#reply! send something into my inbox! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyunjinsmuze · 23 days ago

Text

A/N it’s not letting me reply to my requests but this is a request!!! so if you have any send them to my inbox 💞

You Can Join

warnings: cock warming, oral (fem receiving) a little m x m, use of ‘good girl’

contains: ⛔️smut, threesome, a little fluff

summary: you were only supposed to be seeing your childhood bestfriend and now your involved in a secret you can’t forget

pairing: leeknow x han jisung x reader

words: 3.8k

You used to think summers lasted forever. Long days, scraped knees, and the sound of Changbin’s laugh ringing through the sticky heat like a bell. Back then, he wasn’t a famous rapper with millions of fans chanting his name. He was just Changbin from two streets over, the loud, scrappy kid who could never win at Mario Kart but insisted on rematches until the sun went down.

You didn’t grow up inseparable. It wasn’t like the dramas made it out to be. There were years when you barely talked, middle school drama, new friends, life. But the bond never really broke. You always came back to each other in the end, like bookmarks in a story neither of you had finished reading.

High school was when things started to shift. He got serious about music. You got serious about... well, trying to survive exams and not lose your mind. You cheered him on from the sidelines, sent him stupid memes at 3 a.m., sometimes didn’t talk for weeks but always picked back up like no time had passed.

Then came his debut.

You were proud — like, beyond proud. But it also meant distance. Not emotional, not really. Just time zones, tour schedules, and a version of him you could only see through screens and stage lights. Still, when he did reach out, it was always genuine.

Which brings you to now.

The friendship isn’t deep in the way some childhood friendships are, but it’s solid. It’s honest. He’s one of the few people who’s seen you ugly cry after failing a test and laugh until you snorted cola out your nose. That counts for something.

And the rest of Stray Kids? You’ve met them. Not in a fangirl way, you made that clear from day one. You weren’t there to drool over their visuals. They were Changbin’s people, and slowly, over a handful of get-togethers, they started to become yours, too.

Lee Know was cool, in that slightly intimidating “I’ll-read-you-in-two-seconds” kind of way. He didn’t talk much to you at first, but when he did, it was sharp, not unkind, just observant.

Jisung? He was chaos personified. Hyper, a little awkward, full of jokes. You liked him. He made you feel like you belonged even when you were just sitting quietly on the edge of a group.

You’d hung out with them a few times, movie nights, random meals when Changbin dragged you along, that one beach trip where you fell asleep with sand in your hair and woke up to Jisung drawing something obscene near your ankle with sunscreen.

Still, you were careful. You never overstayed. You knew their world was hectic, private. You never wanted to be that person , the childhood friend trying to milk clout or cling to old memories.

But when Changbin messaged out of the blue, “Hey, I miss your dumb face. Come hang out this weekend?” you said yes without thinking.

Because some bonds don’t need daily maintenance. They just exist. And sometimes, all it takes is a text to remind you that yeah, he still thinks of you as one of his people.

And you? Well. You missed being around people who knew you before.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It’s quiet when you arrive — too quiet, considering the chaos that usually defines anything involving Stray Kids. You press the buzzer and wait, your reflection staring back at you in the gloss of the dorm’s front entrance glass. The door clicks open and you step inside, greeted by the soft hum of electronics and the faint smell of ramen and cleaning supplies, someone must’ve just cleaned.

You slip your shoes off and glance around. No one's in the hallway. No laughter. No shouting. You frown a little but shrug it off. Changbin did say they might be out. Still, it’s kind of eerie being in their dorm alone, even though it’s not your first time.

Text from Changbin [4:38 PM]:

"Running late — got caught in traffic. Be there in 45ish. You can chill, everyone else is probably out too 🫠 Don’t eat all the snacks."

You snort. Typical.

You wander in further, your steps light on the polished floor. The living room is the same as you remember, slightly messy, with throw blankets half-folded and a weirdly large collection of remotes that no one ever knows how to use. There’s a hoodie draped over the arm of the couch. You recognize it, it’s Jisung’s. You pick it up, giving it a small shake before tossing it neatly onto the back of the chair.

There’s something a little too domestic about it all.

You flop down on the couch and stare up at the ceiling, letting the silence fill your ears. It’s weird. Not uncomfortable exactly, but unfamiliar. Like you’re sitting inside someone else’s life. You scroll your phone for a bit, switch to some random playlist, and then let your eyes close.

For a moment, you think about Changbin again. It’s always a little bittersweet, seeing him now. You’re proud of him, always, but it’s hard not to notice how different his world is from yours. You’re still you — still figuring things out, still living in the spaces between job applications and late-night cravings. Meanwhile, he’s out here living the kind of life people only dream of.

And yet... he still invites you back.

Maybe that means something.

You sit up, stretching your arms over your head. “Okay,” you mumble to no one. “What now?”

Your eyes wander toward the hallway. A faint sound catches your ear, not music, not talking exactly, but something. A soft thud. Maybe a laugh? You tilt your head. Could be someone’s home after all. You hesitate. You’re not the type to snoop, but boredom’s a dangerous thing.

And maybe… maybe you’re curious.

You make your way down the hall quietly, your bare feet making barely a whisper against the floor. The noise comes from upstairs, the door to the second floor is slightly ajar. That’s when you hear it again.

Voices. Low. Male. A laugh — breathy, almost choked. Then something like…

A kiss?

Your stomach twists strangely, and for a second, you think maybe you misheard. You’re halfway up the stairs before your mind really catches up with your body. You're not trying to spy. You just—

Okay. You kind of are.

Curiosity gets the best of you.

You step carefully up onto the second floor, trying not to breathe too loudly. You follow the sound to one of the bedrooms. The door is cracked open, just enough. You peer through the gap.

And freeze.

There’s Lee Know, sitting back against the headboard. Jisung is half in his lap, straddling his thighs, his hands tangled in Lee Know’s shirt. Their mouths are moving together, slow, deep, like they’ve done this a hundred times before. It’s intimate in a way that feels like a secret and a confession all at once.

You suck in a quiet breath, stepping back. The door creaks just a little under your weight.

Jisung jolts first, wide eyes snapping toward the door. You can see the panic rise in his expression, the way his body goes tense and stiff like someone flipped a switch.

Lee Know’s gaze follows a second later, but his reaction is the complete opposite.

Calm. Composed. Maybe even amused.

“Shit,” Jisung breathes, scrambling a little, pulling at the edge of his shirt.

You’re already raising your hands. “I-I didn’t see anything. I swear. I just heard someone and thought— I’m sorry—”

Lee Know’s voice cuts in. Smooth. Unbothered.

“Don’t go.”

You blink.

He shifts slightly, and Jisung stares at him like he’s grown a second head. “Hyung—?”

“If you don’t tell anyone…” Lee Know’s gaze slides back to you. “You can join us.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “W-What?”

His head tilts, dark eyes sharp but unreadable. “I’ve seen how you look at us,” he says casually, like he’s stating the weather. “Especially Jisung.”

Jisung turns red, still trying to process the situation.

You stammer something, probably the beginning of a very weak excuse, but then Lee Know adds, “Come here.”

It’s not a question.

Something about his tone sends a small, electric thrill down your spine. It’s commanding. Teasing. Like he already knows what you’ll choose.

And then he looks to Jisung. “Tell her.”

Jisung licks his lips, eyes flickering nervously between you and Lee Know. “I… We’ve both— kind of— We’ve thought about you. A lot.”

There’s silence. Charged. Breathless.

Your heart is thudding way too fast.

You don’t say anything. Not yet. But you don’t move either.

You’re not leaving.

Not yet.

You should leave.

You should turn around, go downstairs, and pretend you never saw anything.

But you don’t.

You stand there, fingers clenched against your palms, heart racing so fast it drowns out the sound of your own thoughts. Jisung is still flushed, hands halfway tangled in the hem of his shirt, looking between you and Minho like he’s waiting for someone to wake him up.

Minho is steady. Always steady. His gaze stays locked on yours.

“Come here,” he says again, voice lower now, smooth like honey with a dangerous edge.

You step into the room.

Because you’re not pretending you didn’t hear him. You’re not pretending you haven’t thought about it, too — maybe late at night, alone, your thoughts wandering a little too far into dangerous territory. You’ve seen the way Jisung looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. You’ve caught Minho smirking, watching you with those unreadable eyes.

You just never thought they talked about it.

“You’re really not going to tell anyone?” Jisung asks, his voice soft, uncertain.

You shake your head. “I won’t.”

Minho smirks slightly, satisfied. He pats the edge of the bed. “Then sit.”

You do.

Close enough that your knees brush Jisung’s thigh.

He swallows hard.

Minho shifts beside him, draping one arm behind Jisung casually, fingers ghosting over his shoulder. “We’ve thought about you,” he says, the words slow, deliberate. “A lot.”

You exhale slowly, trying to calm your pulse. “Like… thought about…?”

Minho’s eyes flick down your body, then back up, sharp and warm. “Like how you’d sound,” he says, “if we took turns kissing you.”

Jisung lets out a quiet breath, staring at his lap. Minho’s hand moves to his neck, thumb stroking over his pulse.

“Thought about how you’d look,” he continues, “with your head thrown back, mouth open, begging for more.”

Your thighs press together instinctively. He notices. His smirk widens.

“You’ve got no idea how pretty we think you are,” Minho adds, leaning a little closer. “Or how much we talk about you when we’re alone. Isn’t that right, Ji?”

Jisung groans softly, hiding his face for a second. “Hyung…”

“Tell her.”

You glance between them, your skin prickling with heat.

Jisung shifts, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I—I think about you all the time,” he admits, his voice tight. “Like, fuck, it’s bad. The things I’ve imagined doing to you…”

You shiver.

He looks wrecked just saying it, pink-faced, pupils blown wide, lip caught between his teeth. “I’ve— I’ve jerked off thinking about you,” he blurts out, then immediately covers his face again. “Fuck.”

Minho laughs under his breath. “You’re so shy now, but you’re the one who whines when she texts you at night and you can’t touch yourself.”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

Jisung squeaks. “Hyung!”

“He gets so desperate,” Minho murmurs, leaning in toward your ear. His breath is hot against your skin. “He’ll send me voice notes begging for permission to touch himself. Just because you posted a photo looking too good.”

You don’t know where to look, everything is heat and tension and the sense that a line has already been crossed, and now there’s no going back.

“What about you?” Minho asks, eyes gleaming. “Have you thought about us?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Both of us?”

You glance at Jisung, then back at him. “Yeah. Both.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Minho leans forward and kisses you.

It’s not soft. Not testing. He kisses you like he’s claiming something, like he’s known you’d taste good and now he’s proving it. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, angling your face exactly the way he wants, tongue sliding against yours, hot and sure.

You whimper into his mouth before you even realize you’re doing it.

When he pulls back, Jisung is staring — eyes blown wide, chest heaving.

Minho tilts his head. “You want to kiss her too?”

Jisung nods, almost desperately.

You don’t even have to move — he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss that’s messier, needier, full of shaky breath and whispered sounds. His hands tremble as they cup your waist, thumbs sliding under your shirt just barely.

When you part, you’re breathless, your mouth kiss-swollen, your head spinning.

Minho’s hand slides down your back, warm and confident. “You want to join us, don’t you?”

You nod.

He smirks, pleased. “Good girl.”

Those two words set something off in you, a shudder deep in your gut. You gasp softly, and Minho clearly notices.

“Oh? You like being called that?”

You bite your lip.

Jisung’s hand moves to yours, fingers lacing together. “Can I touch you more?”

Minho hums. “Only if she says yes.”

You nod again. “Yes.”

Jisung shifts forward and places a kiss just below your jaw, sweet and a little clumsy. His hand slides up under your shirt, not rushing, just exploring — fingers brushing your ribs, then higher.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers. “So perfect.”

Minho watches you like a predator. “I want you to take your shirt off.”

You hesitate only a second before pulling it over your head.

Both boys groan at once.

“Fuck,” Jisung breathes, hands now on your waist. “You’re actually— you’re so hot, I don’t even know what to do—”

“Relax,” Minho says, voice low. “We’ll show her everything. She’ll beg for us by the time we’re done.”

He moves behind you, kissing down the curve of your shoulder, slow and sensual, while Jisung presses soft kisses to your stomach. Your skin is hypersensitive now, every brush of breath or fingertips makes you twitch.

“You still sure about this?” Minho murmurs near your ear.

You nod again, breath hitching. “Yes.”

“Say it,” he says, licking the shell of your ear. “Tell us you want us.”

“I want you,” you whisper. “Both of you.”

Minho smiles against your skin. “Good girl.”

He moves to unhook your bra, and the moment it falls, Jisung lets out a shaky groan.

Minho slides his hand over your chest, slow and possessive. “Next part,” he whispers, fingers grazing over one of your nipples, “we make you ours.”

Minho doesn’t give you time to overthink.

He nudges Jisung back with a quiet, firm “lie down,” and the younger boy obeys instantly, scooting back against the pillows with wide, glassy eyes.

Then Minho turns to you.

“Strip,” he says simply, voice cool, controlled.

You obey, slowly, nervously, but already burning up. You feel their eyes on you as you slide your pants down, then your underwear. By the time you’re bare, Jisung is chewing his lip and Minho is watching you like he already owns you.

“Fuck, she’s gorgeous,” Jisung whispers.

Minho doesn’t smile — not exactly. He’s too focused. But there’s satisfaction in the way he looks at you, like he’s seeing a fantasy finally come to life.

“C’mere,” he says, and you climb onto the bed.

He positions you right between them, Jisung beneath you, hard and panting, and Minho behind, still half-clothed but completely in control.

“You’re going to take us both tonight,” Minho murmurs in your ear. “You want that, baby?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Louder.”

“Yes.”

Minho hums his approval and kisses down your neck, his hands sliding around your waist to grope your chest again, firmer this time, possessive. “You’re already shaking,” he whispers. “And we haven’t even touched you properly.”

Jisung’s hands find your hips, pulling you down over him so you’re straddling his lap. His clothed cock presses against you, desperate and twitching. “C-Can I take mine off?”

But Minho presses his hand flat against your stomach. “Not yet.”

He glances down at Jisung, who’s panting, already bare, his cock twitching in his pants. “You want her mouth first, Ji?”

Jisung’s eyes are huge, pupils blown. “Y-Yes— wait, I mean—”

Minho smirks. “I meant your mouth on her, baby.”

Jisung’s brain visibly short-circuits.

“Oh—fuck, yes. Yes please.”

Minho grips the back of Jisung’s neck and nudges him downward with calm authority. “On your stomach. Face between her legs.”

You lie back, breath caught in your throat, and Jisung slides down the bed like he’s being summoned by gravity, kissing your thighs, trembling with anticipation.

Minho moves behind him, still fully dressed, and leans over to trail kisses down the curve of Jisung’s spine.

“She’s so wet for us already,” he murmurs, and Jisung groans in agreement as he drags his tongue through your folds, slow and reverent.

Your hips jerk.

“Oh my god—” you gasp, fisting the sheets.

Jisung moans against you, messy and needy — tongue swirling over your clit, then dipping inside you with growing urgency. He clutches your thighs, holding you open, face buried in your heat like he can’t get close enough.

Minho watches over his shoulder, one hand gripping Jisung’s hip, the other stroking down his back.

“Good boy,” he says, and leans in to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss between Jisung’s shoulder blades. “Just like that. She loves it, doesn’t she?”

You whimper a moaned “yes,” toes curling.

Jisung licks you faster, lips wrapping around your clit now, sucking gently — making obscene little sounds between desperate breaths. Minho kisses along his spine again, trailing down to the small of his back.

“Such a slut for her,” he murmurs, voice dark with heat. “Bet you’ve dreamed of this. Her thighs around your head. My hands on you. All of us like this.”

Jisung groans into you, the vibration making you gasp, your legs shaking.

“You’re gonna make her come, aren’t you?” Minho growls. “Make her gush all over that pretty mouth.”

You’re already close.

Your hips buck against Jisung’s tongue, and Minho strokes the inside of your thigh, watching your face intently.

“Let go, baby,” he whispers. “Come for us.”

You cry out, hips jerking, back arching, one hand tangling in Jisung’s hair as the orgasm crashes over you. He groans into it, licking you through every wave, hands gripping your thighs tight.

When you finally slump back, panting and trembling, Jisung pulls back, lips shiny, chin soaked.

He looks completely wrecked.

Minho leans down and kisses the back of his neck. “That’s my boy.”

Then he turns to you, eyes dark and hungry. “you wanna ride him now baby?” you nod eagerly

“Wanna let him fuck you while I play with you from behind?”

Your brain short-circuits for a second.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes—please.”

He pulls off jisungs pants kissing his tights as the boy underneath him squirms and whimpers.

Jisung lays flat on his back as minho moved me to straddle jisung.

He grabs a condom and tosses it to Jisung. “Be quick. Don’t get sloppy.”

Jisung fumbles a little but gets it on, and Minho pulls you back just slightly, slipping a hand between your legs.

“Oh, fuck—” you gasp, jerking as his fingers slide through your folds.

“So wet,” he mutters. “She’s dripping for you, Ji. You feel that?”

Jisung nods helplessly, eyes glued to where Minho’s fingers are working you open. “I—fuck, I wanna be inside—”

“Then do it.”

Minho helps guide you down — slowly, inch by inch, and both of you moan when he finally fills you. You’re tight, soaked, your walls fluttering around him as you sink fully onto his cock.

“Shit,” Jisung groans, grabbing your hips like he’ll lose control otherwise.

You brace your hands on his chest, panting.

Then Minho wraps one arm around you, pressing his chest to your back. “You don’t move unless I say so.”

You nod.

His free hand travels down, teasing your clit slowly while Jisung twitches inside you, already close from the buildup.

“Look how pretty you are,” Minho whispers. “Both of you. Fucking beautiful.”

You whimper, trying not to buck your hips. Jisung is moaning, every muscle in his body tense.

“Please,” Jisung gasps. “Please let her move—hyung, I can’t—”

Minho’s fingers pinch your clit lightly, making you jolt. “What do you say?”

“Please,” Jisung groans again. “She feels so good, I’ll go crazy if she doesn’t—fuck—please—”

Minho chuckles. “Alright. Move.”

You rock your hips, slowly at first, rolling them just right so that both of you moan again. Jisung bucks up to meet you, nearly sobbing your name under his breath.

Minho bites your shoulder. “That’s it, baby. Ride him. Make him lose it.”

You do, building rhythm, faster, needier, until you’re both falling apart. Jisung grips your ass, thrusting up to meet you, whimpering with every motion.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—” he warns, and Minho grabs your hips, slowing you down.

“Let go,” he says. “She can take it.”

Jisung moans your name as he finishes, trembling beneath you.

You’re still panting when Minho slides away from behind you.

“My turn,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head and shoving his pants down.

You stare.

He’s big.

And he knows it, too, the smug look he gives you as he rolls the condom on is enough to make your stomach flip.

He gently moves you off of Jisung and onto your back. “Open for me.”

You spread your legs and Minho moves between them, stroking himself once, twice, before pushing in, slow, deliberate, making you feel every inch.

You both groan.

“Fucking tight,” he mutters, gripping your thighs. “God, you feel like heaven.”

He starts slow, measured, deep strokes that make your toes curl. His hand slips under your leg, pushing your thigh up to get deeper.

“You’re doing so good,” he says. “Taking me so well. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please—faster—”

He obliges, snapping his hips harder, your whole body rocking with the force of it.

Jisung moves beside you, kissing your neck, your collarbone, whispering praise.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes. “So fucking good, so perfect—”

Minho grabs your jaw and turns your face to his. “Eyes on me.”

You moan louder when he starts pounding into you harder, the bed creaking, skin slapping against skin, sweat dripping down his chest. “You love this, don’t you?” he growls. “Being fucked dumb by both of us?”

“Y-Yes—”

He reaches down, fingers circling your clit again, fast and unforgiving. “Then come for me. Come while I fuck this perfect pussy.”

You break.

The orgasm rips through you, sudden and overwhelming, your vision goes white, your body trembling under the force of it.

“Good girl,” Minho groans, thrusting once, twice, then spilling into the condom with a low growl.

You barely register him pulling out, collapsing next to you on the bed.

There’s a long silence.

Just panting.

Sticky skin and tangled limbs.

Then Minho brushes a strand of hair from your face and leans in, kissing your cheek. “You okay?”

You nod weakly, breathless. “Yeah… more than okay.”

Jisung cuddles up against your other side, nuzzling your neck. “That was the best day of my life.”

You laugh, dazed.

Minho smirks. “Guess Changbin’s gonna be real confused when he gets home.”

You all burst into giggles, tangled and happy and sated.

@hwangjoanna @penguins-in-space @sammhisphere

comment if you wanna be added to the tag list

1K notes · View notes

tetsumie · 10 months ago

Note

heyy when you have the time to do so, can i request college!suna x reader angst to fluff where reader tries to spend time with suna but they get into an argument where he decides to spend time with his athlete friend group but then feels guilty and make up with reader through heart to heart conversation? 🫶🏻sorry if this is so long i have no idea how to make the prompt shorter but honestly i love all the fics you post so idc if you change it up a bit just thought i’d give an idea

𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

pairing: suna rintaro x gen!neutral reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: you confront him about the growing distance in your relationship, something he's been dismissing for a while, until he finally grasps the seriousness of the situation

cw: suna is a bit harsh; arguments but they make up <3

a/n: hihi anon! ty for requesting and i hope it's to your liking :D i'm still accepting requests for my 1k event so feel free to send more into my inbox!

"it's like i never see you anymore!"

suna and you have been in this back and forth argument for what felt like an eternity and it's draining the life out of you.

suna has been preoccupied with the upcoming inter-collegiate volleyball tournament. as a starter on the prestigious division 1 ejp raijin volleyball team, the arduous practices and pressure have been taking a heavier toll than expected on him.

as a result of this, suna has been incredibly distant in your relationship. he was always gone before you woke up in the morning and didn't return until after you fell asleep. every time you tried to plan a date or suggest something to do together, he somehow always cancels. it's always, "sorry i have to run some extra drills. maybe another day?"

it's exhausting putting this much effort into your relationship when it all seems in vain.

you've tried bringing this up to suna before, mentioning how you would like to spend more time together. but suna, being suna, always brushed it off. but there's only so much dismissal you can take.

you really miss your boyfriend.

but you're not sure he misses you the way you miss him.

"y/n you can't expect me to drop everything for you! like fuck, i have a life outside of you," he exclaims, snapping you back to the current argument at hand.

"i didn't say that, rin."

"that's what you're trying to say," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

you shake you head, lowering your voice. "i know volleyball always has and always will be a top priority for you but i just wish... well, it would be nice if you could put a bit of effort into our relationship."

"what if i don't even want to anymore..." he mumbles under his breath as he walks to the closet, grabbing a coat.

the rage in your heart and mind now simmer down to a feeling of dread and heartbreak. what?

as he turns around, he sends an icy glare at you. you've never seen this side of him and you refuse to let him see you crumble apart in front of him. you refuse to break down right now.

"you don't want to what, suna?" you look at him, tone icy cold. "go on. tell me."

the heated environment is making his mind all cloudy and he wants to end this conversation now.

"you know what i mean, y/n. i'm going out. don't call me."

the door opens and slams shut.

the moment the door closes, you're completely still. you're running on autopilot. you find yourself making a cup of tea and sitting at the dining table, looking at the empty, lifeless apartment sprawled in front of you.

subconsciously, the tears started to roll. i guess that's it then. i think i better start packing my things. i should be gone by the time he comes back home.

meanwhile, suna makes his way downtown to the bar where some of his volleyball friends had invited him out for a couple drinks. he opens the door to the bar and he can hear the familiar rowdiness of his friends.

"well, well, well, if it ain't the infamous sunarin from ejp," a familiar blonde comes running to him. "been too long since i've seen ya stupid ass."

"yeah yeah whatever asshole," suna slaps the back of atsumu and nods over at osamu who's sitting on the table. "it's good to see you both."

as suna and atsumu head to the table in the back with the rest of his friends, his mind can't help but linger back to the argument that he had with you. but he decides to shake his mind off it.

he's here to have fun with his friends right now. not be worried about you.

"you didn't bring y/n tonight?" komori, suna's teammate, asks. "i haven't seen them in a hot minute. what've they been up to?"

what have you been up to? he doesn’t know. when was the last time we both had an actual conversation? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t even know what's been going on in your life lately. fuck this is what y/n meant.

he forces a smile, masking the bitter thoughts playing in his mind. "they're good. just doing their classes and stuff."

"ah right, well bring them by sometime! it's been too long since i've seen them. they never fail to light up the room with their presence."

"yeah you're right."

he nods, taking small sips from the beer in front of him.

as the conversation and chaos ensue among his friends, his mind keeps drifting back to the memories of the argument he walked out on. his mind has cooled off and a sense of guilt starts to take over his body.

here he is having fun with his friends while you're at home all alone, waiting for him. you just wanted to spend time with him and here he was, finding comfort in other people other than you.

he tries to remember the last time you both had gone out together but he's drawing a complete blank. he can't even remember the last time he's kissed you or held you in his hands.

no wonder you've been feeling so lonely.

and in response, he just kept brushing you off until you blew up today. and to make matters worse, he walked out of the argument giving you no sense of reassurance or closure on the matter.

at the realization, suna shoots up out of his seat with flushed cheeks. the group turns to him.

"i gotta head out for the night. i gotta see my baby."

"get a fuckin' room sunarin," osamu shouts. the rest of the groups howls in agreement. "see ya."

he waves goodbye and starts trudging his way back to the shared apartment. he expects to find you asleep so he can crawl into bed with you and cuddle, never intending on letting you go.

so you can imagine the surprise when he opens the door and sees the bedroom light on and hears rustling noises. "baby?" he calls out. "y/n?"

he takes off his shoes and coat and walks to the bedroom. he starts to internally panic at the sight in front of him.

you have a couple of suitcases out filled with your clothes and belongings. at a glance, he can see that your side of the closet is almost empty. you've even taken down a couple of the decor pieces in the room that you bought but he was never particularly interested in. with your headphones in, you’re focused on packing, but what breaks him the most is seeing you wipe your eyes as you do so. why are you even packing? where are you going?

and then it hits him.

not only did he make it seem like he didn’t want to make this relationship work, but his actions have been driving you away. fuck, this was bad. he didn't mean any of it. he has to fix it or he's gonna lose the best thing in his life for good.

he goes over to you and taps your shorted and you yelp, startled by the 6'2" man, hovering above you.

"what the hell are you doing?" suna asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

you wipe your eyes. "i'm leaving."

"don't be ridiculous," he scoffs.

"ridiculous?" you laugh at the absurdity of his comment. "what's ridiculous is how you walk out of an argument not even wanting to work things out. what's ridiculous is how you just continue to put me aside like i’m some side piece."

he knows you’re hurting. and it’s all his fault.

he doesn’t know how to properly express everything he needs to say to you.

so in the heat of it all, he does what he thinks is the next best thing and kisses you.

you'd forgotten this feeling. his soft lips on yours and how they fit together just right. it's the softest kiss he's ever given to you and your heart swells at the gesture.

you pull away and you plop yourself on the floor to process what just happened.

right there and then, he looks at you. he really looks at you. he notices the way you have some baby hairs popping out and your cheeks feel warm from all that crying. he notices the way your eyes look slightly puffed out and the remnants of tears on your cheeks.

i'm the cause of this. this is all my fault.

"i’m sorry," he begins.

you sigh and look away mumbling to yourself. "you’ve said that before. it doesn’t change anything."

"and you’re right."

you look up at him, surprised by his admission. "w-what?"

"you’re absolutely right, y/n."

he crouches down to your level, resting his hand on your knee so he can look you in the eye.

"i shouldn't have made it seem i wasn't willing to put in the effort into making us work," he says, gesturing between you and him. "my actions and what i said to you a couple hours ago obviously made it seem that way and i'm an absolute dumbass for not picking up on it."

you’re silent. he searches your face, looking for any speck of emotion, but he still can’t read you. in the amount of time he's known you, you’ve always been the exception.

"i've been swamped with so much work lately and i know i need to do better. i spread myself so thin that i forgot to prioritize the things and the people that matter the most to me."

you're silent, unsure of what to say to him.

"i thought i was doing the best i could do until i realized i could be doing so much more for us and for you. i'm so sorry for not being here."

"i know rin," you whisper. finally, for the first time you look up from your lap to look at him. "it just felt like you didn't care about us anymore. you're the hardest worker i know but i just wish you were here sometimes."

"and i wouldn't be able to be that hard worker without your love and support, you know," his hand cups your cheek as he runs his thumb across the tear streaks on your face.

"i realize how absent i’ve been in our relationship lately and i can’t imagine how lonely you’ve been feeling. i want to make this relationship work with you. i know i suck at being sappy and shit but you really are my other half. no matter what it takes, i’ll make us work. i’ll fight for this relationship. i'll fight for us."

"oh, rin," you sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in close for a hug. the tears begin to flow from your eyes.

he feels his eyes glaze over. he breathes in your familiar scent and feels a warmth he’s missed.

even after everything, you still love him.

he starts with a gentle kiss on your cheek, then starts peppering your face with soft kisses.

you let out a watery chuckle, making his heart skip a beat. he hasn't heard your laugh in forever and he swears to himself to never be the reason for your tears again.

"let's go to bed now baby. i've gotta cuddle away all the pain i've caused you."

3K notes · View notes

meanbossart · 2 months ago

Text

Are you new here? This is for you!

I've gotten a HUGE influx of new followers since the comic, so, first of all, welcome and thank you so much for liking my art!

If you happen to be totally new here, this is a blog where I post stuff about my nameless durge, DU drow (Dark Urge + "drow"), and theories/thoughts about the game and characters in general, because of that I happen to have a frankly insane backlog of asks that I have managed to tag to a fairly thorough degree, if you'd like to peruse through them!

You can find them all to be easily accessible through my archive (link only works on browser), but here is an index of the major ones/ ones I consider to USUALLY contain the most interesting information:

#DU drow lore #DU drow and astarion #DU drow and shadowheart #Bhaalist DU drow #Orin the red #companion du drow #ask compilations

I also have individual tags for each character if you look up #cazador szarr, #gale dekarios, #astarion, #du drow, #enver gortash, etc. I do suggest doing that in my archive page for easier sorting, rather than on my blog's main page.

You can also look up #advice, #tutorial, and #resources for stuff I've said about the more technical side of creating and posting my art.

If you'd like to read some of my fictional writing outside of ask responses, I have posted a couple of short stories in the #writing tag, and I have an ongoing fic on Ao3 called "A Novel Experience about the aftermath of the game!

Also please take a quick look at my pinned post for links and a couple of frequently asked questions!

Lastly, as a heads up, I get a lot of asks! This is not to discourage anyone from sending more in (I have some that are MONTHS old that I still plan or drawing something about, or character questions that I have replied to after weeks of them sitting in my inbox) but rather just a disclaimer that I cannot reply to all of them, nor would it be a very practical use of my time to 😅 so please don't think anything of it if you don't get an immediate response!

Anyways, thank you once again for the crazy response to the comic and welcome aboard, I hope you like it here!

866 notes · View notes

lucidfairies · 9 days ago

Text

— prey

synopsis: 1 Corinthians 6:18 states that one must flee from sexual immortality, but it's hard to flee from something that is forever chasing you.

pairing: priest!sevika x semi-religious!reader

warnings: religion as part of the main plot, fun mix of Catholic branches, age gap, light angst at the end, bottom!reader, top!sevika, virgin!reader for religious reasons, perv!sevika, massive corruption kink, mean!sev, pet names (little lamb, lamb, pretty, baby), hand/arm kink, humiliation kink, praise kink, reader masturbation mentioned, pillow humping mentioned, cunnilingus, fingering, fucking in a church, degradation, sub headspace if you squint, spanking, pussy slaps, crying, eating it from the back + through panties

wc: 7.7k

a/n: please read the disclaimer that has already been published! all the thanks in the world to my girl @sevsgiirl ❤ they helped me so so much per usual and I'm their biggest fan.l

Oh forgive me if I love being bad for you.

Your mama always said that being good would get you to far, far places. She said that every man and every job and every opportunity admired a good woman. And so, you were. You were the perfect, thriving, glowing definition of good. Stunning grades, sports, church on Sunday. You talked to God like he was your best friend, and for a time, he was. She was right, too. People did admire you for your perfection. But it wasn’t long before the cracks started shining a bit brighter, and you realized that maybe this wasn’t the life for you.

“You be safe, okay?” Your mom rubbed her hands down your arms, pulling you in for a tight hug. “Oh, I don’t want to let you go!” She squeezed harder, holding you there like a lifeline. “Now listen, I already called some friends in town and of course, prayed over your new apartment. God is watching, he’s here with you-”

��Mom,” you interjected. “I know. I’m an adult, I’m ready for this. I’ll be just fine.” Her eyes welled with tears, pulling you back into a hug. Your dad walked over, wiping his hands on his pants and smiling. He was finished loading the car, which meant that you had a steady escape from your mother’s spiraling.

“Well, time to send you off, kiddo.” He opened his arms and you attached from your velcro mom, shifting your attention to your father. He didn’t squeeze you like it would keep you here, he held you and let you go, knowing that it was time. “Bye sweetheart, we love you.” You waved to the both of them as you got in the car, wasting no time before clicking your seatbelt in and driving off. This was it.

Your parents' relationship with religion wasn’t one that you saw very frequently. None of your other friends had parents that obsessed over your entire life, always dragging you back to God. Not even your friends from church. They used God to tell you what to say, how to dress, how to act. Everything was done in the eyes of God, and at times, it was crushing.

So, when your Mother texted you the name of a priest she knew in your new town, you swiped away the notification and let it sit in your inbox for weeks. You were convinced that, if you ignored it, you wouldn’t live a life that they controlled any longer. Even after you turned eighteen, went to the local college, made new friends. They still had a full hold on everything you did. Now, five hours away, you were free!

Your first day in town you wore a crop top - one that your mother took from you and hid in her closet years ago. She made you pray for days and ask God for forgiveness for something so sinful, so immodest. You felt terrible afterwards, and only wore things that covered everything but your wrists and ankles, absolutely convinced that you betrayed God with the shirt. But it didn’t, and it wasn’t, and when you wore it then, it fit you well, made you feel pretty.

God, did you feel so free.

Your mother checked in on your daily, but you only replied to a handful of them. When you told them that you had plans to move to the gayest part of the country, they all but freaked out, sure that you would come home transgender, or worse, gay. What on earth were they to do with a gay daughter? It wasn’t God’s commandment to be gay, and the thought of you as a gay had your mother’s mind spinning. You were sure you saw her life flash before her eyes when you told them.

You wouldn’t pretend that the town was out of your comfort zone. There were so many people compared to your small town, you couldn’t even understand how so many people lived in the same place. That being said, it felt, to you, like everyone was a model. There were so many faces that you had never seen before, so many identities and styles.

It wasn’t until the end of your first month that you ran into your first problem.

You found a coffee shop that you enjoyed, and began frequenting it. But, when they hired a new, tall, buff, female barista, you found yourself there more often than not. You were undeniably drawn to her, found yourself thinking of her when you shouldn’t be and striking up conversation with her like some kind of lovestruck fool.

Then, of course, the thoughts began creeping in. Terrible thoughts, about her voice and her arms and her fingers. All while you did terrible things to yourself - with God watching. You were screwed. The woman lived in your mind all the time, everywhere you went and everything you did. Every night before you went to bed, thoughts driven by lust guided you. You knew then that you would have to take your mother up on her priest offer.

The church was large, on the outskirts of the city. It had beautiful panels and stained glass windows that light poured through gorgeously. You followed the line of people, joining them in waiting to confess. Even if you had never been to this church or knew these people, they were kind to you. You had to tell someone, and if a priest that your mother heard was good had to be it, then she was it.

The booth was cramped when you stepped in and took your seat. You face forward, as one does, and placed your hands in your lap, waiting. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three months since my last confession,” you started, “I’ve never been to this church, and I’m new in town. I… I’ve been struggling with some lustful thoughts.. about women,” the words felt like dirt coming out of your mouth.

“Go on,” the priest spoke, and the voice was warm and thick and held you there like honey.

“Well, I haven’t exactly acted on them, but I have, um, touched myself thinking about… a woman.” The priest hummed and sat in silence for a moment, calculating. You were red with embarrassment, confessing something that went so against everything you had learned growing up.

“Was it one woman specifically, or have you had these tempting thoughts about several women?” The priest asked. You sat with yourself, pondering whether or not you had ever had those thoughts before. Well, maybe you had.

“There was a girl when I was younger. My thoughts weren’t driven by lust but I thought of what life would be like with her. This woman is so.. different. I’ve never done anything with anyone, I’ve never had such filthy thoughts about anyone before, especially not a woman.” You whispered the last word, as if it would change anything.

“Everyone struggles with temptation at some point in their lives. I myself have struggled with sexual temptation to the same sex. But, what’s important is that you didn’t act on these thoughts outside of your body. If you feel driven, you have this space to share your thoughts. If not, I can bless you and provide you with your penance.” You pondered, once again. This was a stranger. What if this priest wasn’t as good as your mother claimed?

“Well… I thought of her performing.. sexual acts on me. With her fingers and her mouth. Saying dirty, terrible things to me. I don’t know anything of lesbian sex, I don’t even know where these thoughts came from.” You felt like crawling into a ball and just sitting there with your thoughts.

“In God’s name, I grant you forgiveness for your sins,” you released a breath. “I order you to fast for the next week, read your Bible, and return next week. In Jesus’ name we pray and forgive, Amen.” You said Amen, letting the priests’ words sink into your skin. You would fast, intermittently as instructed, but you weren’t sure how abstaining from food would remove the desires that you weren’t even sure you wanted to be rid of.

“You have a very kind voice,” you said quietly. “Thank you kindly, Father.” You spoke, southern charm briefly snaking its way into your vocabulary. You left the booth, feeling as if every eye in the room was digging into you, even though the booth is soundproofed. Like they knew that you were full of it, that you didn’t want to get better. All you wanted was to uphold your perfect little image. God didn’t have a place in your life.

It wasn’t until the following week that you were sure God wouldn’t ever forgive you.

The week had been long, almost torturous. Going without food didn’t feel like a penance, it just felt like work. You didn’t feel any more connected to God than you did the previous week, and all you were getting out of it was fatigue and falling asleep at work. Your bible did nothing, praying did nothing. You felt like none of it was ever going to cure you.

When you arrived at the church one week after you first stood there, you had no idea what to say to the Reverend. Would you say that you didn’t want to give up your sin, that you didn’t care what God thought? That what you were instructed to do wasn’t working, and the orders were wrong?

The church was empty when you stepped in, and it was daunting. It made the room look larger, the ceilings look taller, the rows of pews doubling as you walked closer to the front. Nobody was there, and you were sure that you did something wrong. Maybe you got the date wrong, maybe this was a fever dream, or a test from God.

You looked around, taking in every aspect of the church. The stained glass windows bared their blooming colors down onto your skin, changing it to shades of purple and green and blue. The room was warm, welcoming even. But that didn’t change the fact that it didn’t feel right. None of this was right.

Someone cleared their throat and you whipped back around to the front, taking in the person before you. It was a woman, but not a woman that looked like any other you had seen before in your entire life. She had short hair, cropped at the ear, and the shadow cast across her face made her grey eyes gleam. She was one hell of a sight.

That was when you knew.

“May I help you?” She asked, and you immediately recognized the voice. This was the priest that you spoke to last week, when you recited every thought that was currently resurrecting in your brain.

“I’m here for confession, I think,” you said quietly, slightly embarrassed as it appeared the event was cancelled. “I may be in the wrong place, I just moved here. Are you the Reverend?” She smiled, setting aside what she was doing.

“Yes ma’am. I’m sorry you couldn’t join us on Sunday, I announced then that this week’s confession had to be cancelled. But, I’m not busy if you want to talk. I’m Sevika,” she leaned against a railing that divided the altar and the nave, offering a hand for you to shake. “Have you confessed before?”

Sevika knew the answer. She knew the moment she saw you, the way you spoke, the look in your eyes. You were the woman from last week, who told her about your sexual desire for women. She was sure, now that she saw your face, that she would never forget you. There was a breathtaking person behind the filthy confessions, and it made her mind wander to places God would frown upon.

“Yes, last week, I was told to come back this week. I found that what I was ordered to do hasn’t been working. I still feel the way I did last week.” You huffed. She gestured to a pew and you followed her, taking your seat beside her.

She was so close, too close. Her knee pressed against your own, and you could basically hear the sound of her breathing. She was warm beside you, and her entire person drew you in, causing a lack of disconnect for the disgusting thoughts in your head. There were so many things. Her hands were huge, and the material of her black shirt stretched thin around her bicep. You were dying to see what was under the shirt, and if it was as tempting as it appeared to be. And then, of course, you were smacked in the face with the reminder of the fact that she was your future Reverend.

“Since we’re alone, do you feel compelled to remind me of your confession?” You shifted nervously, confessing out of the booth making you feel as if God had a better watch on you. Maybe you weren’t ready for this; maybe you didn’t want to change.

“Well.. it was about lust, and, um, other women. I’ve been having some thoughts about what it would be like to, maybe, indulge in.. sexual acts.. with other women. I think a lot about hands and voices, and..” you trailed off as your eyes slowly painted their way from the tips of her fingers, across her arm, up her neck, and all the way back to her eyes.

Sevika was good at hiding whatever she was thinking. She was desperate to know every thought that you had, pick apart that pretty little head until she had you in a perfect, open position. But she didn’t. “Is that so?” She hummed. Your thighs rubbed together as a familiar feeling rose between them - except this time, it was brought upon by another person, and not your own thoughts. “I remember you, now. Tell me why you don’t think your penance is working.”

You forced your brain to come back into the moment. “I made my fast, as instructed, and I prayed. I read my Bible every night, cover to cover. But.. it still doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel fixed. I’m still having these thoughts even when I don’t want to have them. They just creep up on me and take my mind under control.”

“Healing doesn’t happen overnight, lamb,” she watched your pupils dilate, and an ever so slight change in the pace of your breath. “It takes time. Once you open your heart and mind to God, He will take His time healing you. He doesn’t make mistakes.” You looked up at her, realizing then that she was dramatically taller than you, even when sitting.

“Reverend,” your gaze fell once again, this time focusing on your hands in your lap. “What if.. what if I don’t want to get better? A part of me wants to walk out of this church and never return. What if I like these thoughts, and I like what I’ve come up with? What if I want it to happen to me?” You thought back to the barista, who hadn’t even wandered into your mind since you got here. It was like she meant nothing any more, now that you had such a woman in front of you.

“My previous statement still applies. Moving away from the temptation of sin and sin itself comes with time,” she turned to you, placing a hand on your knee. “Inherently, your thoughts are not sin. They only become sin when you act on them.”

“Does touching myself count as acting on them?” God, her mind was racing.

“God never says that pleasuring yourself is a sin, but your thoughts leading up to doing such are what makes it a sin. If your fantasies include other women and doing sexual things with them rather than, let's say doing it to aid period cramps, then it turns into falling into temptation.” You nodded, taking in her words. You knew the answer, but you still didn’t feel bad.

“Thank you, Sevika. Would you be willing to offer me further penance?” She smiled, letting out a quick chuckle.

“I’m going to order you a personal one, and a church related one,” you met her eyes, scanning the depths of her face. You never wanted to forget it. “Though I’m not sure how often you do it, I want you to restrict touching yourself to the best of your ability, and I want you to continue your fast. Now, in Jesus’ name we pray, Amen,” you repeated her Amen, “return next week, or join us for church. We have a Wednesday night session at eight this week, if you’d like to attend.”

“I just might.” Your eyes were practically glued to hers, unrelenting. You needed to learn her, know every crook and crevice in her face. Every color in her eyes, and every wrinkle that found its way onto her aging face. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, Reverend. Thank you.” You stood with her and pulled her into your arms without thinking. You reached as far up onto your tippy-toes as you could, and the poor woman still had to bend to reach you.

“Have a good night, little lamb.” Her hands slid off your waist as you pulled away, walking away and leaving the church with your head in a daze.

You found yourself trapped in her daze until you were back to your apartment. Everything about her beyond fascinated you. There was a small color shift in her eyes, a haze of blue and dark grey that mixed together to create the most perfect color, dressed with growing crows feet in the corners, that pulled when she smiled. Her nose was large and round and stapled her face in a beautiful way, almost touched by a large scar that found its way down her cheek and neck.

You wondered how far the scar went, underneath her clerical collar. If it touched her chest, or found its way to her stomach, all the places you were desperate to see. Desperate, that was the word for you. Desperate to know the shade of her lips, and the way they felt on yours. Desperate to know how she spoke out of uniform, the things she liked to do.

Wednesday service was going to be unbearable.

Sevika was in a position similar to yours, but she liked the idea that she had the upper hand. She liked how you looked at her, and the way your thighs rubbed together ever so gently at the names she called you. She knew you didn’t want to get better, and she knew you wouldn’t. Not when you sat in the church, squirming and eyeing her arm like a slut.

But it also meant that she had you. If she wanted you, wanted to break her oath and ruin her purity for you, she could. You would let her. There wasn’t an inch of your body that would put God before her if she asked. She knew you were thinking the same things about her fingers and her mouth as you were about whatever woman drove you to come in the first place.

She never considered herself a particularly observant person, but the way she noticed the shift in your eyes, from good to bad, and the way you listened to her, patiently, she may have to start using the title. You were practically pliable, ready to be morphed into what she wanted from you.

She would never forget the words touching yourself leaving your mouth. She could imagine it, truly. See your hand sliding over your stomach and over your panties, rubbing your clit like it was enough. Refusing to fuck yourself on your fingers, afraid of what God might think. And when it wasn’t enough, she could see you sitting pretty on one of your pillows humping yourself on it like a dog, chasing any feeling of pleasure that you could derive from it. She could envision you like she was watching you on video.

Sevika was absolutely dripping wet in her living room, where she let her thoughts run several minutes ago. This was the first time anything of this sort had happened to her in years - she never thought like this, and was never this driven to act on it. Guilt overrode any substantial plans of finding the vibrator stuffed away in her closet.

No matter what happened, you were both fucked.

You let weeks pass. You had to. There was no way you could step into a house of God with her in it and pretend that you didn’t crave her from the depths of your skin. There was no use pretending anymore, not when thoughts of her crept into your mind at all times of the day, everyday, for the last two weeks. You were waiting for them to subside before going to the church, even thought about going to a different church to try and improve your thoughts.

Unfortunately, it didn’t help. The longer you were away from her, the stronger the thoughts grew. You had to go back. Somewhere, deep inside, you thought that if you went to the church, watched her preach about God, what she knew best, you would be relieved of the things holding you back.

And so, you got home from work, dressed nice, and prepared to go to church. The only thing your mother gifted you before you left was a rosary - it was beaded in red, with the equipment matching in gold. You wore it around your neck, the first time you had bothered taking it out of the box since she gave it to you, like it would save you. It wasn’t going to.

None of your thoughts about going to the church revolved around anything inappropriate. Sevika knew that, she knew it when you walked in quietly, five minutes before her sermon began. She knew when you sat in the front, and closed your eyes, letting her words melt into you while the rosary clung tight to your palm burned your skin. You were here for a reason that wasn’t known to your sweet little brain yet.

You were such a pretty thing, sitting there proper in a skirt that dusted your ankles and a headband that matched. Her eyes found you in the crowd every time she lifted her gaze from the holy book before her to the crowd. It wasn’t busy late on a Wednesday night, and she knew that’s why you were here. There were less suspecting eyes, less people to grow weary of an unfamiliar face amongst them.

Most importantly, there were less people that knew.

It wasn’t obvious to everyone, but someone in the crowd, you were sure, knew that you were thinking a grand scheme of unholy things about the reverend. You couldn’t stand it, these thoughts. You tried to convince yourself that she wasn’t looking at you when she preached, but the way her dark eyes drilled into your own when she read a verse forced your thoughts otherwise. When the service was over, you were going to bult. You couldn’t stay, couldn’t ever come back.

This was the end of your time as a Catholic. You had disappointed God far too much.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for the end of our service tonight, I want to talk about something that many of us in the crowd know and love,” Sevika smirked, “all of our married folk in the room, as I send you off tonight, I want all of y’all to remember that God calls us to enjoy and place importance in our relationships with sex,” there were hoots and hollers throughout the hall. “So I ask, in the name of God, have some fun between this service and our Sunday service. Let’s end with a prayer.”

Sevika began her prayer, but your mind was focused on her encouragement of sex. It made you wonder if Sevika was married, and if everything you had created in your head was just that - a creation. Fake. If you imagined the way she looked at you and the names she called you. It wasn’t real.

You had almost made your escape from the church without having to speak to her before you were cornered. Of course. Every priest did this. They bid farewell to those leaving the church at the end of the service, shaking hands and kissing babies, encouraging the group to return the following Sunday.

And like every other, she did it to you. “Thought I’d never see you again, peach.” She chuckled. Like a puppy, you were drawn to her as the stranglers made their way out. “Walk with me,” you did as told, following by her side as you walked back up the aisle towards the altar. “Did you enjoy the service?” You contemplated giving a half-assed answer, anything that could get you out of this church as quickly as possible.

“Yes, it was nice to sit in on a service again. It’s been a while. Speaking of which-” you tried, once again, to get away, the outcome reflecting similarly to the first time.

“Will you be joining us on Sunday?” Sevika was doing everything in her power to get you to stay. The more she talked to you, the more she asked, she knew you would. Pliant. It was a phenomenal word for you. So… flexible. Willing, even. With the way your eyes widened with every word she said, lips parting and cheeks reddening like she was the most fascinating thing on earth… it was easy. You were easy.

“I’m not sure if I’ll be able.” It felt like lying. The short answer was no, and the long answer was no, you couldn’t ever step foot into this church again without the fear of God coming down and smiting you himself. Telling her that you may have plans wasn’t a lie, simply an aversion to the harsh truth.

“Well if you can, we’d love to have you. You make a great audience member.” You stopped dead in your tracks, still. Hopefully she didn’t notice. The comment was clearly an innuendo, hinting at the way your thighs pushed together under your skirt and the way your hands bunched up the material every time you thought she looked your way.

“That’s kind of you to say,” your fingertips smoothed over the rosary around your neck, drawing her eyes to the spot on accident. She was good at watching you, and you were aware. She took a step closer to you, entering your personal space. She wasn’t far - close enough that you could smell the cologne she had on. It was a musky mix of wood and something deep, and you let your eyes flutter closed.

“Is this new?” She asked, large fingers finding the piece like a feather. You were burning now, burning like you were floating in front of the sun itself. She could inevitably feel the temperature of your skin and the rapid pace of your heart, and feel it she did.

“No,” you whispered back, “my mother gifted it to me before I left.” Your eyes were squeezed shut tighter than they had been for the extent of your life.

“Do you pray to it every night? You feel saved yet, pretty?” She pushed further, seeing how much you would take before you snapped out of it and left, never to be seen by her again. You were pretty. The prettiest girl she’d ever seen, will ever see. It was only her duty to tell you that.

“No.” You opened your eyes, meeting hers and immediately realizing her closeness. “In fact, I think I may try a new church, one that feels more right.” You felt weak, trying to pretend to be strong. But her proximity to you, her smell, her hand still rubbing over the cross, it was all too much to be strong.

“Are you now?” Sevika was amused by this, especially knowing that nothing would tear you away from the things you felt about her. “Why’s that, lamb? Something I should know about in my church that’s bothering you?” You sighed, frustrated and turned on more than you’d like to admit.

“I feel as if your penances aren’t working, nothing has changed. And you..” She cut off the end of your sentence, abruptly.

“Me?” She asked in a playful tone, like she knew this was working. Like she knew that heat was pooling in your belly and your panties were wet.

“You’re distracting me. From being saved.” She smirked, stepping even further into your space. You backed up, not going far before your back hit the railing that divided the ambo and the crossing. You were stuck between her and the railing, but there was nothing to object. Not now. Her knuckles ran down your bare chest until they reached the start of your top, where she switched to her fingers.

Leaning in, with her fingertips running down your side, she spoke. “No, little lamb,” she leaned in, mouth finding the shell of your ear. “You just don’t want to be.” Her hand fastened around your hip, pushing it into the railing. “In fact, with all of these thoughts of yours, I don’t even know if God can save you.”

“I don’t.. I don’t know what you want me to say to that.” You pouted. You weren’t exactly scared, at the moment, but something else was creeping up inside of you. She had the means and opportunity to do absolutely whatever she wanted to you, right now. And the worst, most gut wrenching part of all of it, is that you’d say yes.

“Give in.” The moment your eyes met hers, her lips were slamming into your own.

Kissing her was like kissing an angel. You had kissed plenty of boys in your life, but where their spit and shitty tongue turned you off, Sevika’s bruising force and toe-curling kisses turned you on. She pressed her lips into you with fervor, chasing every feeling she could get out of you, and you didn’t resist.

It was terrible, truly, how you let her do it. Let her suck your tongue into her mouth and wrap her large hand around your throat. Awful. Ungodly. It would be best if you pushed her away and ran out of the church, chasing your dignity that seemingly flew out the stained-glass window. But it was so fucking good.

She was so much bigger than you, also. There was no way that you could escape from her now, not like this. Not when your mind was spinning and your legs were about to let out, all from a kiss. All from her hands on your hips and her warm body pressed to yours. And when she pulled away, looking at you darkly like her next meal, you couldn’t help but let out a pathetic noise, and she smirked.

“This is wrong,” you insisted, but your grip on the front of her gown didn’t cease. “This isn’t good, this isn’t what God wants.” You were battling with the fact. This wasn’t anything close to what God wanted. God called for pleasure in marriage, marriage between one man and one woman. But here you were.

“Leave, lamb. Walk away. Go be good,” she took a step back, your grip on her shirt releasing, teasing smirk still painted on her stunning features. This was your chance, your opportunity to move back home and keep being good, keep being that sweet little version of you that seemed to be gone forever. But you didn’t move, you couldn’t move. “That’s what I thought. You want this, don’t you, sweet thing?” You were practically shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Hesitantly, you nodded. It was slow, and only once. Sevika was back on you in an instant, trapping you against the railing once again while she dragged your legs up and around her hips. She kissed your neck, doing far more than any stupid boy had in the past. It wasn’t long before any thoughts of God began to slip from your brain, too busy focusing on the way her warm mouth sucked the skin on your neck, adding her teeth and quickly flicking her tongue over the spot to ease any pain.

You couldn’t blame anyone for enjoying this. Not when she did the things that she did to you. “You’re always so good, baby,” she kissed the spot right below your ear. “Don’t you think you deserve something for being so good all the time?” Once again, you nodded slowly. “Answer me, lamb. You’ll learn quickly that doing what I say will get you what you want.”

“Yes,” your voice shook with your answer, eyes drifting to the side. It was an embarrassing experience, but it was only deserved. She let your legs down, backing away slightly with a chuckle.

“Yes what, baby? What do you deserve?” A flush of red warmed your cheeks. It was hard to say something you didn’t agree with; you hadn’t been good, you didn’t deserve anything because you weren’t good. If you acted right, you still didn’t deserve anything. God didn’t give out favors for simply doing what you were called to do.

Sevika’s words snuck their way into your mind quickly. You were so far gone already, what’s a little bit more? She had already made you feel this good and she had hardly touched you. What was just a little more? Maybe she was right, maybe God hated you.

“Yes, I deserve something for being good,” you cringed at your own words, flinching away from her gaze. She pulled your forward off of the railing, lifting you over her shoulder like it was nothing. Like you were a piece of paper in comparison to her strength.

You found purchase atop the sermon table, the fat of your thighs morphing against the divots in the wood, through your skirt. Every church had a table in the altar, one where the reverend could sit things out or create a sort of symbolism of God, but right now, she was pushing everything off to sit you onto it, reattaching her lips to your neck rapidly.

You were writhing under her by the time her lips found your collarbone, leaving a trail of dark marks. “Let’s take this off, pretty thing. Can you do that for me?” She ran her pointer and middle finger under the elastic of your skirt as she whispered in your ear, planting a kiss under it.

You didn’t hesitate in lifting your hips and slipping it down, leaving you in your top and panties. It was the epitome of a compromising position, looking up at her half naked with your hair static and your makeup messed up. “You’re so pretty, aren’t you?” You nodded, but that was hardly enough for her, as you should've anticipated. She grabbed your jaw, pressing her fingers into your cheeks to hollow them out. “What did we just talk about?”

“Yes, I’m pretty.” You mumbled through the force of her hands.

“That’s it,” she cooed, removing her hand in favor of pulling you up by your upper arms and spinning you around, folding you over the table in front of you. With a gasp, your cheek came down on the wood with your hands flat next to your head. You were ass up, pink panties covering the one thing that nobody else had ever seen. “Whatever will I do with you, little lamb? God doesn’t like sluts who bend over for their priests.” Her hand came down to knead the flesh of your ass.

You whimpered, pushing back into the touch. It was humiliating, really, how wet you got when she said such vile things, using your religion, your existence against you. Even with that in mind, you were practically dripping through your panties, you may even be. All you knew was that your thighs were wet and that Sevika was the only one who could see anything else.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” You whined, glancing over your shoulder at her. The look in her eyes had far surpassed something sinister. She pressed her flesh thumb into the wet patch on your underwear, against your drenched entrance, laughing as you mewed.

“You’re in no position to make demands, peach. Not when you're this wet from some kissing. This how you feel every time you see me?” Her mech hand came down hard on your ass when you didn’t answer, making you flinch again. “The first time we met, I knew you’d be easy. Wide eyes and those pretty legs that rubbed together with every word I said. Has anyone ever touched you here before, little lamb?” She ran her flesh thumb up and down the sensitive skin and you attempted to tighten your thighs with no avail.

“No, only..” you trailed off as she sank to her knees, pressing a kiss into the crease between your ass and your upper thigh, letting them travel down your hamstring.

There was a pause before she answered you, “Only?” she pushed, desperate to know if her fingers would be the first in your pretty cunt. She continued her trail of kisses all over your thighs as you pondered whether or not to answer her.

“Only my own.” You whispered, guilt taking you over as you decided that answering was probably a better idea than whatever consequence she would award you if you didn’t.

She hummed. “What do you think about when you fuck your cunt with your fingers, pretty thing?” You clenched down on something nonexistent as her words shot straight to your core. This was absolutely disgusting. Before you could think to answer, her tongue was lapping lazily at your clit over your panties, taking a fat lick from your clit to your hole. Her hand came down on your ass again, learching you forward with a moan.

“You,” you sputtered, “I think about you.” she moaned into you, sending soft vibrations through your system, just enough to make you tense, a new wave of slick rushing through your panties.

She didn’t bother with any more humiliating questions with forced answers, instead opting to press her face into you and continue licking at your center over your panties. She went like that for several minutes, until you were practically crying and your panties were soaked - partially her spit and partially the wetness that was leaking from you like a hose.

Your mind was in a daze when she stood, tucking her fingers underneath the elastic of your underwear as she began to drag it over your ass. “Lift your hips, pretty girl. Let me make you feel good, since you’re so needy.” You couldn’t even think to do it, resulting in her lifting them for you. It only made you wetter, the way she lacked any form of struggle when lifting you, essentially doing it with one hand while she used the other to drag your pantues down.

She didn’t allow them to come all the way off before she was attaching her wide lips to your clit. With your panties strung around your ankles and her tongue on your clit, you knew that this was the end of anything pertaining to you and God. There was no place for God when she had a mouth like that.

“I think God blessed y’r pussy, baby. Tastes so fucking good.” She followed with a groan, sucking your clit into her mouth. You almost shrieked, lurching forward once again as the nerve exploded with feeling. Porn had never even come close to making you feel this way, let alone your pillow or fingers.

With a final peck, Sevika flicked her tongue against your entrence, pushing it through the tight muscle and wasting no time tongue-fucking you like you weren’t in a house of God. She was messy, grabbing your hips with both hands and pulling you into her face, letting you rock into it and hump her like some sort of dog. Her face was soaked, from her nose to her chin, but nothing was stopping her.

Sevika was having the time of her life. She got exactly what she wanted, just like she knew she would. And to make it even better, you had the wettest pussy of any girl she’d ever fucked. When she took her oath, she was sure that she would miss eating out the most, making you a prize. Your cunt was so good that she was sure she would resign the moment she got you home safe. THere was no way in hell she would be able to go without this for longer than a day.

Not only were you drenching her like a baptism, but you were also moaning and squirming and making all the best noises that drove a sane woman crazy. Your cunt had to be heaven, your body that of an angel. This was her blessing, her calling and her salvation. It was you, all of you.

A pit grew in your stomach, wrapping itself around every inch of your body until she whispered, “come, lamb” had your muscles relaxing and your legs shaking, wave after wave of pleasure rocking you like a punch. Sevika didn’t halt, drinking up every last drop that she could get from you, and she didn’t stop there.

Once she was sure your orgasm was over, she stood, flipping you over until your back was resting against the wood. She pressed her middle finger against your hole, groaning into your neck as you swallowed her in. “You’re such a good girl, yeah? Gonna get broken in tonight, peach. ‘m gonna stretch you so good, make you so full.” You practically screamed as she curled her single finger up into the best spot in your body, one that you hadn’t touched yourself.

“Vika, ‘s too much,” you slurred, but all she did was press her cold, mech thumb onto your tongue, husing you. She added another finger, letting you adjust knuckle by knuckle until you were full. She fucked you like that for some time, crooking up with every thurst until your tears were regular.

“One more big stretch, my girl can do it, can’t she?” you shook your head no, but it wasn’t true. You wanted to see how far you could go, how much you could take. Your body begged to indulge and be stretched open for her, molding to every part of her.

Her third, thick finger protruded your entrance and you cried out, fat salty tears falling down your cheeks. It burned when she got the first knuckle in, and your hand shot down to her wrist to hold it in place. Using the wetness that your mouth provided, she rubbed circles into your clit with her mech hand, helping you adjust to the feeling.

When she bottomed out, you were close to sobbing. She wasn’t joking when she insisted on filling you, you were full to the hilt, shaking like a leaf with every delicious curl of her fingers. Once she got going, there was no slowing her down. She fucked into you like the world was ending, unrelenting in her pace as she did nothing but watch all three fingers get sucked in every time.

Your mind was swimming, stuck in what you were sure was an alternate universe. There was no way that a single woman was making you feel this good, making your eyes roll back and your tongue loll out like you had no thoughts. “Hey,” she caught your attention, but your brain and recognition was at an all-time slow. “Watch your greedy,” you whined as her mech hand came down no your clit, “fucking,” it came down again, only increasing your noise, “cunt,” she finished it off with one final slap, “sucks in my fucking fingers.”

You gazed down, watching every thrust. You reached up, pulling her body against your own as you approached your next orgasm. You held her close to you, nails scratching and digging into her toned back when her mechanical hand began its pace on your clit. “Sev.. Sev, I-I can’t do it, it hurts,” you cried, hands tightening on her shoulders as your muscles tensed.

“My strong girl, you can do it. Give me another one.” She increased her pace ever so slightly and that’s what did it, clenching down on her so tightly that you feared for her circulation. You came for what felt like hours, shaking and crying and holding her like she was the only thing keeping you alive. “Atta girl, little lamb. See how good you are at listening?” You only moaned, further extending your finish.

When you were finally finished, she pulled her fingers from you and tapped your lips, motioning for you to open them. You did, not expecting her to push all three in and down your throat. You caught on quickly that she wanted you to suck them, sucking them clean of your own release. It was purely erotic, not coming anywhere close to things that you had done to yourself or thought of having done to yourself.

Once her fingers were clean, Sevika dipped her head down once again, this time only licking up the mess that you had already made. Her intentions didn't stop you from twitching and squirming, though. She pulled you up, letting you put all of your weight on her as she redressed you. Your legs were basically jelly, so much happening that there was no way you could stand or even manage to get yourself home.

Without asking, she effortlessly scooped you into her arms and out of the church, only briefly sitting you down to lock the doors. You wondered whether or not she had left things since she was clearly in a hurry, but it hardly mattered with the fuzzy state of your mind.

She got you home and helped you up the stairs to your apartment, but she didn’t stop there. She helped you change and tucked you in, even pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Sleep well, lamb.” She said softly as she disappeared out your door.

And you knew, then, that you weren’t ever going to see her again.

taglist: @viperinthecastle @sw33td3ath @caroteniodstereo @thehoneybeestings @losernb @ferxanda @livslifeonline @mommyissuesismypersonality @barelykiramman @ilyjupit3r @genderfluidlesbian999 @ghost-queen101 @lipglosskxsses @honeyylove @lesvii @diouna @inyavika @cinnamoworld @sevikassneakylink @lilithyys @beewwebb @mxlfchaser @coffinboy666 @half-of-a-gay @skullsbown @pinkysweettooth @swaggycunts-blog @windytulips @sevikaswifeomm @miguellover6969 @luvnette @okayyesbutno @babyspice333 @sallyfaith @ghostluvv3r @leeidk87 @chaiteasthings @thalchmy @glittzygorilla @lonerslug @ilovemealotz @bunni3wh0r3 @nonexistentsourcherry @pinkembodiment @lesbonym @rosebg @spring-sparrow @strawberrylipglossx @koralinebox @furpantscollective @bunnslittlecottontail @violetsangel1 @foreverordinary404

#Spotify #sevika #sevika smut #sevika my love #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #arcane league of legends #arcane league of lesbians #league of legends sevika #league of legends #sevika league of legends #league of lesbians #arcane smut #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #prey

593 notes · View notes