#nothing tastes good. its all just forcing it down.

[chimivx]

‘…and when you’re gone, i’ll tell them my religion’s you…’

Jisung’s dreams are an arms length away, lying in the hands of his superior who gives him a test, one that challenges everything he’s ever known, a taste of a life so intriguing. It’s only a matter of time before he’s faced with a choice… Who’s hands does he take?

✞ sacrilegious!minsung au

✞ 12.5k { one of ??? }

✞ ‼️ 18+, sacrilegious- it says it up top, blasphemy, its all very religious, they live in a clergy home, religious imagery, praying, god/christ/lord usage, they’re all devoted, eventual explicit sexual content, alcohol use, cigarette smoking, mentions of drug usage, light cussing, once again they spend a lot of time at church doing church things and working in a church, if something offends you it costs nothing to keep scrolling, IF I FORGOT ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW !!

Three times.

Deafening, three chimes of the clock tower is all it took for Han Jisung to stretch his legs through the courtyard, skipping over the crooked cobblestones, slipping into the crack of the dilapidated wooden door of the clergy house.

Just through the back door hanging on its hinges lived a kitchen, one always hot and steaming. The house's caretaker, Ann, slaved away day and night ensuring that the men who resided within the home were well fed and taken care of. Between long hours lost in books or prayer, Jisung has had his fair share of visits from Ann, the tall, hollow cheeked, grey haired woman knocking on his door into the hours of the night after he’s missed dinner, or if he’s left his light on for too long.

Many times he’s found himself being dragged out of the church by his collar, the elderly woman forcing a meal into the gangly boy with a waist no wider than the length of his forearm. While he’d sit on the stool beside the stove shoveling whatever it was she’d filled the bowl with for him, he’d listen to her scold the older men, the priests in the other room, damning them for working him too hard.

Sunday was the big day, Jisung couldn’t help himself, they were his favorite. Everything would be perfect, and they always were perfect, ever since he’d been granted the internship everything has been perfect.

If he ever caught himself lost in daydreams, gazing out the window at the land draped in green, the tans and beiges of the courtyards speckled with pink and purple flowers, he’d sometimes begin to wonder if that was why he’d never been offered a higher position. Everything’s perfect. If he were to acquire what he wanted the clergy would be forced to pick someone new to fill his, now, entirely too large shoes. The three priests who lived in the home, who preached in the church just next door, they’ve grown accustomed to Jisung and his perfectionism, though it’s the very thing that made him consider himself flawed.

He’s spoiled them rotten, and if not to excel himself forward in his career, his lifelong dream of becoming a preacher, showing off to the older men that he was worthy, that he was more than capable of reading his own sermons and shaking parish members hands after mass was held, being showered in their thanks, their gratitude- he did it to spite them. Not that he’d ever admit that. 

It was a feeling he’s swallowed down his entire life, one he’s often attempted to pray away. Not the overwhelming infatuation with being absolute perfection, but a constant berating need to be so terribly good that no one else could ever compare. 

Only one priest above him could come close in the race that was perfect intern. Christopher, a man five or so years older than Jisung who always wore his curly hair short and well kempt. A man who Jisung noticed liked to undo the first two buttons of his black shirt while he read in the study late into the night, a hand rolled cigarette burning between his plump lips that pursed as his eyes scanned over the words scattered about the page. Christopher took pride in being the one to hire Jisung, taking him beneath his wing, cracking jokes over drinks with the members that Jisung had surpassed him in expectations. That was how he knew it wasn’t his time. Until right now.

Quickly approaching two years of daunting tasks, cleaning for hours on end, preparing for masses, ensuring the hours of worship went exactly as planned, Jisung was instructed to meet with Christopher after he finished his duties in the sacristy. Organizing book after book, arranging throws of freshly cleaned fabrics, sorting through hundreds of candles, dusting antique gold, the second that tower told him it was three o’clock and that he was free to go, he bolted.

Years he’s worked for this, sleepless nights he’s acquitted for this, it was finally here, minutes away from falling right into his slender little hands. As he barreled through the kitchen, making sure to express his greetings to Ann who gave him nothing but a smile, he couldn’t help but begin to wonder what he’d be allowed to do first. Surely not Sunday’s mass, it was only two days away, he wouldn’t have enough time to prepare, and besides, Christopher was set to preach then. 

Breezing through a short hallway that toward the left led to a laundry room, and toward the right led to a small bathroom, Jisung stepped into the more than adequate living room with ample space to house three large couches around an apple wood table facing a fireplace with a structure that matched the cobblestoned sidewalks outside. To his right, a wall of glass outlined and accented in dark wood, the study, a room through the chestnut archway with bookcases for walls and comfortably cushioned chairs that Jisung has fallen asleep in once. Hardwood creaked beneath the sunken blue rugs all of the furniture sat upon, the house impossible to sneak around in. 

Behind the fireplace there was a staircase that matched the floors, hardwood that took one up to the second floor where four bedrooms fit the men with ease. Christopher in one right at the top of the stairs, the two other priests, Hyunjin, a quiet man who used to scare Jisung a bit, and Jeongin, the eldest and wisest, resided in the two bedrooms to the left of Christophers. Their three rooms were close to the stairs and big enough to house another person within it without feeling cramped. Jisung’s bedroom was shoved toward the back. Up the stairs to the right, down the hall and around a corner. A bathroom separated the pattern of rooms, but regardless, his room may as well be off the map. There certainly was little to no one room to house anyone else with him.

With a promotion though, things could change. Jeongin did just hit his mid-thirties, certainly he wouldn’t want to live out his entire life in a home with three other men. Though he did appear to be the one most dedicated to his faith, following every little detail of every single scripture like his life depended on it, Jisung couldn’t imagine Jeongin living here forever. Perhaps a promotion meant other things would change as well. 

Passing by the staircase he calmed his racing heart with a deep breath, pushing the air deep into his chest, repeatedly telling himself to not get his hopes up too high. There was just no way that this was anything else, Christopher asking to meet with him, setting up an appointed time and everything. This had to be it. 

Tugging at the collar of his white button up Jisung stepped into a dark hallway standing in front of a white wooden door with a golden handle. The smell of cigarettes and musky cologne wafted through the cracks, through the broken keyhole beneath the knob. Christopher was here, he was already inside. Jisungs heart sprung up into his throat.

Wrapping his hand around the cool metal, Jisung pushed the door open with a breath, stepping into the sunlight that poured through the white linen curtains into the office. Unable to help the smile on his face, he grinned as he closed the door gently behind him, placing his hand flat to it for a few seconds before he turned to face Christopher, the broad shouldered man perched upon the edge of the large desk.

A cigarette hung from his lips, the glowing tip bobbing as he smiled larger than he already had been. “Jisung!” His deep, melodic voice echoed in the room full of chairs that matched the couches out in the living room, bouncing off bookshelves and filing cabinets.

Smile faltering as Jisungs eyes spotted another head in the room, dusty brown hair in a chair pointed toward Christopher, the boy took a couple steps forward and planted his focus on his superior.

“Christopher,” he breathed, nodding his head as if to bow to the older man who waved his formality away and beckoned him closer with a wag of his fingers. “I came as fast as I could.” Jisung started through the room, his focus forward.

“I’m sure you did,” Christopher said, something sly pulling at his lips, cigarette ash sprinkling onto the hardwood of the office. Jisung approached the desk and the priest gestured to a chair to the right of him. The other man in the room was seated to his left, dressed simply in slacks and a button down like Jisung, but with silver jewelry dripping from his wrists and his neck.

Glancing from the man who didn’t spare him a look just yet, Jisung set his gaze on Christopher as he sat down on the edge of the flattened cushion, a curiosity growing within him. 

Taking the rolled paper from between his teeth, the priest stood to his feet, adjusted his belt, then rounded the worn wood carved desk that had been set in this clergy house for decades. History was written within it, written on it, beaten into the top of the wood, whispers of clergy members' past left behind for future ones to remember, to protect. He sat down in the chair behind it with a creak and folded his hands, resting his muscled arms over the desk.

Christophers brown eyes darted between the two sitting before him, the ghost of a smile making a home on his plush lips. “Jisung, I’d like you to meet the newest member of our parish,” he said, eyes zeroing in on his intern. Trying to hide the breath that corrupted his lungs, Jisung folded his hands in his lap and pressed his lips together. 

Here we go.

They’ve found a new intern, someone to take his job from him, and he was about to be handed a new one. Interesting choice though, Jisung would tell Christopher later, considering this man wore a straight fringe over his forehead slightly parted toward the center, with silver jewelry wrapped around his joints, chains linked together like Jisung’s never seen before. His jaw, sharp, matched his nose in curvature, the details carved delicately. His features may as well have been handcrafted by Michelangelo himself. 

His neck, slender in size, had one of those silver chains wrapped around it, hugging it ever so perfectly. Beneath it lived another. Beneath that one, a cross, dangling between two milky buttons. It seemed ordinary, the shining cross generic, not like the one made of pure gold, encrusted with genuine jewels that hung around Jisungs neck. He tucked it into his shirt every morning. The crucifix belonged to his grandfather, a token passed down to him from his grandfather. When the time was to come, Jisung would hand it down to his grandson, hopefully after a marriage or when he would take up the family trade and work in the church, serving his God.

He appeared legitimate. Strong faced, proper posture though his legs were crossed, an attentiveness while Christopher spoke. His dark eyes, a deep brown, or a mahogany, or a warm, rich chocolate, they studied. Analyzed. So statuesque, when he turned his chin to look at Jisung, the boy nearly leapt back into place.

“This is Lee Minho,” Christopher said, holding out a hand toward the man who’s analytical gaze had gone cold. Rich milk chocolate turned dark and bitter, and Jisung didn’t like the way it tasted. Within seconds this man had gone from someone whom Jisung would like to get to know to someone who just set their boundaries without even opening his mouth.

Facing him completely, Jisung was now able to see just how beautifully crafted Minho's being had been blessed. Completely symmetrical, his eyebrows set in place above his eyes, two straight lines that set further boundaries for him, his slender lips, the top plumper than the bottom, softening the sharpness his edges created. This was a man who was to not be messed with. Every little siren, every red light going off, flashing in Jisung’s head told him plenty. 

Minho was here for business, he was going to get what he wanted, and Christopher made a mistake hiring him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Minho,” Jisung said, dipping his chin.

Something shifted within his jaw, a setting taking place as the analytical eyes flashed back onto his face. Then, he smiled, only the corners of his lips lifting, rounding the apples of his cheeks. “The pleasure is all mine, Jisung.” He didn’t seem to blink often. His eyelashes have dusted his cheek maybe three times since he’s looked at Jisung.

Beneath his gaze was hot. It wasn’t fun being on the receiving end of someone studying you. Since he was young Jisung has always been the studier, not the one being studied. If this was how everyone he’s been caught observing felt he’d regret every single one. Like Minho had reached over the chairs and wrapped his hands around Jisung’s neck, warmth crept up through his chest, his cheeks hopefully not turning pink. Air a foreign subject, the darkness within his eyes wound Jisung thoughtless, the bitterness laced with a charismatic charm. He felt so small. Minho had only been looking at him for not even a minute and he’d already established his dominance. His place.

Jisung could only suck in a breath when Minho turned to smile at Christopher.

“He’s moved down here from Soro,” the priest said, nodding toward Jisung, “and he’ll be working beside you. I wanted to formally introduce the two of you here.” Parting his lips, Jisung sat straight up, tucking his ankles beneath the chair, knitting them together. “I’ve already told Minho how great you’ve been, Ji. The straight A’s in school, the honors, the awards and degrees and all the decadence from every institution you’ve walked into and tribalized into your own.” Christopher glanced at Minho with a smirk. “He is the best of the best. You’re going to learn great things from him, and one day, because we have the space, you’ll be one of us.”

You’ll be one of us.

Jisung narrowed his eyes, pointing them back at Minho who shared a smile with Christopher, his teeth making an appearance, all perfect in a row.

Today was the day Jisung was supposed to be made one of them.

“We’ll find space for you in one of the bedrooms upstairs, though you may be paired with Hyunjin or myself. Jeongin, since he’s been here so long, we allow him this sort of seniority, you know, for lack of better terms to describe it. I’d say that you could room with Jisung, but I’m not sure the space is enough. Though it’d be perfect, wouldn’t it?” Christopher smiled at Jisung, the boy now watching him with his brows nestled above his eyes. “The two of you will be spending a lot of time together, it’d make sense to share a room, Minho, you’d be a pro in no time.”

He couldn’t get a read on the situation at hand, couldn’t make sense of it. Picking it apart, putting it back together, it was too simple. Too simple for Jisung to come up with something logical to explain why he hadn’t been granted a higher position. Now that Minho had arrived, he’d been hired, taken under here at the house like Jisung had been two years ago by Christopher… Or, maybe, that was it.

Jisung’s last and final task.

Lee Minho.

Something about it didn’t feel right, however. Whether it be the way Minho carried himself or the way his eyes seemed to devour Jisung on the spot. It’d be a challenge. As threatening as he came off, Jisung mentally prepared himself to take this on, to whip Minho into shape and mold him into Han Jisung quality. No matter how painful the matter appealed to Minho, a certain dread was written on his face whenever his gaze brushed over Jisung, the man bobbing his clenched jaw while Christopher spoke, spilling more stories of Jisung and his successes.

He came from Soro, this man with the bitterness steaming out of his ears, a town poorly developed with only one church in the center of the madness they considered community. Jisung had visited twice. Once on his own while enrolled in his years at university, and another with Christopher, accompanying his senior on a matter of business, an exchanging of private documents that Jisung has yet to read with his own eyes.

That trip had only happened a few months ago, sometime in the spring. He supposed Soro wasn’t so bad then, the flowers along the streets reminded him of here, Avida, home. Trees greener than green lined streets of cracked pavement and misery, an immediate heaviness invading his chest when the car crossed the lines of Tamoe, the neighboring town, and sped them deep into Soro. It wasn’t a nice place to be in terms of people and behavior, Jisung had been told his entire childhood to avoid it.

The only reason he’d ventured there on his own after he’d turned eighteen… His own pure, impulsive curiosity. Jisung needed to know. Sitting beside his treacherous perfectionism, one throne below, his insatiable need for knowledge.

Lee Minho came from Soro, from that church he’d visited months ago with Christopher. In fact, he may have even been there when Jisung stepped through the gnarled wooden doors accented in faded bronze and tarnished gold. The tiled floors needed to be redone, the pattern had been chipped, the colors dingy from years of dirty shoes treading over them, like no one took the time to scrub between the grout. His heart seconds away from sinking in as he tipped his chin backward, up toward the high ceilings as he walked and found dust layered on the ornaments, cobwebs hanging from chandeliers with flickering bulbs.

Jisung had been able to care for his church for years without help, on his own, with the occasional five minutes of straightening up after a service by the priest. How someone could and would allow their sacred place, their sanctuary, to be so mistreated, it drove him mad. It fueled the passion he held for his own church. He would never see it turned to what he experienced that day, he wouldn’t stand for it. Priest or intern, Jisung intended to care for what he loved.

Minho came from this church. He must have. If he was their intern, or something of the sorts, if he worked for them, it meant he had taken part in the church becoming so desolate. Uncared for. Messy and one gust of wind away from ruin.

This would be a challenge. Jisung would need to watch him like a hawk.

“I’m very happy to be here,” Minho said, his voice like a needle to the skin, like the rest of him. He stood to his feet, his slacks loosening around his thighs. Stretching a hand toward Christopher who also rose out of his chair, the priest grabbed onto it and shook it with vigor. 

“Spend the rest of your time today getting acquainted with the place.” Christopher's grin made Jisung’s skin crawl. How he could hold his hand innocently without a second thought as to who he was allowing into this parish… They walked into that church together. They experienced the heaviness together. And Christopher now held it by the hand and welcomed it into his home. Their home. Jisung’s home.

Minho thanked the priest, then turned to Jisung who sprung to his feet. Stepping closer to the boy, the bitterness evident in his eyes, Minho held out a hand, one Jisung took out of pure submission, not knowing what else to do. His grip, strong, tight, dismantled any chance of defense Jisung could muster up. His hand engulfed Jisung’s entirely, his fingers reaching his forearm, the digits probably capable of making a perfect circle around his wrist. In more ways than one, Minho was much larger than him. With him standing on his feet he towered over Jisung by a few inches, looking down at him, his eyelashes unmoving.

That energy from before that rendered him breathless came back, a weight sitting on his chest, triggering a tingling within his veins, a nervousness. Tearing his hand away Jisung shoved them in his pockets and glanced toward the floor, swearing that Minho snickered to himself as he turned back toward Christopher who sat back down his desk. 

“Thank you for this opportunity, Father,” Minho said, a smile on his lips, one Jisung could hear. Bowing his head Christopher smiled back and gestured toward the door. With one more look down at the boy in front of him, Minho blinked and the smile wiped from his cheeks instantaneously. “Shall I meet you outside?”

Jisung cleared his throat and pressed his palms to his thighs within his pockets. Shaking his hair aside, he met Minho’s eyes and stuttered before pushing, “I’ll come find you,” from his lips, just above a whisper. Three seconds of silence passed, then Minho removed himself from the room, his shoes clicking on the hardwood until the door was pulled shut.

“Jisung,” Christopher said softly, allowing the boy to take however long he pleased to look at him. To his surprise, it took no time at all. Jisung, with his hands pressed to his legs, bounded for the front of the desk, twisting his eyebrows together. Christopher froze, his jaw agape with lost words between his teeth.

“No warning at all,” the boy whispered, tightening his jaw. “Do you know how-” Jisung cut himself short, shoving the tip of his thumb between his front teeth. Christopher waited with a patience unknown to the pistol in front of him. “Why blindside me?” Jisung took a breath, dropping his hand to his side. “I’ve been here two years, I’m in full control of this position, and you throw me this.”

Christopher shifted in his chair, sitting backward. “It was sprung on us, Ji, I had no choice but to do it this way. I’m well aware of the high standards you hold yourself to, and you know we admire you as you are, but keep that ego in check.” Jisung gulped, lowering his glare to the wood of the desk. “Show some humility. Minho came from a place that couldn’t shelter him, he needs our support. Welcome him, show him around. You remember your first day here, don’t you?”

“I do,” Jisung whispered, looking the priest in the eye. “I was twenty, about to turn twenty one, and I held within my heart a desire to serve you, to serve Hyunjin and Jeongin, to serve our Lord, and continue this journey in my faith.” A smile tugged at Christopher's lips. “With a single bag on my shoulder I left my parents behind, whom I served all my years prior, and I devoted my life to you. To Christ.”

Nodding once, Christopher thought with his hand, drawing it around in a circle before pointing it toward Jisung, stating the obvious that flew over the boy's head. “Jisung,” he breathed, taking the fingers to the bridge of his nose, “I admire your devotion, I really do. If anything, that is where you outdo all three of us.” Christopher looked at the boy, his wide, somewhat saddened mocha colored eyes and his fluffy hair laying over his forehead. “I know what you expected, coming here today,” he lowered his voice, “I feel sorry for not being able to give it to you.”

Jisung pressed his fingers to his palms, willing away the urge to snap at him out of frustration. It wasn’t his fault, Christopher was a mere pawn for the bishop to play with, giving his orders for the priest to flesh out within his own parish. All over the country it worked this way, Jisung knew his place, he knew Christopher’s place. While in this house he was the one to carry out these decisions made together with the three of them, most of the time they were ordered by the bishop to follow through, which in turn meant Christopher had to follow through.

Hyunjin argued he was too softhearted to deal with being the bearer of bad news, even good news, any news at all. He didn’t want the responsibility in his hands, he knew Christopher had a clearer way of speaking, of relaying his thoughts. A confident charisma. Jeongin had the position before and simply didn’t want it any longer. When Christopher came around the eldest handed it over with little worry that he wouldn’t be able to live up to the expectations. Like Jisung, Christopher straight away proved himself more than worthy.

“You deserve it,” the priest said, and Jisung softened. “Trust me on that, Ji. You of all people deserve to be where we are,” he paused for a moment, making the boy look up at him, then, he whispered, “You just have to do this one last thing. I promise.”

“He’s come from Soro, Chris.” Jisung’s concern spread onto his face, his soft cheeks.

The priest hung his head for all of two seconds. “I know,” he whispered.

“The church of Saint Denis,” Jisung continued on, “We both walked through it. That’s where he’s come from, isn’t it?”

“He’s right out there, Ji, why don’t you go find out for yourself?” Christopher leaned forward onto his desk, his hands folding over a grey folder full of papers with 1959 written on the front. A full report of the year so far, the records, the history made. Some type of paperwork from Minho would be in there, just like Jisungs was in the folder labeled 1957. “You could make a friend, you know, he’s not much older than you. Surely you can’t enjoy spending all of your time with us old people.”

Jisung cracked a smile, one Christopher returned. “You’re only thirty, I’ve just turned twenty four. We’re not so different.”

“Ah,” the priest raised his chin and his brows, “So you think.” Pressing his lips together he flickered his eyes toward the closed door and sighed. “Go, Jisung. I’ll be here if you need me, but I have no doubt that you can handle this on your own.”

Jisung stepped out of the office, pulling the door closed behind him quietly, always careful to not disturb the peaceful air that hung about the house. The priests moved just the same, quietly, with a poised purpose and a courtesy to the other men that resided within the cinder block walls. After speaking with Christopher Jisung’s doubts for dealing with Minho had faded somewhat, that is until he turned within the dimly lit hallway and found him perched against the wall opposite of him.

Arms folded over his chest, over the cross that hung from his neck, he had one foot on the wall, the other outstretched before him. That stone cold look was on his face, and it felt as if Jisung hadn’t spoken to Christopher at all. In a single look Minho could swallow him whole and spit him back out, only to devour him once more, finish him off. Jisung, not usually uncomfortable in front of new people, part of the reason why he was so certain he could preach in a room full of utter strangers, felt nervous. Especially now that he stood here alone with the man.

Somehow, beneath the chilling rest of his face, Minho wore the ghost of a smirk, a reminder to Jisung of that arrogant snicker that left him in a breath so quiet that Christopher couldn’t hear it. Jisung wondered if the priest would even believe him if he told him about it.

“Uh, I’ll be honest with you,” Jisung willed his breath to remain steady, “I wasn’t prepared to give out any tours today.”

Minho’s eyes looked from Jisung’s attempt at a smile, then drew back up to his eyes. “That’s not very star student of you, is it?”

Lips parting in shock, Jisung couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm or not. “I just… No one told me that you were coming, I didn’t have the chance to…”

His smirk grew ever so slightly, his fingertips pressing into the fabric of his white shirt around his biceps. “Relax, Han Jisung, I’m messing with you.” Pushing off the wall with one foot, Minho took a step closer to the boy. “Besides, you’d be able to pull something out of your ass in seconds wouldn’t you?” 

“Oh,” Jisung sighed, his eyes widening. “We don’t use profanities on property.”

The dark chocolate of his eyes danced around Jisung’s face, the analytic showing through once again. “‘Course you don’t,” he said above a whisper, narrowing his glare slightly. “Apologies, Han Jisung.”

Tilting his head, the boy let out a quiet laugh. “You can call me Jisung.”

“How old are you, Jisung?”

The intensity of his stare had the boy rocking on his feet. “I’ve just turned twenty four a little over a week ago.”

Minho was a statue. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you,” Jisung whispered. “And… and, you?” 

“I’ll be twenty six in about a month.”

“That’s great,” Jisung swallowed, hard, “We’ll certainly celebrate, Hyunjin is a stickler for recognition and tradition. He’s our feeler, if you will.” Minho turned from him, releasing the strangling hold he had over Jisung, the boy feeling like he was allowed to breathe again. He studied the walls and the next room while Jisung spoke. “Christopher’s the brains, as you can probably tell, you go to him if you have any issues or things you need to work out. Jeongin, he’s rarely seen unless it’s for meals or prayer, but he’s our scholar. A teacher. I learned a lot from him and I continue to do so, if you ever need to-”

Minho turned to face him abruptly, cutting him clean off. “And what of you, Han Jisung?” 

“I’m- I’m sorry?” Jisung stuttered, shaking his head. Minho prodded his cheek with his tongue.

“Come on, don’t get humble on me now.” Minho smiled. He actually smiled, and Jisung’s knees buckled. “You’re all three of them wrapped into one, aren’t you?” 

Jisung never thought about this. He was always his own entity. Sure, he was inspired by the priests he worked for, but he’d never compare himself to them. Every move he made was his own. 

“I- I never… I don’t think I’d say that,” Jisung laughed, a nervousness wavering within it, “The three of them, they’re extraordinary, the best our church has seen in years, I cannot compare.”

Minho dropped his gaze down to Jisungs shoes and allowed it to drag up his stature with ease. Jisung longed to shrivel into a ball of nothing. “Interesting.” A curiosity burned where the bitterness once lived. “Han Jisung of Avida, belonging to the Saint Joseph Calasanz Church, astronomically successful in his schooling which then led him to his position here working alongside the best and the brightest?”

Mouth suddenly dry, Jisung gave a meek nod. “That’s… that’s me.”

“I feel like…” Minho paused, walking closer to the boy, a few inches between them. Jisung held his breath. Lifting a hand above the boy's head, Minho measured a foot of air. “I feel like you need to be here,” he muttered. Jisung blinked fervently, pointing his eyes up at his hand, then to his face where he believed a smile was resting. Minho moved his hands to Han’s shoulders, hovering them above the white cotton, then extended them outward. “And, here.” 

They met eyes and Jisung pursed his lips, Minho blinking down at him.

“You’re so…”

“Small?” Jisung offered, a mere squeak from his squished lips. 

Minho squinted, his lips crinkling. “Hm, no, I was going to say awkward,” Jisung gasped, his eyes shooting open, making Minho laugh, “But, small works, too. Maybe you are somewhat self aware, Han Jisung.”

The boy cringed. “Call me Jisung.”

Rubbing his lips together, Minho then nodded, and said, “Okay, Jisung.” Stepping backward, he nodded behind him. “Work your star student magic, this is a test. How perfect will this tour be?”

With one word he managed to wreck the ‘he’s kind of alright’ image Jisung attempted to build. Here in this hallway, within a few minutes, Minho undid what he’d done in the office, but with one word tangled it all back up again.

He’s the test.

Lee Minho, the challenge.

A cathedral stretching tall into the greying skies of the September-esque weather lived cozily on the edge of the massive green plot of land, the clergy house situated directly behind it, hidden by the peaks and towers atop the church. Around it, the crooked cobblestones, the path winding around the building on both sides, meeting the grand staircase that led up to the delicately carved, well preserved double doors that one often needed two hands to pull open. Along the grainy bricks of pure stone that made the two stories of the church were gardens of flowers and freshly trimmed hedges and bushes alike.

Trees lined up, separated by four feet of space on the other side of the cobblestones would grow across the way, their branches hanging over the paths, creating a canopy of sorts, granting passerbyers a break from the beating sun. Soon the green would settle, and the happy hues would turn a warm yellow, and orange, a comfort, the leaves one day covering the stones. 

Oftentimes when it’d rain in autumn, they’d become so slippery that one would have the hardest time rushing from place to place. An act that took Jisung three times to learn. One can only hit the ground with books stacked in their arms so many times before realizing the leaves were trying to teach him something.

Everyday when he passes through the alleyway, the small strip of stone between the church and the house, he’s reminded to slow down. To breathe. To take him time. To think things through.

The round stones laughed at him, rattling as he stepped over them with Minho trailing behind, the man lagging by a few steps, hanging behind Jisung as they walked throughout the house, brushed by Ann in the kitchen and stepped outside to the overcast skies. 

“She’s always in that kitchen,” Jisung said, wiggling the heavy back door to the clergy house open so that Minho could follow him out. The wood drug, caught along the concrete of the step. Minho, once outside, tipped his chin backward, his stoic gaze taking in the church and its size. “Ann is kind,” Jisung said, forcing the door shut with both hands, then joined Minho at his side, “As long as you’re kind to her.”

“Learned that the hard way, did you?” Minho asked, shifting only his eyes sideways to look at the boy who shrugged. 

“Ever since I’ve been here she’s been kind.” Jisung stepped off the concrete and onto the colored stones, starting for the back door of the church. “Christopher used to tell me I was lucky that I didn’t deal with her rigidness the first few weeks. Both Jeongin and him endured it, before they earned her trust.” 

Three strides. 

Jisung grabbed the shining handle and twisted it, yanking the door open with ease, a blast of heavy, musky, incense filled air washing over him. Glancing over his shoulder, Minho was already there peering inside, his jaw closed tight. With a slight jump, startled, Jisung whirled himself around and stepped inside.

“What of Hyunjin?” Minho asked, letting the door close gently behind him, one of his hands guiding it shut. Dim light engulfed them. A soft glow from the stained glass, well sheltered windows illuminated the space, but nothing more. 

Having taken to putting things in their place already, as if he wasn’t here an hour ago, Jisung straightened out some books and gave Minho a curious look. “What about him?”

“You didn’t mention him,” the man said, his voice the quietest it’s been. Inside the sacristy, a room half the size of the sanctuary that resided through the curtain on the archway and outside the double doors behind that, the air was still. Every sound that they made became incredibly muted, yet entirely loud for either of them. Almost sound proof. The fabrics hanging around, draped on the walls, and the books lining the shelves acted as a barrier, a different type of sanctuary.

Minho stepped around with a caution, hands in his pockets, letting his eyes do the discovery of the cluttered, yet organized space around him. His gaze fell upon Jisung a few times, the boy never happy with the placement of something.

“That’s because the two of them started like Ann and I,” he reached above his head, rising to his tiptoes, pushing a line of books back on the shelf so that they were in line with the rest. 

Minho stopped behind a table with wooden chests stacked on top of it, little and large and all sizes in between. Dragging his middle finger along the edge of one he popped the yellow gold latch open and lifted the lid an inch. Three thick cream colored candles laid inside, every single one of them in their purest form, perfect and untouched. When Jisung turned toward him, wiping his hands on his slacks, Minho closed the lid and met his eyes.

“Hyunjin joined our parish when he was a child.” Jisung came to Minho’s side, his attention dropping the table where he flicked the latch of the chest to lock it, then brushed his hand over the lid, wiping away imaginary dust. “He’s lived here in Avida all his life, his parents belonged to the church.” Minho watched Jisung work, yanking at the chests, pulling them out of place just to put them back where they started. “He decided what he wanted to do with his life when he was very young, and he’s been working here since age ten.”

A smile tugged at Minho’s lips. “Someone more ambitious than yourself, I see.”

Jisung straightened himself out, taking in the amusement that trickled onto Minho’s expression. It jostled something within him. Jisung couldn’t place if it were frustration or anger, or both. The feeling wasn’t debilitating, he could handle it, he wouldn’t let it fuel his response. Swallowing it down, fingers curling over top of a wooden chest, Jisung bobbed his head and blinked.

“I, uh, I suppose so,” he said, willing his tone to be strong, telling himself to ignore the comment. Minho’s the challenge, he was meant to come with these types of hurdles. The frustration settled in further as Minho’s amusement grew. 

“How old is Ann, anyway?” he asked, dropping his eyes to the table and Jisungs clenched fist. His eyelashes fanned along his prominent cheekbones. With a breath, Jisung shrugged.

“No one knows,” he said, and Minho looked up at him. He glowed in the splashes of color from the windows, the warm tones setting his skin alight with a blush Jisung wasn’t sure Minho would be able to produce naturally. Shadows contoured his already chiseled jaw and nose, deepening his artisan aura.

Jisungs frustration threatened to turn sour. No man's appearance ever filled Jisung with envy, his faith wouldn’t allow it. 

‘All men are created equal.’

‘We are all equally made in God’s image.’

‘Every human being is the object of the love of God.’

Through his word Jisung has never needed to feel inferior, nor has he ever been presented with a situation where he’d feel less of himself. Standing here with Minho, since he’s laid eyes on him in the first place at that, he begins to assume that that's what this feeling is. It has to be. An envy of how perfectly symmetrical his features had been placed, a jealousy being spurred on by the utter man he was. Strong, wide, taller than Jisung. A man who’s filled out his face and knows how to fix his hair. A man who knew what to say to knock Jisung down a peg when for two years he’s been living in a comfortable solidarity that everything he’d been doing was perfect.

Jisung couldn’t remember to comb his curls some mornings, not when there was work to do. The mess would hang over his forehead, the black locks brushing his eyebrows unless they were pushed backward from his forehead hours into work. He wasn’t tall, nor would he consider himself strong. Compared to most men, including all three in the clergy house, Jisung’s probably half of what each of them weighed. His clothes hung off of him, his belts desperately clinging to his waist to keep his slacks in place. He was small.

Growing up he’d never been an object of affection, not that it was his goal, nor was it ever really a thought. Girls in school would pay attention to him, but he’d go through his days without needing that attention like other boys would. The matter never bothered him, he had his school work to worry about, he couldn’t see why some of his old friends would waste time running after girls. Little did he know his round cheeks, fluffy hair and gentle build were what the girls wanted.

Inferiority. That’s the feeling Minho gave Jisung. That was the lesson to be learned here.

Puffing out his chest, or attempting to, Jisung nodded toward the curtain. “Shall we continue?” 

Minho relaxed his face and blinked. “You’ve not told me about this room.”

God, why did he talk like that?

“Surely a man of your expertise who can land a job like this knows what room this is, Minho,” Jisung said, snapping his jaw shut. With a harsh turn of his body he hurried away from him, tugging the curtain in the curved archway aside. 

Through the archway was a long, skinny hallway stretching to the right and left, both ends winding around to the front of the church’s entrance hall where the double doors and grand staircase hugged the outside. Along the hall were a few doors to offices, small rooms where records were held or where the priests would work for church matters only. The floor, covered in marble tile outside of the carpeted sacristy, shone in the light fading in through the small rectangular windows built into the walls just below the tall ceiling.

Jisung flew through the double doors, the sound of them being pulled open echoing into the spacious sanctuary, the church. Hidden behind the altar, a tall marble structure that built into the ceiling, Jisung ascended a staircase of five steps, matching the tile of the floor, and took a moment to himself. Closing his eyes, folding his hands over his chest, he breathed in the crisp air laced with nostalgia and released with the quick mutter of a prayer, one his father and his father before him taught him.

‘Oh Jesus, my King and Lord, by the grace of the heavenly Father and the power of the Holy Spirit, guide me in all righteousness as I serve You today at the Altar so I may be always worthy of Your presence.’

Engraved in his mind since he was a young child, Jisung recited the words aloud, whether quiet or with his chest, whenever he was to cross the altar or approach it. A sacred place, the most intriguing part of all for Jisung. The body and blood of Christ, the Bible, one that’s met the hands of priests from centuries before Jisung, before Christopher, before Jeongin.

Unlit cream candles upon it now, in their golden candelabras matching the sconces along the pristine walls of the church, ones Jisung has replaced and scrubbed clean again and again. The altar, free of any objects now aside from the candles as there was no mass taking place, glittered in the sunlight of the fading afternoon. Along both walls that seemed a mile high lived matching sets of stained glass windows telling the story of Christ, of the Virgin Mary and her life's journey with her one and only son. In the four o’clock hour now the sun poured in casting rays over the chestnut pews that Jisung adored much more when they were full of smiling faces, old and young.

Walking across the front of the altar, many steps above the church, looking down into the pews, he imagined what it’d feel like to stand here in a sanctuary full of people. Full of worshipers like himself, their eager ears listening to what he’d have to say, his own homilies, his own take on the scripture left behind for their naked eyes looking for direction. A direction he’d give them, he’d guide them, he’d take them someplace unimaginable, a place full of hope and undying love.

“This place is huge.”

Startled once again Jisung’s shoulders ate his ears, his heart leaping into his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Minho muttered, and Jisung could hear the smirk he wore. Turning to face him, evidently he didn’t wear much on his face which was somehow worse. Standing on the altar within the town's most beautiful, most prestigious church, walking into it for the first time he didn’t show an ounce of appreciation in his stoic self. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Jisung sighed, giving his head a shake. “You’re sneaky,” he said quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Averting his attention to the altar behind him and the angelic statues situated above and around it, he took another longing deep breath. “Are you always so quiet, Minho?” Stepping up to the shining altar Jisung took out a hand and placed it on top, the marble cool to the touch, soothing his frustrations within. 

The man’s feet scuffed along the floor, alerting Jisung he was moving closer to him. “I suppose I am,” he said. He snuck up to Jisung’s side, placing a hand on top of the altar. Continuing his slow stroll he rounded the side, dragging his fingers along the marble until he was across from Jisung, their hands mirroring each other, fingers splayed out to cover as much space as they possibly could. Three feet separated them physically, but the moment Jisung looked into his eyes it was as if the air between them ceased to exist.

“Your church in Soro,” Jisung said, keeping his voice low though it bounced around the vacant space without even trying. “The Church of Saint Denis.” Minho’s eyes shifted to the marble, his chin maintaining its height. “That’s where you’ve come from, isn’t it?” He nodded in answer, his brown eyes taking back to Jisungs, now a grappling hold. “I wanted to ask you if it was alright… I’ve visited before, and-”

“I know you have,” Minho whispered. Jisung clamped his jaw shut. The mans demeanor didn’t change, but Jisung did not like the way those words spewed from his lips. “And I know what you’re going to say, Han Jisung.” Every pause between his words festered a nervousness in Jisung’s gut. “I encourage you to not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned.”

Jisung hung his head. “I know the words,” he whispered. “Please accept my apology, it was not my intention to offend.”

“You really do live your life by the book, don’t you?” Minho asked within a breath after a beat of silence. Jisung looked to him in surprise, eyes wide and shining, finding Minho waiting for an answer with baited breath, his own gaze engrossed in a curiosity Jisung couldn’t make out. “Surely I thought you’d be able to weasel the information you wanted out of me, or you’d fight back with something smarter, more obscure than Matthew or Luke, but… Simple words from simple passages and you’ve been subdued.”

Jisungs fingers on the altar moved into a fist. Minho took note. “The words aren’t simple, they’re sacred, as are the passages.”

“Of course they are,” Minho said, beginning to round the other side of the altar, approaching Jisung with a tenacity. “The word of the Lord.” Pausing at his side, Jisung turned his chin to look up at him. “Have you never wondered what life would be like if they were wrong?”

“Never,” Jisung whispered.

“Have you never looked on the outside, have you never challenged the text, never thought your own thoughts? Never wondered why we’re confined to the rules within the passages written by, and translated by people of the past again and again, where something could’ve and may have been misread?”

That frustration Jisung attempted to hide away leapt into his chest, his blood boiling beneath his skin, a disbelief clouding his expression as this man stood inches away from him, a man he’s to share his position with. A man speaking words Jisung has never before attempted to think about in his life. He’s never seen the other side, he’s never wanted to. Never has his curiosity ever threatened to drag him that way, never threatened to take him down a path that goes against everything he’s ever known.

“I challenge you to do so. It wouldn’t just open you up to empathy beyond your imagination, it would broaden your perspective as a preacher. How do you expect to stand up here in front of hundreds of imperfect people looking for answers if you don’t even understand where they’ve gone wrong to have the need or the desire to sit within these pews? Every person you’ve ever met, every person you will preach in front of has sinned somewhere in their life whether or not you have, Han Jisung.”

Jisung gulped, willing his voice strong enough, he said above a whisper, “I liked you better when you were quiet.”

A toothy smile flashed onto Minho’s face, knocking Jisung breathless. “And I like you just the way you are, Jisung.” He held onto his eyes for a few more seconds before directing his attention toward the entrance hall doors that seemed a mile away. “The choir sings from there, correct?” Minho gestured a hand to the second floor balcony that opened up above the church, shoved toward the back behind all of the pews so the voices in the choir would shower down onto the churchgoers.

“Yes,” Jisung said, unable to produce anything else to plead his case, or argue back. Minho knew it too, and that killed Jisung tenfold. The amusement in the man's cheeks made him sick. 

“Take me there,” he said, looking at Jisung, knowing.

The boy sighed and glanced up to the balcony nestled under the painted ceilings of the cathedral, saints and angels dancing about the blues and whites of the ethereal sky. “Ann will have us for dinner soon, we shouldn’t take too long. It’s your first dinner, that’s important for her.” It also explains why she’s been working in the kitchen since early afternoon. She only did so for special occasions, Jisung should’ve seen Minho coming.

Putting his hands in his pockets, Minho, still wearing a smile, said, “The clock hasn’t struck five. When it does we’ll head back, I’m not done here yet.” Jisung didn’t have anything to say, he was entirely defeated, pacified. “Not done with you, either.”

Within the warm kitchens brick walls there was a table that could seat six and this evening five of those chairs were occupied. Sitting at the end of the table Jisung had Christopher to his left and Hyunjin to his right. Beside Hyunjin sat Jeongin who took a sudden interest in the house's newest addition, Minho, sitting at the other end of the table, directly across from Jisung. In the yellow glow from the light fixture mounted into the ceiling the men ate, they sipped their wine, and they laughed.

Conversations flowed through stories of the past, Jeongin ensuring that Minho knew his fair share of history before he retired for the night. The eldest telling stories meant that his first descendant below him was correcting him, Hyunjin flashing looks at Jisung that were making him giggle when Jeongin would get details all wrong.

“You’re thirty six, have you left your memory in the first half of your thirties?” Hyunjin hollered, outstretching an arm to shove Jeongin’s elbow off the table, the man with neatly styled hair scoffing at the one with hair that grew down his neck. Thin, half rimmed glasses sat on the end of his button nose, Hyunjin tossing his head back with a laugh, catching the spectacles before they fell to the floor. “I mean seriously, Yang, pull yourself together, it’s no wonder you can’t keep your mother happy.” 

Snickers sounded around the group, Christopher nearly spitting out his wine across the table at Hyunjin. Jisung laughed along with them, picking at his plate of various meats and veggies. The others had scarfed it down it seemed, the moment they were presented with the food it was gone in a flash. Even Minho at the other end of the table, he filled up a plate after watching the elders do so and had dug right in. Acting as if he’d been here for months, Minho slipped into the laughter and chatter with ease, asking all the right questions at the right time.

At Jisungs first dinner the boy couldn’t shut his mouth. Full of excitement that bled everywhere on top of everyone, he overwhelmed them with questions, with statements, with facts. The elders couldn’t get the information out fast enough, they were forced to, otherwise Jisung would begin assuming things on his own. They learned quickly that night that his brain worked faster than his mouth, more often than not that first dinner his foot may as well have been on the plate because it made a happy home in his mouth.

With Minho, maybe it was his age. Jisung was a mere child when he started. Minho has had years of practice in another church, he was about two years older than Jisung, so it wasn’t a wonder as to why this socializing came easy to him. He portrayed himself a different Minho than Jisung had just spent two whole hours with, however. For some reason once he shook the hands of Hyunjin and Jeongin it was like a wall melted away. At the table tonight as he smiled at him, the rigidness of his being didn’t exist.

Until he’d spare a glance toward Jisung moving food around on his plate with his fork knitted tightly in his fingers. Then the walls built back up.

Maybe Minho was right, maybe Jisung was just awkward.

“A working memory is important to women,” Christopher said, adding to the teasing of Jeongin. Tipping his glass toward him, he pulled his lips down into a smile and laughed.

Jeongin exchanged a glance with Minho who took a sip of his wine, enthralled with the discussion. “You’d know all about that Christopher, wouldn’t you?” 

“Oh, you’re a nuisance!” Christopher threw a hand toward him, sitting back in his chair. Jisung nibbled his bottom lip and gave a look to the man to his left. As if he could feel it, Christopher looked back at him while the men talked amongst themselves. “He’s kidding, Ji. Don’t you let those words get stuck in your head.”

“A joke from years ago, Jisung,” Jeongin said, turning the attention back on himself. “Before his sudden switch to God's grace your role model there was quite popular with the ladies.” A small smile took to Jisungs lips as he glanced to Christopher.

“You’ve never told me this before,” Jisung said, and the older man shrugged, sipping his wine.

“It was never important,” he muttered. “Besides,” he sighed, sitting forward, setting his glass on the table, “It was why I made the sudden switch. Women are wonderful gifts from God, but involvement with the wrong kind and you’ll be wishing for more than forgiveness.” Christopher gave the boy a look that informed him he’d speak of it later, that now was not the time.

“What about you, Jisung?”

The question shot a hole into his gut. Christophers face lit up, his eyes darting every which way, Hyunjin furrowed his brows, and Jeongin chuckled aloud. Meeting eyes with the man who asked the question, Jisung tightened his grip on his fork. The insecurities he felt looking at his face seemed to double beneath the pressure of the question.

When it took a few seconds for him to sort out his thoughts, the older men around him attempted to answer for him.

Hyunjin uttered, “Jisung is a sweet boy.”

“Our Jisung certainly wouldn’t think that way, not after all he’s been through,” Jeongin said.

Christopher listened, then added, “He’s so one track minded, I’ll be shocked if he…”

Minho held up a hand with a smile and slight roll of his eyes. “Let him answer for himself,” he huffed a laugh, and the men around him agreed. How? Jisung wasn’t sure, because if he were him he’d be reprimanded until the following morning. “Seems you all need to learn about it, too, let’s see what he has to say.”

Four sets of eyes burned into him, Jisung only able to stare into the ones that taunted him from the other end of the table. Sitting backward in his chair, his legs crossed, his silver cross hanging over his chest, he was smug as ever. In seconds he’d been able to tug him right back into the church, on top of the altar where he blatantly asked him of his sins. And now, here he was, at the dinner table with men who have become his family, asking him again.

Christopher may have been able to admit it, his history before he ventured into the church, but Jisung? Not only was there nothing to admit, nothing to say, but there was a disgust that grew there in that empty spot, and Jisung couldn’t place why.

“No,” Jisung whispered, glancing down at his full plate he certainly wasn’t touching now.

“No?” Christopher asked, his voice soothing the harshness this once comfortable setting was turning into. Jisung dropped his fork and tossed the napkin from his lap onto the table. “Ji,” Christopher nearly shouted as the boy pushed his chair back abruptly. 

Standing to his feet, Jisung threw his hands out to his sides and looked over the men around the slab of wood. “How can you all sit here and have this conversation? I preferred the stories, or when we discussed scripture, not women.”

“We weren’t even discussing it, it was only a question, we’ll move on,” Hyunjin said, willing Jisung to sit with a wave of his hand. The boy grabbed the back of the chair and shoved it under the table, rattling the glasses on the surface as he did.  

“Han, sit down,” Jeongin said, acquiring a look from Minho.

“No, I’m sorry, I can’t,” the boy muttered, dragging a hand through his curls, exposing his forehead. Without another second or another peace offering from one of the men, Jisung turned on his heels and hurried from the kitchen, through the living room and up the stairs. He left them in silence, feeling sick and hungry all at once.

“Strong sense of justice that one has,” Jeongin said, shaking his head. “Even jokes he can’t take.”

“But, it wasn’t a joke,” Hyunjin said, his voice smooth and melodic, entrancing Minho every time he spoke. “It was a legitimate question, he has every right to feel upset or uncomfortable.”

“Of course you would say that,” Jeongin muttered, reaching for his wine.

Hyunjin jutted his head backward. “You know how he is, Jeongin, it’s not like this is the first time you’ve met him, Jisung has stormed away from this table more times than I can count. Even when we’ve had guests, members of other parishes here with us, other priests from other churches. You know Jisung, we all do, he’s going to stand firm in what he believes in even if that means causing a scene.” The man with the long dark hair and glasses balled up his own napkin and tossed it beside Jisungs, rising from his chair. “Now let me go talk to him like I always do, I’ll get him back down here.”

“No,” Minho said suddenly, politely holding up a hand. Three heads turned toward him. “Please,” he said, standing up, tucking his chair beneath the table neatly. “Let me. I think I may have said something to him earlier that brought this on. Please, let me apologize to him.”

Hyunjin, after a glance at Christopher, sent Minho on his way with a nod. “Up the stairs to the right, around the corner.” Once he was gone, a satin white flash, Hyunjin sat down and leveled with Jeongin, focusing on Christopher. “Has it been decided where he’ll be living?”

“I was thinking of putting him with me, but Hyunjin, if you’re up for a roommate…”

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, the man the face of peace and serenity, a calmness exuding him. “Put him in your room, Chris,” he said, then looked at Jeongin who gave him a nod. “He got comfortable way too fast, you’ll need to keep your eye on him.”

Up the stairs to the right, around the corner.

The floor creaked louder on the second floor than it did on the first, Minho approaching Jisung’s door as quietly as he possibly could. Behind the inch of plywood Jisung sat on the edge of his bed, leaned over his knees with his head in his hands. The light bulb hanging from his ceiling flickered as he took deep breaths down into his stomach, easing the emptiness and the nausea that existed in unity. 

The entire day played through his head, a cassette rewound and replayed as soon as it was over. A normal morning spent preparing for the weekend, for the three days of mass, in peaceful quiet, nothing more to do than hum to himself while he prepped the books and set up the candles. Waiting anxiously excited for his meeting with Christopher, he had no idea that his entire belief system was hours away from being threatened, questioned. 

He’d been told stories like this one, how temptation would waltz straight up to the door and not even knock before allowing itself inside, seducing one without them even realizing it was being done before it was too late and they had nothing left to do but beg the Lord for forgiveness. It looked him in the face, it said the words to him, it put thoughts in his head he’s conditioned himself to ignore. When it came from such a pretty face it became believable. Considerable. His tongue was persuasive though Jisung batted it away, fought it out of his head. 

Then, at dinner, to involve his seniors in such a discussion, one he didn’t even start, but continued. They’ve never spoken that way around Jisung before, that could only mean it was his doing, his persuasion even if he didn’t speak it aloud. He brought an energy that encouraged others to turn, even the strongest of the strong.

He’s just arrived, it hadn’t even been a full day, and he was already infecting the house and the men that lived inside. Jisung wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t stand for it. Tomorrow he’d speak to Christopher, he’d express his doubts whether or not the elder assumed it came from a place of envy, which it did not.

A knock sounded at his door.

Dropping his hands he glanced up at it and sighed. He’s met Hyunjin this way numerous times, he was simply waiting for the knock at this point. Sliding off his bed he took three strides over the hardwood and gripped the handle.

“I know what you’re going to tell me,” he said before he opened the door, “You can save your breath if you’d like.” Stepping back from the wood as he pulled it open, his breath catches in his throat.

“Do you?” Minho asked, a different type of emotion laced in his brows as he stood in the doorway, an emotion that Jisung couldn’t place.

Jisung longed to slam the door in his face, but he was paralyzed in place. “I thought you were Hyunjin,” he mumbled.

“I asked him if I could come instead,” he said, pressing his hands to his thighs. “He defended you, by the way, after you left.”

Jisung clenched his jaw and perked a brow, Minho watching it. “He usually does,” he whispered, sure of himself, and Minho swallowed a laugh. “Why are you at my door and not him? Go back downstairs and involve yourself in conversation of wrongdoings with men I thought I knew.”

He bobbed his head every so slightly, that ghostly smile hanging around his lips. “I need to apologize to you, may I come inside?” Jisung lowered his brows and pouted in thought. He wanted to come into his room and apologize. “Better to not do it out here where everyone may hear me, I want to talk about what happened in the church.”

Jisung scoffed. “You keep your irreligious ideology out here, Minho.” Pushing the door shut, Minho caught it with one hand, staggering Jisung backward a bit.

“We started this all wrong,” Minho said, poking his head around the wood to keep his eyes on the boy. “Please, hear me out.”

“We didn’t start anything,” Jisung sneered. “You let me know exactly who you are and what you’re here to do.” A crack appeared on Minho’s face for the first time since Jisung had laid eyes on him. The cold exterior, the walls he’s built up, the facade he’s been portraying. It cracked, and Jisung sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Minho took a step back. 

Christophers words came back, “Minho came from a place that couldn’t shelter him, he needs our support.”

‘Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.’

“Ephesians 4:31-32,” Jisung whispered, stepping back from his door, opening it as far as it would go. 

Minho blinked, taking Jisung walking into his bedroom as an invitation and stepped inside. Taking the door in his hands he closed it gently and took his time turning around. He recited the passage aloud, the one Jisung stated, and turned to find the boy waiting, a plea for forgiveness on his face.

“You don’t have to give me that, it is I who needs to apologize to you, and ask for your forgiveness,” Minho began, taking a step closer. “I went too far. I said some things I didn’t mean, things that have been stuck within me since I was young.” With a twist of Jisungs brow, Minho breathed through a laugh. “People like you, people who have nothing but faith and total trust in their God, you challenge me.”

Jisung took a step backward and sat down on his bed. Gesturing to the desk in the corner and the space beside him, he allowed Minho to make his own decision, finding a spot to sit in the wooden chair that he pulled from under the old school desk, sitting on it backwards.

“If I give you a life story I expect one back, Han Jisung,” he smiled.

The boy nodded, his face never changing. “Just speak, please.”

Intaking a breath, one far too deep for Jisung’s liking, telling him he was about to get hit with the cold hard truth, Minho settled his arms over the back of the chair and spilled his mind.

“For the record, I’m not here to be a priest, even though Christopher said it when we met,” Minho shook his head, “That’s not what I am here to do. I’m quite content living my life doing your job. I stated that when I moved here, and I’ll be willing to say it again, as many times it seems fit so that you know that I am not here to take something away from you.” Jisung swallowed, keeping his head moving as Minho spoke, expressing he was actively listening. “I’m not fit to be a preacher, it’s not in my nature, I mean, look at us right now. You’re sitting here listening to me apologize to you when we’ve only met hours ago.”

“People aren’t my forte,” Minho said, then nodded his head. “But, they are yours. This life was meant for you, Jisung. I’ll admit, my behavior stemmed from a place of envy.”

Jisung sat up straight. “Envy?” he muttered, and Minho nodded again.

“You’re a legend now, Han Jisung,” Minho said, squinting his eyes. “Everyone who comes up in the schools behind you, they know your name. The two years you’ve spent here, creating another perfect name for yourself, you’re setting the standard. All of us in your position, we’re compared to you, and so many of us are rooting for you to move up.”

“Even you?” Jisung whispered, his eyes locked on the man in his chair.

Minho tightened his jaw. “Even me,” he raised a brow. “It may not seem like it based off of today, but I am.”

“What was all of that?” Jisung asked, gathering the fabric of his slacks between his fingers. “You had me up here contemplating whether or not to tell Christopher to fire you.”

A flash of that cracked expression hit his face as he looked away and shook his head. “Deserved, I suppose.”

“The words you spoke,” Jisung breathed, the disbelief clouding over him like it once had, “They were unnatural to me, Minho. A person in your place, here in this church, you can surely understand why it scared me.” 

“Of course I can,” Minho answered. “Please understand I am still learning. I wasn’t brought up like you, like Hyunjin. I am much more like Christopher, having lived a whole other life before turning to Christ.”

Silence fell between them. After three seconds, Jisung lifted a hand, encouraging him to continue. The two sitting with one another like a sinner and preacher in penance. Minho, fluttering his lashes, pointed his eyes to the floor and dropped his chin.

“I was lost. I’d just started my late teens, maybe nineteen if I can even remember correctly, and I fell in love.” Lifting his eyes he met Jisungs. “Not with a woman, not with a human being, but poison. I was around some bad people at the time, the kind of people who speak like I had spoken to you earlier. Their influence was intoxicating, sometimes even more so than the garbage we fueled ourselves with.” Minho’s lashes brushed his cheeks with every blink. “I grew up with God, my mother, a single woman who had me quite young, she introduced me to his word the day I was born. We attended church every Sunday, that church up in Soro,“ he flashes Jisung a look, “Sometimes we’d even go during the week if she was able to get us there.”

“She was beautiful, everyone tells me I have her face,” he laughed to himself, and Jisung yearned to smile, because he believed it. “I left her when I turned eighteen, don’t ask me why. If I had to come up with a reason I’d tell you what I tell everyone else, that that teenage syndrome got me. She gave me everything and I ran from it, I abandoned her, my faith, my life that was quite alright, all because I met some people who sparked my interest. People who questioned my love for Christ, people on the other side who challenged me like you do, and you’re on the right side.”

A long sigh left him, Minho taking a second to collect his thoughts. The right side, Jisung was on the right side. According to Minho he’s been on the right side his entire life.

But, what of this wrong side?

Minho never said it was wrong. He’d simply addressed, and suggested believing in Christ was the right side, the right thing to do. Jisung knew what existed, he knew his probabilities after death, but this one was a new one.

Where there is right, where there is wrong… Is there something in the middle? A place in between it all where neither right or wrong exist? Could both be true at once? Could someone be right and wrong?

“What of the middle?” Jisung whispered, and Minho looked up in a hurry. “I was wrong as well, Minho. To dismiss your words in such a hurry that is, though I’m certain if they delivered differently and not in a way that attacked my faith I may have listened to you. I now know that either way I should have just listened to you, you know, if I’m looking to become a well rounded preacher.” Minho smirked. “I’ve never seen this other side, I’ve only known faith. Forgive me for the judgment, I don’t want to be this… know it all who looks down upon others.

“Just a know it all, then, right?” Minho teased. Jisung rolled his eyes while he laughed. “Come on, star student.”

“No, I don’t want that,” Jisung said, relaxing his smile. Shaking his head he took a breath and ran his hands along his thin legs. “I’m very good at what I do, but I’m humble about it.” Minho perked a brow. “I’m learning to be humble about it.” The boys shared a soft laugh. “When you’re isolated here with three other men who praise you like their lives depend on it, it’s a little hard to come down.”

“They care about you,” Minho said, and Jisung expressed his gratitude by closing his eyes and pressing his hands together, tipping his chin backward. “They want you to succeed. But, they keep you in check.”

Releasing a breath, Jisung dropped his hands and shrugged toward Minho. “They do, it’s necessary.”

Minho narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Do you ever get time to yourself? When you aren’t serving them?”

A playful smile evaded Jisungs face, his disproportionate lips flattening. “Don’t test me, Minho.”

“I’m serious,” he held up both of his hands, his dark eyes shooting open wide. “I’m asking you person to person, unrelated to faith.” Grasping the back of the chair he tilted his head again. “I think it’s also me… checking on you. Do you ever get the chance to be you, and not Han Jisung?”

Looking from his hands to Minho, Jisung clenched his jaw along with his fists. After a breath, he mumbled, “I don’t think I ever allow myself to.”

Something flickered into place on Minho’s face, his eyes blinking, reopening to a complete fresh start. “Perhaps I can teach you, while you teach me.”

masterlist ✧ ao3 ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[pechebeche]

you forget how Physical depression can get when you're on good meds. i have been drinking so much water all week and forcing myself to eat, but i still feel both bloated and nauseous like ive overeaten + dizzy like i haven't eaten in days. no wonder i had-have disordered eating

[dragonsholygrail]

You spread yourself as wide as you can, not knowing how broad your Ghost bf is, but wanting to give him enough room as he fucks his cock into your weeping walls.

The days breeze blows in through the open window, providing a bit of relief from the firey heat that runs along your skin as your Ghost bf forces more and more orgasms out of your battered cunt.

You whine, writhing against the bed as his massive dick stretches you out. Your pussy flutters around seemingly nothing, yet that wet squelch echos throughout the room with every rough thrust of your bfs hips.

Hands squeeze tightly at the sheets below you, needing to grab onto something, needing something to ground you as your bf takes you to new dimensions of pleasure. A ragged moan leaves you, hips now jolting with each plunge of his cock.

“Fuck! I-I wanna touch you. Want you so bad— God!” You exclaim, throat raw from your cries of ecstasy. The dull feeling of your hips meeting causes your head to spin.

Reaching out blindly behind you, your hand snags onto the sheer white curtain of your window. Through the fucked out fog within your mind, you slowly form an idea.

Before Ghost bf can react, you throw the curtain outward and as soon as it catches onto an unseen form, you wrap your arms around it and pull him closer. A low moan leaving you as his cock slips deeper inside of you.

A sharp gasp moves past your lips, eyes narrowing, swearing you can also almost see his features through the material. In his shock, Ghost bf stutters in his pace. Feeling your arms around him would’ve been enough to make him blush if he still could.

Spurned on by this new discovery, Ghost bf starts pounding into you, the pleasure of his length rutting its way along your walls now heightened by your touch on his skin and slight ability to see him. But you need more as you feel yourself about to reach your peak.

Pulling him further down, you kiss him without hesitation, your lips fitting together like two puzzle pieces. The thin curtain only adding to the tingles moving down your spine.

Ghost bf’s moan moves through the breeze as always, yet this time you can feel it too. Ghost bf immediately cums again as yours lips brush deeply against each other. You whimper as his spectral-cum shoots inside of you, body twitching before you follow right after, exploding all over his cock and your bed.

You both rock steadily against each other, drawing out your orgasms as you make out passionately. Not wanting to separate for a moment now that you’ve finally gotten to taste each other in this way.

But your bfs ghost cock can’t plug you up. Can’t keep you stuffed full of his cum so that not even a drop drips from your delectable pussy. But with these new findings your bf can’t pass up the opportunity to try. To finally force his cum to stay deep inside you.

More whimpers leave you as your bf pulls away and slips the curtain off his head. They’re quickly interrupted by a choking gasp as you feel him stuff as much of the curtain inside you as the curtain rod will allow. You both look down at your pussy with bated breath. When nothing leaks out, you smile and fall back down on the bed.

“That was… a good idea,” you say through breathless laughter. Not being able to help but grind into the texture of the curtain and stimulating yourself all over again.

Ghost bfs eyes darken as he looks down at you, wondering just what else that curtain can give you both access to. His cock twitches as it starts to come back to life.

[suguru-getos]

bnha men when you use the safeword: fem!reader

characters included: bakugou, hawks (my 2 pookies)

bakugou katsuki:

it was hectic, the feeling of it all. at first you’d even say it was feeling good, but with the way katsuki’s amped up stamina was nowhere near done on your body, you could start to lose yourself a little. katsuki had just come back from a business trip, he missed you… you missed him too. but the way his cock plunged into your sopping wet pussy, smirking and unraveling your insides every single time… it was starting to ache. especially when he bred you twice already, forced into a mating press and forced to hear the churning sounds of his seed inside you bubbling out with his mushroom tip abusing your poor hole. “kats-“ you mumble, nails indenting over his skin & making it raw. “suki…” words fail you, there is nothing you can do or say for this. you want this to stop, your body can’t take it anymore. “s- suki…” you whimpered again. katsuki’s brows are glistening with sweat, he smirks at you, his genuine, loving smirk as he leans in and kisses you again. your lips smashed against his. “my pretty girl.” katsuki coos, but his pace, his cock isn’t being so nice. and you can’t take it anymore.

“door.” its just silly how you and katsuki decided the safeword term. not creative at all, you just glanced at the door while discussing it with him & this is the first time you’ve ever used it anyway.

there is an instant stop in his movements, siren eyes widened in utter shock. “princess? y’ okay?” the position is instantly adjusted to you laying down comfortably, your swollen cunt parting with his veinny cock as he leans back, kissing your cheek, your forehead. “s’ that too much f’ my baby?” he almost pouts with complete genuineness, looking at you and waiting for you to speak. his warm palms reflexively massaging your forearm and kneading at your body to provide comfort. “sorry- just- got too much for me.” you pouted, tears welling up in your eyes.

“shut up, stop apologizin’ cmere.” katsuki is quick to shun that bit from you, craddling you in his arms instantly. he knows aftercare is important or you’ll fall into submission drop. “my good girl~ so proud of you, you know that? cus’ y’ communicated when it didn’t feel good.” he nuzzles his nose against yours, a bright grin over his face. “my pretty girl.” he echoed that over and over, kissing all over your cute body and hugging you closer, wrapped around in a blanket burrito. get ready to be babied until you get annoyed of him. 💅🏻

keigo takami:

there is an eerie streak that has keigo’s head in a haze to pleasure you tonight. he normally gets in on those, but you’re just so delectable, so beautiful looking with your desperate squirming and mewling when his feathers clamp around your nipple and when his tongue fucks your pussy and flicks your clit with a rhythm perfect for your body — it’s hard to stop. it’s always been hard for keigo to stop playing with his little prey.

“ssh- stop moving around little one.” your squirming and moans are chastised by your man instantly. feathers clamping and spreading your legs apart as he grins. leaning in and continuing with his favorite meal. he’s already made you orgasm twice, and this is the third time he’s pushing your boundaries. “not my problem you taste so divine.” he grunts, nose nuzzling against your poor, swollen clit as he softly nips at your inner thigh.

the next thing which happens has your eyes widened and mouth agape, his thumb spreads your pussy lips and the tip of his tongue leans back your clit’s hood, flicking and vibrating around the exposed & vulnerable bundle of nerves with vigour. “AH- oh no.” you shake your head, this makes you feel queasy. this makes you feel sensitive and sends jolts of good pain down your pelvis. you don’t want that pain, the foreign feeling catching up to you rapidly.

“keigo- no.” you whine, struggling to no avail. you always mumble these things and you know its hard for keigo to take you seriously around this. “feather.” you squealed the safeword out. all of hawks’ movements stop. the feathers wrapped around your ankles and your hands let you go instantly. his marked eyes widening and leaning away. “oh-“ his lips parted.

you didn’t feel like you were comfortable enough with this, that’s all there was. maybe you misused the safeword. are you even a good partner to him? before your doubt flourishes into something rooting deep, keigo hugs you gently, letting you straddle his lap and his wings forming a cocoon around you. “ssh~ there there, sorry it got too much for my little baby.” he hums, kissing the crown of your head.

“just. got uncomfy.” you mumbled, sniffling softly. “maybe i shouldn’t-“

“of course you should have, there is a reason safewords are created sweetness. and if you didn’t feel comfortable you had every right to use this. okay?” keigo coos, kissing your cheek and hugging you tightly. his ragged breaths slowly calming down at the embrace of his mate. even your bubbling doubts vanished quickly as keigo swayed you gently in his hug, humming a random tune of the favorite song you have.

“too bad you don’t have a safeword to stop me from singing.” he hums, after minutes of comfortable silence and snorts. your silly liddul pookie <3

[arieslost]

when lando gives head its actual heaven because you can feel his hands gripping your thighs and holding you down to stop your constant squirming, and the sounds of his mouth literally attacking your clit echoes through the room. like seriously all the wet noises and his tongue lapping at your juices just makes you want to cryyy

something about him just makes me think that he taps in to an absolutely feral side whenever he’s between your legs. he knows nothing but the carnal desire to make you forget everything but the fact that he’s the only one who can make you feel this damn good. he doesn’t care how messy it gets; in fact, the messier the better. there’s nothing that turns him on more than tasting you on his tongue, breathing in your scent, hearing you moan and whine, feeling you squirm and relishing in the way your legs trying to close around his head, unable to do so courtesy of his strong hands.

and you love it. when you first started sleeping together after a couple months of dating, he was extremely gentle with you, like you were a piece of porcelain he was always afraid to break. but it only took you making a passing comment about wishing he would manhandle you that flipped that switch inside him, the desire to please you intensified tenfold now that he knew you wanted him to use his strength against you in bed.

so now he’s quick to throw you on the bed, strip you of your clothes, wrench your legs apart with just a little more force than necessary. you always try to close your legs whenever you’re on the cusp of an orgasm, but he won’t let you. his big hands splay across your thighs, arms wrapped around your legs so you can feel his muscles flexing to keep you stationary as he continues his relentless pursuit.

he relishes every little movement and sound that you make, especially when you gasp out his name, thread your fingers through his curls and tug. the only thing he loves more than you is being between your legs for hours, and i do mean hours.

[cvnt4him]

Birthday head w zuzu🗣️

Js think'n ab him waking up before you during the morning yk whether it be force of habit or because well he's a teacher, he would pepper you in kisses whispering sweet nothings and many strings of happy birthdays!

Js like kissin all over your cheeks n your puffy lips, then he moves down to your neck keeping them light and quick he suckles on the flesh gently as not to wake you, leaving a slight bruise. You hum underneath him which brings a smile to his lips.

Whilst hovering over you he gets a good look at your limp and unconscious figure, the way you're splayed out beneath him like this. You're just so perfect and he has a whole day of pampering and peppering just for you.

m’ thinking maybe he just gets a thought like maybe he could do a little something for you despite you being asleep, his first thought was to make you breakfast, which he did as an amazing husband. but then he had a thought to do..more.

Izuku slowly trails down underneath the covers to where your lower half was and crawled in between your legs, he was careful not to be too moving and too rough with your body whilst being in this vulnerable estate. He gently kissed atop of your thighs moving inward, his lips peppered slow gentle kisses on the inside of your thighs.

His breath hitched as he came face close to your clothed cunt, licking a long stripe up the covered slit. His tongue did that for some time before you were nice and wet, he moved the fabric to the side and instantly delved his tongue inside of your lips. He licked and sucked up everything you gave him, slurping and making a mess all over his face.

The second you started squirming and little mewls had left out he knew he was doing a great job, he worried that maybe because you were asleep you wouldn't have as much pleasure but boy was he wrong. You were moaning and your back was arching, your hips forcing themselves into izukus face.

He buries his face inside of you and gently rubbed your clit with his thumb occasionally coming up to give it little kitten licks. Zuku didn't care about breathing or anything like that, he just wanted to give you a mind shattering orgasm.

He was a moaning mess while eating you out, whimpering and whining at the mere taste of you. He was drunk off of you, your scent your flavour all of it. His tongue just wouldn't let up on its squirming, the pink muscle swimming inside of you and taking all of your essence.

Izuku was happy having his face buried inside of your cunt, it made him happier once you grabbed him by his hair and shoved his face deeper. He happily obliged and started swirling his tongue around your clit before giving back down to drive his tongue right back inside.

Once you came all over his mouth his face was sticky in your arousal and juices which he eagerly tried to lick up the best he could! He heard your ragged breaths assuming you were still awake, he placed gentle kisses in the inside of your thighs before giving your cunt a sloppy tongue filled kiss.

The sudden electrification of the new pleasure he just gave you made you jolt up with a whine, you moved the cover to see him still in between your legs, his eyes shot open wide as he moves back from your cunt with a lovedrunk and oussydrunk smile, all wobbly and glistening with your slick.

“g’morning honey.. happy birthday~”

It's my birthday today n uhm yeah! I wanted to like. Make something for myself but like... NOT make it ab me at the same time lol. Who wants to read something that isn't necessarily x reader yk?

Happy my birthday to you<33

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him. 

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it. 

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

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

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing. 

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject. 

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!" 

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back. 

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment. 

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it. 

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you. 

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

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

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her. 

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it. 

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt. 

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw 

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email. 

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

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind. 

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him. 

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions. 

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight. 

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now. 

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[awearywritersworld]

do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you

sukuna x reader summary: the higher ups succeed in kidnapping you and sukuna doesn't know if he'll get you back alive. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: fluff and angst. reader is kidnapped and gravely injured. depictions of blood. canon typical violence. "good girl". cursing. ft gojo. aged up!yuuji. fem!reader. not canon compliant. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: and finally folks, we've reached the climax of the series. there will only be one more official chapter after this one, so i hope this lives up to expectations. this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it's certainly better when serving as a culmination to the other chapters. i'm a little nervous posting this, so i'd love to hear your thoughts :) series masterlist // masterlist

brontë

sukuna isn't sure at first why the name is familiar, but he soon realizes that a great many of the books on your shelf are authored by women of that name, including jane eyre.

though he finds your copy of wuthering heights, written by an emily brontë, tucked away in the drawer of your nightstand, the headphones you'd asked him grab lying on top of it.

he pulls the book from its spot with care, as the cover is worn and frayed at the edges. flipping through the pages, there are quite a few quotes underlined and countless scribbles in the margins.

while you'd forced him to read jane eyre, he tucks wuthering heights under his arm of his own volition. he isn't sure if it's because you've kept this one separate from the others, or because it might give him an opportunity to know you better, or because he's positive it will make you happy, but he does it all the same.

when he steps back into the living room, he drops your headphones in your lap and takes the seat beside you, wasting no time in beginning the first chapter.

"what've you got there?" you eventually question, even though you know the answer.

he doesn't spare you a glance when he responds, "a book."

"oh, yeah? what kind of book?"

he elects to ignore you, which only serves to encourage your mischievous tone. "i thought romance novels were beneath you and your refined taste."

finally looking at you, he narrows his eyes at your childish taunt. "do you want me to read it or not?"

"of course—"

"then i suggest you be a good girl and behave yourself."

your mouth snaps shut so abruptly that your teeth click as they meet, something sukuna takes note of with a raised brow. you're thankful when he returns to reading rather than saying anything more.

so without any additional interruptions, he delves into the tragic story of heathcliff and catherine. or more precisely, the pain and destruction that follows it.

the further he reads, the better he discerns that while you seem to have a penchant for the brontë sisters, they seem to have a penchant for writing about men that are wicked and callous.

the very notion makes him chuckle.

maybe it explains why he's sitting here with your feet in his lap, while you try and fail (rather cutely) to stifle your giggles at some stupid youtube video.

"what?" you ask, taking out one of your headphones once you notice he's staring at you with a small smile.

"nothing. just enjoying the story."

the way you beam in response makes his mouth go dry.

"hah! i knew it! you're a romantic at heart."

you make a big show of pressing your hands to your chest and swooning.

"settle down there," he chides, his hand patting your thigh. "you're getting ahead of yourself."

two days later, sukuna feels that something isn't quite right. it's barely perceptible, nothing more than a minute shift in the atmosphere, but it grows more palpable as time stretches on.

yuuji's mission takes him farther from home than usual, to a little town about two hours outside of the city.

the curse he exorcises upon his arrival is much weaker than he's grown accustomed to, probably only a third or fourth grade.

yuuji doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, or at least, he pretends not to. sukuna thinks that's the problem with optimists— they don't take action quickly enough, too busy wasting their time hoping for the best.

when he returns home late that afternoon only to find your apartment door slightly ajar, his hand hesitates before pushing it open.

he discovers that the living room is littered with residuals, but it's eerie how nothing else is out of place... save for you, who is no where to be found.

in a disbelieving panic, he begins checking all the rooms, not hearing sukuna's frantic voice even though it's coming from inside his own head. "she's not here... idiot, she's not here. we have to go. we have to go now."

he eventually finds a note lying on the coffee table, but even this he hardly processes— something about surrendering himself and sukuna to the higher ups at headquarters in exchange for your life.

"listen to me, brat... you're wasting time... idiot!"

"what?" he barks abruptly.

"she isn't far, a couple blocks to the east at most—"

"it doesn't matter. headquarters is to the west. that's where we need to go."

"have you failed to comprehend a single thing i've said about the higher ups?" sukuna sneers. "they'll kill us, then kill her too. she knows too much about jujutsu society. they won't let her live, and that's if she's not... if she isn't already..."

he can't get the word out.

"no... no, they wouldn't..."

"now is not the time for your blind faith in the integrity of others." sukuna tries again and again to assume control of his vessel, and while the force behind it makes yuuji's head pound, it's no use. "for fuck's sake— please, yuuji!"

it's the first time he's heard the curse occupying his body say his actual name or use the word please, and in a strange way, it seems to ground him to some degree.

itadori yuuji has always been uncannily fast, but as soon as he makes his way out onto the street, it's like his feet aren't even touching the pavement. he appears as a blur to the people he passes by and it happens so briefly that they more than likely disregard it as a trick of the light.

the ruby decorating your neck leads them right to you, a low hum of frequency that only sukuna can hear.

yuuji comes to a stop in front of an old warehouse building. there are several wooden boards nailed across the main entrance, which splinter and fall to the earth under the impact of his impatient fist.

although the people down the hall quiet themselves upon hearing the crash, he can still sense their energy. he just can't seem to pick up on yours.

maybe sukuna is wrong? maybe you're not here after all.

"no," comes sukuna's voice, cold and hard. "she's here."

he makes his way down the stretch of hallway and to an open door where he stops, both of his feet planting firmly on the ground. everything appears to be frozen as he stares at ten sorcerers who quietly stare back.

it's clear they were not expecting yuuji, but he knows the higher ups assigned so many sorcerers just in case he did somehow figure out where they brought you.

he recognizes many of their faces and even knows some of their names, their familiarity no doubt intended to discourage him from engaging them.

after a few moments, yuuji's eyes land on your figure— motionless on the floor.

he has to admit, the higher up have put together a fairly sound plan. it's just that there's one small detail they failed to account for.

a curious and constraining sensation erupts from the center of his chest, and yuuji doesn't quite understand what's happening until he registers he's no longer the one in control of his body.

the king of curses remains completely still as he studies you from afar with a slight tilt of his head, his mind refusing to believe the scene right before his eyes.

when the gravity of the situation finally settles in, a gut churning agony blossoms in his stomach and bleeds into every part of his body. every bone. every pore. every vein.

the entirety of him burns, both inside and out.

the air in the room is heavy, overburdened with hostility and raw power. it makes the sorcerers' knees buckle and they nearly collapse beneath the immense pressure.

as sukuna takes a step toward the nearest person, the edges of his vision turn white.

he moves with deadly precision, at a speed which very few people on earth could even begin to comprehend.

it's a joke how quickly it's all over.

some of them are in pieces. others have exploded into nothingness. a few are burnt to ash.

in his haste, sukuna nearly misses the final sorcerer. he's probably the youngest of them all, cowering in the corner of the room. his eyes are wide with horror and his body shakes with fear.

"p-please, spare m-me. i didn't touch her," he sputters out.

the laugh that follows is utterly humorless. "do you actually believe that makes a difference to me?"

"i told t-them not to hurt her! i swear. that's how i got this." he points to his bottom lip, busted open and swollen. "she even told me she was sorry that i got hurt... that i didn't have to defend her."

this gives sukuna pause and his jaw clenches as he considers what you would tell him right now were you conscious.

so even as every fiber of his being screams at him to end the sorcerer's miserable, pathetic life... he restrains himself and pins him to the wall instead, pressing a forearm to his throat.

"go back to the higher ups. go and tell them that if anyone lays a hand on her ever again, i will ruin them," he spits, venom lacing each word. "i'll slaughter every last one of them. i'll level their homes. i'll take everything from them. tell them this is a promise they shouldn't take lightly."

when sukuna takes a step back, the young sorcerer crumbles to the ground. "i- i- i will."

"then get out of my sight," he growls.

returning his attention to you, his demeanor shifts in every respect.

you're going to be okay. you're going to wake up. he's going to take you home and it will be like none of this ever happened.

but when he falls to your side, his knees meeting the ground so brutally that it cracks beneath his weight, his conviction falters.

your blood is spilt onto the concrete. your skin is cold. he can't tell if you're breathing. he can't feel your heartbeat.

he determines that the gash across your side deserves his attention first and his hands tremble as they move to cover it.

he puts every ounce of power he has into his reverse cursed technique, but your eyes don't flutter and your chest doesn't rise nor fall.

his palms stain crimson, and while blood has never bothered him before, the fact that it's yours forces the bile to rise from his stomach and into his throat.

and his face is wet.

why is his face wet?

why are his lips trembling?

why is his vision blurred?

he wipes at his cheeks, leaving a trail of your blood across his face in the process.

"no," he chokes out. "please, don't do this. you're fine. please, you have to be fine. please."

the king of curses begs, but he has no idea who his desperation is directed toward. maybe it's you. maybe it's the gods. maybe it's some entity that's unknowable to him.

hell, maybe it's just whoever will listen to him. there has to be someone out there, right? something.

unbeknownst to him, and poetic in sorrowful sort of a way, his next pleas are reminiscent of heathcliff's after he learns of catherine's death.

"be with me always"

"stay with me, angel. please don't go."

"take any form"

"hate me for this if you want, for being the reason you're in this mess. you can't hate me anymore than i already hate myself."

"drive me mad"

"i'll read every single stupid romance novel on your bookshelf. i promise i'll play all of your ridiculous card games."

"only do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you!"

"just don't leave me here without you. i don't want to be here without you.

"oh, god! it is unutterable!"

"please," he whimpers.

"i cannot live without my life!"

"you're everything. you are everything. you can't leave me with nothing."

"i cannot live without my soul!"

"i love you," sukuna laments. "i love you."

he doesn't even comprehend the words that have been tumbling past his lips, because they're coming from a part of himself that he long believed to be dead and buried.

it's the part of him that can feel suffering and regret and loss and love.

it's the part of him that you've been painstakingly unearthing whenever you send a smile his way. whenever you curl into his side. whenever you press your lips to his.

and he's so undeserving of it each and every time. he's known that. god, has he known that.

he thinks bitterly of the night you'd walked to the park together hand in hand— when you told him the universe had sent you to knock him down a peg.

turns out you were wrong.

the universe gave you to him, but only so it could take you away too.

and it won't just knock him down a peg. it will fucking destroy him. it will completely and irrevocably destroy him.

this is what he does deserve.

how is it that you can be both his salvation and his undoing?

"i love you," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

it's ironic that the three words he's never once said in his entire life are the only ones he can manage in this moment.

he hears a quiet sigh escape your lips, but he knows that it's just his imagination— nothing more than the universe playing its final sick joke.

the sun is out and its rays are peeking through the window of your bedroom. sukuna thinks it's despicable.

everything should be cold and dark today.

you're lying in bed half dead and the only thing keeping sukuna's sanity intact is the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

he should go to jujutsu headquarters and deliver a slow, painful death to every single person involved in yesterday's events. then he should turn their headquarters to ash and stand there watching until the wind blows every last bit away.

but more than that, he should be by your side, so that's where he's remained.

it's been nearly a day and you still haven't woken up, so he's taken to performing reverse cursed technique on you every few hours.

yuuji had shoko come by last night and she assured him your body just needs time, but sukuna doesn't intend on taking any chances. aside from the brat, there isn't a single sorcerer he trusts.

so naturally when gojo teleports directly in the middle of your living room unannounced, sukuna moves swiftly to his feet and blocks the doorway to your room.

gojo regards him nonchalantly, hiding his surprise that yuuji is not the one to greet him. "what are you doing... out and about?"

"that's none of your concern."

"right. well, i came to check in."

"that's not necessary."

the two men watch one another carefully, before gojo eventually chuckles. "god, you actually care about her. i guess the whole soul thing should have been proof enough, but i couldn't bring myself to really believe it until now."

sukuna doesn't respond, so the other man continues. "you should know that the threat to her has been... dealt with."

"that so?" sukuna asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"mhmmm. word of this spread to the three clans and they agreed civilians have no place in jujutsu politics if it can be helped. not to mention your little... messenger. it all caused quite the ruckus for the higher ups."

"i don't think ruckus is enough to deter them." his tone makes it clear that he feels gojo is wasting his time.

"this isn't the heian era anymore, you know. the higher ups may still be the figureheads of jujutsu society, but they have little say when all three clans concur on a matter." receiving nothing more than a blank stare, he adds, "besides, i'm rather fond of her myself, so i may or may not have made certain threats of my own."

sukuna's eye twitches. "anything else you feel compelled to share before you leave?"

"can i at least see her before i go?" gojo questions, peering over sukuna's shoulder.

"if you do not value your life, i welcome you to try."

a sly grin breaks out on gojo's face.

"eager to make good on your promise of killing me from all those years ago?" he pauses, his hand coming to rest on his chin as if he's pondering something of great importance. "as much as i'd love to see you try, we shouldn't wake our precious sleeping beauty before she's ready, so maybe another time."

with that, he disappears, leaving a very irritated sukuna in his wake.

"our," he repeats under his breath, shaking his head. "that unbearable imbecile."

when he turns on his heel, however, the malicious look is immediately wiped from his face because you're awake.

you're awake and peering at him from behind heavy lids.

"hey," you greet in a small voice.

his eyes grow impossibly soft and he sits on the bed beside you, his hand moving to caress your cheek. your skin is warm again.

"hey, angel."

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[loveindefinitely]

guess who? | feat. task force 141

-> minor bdsm, dom/sub dynamics, polyamory. ⚔️

your moans are high and breathy, lips spit-slicken and open as thick fingers thrust into you in an endless pattern. the blindfold wrapped around your eyes feels like torture, not being able to see your partners as you're fucked relentlessly.

"please, fuck, need you," you whine, squirming where your wrists are tied together, and your ankles are tied to the bedposts.

all you can think about; all you can feel, taste, touch -- is the slide of a dick against your pussy, the high of sex. even the tantalising, devastating fact dancing in the back of your mind doesn't minimise the pleasure flooding your body.

a light slap to your cheek has you letting out a pathetic whine.

"aww, love," kyle coos, "you know what you gotta do. be a good girl for us, hey?"

and, yes, you know that you have to do something. you're not entirely sure if it's even important, anymore, though -- if it even matters. nothing feels quite as significant as your impending orgasm.

a particularly rough thrust has you groaning, a tear leaking down your cheek from behind the blindfold.

"guess who, angel," simon mutters, a threat underlying his words.

he doesn't give away anything, but even after multiple rounds of edging, he barely lets out a whimper. he's stone cold, just as johnny always said.

"i --" you hiccup, squirming in your restraints, "i can't, please just let me cum --"

a pull at your hair has you crying out.

"you know the rules, darlin' girl. guess right, you can cum as much as you want."

john.

your captain.

his voice is rough and just slightly too condescending to be sweet. you can't find it in yourself to mind, not really, not when that relentless heat in your stomach feels like it's about to reach its peak.

"use yer pretty head, lass," johnny snickers, cruel, just this side of perfect. if you could get any wetter -- that would do it.

"or did we fuck 'er too dumb?" kyle taunts, a following hiss reminding you that they were all probably kissing each other too. or.

fuck.

your chest falls in heavy sweeps, sweat clinging to your skin, the smell of sex and cum and love in the air --

"john. it's --" you inhale a deep, shaky breath, "john."

"oh, good girl," john praises, a hand falling into your hair and combing through the ends in gentle strokes.

elation fills you, relief flooding your veins, so close --

"but you're wrong."

the thrusts stop, and tears fall from your eyes and trail down your cheeks as you hiccup sobs.

you were so damn close.

a mouth brushes against your ear, and you fail to supress a shudder, the movement so sensual it has your pulse racing tenfold.

it's simon.

"time for a new game, hm?"

[sinning-23]

SIT, LIKE A CHAIR

Opla face sitting/p*ssy eating headcanons

Warnings: dude the title is warming enough lol. ITS 18+ BRO

Zoro

-Fuck around and hover if you want to. He’s already got his arms around your thighs, forcing you to sit.

-He’s got some kind of sorcery or some shit with his tongue cause what the fuck.

-oh you thought he was stopping after you came once? Hahahaha that’s so funny.

-makes sure you are shaking and fucking shivering when he’s done with you

-Will make sure you know how much he loves the way you taste.

-“That’s it honey, cum on my face.”

Usopp

-unfortunately doesn’t know what the FUCK he’s doing when he eats but is very very fucking skilled with his fingers.

-we all know this man’s nose is 5 mf stars and would be nice to sit on and he knows this fact.

-on the occasion that he asks you to sit on his face he’s putting everything to work, using one hand to simultaneously spread your cheeks and keep your things flush against him.

-the other is already coaxing another orgasm out of you while his tongue circle slow around your clit.

-doesn’t talk when his mouth is full, he’s got manners lol

On the rare occasion he does speak it’s often after all is said and done

-“now you can brag about being eaten out by a legendary captain”

Sanji

-oh he eats religiously. Like is that even a question?

-he gets really fucking sloppy too. He’s got your juices and his saliva down his chin and all over your thighs.

-sometimes it feels like the eating is more for him than you (sometimes it is lol)

-expect lots of worship when he’s positioned under you. He prefers to eat when you’re sitting on the edge of the counter or table and he’s kneeling down in front with your legs over his shoulders.

-“I’ve never tasted anything as divine as you. Tout va bien pour moi”

-Has definitely cum from eating you out alone

Nami

-Oh she’s fucking ruthless. I mean just so mean when she eats.

-She likes to draw loving circles on your thighs and then offset that sweetness with a pinch.

-She’ll make it seem like she’ll be nice and let you cum, only to stop completely, eyes laser focused on that adorable little frustrated knot between your brows.

-Is a bit of a shit talker honestly and between how well she works her fingers inside you, how good her tongue feels on your clit, and each teasing comment she throws your way, you’re left spiraling.

-“Ohhh how cute. You gonna cum on my face just like that? You can hold on a little longer can’t you honey?”

Shanks

-If you look closely you can see that his facial hair is slightly bleached.

-We know the fuck why.

-He makes sure you know just how much he loves your pussy when he eats. I mean yes he’s slow and damn near torturous with how he asked you be patient and wait but it’s so worth it.

-He kisses up your thigh, then over the top of your panties. Then will suck and lick over the fabric until it’s soaked.

-Once that’s done, he takes em off with his teeth and licks one long, slow stripe up before deciding to suck on your clit for just a second. Soon after he’s pulling your closer by your thighs and eating you for all your worth.

-He will not talk, well…only if it’s to get you to sit still, his eyes peering dangerously into yours.

- “Don’t. Move.” (its pretty mf hot)

-holds your hand when you finally cum on his tongue.

Buggy

-He the best eater I know- he gets down. He don’t play

-if eating was a sport he’d be the champion.

-Teats your pussy like a meal(because it is in his eyes) and makes sure nothing is left behind besides your own slick, his saliva, and your trembling thighs.

He really gets into it too. I mean he’s moaning against your folds, slurping and drooling.

-This mf is a multitasker. His hands are definitely detached and holding the back of your knees to keep you from closing your legs. and he is working yet another orgasm out of you.

-He's a talker btw so expect lots of witty and raunchy comments while you're practically convulsing from overstimulation.

-"No one makes you feel like how I do huh princess?"

-"That's it honey scream my name."

-“I could eat you forever.” He whines with his mouth full of you

Mihawk

-He's not likely to eat as much. He doesn't dislike it but would rather give to you in other ways. However, despite this little thing about himself, he makes sure it's for a reason when he eats.

-For example, had a bad day? There's a remedy for that, come sit.

-Feeling a bit insecure and self-conscious? Let him show just how amazing you really are.

-Expect to feel a lot of vibrations with how much he growls and moans into your cunt.

-Not too much of a talker but when he does it makes not only your pussy throb but your heart melt.

-"Look at yourself. So beautiful my love." (there's a mirror on the ceiling)

-He isn't afraid to kiss you when he's done either. Wants you to know just how good you taste and that every time he has the privilege of having you sit on his face its like heaven (his words more or less).

[tommydarlings]

fucktoy part 3 | f1 grid

pairing: dom!carlos sainz ; dom!charles leclerc ; mean!dom!max verstappen ; dom!daniel ricciardo x sub!bimbo!reader

warnings: blowjob, mention of gagging, hair pulling, pussy eating, dacryphilia, brief mention of spanking, brief mention of face slapping, brief mention of marking somebody up, humiliation

w/c: 1k

summary: the f1 grid loves to simply use you as their fucktoy or as a stress relief and nothing else.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +65 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

How Carlos would not hesitate to force you onto your knees.

“f-fucking hell, cariño,” were the words you were able to here from your spot on your knees in front of the intimidating Spaniard as his big hand led your head, giving you close to no work. “Esa boca puede chupar pollas, mierda,” that mouth can suck cock, carlos threw his head back and groaned deeply.

You briefly tried your best to looked up at him with your with tears-filled Bambi eyes, batting your eyelashes as good as you could up at him before you gagged on his cock, making him chuckled and looked down at you,

“Too much? No… it’s not too much for that little mouth of yours, estoy en lo cierto?” Am I right?

With pleading eyes and hallowed cheeks, you shook your head and hummed, knowing that you won’t be able to get any words out.

He nodded confidently, “I know I’m right, my angel… I know,” Carlos whispered while his other hand caressed your hallowed cheek, smirk still very visible on his face.

Or how Charles wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to eat you out in his small changing room.

“Every time I eat that pretty pussy of yours it just tastes better and better, mon amour,” he mumbled before you spread your legs further apart and buried his head between your thighs again, messily licking and lightly sucking on your clit while you fisted his hair.

You threw your head back, as always, “Charles! Oh g-god, don’t stop… please!” You whined almost pathetically.

Your heard and felt him giggle into your soaked cunt, “wasn’t planning on stopping, my love.”

He suddenly put his entire mouth around your clit and passionately sucked on his before he flicked it a couple of times with the tip of his tongue, making you cover your mouth.

Charles noticed how your screamed into your palm and quickly raised his hand to remove your hand from your panting mouth,

“oh no, no baby, we don’t do that here… when you’re with me, then I want to hear how I make you feel, you understand? So let me hear you… all of you,” he whispered as he looked up at you from his place on his knees, fingers squeezing your skin as tears blurred your vision.

And then you shook with pleasure as moans and whines escaped your mouth like never before, Charles only smiling into your wet pussy as he continued devouring your most sensitive area with his mouth and tongue.

And how max wouldn’t let you talk to the other drivers in the paddock without leaving his mark on your behind.

He watched you closely, almost like a hunter its prey as you talked to Charles, giggling about something, making his blood boil.

The second Charles left you alone, max walked over to you, his dark gaze not leaving your body.

“What did the two of you talk about, hmm?”

You furrowed your brows but before you could even get a word out, he already grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards the nearest bathroom, harshly throwing you into it and locking the door behind him.

“You want something? Money? Attention? Some spanks or some slaps across your pretty face? You come to me… I can give you all of that and you know it,” he mumbled into your ear from behind, his big hands already lifting your dress up and pulling your panties to the side.

“M-Max, what are y-you-” but your sentence was stopped by your own loud and whiny moan, hand slapping against the wall he pressed you to before you squeezed your eyes shut.

His big hand cradled your chin from behind, thumb caressing your skin as he entered you, roughly fucking you in a fast and almost painful but still pleasurable pace.

He chuckled, his lips kissing your temple, “you feel that? You feel me inside of you? That’s the only thing that should be filling your tight cunt up, okay?” He whispered, making you nod.

“Good girl,” he kissed your cheek, comfortingly kissing your tears away, “and those beautiful tears, god baby… you know how to drive me crazy, don’t you?” He smiled.

Daniel would use you to fulfill his needs all the time, giving you close to no break.

After a good qualifying or a race win, you would be in his driver’s room already, pathetically bend over the arm of the couch while Daniel is grinning like a devil behind you, your clothes long gone.

“Don’t act like you didn’t beg for that all day long, saw you looking at me with those big, teary eyes, almost couldn’t resist myself to fuck that pretty hole in front of everybody,” he whispered into your ear from behind before moving his head down to kiss your shoulder and neck.

You whined, fingers gripping the soft material of the couch so roughly that your knuckles turned white, “N-Not true-” you gasped as his thrusts into your pussy got harsher, one hand pressing your body down by your waist while the other one got a merciless grip of your hair, swiftly pulling your head upwards.

You gasped while he chuckled, dark pupils starring down at you, “not true you say?” He bit his lip, thrusts getting slower but harder, making you choke on your breath each time,

“Not true she’s says,” he quickly pecked the top of your head while listening to your cries, smile not fading, “how funny.”

Your head fell forward but daniel didn’t like that, in a matter of seconds, he tangled his long fingers in your hair and pulled your head back up, his other hand pressing more down onto your waist, forcing you to arch your back for him even more,

“Oh no no no, baby… you stay here, okay? Right here,” you squeezed your eyes shut, tears covering your cheeks as your hands trembled with each thrust, “look at me… c'mon look up at me, baby,” he mumbled, smirking as you obeyed and opened your eyes again.

“Just like that,” daniel grinned down at you, praising you quietly before he kissed the top of your head again.

[nanivinsmoke]

✩ Eat Me, Number One.

✩ allmight x pro!heroFem reader

wanting to get a little taste of the number one hero, during the hero’s banquet.

✩ warnings and tags: public sex, secret sex, ass eating, rough sex, multiple orgasms, nipple play, breeding, size difference, age gap, (late 20s reader), etc.

shout out to my editor, tysm <333!

“fuck, this latex is sticking to my skin. shota, can we go? im not in the mood for this uppity shit, maybe we can get some ramen or something?”

“no, unfortunately the both of us are stuck here. i lost yamada an hour ago, which is really odd since he’s the loudest one out of all of us.” aizawa, your best friend and colleague, replied as he took a bite of the salty chip in his mouth. you sighed and downed the shot in front of you, while tugging on the latex of your hero suit with your free hand.

the three of you were currently attending the annual hero’s banquet, which was made for all heroes to meet and mingle with each other. yamada had spotted the karaoke room and tip-toed away from the group when the three of you arrived, leaving you and aizawa alone. you both hated coming to these things, but yamada forced both of you to come every time.

“gonna find the bathroom and possibly yamada, so we can leave.” your dry-eyed friend gave you a nod before you took your leave; grabbing a shot from a tray a waiter was carrying—downing it like it was nothing. getting hammered was your goal. maybe you could get *him* off of your mind. you maneuvered through the crowd of heros, mind bubbling with thoughts before your eyes landed on the huge figure of the number one hero; allmight.

it might’ve been the liquor finally taking its toll on your body, making your legs feel like jelly or just seeing him period, that had butterflies filling your stomach. you were beyond nervous, it had been months since the last time you’ve seen him. the last time you did wasn’t the best experience. "duty calls" he had said before he ran off. but, you weren’t gonna let that one time stop you from saying ‘hello’ and running off to find the bathroom.

you managed to walk over and tap the bottom of his muscular back, his seven foot frame towering over you as he turned toward you. his usual ‘smiling’ eyes softened when he saw you and he kept that same bright smile like always. “y/n, it’s good to see you.”

“likewise,” you quickly turned on your heels as your memories from that terrible night plagued your mind. “wait—y/n,” he grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled you back towards him, his eyes scanning your face before dropping to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “can we talk?” you gave a quick nod and he pulled you away. you wanted to get answers, closure for the last time you two saw each other, so you could finally stop cringing at the memory.

the older pro hero led you through the crowd and into an empty room, which happened to be the bathroom. the seven foot tall man closed the door behind you both, and locked it—before turning to look at your smaller, yet curvy frame.

“y/n, I just wanted to apologize for last time. it wasn’t your fault that the date ended like that. i never meant to leave you like that. i know duty calls, but I should have never left like that without telling you, i'm sorry.” his voice was soft, sincere, and you could tell by his body language that he truly meant it.

a few months ago, you had went on a date with the number one hero. it was all going good, you had gotten to know each other really well during drinks and when you two had finally made it your table for food, he just disappeared in a blink of an eye. he didn’t call nor try to reach out to you, which made you become very insecure—leading you to believe that he didn’t actually like you.

“you don’t have to apologize—“

“but, i do. you were wonderful and im a little disappointed I couldn’t make this into something more serious; didn’t have the opportunity to kiss you—.”

“you wanted to kiss me?” it was silent for a moment, both of your eyes locked onto each other’s. the more the two of you stared at each other, the more your body temperature rose. everything about him was so captivating. maybe that was a perk of being one of the best hero’s japan has ever seen, but you were definitely falling for him.

it was sudden but his lips were on yours and all you could do was happily accept. your lips melted onto each other’s, dancing a smoother dance than a tango—with your tongue sliding into his mouth, tongues swirling around each other's. you couldn’t fight your growing arousal anymore, the crush that you had on the older man was bigger than ever.

he swiftly picked you up, not breaking the kiss not once. it was like a scene in a movie with the way he handled you. he propped you up against the white bathroom door, while he made love to your mouth. you clutched onto his yellow locks, pulling away from this kiss that had left you breathless. “think you teased me enough, number one. i need more of you.”

he had never been more turned on, until now. with one hand holding you up, he used the other hand to unzip your hero costume—freeing your plump and swollen breasts. allmight quickly wrapped his lips around your tender love buds, began to suck on them like it was the best candy he had ever tasted. you couldn’t suppress your moans; letting them flow freely out of your kiss-bitten lips.

he removed his mouth from your nipples, kissing between your breats and down your stomach. “allmight—please~”

“toshinori,” he corrected with a squeeze to your ass; making you squeal out. you had long forgotten about the party, or the possibility of other people being there.

“toshinori, please. just fuck me already.” he was taken aback by your vulgar words, but it riled him up even more. your hero suit fell down in an instant and he was lifting you off to the other side of the bathroom. using his quirk, he slid the toiletries off the sink’s counter and placed you on your knees—your ass sitting up in the air just for him; allowing him to dive his head right in between.

gasping, you held onto the marble countertop, while he licked your from your ass all the way down to your swollen clit. his fluid mixing with yours created a slippery mess, which caused you to go crazy. no wonder he was considered a pro.

“shit toshi—just like that, fuck…” you bounced your ass back onto his face, his big hands gripped your waist tighter; lips still attached to your wet clit. you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you and you were ready to accept it. however, much to your dismay, he pulled away from your dripping wet backside.

“wait toshi, i was gonna cum.” he ignored you, flipping you over onto your back; looking at you in all your glory before he gripped himself through his suit. “look, im going to warn you. you might not be able to take all of me, and that’s okay—,” you cut off his rambling by replacing his hand with yours on his bulge, fondling it. it left him groaning, eyes shutting from the pleasure.

“i'm a big girl, i can handle it. besides, a hero never backs down from a fight.” he chuckled at your response and gave you one last look, before he let his blue hero suit and briefs fall to the ground; showing all of him.

you could’ve sworn your eyes had fell out of your head due to how widen you opened them. standing about nine inches tall, his cock greeted you; dripping nothing but translucent fluid. it stood against his abs, twitching with need. not only was he lengthy, he was girthy too. you couldn’t help but to gulp as you thought about him entering you.

as much as you were nervous, you swallowed that doubt and angled him towards your aching entrance; after all you were a hero, you couldn’t let this scare you.

pushing him inside of you, you winced at the pressure—you had never been spread open like that. profanities flew out your mouth as he helped push himself inside, your soft walls clenching around his shaft; making him curse lowly.

he was only half way inside, since that’s all that could fit, and he began to move his hips slowly. the more toshinori moved—the wetter you became. soon, the sound of your cunt squelching and your lewd mewls filled the bathroom—driving the older man crazy. he was losing control over himself, each time you made those sexy noises; he wanted to slam himself deeper inside of you. to hear you yelp out and to feel you squeeze around him. to see all the cream build around him. to see how far he could drive you to insanity just by fucking you.

despite being a hero, the way he was thinking about punishing you with his dick; contradicted his heroic beliefs.

you on the other hand felt like you were going to die, in the most pleasurable way possible. each time he plunged inside of you, his thick tip hit your spot everytime—causing your toes to curl so tight; they felt like they were going to fall off. you babbled and moaned as he fucked the living shit out of you, calling his name while an orgasm ripped through you.

this was the most intense orgasm you had ever had. you were disconnected from reality a bit because of it, so you didn’t realize that you were no longer on the sink’s counter and now on the bath’s plush blue rug—until toshinori slammed down into you once again.

“fuck, you just keep getting tighter and wetter!” you had never heard him curse this much before, it was turning you on more and more.

he had you in the mating press position, hitting your most sensitive spot each time, while your hips and his balls met each time. you cunt was beyond wet, your juices dripped out and slid down onto the ground—creating a huge puddle underneath you.

you could feel him twitch inside of you and his strokes became faster and harder. he was cumming, hard.

a knock on the bathroom door startled you, causing you to look at it.

“hey! can you hurry up, i really gotta use it,” a voice could be heard from the other side, following another knock. you looked at allmight, waiting for his next move.

“in a minute….having some—shit—s-s-stomach problems”

“c’mon dude! you’ve been in there for like an hour”

“in a minute!” he yelled back, not stopping his movements. he was going to cum and nothing was going to stop him from finishing. with a few more slams, he released inside of you; while you came once more with him—this time you squirted all over him.

he grabbed your smaller body and rolled over on his back, with you lying on top of his sweaty, naked body.

“we’re going to need a plan to come out of here without them suspecting a thing,” you chuckled, peppering his chiseled face with kisses.

“this is why we have quirks, to get out of situations like this. now let’s get dressed, so i could show you more of why I’m number one~”

[fushiguho]

Quite literally frothing at the mouth imagining Getou and Gojo taking turns with you but they're also desperately pining each other. On some Challengers-esce shit...

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･

Getou would absolutely have your legs pressed open, his warm palms splayed across the plush underside of your thighs whilst he stretches you out, fucking you with all his weight. Fat, eager cock buried so deep inside of you, the tip leaking against your swollen cervix, wordlessly begging to fill you up.

Gojo is never too far. He's kneeled right beside you on the unkempt sheets, his cock sensitive and dripping with precum in his closed fist. Idly, he strokes himself, completely enthralled as he intently watches you gasp and writhe under his best friend. Truthfully, he hates when Getou steals you all for himself so he reaches hand down your tummy to rub at your clit, eliciting a string of helpless whines from your gaped mouth.

"Oh, fuck look at her back arch like that... you like it, baby? Do my fingers feel so good with his cock inside of you, huh? Is it too much?" Gojo coos, his voice hushed and salacious.

"Yeah, baby talk to us... feels so good doesn't it? Be our good girl 'n tell us how much you like us all over you." Getou encourages.

Your brain nearly short circuits. You don't know whether to nod or shake your head so you babble incoherently, muttering words of praise and little gasps of pleasure in hopes they'd make sense of your broken jargon. The two men share a deep chuckle between their lingering glances of mutual pining and carnal desire.

How is it possible to lose all sense of yourself at the hands of two men so quickly? So willingly? Nobody's holding a gun to your head, forcing you to do this. Yes, you like it. No, it's not too much. Or maybe it is too much and you just can't differentiate anymore because you're too drunk off cock. All you can do is hum as you nod dumbly, eyes threatening to cross while you bite back an onslaught of whimpers.

You hardly even register the way Getou draws Gojo closer by the nape of his neck, slotting his lips against his in a sloppy kiss, his cock steadily bullying its way deeper and deeper inside of your cunt. It's almost animalistic the way Gojo groans as he lolls out his tongue, eagerly tasting Getou's willing mouth from the inside, their tongues lapping against one another. Even the subtle exchange of saliva had their cocks lewdly twitching.

Getou holds Gojo's head taut as they moan into each other's mouths, the timbre of their hums like kindle to the ever-growing flame in your core. Their noses brush against one another from the abut closeness. The view above you was like nothing you've ever seen, utterly and completely peerless. Part of you wouldn't mind if this became an everyday occurrence...

I actually can’t believe I’ve never written about this duo before. It is truly a rite of passage for all Jujutsu Kaisen writers. Please let me know if you want me to expand on this concept!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･

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[gremlingottoosilly]

That Unwanted Animal [COD Fantasy AU] CursedKnight!Ghost x fem!Reader

Ghost was cursed ever since his king helped him get back to life from his grave. A stench of death, strong and inescapable, renders him unable to find a woman who will be willing to bed him. What will happen when he finally finds a perfect mate? CW and Tags: Dub-con, power imbalance, Medieval Fantasy AU, knight!Ghost, servant!Reader, sex work, brothels, dub-con kissing and touching, obsessive Ghost, dark Ghost, basically Ghost finds a girl and forces her to be his, Ghost is a half-dead resurrected knight, soft reader, submissive Reader.

AO3 Word Count: 2209

“I won’t go to him, he smells!”

“Drop the act, princess, not even half of our guests reek of anything more than their drinks and foul meat.” 

“You know how he smells, Katherine. You know what he is.” “What he is, is a client. Rich one. Do you wish to moan under the belly of another failing merchant? Or a peasant’s dick is more to your liking?” “I bring this place more than half of its earnings! I won’t bed a man who has barely got out of his grave and should be put back!” Ghost sighs, his head pressed against the wooden wall. For a brothel, this place has remarkably thin walls. For a brothel, girls out here have remarkably potent noses – and acquired tastes for anything that doesn’t taste like a man who was brought back to life with dead souls still clinging onto every inch of his very being. 

For a man of his regals – the blessed knight, the cursed knight, the kiss-your-enemies-goodnight, the spill-your-blood-he might, he has a particular choice in the brothel he tried to entertain himself with. Not like any willing woman would bed him without a sum of gold enough to feed a family for months – and not like he stood low enough to force himself on poor servants of his castle, bringing his dignity and family name down with each handmaiden he tried to grope while on meeting with the king. 

“Do you think he is really dead?” “Dead man wouldn’t need a cunt to drown himself in. He had to have something working.” “Maybe he likes to watch? Or to hurt.” “Maybe, we can’t afford to turn him down, princess. Drop your act before he is willing to burn us down for refusing him.” “Well, I heard he went through every brothel in town. Not a single soul bedded him!” “I heard he doesn’t even like girls. Has his royal knight by his side all day.” “He came alone.” “He will be coming alone for the rest of his life with a smell like this!” “Dark magic. King should have known to not trust the Empire and their lurkings.” “Having a blessed knight is good, no? We’re not at war.” “Cursed knight is good in your army, not your bed. But if you are so willing…”

He hears women – from the madam of this fine place, a woman of fine manners, exquisite figure, and the way of looking at him that almost convinces that she doesn’t want to press her fingers against her nose, blocking the smell of death that follows him ever since he became…that. He hears girls of not-so-fine manners, with fine bodies and perfect pretty faces, gentle hands that don’t know about the trials of war. He remembers the way they looked at him – the way they always looked at him. 

Scary, horrendous, dangerous. A skull mask and dark tendrils of smoke follow his body, the Grim Reaper himself embedded in his dark armor. No matter how many perfumes he uses, no matter how many washes per day he forces himself onto, nothing can hide the stench of death. He thought he’d be fine with it as long as his battle brothers were with him – as long as he was with them. 

Then he got lonely. 

Finding a lay in the brothel would be a scandal for a man of his status – but Simon Riley is no man. Not anymore, at least. 

“I bet he wears a mask because he is hideous.” “Maybe he is just wounded?” “What kind of wound would make him hide his face while not being hideous?” “Maybe, he just doesn’t want to show his face here.” “No use. By the dawn, all women in the capital will know about great lord Riley, refuced at every brothel.” “What if he kills us?” “What if he burns us?” “What if he…” “Let the servant bring him tea. Make her useful.” Before he could react – as if eavesdropping on a bunch of whores was something of a pleasant chore he was dealing with – a door to his room had opened. Girl, in much simpler clothes than the ones that courtesans were wearing. With a tea tray in her shaky hands, grabbing the poor thing like there was no tomorrow. Huh. Perhaps, with a mug like his as her client, there is no tomorrow for a poor girl. 

Ghost sits on the bed, large, muscular legs spread, his dick swaying with attention the longer he is looking at your face. He can’t be picky, not in his state as a not-dead not-man, but he has to admit that you’re pretty. Without all the mannerisms of a prostitute, you look like a poor deer stuck in the predator’s den. Your hands are shaking – but he looks at your face, having no shame in drinking up your expression like a vampire – and he didn’t once saw you wince at the smell. Hm. Must be potent tea you’re serving. 

— I didn’t ask for the tea. 

Rude, as always – he didn’t come here to be ridiculed by poor attempts at pleasing him without a girl under him, getting her pretty legs open for his cock. He didn’t intend to come here and listen to all of the workers laughing at him like he was a monster – yet, he can’t leave now, his wounded ego grows into something ugly. 

— Most of our clients prefer to drink this before the…act. It makes them more potent, as they say. 

His cock didn’t have any warm body to dump his semen in years. He doesn’t need tea to make him hard – he sees the glimpse of your skin under those simple robes of yours, and he can already feel it stir, standing up for attention. 

— You don’t sound too certain. Your client must not drink it then. 

— I…I am not a prostitute, sir. Merely a servant. 

He knows already – your makeup is too plain, your manners are off, your clothes are simple grey wool with not a dash of color. If you were his – as a prostitute, a wife, a lover – he would bring you something much brighter and skimpier. You’d look good in silks, he thinks. 

Not like you’d allow him to bring you home – not willingly, at least. 

— So I figured, love. You’re pretty enough to be one, that’s clear. 

“You’re pretty enough to be a prostitute” is a compliment that only sounds good in the head of a man who hasn’t talked sweetly to a woman in ages. His whole life, perhaps, exchanging the embrace of a lady with tight hugs of the war. 

— You’re flattering me, sir. 

— Bloody hell, woman. Not a flattery if that’s the truth. 

— If you say so. 

You shift under his gaze like a rabbit in front of an apex predator. Ghost doesn’t want to force any woman to sleep with him – but he looks at the sway of your chest, at the softness of your hips, at the way you tug and scratch on the rough fabric of your skirt as you’re too nervous to look at him…

He must contain himself. 

— Why you work as a servant? 

— I…tried to be a prostitute, sir. Most clients here don’t like it when you’re not…

He slowly rocks his body closer to you, his head almost laying on your shoulder. He saw the way you looked at him as he leaned to you – you’re surprised, scared, but not disgusted. your nose didn’t twitch a single time, and he is sure that no tea would ever make you this blind to the stench of death lingering on your shoulder now. 

There must be something wrong with you – and he wants to save you like a rare treasure because of it. 

— Most clients here don’t like what, luv? 

— I…have damage, sir. 

So he figured. Just didn’t exactly know what you have. 

— What is it? 

— A…after a bad cold, my sense of smell…never returned. Not for the last three years. 

— You don’t smell anythin’? Must be bloody hard. 

— It is. But…I manage. As much as I can. 

He slowly drapes his hand over your shoulder – you wince at the touch. He thinks of the madam of your fine establishment. The woman didn’t seem the type to beat her girls, but you had such a shy, scared expression as he started to touch you, he can’t wait to burn this fucking place to the ground. Maybe spare a few of your friends if you’d ask him nicely. You won’t be working here again, ever – that much he can be sure of. 

— Doin’ a good job, love. 

— I hope so, sir. 

He drags his hand on your face, squeezing the soft skin of your cheek. You’re adorable – servants shouldn’t be so pretty, it makes him feel bad, it makes him sinful. He should try to hit on the girls who actually work here – not the poor soul that as sent here to bring him here, as a little lam sacrificed to a vicious god. 

— You don’t smell me, then? 

— I don’t smell anything, my lord. 

He chuckles, but your pained expression only makes him chuckle more. Poor thing, living in a place like this without a sense of smell – he can’t believe how you could survive without the smell of heavy incense and creams that all of the whores were using. He loves it when a pretty girl is making herself even prettier – makeup, all of those little elixirs they are putting on their faces, the flowery smells that make his rotting existence a bit easier. It never worked on him, on his disintegrating skin and stench that followed him everywhere – but then it dawned on him. 

You have such an adorable, shy smile and a small posture, playing with the edges of your clothes like a girl who is extremely embarrassed to be in a room with a man of his position. But women aren’t shy in his presence, not anymore – they are disgusted, horrified, they want to put their noses into little candy boxes and smell roses just to get rid of the smell. 

But you, adorable creature, aren’t disgusted. Hell, how he missed a pretty girl being so shy around him. 

Ghost kisses you before he can think of anything else. Before he could give you space to escape, to come to your senses and understand what kind of man he is. Broken, wounded, pushed to the cage, and locked with a key dangling from the side – god knows, Simon Riley isn’t a good man, never tried to be. Devil knows, he will drag you to the grave with him. 

Your lips are soft, untouched, you smell of cleaning supplies and sweet tea. Your hair smells like roses and dust, your hands are covered in little scabs – probably from the days spent cleaning and doing the hard work. He will make sure you will never have to work again, not with your hands, at least – he will kiss your callouses and nourish the skin into something delicate, fragile, to the smell of home he lost long ago. 

Your mouth tastes like heaven, and Ghost isn’t a man who deserves to push this angel further, isn’t a man who deserves to have a pretty girl moaning under him. He makes you cry, he terrifies you, he kisses you relentlessly and can feel the way your skin burns, tears streaming down your face. If he was a better man, he would oblige to your hands, pushing him away, your mouth is trying to cry for help. 

Simon Riley isn’t a good man, and he pushes you on your back, firms hands on your back, on your hips, touching, groping, feeling the skin of a somewhat willing woman. You’re scared, but you should know the kind of job girls here are doing – he didn’t pay all of this money for charity projects, after all. As much as he would pay even more gold just to take you away, to push your legs apart in a scenery much nicer than a room in a brothel. You deserve a real bed, a nice dress that he can rip away from you, 

All you get is his hands on your body, ripping your simple skirt apart because he can’t wait to get to the soft skin underneath. He looks at you, precious girl, as adorable as you are, and can’t resist kissing you, stealing breath from your skin. When he finally hears you moan, when his hand goes to grab the softness between your legs – moist, prepared, smelling of roses and arousal, of all things sweet and sinful – all of his sense of self-control shatters. 

He will take you on the floor of this room – over and over, claim you as his little maiden, his favorite girl, until he is sure his cursed, rotten seed has filled you to the brim. He will take you away, bringing as much money to your madam as he can manage, buying you all for himself – taking you as his prized possession for the new castle he was ordered to as a lord knight. 

Ghost will make you his, hells and heaven be damned. 

You cry, but he knows you’ll come around. And he can be very, very patient. 

[malereadermaniac]

Camp Buddy x Male Reader NSFW alphabets

Top!Characters x Bottom!Reader Characters: Keitaro, Hiro, Yoichi, Natsumi, Taiga, Seto, Aiden, Yoshinori, Naoto, Lloyd, Darius Each character will have 3-4 letters of the alphabet assigned to them (everyone having the letter K, and it being based off of the cannon camp buddy journal) Word count: 9.2k Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI Kind of a 2k special?

Keitaro

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Keitaro doesn't have a specific kink that gets him going, if anything, his favourite thing to do during sex is to pleasure you; and if that means participating in any and all of your kinks, he sure as hell will do just that! So really his specialty is having a 'blank slate' or such an open mind - which really is endearing, it makes you feel so comfortable to suggest something new that you'd be into; and it's so hot when Keitaro not only shows interest in your kinks but also clearly enjoys them. This innocent man is willing to go from handcuffing you and fucking you until you're overstimulated to letting you get all dominant and ride him to high heaven! Being so flexible in his power dynamics and his fetishes allows Keitaro to enjoy whatever you throw his way, and it makes the sex so fucking good.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Again, due to the brunette's more flexible nature, he'll enjoy anything to do with cum; but that doesn't mean he doesn't have his favourite scenarios. For example, when it comes to his own orgasms, Keitaro really likes the tightness of cumming inside of you; his moans becoming sluttier and his arms wrapping around you to keep your hot, sweaty body against his as Keitaro shoots his thick, pearly white load inside of you, your warm, tight fucking hole clenching around his perfect dick. When you blow him, Keitaro definitely prefers cumming inside of your mouth; its that warmth and that tightness again that really does it for him, Keitaro is usually unable to let go of your hair as he forces you to take him all the way when he lets his hot jizz flow down your clenching throat. On the other hand, when it comes to your own spunk, Keitaro has such a fixation on tasting you... This man will be fucking you until you shoot your load all over your stomach and chest, then he'll slow his pace down to a soft rut into you as he bends down and runs his warm, wet tongue up your body; lapping up all of your cum onto his tongue and playing with it inside of his mouth, giving you a cute smile as he swallows and mumbles 'tasty as always'. And you can imagine that Keitaro's little fixation on your taste increases ten-fold when he's sucking you off or eating you out~

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Once again his open-mindedness really helps Keitaro and you when it comes to where you both fuck! You both prefer the standard bedroom of course, nothing beats the comfort of messing about in your own sheets knowing that there won't be any interruption and that the two of you can get as messy and as loud as you want. Yet, you and Keitaro aren't opposed to some public play, your boyfriend turning out to be quite the tease when at dinner with friends by running his hand up your thigh and eventually just straight-up using your crotch as a stress-toy! Fucking in public bathrooms isn't uncommon for you two, you just can't help yourselves! Oh and back when you both met at camp? Poor Natsumi caught the two of you fucking IN THE OCEAN after swimming up to you both because he though you two were getting swept away by the tide... BUT IN YOUR DEFENSE- giving a blowjob underwater isn't something you can do everyday, and Keitaro had never felt so fucking good in his life (although the poor man was worried that you wouldn't be able to breathe).

Hiro

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Foodplay is Hiro's main thing. The man's a cook, what else would you expect? The ginger not only likes to cook for you and watch you enjoy his tasty meals, but when it comes to fucking, Hiro is so into getting messy; and you aren't against it as long as he cleans up afterwards! Hiro's favourite thing to do is definitely to whip up some frosting on the more liquid side and use a spatula to drip it up his naked, muscular body - the white cream contrasting your boyfriend's tan skin very nicely. Then the ginger will entice you to come and lick him clean, his dick twitching at every swipe of your tongue across his abs or his biceps, his pits or even his face; Hiro going feral whenever you smoothly go from licking sweet cream off of his cheeks to kissing him. Hiro also gets going from the praises that fall from your mouth as you enjoy the sweet taste of whatever he's glazed his body in, relishing your praise of his cooking or baking skills by calling the food tasty and calling him sexy. This man is also totally into getting you covered in some food too and worshiping your body along the way. Hiro's favourite sexual experience ever being with you one year on his birthday, one of the presents you gave him being the permission for Hiro to decorate you like a cake and do whatever he wanted to; and of course this horny fucker took you up on that! You has dollops of whipped cream on your nipples with candied cherries acting as the buds, chocolote drizzle down your belly and straweberries on either side of your dick n balls - you looked quite pretty, and god damn you tasted good too! Hiro started by plucking a cherry from your nipples with his teeth (looking hot as fuck while doing so) and then licking down your torso for the chocolate and so on - to summaries, that night went on for a while and a lot of whipped cream had been licked off of your body while Hiro was fucking you, so much whipped cream that four canisters were in the bin the next morning!

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Let's be real here, of fucking course HIRO AKIBA is a goofy motherfucker in bed! Yeah there are serious moments where the man wants to really prove or show his love for you, and in those moments he'll tone down the giggles and touch you more, softly caressing you or holding onto your body as his pace is more slow and romantic; praise is typical in these moments from Hiro. However, usually, your boyfriend is so unserious during sex, he wants to have fun after all! Enjoy the moment with you ya know? Cracking jokes is typical, always timed perfectly and never made awkward; Hiro can always get a laugh out of you, in fact he's developed the perfect formula to allow him to hear your perfect little giggles and chuckles when he's balls deep! Hiro will start with a compliment of you, and then use some fuckass metaphor or comparison which always makes you laugh: "Your so perfect... ya know... hah.... you're the only thing I ever think about" Hiro would pant in between thrusts "Oh yeah?" you would return, too tired to and horny to match his charisma "Oh for sure... Well maybe I think about food more but Ya know!" "Oh shut up... hah" you would laugh and moan at your stupid boyfriends funny remark

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This man needs to chill the hell out... Because the way that Hiro can go, and is willing to go (!), until he physically collapses!?! It's worrisome that your boyfriend's brain gets completely overridden by his libido and all common sense and survival goes out the window... Hiro will be in literal pain, his thighs searing in pain and his dick stinging from cumming so many times and he will STILL go for another round if you're up for it! Typically, the two of you can go for a solid 3 rounds; sometimes 4 because your lovable boyfriend's only shortfall is that he barely lasts 10 minuets once he's inside of you (He can't help it! you just feel too good!). But on nights when the two of you are blind-sighted by your infatuation and desperation for one another, Hiro can make up to 9 rounds (shooting literal blanks) before his body literally gives out - but the sleep afterwards is astronomical, I'm talking 15h of sleep, naked and next to the man he loves. Not exactly healthy but that's why the two of you only do something like that extremely rarely.

Yoichi

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As is common knowledge, most guys who display and value their strength during their daily lives usually have the fattest desire to be fucking dominated - and Yoichi is no different! This hunk has a fat bondage kink to begin with (we're talking latex, ballgags, rope, handcuffs, the whole lot) and to mix that with being told what to do and/or being used as some sort of sex toy by his handsome, sexy boyfriend? Yoichi was a) In love & b) Hard as a rock! It's not like the wolfboy wants to participate in shit like this all the time (it's more of a guilty pleasure than his favourite scenario, this man still loves to be in control!) but Yoichi enjoys it when he gets to be more of a subtop and let you put in some of the work for once! Yoichi fucking loves it when you get him naked, handcuff him to a chair and suck his dick until he cries; his begs for you to stop and his slutty whines egging you one and making your dick hard, and the ego boost you get when you follow Yoichi's request to stop, and the man whines 'nooo' from the loss of pleasure, is great too. Your hunky boyfriend is also suuuuper into having you use his dick like a dildo, he gets so hard watching you tie ropes around his wrists and ankles as you tie Yoichi to the bed, and JESUS when you ride him like that? The man finds it so fucking hard not to cum! The way you use him like some sex toy whilst he can't even reach out to touch you? It shoots his puffed up ego down so fucking good. Oh! And when you two get freaky with it in this way, Puppyplay is a big thing for Yoichi! Fucking hell, the way you talk down to him and praise him in a such a patronising manner makes the man leak gallons of precum from his twitching cock! He loves is when you put a whole leash around his neck and a god damn muzzle on him, a fluffly, long wolf tail buttplug in his ass which you tug on as he fucks you roughly - it's the perfect combination, makes Yoichi cum so damn quick!

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

As you can expect from your rugged and rough boyfriend, this bitch does not shave. Anywhere. It wasn't until you came along that he even started to put effort into his appearance! The two of you wax together as little evening dates, waxing each other in a very domestic manner - but it really is unfair, cause you only get to wax Yoichi's chest n back and that man gets to see you writhe in pain waxing so much more!! But, unfortunately (so fucking fortunately), Yoichi never dares to touch his armpits or his pride and joy (his cock n balls); which leaves the man with very bushy, dark purple armpits and pubes, and we're talking a fucking forest downstairs... And Yoichi is not one to stray away from any form of dominance, so you best believe that your face is smushed into his hairy, sweaty pits a lot of the time, and that his musky pubes stuff your nose every single time you kindly give your boyfriend a blowjob. Yoichi likes to show this off too! Flexing his big, manly muscles in a tanktop so that his damp pit hair can make a tiny cameo; or even pulling his bottoms and the waistband of his boxers just a tinge lower so his bush n happy trail are on full display. This man loves to tease you with his sexy body hair, you can't complain though, it gets you going every time!

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Now whilst Yoichi isn't the most sentimental guy out there, he can't deny the fact that he is absolutely smitten by you; so he does show his romantic side more than his 'though guy' act would like him to. Obviously, when your horny boyfriend wants to either let out some stress or sexual frustration, or he just wants to fuck, you two will be less 'rose petals and wine' about it and just go feral on each other; as in, Yoichi absolutely abuses your prostate with his massive, thick cock as his huge body envelopes yours, his bite marks on your neck and yours on his. But when Yoichi feels the need to express his love for you, he takes it seriously - the man wants you to know that he fuckin adores you! The woldboy would light some candles for mood lighting and spray himself with your favourite cologne of his, he'd be all up on you once you enter the room and immediately talk to you in such a sexy way: "Thought we could take it slower today, what d'ya think, cutie" And when it's a more 'spur of the moment' thing, Yoichi gets more intimate by slowing his pace down and toning down the roughness, lowering down to make out with you passionately as he gently fucks you in deep thrusts, rubbing his dickhead against your prostate and using his six-pack as a fucking washboard as he rubs your dick between your own stomach and his abs.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This horny fucker can't function if he doesn't cum by 10am, and on average Yoichi cums twice a day - so if you aren't around to help him out, or just aren't in the mood, of course Yoichi will have a little time to himself. If you can't be asked to go through all the prep to bottom in the morning, Yoichi usually has to deal with morning wood by himself; which he isn't against, yeah he'd like to have sex with you but this man is surprisingly the king of consent (bare minimum guys don't forget!). Typically, Yoichi's favourite combo during masturbation is watching porn whilst smelling some of your clothing, it helps him to imagine you and him in whatever porno he's jerking it to. But sometimes the man will just go with his imagination, putting you and him the most filthy scenarios in his head as Yoichi closes his eyes and goes to fucking town with a fleshlight. And of course the man will jack off if you are so kind as to send him some certain types of pictures when you two are apart. The amount of times Yoichi has ran to the bathroom when helping out Yoshinori at camp so that he could jerk off to pictures and videos you'd sent him; his favourites being the ones with you in his clothing, using a dildo or just wanking whilst moaning his name, makes this man throb in his jeans within seconds!

Natsumi

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Something that really gets Natsumi in the mood, and gives him the confidence to show off, is underwear! With his lean, muscular figure and massive package, your handsome boyfriend is the ideal underwear model; he feels confident when modelling different briefs and boxers and jocks for you, liking the way you eye up his huge bulge and slowly get hard, Natsumi stiffening up himself. On the modelling side, Natsumi likes to try on many different types of underwear! Tight, latex speedos make all of the details of his dick visible, from his head, to his veins and the small size of them even shows off his pubes n happy trail! Jockstraps show off his muscular ass whilst still giving you a nice view of Natsumi's big dick, the fabric nice and loose allowing his balls to sag and make his bulge look even bigger. Your boyfriend's standard briefs fit him so well, the star pattern getting so sexily distorted from the size of his dick and the fabric being short enough to just tease his muscular upper-thighs. Oh and fucking hell when Natsumi models boxers he looks so damn hot, the loose fabric making his muscular body look leaner, and DAMN when he gives you a little peak of his massive cock by slipping it through the front hole?? So hot. This horny man also gets the hots for smelling underwear too! Just cause he seems innocent doesn't mean he can't get perverted! Natsumi gets so fucking turned on when he pushes his nose against your clothed bulge, smelling your natural scent drives him wild as he prepares to blow you. And yes, Natsumi is a little ashamed to admit that he has taken your worn underwear out of the wash basket to hold them to his face whilst jerking off.... A pervert in hiding I tell you!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Oh bless Natsumi's little heart - he's so good at aftercare! This man must be an angle sent from above, because the way he will fuck you silly with that massive dick, temporarily paralyzing you from the waist down, and then immediately run a bath and carry you to the bathroom bridal style? Ugh it just makes you fall even deeper in love with your charming boyfriend! Natsumi's standard routine is very complex and organised; what else would you expect? He starts by letting you both bask in the afterglow and get a breather before reluctantly leaving your side to run a hot bath. Then, you barely even register that Natsumi had left the bed by the time he's wiping your body clean of cum and sweat and then picking you up to take a bath with you; and this adorable man will sit behind you in the tub as he washes your hair and body as he kisses the few hickeys he'd left on you (because this man isn't biting you even if you beg.). By the end of the night, the two of you are in a freshly made bed and cuddling in very comfortable (yet ridiculous looking) positions under the covers.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Oh and after his whole aftercare routine, Natsumi usually falls asleep so quick; but not before he can watch you fall asleep in his arms, not before he can listen to you calmly breathing and take in the beauty you naturally exude as you peacefully sleep. Very rarely does Natsumi fall asleep straight away, but when he does you can't blame him; it's literally coded into his brain that he goes to sleep at 10pm sharp, so staying up till 12am or 1am to put in a lot of energy whilst fucking can get to him! When he wakes up all sticky and sees you in such a disheveled state the next morning, Natsumi can't stop apologising for the whole day, listening to you like a puppy in hopes to not upset you further (even though you weren't upset to begin with).

Taiga

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Your boyfriend has felt very powerless before when the whole camp hated him, so anything that makes him feel dominant and strong really gets Taiga going; and body worship really hits the mark. Taiga prefers you to praise and to focus on his body in the form of massages; your soft hands deeply pressing into your boyfriend's oiled up muscles, your gentle voice spewing out praises of his body being 'strong' and 'perfect', it gets this man hard within a couple of minuets. Taiga likes to have you on his body, your dick rubbing against his as you massage his fat pecs and your face hovering above his as Taiga focuses on your pretty face - lit candles and aphrodisiac body oil really add to the experience too, oh and when you move on to jerking Taiga off? This man is so shocked he doesn't cum instantly; your oiled up, hot hand feeling like heaven around his cock, and the sight of your semi-naked form servicing him is just such a hot view! When Taiga isn't getting a massage from you, he still likes to incorporate some sort of body worship when fucking you, and he even worships your body too! Praises are common from Taiga as he thrusts into you whilst also licking up to your jaw all the way from your abdomen, your muscles covered in bite marks and hickeys as Taiga praises your body and claims you in the process. When it comes to you worshiping Taiga's body during regular old sex, you love to tease your fiery boyfriend with kisses to his thighs as you call his dick massive and tasty while jerking it off with the spit on it from previous activities with your mouth. When he's balls deep inside of you, you like to hold Taiga's body close to yours with such a tight hold, pushing his muscles against your face as you stuff your face into his pecs or his biceps or his pits, praises and moans falling from your lips and into Taiga's ears, egging your boyfriend on to fuck you even harder.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Humiliation. We all know that men who have big egos during regular life really wanna get beaten down during sex. It's not something that Taiga thinks about often, he's very much a big fan of receiving body worship from you, but a small part of him can't help but send blood rushing down to his dick at the idea of you spewing nasty words his way whilst riding him, or whilst playing with his dick and denying Taiga any pleasure at all. Your boyfriend has caught himself masturbating to the thought of kneeling infront of you completely naked, and you sitting on a chair infront of him as you call him a 'gross pervert' or a 'dirty slut' whilst touching his hard, twitching dick with only your feet - giving him a sloppy footjob to tease your boyfriend as all he can do it kneel before you and take what he's given. Taiga would so be into you spitting on his face as you make out with him, or you riding him like some cheap dildo and ignoring his needs, or you just calling him names as your have him kneel above you on your lap - you still fully clothed whilst you jerk off Taiga with an inhumane amount of lube, the man fully naked and whimpering down to you. But he'd never confess any of this to you! Not unless you walk in on him as he jerks off to porn of it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Pretty much just you existing and doing fuck all can get Taiga in the mood to dick you down. This man loves you so much and that love can translate to lust rather quickly! Taiga is down to fuck whenever and where ever with you, and he's got the balls to suggest it too. But specific things which gives Taiga the motivation to bed you may include: You talking to any guy other than Taiga for an extended period of time. This man is jealous, and if you give some other dick more attention than you give your perfect boyfriend, Taiga's gonna want to set you straight - and his way of doing so is via filthy, rough sex. Wearing specific types of clothing can also get Taiga going, such as when you wear any of Taiga's sweatshirts or hoodies, no matter if they're bigger on you or too small, the possessive undertone of the action riles your handsome boyfriend up so damn well! And being nice in general can really turn Taiga on; again, love turns to lust real quick with this man, and he's barely ever had people be nice towards him so if you act domestic with him by cooking him a meal or if you perform acts of basic human decency (like asking if you can make his day better?!) it gets Taiga hard real quick.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Taiga's a little bit of both to be fair! It's more of a 51:49 split for fast and rough:Slow and sensual, because Taiga loves to show off his dominant side during sex - but there's no doubt that this man just wants to communicate his love towards you during sex as well, so Taiga can be very sensual and take things slow if the moment is right. Your boyfriend really likes to wine & dine you on the weekends, so after a couple of glasses of your wine of choice and an expensive meal, Taiga and you can get very romantical with it; we're talking slow and deep thrusts while making out and 'I love you's' being said every second. The usual fast and rough pace is where the two of you fuck like animals; with Taiga absolutely enamoured by the way you look, the sounds you're making, the way you're biting and holding onto him, just you yourself making Taiga want to keep pushing through any exhaustion to keep pounding into you. Your loving boyfriend doesn't just want to feel you tightly and warmly grip around his dick with your hole, but he also wants to ensure that you're feeling immense pleasure too - so he makes sure to thrust his hips so rough and so deep that you can feel his dick make its way to your belly.

Seto

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Online sex is Seto's biggest turn on, he just has such a thing for feeling as if you're giving him a private cam-show! Your gamer boyfriend loves e-sex with you so much that he's invested in the two of you having separate gaming rooms; just so you both can get a more realistic experience! The brunette loves to hop onto a video chat with you on discord and start dirty talking as you strip for him, and very quickly are sex toys busted out. The call will usually just consist of the two of you watching each other pleasure yourselves with sex toys as you moan and dirty talk to each other; Seto's personal fave being when you use the cockring he'd gifted you as well as a dildo, he loves to be in control of you even if you aren't in the same room, and how better to do that than control your orgasms! Another kink of Seto's is also exhibition, but not in the standard way. This man loves to fuck you whilst he's on call with friends when playing a game, or when he's in a game lobbies voice chat; it gets Seto going so well. Your geeky boyfriend just loves the fact that those on the other end of the line keep asking if he's all good from the grunts and brief moans he accidentally lets out, oh and he loves to threaten you with the idea of his friends finding out that Seto was currently fucking you in a means to shut you up; Seto never actually tries to get you to be quiet though, he just likes to watch you try and keep your moans in as he lazily thrusts up into you!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

As previously mentioned, when the two of you have online sex, toys are always brought out; Seto being partial to a fleshlight of his, and the man really liking when you use dildos of his size. But during regular sex, Seto is still a big fan of using toys! When it comes to using sex-toys on you, Seto fucking loves to use tiny bullet vibrators; this man will tape them to your nipples and keep them on a low vibe the entire time he's fucking you, oh and you will always have one tapes to your hard, throbbing dick on max speed whilst a cockring keeps you from cumming! Seto just loves to see the desperation on your face as he fucks you silly. By the time Seto has shot a couple of loads inside of you, his next favourite toy to use is a buttplug, a big one too! It doesn't hurt at all after all of Seto's loosening up of your hole, but damn does it press up against your walls so well, keeping your boyfriend's cum inside of you for a while; that is, until he wants to take it out in order to watch his spunk leak out of you. The toys that Seto likes used on himself are also pretty limitless, but he definitely has a fave - fleshlights. Whenever Seto takes on a more submissive role, his favourite thing you do is when you handcuff/tie him to a chair and torture the poor man with a fleshlight; using an ungodly amount of lube as you jerk off his dick with the tight toy, but you don't let your boyfriend until he's literally crying for it - it's just so hot, for the both of you!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

This man is so unfair in bed! If you two are fucking whilst he's in a game, Seto will either have you cockwarm him for soooo long, until you're literally trembling with need for him - or (!) your smug boyfriend will fuck you into a pillow and tell you that if his friends can hear you in the game, he'll stop fucking you; evil I tell ya! When you two are going more vanilla, Seto will still tease you like hell; we're talking stopping fucking you if you're about to cum, and using cockrings to make you a cockdrunk mess as you beg to be allowed to cum! But all of that doesn't mean that Seto doesn't like to be teased himself! We've already established that the man likes to sub from time to time, and the way that you don't let that motherfucker cum for hours on end is quite funny; oh and when you finally let Seto cum, you aren't letting him go until he can't speak due to overstimulation.

Aiden

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

It shouldn't come as a shocker that Aiden has a fat exhibitionism kink; the man struts about with only an apron covering his dick and his ass fully out! You and your freaky boyfriend have partaken in public sex quite a lot due to this preference of Aiden's, you have no qualms about this though; as the thrill of there being a chance of being caught at any second in such a moment really gets you going too. The two of you have had sex not only in the camp kitchen (having almost been caught my many campers and scoutmasters), but also at the beach, in the forest, and even behind cabins! Aiden just gets such a thrill out of it, he wants to show off his body, your relationship, and the adrenaline pairs so well with the dopamine from fucking you! Musk n sweat is also something that Aiden is quite partial to - your boyfriend is locked up in that steamy kitchen all day, of course he'll get very sticky and musky real quick! Aiden finds it so hot when you smell his body and lick his tan muscles after a day of work, it's kinda like a body worship kink, but a tad bit more possessive once it comes to Aiden feeling like he's marking you with his scent. This kink goes vice versa too - your sexy man loves to smell your natural musk after a day out in the sun, Aiden fucking lives to press his nose into your crotch during foreplay, so he can fill his nose with your scent.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Aiden's favourite body part of his is either his arms or his ass. The himbo is so proud of his bulging biceps and triceps that he can't help but show them off, he even gets turned on by the way that you eye up his tan, muscular arms - the peak of his armpit hair as he flexes his arms like a gymbro really doing it for ya! Aiden is also incredibly proud of his ass; muscular yet still soft and plush, his tan skin accentuating the curve of his cheeks, it's a damn good ass. And most people can tell that the man likes his ass, cause Aiden is always showing it off! No matter if he's in a speedo or an apron, your boyfriend's cheeks always make a debut somehow. When it comes to Aiden favourite body part of yours, the man can't hide the fact that your thighs are his biggest turn on. Aiden loves the way that your thighs shape your body, he loves biting on the plump flesh between breathes as he blows you, he loves marking them with hickeys, and fuck does Aiden love gripping your thighs or smacking them as he fucks you! Even when you two are just relaxing, your cute boyfriend's head is either laying on your thighs or squished between them (and when the he's giving you such earth-shattering head that your thighs tighten around his head, it turns the green-haired hunk on so fucking much). An honorable mention to Aiden's second most favourite body part of yours: your mouth. He just can't get enough of how your warm, tight mouth feels around his cock, he loves the way your tongue looks and feels running up his body, and Aiden treats your lips like a drug from the way he gets so addicted to them when kissing you - the man usually turning a small peck into a full blown make out!

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Come on, Aiden is all about risk! We know that fucking in public is such a turn on for the man, but that doesn't mean any and all other risk is off of the table. Aiden is usually down to try whatever with you, anything new which you throw his way, Aiden will usually agree to; that's how you two figured out you were both soooo into costumes n role play (and yes, his 'Halloween costume' did infact lead to a 'god-worshiper' roleplay). Choking is something that the two of you have played around with, and the way that Aiden's veiny, tan hands felt around your throat was enough to add that kink to your regular repertoire! If Aiden has to set a limit, his usual would be anything that involves hurting you too much; yes, he's into choking if you're into choking, but even if you ask Aiden to slap you around or hit you, he'd say no. The furthest Aiden goes in the realm of impact play is spanking you whilst fucking or biting.

Yoshinori

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Yoshinori's biggest kink is shit to do with feet; more specifically, his boots. Maybe it's a domination thing, or maybe Yoshi just likes a show, but this man's dick throbs so much when he gets to watch you try to pleasure yourself on his expensive, dirty, leather boots. Yoshinori doesn't even have to move, he gets enough sexual satisfaction from watching you, fully naked, rub your hard, twitching dick against his boot and whine as the friction barely gets you a buzz. That's not to say that Yoshi doesn't like to put effort in himself, this man gets so turned on when he plays with your dick with his boot-covered foot, the rough material making you mewl, your sounds and the view going straight to your boyfriend's stiff cock. Outside of 'boot-play' Yoshi's little kink for feet still runs wild; the muscular scoutmaster getting so riled up whenever you worship his feet, whenever you press your nose against his clothed feet and get drunk off of the scent attached to his steaming socks, whenever you slowly strip his big feet of his damp socks and lick at the sole of his foot and at his toes (Yoshi's veiny, big feet juxtaposing your smaller head cause they're just that big!). Oh and when you two are fucking? Best believe that your hunk of a man has gotten carried away before from the pleasure of fucking you and positioned himself so that his foot was pushing your head into the bed as he kept on fucking you - the feeling of being so dominated sending shivers up your spine. When it comes to his minor foot-fetish towards you, Yoshi has quite the affinity for pushing your feet on either side of his face as he fucks you missionary, your soft soles against his cheeks as he gives you a goofy, satisfied smile with his eyes closed.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Yoshinori will give and take whatever you are happy with; he's got a very open mind when it comes to oral! Your boyfriend is happy to blow you until the cows come home, he gets his pleasure not only physically, but pleasuring you also gets this man going. The dirty blonde likes to start with long, slimy laps at your hard dick, covering your shaft with his warm, thick spit, and then he will take you into his mouth fully and give you some mind blowing head. Surprisingly, this man can take any size dick in that throat of his, and he puts that to good use; Yoshi usually makes you cum at least once during foreplay, and that is usually with you cumming down his throat within minuets! When you're giving your boyfriend head, he's very patient with you; Yoshinori knows that his dick is big and that it can be a lot to take at once, but damn, when you get that veiny, thick dick into your mouth? This man is a moaning mess, his big hands on each side of your head as his thick, manly fingers weave through your hair whilst you slobber all over his dick. Yoshi loves your blowjobs so, so much, and if it weren't so straining on you, he'd have you blow him much more than you already do (which is usually once per day!) Eating you out is another type of oral that Yoshi is super into; he just fucking loves makin you feel good! And the sounds you make whilst his hands are parting your cheeks and his hot, thick, wet tongue is rubbing against your walls, they're divine. Yoshi's oral skills are not to be messed around with, this man will have you whining, moaning and panting just from his tongue, and it gets him going so much - Yoshi just loves to satisfy you!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Yoshinori is quite experienced; he'd dated a guy back in highschool, and during college he'd had sex with both Aiden and Goro at camp, so it's safe to say that the man knows what he's doing! The muscular man knows that he's quite intimidating due to his size (both body-wise and dick-wise), so when you both got together, he ensured to take his time and take it slow with you so that you don't feel rushed. He taught you and guided you if you were unsure or a little behind on certain positions or kinks; and it's safe to say that Yoshi got you up to speed real quick!

Naoto

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

One of your boyfriend's biggest little quirks is his thing for modeling. Naoto gets really turned on when he gets to model clothing for you, or when you're with him at a shoot in which he wears practically nothing; the hunk gets to show off his killer body and gets to watch your cute reactions to his suggestive poses, the man is winning at life! But when bringing modeling into the bedroom, Naoto likes to merge both worlds and to model whilst fucking you; and by that I mean, the man films it. Naoto gets egged on so, so much during sex with you when he grabs his phone from the nightstand and starts to record the two of you going at it. The muscular man gets so turned on from watching you through the phone as the camera shares its focus between his thick cock plowing into your tight hole, and your sweaty, exhausted body which looks heavenly as you lay on the bed and take your boyfriend's dick like a champ. Of course, Naoto has checked if you're okay with him filming your little escapades and you quickly agreed - not only does it add some more excitement and thrill to the moment, but the both of you then have a spankbank absolutely full of videos of you two. Videos of Naoto moaning your ear how good you feel, videos of the man flexing above you as he thrusts like a maniac, videos of your moans of his name, videos of Naoto's muscles and abs as he gives you a sexy little POV shot, and Naoto's personal favourites: videos of your fucked out body, begging for more as Naoto fucks you, cum oozing out of your soft cock. Those memories will stay with you both forever, and they can get quite cute and wholesome at times; like when Naoto catches the two of you taking a breather and kissing on camera, or brief I love you's or check-ins on how each other are feeling.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

When you proposed the idea of making a pretty penny by selling the aforementioned videos, Naoto definitely wasn't opposed - with the sole condition that the fact that you two are a loving couple being the forefront of your 'account'. Very quickly, the two of you garnered plenty of views and subscribers to your accounts, with most of your viewers being head-over-heels for the adorable, wholesome dynamic that you and Naoto have - and all of your viewers couldn't deny just how fucking hot the two of you were! Separately and together! Your chemistry with Naoto would subconsciously amp up when filming, the two of you would vocalise way more than before; because the camera can't catch the knowing looks that you two give to eachother, the looks which already say 'I love you' without it having to be said a hundred times. And you can't lie, the money which the two of you make is wild.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Other than the standard avoidance of actually hurting you during sex (and just not being a fan of scat), the main thing that Naoto just wouldn't do is anything surrounding his family/Natsumi (NOT IN AN INCEST WAY!). This goes from PDA to anything more risque, Naoto just gets really awkward around his family when it comes to this kind of stuff; he's had to share a room with Natsumi and has given the younger man shit for jerking off in the same room as him, so Naoto just feels weird kissing you infront of his brother. And whilst the two of you have of course visited Naoto's family home and stayed round, that man has never been so frigid than when sharing a bed with you at his parents house; he didn't want ANYTHING even remotely sexual to happen under his parents roof - which you can understand and allocate for, that's why you two fuck like rabbits before a trip to his parents!

Darius

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Size difference is Darius' main thing; he's just so into the fact that he's so huge to you, that he has the power to just lift you with ease, and that you're also so clearly into the fact that he's so much bigger than you, in all aspects. Ever since he was young, Darius had been tall, and after getting older n thinking of his physique, his massive muscles really added to the fact that he was fucking huge in comparison to almost anyone. Your taller boyfriend just loves the fact that you could literally hang from his dick as he fucks you and your feet would dangle rather than touch the ground. Darius is also super into the fact that he's so fucking built and strong that he can effortlessly hold you in his arms or manhandle you during bed; your poor body having been stretched into many different positions after many nights spent with the muscular man. Your dark-skinned boyfriend is also really into how his frame contrasts yours; how your body is smaller when laying on top of him, how your hands can barely grip his broad, defined shoulders, oh and how his dick is so much bigger than yours when he jerks his dick n yours together. Speaking of his dick, Darius gets such a high when he sees his dick make a fucking bulge in your abdomen when he fucks you, his big hands pressing against the spot to make your writhe in pleasure as you spew out moans; the fact that he's so big that he is visible inside of you just boosts his ego so much. His hands are another contributor towards your boyfriend's size kink - Darius is so into the fact that his hand completely covers your whenever he holds it. The muscular man loves how small your hands are against his when he intertwines your fingers as he fucks into you, and he's so into how much smaller your body looks in comparison to his hands when he holds you; his masculine, large hands making your waist look smaller, or your throat, or your dick, or your arms. And you have absolutely no complaints at how large Darius' hands are, his fingers work literal magic inside of you when he's prepping you for taking his huuuuge dick - his digits pressing against and curling into your prostate, the darker hunk milking your dick with a nonchalant smirk on his face as you moan like a whore infront of him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

In contrast to you, Darius isn't the most vocal lover. It's not that the man doesn't make any noise at all, it's more that he's just a little quiet - or rather he tires to limit himself, hold his noises in. Darius is the kinda guy to grunt n groan your name into your ear, quietly letting you know that he feels good as he focuses on fucking you right, rather than moaning like a pornstar and sloppily fucking you. Small curses in the form of mumbles escape his lips from time to time, usually when he's putting it inside of you for the first time that day; your walls incredibly tight due to the large intrusion. The man's groans also make their way into your mouth when the two of you make out when fucking, Darius' sounds vibrating nicely against your own as your tongues dance together - oh and praises are quite common once the nonchalant hunk loses his little 'idgaf' attitude, his favourite's consisting of "Yeahhh good fuckin boy" and "So good... so pretty". The tables turn once Darius is close to cumming, his efforts to keep quiet getting thrown out the window due to the oncoming waves of pleasure - the red-head's jaw going slack as his hands' grip tightens on your hips, his biceps flexing as his hips thrust into you crazily, vulgar sounds and moans spewing out of his mouth like a tap left running.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It's no secret that Darius is fucking PACKING; we're talkin 11inches long and 6inches thick (cannon btw)! The man also uses his dick skillfully; if he weren't as well endowed as he his, your boyfriend would still be able to rock your world every day n night. His dick is the same, dark colour as his skin, with his tip being slightly reddish - the whole shaft has small veins adorning it and his foreskin covers his whole head, the perfectly tight skin protecting Darius' thick tip, his dickhead resembling a mushroom when he's hard; his glands throbbing and ready to be inside of you. The giant's balls also really add to the appeal of his dick; your boyfriend's saggy, big balls hang beneath his dick like a pair of golfballs, and the sparse pubes which cover his nuts decorate Darius' balls nicely. When it comes to fitting his massive cock inside of you, Darius ensures to take his time with you; the first time you two did anything together resulted in many tears due to Darius' desperation to feel you, and your ability to walk was very much impaired for the next day. After a long time of practice with you, Darius now knows your body like the back of his hand, and ergo he knows how to work your body to take his dick; the man will finger you for ages and make sure to ease in slowly, he knows exactly how deep he gets when he sees the bulge in your belly, and Darius will only push your head when you're sucking him off if you give him the go ahead.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mating press. Need I say more? Yes I do. Your boyfriend's size kink is reflected in all aspects of his life, mainly in small, subconscious manners, but during sex, he very consciously chooses positions which show off the difference in size between the two of you. The fact that Darius can bend your body over into such a meek position as he drills his dick into you ruthlessly really turns him on; it's such a display of power, and it shows off how fucking massive your muscular, dark-skinned boyfriend is in comparison to you, due to the fact that you're almost bent literally in half. The position also really turns you on as well! The way that Darius' rough hands feel on the back of your thighs as he pushes your knees to your chest, the way that the man's handsome, sharp face dangles above you as he fucks you with a sexy smirk on his face, and the way that his dick reaches so deep inside of you and grazes you prostate every millisecond, it's all just too good!

Lloyd

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

CW: piss!!!!

Musk n sweat are definitely some of Lloyd's kinks; the man really gets the hots for when you get high off of his natural, manly scent and worship his body, it makes him feel domianant. He loves it when you sniff his hairy, damp pits after a workout or when you lick his muscles clean of sweat - the man liking the way that your face looks as your tongue rolls over his abs or biceps - and Lloyd gets so fucking turned on when you deepthroat him and all you can inhale is the smell of his musky, thick pubes. Oh and this short-king most certainly enjoys worshiping your body, your natural scent is ingrained into his brain! Lloyd fucking loves to smell you, he finds some weird comfort in the smell that fills the room as the two of you fuck like animals, and he sure as hell gets hard when he sees you after you've gone for a run; your tank top absolutely drenched and your underwear n socks sticking to you uncomfortably. Your boyfriend also most definitely jerks off to the smell of your clothing or your underwear, he loves to fist at his cock whilst the only thing he can smell is his perfect boyfriend! But one Lloyd's biggest kinks ever has to watersports - controversial I know! There's just something about dirtying you, claiming you with his piss that really turns your boyfriend on; the perverted man is soooo into you letting him cover you in his piss, in his scent as you jerk off below him; it makes him feel dominant, it makes him feel possessive, it makes Lloyd want to fuck you so damn bad! And the man very much loves it when you participate too; you don't have anything against Lloyd's thing for watersports, but you rarely piss too. This nasty man fucking loves it when you've been fucking for so long, and you've came so many times that all of your boyfriend's rough thrusts into your prostate force you to piss yourself as he fucks you; it happened on accident once, and Lloyd has never been so turned on (BJ Alex ref lol).

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Surprisingly, Lloyd's libido isn't insanely high! Sure, the man will want to have sex with you at least once a week, but he's not desperate to fuck you every second of every day. The two of you average around three times a week, but Lloyd will almost always ask for a second round; to which you always oblige. If Lloyd is particularly stressed due to work, or if he had a shit day, sex is almost guaranteed; you help the man relax, can ya blame him? And also, if you look especially attractive that day, Lloyd is firstly eating you out like a starved man, and then fucking his dick in between them tight walls.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Lloyd has no opinion on quickies. He's not against them at all, if you're horny but have limited time, Lloyd is happy to suck you off real quick and vice versa! However, the short man can't deny that if you are going to do anything, he prefers to take his time with it; Lloyd just really likes to take things slow and enjoy the time he has with you! This man will slowly trail down your body with kisses and mark you and smell you before even whipping your dick out to give you a bj normally, during a quickie he just sucks you off - your boyfriend likes to cherish you, not rush you!

PHEW! That was so god damn long wtaf, I didn't expect it to take this long to write but I'm so happy with the way this turned out! Hope you guys enjoyed too!

I'd also like to thank you all for 2000 followers! I have always and will always primarily write for myself (to provide what I can't find), but it means a lot that so many people enjoy my writing as well! Thank you so, so much for all of the engagement, the male reader community on tumblr is so great - love you all!

[synthetickitsune]

Hi!! I love your work sm and I was wondering if u could write a minghao drabble with the prompt “you don’t count- I love u” thank u 🤍🤍

The8 (SVT) | "You don't count - I love you" fluff | 0.8k | gn!reader A/N: thank you for requesting! also inspired by @hanniedream's froggy ring post and bibi being a menace feeding into all of my delusions

“Absolutely not.”

You pout at him, whine his name, whisper into his ear how cute it would be to have a matching jewelry - a silly piece, the exact opposite of the classy necklaces and rings and bracelets you already had plenty of. But nothing gets Minghao to change his mind, and so the little froggy faces can only watch as you leave the store without them.

You sulk about it only a little. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. Your relationship matters, and it’s loving and wonderful, and Minghao is the best partner you could wish for. What would be the point in wearing a matching ring if you knew he hated it? He always makes sure you don’t lack anything you want or need, silly or serious. You let it go and truth be told, the entire thing slips your mind.

Until today.

Until today’s afternoon, to be exact, today’s very ordinary afternoon when your boyfriend suddenly told you to close your eyes before putting a little box in your palms.

“Open it,” he smiles at you as he sits down next to you.

You feel a lump in your throat. There are two rings staring at you. Matching rings. One with a little black frog, its limbs spread as if it was swimming, and the other with little lily pads and a white blossom. Minghao must’ve had them made, you don’t think he could find rings like this in a shop somewhere. 

“Do you like them?” he asks with a small smile. His hand slowly rubs circles on the small of your back. You look at him in disbelief.

“Why Hao?” you take a shaky breath. He frowns, sitting closer to you and putting his other hand over your knee. 

“What do you mean why?” his brows are knitted together, “Do you not like them?”

“No, I do - I love them,” you sigh, “But you hate things like this.”

You look at them again. The sizes make it pretty clear which ring is his and which is yours. He’ll look even more like he came out of a fairytale with the tiny blossom adoring his finger. You truly love them. You love the cute little frog. And you appreciate the gesture, but…

“I wouldn’t get them if I hated the idea - or if I didn’t like these rings themselves,” he assures you patiently.

“But you hated the silly frog rings I showed you,” you argue back, making Minghao smile and pinch your cheek.

“And I didn’t get those, did I?” he watches you laugh and loosens up a little himself.

“These are still silly,” you shake your head, “More… tasteful and elegant, but silly.”

“I’m good at compromising with you,” he grins. His thumb strokes your knee absentmindedly. It’s good to see you relax again, good to see the tender look in your eyes as you study the rings.

He looks at the box resting in your hands and carefully takes it from you. He slides the frog adorned ring on your finger before handing the now half-empty box back to you. Suddenly he feels shy when you take his hand in yours. You stroke your thumb over the ring once it sits on his finger, tapping the little flower. 

“You know you can tell me if you don’t like them or if I hurt you before and you no longer want silly matching rings. I won’t be upset,” not at you anyway - but he doesn’t say that.

“I’m really happy, Hao,” you lean in for a kiss that he’s more than happy to give you, “I just don’t want you to do anything you don’t like.”

“I’m not,” he threatens the doubts in your mind with a slight pout on his lips.

“You always shut everyone down with things like this though,” you don’t give up, stubborn as he is.

“Well,” he smirks mischievously and leans closer again to steal another kiss, “You don’t count - I love you.”

“That’s so corny,” you scrunch up your nose, pushing at Minghao’s chest without any force. It’s only natural that with every push comes a pull, so you don’t struggle when he pulls you into his side.

“But I won’t wear mine all the time, just so we’re clear,” he says softly yet firmly enough to let you know it’s not up for debate. Still he looks at the ring with a smile.

“I guessed you don’t have that many fits to match it,” you tease, “But I’ll wear mine all the time just so you know.”

“I’ll wear it when I’m not running around schedules. And when I’m with you. We shouldn’t leave the frog without its home for too long, hm?” he laces your fingers together. You gasp when you see it - like this it indeed looks like the frog is swimming towards the lily pads. You can’t help but laugh and snuggle closer to him.

You guess it is a little like that - Mingao is your home.

And you’re Minghao’s whole life, giving his existence a purpose. Even if that might be too much for a little frog to convey.