pj's. A giant shirt that you decided had counted as a night gown.

Then, you headed out of the door that led to Felix's room. Oliver and he sat there playing the same game of cards and sharing a smoke.

"Your turn, Ollie." You announced, not missing the way his eyes racked up your figure as you walked closer to the pair. Oliver mumbled something of agreement, moving to take his turn cleaning up.

Felix thanked you for his fresh beverage and beat you in the next round of cards. Frustrated, you challenged him to another, to competitive to leave it at that.

Felix waved you over to play his turn. You told him to wait as you got up to mix more drinks. Apparently Felix had already caught up to being as tipsy as the rest of you. And there were no classes to worry about the next day. So you saw no harm in getting smashed as possible.

Oliver wasn't long away, stepping into the room to continue the game. But it had only been for two, until now.

"We can be a team Ollie," You waved him over, figuring since you'd played his last hand, it made sense.

"Not fair. But I like the challenge." Felix grinned. Oliver shrugged and insisted you get up from the chair you occupied, swiftly guiding you to sit on his lap all the while. This wasn't unusual, as the three of you had blurred the lines of physical touch before hand. Always grabbing and pulling each other every which way, sharing small sofas for movie nights, jumping on each other's backs on walks home from the pub.

"Shall we raise the steaks? Make it a betting game?" Oliver venured to wonder.

"Not enough money to play around like that." You warned. Felix shrugged.

"Strip poker?"

"Would take too long to get exciting." You pointed, imagining the game dragging on between the three of you.

"If Felix loses he's got to strip. All the way! If we lose," You gestured between yourself and Oliver, "Oliver has to kiss you. Tounge and all." You dared, drunk by that point.

"I'd kiss Felix any day of the week." Ollie declared, tracing your side, peering up at you.

"How come you're not participating in any of these scenarios love?" Felix pouted, looking to you with a raised brow.

"Is it getting hot in here ot what?" You joked buylt felt the tension of the room rise undeniably. That same old weight that hung between the three of you since the night you'd all gathered around the pub table.

"Think that may just be you, doll. In that sexy little night shirt." Felix flirted, casting you a smile as Oliver's fingers dared to rest just under the hem of your clothing.

The game went on, then, terms and conditions being agreed, too. The round flew by in almost silence, like there wasn't anything worth saying until a score was decided. Then Felix played the winning hand.

"Losers! Im now owed a kiss." The posh boy boasted, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms all smug.

"Fine. C'mre, then." Oliver waved to the guy, keeping a firm hold on your placement in his lap. Felix chuckled, and moved to lean over as if he was anticipating this moment. Then, right before your eyes, Felix pressed his lips to Oliver's, leaving a lingering peck there. He broke it off with another small laugh. But before he could sit back again, you spoke up.

"You can do better than that." You jested, not the steamy dare you had in mind. Reaching for the drink you'd made, Felix turned his gaze toward you, rasing a brow and a grin. The he turned his sights back to Oliver who gave a nod of consent.

Felix kissed Oliver again, closing his mouth to the boys and slipping a tongue in for good measure. When it ended, another was shared, even more passionate than you'd expected to see.

"Well now I just feel left out." You quipped, tightening your grip on Oliver's neck as the boys ceased their dare.

Felix just laughed and turned his hooded gaze to meet yours.

"Awe, wanna have your own turn, love?" He cooed, resting his hand on one of Oliver's knees that wasn't supporting your weight.

"Passing out your affections quite freely tonight." You half joked, looking into Felix's deep ember eyes.

"Only if you want. Won't be jealous will ya Ollie?"

"I can share." The man holding your frame responded as Felix pressed his smile to your mouth. You let him kiss you, slowly and sweetly. You kissed him back as your brain whirled around trying to figure out if this was all a dream.

"In order to share, Ollie, you've got to have a turn as well." You encouraged in a low tone.

"Will you let me have one?" He rang, right in your ear. His fingers were tracing lines up the sides of you, below the shirt you wore as a nightgown.

"I'll let the pair of you do whatever you please." You dared to hint.

"Now that's an interesting offer." Oliver smiled, looking up at you, those damn blue eyes seeing right into your soul.

"Kiss her." Felix whispered in a demanding tone, still only am inch away from you. Oliver looked down to your lips and waited for you to make an ever so slight move forward. And then his lips were curled against yours. His arm was snug around your waist. Your brain was still trying to catch up. Oliver kissed you with intention, waiting for you to match his pace then deepening his affections. It wasn't long before his kisses moved to bite against your neck.

That gave you the chance to turn your eyes to Felix, who sat watching with his teeth digging into his bottom lip. You let your eyes fall to his grip that remained on Oliver's knee. And then you caught a glimpse of the buldge in his joggers. Your eyes dared to meet Felix's once more, offering him a sultry grin.

"Alright." Felix seemed to decide, moving to stand. All of a sudden, he was gently pulling you from Oliver's lap, and over toward the bed.

"Get on your knees Oliver Quick." Felix demanded, grinning all the while. Oliver was speechless, but wasted no time obeying orders, bending to kneel before the bed. It didn't shock you thar Felix started calling shots. He was often the the decision maker of the group.

He asked if he could take off your underwear as his fingers already hooked the hem. You were nodding faster than you could think, excitement raving through your body.

Felix turned you around, pulled your back flush against him; and sat down nice and easy. You perched perfectly in his lap, registering his excitement prodding against your back side as Felix draped your legs over his, opening you up to Oliver.

The boy kneeling before you rose his hands to your thighs, letting his palms soothing your skin there.

"You sure? I mean about... all of this?" Oliver wondered, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

"I want this. Whatever tonight has to offer, I want you both."

Oliver nodded and whispered okay. And then he leaned closer. When his lips met your core, his breath was hot. When his kiss pressed against you, the burning coil of desire in your belly sprung out of control.

Felix kept busy by kissing you neck and letting his hands wander up your shirt to your breasts, kneading away. The mix of feelings and attention made your every nerve stand on end.

Oliver let his tongue lap at your middle and gazed up at you with those piercing blue eyes. You carded a hand through his hair and struggled not to pull him closer against you, desperate for something fiercer. But still, the steady swirl of his tongue worked up a whimper you couldn't restrain.

"Well done Ollie. Now come up here with us." Felix purred, stopping the other boy from making you squirm. Oliver broke his kiss from your middle and stood as he was told. Felix went on to raise you from his lap, tugging at the shirt you still wore. After he asked nicely, you shrugged it off with a smile. Felix pulled you back to the bed then, propping you against the pillows.

"Tops off lover boy." Felix winked at Oliver who was in the midst of crawling to join you on the bed. As the dark eyed boy whipped his tee off his form, Oliver was moving slower. The bare chested Felix grinned wider and helped Oliver with the last steps of taking his shirt off. Then he pushed the blue eyed boy against the pillows at your side.

"Well that was nice." You cooed, eagerly turning to face the guy, reaching out to trace patterns against his chest.

"And I was only getting started." Oliver smiled and let his eyes fall across your bare form. You nearly blushed under his observation. Oliver had this way of looking at you and making you feel like the only person alive on earth. As you turned your eyes down, you saw Felix ripping off Oliver's shorts and biting a kiss to his hips.

That gave you the chance to reach a hand out to press against Oliver's underwear. Fitting his clothed length in your grasp, Oliver whined in your ear. All the while, Felix had moved to trail kisses across your stomach. It wasn't long before his lips found your core, moving more greedily than Oliver had.

Your breath caught as Felix lapped at your middle, shouldering closer to suck and lick the most delicate part of you like it was his last meal.

"Oh, fuck Felix." You gasped, shocked by how quickly and easily he'd worked you up to nearly exploding. Oliver was peppering kissed on your breast as you left a palm close enough for him to grind on.

With a few more fervent swipes of his tongue, you started to mutter something of a warning. And that's when Felix stopped. You let out a frustrated groan as he shot you a salacious grin.

"Poor thing... has he not let you finish?" Oliver breathed in your ear. All at once, he reached down to slip a finger down to the middle of you. "Let me fix that."

As Oliver moved his fingers to swirl against the hilt if your core, Felix settled at your side, dancing his fingers down to slide a couple of digits inside of you. He found a steady pace to pump in and out of you as Oliver widened and quickened the circles his fingers drew.

"We'll let you come now, pretty girl. Can't say no when I'm watching you squirm like this." Felix said, kissing your neck. Then his fingers curled to press deep inside as he drove his digits still.

You let out a cry reaching to grip Oliver's hair as you felt his smile widen while he kissed your cheek.

Between Oliver's strokes and Felix' prodding, there was no stopping the orgasm that wracked your body. Your lower half trembled as you craned your neck, struggling to keep quiet, still mindful of the house full of people two floors away, somehow.

"That's better isn't it, darlin'?" Oliver cooed. As both men rose their hands, Oliver reached over. The fingers Felix had buried in you found their way into Oliver's mouth. The boys shared an absolutely salacious glance as you laid there coming back to reality, trying to comprehend how you wound up here.

"Wanna find out how much fun being denied something feels, Felix?" Oliver wondered, his tone dark and anxious.

"Thought you never ask." Felix grinned, shifting a little so his hips were facing the ceiling now.

As you laid catching your breath, Oliver bent over you to yank Felix shorts and underwear down enough to reveal his length. Without missing a beat, Oliver's mouth was full of Felix. The possessive manner in which Oliver sucked off the dark eyed boy had the towering fellow muttering curses right of the bat.

Felix's fingers reached for something to ground him, landing on your thigh. His digits clawed against your skin, while Oliver slowed his efforts to tease. You saw on the other side of you, the blue eye'd boys hips wriggling for their own release, as Felix let out an ungodly moan.

And just like that, Oliver pulled away, leaving Felix a carnal mess.

"Right, Ollie, I think your turn is long over due, lay back." You decided. You let your hands reach for his shoulders, pulling Oliver back to the pillows once more. You tried to move slow. To not give away how eager you were for this to continue. To mull through the motions like this was something you'd expected to happen tonight. But your stomach was aflame with want and your heart hammered with excitement and your brian buzzed loud as it tried to process that this was really happening. The boys you'd been growing closer to all year had decided to cross the final line. To make your actual daydreams come true.

Slowly, as planned, you sat up to sling your leg over Oliver's hips. Your straddle hovered as your hand reached to find his length, finally revealing it from under his knickers. With ease, you slid down. You pressed your teeth to your bottom lip and watched Oliver's bright blue eyes disappear as they rolled back in his head.

"Fuck that's hot." Felix chimed from the side, as you moved your hips at a steady pace. You'd only just begun as Oliver melted into the mattress. But his limbs tensed in no time, and his reflexes moved to sit the both of you up more. Oliver's strong arms pushed you from his lap and turned you over in one swift move. His execution of this change in position was so swift that you hadn't even processed that he'd slid into you all at once. With more fever, on his knees behind you, Oliver fucked into you hard and fast. You'd never felt so fucking good, you thought, so quickly, so suddenly.

You buried your head in the mattress and let out a hoarse cry, reveling in every second that Oliver rammed himself into you. Then you felt Felix's fingers again. They danced through your hair and tugged until your head lifted and your eyes met his. With a smile, you watched as Felix rose a brow. And you knew what he wanted. You knew what he was asking. You responded by reaching out to take Felix's well hardened length in your grasp, waiting for him to inch closer so your mouth could do the rest of the work.

Oliver was relentless, bruising your hips in his grasp as he fucked you like there was no tomorrow. He panted and growled and worked his body like he was forced by pure instinct. You knew he'd been bold in the past but he'd always been more calculated and restrained around you until now. Now was unprecedented. Now was so glorious.

Felix whined as you dragged your tongue across the most sensitive part of him. He begged for you to keep up your efforts. He begged to be able to come. Felix's yammering seemed to fuel Oliver's efforts behind you. And it wasn't long until the blue eye'd boy rutted against you in a jagged way, just before ripping away to release across your back. You kept up minding Felix as Oliver seemed to drag a tshirt across your skin, cleaning up the evidence. You hopped it wasn't your tshirt.

Felix followed suit soon after, holding your head against his crotch as he came undone. You were quick to swallow and slow to pull away. Felix let his fingers card through your hair once more as he laid catching his breath, smiling despite the furrow in his brow.

You let your back fall to the mattress, turning to find Oliver crashed there too, eyes fluttering closed, exhausted.

"You'll sleep well." You huffed a small chuckle, letting your knuckles brush across the apple of his cheek. Oliver grinned in response. The boy kept his eyes closed as he reached to grab the hand you rested on his face. Oliver pressed your knuckles to his lips for a kiss.

Felix hummed to concur, rolled over and slung an arm around your middle, weighing you down in a comfortable way. Your body settled into the mattress, a numb tingle still trickling through your nervous system. The boys that cocooned you lay silently, breathing steadily.

You laid awake for a while, as they fell asleep on either side of you. The first night in Felix's summer mansion was nothing short of spectacular. But there were three weeks left in the break. And many long days that waited ahead. And something told you things were about to get messier and messier...

───※ ·❆· ※───

[huntersrequiem-if]

Hunter's Requiem

demo [tba] | forum [tba]

dark fantasy, horror (?), romance

You are a minor deity of the Hunt, known by your followers as The Hunter, used by the other Higher Beings as The Hound. The All-Seeing Sun had given you countless tasks over your existence.

Yet one day, while on a mission sent out by him, you were summoned and judged for treason. The punishment left you mangled; your magic ripped off.

Cast away, you went into a deep sleep to recover.

After centuries you awoke to find your name spoken in whispers in the darkest nights. The Traitor. The world has changed, yet you still have true believers who await your awakening.

Will you be successful in your revenge? Will you be able to topple the gods or will you try to live in peace?

Features:

Play as male, female, nonbinary.

Your choices will affect the fate of your followers.

Befriend, romance or even antagonize a wide cast of characters.

Have a loyal shadowy companion by your side.

Astaroth [M]

"And to think I hated you. Now I can’t imagine living a single day without you.”

Your “other half”, attached to your psyche. He is content to stay in the backseat and offer comments. Tall and lean with gray skin. His face is sharp and angular, eyes with black sclera and white iris. Long black straight hair parted only by his antlers. His hands are black, tipped with long claws. The gradient loses color the closer it gets to his elbow. When he grins at you, you see beast-like teeth glinting in the light.

The Beloved Moon [F]

"That was the worst mistake I ever made. Please, I will do anything you want for you to forgive me.”

Moon has a curious interest in you. Since the moment she saw you, she had sought any chance to talk with you.

A short woman with deep blue skin and freckles that shine like stars. Her skin is shifting between deep blue and purple. She has a round face with full lips and a button nose. Round eyes with black sclera and bright blue iris stare at you with curiosity. Her long curly hair is white with pale blue streaks. Massive white feathered wings cover her back, sometimes used to cover her body like a cloak. Her smile might be gentle but the sharp fangs showed less so.

The Eternal Night [NB]

“I have turned a blind eye to the world far too long. I will no longer allow anything to happen to you.”

The Eternal Night is a distant person. Even more towards the other gods, yet for you they show a kinder side. They are tall and slender. Their sharp face is softened by full lips and expressive eyes. They have dark grey skin paired with stark white hair, that reaches their chin. The wavy strands frame their face nicely. Their eyes-- black sclera with crimson iris—are often covered by their mask. Massive black wings sprout from their back, and then the light catches the feathers right they look more blue than dark.

Santana [F/M]

"Why is it that every time I look at you I feel that I have known you for lifetimes? Why does my soul yearn for you?"

A priest you met in your past, a rather interesting person with a stubborn brand of kindness.

Tawny skin sprinkled with freckles. Golden hair is kept in a braid, far away from their face, yet a few strands escape and frame their heart-shaped face. Expressive eyes look at you, their blue gaze shining brightly.

They stand at an average height, donning the white and golden robes of the priests of Sun. Over that, they wear a chainmail.

You thought you lost them to the sands of time.

??? [F/M]

“Do you have any idea how long I prayed to see you, to hear your voice?”

Every day, they're slipping farther, their grip on the edge of the chasm growing fragile. Can you drag them back or will you shove them off?

[am-i-interrupting]

Hello! I really love your work, I just HAD to pop in your inbox after seeing your fics about Alastor's daughter.

What if Alastor's daughter is an angel that is scared of demons.

Like, when they were alive, Alastor's daughter used to be such a sweet child and I mean SWEET. Would never hurt a soul. Though she got killed at a young age because of envious children her age, left her in the forest to scare her but she got mauled by wolves and died.

Before she died, she was aware of Alastor's killings but she wouldn't speak up because she was too scared. IMAGINE ALASTOR BEING SUCH A LOVING DAD BUT ALL SHE CAN THINK ABOUT IS WHAT IF SHES NEXT IF SHE FUCKS UP AROUND HIM.

And he's not aware that she thinks that way. So when Sera sent her to investigate the Hazbin Hotel (to see if Charlie's theory is really true) she sees Alastor and gets tense even though he's so sincere around her.

How would everything gooo omg I'd like to see how creative you'll get!!

.

You never hurt a soul and that’s what helped you get into heaven.

You loved your father. You did but you were also terrified of him.

He was a serial killer, a murderer, and even if he tucked you into bed at night and made the best food, you could still be next.

You felt guilty the day he died because while you were heartbroken you were also so relieved.

You confessed to the police his sins as soon as they came to the house to break the news of his death.

You were crying, choking on tears as you told them everything.

It was the best and worst day of your life.

Despite that, life remained difficult for you.

People were cruel and mean and heartless and you died before the age of twenty.

You made it to Heaven.

You were a top winner, one revered for their kindness.

That’s how you got asked by Sera to go to Hell to observe Charlie’s idea first hand. Her being too untrusting of the angels to not start killing and “sanitizing” Hell as soon as they got there.

You were excited. You met Charlie while she was in Heaven.

She was somewhat of a kindred spirit. You got on with her well.

(Alastor actually does reminisce over you and his mother both in Hell. The lyric “You’re like a child that I wish that I had” in Hells Greatest Dad would have been changed to “You’re like the child which I used to have.”)

You went through the portal with her and Vaggie.

Both girls seemed conflicted, something must have happened during the meeting they had with the angels but Charlie quickly put on a smile and started explaining what everything was.

When you get to the Hotel, you seem him. You never thought you’d see your father again. You weren’t sure you wanted to even if you missed him. You immediately froze.

His brows furrowed as he looked at you before his smile widened, sharp teeth replacing the human ones you once knew but they were still coffee-stained.

“Is that my darling angel?” he asked as he walked towards you. “My dear, look how you’ve grown.”

He used the tips of his fingers to angle your face towards him and you couldn’t pull away. You were frozen in place, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You two know each other?” Charlie asked.

“Why yes, we do indeed,” Alastor said. “You recall I mentioned having a child.”

“Oh my god! Oops, sorry. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all. But this is so great!”

“Yeah,” you said meekly. “So great.”

Alastor would notice something wrong. He remembers your behaviors well. He’d try to make you comfortable while unknowingly pressing your buttons more.

Everyone else also notices something wrong, except Niffty.

Sir Pentious and Charlie likely think you’re just anxious and try to make you feel as comfortable and welcomed as possible.

Vaggie assumes it’s because you’re in Hell.

Husk and Angel realize it’s because Alastor’s there.

The two team up to make sure you’re never ever left completely alone.

They even manage to pull you away for a bit.

Husk offers some good advice and true silence not filled with the background of a radio crackling.

Angel let’s you bury your head in his fluff.

[eyesxxyou]

❝ forgivness ❞ (priest!miguel x black!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. catholic gulit. religious references. sexualizing of religion. usage of "father" in a non-familial way. oral (m receiving). handjob. riding, creampie. virgin!miguel. kinda predatory reader. miguel has only every known how to be good, he's never had anything he needed to feel guilty over. not until you came into his life.

wc: 6k

Miguel has never done anything he had to be truly ashamed of. He grew up a good child; quiet, agreeable, as obedient to his parents as he was to the Lord. He held his head lowly, with reverence for those above him and spoke quietly. There was never an ounce of rebellion, no smoking, no sex, nothing to reserve himself a place in guilt. His mother always pinched his cheeks and crooned, “Mi buen chico.” He was always the good boy.

Growing up in the Catholic Church, Miguel grew up knowing he’d become a priest, his mother always said so. It was his Godly purpose. He cleansed his soul and made a sacred vow to turn his back on worldly pleasures and remain celibate. After that, it was easy falling into line with priesthood. Temptations came and they went like a breeze, each one becoming easier to handle with time.

No, Miguel O’Hara has never done anything he had to be ashamed of, had to beg for forgiveness over.

Not until he met you.

You were not good for the mind, body and soul. Miguel knew it from the very moment he met you, with your sucker-stained lips that always curled into mischief-filled smiles as you watched him squirm under a gaze hotter than the sun and so sharp that it cut through him, tore him open, displayed his every emotion for your greedy eyes to intake. He knew it from that cheap perfume you dappled against your throat, the one that smelled like chocolate roses and raw sex. He knew it from the way you stirred unholy thoughts in his mind and made his cock twitch.

You were the kid of a dedicated member of the church, a 20-something who had fallen away from God and into “debauchery” as your mother put it. She wanted him to be your religious counselor, to put the fear of God back into you and set you straight. “The devil has come into my daughter and I want him out. I just want my little girl back.” She pleaded with him, her hands grasping his arms, eyes glazing over with tears. Miguel agreed only to avoid the mess of having to console a mother grieving the loss of their child to the world.

He didn't know exactly what kind of mess he was getting himself into until you knocked on the door to his office after service. You were standing there, all pretty like, in the shortest jean skirt he’d ever seen in his life, tight, torn up stockings, leopard-print camisole with black lace trim, an assortment of jewelry hanging from your wrists and neck that jangle every time you move, and a fur-lined jacket to top it all off. Your hair was messy, makeup even messier, but in an intentional sort of way that seemed cool with the kids nowadays.

“Father O’Hara.”

“Please, come in.” He stepped to the side to allow you access to his office. You looked up with him. Your smokey, hooded eyes maintained contact with his until you passed him completely. There was a sway in your hips as you walked. Maybe intentional, maybe not, either way, Miguel turned his gaze elsewhere simply out of duty and self-respect.

“You can sit if you’d like.” He motioned to the chair in front of the desk as he went to sit in his own swivel chair. Miguel leaned forward, lacing his fingers atop the sleek surface of his large, mahogany desk. He watched you slide your jacket from your pretty, bare shoulders and toss it down on the chair in front of him. “I’d rather stand.” You offered him a smile with those full, glossy lips of yours before turning away to look around and get a sense for your environment.

That skirt of yours left hardly anything to the imagination. He could see the round of your ass barely covered as they slope into your full thighs that breezed against each other with every step you made. You were a pretty girl, that's for sure. And at the end of the day, he was simply a man, watching, ogling, at your young, spry body.

‘Forgive me, Lord'. That would be the first of many unbeknownst to Miguel. He cleared out his throat and turned his gaze away as he wrung his hands, balling them into fists before relaxing in one full motion. “Do you know why you’re here?” His voice – though deep – was patient and warm, offering a kindness to you that your parents did not.

You scoff softly. Something of a distasteful scowl forming across your lips. “Yeah, ‘cause my mom said I have to go or she’ll kick me out of the house. I can't afford to leave yet, not in this economy.” You cross one leg over the other, your plush thighs pressing together. You look at a picture of him with the Cardinal framed and hung on the wall with your hands bound together against the round of your ass.

He should be ashamed of himself. He’s a little more than twice your age, just nearly old enough to be your father. He’s a priest for Christ’s sake and here he is, looking at your chaste thighs like a dog in rut, ready to hump anything in sight.

Miguel cleared his throat again as you readjusted your skirt and turned back to him. “Do you know why she wanted you to come meet with me?” He asked again. He slipped a finger between his throat and the collar that suddenly seemed to tighten around his neck and tugged to loosen it. That gaze of yours bore into him, dug and ripped and tore until he was nothing mor ethan a pile of guts on the floor. Could you see the way he struggled? The way that body of your that you so shamelessly flaunted elicited the most impure of thoughts?

“‘Cause she wants me to ‘love God again’.” Your voice became high-pitched and nagging, mocking as you quoted your mother. “I’m going to tell you right now, I won't. I don't plan to.“

You came over and dropped down in the chair in front of him. He the way your breasts moved with the action.“It’s really a shame too. You’re just my type. I’d love to spend more time with you.” You leaned against his desk with your back arched, pressing your breasts together in front of him in a subtle manner as you took one of the pens from his desktop and twirled it between your fingers. Your breasts sit pretty on your chest and Miguel can't help but to admire them. This was the beginning of your temptation, and God, you were so subtle with it. You were a master at your craft.

Miguel chose to ignore the comment to his own sake. “That’s fine. My goal is not to convince you to convert, I will never get you to change your mind that way. I’m just here to talk to you. I'm a counselor at the end of the day.” Which adds an extra layer as to why he shouldn't be looking at you the way he is. He’s supposed to guide you, not prey upon your pretty, little figure.

“If you think I’m gonna spill my sob story out to you–”

“We talk about whatever you want to talk about. You lead the discussion.”

You look at him, searching for an ounce of deceit in his gaze. Satisfied with his answer, you stand up once again and grab your coat. “Nice talking to you, Father O’Hara but I’ll be taking my leave now.” You make your exit swiftly before he has a chance to stop you.

Miguel sits still in his office for a while after you leave, unsure of what to do about the discomfort between his legs and the tent growing through his trousers. He made a cross over his chest and said a quiet prayer for forgiveness and for strength.

Miguel would not see you until the following week. Mass. It seemed your mother required you to attend these because you did not come to the regular services.

You sat close to the front, in a white slip dress that showed a bit of your black bra. Your fingers were adorned in rings, neck in necklaces of various length, wrists in bracelets. Your makeup was just as messy as it was intentional. Your mother beside you didn't seem very happy about your choice in clothing. Her lips were pressed into a firm frown, her hand strangling your wrist to keep you beside her.

Miguel looked everywhere that was not you during the reading of the word, knowing that he'd stumble about with his words like an idiot and have to start again. But he could feel your gaze on him out of all the others, burning, prying, tearing into him. If he looked at you, he would choke up, he would break, he would confess his sin right then and there to alleviate the guilt of knowing that he found you far more attractive than he should.

But he managed to get through the reading without so much as a hitch and thus began the Eucharist. The congregation ordered themselves in a tidy line down the center of the aisle. You sway slightly while waiting, he can see, you’re impatient but you’re not far from the front, it won't be long. Your mother keeps trying to stop you but you shrug her off your shoulder every time and continue to sway, catching glimpses of Miguel every time you do. You smile at him and Miguel turns away from you because your smile is too pretty for his face not to grow a little flustered.

But the line passed through far too swiftly for Miguel’s comfort before you were before him. You were so small, so pretty, so soft-looking. You dropped down on the cushion, kneeling before him as you looked up at him with those smokey eyes and the smallest pinch of a smile across your glossed lips. Your laced fingers sit in a ball against your chest as if you were praying before him.

Miguel let out a shaky breath as you opened your mouth and offered him your tongue. He picked up one of the little white wafers and swallowed, “Body of Christ.” He placed it up on your tongue with his thumb and let it pause there for a moment. The wafer melted quickly and soon, the pad of his thumb weighed heavy on your hot, wet tongue.

He could just imagine having you like this in his office, your hands eagerly working at the buckle of his belt before waiting there, placidly for him to slide his cock into the pretty, messy mouth of yours. How much could you take before you gagged? Looking at you, he bet you didn’t have a gag reflex at all.

You were pretty in a messy way, beautiful in a way that liked to stir shit up and cause trouble. The kind of beauty that made men do very dumb shit. There was a begging in your eyes to be used in the filthiest ways imaginable. You brought out a version of Miguel he had never known before, a version of him that clawed at the walls of his skull and simply begged to take you on every surface he could imagine. Just once would be enough, just once to get it out of his system.

He stopped himself before he could get carried away and retracted his hand to grab a little cup containing wine. His hand was trembling as he took the cup to hand it to you, your fingers brushing against his as you took it from him. You could see the way he shook for you, the way he could hardly contain himself and felt yourself satisfied with your work.

“Amen. Thank you, Father.” You whisper slowly as you stand from your knees and walk away back to your pew, your hips in that little dress swaying. Oh, those dark chocolate thighs of yours brushing against each other while you walk. His hands would look so nice on them.

Miguel asked the deacon if he could take over the Eucharist while he went to the bathroom. He retreated quickly to his office with a breath he had been holding in since you had first walked up to him. Your eyes, your lips, your tongue, your thighs. You were temptation on legs, sacrilege walking. The greatest test God has sent his way and Miguel wasn't sure if he was strong enough to pass it.

MIguel knows he shouldn’t have avoided you. He did not tell your mother that he could no longer help you. It would break her little heart and he couldn’t imagine the consequences it would spell out for you at home. He didn’t want to cause any trouble. He simply needed to overcome his weakness before he attempted to help you find your own way back to the Lord.

Confessions happened before every service. Anyone could come to the booth and ask for forgiveness for whatever sin they had committed, no judgment. Miguel has heard it all, from lying to cheating and back again. These people, though sinners, were trying to be good, trying not to fall for temptation and begging for forgiveness when they did.

Miguel had done nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to beg for forgiveness for. Not yet.

Miguel lowered his head as the next person came into the booth. They took a long moment to sit and adjust themselves before sighing woefully. “How does it go?” Your voice was soft, teasing, plaguing him like the impure dreams he’s started to have of you. They've left him waking up with the head of his erect cock sticking out from his pajama pants and a thin, sticky layer of cum coaking his chest.

Miguel’s heart jumped nearly out of his chest. He swallowed thickly, grasping the white fabric of his robes to calm himself. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” he lead you, murmuring lowly as if he were the one begging for forgiveness. Oh, how he’s begged in the silence of his office for these thoughts of you to be wiped from his mind. These thoughts of your body, of your mouth, of your eyes looking up at him while he used your body and mouth.

He needed you gone for he feared that with a little more time, he might succumb to his thoughts.

“Yes, that.” You adjusted yourself against the bench and looked at him through the grate that separated the two of you. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” You said it in a perfunctory manner and sighed. “I’ve been bad.”

“Tell me what ails you.”

“I’ve been having bad thoughts about a priest in the clergy, Father. Impure thoughts.” You nip at your bottom lip, hiding something of a smile as you speak. He can hear it, the honesty in your mischief, the plans you have to cause nothing but trouble. “He’s just so…pretty, and large, and pathetic like a wet dog but in a good way. I think of him while I touch myself at night.

“I think of him while I slip my hand into my panties.” Your voice lowers into a whisper as you speak through him through the grate. Miguel can feel his tunic tighten around his neck. “My cunt is already wet because I was thinking about him all day long. When I finger myself, I imagine it's his fingers stuffing my pussy full.”

He should stop you. This is going too far but his dick is stirring and he can't help but imagine it as you practically whisper it in his ear all the dirty things you do to yourself.

‘Lord, forgive me please’, he pleaded.

“My fingers aren’t as big as his though, so I imagine his head between my legs and his tongue licking my pussy. And when I cum, I say his name. ‘Father O’Hara!’” You mimic yourself, moaning softly into his ear. “ Everytime, I’m near him, I want to fuck him hard and fast. I need him…biblically. Does that make me bad, Father? Does that make me a sinner?”

He can't let out anything beyond a choking whimper, rendered speechless. He’s hard and desperate to keep that blasphemous mouth of yours quiet one way or another. “Y/n–”

“I’ll see you after service, Father. I won't keep you waiting.” You always make your exits swiftly, leaving him breathless and speechless all in one motion. His cock was twitching with arousal and the bulge against his crotch was leaving him far more uncomfortable than it was all worth. But never more than you were worth.

You kept your promise and came to visit him in his office after service, knocking at his door in a little tune while you shifted your weight between your toes and your heels. “Father O’Hara, it’s me. I’m here for counseling. Are you okay?” You play nice, play innocent behind the door but he knows better. You know better. You know what you do to him, you’ve known it from the very first day you’ve met him.

You don't wait for him to tell you to come in and instead make yourself comfortable and come in on your own. Your dress flows so delicately as you shut the door behind you.

Miguel isn't sure if he should tell you to leave, that you weren't welcome here after that stunt of yours in the confessional booth. It’s his job to help no matter who walked through his door. He can't let a little hardship stop him from doing what he had dedicated his life to. He remained firmly behind his desk as you wandered about his office, examining his wall-length bookcase.

“Have you always wanted to be a priest, Father?” You ask, tracing your fingers of the old, weathered spines of the books. You bend over to get a view of a book on one of the lower shelves. Miguel nearly choked, catching a glimpse of your clothed pussy peeking out between your plush thighs. The outline of your lips were visible through the pretty, white fabric of your underwear.

He swallowed, suddenly feeling dizzy. His cock pressed harder than before against his trousers and his mouth ran dry. His hand writhed, desperate to know what you felt like under his palms. You were probably soft, almost pillow-like. Miguel reached into his pocket and clutched his rosary for strength.

“I uh- no I didn't. But I had a change of heart after God spoke to me in a dream and told me my life’s work was with the church.”

You stood up and turned around to look up at him. You would say nothing of disrespect. You didn't believe in God but you weren't going to be an asshole about it, no reason to bash on anyone else over it. “That's a nice thought, someone just tells you what to do and you trust them wholeheartedly in that.” You hold your hands behind your back and sway softly. For a moment you look innocent in that white dress of yours.

“Is it about trust for you, then? Do you not trust God?” He needs to shift his mind. There should not be an ache between his legs in the house of the Lord.

“I don't trust him ‘cause he’s not real, of course.” You state it like it's a fact, like it’s obvious. “He can't be with all the bad shit that goes on in the world. And if he does exist, he’s either not all powerful or not all loving. I just don't wanna follow someone who lets a bunch of old perverts run his church.” You shrug with a pout of your lips.

“It’s an unfortunate side effect of people having power but not all religious leaders are ‘perverts’ as you put it.”

“No, of course not. Not you, Father O’Hara, you’re not a pervert.” You slowly make your way over to his desk with a sway. “You don't look at girls like me per se and think about how much you wish you never took that vow of celibacy.” You stand before him, hands on the sleek mahogany and you lean in close to him. “You don’t look at me and wish you could fuck me, do you?”

Miguel shook his head. “Those are not that same, y/n. You’re an adult.” He suddenly felt a sweat starting to form in his bow and around his collar. You looked at him and found swiftly that you liked watching him squirm. “So you admit, you’re attracted to me?” You smiled coyly.

You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down behind the thin skin of his warm brown throat. Slowly, you stood and began to walk around the side of his desk to stand on the same side as him.

“That would be wildly inappropriate for me to say, y/n. I’m a priest, I’m your counselor–”

“Please, like you haven't been ogling at me from the moment you first saw me.” You scoff and grab the arm of the chair to turn him about and show his shame. He was incredibly hard, so hard you could see the outline of his thick cock against his leg. He had his rosary in hand, dripping so tight you thought he might snap it. “You can't help it, Father. You’re just a man after all.”

You lowered yourself into your knees before him, your hands on the solid build of his thighs. You could feel the muscles of them under your palms as you slid your hands up his thighs. You palmed at his cock through the fabric of his pants and watched him shudder. “I wonder… how long has it been since you’ve felt the touch of a woman?”

Miguel tried to find the strength to refuse you, your temptation, but as you began to undo the buckle to his belt, he melted into his chair. “N-never.” He never wanted to, not until marriage, and once he decided he’d join the church and took a vow to dedicate his life to God, he’d never have the chance. Not until now.

You paused, gazing at him with something of a coy smile across your glossy lips. “Oh, Father. Don't worry, I’ll treat you real good.” You worked to release him from the confines of his pants with your soft hands.

He’s so thick and long, with veins running along the length of it, one on the underside ran from his pretty, brown tip to his heavy balls. You wrapped a hand around the base of it and stroked the length of it with a gentle flick of your wrist. You adored the way Miguel writhed beneath you, his hands balled into fists as he pressed his lips tight.

“Relax.” You ran a hand up and down his thigh while your thumb brushed a few beads of precum pearling at his slit. Miguel watched you with heavy eyes as you leaned in and pressed a sticky kiss to his head, smearing his precum like lipgloss across your lips. God, you were filthy.

Relaxing seemed like a pipedream in a situation like this. He was destroying the sanctity of his priesthood, all he had worked so hard to uphold the values to, and here he was succumbing to a girl, a seductress. And it felt so good. His whole life he was so good, why can’t he do wrong just once? All he ever felt was guilt, why not have a valid reason for it?

You took his tip into your mouth and suckled softly, that tongue of yours rolled over his slit while your hand firmly stroked his cock from head to base. “You’re so fuckin’ big, Father. So heavy.” You slid your lips further down the length of his fat cock, your mouth hardly able to open wide enough to take the thick of him.

The way you took him had to be considered blasphemous because that mouth of yours felt better than any god. So soft and wet. Miguel shuddered, his hips bucking into your mouth uncontrollably, thighs flexing. He did not ask for forgiveness, he wanted nothing but your hot mouth and soft throat that was slowly taking him further and further as you pushed down his hips and kept him still. You looked up at him with glazed eyes, breathing softly through your nose. You’re good at this, an expert.

Miguel lost it as you began to play with his balls, all heavy and full from never knowing the touch of sin. He placed his hand upon your head and grabbed a firstful of hair at your scalp. Would you let him take control, let him take what he needed from that pretty mouth of yours, your sharp tongue turning so, so soft?

You let your jaw go slack, let him drag your head up and down the length of his cock. Your tongue lapped at his slit every time he dragged you up and licked the underside of his cock with each thrust down your throat. Miguel clenched his jaw as you took control once again, bobbing your head, taking his cock like a champ.

“God- ngh~ fuck.” Miguel relaxed like puddy in your hands, watching the way you took him all the way down your throat and swallowed before hollowing your cheeks as you released him with a pop from your sweet mouth. You worked him with your hand with firm tugs at his cock. He reached out for you, his hand cupping your full cheek as he ran his thumb across your full, bottom lip.

Oh you were so good, too good, pumping his cock better than he ever imagined that he could. It’s been so long. An orgasm was quickly approaching on the horizon, building within the pit of his stomach. His breath trembled with pleasure and his abdomen flexed with the telltale signs of climax.

“Gonna cum already, Father?” You tease, jerking his cock with creamy, wet strokes, your path slicked by saliva and precum. “That’s cute. Go ahead then, cum for me. Give it to me.”

It was torture. The kind you beg for all your life, the good kind. The kind Miguel never knew he needed so badly in his life. He rutted his hip up into your hand, cock aching with the beginning of a feeling the burned throughout him and ravished his body completely.

It came out of him in a thick spurt of white that shot out and landed on his chest. The rest oozed from his tip and over your knuckles as you milked him of ribbon after ribbon of cum all built up over the years. There was so much of it, pooling at his base and over your pretty, dainty fingers. His thighs rock open and closed with the weight of his orgasm.

Miguel was seeing stars, his eyes rolling back as he shuddered and gripped his rosary until the beads left imprints in his flesh. His face glowed red from his collar to the tips of his ears, flushed. He let out something of a satisfied groan, more akin to something feral than human. A need, a pleasure that transcends all.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” You ask as the last few pathetic dribbles of cum roll over your knuckles. You reached out over his desk and grasped a few tissues to clean off your hand. “Must’ve, you came so fast, Father.”

Shame and embarrassment washed over Miguel. You could see the post-nut clarity all over his face and knew for certain that this wouldn’t end well. It’s always the religious boys that hold the most repressed shame in them.

“We shouldn’t have done that.” Miguel grabbed his own tissue to clean himself up, patting out the cum from the fabric of his shirt and hoping it wouldn’t stain. “That was wrong, y/n. This can never happen again.” He shook his head firmly, muttering under his breath, “never again”.

You scoffed, standing from your kneeling position. “Are you sure?” You reach up and take the straps of your dress, pulling them down. The dress fell away easily after that. Miguel didn't have the heart to tell you to stop as you reached around your back and undid the clasp of your bra until it fell loose on your chest. You let that drop along with your panties and let it pool at your ankles.

You looked so soft, so pretty, so vulnerable. Miguel didn't stop you as you stepped out of the puddle your clothing made around your ankles and approached him once more. You straddled his lap, pussy rubbing his half-hard cock back to life while you cupped his pretty face in your hands. You eyed his rosary. “That's pretty.” Your hand reached out and slowly, tenderly, unraveled it from his break-neck grip of it.

You took it from him and examined it carefully, your fingers brushing over the intricate design of Jesus on the cross. Suddenly, before he could stop you, you put it on, the cool metal of the cross resting against your naval.

Miguel didn't want Him watching his shame, his sin, but he couldn't stop you, not as you held his cock between the lips of your pussy, all wet and sticky, and rutted your hips to coat him in yoru slick before letting him sink into the soft love of your cunt inch by inch. He shuddered and tossed his head back against his chair. “Good God!”

God, this must be the closest thing to heaven on Earth. The soft, wet, gummy walls of your pussy enclosed around him, hugged him, gripped him like a vice. You sank all the way down in his lap, coating your pussy and thighs in the remaining cum he had yet to clean. It was all so filthy, so disgusting, so beautiful. It was certain, he was going to Hell.

Miguel was seeing stars, his hands came to find purchase on your hips and thighs, gripping at any piece of pretty, soft flesh his large hands could reach. He eyed your tits, bouncing with temptation before him, your pretty nipples pebbled with arousal.

“Go ahead, Father. Take what you need.” You offered yourself to him like a buffet and indeed, Miguel took. His lips latched to one of your breasts and suckled with desperation at your bud, tongue swirling and lapping while you held him and caressed his head, running your fingers through his thick head of hair and tugging when he nipped a little too harshly. “Gentle, Father.”

He couldn't be gentle. He needed you, his hips rutted into your pussy every time you rode him. It only took four pumps for his cock to twitch deep inside your pretty, little pussy. You felt too good, too tight, he had never known such pleasure.

This could be religion, this could be worship. What a beautiful, blasphemous thought.

You rode him through orgasm after orgasm until he started going numb, each one following another shortly after the other. Your pussy dribbled with cum, running down the length of his thick cock each time your creamy cunt milked him.

Miguel guided your hips though he had no control over the way you bounced on his cock. His rosary slapped your navel with each stroke of your pussy against his cock, swinging just against his act of sin where he came inside your young, begging pussy until he couldn't anymore.

You moaned in his ear with every stroke of his fat cock inside your tiny cunt. His tip kissed your cervix and dragged along your gummy walls, molding them into just the right shape to take him. You shivered each time your clit stroked against his pelvis, cum-coated and aching.

This was sin, this was temptation, this was sacrilege, and he loved every second of it. Every quiver of your pussy around him, every shiver you made when he came inside you and left you more spoiled than before, every time his rosary slapped your soft belly and got a little cum on it.

You were his rebellion, his bad behavior, and what a time to have it.

Miguel slid his hand beneath your thighs and lifted you up. A gasp escaped you as he placed you down on the surface of his desk, your legs hooked around his hips to keep him close.

He stuffed your messy hole full of cock, his hands on your hips to keep you still. Each thrust eliciting a creamy stir of your used up pussy. His length met that soft ridge inside of you and you weren't sure you could take what you had given out.

“F-Father, wait!” You attempted to close your legs but he splayed them open, kept you nice and exposed for him. What a messy little cunt.

He fucked you so hard that the desk was beginning to slide with each stroke of his dick. Your legs were beginning to tremble at his abuse to your poor, swollen pussy. You could deal it but you couldn't take it, the moment he reciprocated your energy, you were a weeping mess beneath him, gasping for air and begging for mercy from a god you didn't believe in.

Was this how he could convert you? Fuck you into believing? It didn't seem like a half bad idea.

And oh– when you came, your pussy clamped down around him and triggered another one of his own. Your hips both shudder at the sensation and your groans intermingle like one holds hands. You can hardly handle it. Tears prick your eyes as you hold onto Miguel’s rosary for stability and rock out an orgasm so intense you fear you may never have one like it again. It rocks your entire body and leaves you shaking.

You don't know how many times Miguel came in you but you knew the feeling of it all coming out of you in thick globs when he pulled out. It was all backed up in there, you couldn't blame him. He made an attempt at cleaning you up as best as he could with the tissues he had on his desk.

You chuckled softly, crooning out, “I didn't think you had that in you.” You sat up and leaned in with a smile, easing your lips against his to which he immediately pulled away from you, shaking his pretty head.

“Don't think anything is going to come from this, y/n. This can't happen again for the sake of my job. This was wrong.” He had to set you straight now before this got even further out of hand than it already had.

You knew better. You made the motion of zipping your lips and tossing away the key.

You got up and made your way over to your clothing on the floor to dress yourself. “I won't tell a soul but Father, this wasn't wrong.” You pulled on your bra and clasped it together behind your back, then your dress. “This was always going to happen, it was just a matter of time. Plus–” you lean in close as he flinches away from you for fear that you might kiss him again because he knows if you did, he wouldn't be able to resist you.

You got up on your toes and whispered sweetly into his ear, “I’ve already had you. I was your first. That means you’re mine.” You slipped your bunched up panties into his hand. “Beg for forgiveness all you want, Father, but until you accept that, you’ll always feel guilty about everything you do.” You pulled away and looked up at him with an earnesty he’s never seen in your gaze before.

Neither of you said anything more. You gave him back his rosary and left the room swiftly before your mother somehow found you in here all breathless and fucked out. She’d never suspect that the holy Father O’Hara would ever do something as scandalous as to fuck her daughter. If only she knew the way you defiled him, tore him to pieces, left him weeping in his office with the guilt of what he’s done.

“Father, please forgive me.”

[joshusten]

honeysuckle (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Guy is having not-so-wholesome thoughts about his recently turned roommate-to-lover.

NSFW CONTENT!! (minors dni pls!)

(suggestive, making out, dirty thoughts, implied sexual content at the end)

3.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]

[cw/notes: idk man guy is horny and theres a lot of horny stuff but it's not SUPER explicit (i think) and plsplsss im asking for feedback bc this is the first time writing something this suggestive hope u enjoy!! OH also as always theres probably grammatical errors and guy might be OOC]

A HUGEEE thank you to the wonderful @slushiepizza for all the amazing suggestions and support throughout writing this fic!! this rlly would not be finished without ur help thank you for ur service in providing quality guy/honey content SHAKING U RN ILY!!!

Guy is a daydreamer.

Ask anyone who knows him, from his grade school teachers to his apartment neighbors, and they can attest that Guy never seems to run out of topics to talk about. Never a dull moment, much less a dull idea to mull over when he’s around.

In fact, his imagination is something he prides himself in. After all, as an aspiring writer, it’s what gives the very soul of all of the stories he wants to share with the world—whether it’s the exciting plot of a potential novel he has been writing (and rewriting) all night throughout the week or an epic fantasy he was able to make up on the top of his head and narrate to the kids by the playground of the middle-school he makes deliveries to.

Guy is a daydreamer. 

And it might be the very trait that would be the root of his current predicament.

Slow hands, languid movements

“Does this feel good, Honey?”

Heavy breaths, sharp gasps

“You can get r-rougher, babe. I can take it…”

Warm bodies, warmer lips

“M-mhm, Guy…”

Fuck. Their lips…

“Guy?”

Fuck.

“Guy!”

Fuck.

“Hello? Earth to Guy? You with us, buddy?”

Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit.

“Wh-wha-what? H-hi! Yeah, of course I am. I am here. On the earth. Present. With you guys,” Guy cleared his throat awkwardly after seeing the unconvinced, deadpan looks on his co-workers' faces. Rosa specifically had her brow raised in suspicion to which Guy responded with a nervous smile. “Uh, what’s up?”

“What’s up,” The woman repeated, “Is your constant staring into space! You almost burned the dough if it weren’t for me keeping an eye on you! I’m used to your head in another world but you’ve barely said a word for the past few hours!” The others nodded in agreement. 

Rosa's hard eyes softened, “Is everything okay with you? Something botherin’ you or what?”

Right. Dough. Pizza. He’s making pizza. He’s kneading dough. The flour clinging to his hands suddenly felt heavier, the scent of basil overwhelmed his nose and the chattering of the customers increased in volume but that meant that everything was starting to make sense. He took in his surroundings, which were quickly clearing up for him, to finally decipher that he was still in Max’s, in the kitchen and it was still his shift.

Definitely not with his recent roommate-to-lover and definitely not in their dimmed bedroom, straddling them on their bed with a delightfully sinful expression painted on their face as his shaky hands slowly creep up between their—

Oh my god.

The very thought of them already leaves Guy's legs feeling like jelly. These daydreams had been a problem for him for quite some time. It wasn't like it was a crime to get all hot and bothered over his partner! Yet, lately, an unexplainable sense of shame builds inside him whenever his mind wanders to more…impure scenarios with them. 

Because despite what anyone might think of him and how he jokes about it, he's a little scared of being intimate with someone—no—with Honey.

Oh fuck, someone asked him a question.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a lil’ tired, I guess.”

And he isn’t lying, really. The fatigue of making pizzas and serving tables was no joke and, with all the very interesting fantasies occupying his mind, his shift slightly just got more difficult to get through than what he was used to. (Thank god he's not on delivery duty right now. He's self-aware enough to know he would get into an accident with his current situation)

His co-workers still looked suspicious but accepted his answer nonetheless, hurriedly going back to their tasks to avoid the wrath of their manager. The man let out a sigh of relief as he resumed his own tasks for the day.

As his grueling shift came closer to an end, he was more than ready to take the apron off and get the absolute fuck out of that kitchen.

—

Guy might actually be the first person in all of Dahlia to dread coming home to an apartment that he shared alongside his (literal!) dream partner who was waiting for him after a long, tiring day at work.

Honey, who was all bundled up in a blanket on the couch, paused the show playing on the T.V. to face their boyfriend and properly greet him, “Hey, welcome home. How’s work?”

“It was shit. Did you eat already?”

He saw them already heading their way to their small kitchen, reaching for something in the refrigerator. “Yeah, I left some for you in the fridge. We can heat it up if you want?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I ate back at the restaurant. What are you watchin’?” But before he could get a reply, Guy’s body stiffened when he felt a light shock from where Honey had suddenly touched his upper arm. 

Light touches.

Heavy panting.

Hot air.

“Oh, f-fuck, Guy. Do that again, hon. Please. Don’t stop, don’t—”

“ —think I didn’t hear you, mister! What do you mean your day was shit?” If Honey had noticed their boyfriend flinching at the mere tap on his shoulder, they didn’t comment on it. 

“U-uhm,” He coughed and shrugged lamely to hide his reaction. “Just the usual stuff.” The man put down all his stuff on the nearby coffee table. “C-can I just lay on your chest for a while? If it’s okay with you.”

Despite Honey’s aloofness, they can recognize when their partner is truly in need (And who could say no when their boyfriend’s usual chaotic self sounds so adorable being shy?) The gentleness in their gaze was enough to calm Guy’s frazzled mind, even just for a bit, before sitting on the sofa and patting on the empty spot beside them, albeit looking quite unsure on how to comfort him.

“C’mere. Do…do you wanna talk about it?"

Guy simply shakes his head before letting himself crash onto the couch and into his beloved's (with the second "e" pronounced!) welcoming arms—or, at least, what welcoming might look on Honey. He can feel the rigidness of their posture, remembering how awkward they can be with physical touch, yet here they are, going out of their comfort zone just to make sure he feels better. 

It makes him guiltier to know why he was acting like this in the first place.

“Can you…talk about your day instead, Honey?” 

They rolled their eyes with a fond smile, “Fine, but don’t think I’m letting go of it that easily, m’kay?” 

As Honey recounts the events of their day (which honestly isn't much), their stiff demeanor eventually relaxed to the point where they were more comfortable with absentmindedly giving affection, unaware that they’d been playing with Guy's hair for the past few minutes. The gentle massages on his scalp were a much-needed distraction for his mind.

That is until he felt a sharp tug from Honey in an attempt to untangle their fingers between his messy locks.

Fistfuls of hair.

Skin on skin.

Arched backs.

"Fuck, keep doin’ that, Honey. Oh–” 

“—shit! Sorry about that. Did I pull too hard?” Honey was already moving their fingers away from his head before Guy quickly (a little too quickly) halted the movement. Guy guided Honey’s hand back to its original place on his head, squeezing ever so slightly.

“No! It's okay, Honey. Just…keep it there.”

Honey gives him a knowing smirk, “You are acting so weird, you know that?”

“Just indulge in a poor man’s wishes, will you?” Guy dramatically lamented, really wanting to avoid the conversation and go back to relaxing and getting some rest. 

“Whatever you say, man,” They replied, resuming from where they left off with their story. 

As much as Guy would love to listen, his focus started wandering elsewhere as his mind drifted to sleep. 

The ticks of the clock, the scent of Honey’s body wash, the number of their eyelashes.

The texture of Honey's soft blanket.

Messy sheets.

Desperate thrusts.

Sweat dripping.

"Oh god, G-Guy, I think–I think I'm g-gonna–"

"--come?"

"H-huh?" Guy hadn't realized how hard he was gripping the throw pillow on his lap. At this point, he’s going to expose himself one way or another if he keeps being out of it. He tried his best to compose himself, hiding his distress behind a laugh. "S-sorry, Honey. Could you repeat that?"

Honey did a face, softly chuckling for a bit, before repeating their question. "I said; 'I'm gonna go buy a gift for Ollie’s birthday tomorrow morning, do you wanna come? It’s your day off tomorrow, right?”

“Uh, y-yeah. Of course. I’d love to, Honey!”

Honey stared for what felt like forever before making a face again, this time, looking like they had just been enlightened by something and letting out a snort that was so adorable, Guy almost forgot why he was avoiding their gaze.

"Pfft– Guy, you—" Honey said through their stifled giggles (that was a tell-tale sign of the belly laughs they only share with him and no one else). They never got to finish the sentence, trying but, ultimately interrupting themselves with their own laughter.

He smiled, happy to see them show this much emotion towards him when to others they tend to be more closed off (albeit, a little confused about what caused it so suddenly). “I'm what, Honey? Hey! I'm what? Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re—pfft!” 

Familiar playful slaps targeted his thighs with a faint sting he’s too far used to. He notices that their smile had their teeth showing, too busy laughing to cover it with their hand like they often do. 

Guy’s crumbling.

He knew his desires were seeping through the cracks and it took all of his willpower to resist tackling them then and there—to feel every inch of their body and give them every last bit of pleasure they rightfully deserved. But he can't. He shouldn't.

So, he opts for a kiss on the cheek instead. 

Something sweet enough to mask how hard his mind was reeling with overly aggressive affection. As he continued with his fleeting, featherlight attacks on Honey's face, his lips felt the smile that their mouth formed (accompanied by an out-of-breath “Guy, that tickles!”) and he found that pulling away was more difficult than he thought.

After a while of innocent pecks and bubbling snorts, Honey raised a hand to wipe a tear from their eye. They were looking directly at him now, eyes soft with their lips slightly parted and panting from laughing too hard.

Lips. Their lips.

“Guy, you good?”

A man can only have so much self-control before he breaks.

The next few moments felt like a blur. A hitched breath, a tightened grip. His lips hungrily meet theirs and the moan he immediately lets out was almost pathetic. But he couldn’t give a damn about anything other than the pleasurable weight grinding down on his crotch. 

They felt so good. Everything felt so fucking good. The spinning in his mind paired with the aching throb of his cock were all too much to handle that he can’t even tell if this was real or if it was the same fantasies that had been torturing him all day.

No. It’s real. It’s all real.

Despite the haze in his surroundings—despite all the noise—the only thing occupying Guy’s thoughts were the whimpers coming out of Honey that were better than anything he could have ever dreamed of. 

“Fuck,” He swore under his breath, the friction against his growing bulge breaking down any sense of sanity he had left. Guy squeezed their thigh a little harsher than intended, making Honey loudly moan out in surprise.

He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into their mouth, lapping up all the sounds he managed to coax out of them. Honey’s hands found their way to his hair, tugging like last time with more intent than before and it dragged out a needy whine from his throat muffled between their lips.

Unfortunately, the breathlessness he was experiencing isn't the same type he feels when he's around Honey and he remembered that humans do, in fact, need oxygen in their system. He pulled away from them for a quick breath, taking pleasure in how they desperately chased his lips with a soft whine, before immediately aiming at their jaw, sucking, licking, and biting skin as it trails down on their neck. 

Honey is quick to respond, their fingers ghosting the hem of his work uniform before sliding them up, keeping his squirming body steady by grabbing his waist with one hand as the other roams to his chest, the shirt riding up with it and they feel his heartbeat speed up against his ribcage.

The sensation leaves Guy lightheaded. He swore he could see stars, especially after their warm palms stroked past a particular spot he didn’t even know he was sensitive to. The action had him writhing under the weight on his lap and Honey’s sudden thrust against his clothed dick brought out a stuttered gasp from him with his hips bucking up involuntarily. 

“Shit, baby,” Honey whispered, the strain in their voice evident as they grind down harder just to hear Guy’s wanton moans one more time. “So fucking needy.”

Hot breaths.

Bare skin.

Intoxicating scents.

This felt like Deja vu.

Guy had seen this before. He dreamt of it so much that it felt like second nature for his body. During nights when his partner hadn’t been home yet and he was feeling oh so, lonely—so desperate. Nights when his imagination had gone truly wild, the same scenario that he had been replaying over and over again. The one where he would have them in a panting mess.

He vividly remembers what goes next. The movement is practiced—etched into his memory. Every bone, every nerve in his system practically has it memorized in its core. 

He pins them on the arm of their sofa, the air is hot and heavy. One final passionate kiss, one final slip of his tongue, one final grind between their legs, and his hands would reach down, down where they needed him the most to—

“A-ah, Guy, w-wait!” 

And just like that, Guy’s mind snaps back to reality. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.”

“No, no, I’m really sorry. I–” He hurries to back away, pushing off his body and sitting upright with an arm’s distance away from an equally disheveled Honey. Fuck, they looked so pretty with their lips swollen like that. His eyes guiltily avoided the abundance of purple marks he wasn't even aware he left on their neck. Shit, focus!  “I don’t know what came over me. I’m–”

“Guy, it’s okay, I like it!” Honey cuts him off, not allowing their boyfriend to give himself to blame for something that didn’t even need his apologies. “I like it a lot. I was just…worried. Ever since you came home you were acting kind of off and I don’t want you to go through with this when I feel like something’s bothering you.”

Honey reaches out to him with concerned eyes, which should probably be an indicator for Guy of how odd he has been acting as of late. Their fingers find his knuckles, gently tracing circles on them as they patiently wait for his response.

Guy never knew his heart could beat faster, given how…intimate their latest activities were, but here he is, out of breath and falling in love all over again.

“I-I know this is kinda weird and I’m being really weird and everything is weird right now but I…uhm. Well, I guess you were right about me being all bark but no bite after all, eh?” He cringes at the way his voice cracked at the end and clears his throat for the nth time today.

“Okay, what I’m trying to get to is that…I've…been thinking about you…in a not-so-wholesome way for a while now. And I know, I know, this isn't new. I've flirted with you before and you already said you were okay with it, even with the raunchier ones but I'm just…"

Guy nervously looks away to the side, his eyes downcast to avoid Honey's curious stare. "This feels like a whole new thing now that we’re actually together and it really means a lot to me. Us. You're actually one of the best things to ever come into my life and I don't want my lack of…keeping it in my pants…to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner."

The deafening silence that followed his vulnerable confession might possibly be one of the worst things he ever had to experience. Then, a sudden giggle tore through the tense atmosphere.

Honey was laughing again.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh but w-was that the thing that’s been bothering you?”

They moved closer to their boyfriend, that's currently sporting a comically betrayed look on his face. “I've noticed your hard-on already, Guy. And don’t worry, I've been…thinking about you like that too for a while now.”

Guy wished nothing more than to get swallowed by the ground beneath him.

“I–What the fu–YOU—!” Guy sputtered, not quite sure if he should feel relieved or embarrassed at the moment but one thing stuck to his thoughts, Honey felt the same.

“Honeeeey! You can't just say that and—I can’t believe you would—! Oh, you have no idea how much I've been through today!”

“I'm sorry!” But their shit-eating grin says otherwise and Guy can't help not to get mad anymore with that face. “Besides, it was kinda cute seeing you all flustered for once. Serves you right, you brat.”

“Oh wow, I’m the brat in this situation? You…torment me and now you degrade me with such scornful slander?” The man places a hand on his chest melodramatically. “I’m heartbroken, Honey…and still hard!”

"Hm…Well, then," Honey's half-lidded gaze directs itself to Guy's lips. The sultry tone of their voice tickles his brain in the best way possible. "Do you want me to—"

Guy lets out a surprised squeak as his back suddenly hits their sofa with a forceful 'thump!' Their hand is placed on the side of his head, fingers twisting around his curls. The other found its way on his thumping chest, carefully sliding downwards at an antagonizing pace.

"—lend you a hand? After all, I must’ve been quite the headache for you, in more ways than one." 

“Oh no,” Guy started, easily maneuvering their positions to have his partner on their back “No, no, no, you’ve been teasing me for far too long, Honey.”

“Let me," He drags his hips across theirs and he revels in the way Honey chokes on their breath. “Handle this. Is that alright with you, baby?” He wishes he could take a picture of this moment. Seeing them writhe under him was a sight he never wanted to forget.

Honey gulps before their lips form a nervously excited grin. Their pupils are blown wide in anticipation. "You better get to work then, Guy." 

Then, they slowly lean towards Guy to whisper their next words to his burning ears, “And don’t worry about being rough, hon. I can take it.”

Guy is a daydreamer.

But no daydream can ever compare to the reality he's going to be experiencing right now.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Kitsune!Michael Kaiser x AFAB reader

TW: Smut with really little plot, religious themes, dom!Kaiser, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, scent kink, Kaiser wants you to carry his baby LOL

author notes: I didn’t want to write smut anymore and here I am with this one. I also did a damn mood board I can’t even recognize myself anymore. It’s all Michael’s fault. Hope that I will get him out of my system with this one and finally write something else for the other fandoms LOL (and if possible not smut). Anyway it's 2k words of smut, hope you'll enojoy it.

It was an old habit you got from your granny-

“Every month visit the temple we have behind our house, cook some strawberry delicacy and the God of the mountain will protect you.”

Now, it’s not like you fully believed your granny's words, a lovely woman, but that kind soul believed a little too much in rituals.

But you know? Why not try? It was also a good way to improve your cooking skill and jog in the forest.

Every time you bring to the little shrine the food you made you get heart palpitation, the luck to live near such a wonderful forest. It is a small one, and rarely people jogged there, so you often found yourself alone or with some fawns passing by, the gentle wind caressing your face; truly relaxing.

Now it is a habit of yours, every afternoon you would bring to the temple a new strawberry delicacy. Too bad that winter came, and strawberries are nowhere to be found.

“Well, I suppose the God of the mountain will have to accept an orange delicacy this time!”

Imagine the surprise when the next day, near the plate you set near the shrine you found a ticket, made with some expensive paper, the words on it still make you tremble-

“I hate oranges, bring me something better.”

So there was for real a mountain God! You always thought the animals were the ones eating your food- “No, it’s impossible” you try to regain your composure. There is no God, it must have been some dumb kid passing by that wanted to play some cheap trick. Muscles still twitching for the fear you ran back home, not spending more than a minute there, and not noticing a pair of blue eyes following your every step from behind a bush.

The next time you visit the temple it is January, exactly one month from the last time you visited the shrine and you bring the same exact delicacy as last time.

“Can’t you read? I told you last time that I hate oranges!”

The plate falls on the ground with a thud, it isn’t broken, but for sure the food you made is now spoiled. But what surprised you so much?

A guy of breathtaking beauty sits on top of the shrine, he has sharp features, his deep blue eyes adorned by a delicate shade of red eyeshadow, the same color of his lips, plump and soft, you could tell it from afar. He has blonde hair, ruffled and all over the place, but you noticed the tips to be blue, the same shade as his eyes and you can only think about how much you would pay to brush his fingers in between his gold and sapphire tresses.

“Hey! Are you deaf? Reply back human!” He stands up, and you can’t not notice how tall he is, how broad are his shoulder and how fit he looks.

And then you also see the fangs and the nine white tails waving left and right from anger.

“I-Is this a dream?” don’t wake me up “Who are you?”

“I’m the God of the Mountains. Call me Kaiser.”

You nod, a loud gulp breaks the silence between you two.

“I’m so sorry, I thought some dumb kid left the note and-“

“Shut up, I don’t care about your excuses! I protect you and this is how you show your gratitude? With this disgusting-“Did he just throw at you the food you made?  “oranges!?”

“When have you ever protected me you asshole! Never seen you around!” You shout back, trying to clean your chest; what a waste of good food.

“Maybe when I got rid of that stalker that was following you anywhere? Or when that brute of your colleague tried to punch you?”

A flash. Now you understand why all of a sudden that strange guy stopped following you, it hasn’t been going on for a long time so in the end you just thought you had similar routines. And that jerk of your colleague? You were sure he was going to punch you, but in the end didn’t, you thought he just cleared his mind and decided to let go.

“Oh I didn’t think-“

“Yeah, you don’t look like someone that has ever done that.”

Okay, this God is as much good-looking as he is irritating, but honestly, you don’t feel like angering the God even more so you let go.

“I’m so sorry for my attitude. What can I do to make it up to you?”

It must have been your trembling irises, your pupils were already blown wide, your chest slowly rising, up and down, and now pushing on his hard and broad one, faces mere centimeters apart, that gave the God an idea; a delicious idea.

“On your knees”

“W-What, umpf-“

Kaiser pushed you down and was now untying the know that kept his white linen robe in place.

“Be a faithful worshiper and pleasure your God”

At that moment you see his erect cock, such a pure white with two veins on the sides and the tip so engorged and so red, a mouth-watering contrast. You don’t complain and start by leaving kisses on his tip, they never linger, the heath subsiding immediately, never giving the pleasure the God wants to receive.

“Brat, take it”

Kaiser grips your hair and pushes in, the intrusion makes you choke, but the vibration just makes him want to abuse your throat more. You try to suck as good as you can, but you are not used to such a girth, saliva slips from the corner of your mouth, while his hands keep a steady grip on your hair, your scalp hurts, but even more your throat now that your nose brushes the blonde curls of his pelvis. You put your right hand on his hips, trying to set the rhythm yourself while the other massage the heavy balls that keep slapping on your chin.

“Yes like that, I know that you had it in you, whore”

He keeps abusing your mouth, and since you can’t still his hip you decide to use your hand where you can’t reach his length, finally relieving your sore throat.

“Look at you, squeezing your thighs together-“ finally a moan escape his mouth “you can’t wait to have me in you, mh?”

He is right, if he can stretch your mouth so much you can only imagine how deliciously he can stretch your tight pussy.

“Now darling-“ Kaiser pull out, your saliva still connect your lips to his cherry-red tip “pull out your tongue and hands, your God here is gonna bless you”

And he does, with a few strokes, his dick twitch and white hot cum cover your tongue and your open palms.

What can you do other than gulping down and licking your fingers clean? By the look on the deity’s face, you followed the right path.

“You are my fave kind of worshiper” He licks his lips and looks at you with a wicked spark in his eyes “lay down, you need to get ready”

You can’t even start to follow his order, that Kaiser already manhandled you on the ground, tearing your leggings with a swift motion, it would be a lie to say that he didn’t excite you immeasurably.

“Fuck, you don’t even wear panties? You really wanted to be railed in the mountains, bitch” His forefinger caress up and down your outer lips “Hold on me, it’s for your own good.” So you hold his biceps, while the other grip the cold ground.

It’s the last warning before his middle and forefinger start to abuse your wet core, scissoring, and curling against your spongy walls, you can’t help but let out heavy breaths in between broken whines. The God is brutal, doing this more for his pleasure, your drooling cunt must be a signal of how good he is, rather than your own.

“C’mon darling, touch your clit, it’s screaming for your help” He licks the shell of your ear, while one hand massages one of your breasts still covered by various layers of clothes.

You start to circle your clit, trying to follow the brutal peace of his fingers, but you are way too out of your mind to do that, your hips jerking totally off the peace.

You cum, your loud moan eaten by the blonde deity, his hot tongue sucking and licking yours, tasting himself on you, slapping your pussy every time you tried to escape from his mouth.

“So fucking wet, I bet anyone can understand what we are doing, fuck-“ Kaiser licks his fingers clean “delicious, better than everything you ever cooked” he pops them out from his mouth, and sit up, now in between your legs, holding your ankles and spreading you impossibly wide.

A devious laugh reverberates in the forest “Look at your cunt, squeezing nothing, it’s screaming to be fucked dumb by me, right?”

The shame finally overcomes you, this God is the nastiest being you have ever met. So you shake your head, a sigh escaping your mouth.

“Tsk, after all we’ve done you act all shy now? Just say it. Just say you want to be fucked up by me, a God”

You look at the deity, he pulled your legs down, still spread wide, but at least in a more comfortable position, his ears stand up and his tails too, his face is tinted red, and his plush lips are red and swollen; he would look so pure, if going down, you didn’t notice his throbbing cock against his stomach, in need for attention too.

Maybe you just want to be fucked dumb after all.

You finally nod and the God let out a laughter more similar to the one of a hyena than one from kitsunes.

“I knew you wanted this too.” He lifts again your legs now leaning on his shoulder, his hands planted on your sides, and bullies his cock in, a slight pain makes you shiver, but it is nothing compared to the pleasure his girth gives you.

“Fuck, you take me so well darling” His thrusts are restless like his fingers were, the loud claps of his hips against your plush ass fog your mind even more, while he couldn’t stop watching your tits, still bound but still jumping up and down thanks to his powerful thrusts.

“You fuck me so good- Kaiser!” That must awaken something in him, the deity looks at you, pupils so wide that the deep blue can be barely seen and then you see them, the fangs, getting sharper with each thrust.

“Say it again”

“K-Kaiser! Fuckfuck-“ You can only blabber, your hand now gripping his blond locks, pulling a few hair for every cruel roll of his hip, while his hand let your leg go, locking instead with your hand, still tightening on the ground.

“You want to be filled with my pups mh? Get all swollen with my cum-” His fangs get near your neck, your scent intoxicating his brain, each thrust now off peace.

“Yes, fill me! Fuck-“ You reach your apex, your glands releasing such a sweet scent that the deity has to restrain every fiber of his body not to mark you forever as his.

“Fuck take it all, I want you f-“ The God couldn’t finish, the mere thought made him cum, filling your cunt to the brim. His eyes roll back, the bitchiest moan slips from his open lips, and his tails flex to the sky, probably in tune with the roll of his toes.

After a few heavy breaths, the deity pulls out, and you feel his hot cum slipping down your core, wetting your ass together with your own wetness. He is still in front of you to notice that and push his cum back him, with the same two fingers that stretched you before.

“Don’t make anything slip. This is holy cum, it would be a sin to waste it.” Then he lays down next to you.

“Come again next week, don’t make me wait another month. And bring strawberries, next time we’ll eat them together.”

It is an order, and with your mind still fogged by bliss you can only nod, now hugging his warm body in this cold winter afternoon.

[harlowhockeystick]

22- So High School with Princess and Nolan pleeeeeeeaase 🫶🏻

"you knew what you wanted, and boy you got her" | poetic prompts | warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, chaos, weddings

it was everything they could imagine, even though it was the most stressful day of their life.

the wedding day had finally approached. after almost five years of dating, a year of being engaged, the day arrived. typical wedding day jitters fell upon both parties, the usual last minute thoughts and touch ups, nothing prepared either of them for the massive chaotic crowd that was waiting outside the venue.

even though the bridal party did their best to keep it away from y/n, she knew that the flowers hadn't been delivered, the photographer was an hour late, and the shuttle was also late. as a group they decided to push the wedding back at least an hour to make room for adjustments. but nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to stop her from getting married today.

not even a nervous groom.

"y/n, i need to talk with you for a second." her maid of honor whispered in her ear. she was about to get in her dress, hair and makeup done and set, ready for pictures when the photographer would arrive. stepping to the side in her silk robe and slippers, she felt her stomach drop. god, what now?

"no bullshit. i know we're all done with that today, but you need to talk to nolan. travis texted me saying he is having a panic attack and won't come out of the bathroom. all of this massive chaos is probably freaking him out too," y/n was handed a tissue when she felt tears well up in her eyes, "no no, no crying, it'll all be okay. i'll go with you?"

"no, i can do it. when the photographer gets here y'all go ahead and take pictures and just wait for me."

walking across the venue and where the guys were getting ready, she knocked on the door and was greeted by travis. she made sure all the guys left before talking to nolan. it was like his soul knew she was there before she spoke. a few seconds before she knocked on the door he felt his breathing steady out.

"nolie it's me, please open the door. nobody else is here, just you and me." she softly spoke. he got up, leaning his forehead against the wooden door with a soft thud.

"it's bad luck to see each other before the wedding," his thick accent present in how he spoke, sniffling after he finished. he heard her giggle and slide her slippers across the wooden floor.

"we've had enough bad luck today, so i think we're gonna be okay." he unlocked the door then leaned against the wall, waiting for her to open it. her heart softened when she opened the door, noticed that he'd been crying a lot with tear tracks down his cheeks. his shirt was unbuttoned and his hair was messy. "oh baby," she placed her hand on his cheek, wiping another tear away.

"'m sorry, princess." he took in a sharp breath before letting out another cry. "i just got really nervous, y'know? i mean what if i'm not a good husband? i don't want you to get sick of me and...and leave."

she tucks a lock of loose hair behind his ear, grabbing a tissue from the counter and wiping his cheeks and nose for him. "if i was gonna get sick of you, i would have left by now." she kisses his forehead softly, "remember when we went on our first date? you were so confident, and it was really hot." nolan chuckled, "and when you came to the shop like ten times that next week? you knew what you wanted, and you got her. you got me, and i'm not going anywhere. i'm gonna be your wife, you're gonna be my husband, and we're gonna have a happily ever after together."

nolan places a hand on her cheek as she spoke, a smile on his lips and this time, happy tears filling his eyes. they share a sweet and emotional kiss, one she hopes to recreate in an hour at the altar. they pull apart and she helps nolan fix his tie and to get rid of some of the tear tracks on his cheeks.

"alright, nothing is stopping me from getting married to you today." nolan laughs with his head thrown back, "i'll see you in an hour," she walks to the door of the groomsmen suite, "i'll be the one in a pretty white dress." nolan kissed her on the cheek.

"i'll be the one waiting for you at the altar, princess."

[seraphiism]

❀ ﾟ. ༄ ┊ 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ! ( 𝐩𝐭. 𝐢𝐯 ) ;

characters : cyno / alhaitham / kaveh a/n : hiii welcome back campus encounters where everyone is a clown pt. i / ii / iii

↬ cyno ࿐ ࿔

you don't know what to expect in law school. you really don't. you expect high stakes, tension in the air. you expect competition, harsh professors who purposely try to weed out the "weak" and make the class excruciatingly difficult. you're not entirely wrong, you suppose, but the last thing you would imagine is-- well, cyno.

your first impression is entirely wrong. however, you have also known him for-- you glance at the clock-- two minutes.

a sharp gaze, head held high. he radiates an intimidating aura, holds himself to something more grand. you don't have intentions to make small talk; you're too tired for an 8:30am class, anyway, and you hate to admit that he almost frightens you. the professor runs out for a moment. brief technical issue-- something like that. you're already zoning out.

in that small frame of time, the lecture hall comes to life, fills with a thousand conversations at once. you ignore them all, absentmindedly skimming the syllabus. you fail to see cyno's eyes trained on you. intent. focused.

"i guess there's been a...law-l in this class."

you freeze. something in your fight or flight instinct activates. the voice came from your right. cyno is also on your right. surely that wasn't him, right?

right?

you swallow hard, slowly turn your head to look at him.

god. you hope that wasn't him. 8:32 am and you are subjected to inhumane crimes in your introduction to law class. red eyes bore into your soul. his face is blank. you don't know what to make of this.

"you know. like lull. law-l."

it doesn't work that way, you think, and the exasperation almost meets your visage, but you keep it at bay. can't hurt this stranger's feelings, after all. there's something akin to hope in those crimson hues, barely on the surface, but ever so present.

you purse your lips, unable to figure out this delicate situation. you could change this man's life forever. what if you make this future lawyer feel like a clown? what if he dropped out? you are not being dramatic, by the way.

you purse your lips, tight, utterly amused and defeated by the ridiculous predicament. you stare at each other, dead silent.

you laugh. you don't know why, but you do, and maybe it's because of the way he comes off so serious, maybe it's the way you can practically see the hope that his pun will get a reaction.

you may also be delirious. maybe.

"oh, you are hilarious."

cyno smiles. somewhere, he feels tighnari's soul shrivel in the depths of despair.

"no, i'm cyno."

↬ alhaitham ࿐ ࿔

"oh my god." you do not know how many times you have said this in the past ten seconds. twice? three times? a hundred? ( that wouldn't be logically possible, alhaitham says, so you say it again ). "i'm dying. it's coming. i feel it in my bones."

"what is?"

"death."

alhaitham stares at you, deadpan.

"you are being dramatic."

"i'm sorry. i will do it again."

you don't mind literature analysis, not really. it's fascinating-- the way you piece concepts together, discover hidden meaning in seemingly superficial words. it's much easier when you enjoy said literature itself, but when you don't? you may as well throw yourself into the void. suddenly you cannot read.

metaphor to metaphor, symbolism in the strangest of things ( okay, so the kitchen cupboards were pastel yellow and not white in this house, so what? ), you grow frustrated as a nearing deadline approaches, brain absolutely fried from finals. you have ten pages to write. you have two done ( those two are the title page and reference page. so no, they do not count ).

you're not sure how it came to this-- 4am and you're huddled up with alhaitham in the corner of the library, your forehead against the desk, your fellow classmate casually drinking his fifth coffee as if caffeine has no impact on him. he's much better at writing papers than you are, and in all his glory, decided to help you. kind of.

it's been about two hours since you've been working together, and while you appreciate the help, the lack of sleep is finally getting to you. you're burned out, tired, and truthfully, you know this is worth 30% of your grade, but you're about to calculate what your grade would drop to if you simply did not turn it in.

you close your eyes. wooden desk or not, red imprint on your forehead or not, you're about to pass out, right here and right now, except--

the feeling of his hand against your back, gentle. he leans forward, just the slightest bit, speaks in that quiet yet firm tone.

"if you finish this, i'll ask you out on a date."

you sit up at an alarmingly fast rate, throw alhaitham the most horrified look you can fathom. his expression doesn't change much, but you see that slight curl of the lips.

"disgusting. i can't believe you would pull such things on me."

"because it'll work."

you roll your eyes, pinch his cheek before redirecting your attention to the laptop before you.

what an arrogant fool. absolute annoyance. menace. idiot. you hate him, truly.

"i didn't say it wouldn't work."

( fine. it works. funny how you're suddenly awake and how everything suddenly seems to make sense after he proposes that offer. )

↬ kaveh ࿐ ࿔

there are three things you first notice about kaveh.

one. he is pretty. very pretty.

two. oh my god. look at his back. hello.

three. he's sleeping in the library. he's also drooling on his ... sketches?

four. wait. too many things to notice. whatever. maybe you should wake him?

you consider the thought, unsure. you'd hate to be woken by a stranger in the campus library-- it'd be off-putting, you think. you glance at the sketches, take in the sights of the blueprints. intricate designs. gorgeous, really, even if you don't have the slightest clue about anything related to said field.

you'd hate to work so hard on such a thing and have it ruined by...well, drool. you place your hand on his shoulder, touch light and hesitant, and shake him gently. once. twice. five times?

he's not waking. surely you're not going to shake the life out of this stranger, right? it's about another ten seconds before you almost give up, letting out a long sigh of defeat before leaning down the slightest bit.

you're gonna speak to him, speak in very soft tones-- slowly ease him from slumber. he's gonna wake up, you'll back away, smile in hopes of establishing your friendly intentions, and that'll be it. done. boom.

that's the plan, anyway, but when your face gets a little closer to his, his eyes open suddenly. two seconds of eye contact. shock twists into utmost fear.

kaveh screams, shoots right out of his seat. you also scream. your life flashes before your eyes when you see him instinctively grab his suitcase.

"before you get the wrong idea-- you were drooling all over your sketches, so--"

you don't think this really helps. he's blushing furiously, from embarrassment or anger, you don't know, but now he's glancing at his sketches, mostly unharmed, and oh, the panic sets in so much more. you watch, baffled, as kaveh throws caution to the wind, frantically cleans the desk and recovers what he can.

it's about five minutes of this. you keep silent, watch in awe and more-so of shock at how this all played out until he turns towards you. he takes a deep breath. you can tell he's tired, weariness on his features. you almost feel bad.

"did you manage to salvage it?"

there's a flicker of curiosity at your words, though the fatigue almost swallows it entirely.

"it'll be okay, i think." his shoulders drop. he smiles, slightly forced. "thank you for waking me-- uh, even if it happened that way."

you'd normally say sorry ( as much as you can say it in this situation, anyway ) and go your separate ways, but there's something almost bittersweet about him that brings a heaviness to the heart.

"sorry. i really didn't mean to scare you like that." you swallow your courage, offer a hopeful smile. "do you want to go get coffee? i'll buy. consider it another apology."

and there is something-- a shift, a lightening, an ease, and kaveh's expression seems to relax at your offer.

( yes, you do go out for coffee. it's one of many future caffeine runs, you both call it, and it's the beginning of a chaotic friendship of sorts. )

taglist : @oshitgirlie ╰ ♡ ;; taglist form !!

[hotvinimon]

Sure Cas~

Yandere gym bro x reader

Plot : Saying yes to a hangout unexpected future

Author’s note : The images are not mine. I don not support this kind of behaviour and highly condemn these activities. This kind of behaviour is not tolerated in actual life. Reader is portrayed as pick me girl who is asking for it.

Warnings : MDNI. The images are not mine. Credits to the owner

Join my taglist - Here

Previous

“I’m Casper, and that’s great tho. How about a coffee down the street ?” He offered.

“Sure Cas! I would love to “ you chimed happily. Cas, he loved the sound of it. Seeing you happy and smiling at him makes him all giddy and mushy. He is a strong guy, who is usually stoic and cold, who minds his own business, who doesn’t spare a glance to anyone, who is not feeling all the dark things, who now wants to keep you under his skin, who wants to sweep you off your feet and fly to his home, who wants to keep you with him forever, who feels so overwhelmed and dizzy by all this, Cas~ Cas~ Cas~, only your voice is ringing in his head, who wants to hear that every moment of his life.

“CAS !!! Are you listening ??” a loud voice brings him back to Earth. He sees you eyeing him carefully and leaning dangerously close to his face.

“Oh yes sweetheart, I’m alright. Let’s go” he replied.

At the cafe

The cafe was small and cute, with no souls except a cute barista making drinks.

“Welcome to HahaBoba, what can I get you guys ?” The cute boy chirped. “We would take an iced black coffee and..“ Casper looked over to you for your response “I would like a caramel macchiato” you replied. “ One iced black and one caramel macchiato coming right up”.

You guys Casper paid for your drinks spotted an empty table in the cafe and went there. “So, what do you do y/n ?” Casper asked with a sickeningly sweet smile that you couldn’t help but melt in. “Ohh, I’m fashion designer. What about you ?” You asked. “That’s so cool. I own and operate gym chains in the area.” he replied. “You mean the one where we were working out ? Aren’t there like..some…35 locations where that gym operates ??? O my god!!! That’s so cool!!!” you were totally shocked. “Haha.. yeah that’s not a big thing tho.” he replied with a shy smile and pink pixie dust settling on his cheeks.

“Are you kidding me ?? That’s really so coo-” “Here is your order guys. i hope you like it” you were cut off by the barista who may or may not have received a very sharp death like glare from Casper. “Our orders are here. Let me get those.” dished and dashed without waiting for Casper to reply, with your voluminous and jiggling bouncy assets, which may or may not have caught his eye… may or may not saving the boy’s life.

“here is your iced coffee Cas.” you handed him his drinks and sipped yours making another melodious moan out of your glossy cherry lips. “O my god !! this is so good Cas~. you have to try it.” with that you offered him your drink from which he gladly sipped tasting every bit of your remains drink.

“It’s actually good.” he told you. “Right ??? I told you” you suggested. He couldn’t ignore that flirty tone of yours.

A sharp tune ringed from your phone earning your attention. “Excuse me for a second Cas” you picked up your phone and started talking animatedly. O\And the only thing Casper could focus on was your juicy lips parting and closing, some time sucking sipping the drink, imagining all the evil things they could do to him, maybe ruin his whole life, maybe make him nothing but an obedient pet, maybe…

After good 10 minutes you ended and focused back on your Cas. “I’m so sorry Cas. It was one of my clients. I had really good time with you. But I have to go now. Thanks for the drinks again.” you apologized with a pout on those glossy & juicy lips. And once again Casper was out of his dreams but this time, with a very prominent bulge.

Were you really gonna leave him after causing so much trouble ?? Alas, this is 2024 and not 1918 or something where he could keep you and not a single soul would question.

“That’s alright. I had a really good time as well. How about you give me your number ?? I could help you with everything workout ?? He suggested.

“Really ?? Thank you so much Cas~. That’s so sweet of you” you squealed like a pick me high school girl, handing him your phone and sliding next to him .

"That sounds fantastic," he said, feeling a rush as he entered your number, watching your assets teasingly close to him. You were truly unaware of your effect, weren't you? He wondered.

Not really. And you knew that.

Next

V-Chan’s Dilly Dally

Here is the first case scenario to the poll. I guess this would be the option that would be chosen as a majority. If may make an alternative ending to the other option. And I'm never maybe not never doing poll again. It breaks my heart to say no.

Requests are open.

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