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biscuitsngravie · 4 months

Text

"time's up."

levi x reader

cw: piv, no prep, blowjob, degradation, orgasm denial, rawwwwww

wc: 2,004

Levi is… irritated.

Well, that's the closest to describing the mixture of emotions he’s feeling during this “interaction.”

“Irritated” could best refer to the heat between his legs. The heat that he is praying isn’t visible as he steps behind the desk to sit during the debriefing on the mission. This room is too full of people for you to be such a shameless slut. You wearing that too small top — the one he told you to throw away — and that too small skirt — that he’s sure he threw away — while looking up with… those eyes.

You.

Youyouyouyouyo—

“Ah! And that’s how we make the double decoy! Right, Captain Levi?”

To others his face is deceptively neutral, well, as neutral as a resting bitch face can be. But you, Honee, you know better than anyone else. You’re the only one who notices the extra firm grip he has on his teacup, the cool flame that ignites behind his eyes the way he pointedly avoids meeting your gaze. And surely the squirming from the continuous pressing of your thighs has caught his peripheral at least once or twice.

“Right. That’s it for now. We’ll do a test run in forty-five minutes. Gear up and be ready to leave.” The room empties rather quickly after a quick salute. And of course… you are the last to leave. “Honee.”

You jump out your skin, your back already turned from him, but too far from the door to craft the excuse of not hearing him. Your mouth upturns into a grin that you’re sure would accrue more points towards your impending punishment. So you remain with your back turned to him, answering an all too even voice, “Yes?”

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve.” slow and deliberate footsteps stalk behind you, growing louder than the thrumming in your chest and between your legs. He stops just barely short of touching you, lowering his voice so that it sits as not much more than a gentle purr against your ear. “I expect to see you in the field. Dressed properly.”

He walks around you out the door, presumably to his office to retrieve his gear. It’s only once you hear the click of the door followed by fading footsteps do you finally breathe. You bite your lip and groan, gripping the hem of your skirt to keep from reaching a hand up it instead.

Your feet move faster than your brain, flying to his study. It was always this with you two: some seemingly innocuous thing catches his attention, to which he finds stress relief and solace in your slutty little pussy. Though this time his distress lies with the very one he comes to for comfort (of sorts), and the very thought of it is proving to be the bane of his existence.

After three quick raps, an enthusiastic “Enter,” allows you in. He’d be disgusted at your perverted mind if you admitted that his look of disdain had you nearly crying down your legs. That, punctuated by a curt “What?” has you biting back a small whimper.

“I—” you cut yourself off as you evaluate your best course of action. Outright asking for it has proven effective in the past, but the egregiousness of your behaviour has finally hit you . Before speaking again, you begin racking your brain for a suitable game plan.

Unbeknownst to you, it draws a long pause, to which he prompts, “I don’t have all day.”

His voice makes you flinch as it snaps you back to him out of your cluttered brain. “I’m sorry!” you blurt aloud without much thought.

“I hate liars,” he grunts as he tightens the fastenings on his gear. His hands move methodically over the latches, ensuring he doesn’t slam someone in the face with a cartridge of spare blades that come loose. “Hurry up before—”

“I just!” you shrug as you look off to the side, your face tingling with a warmth as you feel blood rush to your cheeks. “I just wanted some attention, I don’t know,” is finally pushed through in a low mumble.

Levi closes the gap between you two, grabbing your face in his hands to turn you back towards him. When your eyes drift away, he follows their gaze until you’re forced to succumb to his intense eye contact. “Are you saying I don’t give you enough attention?”

Your eyes nearly bug out. “No! It’s just that—”

“If you wanted more attention you could just say that. But no, you decided to be a fucking brat, instead,” he grits. Your eyes swell up a bit, your wires crossed between a growing fear and an intense need.

While you decide which emotion to land on, Levi stalks over to his chair back behind his desk. He spreads his legs and points to the floor. Without even a hint of shame, your feet fold over each other to kneel not too far from the bulge in his pants. Your mouth begins to salivate at the sight, but you will them to make contact with grey ones that hold a cool flame behind their irises.

Levi is nearly impressed with how quickly you take position: your legs folded under you with your hands folded in your lap. It’s easy to see your shameless cleavage from this angle, and part of him passively wonders if you’re overdue for a tit job. He pushes the thought away immediately. No matter how nice his cum looks painting your skin, he needs to focus.

“Go ahead.”

The simple command has you clawing at his belt buckle. Your fingers make quick work of it all, grateful in the way he lifts his hips for you to pull them down a bit. You don’t even care enough to bring them to his ankles, only down to the knee as you begin to try and free his still hardening dick from his boxers. You use the hole in the front to let it spring upwards towards his abdomen. It’s only a second before you’re wrapping your lips around the head, suckling at the slit as you lap up the precum that’s already begun to drip there.

Though he’s silent, the twitch in his cock when he feels you moaning in satisfaction is enough for you. You bob your head a bit, holding the base to keep steady as you swirl your tongue around the shaft. Your neglected clit is only soothed with the feeble rubbing of your thighs. You rock back and forth a bit, feeling the wetness coating your thighs grow.

“Do what you must,” he sighs in faux exasperation, hiding his own arousal in the fingers gripping his chair, “you have my full attention.”

The purr in his voice as he eggs you on goes straight to your core, just like the hand now playing with your clit through your underwear. Unsurprisingly, you’re met with an undeniable wetness, your own arousal having completely drenched the fabric.

Two deft fingers massage your aching clit as you work on him in earnest. You pull away to breathe and pool your saliva a bit, opening your mouth to watch it coat the length of his dick. As much as Levi hates a mess, you’re his favorite one to clean up. Watchful eyes follow you as you trace the prominent vein on the left side of his cock. His nostrils flare as the only sign of his arousal he allows through.

Your own body almost feels as if it’s vibrating with need. Levi’s gaze remains uninterrupted, deceivingly bored if it weren’t for the tension in his jaw. You feel naked under his eyes, for he misses nothing. Goosebumps pimple your skin, the vulnerability that rocks you urges you to cover yourself and incites a newfound search for modesty. The way desperate fingers fight against cotton to finger your leaking pussy definitely doesn’t go unnoticed.

Whether it’s annoyance with the pathetic display before him, or his other head thinking, he waves you off his cock, much to your disappointment. You bite back a whine, confused on your infraction, yet trying to avoid another. His voice breaches right through your developing spiral. “Sit.”

Perplexed, you tilt your head and adjust your posture. “I am…”

His facial expression doesn’t change. After a few moments you process the command and excitedly climb into his lap. After a few moments of maneuvering yourself around his gear to properly straddle his lap. Arms cradle his neck in glee, but he lets himself all but be pulled into a kiss. “You have fifteen minutes to get yourself off.”

You begin to open your mouth to protest, but the look he gives you kills any argument you could muster.

Do I make myself clear?

Fifteen minutes.

How much to spend on prep? On stretching? Is worth it to tease yourself a bit or—

“Fourteen.”

“Levi!” you shriek in a mini panic. A grip on your chin ends your oncoming tantrum. Fix your tone. Your voice gets smaller now, meek. “It’s not fair…” you mumble.

“Now you care about fair?”

“I just—”

“For someone closing in on thirteen minutes, you sure spend a lot of time talking.”

“Levi please,” you start getting worried now. You keep your voice hushed, but maintain your urgency.

“Please what?”

Bingo. You’ve won.

The poutiest of lips. The truest of doe eyes. The vulnerability found in an unabashedly neediest of voices. “Can you fuck me?”

Levi’s hand is over your mouth in flash. Momentary confusion is interrupted by a burning between your legs, your cry muffled by a thick layer of calluses. Tears prickle your cheeks, your sniffle all but dying in his palm. You clench uncontrollably around him as you register that he’s bottomed out in one swoop.

Running his other hand up and down your back, he lets your mouth go free as he tucks your face into his neck. He saves the comment on the mess you’re making there as he repositions his hands to your hips. He lifts you up and…

“This is what you wanted,” he cooes.

Slam.

“You wanted attention, huh?” he scoffs.

Slam.

“Bullshit.”

His thrusts speed up, the clanking of his equipment joining the cacophony of sounds the two of you are making; the papping of your asscheeks against his pants; your sniffles twisting into groans; his intermittent grunts as he listens to the wet sounds of your pussy taking him over and over and—

Fuck!

“You’re a fucking riot. Couldn’t survive without it for a week.” he curses to himself when he hears you mewl, every decibel going straight to his dick. “Putting this on. What do you have to say for yourself? Ah?”

He pounds into you from below, his gear rustling erratically as he forces his hips to meet yours. A quick smack to your ass wakes you up beyond your wanton moans. “Ah! I-I…” your mind starts to melt when he comes down to a slow grind, dragging his thick cock along your abused, gummy walls.

He grabs a fistful of you r hair to pull you back. Puffy and weary-eyed, your lip trembles as you futility try to gather your thoughts. “Don’t cry now. You weren’t crying when you put this shit on.”

“L-Levi, I—”

He stops you with a hand in your face and checks the time. Without much ado, slides you off his lap, not sparing you so much as a glance wen you wince. “Time’s up.”

“Levi!” you shriek, entirely too loud.

“Volume,” is his only warning as he tucks himself into his pants. He grabs a spare handkerchief to clean where you leaked out and prays it’s not noticeable.

“What am I supposed to—”

“You were supposed to get yourself off, you understand?” his tone sharp, only surpassed by his gaze. “Not my fault you’re a faulty little cockslut and got distracted.”

He leaves you to yourself, not before smirking when he sees the dripping between your legs. Levi hates messes, but this is one he can get behind.

an: i tried something new. i'm gonna try again soon. after this is true form s*kuna x reader cause im a monsterfucker first before a fraudkuna hater, so ig ill be putting my whole jordussy into it 😭

taglist: @honeeslust @blkkizzat @arlerts-angel @halobuns

#jordussy #jordussy speaks #levi x reader #levi smut #levi ackerman #aot smut #attack on titan smut #aot x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you

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kisskissbanggang · 6 months

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Disavowed - pt. 2

[5.5k Words/20min. Read - Priest!Chris x Reader - NSFW/Smut - Church, Your Mind is Playing Tricks on You, Confrontations, Something Feels Off, Catholic Guilt, Priest Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Truck Sex, I Swear This is a Halloween Series]

[a/n: finally time to get halloween cranked up to speed 💕 ty to @magicficwriting and @therhythmafterthesummer for beta reading 💗]

[Part 1 | Come Say Hi!]

It felt forbidden to be in a room full of people and be the only one to know that Christopher, Father Bang, was a disgusting hypocrite.

The day of your realization had been Sunday, obviously. It was now Thursday, after school, and you were all crowded into the modest boardroom next door to the faculty lounge of Pinewood Falls Prep. The walls were probably supposed to be white, if it weren’t for decades of wear and cigarette smoke. Even if the smell didn’t persist, the resulting hue of curdled cream lingered.

“So that settles it. It is generous of you to step up, dear… Dear?”

An elbow gently dug into your own at the conference table. You were so distracted.

Your gaze swung to your side to identify who just nudged you, when you recalled that Jisung was the one who so politely saved you a seat. Reverend Han, you had learned, was the other young man that helped Father James serve mass alongside Chris.

That creep.

Chris, that is. Not Jisung… although you had to admit that you weren’t exactly in love with how polite the deacon was.

“Dear…?”

You finally snapped out of your brooding then, finding Sister Judith rolling her eyes at the front of the room.

“Poor lamb must be sleeping with her eyes open,” Father James chuckled. To your chagrin, Chris laughed along. You wanted to shout it out at the whole room right then, just what a liar and a fraud the deceptively handsome priest was.

“I was saying,” Sister Judith reiterated, “that I know there’s a litany of work left in the wake of Jacqueline’s sudden departure, but that it’s generous of you to volunteer and step up to take it on, dear.”

“I did…?” you murmured out loud, stricken with disbelief. Jisung patiently nodded to confirm it for you.

To say that Sister Judith’s assistant left suddenly was an understatement. When you arrived at work early on Monday morning, her desk behind yours, in front of the Sister’s office, was empty. Every notepad, pen, and paperclip was gone, as if no one had ever occupied the space in the first place. Sister Judith wouldn’t tell you why Jacqueline left, but you supposed it was none of your business. At the beginning of today’s meeting, Father James had simply said it was a shame, but you were surprised that no one at all seemed to particularly care that the young woman had vanished so abruptly.

“You won’t take on everything, of course,” Sister Judith clarified. “You’ll be taking care of Jacqueline’s filing duties and backing up the receptionist when Roberta is unavailable. That’s all.”

“What about the lunchtime study group in the library?” Jisung suddenly asked. “Jacqueline was running it.”

“You can take that on if you have the time, Reverend,” suggested Sister Judith.

Jisung slouched back in his chair, as though he suddenly regretted saying anything in the first place. “Oh, uh,” he scrambled shyly, “that’s no problem, I guess. I just don’t know if the kids will take a liking to me–”

“Not like Christopher, you mean,” Father James laughed heartily, clapping a hand on the priest’s shoulder. “They practically flock to him.”

Chris humbly waved him off. “I hardly have anything worthwhile to teach; it’s just gym,” he denied. “I make myself available; that’s all. You have plenty to teach! Make yourself available, Jisung, and they’ll flock to you, too.”

The staff all but fawned over the platitude. Your pen’s barrel creaked in your hand, you were so close to snapping it in half. That pretty boy golden child had everyone wrapped around his little finger and it made you livid.

You left the staff meeting in a daze, trying to figure out why on Earth Chris refused to acknowledge you with any ounce of recognition. The whole ordeal felt like he was taunting you, and it was on the verge of working. There was no way it wasn’t him that you’d slept with. You remembered far too much of the whole night.

Maybe it was because your pride was admittedly hurt. You weren’t typically one for one-night stands like the one you were positive you engaged in, but the idea had intrigued you enough to want it. Now it just felt like you were being punished, some cosmic joke at your expense because you acted on your desires for once and now you couldn’t get it out of your head.

Indeed, even though you’d gone to your interview and mass with only an inkling of what exactly had transpired on Friday night, that fuzzy recollection had since turned high definition and was currently blasting at full volume in a maddening loop in your head. You had tried a divey little bar in Briar Bay, only a thirty minute drive away. There were no bars in Pinewood Falls from what you could tell, so the short trip seemed worth it. The bar had been a dank hole in the wall, a cozy hangout popular with the boat crews and mussel farmers that worked the bay. You’d noticed Chris before he ever saw you. He wasn’t wearing his clerical collar that night, obviously. Instead, you were drawn to this man sitting alone at a table in the corner, with the brim of his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. You had left him alone and minded your own business at the bar…

Until a beer appeared in front of you before you could even start a tab. The bartender pointed at the sender.

Right at Chris.

Here, now, today, you were feeling self-conscious and self-righteous all at once while you grabbed your bag from where you’d stowed it in your desk, back in the main office. It had been a long day of school, and the weekly staff meeting made this one feel even longer. Chris had shared one single flash of recognition with you at mass on Sunday, but never again in the days since. He had to be too ashamed, you were positive. Grouchy was an understatement for how you were feeling. You were on edge. All week, you strained to make pointed eye contact with this man, see if you could catch him replicating that explicitly guilty glint in his eye that he had during church, and he was staunchly refusing.

Even over dinner, you drifted, like a wraith, into the dining room of the boarding house and barely paid attention to your perfectly charming and sweet housemates. Seungmin and one of your fellow boarders, Felix, had worked so hard on making a gorgeous dinner, but you were so plainly pissed to the point that you couldn’t properly taste food. The worst part, honestly, was that you weren’t solely thinking of outing this disgusting man.

You were plagued by how much you couldn’t stop thinking of your night together. Not only were you burdened with this miserable secret, but you were the only one who knew what this man looked like under his clothes, the way he acted in bed. He was horrendously attractive. He was regretfully skilled. Those juvenile little hickeys he left all over you took days to vanish. In fact, most of them finally faded just the previous morning–something you’d never experienced before. The longest a love bite had ever stuck around on your skin was maybe three, four days, but five felt like a ridiculously long time. It was only adding to the way you couldn’t get the picture of Chris’ bare chest or carved hips out of your head, couldn’t shake the feeling of his soft lips or his rough stubble.

One stupid hickey remained–angry and red and framed with teeth marks–right between your cleavage. More like a bite than anything.

This was going on far too long.

It was Friday. Your housemates probably thought you were sick in the head. They’d been so cordial and polite, trying as much as they reasonably could to get you to open up and share a little, maybe unload some of the burden you were clearly carrying. The previous week, before you’d ever slept with Chris by accident, you were gladly chatting and helping with housework, staying up late to wash dishes with the boys and sip iced tea on the porch, wrapped up in sweaters when the breeze picked up.

You almost felt ill. More than the guilt, more than the shame, more than the way you were convinced everyone knew you were complicit in Father Chris’ sin, you hated that you wanted to be right. The way he ignored you was too practiced, too aloof. What hurt more than him not showing any guilt was him not even showing any hint of knowing you existed in any capacity outside of school. You tried like hell to keep your head down, get your work done, try to confront the pile of Jacqueline’s filing left unfinished.

It was the damned filing that did you in, ultimately. An approved stack of staff schedules now sat at the top of the pile, unearthed after you made some progress in your fastidious sorting and storing. Fr. Bang, Christopher was staring right at you, begging you to glance at the piece of paper. Planning: 2nd Period.

You wished you would move on and let it go, but you peeked at the clock on the wall. It was almost a quarter after 9 o’clock. There was plenty of time.

You would do it.

No, you wouldn’t. You would work through the mountain of filing.

Yes, you would. You would confront this asshole once and for all and get him to admit that he recognized you, that he was disgusting and immoral.

The hallway was crushingly empty as you walked to the gym. Your shoes clicked loud on the aged linoleum floor. It was disarming, being this hyper-aware and critical of your own actions. Something resembling embarrassment clung to you like static.

Why were you so obsessed with doing this?

Walking into the gym, you almost chickened out when you found it empty, even though that was the entire point of catching him during his planning period in the first place. You scanned the basketball court and the stands extended from the wall, finding no sign of life and abashedly turning right back around to leave.

“Wait, I’m here!” rang out a voice behind you. “Can I help you with something?”

You warily turned back to face the voice, finding it to belong to no other than Father Chris.

He smiled softly, kindly attempting to keep you from running off. “That’s right,” he nodded with recollection. Your gut twisted. “You’re the new office manager, right?”

That was it. This was your breaking point. “You’re kidding, right?” you scoffed. Chris’ eyes widened in bewilderment.

“I’m… what?” he asked. “Are you alright, dear?” He stepped closer, and flinched when you smacked away his outstretched hand.

“That’s rich!” you cackled. “How long are you going to keep lying? How long until you stop pretending you don't know me?”

Chris shook his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, dear,” he said. “What are you telling me? I’m afraid I don’t understand–”

“Seriously?!” you balked. “You’re going to act like we’ve never met?!”

“We met before?” the priest blinked at you, maybe even a little bashful. Flattered, even. “Maybe in a dream, but I don’t think so.”

You huffed so hard, so affronted by the response, that it could’ve been mistaken for smoke spilling out of you. “That is some nerve you have, asshole–”

“Hey,” Chris said sternly. “Calm down.”

And you did. God, you hated that you did. Worse yet, you weren’t even sure why you calmed down at all. The energy from your outburst was simply sapped out of you in its entirety.

“Do you want to talk?” Father Chris offered. “It seems you have a lot on your mind.”

Unsure what else to do, you indignantly folded your arms. “Fine. Yes. I’d like to talk.”

He nodded seriously. “Okay, I’ll be more than glad to. I have a meeting about a baptism here in ten minutes, but how about tonight? Somewhere we can have some privacy.”

“Oh? And where’s that?” you impatiently asked. If he suggested the Trawler, you’d scream right there and then.

“I live in Briar Bay for a couple more weeks,” he explained. As if you didn’t already know this. As if he didn’t tell you on Friday night. “How about Reflections? It’s a nice little cafe I like.”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, unsure. All the energy you originally had to pursue this issue was gone, vanished and leaving a vacuum in its wake that made it difficult to proceed. However, the idea of getting that confession was still too sweet.

“Fine,” you agreed, almost defiant, like you weren’t giving him exactly what he wanted. “Okay.”

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

Not okay.

The worst part of Briar Bay being a “short” 30-minute drive away meant that every five minutes, you were wondering what the hell you were hoping to achieve. What, Chris would admit what he did and you would be satisfied? You would simply leave? Were you going to turn him in and humiliate him, really punish him for being so terrible? What exactly did you want here?

And still you were thinking about how gorgeous he was in bed. This still weirded you out. You explicitly recalled hardly being able to remember anything during your interview with Sister Judith earlier that week, but days later and now you could perfectly recall the cute way he scrunched his eyes shut when he climaxed? That queasy feeling settled in your gut again. By the time you turned off the small highway into Briar Bay, you almost felt feverish. Nauseous and everything. You were nervous trying to pick out each business. The Trawler passed by on your left down the main road, but finally you caught it. Reflections was apparently a sweet little coffee shop at the end of the main street, the last business next to the main route down to the bay. And out front, sipping from a paper cup in a cardboard sleeve on the patio?

Father Chris had the audacity to be the picture of serenity. His shitty powder blue truck was parked out front. He was dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a sweater. A ball cap was pushed low over his brow, just like the week before.

Fucking creep.

You nervously pinched at the hem of your top. In a move of pure desperation to hold any power you had left, you put on the exact outfit you’d been wearing Friday night last week. A crop top of reasonable length, a belted pair of cute jeans, some casual sneakers, and a cardigan because it was getting a bit chilly out. You weren’t totally sure what you were looking to get here, but maybe this would be the element that finally got that look of recollection you were so hungry for.

As you should’ve predicted, he wasn’t even outwardly excited to see you when you approached. Just a glance and a soft smile before he motioned to the chair across from him. You stiffly took a seat, when Chris pointed out toward the cliffs looking over the bay, up the hill from the cafe. “So you’re new, right? You just moved to town?”

He waited patiently until you silently nodded before continuing. “That’s Barrett Bluffs. There used to be a church there until it burnt down a hundred years ago. I just noticed that there’s actually a square patch of dirt up there. Maybe it really did burn down, except the story is it spontaneously combusted. The local kids used to dare each other to look over the edge.”

“Why?” you asked, attempting to remain nonplussed.

Chris laughed into his drink. “I guess there’s a cave on the cliff face or something. The local legend is that a vengeful spirit lives in it. I dunno. Kids are wild.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, distant while your gaze was still fixed on the square patch of earth at the top of the bluff. “They’re pretty imaginative.”

“What’d you want to talk about?” he suddenly asked. You snapped out of it.

“I just don’t understand why you’re pretending you don’t remember me,” you simply stated.

Chris shrugged helplessly. “Because I don’t? Would you like me to get you something? Their chai here is delicious.”

You felt like your face was about to crack into a thousand tiny pieces. Every single option ran through your mind at once, tripping over each other. Really, you could argue this some more, or just leave it alone… but you did neither of these things. Instead, you got out of your chair and simply walked back up the street. Chris hopped to his feet and jogged after you, finishing his drink in the process and tossing it in a garbage can.

“Where are you going?!” he frantically asked you.

He followed you all the way to the Trawler, where the bartender waved hello to you, driving you even more mad than you already were. You grabbed Chris by the elbow and practically threw him into the chair in the back corner. He watched, bewildered, as you pointed at the bar.

“I was there,” you heatedly explained, “you were here. You bought me a drink and I came over to sit down. You said you liked my perfume and I said I liked your cologne, and we had a great time, and you kissed me in the back parking lot out there in front of your truck before you offered to give me a ride back to your place!”

How you remembered all these finer, non-explicit details, you had no idea, but they were all clear as day all of a sudden. Chris, meanwhile, was beet red in the face.

“Uh, er,” he floundered.

And there it was.

That tiny, miniscule little flex of muscles in his face, his eyes widening a millimeter.

A fucking confession of guilt if you ever saw one, you were convinced.

Was this what it was like to go crazy?

Except he doubled down. Chris squared his shoulders and smiled that same humble smile. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I really have no clue what you’re talking about. But for what it’s worth, I’m having a nice time. You pretty much tricked me into a date. Smart play, too, since it’s the only way I can enjoy one.”

One final option lay in front of you, one you were finally angry enough to use it. You bluntly yanked the neckline of your blouse down, exposing that one last hickey, the one that looked more like you were attacked by some animal. Chris’ eyebrows raised in surprise, his focus darting to where the mark was and away.

“Still insisting I’m crazy? You're a real piece of work, Father,” you scowled. “Hope you're pleased with what you got.”

You let go of your top, grabbed your bag, and stormed out of the bar through the back door, the nearest entrance and into the small parking lot there just so you could get some fresh air. An uncomfortable heat surged up your back and radiated through your chest like a fever. You were nearly on the verge of furious tears. Squeezing between two pickups, you were so distracted that the rearview mirror of one of the vehicles smacked your shoulder. Fuck Chris. You would turn him in, maybe even before mass on Sunday–

Rushed footfalls on the gravel of the parking lot startled you, and you turned with only enough time to gasp when you found Chris there, his hands already cupping your face and pulling you in for a heated kiss. You barely had time to register all of this between the priest panting hot, desperate in your mouth, his cologne and aftershave making your olfactory senses tingle. His lips were still so soft. And then you remembered that this was disgusting.

The force of your slap against Chris’ cheek was more of a shove, getting him the hell off of you. You found yourself leaning back against the bumper of the truck you’d squeezed past, still holding your hand out to keep him back.

Chris massaged his cheek and jaw where you’d hit him. He was still panting. “I hate this,” he said with a firm shake of his head. He wasn’t even looking at you. “I hate this so fucking much.”

The cursing would’ve surprised you if you weren’t already plagued with memories of him cursing over and over again the previous week.

“What?” you rhetorically asked. “What do you hate, exactly? I thought you didn’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Would you knock it off?” Chris snapped at you. You leaned back against the bumper of the truck, as much as the metal surface would allow. “We both know I’m fucking lying, I’m lying through my goddamn teeth!” he brokenly ranted. “But what I want to know is how the hell do you remember so much?!”

“Am I not supposed to?” you asked, uneasy.

Father Chris shook his head again. “No, because I barely remember anything. All I know is… is–”

“What?” you prodded. You stood up straight and took a tentative step closer. “What is it?”

“I want you, and I fucking hate it,” he spat. “I shouldn’t be tested like this. I don’t deserve this! I’m stronger than this.”

These were more admissions than you were even hoping to achieve. Yes, Chris remembered sleeping together. Yes, Chris was disgusting and immoral, and wanted more.

You didn’t feel triumphant. You didn’t feel victorious.

You felt smug. A craving erupted inside you, swallowing you whole.

You wanted to punish him. You wanted him to live in that fraught feeling of deplorable desire.

“Are you?” you questioned him. A smirk pulled at the corner of your mouth. “Are you stronger than that?”

Chris glared at you, brows furrowed as he digested the fact that you were blatantly mocking him now. It was difficult to assess his next move, but you didn’t have to wait long for another hint, because he simply took that option away and flatly answered you. Chris reached for you again, grabbing at your sleeve and pulling you close so he could kiss you again.

And this time, you let him.

When you weren’t almost gagging on his tongue in your throat, you adored how pissed he looked just kissing you. By now, you were dealing with his hands, too, desperately grabbing and squeezing you. He even began kissing your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin and nipping at you until you pushed him off again. You both caught your breath for a moment, but Chris nonetheless grabbed at your hips again.

“I’m not letting you mark me up again,” you scolded him.

He nodded obediently, despite already kissing your neck some more. “Sorry,” he panted against you, “I just, I need more– We’ll get in my truck, okay? And–”

“What,” you grinned, taking a chance to softly place intermittent kisses of your own on his throat. “You going to be a coward and hide me away at your place again?” From this vantage point, you could see he was wearing a small, golden crucifix just under his sweater. Cute.

“Don’t want to?” he asked, fumbling in his pockets while he let you kiss him. “That’s fine, it’s dark enough, just in the truck is fine–”

You raised an eyebrow in questioning. “But you parked back at the–”

“What? No,” he interrupted. “It’s right here; come on.”

That made no sense. Chris’ wreck of a truck was back at Reflections–

But the metallic clatter of a keyring stopped your line of thinking in its tracks. Chris backed you up to the passenger side door and unlocked it before he scooped his hands under your ass, eagerly hoisting you up onto the bench seat. He was already working your belt until you grabbed the collar of his sweater and pulled him into the truck with you. You refused to let him lead here. If he was questioning his fortitude, you’d make it exponentially worse.

Chris wrestled with you a bit to get comfortable in the cab of his truck, ending up sitting in the passenger seat with you straddling his lap. He was incredibly hard between your legs. When you worked your hips down against his, the friction drew the deepest, most regretful moans out of him that you’d ever heard. His strong hands clutched at your hips until you finally unbuckled your belt yourself. He leapt at the opportunity, still kissing your lips, your jaw, your neck, but now his starving touch drifted down from where it’d moved to your breast, down to slip under your panties and between your legs. You gasped and sighed in pleasure, his long fingers rubbing your sensitive clit before dipping into your wetness.

“Fuck,” Chris gruffly cursed again, “you feel so good.”

“You still hate it?” you teased, almost laughing when he nodded pathetically.

“You’re so bad for me,” he whined. “I just want more.”

You almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

Chris watched in the dim of his truck, only illuminated by a couple security lights behind the old bar as you knelt up so you could shimmy your jeans down, and off one leg. You sat back down on his lap, your damp heat resting back against him but going no further. He looked up at you expectantly.

“Well?” you grinned. “Go on. Make your decision.”

A hesitance sank in between both of you while he considered this, his eyes glazed over and shining. You didn’t blame him. Truth be told, you were surprised with yourself, too. You weren’t typically one for such intensity, but there was something about holding this much control that you were getting satisfaction from in an unexpected way. You scolded yourself for a moment for coming on too strong.

Until Chris warily removed his hat and lifted his sweater off along with his undershirt, revealing his crucifix sitting on his bare collarbones. He set these on the driver seat beside you both, before his hands now wavered at his belt buckle. Father Chris quietly sucked in a breath, as if it were a long, drawn out gasp, astounded at his own actions when he unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans. You could feel the velvety, smooth head of his erection up against you. He paused again.

You pressed your lips to his temple, a tender little reprieve in the middle of this regrettable tryst. “Did you make your decision?”

Chris could be felt nodding before his hands pushed your hips down against his own. You both groaned then, his gorgeous cock slowly stretching you around him. He sucked a breath in between his teeth. “Fuck, baby,” he gritted out. “Feel how you’re opening up for me, it’s so goddamn good–”

You loved the way blasphemy sounded coming from him while you adjusted to him inside you, enough that you immediately took over and began riding him, never giving him a chance to suggest it or try taking the lead. Again, if he was going to decide to be immoral, you were going to really throw that into perspective.

Chris cried out loud in pleasure when you dropped your hips down onto him and began working his erection into your depths, trying to search out that good angle while the priest was lost in the moment. He was so fucking hot like this, whimpering under you while his thrusts met yours, with no one to blame but himself by this point.

Right?

There was one second where you began to doubt yourself, maybe wondering if you were taking this too far, but Chris interrupted you. Even though you were hellbent on not letting him take control, you couldn’t bring yourself to resist when he grabbed onto your thighs and helped you grind into him instead of riding him, helping you climb that high you were chasing. Worse yet, he pulled down the neckline of your blouse like you’d brazenly done back at the bar, except he went further by pulling your breast to his mouth. His tongue lewdly ran over the bite mark you never managed to get rid of, but he kept his teeth off of you, opting instead to wrap his lips around your hardened nipple, overstimulating you just long enough to coax an orgasm out of you. It hit you hard and suddenly, a sharp gasp punctuating that blissful release as you shuddered around his erection still grinding into you. Chris’ actions got a bit more desperate now, goaded on by how you swept your fingers through his hair before clutching on, reeling his head back onto the back of the bench seat and riding him harder, your rhythm relentless and pushing him closer and closer over the edge.

“It’s good, right?” you sweetly asked. “You gonna cum for me, Chris?”

“Fuck, hold on,” he croaked, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy before you gently pulled his hair again. “Gimme a second, we can’t–” he pleaded, all pouty and doe-eyed, “goddamn, hold on, I can’t–”

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

But he did.

At least, you thought he did.

Because, as if nothing had happened at all, the next thing you knew you were waking up in a bed that wasn’t yours. It was his again. The way you seemed to know this instantaneously didn’t ring as odd to you when it probably should have, but there was far too much to be confused by going on at once. How did you even get here?

You blearily sat up, the crust in your eyes making it even more difficult to see, along with how dark it was. The bed was empty but you knew it was his. You tried to make out the rest of the room, get further confirmation of this fact you already knew, until you found your bag on the floor. Your phone was on the brink of death when you fished it out, but it was still able to report that it was five in the morning.

The weird thing, at least in your mind, was that you were clothed and alone. You did just fuck Chris in the parking lot behind the Trawler, didn’t you?

… Didn’t you?

It felt like you did. But, even now, fully clothed in this veritable stranger’s bed…

It felt like it’d been a vivid dream.

You slipped out of the bed, not even covered in a blanket. Your shoes were still on your feet. The room was a bit cold, enough to wake you up a bit faster. Judging by the view out the window, Chris lived in an upper floor unit, likely a private walk-up like many of the old houses in the area seemed to be updated into. This house was old indeed, listening to the creak of the floorboards as you warily walked out of the bedroom and found yourself in a small kitchen. A frayed cord hung from the ceiling. Following it upward, it was attached to an old attic door.

“I wouldn’t pull that if I were you,” came a voice, bringing you back to the oddity at hand. There was Chris, sitting at his tiny kitchen table. He almost looked sick, his cheeks pale. You were certain if you felt his forehead, it’d be clammy. A mug with three tea bag strings hanging out of it was clutched in his hand, shaking the smallest bit for you to see. “The attic door is broken,” he explained, not looking at you. “The super is supposed to take care of it.”

You looked up at the door again. It didn’t appear broken, but you left it alone.

Chris grimaced into his mug. “Did you and I… Did we hook up again?”

You nodded, a gesture you weren’t sure Chris saw but he nodded back nonetheless.

“I shouldn’t be wanting this,” he frowned.

You were at a loss of what to say. Instead, you comfortingly ran your fingers through his hair. Truth be told, the fact that neither of you were freaking out over not concretely remembering this was probably the least weird aspect of it all. You both had your own, much bigger concerns.

Chris took a sip of his tea. His hand twitched, making him sloppy. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m better than this. I’m not supposed to want you.”

“I’m sorry,” you weakly attempted.

The young priest raised an eyebrow at you. His eyes were bagged and red, bloodshot like he hadn’t slept in days. “No, you’re not.”

It wasn’t a denial. It was a diagnosis.

And he was right.

Chris betraying his vows and giving into you was the most potent adrenaline rush you’d ever experienced. That was the case the first time, and it was the case now.

And if he didn’t stop you, you’d make his life a living hell until he repented.

#neverendingdreams #straykidsland #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you

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voltageapps · 7 months

Text

Liar! EN Closure Announcement

If you're a big fan of Liar! Series and have read all event stories and sequels, we need your help for the archive! Please contact us via Discord 🙏

Fyi, the JP app has been suspended since a year ago and it was amazing that the EN app was not affected that time, especially because there has been no updates for more than 5 years(?)

The stories will be added in Love 365 most likely, so let's wait for them to come back! It's not as interactive as the original standalone app but at least we could still enjoy the stories!

PS: I really hope the limited Liar! events will be available as special stories because I missed so many events in the past sobs. And who knows if we will also get the official translations for S4 and S5 in the future?

#voltageinc #voltage inc #voltage otome #otome romance #otome #otome game #liar uncover the truth #liar office deception #liar scheming socialites #shutdown

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everlastingbutterfly · 1 year

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What would you say was the easiest chapter/liar thingie to figure out out of all the games? I'm guessing it'd be one of the 1st liars but maybe there are super easy ones in games i haven't played 😭

Hmm I'll definitely miss some but for me the one that sticks out most as being the easiest was Doubt season 4 9th liar which was surprising since usually the last liar is meant to be very difficult. I remember picking that one early on and being like "do I really have the answer or am I being misled?"

Then also Liar Season 1 (uncover the truth) 3rd liar and perhaps Liar Season 2 (office deception) 2nd liar.

#liar! voltage inc #liar!#liar uncover the truth #liar! uncover the truth #liar! office deception #liar office deception #liar! office #doubt #ダウト #ask #anon

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wolfie-bee · 2 years

Text

The lies we tell

read it here as a twitter fic

Lena blinks slowly, eyes trained on the way that Kara fidgets with the phone in her hands followed by the deceptive glasses on her face.

She'd just informed her of the sale of Catco, told her that she'd needed the capital for a new venture, watched in rising horror as Kara believed those sweet honeyed lies that felt like bile on her tongue.

"I was a coward, and I hope that you don't feel I've made you out to be too much of a fool by keeping you in the dark." The words continue to pour out of her, and her fingers tremble where they curl tightly against the slip of her blazer.

Kara's eyes close for a second, sadness and disappointment evident on her face, and Lena can't help the sick satisfaction of retribution mounting like a festering wound in her heart.

"Lena, no, of course not, I -" Kara cuts in. The words tremble in the air around them like she has more to say, more to admit, but Lena doesn't let her, can't let her admit her truth without hammering at the fine cracks that Kara had so dutifully helped create in their friendship.

"You're my best friend," Lena says, the truth of it like a weight on her chest, and the guilt for wanting Kara to feel an inkling of the heartbreak she feels nearly locks the rest of those words behind her teeth. But she presses on, clawing nails into her own palms as she smiles, a strained thing that doesn't reach her eyes. "and here I go once again proving that you are more virtuous than I am, but I never did purport to be a saint."

"Lena." Kara swallows roughly, and there's the curious note of rising tension that she can feel like a lasso tied tightly around her heart. Kara's eyes ensnare hers, a silent plea in them that Lena pretends not to see. "You know what actually, there is something that I want to talk to you about."

This should be it, she thinks bitterly, this should be the moment where Kara tells her her secret.

Lena leans back, expression soft, open, a carefully curated mask that Kara should be able to see through. But she doesn't.

Kara expels a shaky wisp of air, mouth forming words that don't come and fingers squeezing that phone in her hands to the point where there's an audible crack. The sound of it is like a gunshot in Lena's quiet office and Kara chuckles, awkward and strained.

A short silence engulfs them, and Lena doesn't know what expression her face forms as Kara smiles and proceeds to instead tell her the details of another story she's been chasing.

Lena loves those, loves that Kara always finds the time to update her on the various topics she writes for her articles, loves the animated way that Kara talks about the people and places of interest to her stories and the brief but always exciting mentions of Kara's unexpected meetings with National City's super-powered heroine.

But this time Lena knows two truths. One: She is stupidly in love with her best friend and two: Kara Danvers is a liar.

Lena supposes that she should have expected it, after all, she's been lied to her entire life, betrayed by the ones she trusted would do no harm. Why does this keep happening? Why does everyone that she loves…

She clenches her jaw, anger flaring like fine points of pain behind her ribcage and her beating heart threatening to burst from her chest as her brother's last words fill her mind.

Kara looks up at her then, like she could hear the rapid change in its rhythm. And Lena realizes belatedly that yes, of course she can. And she hates her just a little more for it. Just a little for hiding, a little for lying, a little for trying to befriend her as both personas, a little for sowing seeds of mistrust in the friendship they'd so lovingly crafted over three fucking years.

"Lena, are you okay?" Kara asks slowly, eyebrows pinching together into that concerned endearing frown. Lena has to resist the urge to reach out and smooth her thumb over it, trace the lines until they flatten beneath her fingertips and Kara flushes prettily beneath her touch.

No, she wants to say, scream it really, but her throat is dry and angry tears burn behind her eyes. There's the soft wash of adoration burning in those eyes born of different stars, and Lena doesn't know how much of it is fake, how much is pretend, how much of Kara Danvers is a carefully curated mask. How much of her best friend does she truly not know?

Lena shoots off the chair, turning away from Kara when a traitorous tear breaks free from her lashes and rolls down her face. She swipes it away with the sleeve of her blazer but Kara's behind her in a flash, a minutiae of displaced air that's almost undetected as warm hands land on her shoulders, burning through her blouse and branding her skin.

"Lena." It's whispered softly, the syllables like honey on Kara's deceptive tongue but Lena's heart flutters at the sound, more tears breaking free from her lash line. A vein flickers in her jaw at the effort it takes to hold her words back but her body betrays her in the tremor that rushes along the curve of her spine when Kara's large comforting hands slide along the tense line of her shoulders and the cold tip of her nose touches Lena's neck. "Tell me what's wrong." She pleads and the concern in her voice is almost Lena's undoing.

Lena turns in her embrace, but the words die in her throat when she sees the look on Kara's face. There's a frown that's bordering on a pout, the blue of her irises so sad that it drags the air from Lena's lungs and she's annoyed at herself for caring, annoyed at Kara for pretending, annoyed at her heart for loving Kara Danvers to the point of destruction.

Kara's hands move to frame her face, thumbs a gentle sweep against her skin as they catch the rogue tears that escape against Lena's will.

The touch is unexpected and Lena almost jerks away but she tries to breathe through the contact as Kara immediately closes the miniscule distance between them, firm body pressing into Lena's and cheeks a darling rosy red. Lena flushes beneath her arduous stare, her longing for this woman making itself known in the harsh painful thud in her chest.

"Lena," her name is a soft careless whisper, those beautiful eyes filled with despair so deep she can barely breathe beneath the weight of them. "What's wron-"

Lena doesn't let the rest of the sentence escape. After all, she'd already admitted to being a coward. So, instead of answering, she leans in the rest of the way and kisses Kara.

The kiss is unexpected, that much is obvious by the gentle gasp that Kara makes against her mouth. It's just a distraction, Lena tells herself, a way to give her more time to gather her thoughts, but what's equally surprising is that Kara doesn't immediately pull away.

The thumbs stroking Lena's cheekbones stop, and Lena nearly pulls back when Kara's lips tremble against hers. There's a moment where everything just stops, the world holding its breath before Kara sighs against her mouth and softly, hesitantly, returns the kiss. This kiss is gentle, a simple brushing of lips that rights the world again. The tenderness of it is a ruinous force that worms its way into Lena's heart and she clings to it with a desperation that surprises her.

Kara gasps against her mouth, but she doesn't pull away and Lena presses in, kissing Kara more firmly as Kara's fingers thread through her hair, anchoring their mouths together.

There's the echo of thunder claps in her veins, her heart thumping in rapid beats against her ribcage, the warmth of Kara's body as their hips press together and the wild surge of lust teasing at the seam where their mouths meet. Lena's breath hitches when Kara pivots and the world tilts before those strong arms lift her onto the desk, and Kara slides easily between Lena's spread thighs.

Her arms wound tightly around Kara's shoulders, lips ghosting across soft pink lips as Kara licks into her mouth and the kiss turns hot, heavy, messy.

I trusted you, she doesn't say, instead her teeth nips harshly at Kara's lower lip, turning the kiss a touch primal, a touch hungry, a degree too painful for any normal human. But Kara's not human and she doesn't react the way a human would in this circumstance. She's…she's …the name gets stuck in her throat, Kara's brash distrustful self righteous alter ego's smile flashing behind her eyes and Lena growls against her mouth, clawing at Kara's back like she could rip the lies from her skin. The kiss lengthens, breaks, turns into another and then another, until Lena's lost count, until she's gasping into Kara's mouth, until she's gripping tightly onto Kara's hair, until she can't think beyond the gravity of her touch.

She hates her, and she loves her so fucking much she can barely breathe with the force of it. She wants to know her, all of her, she craves everything that Kara is, everything that Kara refuses to share with her. And her heart breaks all over again that Kara doesn't trust her with her secret, Kara who she'd born every inch of her soul to, Kara who's warm hands were now inching along the arch of her spine and holding onto her like Lena meant something to her.

But if this was all a farce then why did her kisses feel so reverent, her mouth so delicate and sure, her hands like warm marks branding Lena's skin?

Lena feels herself falling all over again, lost in the sensations, the emotions softening her heart and her mind goes carefully blank as Kara gently sucks on her tongue. She groans, a deep shuddering breath escaping her lips as the sound graces the air, face flushing at the blatant want tempering her voice only to be answered by a deep rumble like purr from Kara's lips.

She's briefly aware of the buttons flying off her blouse as Kara's hands fist in her clothes and Lena trembles as Kara's kisses move to the curve of her jaw, soft, adoring.

A sob builds in Lena's throat, and it spills into the air when Kara's lips fasten against her pulse, merging on the tail ends of a moan. Kara picks up on it but Lena isn't ready for this to end yet, so she rolls her hips, pressing the heat of her sex into Kara's firm abdomen. It works for a while as Kara's eyes turn glassy again, her focus drawn down to the silky bra peeking out from Lena's almost fully ruined button-less blouse as she buries her face there, the deceptive glasses going slightly askew.

Lena plucks it off her face and tosses it carelessly onto the desk, threading her fingers through silky blonde hair and tugging them roughly out of their tight ponytail. But Kara doesn't move. She stills, presses her ear right above Lena's fluttering heart as her hands drift down to wrap slowly, reverently around Lena's hips, anchoring their bodies together. A moment passes where their rapid breathing is the only sound in the office before Kara bravely finds the nerve to break it.

"You know." Kara's words tremble against her skin and Lena squeezes her eyes shut.

Damn her for being so intuitive, damn her for knowing Lena so well, damn her for not trusting Lena.

The sob that breaks free from Kara's lipstick stained mouth is heartbreaking and she presses her lips against the delicate skin of Lena's neck, an apology, an accord as Lena trembles in her arms, neither confirming nor denying her words.

"I'm sorry," Kara starts, the words trailing off into a deep shuddering breath as warm tears paint Lena's skin. Lena closes her eyes, arms curling tight around Kara's shoulders as Kara raises her head, tenderly brushing their noses together. "Lena -"

"Kara," the name bursts from her lips in a shaky whisper, a question, a plea and Kara chokes on the rest of her reply, pressing a trembling kiss to Lena's cheek and another to Lena's trembling lips. This kiss feels different, revelatory, apologetic and Lena finally finds the courage to open her eyes, meeting the red rimmed eyes of Supergirl free of their barrier.

There's a moment where they both just stare at each other, each stripped bare of their secrets and lies and all of the fight and the anger leaves Lena in a flash as she sags in Kara's embrace. Kara catches her, cradles Lena's body to hers as Lena presses her face against her neck, nose brushing lightly against Kara's fluttering pulse.

A strange sort of peace descends on the room then, and Lena thinks that this must be the calm before the inevitable storm. Kara's fingers comb lightly through her hair and Lena hums, on the verge of pulling Kara into another kiss when suddenly there's an incredibly loud beep against Kara's ears and soon the tinny voice of Kara's sister, Alex, joins them.

"Kara there's an incident at the museum. Can you get there?" Her voice is worried, urgent, crackling through the comms device hidden in Kara's ear and Kara sighs, squeezes Lena tighter for a bit before tapping the device to answer her sister.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," she says softly, reassuring and Lena takes that as her cue to release Kara from her arms.

"I'm sorry." Kara starts immediately once they're face to face once more, "I wanted to tell you so many times, so many times Lena but I just -" but Lena doesn't want to hear those words right now. She can't, feels as if every part of her has been laid bare to this woman.

So she just leans in and silences Kara with a kiss, one that makes Kara frown so she kisses her again and again until she's sure that she'll listen to her when she speaks.

"Go," Lena finally finds her voice to say, but Kara's frown deepens, warm hands tenderly mapping the curve of Lena's shoulders and sliding down until she's holding onto her forearms. "I'll be fine. We can have this conversation when National City isn't imploding."

Kara stares at her for a bit, blue eyes distraught, and Lena feels the weight of them like an anchor in her heart. She brushes their noses together, whispers a soft "I promise we'll work through this," and then Kara's gone in a whoosh of displaced air, leaving Lena just a bit less weighted with dread, just a bit less hurt, just a little more hopeful about their impending reconciliation.

If you made it this far, thank you so much for even looking at this story 🥺💗 wrote this as an angsty twitter fic yesterday for Supercorp Sunday and decided to post it here. Shout out to @CSIRJen for always allowing me to hijack her supercorp tweets to create stories 😅

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #Happy Supercorp Sunday #twitter fic #the lies we tell #my writing #my fics #season 5 angst

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