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bunnylovesani · 5 months

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A Rough Ride

Summary: Getting fucked in Anakin’s car. That’s about it.

Content Warnings: MDNI, major daddy issues/kink, p in v sex, degradation, mean dom/sub dynamic, spanking, fingering, slapping, cum play, facial, aftercare

WC: 1.8k

Hearing critical comments about your controversial relationship with a man 20 years your senior was nothing you weren’t used to. After several months, you’d acclimated to the jokes about how you must have daddy issues and how he must be a creep; the bottom line was that you loved Anakin and he loved you, the rest was just noise and it didn’t bother you in the slightest.

It was a whirlwind romance- a glance shared across a late-night bar led to a steamy night in a dirty motel room which led to the following 6 months of sex-fuelled fun. Guys your age just didn’t know how to fuck the way you needed to be fucked- you needed a man of experience, a man of skill.

That’s how you ended up bent over the backseat of his Ferrari, face pressed firmly against the leather interior while he roughly pounded into your cunt. You couldn’t muster up anything besides the occasional cry of “Harder daddy, please!” and “Mm, ’s so good…” and he chuckled dryly at the way you fell apart on his cock.

“Harder baby? You sure? I don’t wanna ruin this pretty pussy.” He hardened his grip on your hips, self-control slipping.

“Yesyesyes- please daddy ruin me.” You babbled, drool leaking down the side of your face and ruining your makeup.

“Alright darling, you got it.” He muttered under his breath, sloppy thrusts getting rougher and faster. “You’re such a daddy’s girl, aren’t you baby?”

You nod and let out a little “mhmm!”, chewing your bottom lip raw.

“Daddy’s good girl…y’know what happens to good girls?” He asks you, smacking the palm of his hand against your ass cheek. “Good girls get to cum.”

You whine and claw at the upholstery, knot in your tummy growing.

“Stop whining or I’ll give you something to whine about.” He growls and you look back at him in confusion, pretty doe eyes staring pitifully up at him.

“Good girls also shut up and take it.” He lifts his hips and buries his cock to the hilt, abdomen firmly smacking against you. You scream at the extra inches he’s given you and his movements come to a standstill; he usually restrains himself because he knows you can’t take his whole cock but he must be in a brutal mood today.

“I’m gonna start moving now, and if you can take it- I’ll let you cum. If you can’t, you’re gonna get on your knees instead. Understood?”

You nod, tears pricking at your eyes. You wanted to cum so badly but you weren’t sure if you could take such a rough pounding with his full length.

Slowly, he moves his hips back before pressing into you, tip kissing your cervix. You bite your fist and bury your forehead into the seat, trying so hard to be a good girl and not make a sound but after almost an hour of relentless pummeling, you were at the end of your rope.

“Good, stay nice and quiet f’me.” He grumbles as he begins to go harder, near-silent squeaks escaping your wet lips. You begin to slide your way out of his grip, distancing yourself away just a little to ease the pressure.

“Come back here.” He grabs your hips and impales you right back onto his dick with a stubborn grunt. Teeth marks form on your clenched fist and a wet spot pools on the back seat, spit connected between the puddle and your parted mouth. The feeling of him so deep in your guts is deliciously agonising and you can’t help but to give in and let him fuck you like you’re his sex toy. Once you stop fighting the intrusion, pleasure comes over you in intense waves, beads of sweat trickling down your back as you tremble. Squeaks of discomfort are replaced with quietly guilty moans of pleasure and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Anakin.

“Listen to me, you little slut.” He rakes his hand up the back of your head, firmly gripping your hair and roughly bringing you up to him. “You better not cum yet.” Your brows upturn and eyes glisten in a pleading countenance. “If you do, there will be consequences.” He warns you with a mischievous smirk, almost hoping you disobey him so he can have fun making you regret it.

You want to listen to him with every fibre of your being but you have no control over your own body when he’s fucking you like this. With an aggressive push, you’re thrown back onto the seat and you grip the side of it so hard you leave scratches all over the leather. Scrunching your face up, you feel yourself failing- disobeying his order as you’re pushed over the edge to your release. You try to stay still hoping he won’t notice but the way you clench around his cock, making it glisten with your creamy arousal is a dead giveaway.

“Oh now you’ve done it.” He scowls and pulls out suddenly, making you tense up in anticipation of your punishment. “Get on your knees.”

You uncurl out of the ball you’ve scrunched yourself into and follow his command, positioning yourself between his legs.

“I’m gonna cum all over that pretty whore face of yours.” He grabs the base of his dick and strokes himself, maintaining eye contact as he jerks off to the image of your angelic face.

You stick your tongue out as he comes undone, hot cum squirting out and landing all over your mouth and cheeks. You giggle happily as he rubs his spent cock around, letting you lick up the creamy mess. He comes closer and grabs you by the cheeks with one hand, rubbing his cum all over them before smacking you suddenly with an open palm.

“You like getting slapped around by a man twice your age?” He hits you again, firmly enough to leave your cheeks reddened but not so hard that it stings. He saves that for when you’re really bad.

Nodding, you beam with glee as you raise yourself off your knees, wanting to cuddle up to him like you usually do once you’re done but he stops you.

“Oh no, sweetheart. That wasn’t your punishment. Bend over my lap.” He tucks himself into his trousers and zips them back up before leaning back to allow you to take your position. Somewhat confused, you follow his lead and prop yourself over his legs, ass perched up in the air. His warm calloused hand glides over your ass and you hum contentedly, relishing in his touch. Abruptly, a loud smack is heard and your cheeks jiggle with the tremor of his strike.

“A-am I getting spanked, Ani?” You choke out in shock.

“Yes, you are baby. This is what happens when you misbehave. Daddy has to discipline you.” He calmly explains as he slaps you again, a little harder this time. You feel his hand trailing down to your pussy, fingers rubbing against the slit before slipping down to your throbbing clit. You’re so sensitive that you start squirming in his lap- a move he quickly puts an end to when his big-knuckled hand presses harshly against your back- pinning you down like you were an unruly kitten.

He leans over until his face is hovering above your ass before spitting a thick glob of saliva over your pussy, the drool seeping down to your hole. He groans as he smears it around before pushing two fingers into your throbbing hole, already sore from being fucked raw.

“Aniii…” You moan, burying your face into your hands as a sudden wave of shyness comes over you.

“What’s the matter, baby? You don’t like daddy makin’ you feel good?” He coos as he fucks you with his fingers, lewd squelching sounds filling the steamy car. “What’s wrong, my angel?”

“N-nothin’ daddy, it’s just- mm- too much!” You pant, head swirling.

“You can take it baby, you’re my big strong girl, aren’t you?” He murmurs softly and you huff breathily. Another slap lands on your rosy cheeks as he curls his fingers deeper, “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, daddy, yes- I can take it!” You sniffle, trying to compose yourself but the way he’s stretching you out coupled with the salty taste of his cum on your tongue has your concentration in tatters.

“Aw, you just need someone to take care of you, don’t you baby?” You sob out “mhmm!” in response and feel another orgasm coming on- he’d made you cum so many times you’d lost count.

“Daddy’s gonna take care of his baby.” He rubs the small of your back comfortingly while his fingers plunge in and out of you, pushing you over the edge into your release. You whine and wail as your thighs shake and he shushes you soothingly until you calm down- limp body collapsed over his lap.

“C’mere baby.” He opens his arms and you jump into them, wrapping your arms urgently around his neck.

“Woah darling, you okay?” He places his broad hand on the back of your head, tucking you into his warm chest.

“Y-yeah. I’m just- ugh!” You choke out frustratedly, tears streaming down your face from how overwhelmed you felt.

“Shh baby, shh- I know.” He coddles you and you let yourself sob into him. He made you feel such strong emotions you didn’t know how to handle them- so you often curled up into his lap and unravelled after a particularly intense round.

“How does some hot chocolate, your favourite movie and a fort of blankies and plushies sound?” He lightly nudged his nose against yours and you perked up instantly.

“Sounds amazing, Ani.” Your heart warmed with how he cared for you, it was unlike anything you’d ever had before.

“We just need to get through this first.” He rubs any remnants of cum off your face with his sleeve, smoothing your frizzy hair down with his other hand. “We kinda chose an inopportune moment for this…”

You poke your head up and remember your surroundings- you’re parked in a dark alley around the corner from Anakin’s house. His friends and family had gathered for a Christmas dinner being hosted at his place and it was meant to be your first time meeting most of them. Glancing into the front view mirror, you gasped at the sight: your makeup was utterly ruined- mascara smudged, lipstick smeared and your hair looked like you’d been dragged through a bush.

“Ani! How ‘m I supposed to meet them like this?” You mewled, wanting desperately to make a good first impression considering the controversy and disapproval that surrounded your relationship.

“I don’t know baby, you should’ve thought about that before you started acting like a little brat.” He shrugs, opening the car door and stepping into the crisp winter air. “You coming?” He held his hand out with a self-satisfied smirk, eager to show off the mess he’d made of you.

Taglist:

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327 @offthethirlwall @bby-imasociopath @slvttedoutmars @emmalandry

#anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin fanfiction #star wars smut #hayden christensen fan fiction

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lqfiles · 25 days

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PAY THE PRICE — 3. midnight disturbance

(wc: 1040)

you were drowsy, in a state of almost slumber yet still awake enough to be aware of some senses. for instance, you could feel how cold the room was, your duvet having slipped off your legs and doing little to keep your feet warm.

you could smell the scent of fresh furniture, the place still not having accustomed to your own scent.

you could also somewhat make out the sound of soft background noise in your ear. though, with your eyes still closed and your mind drifting between consciousness and sleep, the sound seemed to slowly drift away, and it became harder to differentiate its realness.

and then you jolted awake.

you jolted up from your bed, clutching onto your blanket as your heart rate had spiked at the loud noise. you were fully awake now, turning your head in all directions in hopes of catching the culprit behind whatever just happened. matter of fact, what did just happen?

slowly, you grew more agitated as your sleep was abruptly disrupted. with your drowsiness slowly wearing off, you frowned and you wondered where the commotion could’ve come from. after a minute or so, silenced filled your room again and you laid back down as your heartbeat slowed.

you took a small breath in before blowing it back out, adjusting your blanket so it covered your frozen body and you snuggled comfortably into your mattress, ready to fall back asleep.

your eyes flew open once again as the sound that was definitely coming from the other side of the wall had returned. with your sleep still not fully back, you heard it much clearer. music. more specifically, a guitar. a very annoyingly loud guitar that was currently being plucked.

your hand had reached for your phone on the nightstand next to you, the numbers displaying that it was already late night hours and it only fuelled your confusion more, because why in the world would someone be playing their guitar in the middle of the night? “it’s too early for this..” you whispered.

you were hopeful and assumed whoever was on the other side of your wall just wanted to check on their guitar strings, and would be considerate enough to stop soon. much to your dismay, that didn’t happen and after 20 minutes of strumming, you assumed that whoever was on the other of your wall cared about anything but being considerate at this hour.

with a grunt, you got up and stood in front of the wall next to your bed. placing your ear against the wall, the music reached your hearing clearer and louder. your hand had reached up, forming into a ball before you knocked on the wall next to you.

the first few knocks went unnoticed, the sound of the guitar overlapping it. your knocks grew more aggressive and louder, almost banging on the wall by this point. this seemed to have an affect as the strumming quietened, leaving a muffled reverb behind.

“thank go-” your whispered before your words were abruptly cut off by the same guitar, picking up its previous tune. “you’re kidding me..” you uttered in disbelief, staring at the wall, perplexed. you had flinched away from the wall at the noise, and your disbelief quickly turned into frustration. without much thought, you turned on your heels and walked out of your room, straight ahead to your front door.

it was probably the lack of sleep as well as the lack of common decency that brought you to the door you assumed belonged to the culprit behind the disturbance. your hand once again reached up, repeatedly knocking on the door in front of you.

the hallway was much colder than your room and you shivered as you stood barefooted there for god knows how long. whoever it was must have heard you, as the guitar playing stopped and it remained silent for a minute. reaching up to knock again, you were taken aback by the door unlocking and slowly opening.

you squinted your eyes as the door opened, and you were met with a dark interior at first before a figure emerged. despite your eyes being halfway closed, you were able to make out the silhouette of a boy who’s upper body peeked from behind the door. blinking a few times, your eyes met with his that seemed just as confused as you were, the frown on his face confirmed your suspicion.

“excuse me, i’m sorry to disturb” you started, your eyes slowly getting used to the lights in the hallway that contrasted your previous dark surroundings. “but.. are you the one playing the guitar so late at night?” you hesitantly asked.

the boy across you nodded as he held an almost bored-like look on his face and you subconsciously looked him up and down. he wore a simple white shirt, and black shorts seemed to peek from behind the door too. his eyes that met yours again were covered by his black rimmed glasses and the last thing you took notice of was the copper brown hair he sported.

if it wasn’t for the fact that he disturbed your sleep, you would’ve focused on how it was pretty cute sight.

“oh, well, i was wondering if you.. can you maybe do that later in the day? i’m kind of trying to sleep right now.” your finger had pointed to the door next to him and he stuck his head out to follow. his expression seemed to change for a second as his brows had furrowed. he looked back and forth between you and your room door.

with his head back inside his place, he gave you a quick up and down look before a small scoff emitted from his lips. he muttered something you were barely able to hear, because he simultaneously closed the door in your face.

you stared at the door in surprise, wondering if that really just happened to you. you were definitely awake by now, your eyes wide open and your jaw ajar. your hand reached up to knock again.

in those 3 minutes you stood outside his door, knocking on his door, he never opened it again. the sound of his guitar didn’t return either, but you couldn’t care much anymore as you felt too annoyed to even return back to sleep.

what a horrible first impression.

previous — master list — next

notes ; first y/nhyuck interaction how cute 🥹

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @yeritos @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @aggtslva @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

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dollwrites · 8 months

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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, noncon and then dubcon, suggested age gap ( reader is early 20s, yujiro is late 30s ), light degradation, impact play, clit torture, reader cries, name calling ( whore ), face slapping, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day eight [ yujiro hanma + impact ]

it takes two fingers to make you cry.

two of Yujiro’s massive, powerful digits to make you tremble and beg for mercy.

“Shameful,” he mutters, an air of disdain to his rumbly baritone. as if he’s disappointed in how quickly you turn to blubbering. “I’ve hardly touched you.” but the wicked grin he wore told the truth— that he knew how much pressure he’d applied with those two fingers, and he expected nothing less than to make you sob. “And I can’t tell from those whiny noises if you’re really needy or fucking pathetic.”

you were both.

the length of his fingers rub between your sticky folds, their thickness forcing your netherlips to slot around them, and you squirm and pant, but it’s when he taps against your swollen clit that you really lose it. unlike any other man, when the rough pads make contact with your button, you don’t feel the sting on the exposed and vulnerable exterior nerves as if you’ve been spanked, but the raw power he could channel through his fingers. it surges through your core, seeping deep into you, reaching spongy, hidden clusters of sensitivity that should be impossible. as if he’d aimed right for them, he focuses each assault. your clit throbs, but it’s the iceberg’s submerged nerves that take the brunt of the impact.

“Y—Yujiro!” you cry out, as you twitch and writhe beneath him.

you didn’t know how this was possible.

how he could do this.

it shouldn’t have been possible.

and yet, when he did it again, battering your body’s defenses with a drumming of his two fingers against your clit, and you feel as though he’s struck you with a high voltage cattle prod, your back arches, desperate to push him off. your heels push against the mattress, eager to try and scramble away from the sensation.

“That—!” that hurts like hell. it’s too much. what are you doing? these all came to mind, but you couldn’t voice a single one. his fingertips drum against you, a barrage of rapid fire, superhuman pressure targeting your most sensitive depths, and you threw your head back, tears pricking against the corners of your eyes. it hurt, but there was more to it than just pain. as if he’d stuck the world’s most powerful vibrator directly against your hyper-sensitive interior nerves, a rush of flustered euphoria rushes to your stomach, knotting it up. “S-s—top—“

you weren’t sure if you really wanted him to, though. your body screamed and writhed, convulsing as he attacks your sex, but at the same time, your toes curl tight, and your breath turns into furious, warm puffs. your hips winding like a snake, trying to hump up against his large, rough hand.

“I-I’m— gonna—!”

“Cum from the abuse?” Yujiro’s voice is low, his mouth twisted in a hungry smile that could be misread as a grin. “Your little legs are starting to tremble; you’re sobbing but you can’t stop riding my hand, begging for me to keep hurting you. Do you know what that makes you?”

you look away, smearing your tear-stained cheek into the pillow as you pant and mumble, hoping for a mercy that you knew he’d never give you. “Yujiro… p-please…”

“Go ahead and say it.” tap. tap. tap. you gurgle and grunt, hips bucking as you smother your own whimpers. “What does that make you?”

you knew what he wanted to hear. the word he’s drilled into your head since day one. the word that he’s called you over and over. but you couldn’t say it. not without a little more persuasion, which he was more than willing to give you.

your face is tiny and delicate as he snatches it up by your chin, dragging it back and pushing the back of your head into the pillow. “Look at me,” his massive chest rises and falls, he snorts every, heavy breath through flared nostrils. you flinch, bathed in the heat of his ragged breathing, smushed into the mattress, forced on your back. you hear the smack of his palm making contact with your supple cheek before you feel the certain pain to follow, and it rocks your face to the side. in the moment that follows, fire floods your face and you see stars, and blink rapidly to maintain your eyesight. “One more time. Look here.” he says, his mighty thumb pressing against your chin as he pulls your face back into place. you’re staring at him in shock, his second mind numbing slap coming down hard on the same spot. to him, it was the mildest swat, but to you? your head was swimming, as if he’d slapped your brains loose, and you’re vaguely aware of the thickness of two, massive digits between your thighs pushing into your clenching hole.

“F—fuck—!”

“You’re covered in my marks, the shape of my hand will be a bruise on your face for a week, maybe longer.” he seems to chuckle at that, angling your face back to him. you worry he might hit you again. you prepare for impact, but it doesn’t come. he just holds your face there. you’ve no choice but to comply, peeking up at him with sparkling eyes and parted lips. “But you’re still fucking wet. Your cunt is still squeezing my fingers, and you’re still going to cum. What does that make you.”

“A…. Whore….” your voice is soft, and you choke on the word, almost not wanting to say it, but when you do, a wide, demonic grin stretches across his face, turning his muscles into elastic.

“Not good enough. Whose?”

“Y—Your… whore.”

#yujiro hanma #yujiro x reader #yujiro x you #yujiro smut #yujiro hanma x reader #yujiro hanma x you #yujiro hanma smut #Baki #baki hanma #baki hanma x reader #baki hanma x you #baki hanma smut

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ralfmaximus · 5 months

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I was watching a deep dive into the Tesla Cybertruck by (sigh) a Tesla fanboy reviewer, because honestly there's not much to pick from aside from Tesla fanboy handjobs "reviews" so far.

Tesla does not seem to be in a hurry to get these things into the hands of unbiased reviewers. Wonder why. Such a mystery.

Anyway.

So this Musk fanboy (who carefully states that he is neutral and has driven lots of EVs but owns a Model S but totally not biased nosir) spends a full 20 minutes circling the exterior of the Cybertruck pointing out all the ~exciting~ styling cues but not getting into any of its actual... Cybertruckness. Like show us the interior, dude.

I am almost ready to give up and hit Eject when

when

he says, "this is a drive-by-wire system, in that the steering wheel isn't directly connected to the front steering, but rather talks to a controller that turns the front wheels via actuators" before quickly moving onto the next--

WHAT

100% drive-by-wire means if power fails on your Cybertruck, or the computer crashes, or the software freezes... you lose 100% of your steering.

Note that other cars (Mercedes, Lexus) have drive-by-wire systems, but they are also augmented with physical linkages. Which allows the driver to continue steering the car in the event of a power failure, albeit with more physical force required. The same way hydraulic power steering works. You know, to get safely stopped.

But not Cybertruck.

Nope. If power glitches in Cybertruck you'll die gripping a dead steering wheel.

I stopped watching after that.

#tesla #cybertruck

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beskarandblasters · 8 months

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Group Therapy

Frankie Morales x F!Reader x Tommy Miller

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading! 🤍

Summary: Frankie Morales & Tommy Miller are both sent to a veteran’s support group by their doctors where they meet and become friends. Both men take a liking to you, the group therapist. And instead of getting angry with each other Tommy comes up with a fun little idea after therapy one night.

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent for both TLOU & TF (no outbreak and Frankie moves to Texas, not Florida), age gap (Frankie is in his early 40’s & Tommy is in his late 40’s, Reader is in her 20's), this is a hipaa-less land ok, drinking, threesome, fingering, oral sex (M and F receiving), vaginal sex, semi public sex, creampie, pet names (darlin', sweetheart, good girl, dirty girl), slight degradation, no use of y/n

“I recommend going to therapy. There’s a support group for veterans at the baptist church downtown. It’s in the basement.”

Therapy? Really?

Frankie sighs. Therapy is not really his thing. At least the one his doctor is suggesting is with a group. That way he can attend the meeting and coast by, just listening to other people’s problems and indulging in refreshments after. They usually have cookies at these things, right?

“Mr. Morales?” the doctor asks, snapping Frankie from his thoughts.

Frankie sighs, “When is it?”

“Wednesday nights from six to seven thirty.”

It’s already Tuesday, Frankie thinks to himself. Another sigh.

“Fine.”

Churches make Frankie uncomfortable now. He was raised Catholic as a kid but after everything life has thrown at him, he’s not sure what he believes anymore.

He walks down the steps into the rather institutionalized looking basement of the church, a stark contrast from the ornate interior of the upstairs. He scans the room for an open seat. And of course the chairs are arranged in a circle because why wouldn’t they be?

He picks a seat off to the side of the circle. And to his delight, it’s right by the refreshments table. He takes a look around the room as he sits down. People of all ages are seated in the circle but there’s an abundance of older men for sure; older than Frankie. He takes a look to his right and sees a man with black hair and a mustache. The man notices Frankie looking and makes eye contact with him. A look of recognition washes over the man’s face even though Frankie’s never met him.

“… Do I know you?” Frankie asks, after a moment of uncomfortable glances.

“No,” the man chuckles to himself, “You’re just the spitting image of my brother, Joel, when he was a little younger, that’s all.”

“Ah, okay,” Frankie says, fidgeting in his seat a little.

“Nervous?”

“Uhh-”

“I was nervous for my first session, too. It’ll get easier.”

“How long have you been coming?”

“This is my third week.”

That makes Frankie feel a little bit better; the fact that it doesn’t take too long to get assimilated here. The uneasiness in his stomach starts to subside, but only slightly.

“I’m Tommy by the way,” the man says, outstretching his hand.

Frankie shakes his hand, noting in his mind that Tommy has a strong handshake; an important judge of a man’s character, of course.

“Uh, nice to meet you. I’m Frankie.”

“What branch were you, Frankie? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Army. You?”

“Same!”

“No kidding,” Frankie says, but before he can continue the session begins.

Two women walk down the steps into the basement before sitting at the head of the circle, presumably the group therapists. One of the therapists clears her throat and starts with, “How has everyone’s week been so far?”

A cluster of various one word answers are thrown into the circle. Frankie looks around the room before stopping his gaze on… you. You look nervous, too; like you feel you don’t belong here.

A judgmental thought crosses Frankie’s mind. These two are gonna console a bunch of traumatized veterans? But he immediately feels guilty for it. Plus, he keeps going back to the lost expression on your face, an expression that betrays your innermost thoughts; you don’t think you’re good enough for this.

The first woman nods and continues, “Well if you’re having a good week so far, keep it up. And if not, maybe we can turn that around. But to start, I just want to introduce some of the new faces here.”

“You might’ve noticed I’m not alone today. I’d like to introduce you to my co-therapist,” she says, followed by your name.

Frankie repeats the name in his mind a few times, deciding he likes the way it sounds. He doesn’t realize he’s staring at you until the other woman calls his name.

“I’d also like to introduce Mr. Morales to the group tonight.”

“Frankie’s fine,” Frankie says sheepishly, cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

“Of course. Glad to have you here with us. I’m Gin by the way.”

Frankie mutters a “thank you” and then immediately regrets it. That was dumb. What is he supposed to be thanking her for?

His palms grow sweaty and he presses them on his jeans to dry them, trying to quell his anxiety.

Frankie’s too busy with his own anxiety to notice that Tommy’s looking at you. His eyes scan up and down your form, noticing every detail from the way your legs are crossed, the cut of your shirt revealing a bit of your collarbone, and the slight furrow of your brows. He can tell you’re nervous, too.

Gin leads the session and you sort of stay quiet, just observing her techniques as to how she gets these men to open up. You notice that one person is talking a lot, responding to almost everything anyone says. If there was a way to be a try hard at therapy, he’s succeeding. You know his name is Tommy because before the session started Gin pulled you aside on the stairs and pointed everyone out to you. The group isn’t that big, consisting of only eight men. Gin got the call from Frankie’s doctor yesterday afternoon, notifying her that he’ll be joining. So now your group is a nice even ten, including you and Gin.

You make eye contact with Tommy a few times throughout the session. And every time you do he shoots you a small smirk. You can’t tell if he’s trying to flirt or just being nice. Either way you can’t help but notice how attractive he is, with his dark hair and matching mustache perched above his lips. There’s a sort of playful glimmer in his eyes, too, almost as if he can flirt with you with just a look and nothing more.

Tommy isn’t the only one who caught your eye. Frankie’s sitting next to Tommy and although he looks like a nervous wreck, there’s something endearing about him. Past the nervousness you notice his brown curls peeking out from underneath his baseball cap. He’s a handsome man; a handsome nervous man. All you learn about him is that he was in the army and his nickname was Catfish. Maybe you’ll learn more as he attends more sessions.

Soon enough, the hour and thirty minutes comes to an end. Everyone starts to stand up and gather their belongings. Frankie immediately heads to the refreshments table, taking a small stack of cookies and quickly flees the room. Tommy looks back at you, shooting you one last smile before following Frankie upstairs.

He finds Frankie in the parking lot and walks up behind him, clapping him on the shoulder, startling Frankie a bit.

“Survived your first therapy session!” Tommy says.

“Oh, yeah…” Frankie responds quietly.

“See you next week?” Tommy asks before walking to his truck.

Frankie sighs as if he’s contemplating it and decides, “You know what? Yeah, you will.”

He walks off to his truck and shoots Tommy a wave before getting in and driving away.

Until next week it is.

It’s Wednesday again. Frankie spent the whole day dreading therapy tonight. Five forty-five rolls around, it’s time for Frankie to get in his truck and leave. He drags his feet down the driveway, hoping that no unwanted attention will be drawn to him tonight. The drive there he’s fidgeting anxiously, palms growing clammy and sweaty against the leather steering wheel. He pulls into the parking lot and backs to a parking spot that so happens to be next to Tommy’s truck. He shoots Frankie a small wave from his driver’s seat. And now Frankie starts to feel at least a little bit at ease. There’s something warm and inviting about Tommy that Frankie noticed. Maybe it’s because he’s somehow got the hang of this therapy thing after only three weeks. Maybe he could ask him how he does it over a beer after a therapy session. Maybe.

“So last week didn’t scare you off?” Tommy jokes as they both get out of their trucks.

“Not yet,” Frankie jokes back, offering a small, weakened laugh.

“Proud of ya, Fish,” Tommy nods.

And with that, they head into the church and down to the institutionalized, mundane basement. They sit next to each other again just like the week before and watch the others shuffle in. And then both sets of eyes fixate on you; you and the way your hips sway as you walk down the steps, holding your head up a little bit higher than last time. Maybe you’re starting to get the hang of this, too.

You and Gin take your seats at the top of the circle and begin this week’s session. Frankie finds himself transfixed on the way you’re able to make him feel seen and heard, even with the little details he offers tonight, not quite ready to share everything yet. You do the same for the others, nodding your head when they tell you stories and offering sympathetic glances. He feels a little jealous when you do that for anyone else. But… why? Isn’t this your job?

Perhaps it’s because there’s something else there. Wait no, that’s stupid. It’s his second day of therapy and he’s falling for this therapist?

Get a grip, Frankie, he tells himself.

Tommy noticed the way Frankie looks at you, because he was doing the same last week. And the two weeks before Frankie joined. Is he jealous? Nah, he gets it. He just smirks to himself and stares down at his boots planted on the floor.

The hour and thirty minutes flies by. And Frankie’s almost sad it’s over, emphasis on almost. While he could stare at your pretty face all night, he can’t talk about his feelings and his trauma all night.

He helps himself to some cookies at the refreshment table again, a feeble reward for finishing another session, before heading up the stairs. His gaze is locked on you until you’re out of view, almost tripping up the stairs since he didn’t watch where he was going.

And Tommy watches all of this unfold and quietly chuckles to himself.

He’s got it bad, he thinks to himself.

Maybe he could help Frankie out.

In the parking lot Tommy finds Frankie walking back to his truck.

“Hey,” he calls out softly, not wanting to startle him.

Frankie turns around, mid bite into a cookie, and looks at Tommy with an eyebrow raised.

“You wanna get a drink next door at the Legion next door?” Tommy asks, pointing at the American Legion next to the church with his thumb.

It’s like Tommy read Frankie’s mind. He swallows the bite of the cookie he has in his mouth and says, “Sure” before walking next door with Tommy.

Over two bottles of Miller Lite Frankie thinks that Tommy’s going to give him tips about overcoming anxiety in therapy but the reality is… he couldn’t be more wrong.

“I saw you looking at her,” Tommy says nonchalantly.

“Huh?”

“You know who I’m talking about. Can’t say I blame ya. Been doing the same thing myself since I first started coming.”

“Oh, if you were interested in her first I’ll back off,” Frankie says sheepishly.

“No. No, that’s not what I’m saying at all brother.”

“So then what are you saying? I thought you asked me to get a beer to give me tips about getting rid of the stress of therapy,” Frankie says, unsure of what Tommy’s motive is.

“Oh, I have something that will get rid of your stress alright.”

“And that is?”

“Keep an open mind, okay?”

“Uhh-”

“A threesome.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m being serious, Fish.”

“Isn’t this crossing some sort of boundary?”

“We’d all be consenting adults.”

“So what do you suggest we do? How does one approach their therapist for a threesome?”

“Let me do all the talking.”

“That’s a given.”

“We’ll approach her next week after therapy, okay?”

Frankie sighs. This is such a bad idea. But he’s also not saying no.

“Fine. But if this goes badly you’re finding us another therapy group.”

“Deal.”

What both men don’t know is that you’re catching onto both of them. As you and Gin are packing up the leftover cookies while Frankie and Tommy are grabbing a beer, Gin says to you, “Tommy and Frankie are so into you. I saw the way they were looking at you.”

“What? No they weren’t!” you say, shocked that she’d say such a thing.

“They were! And I’m not saying they’re into you but I’m also not not saying they’re into you,” she says as you two walk up the stairs and into the parking lot.

“Do with that what you will,” she finishes with a small smirk before walking to her car.

Maybe she’s right.

The past two therapy sessions were nothing compared to tonight. Frankie’s more nervous than ever. And not even for the actual therapy. Tonight Tommy’s gonna propose his plan to you. And Frankie is scared shitless for your response. He doesn’t even know how he’s gonna go about asking you. How does one ask their therapist to have a threesome? Because Frankie doesn’t have a clue.

Somehow the basement feels smaller than ever. Frankie can’t even look at the refreshments table without feeling like he’s going to gag. His gaze bounces back and forth between Tommy, you, and the floor. But somehow Tommy is maintaining his ever cool demeanor, leaning back in his hair with his legs slightly spread apart, head cocked to the side with a slight smirk on his face.

And you’re going along with it, leaning fully into the idea of both men being attracted to you. And they both present their attraction to you so differently. Tommy is confident, never faltering his eye contact with you, his body language confident and flirtatious. Frankie, on the other hand, can barely bring himself to look you in the eye. The poor thing is a nervous wreck. And when he does look at you, a flustered expression washes over his face. You can’t decide which one you like more.

Therapy wraps up and normally you and Gin stick around after to talk. But this time she quickly helps put the room back together before leaving, shooting you a wink as she walks up the stairs.

Eventually the others shuffle out and it’s just you, Tommy and Frankie in the basement. The men both approach you but Frankie lets Tommy take the lead as they both discussed the week prior.

“Hey there, darlin’. We were just wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with us next door.”

Frankie winces at the nickname and in anticipation of your response. But to his surprise you say yes without missing a beat. And before Frankie knows it the three of you are heading next door to the American Legion.

Sitting at a table in the corner you, Frankie and Tommy have a couple rounds of beer. As you drink you notice Frankie starts to loosen up for once. The alcohol cuts the tension and the small talk opens him up, all thanks to Tommy’s lead.

Eventually, the conversation hits a lull and Tommy clears his throat. For a beat he looks nervous, too. But it goes away almost instantly when he talks.

“So darlin’, my friend over there has been dealing with some stress regarding therapy.”

“Completely understandable,” you say.

“I was thinking you might have a way you could help him.”

“Oh?”

A smirk graces his face. It doesn’t take long for you to pick up what he’s putting down.

“Me and him?” you ask, gesturing to Frankie.

“Me, you, and him,” Frankie says quietly.

“Oh,” you say, eyes widening.

“Right now?” you ask after a moment of contemplation.

“Eager little thing, aren’t ya?” Tommy chuckles.

“Where would we do it here?” you ask.

“I’m sure this place has loads of rooms,” Tommy says, “I’ll go look first,” he continues, before getting up and walking down the hallway across the room.

After a moment you see him appear at the end of the hallway, motioning for you and Frankie to come over.

“One at a time?” you ask, looking back at Frankie.

He nods nervously and you get up to meet Tommy in the hallway. After a moment Frankie joins you, the three of you standing in front of a door.

“Found just the place,” Tommy says, opening the door and going into the room.

It’s a large room, full of folded up tables and chairs. Tommy closes the door after you and Frankie go in, and thankfully it locks.

“They must use this room for parties,” Frankie says.

“This looks like a party to me, huh Fish?”

You can’t help but laugh. This dynamic between the two of them is too good. And it’ll be even better with you sandwiched in between them.

“Let’s unfold one of those bad boys,” you say, pointing to one of the folded up tables.

Tommy and Frankie unfold one of the tables resting against a wall. And you waste no time taking your clothes off. They turn around once they’re done unfolding the table and their mouths fall open, completely gawking at your naked form.

“Now you’re definitely an eager little thing,” Tommy smirks, walking over to you and grabbing you by the waist. He starts by kissing your neck, sinking his teeth into it and nipping hard enough to leave a light mark. His hand trails from your waist down to your thighs, fingertips ghosting the soft flesh. Frankie watches as he kisses your neck and palms your thigh, his cock growing hard and straining against his jeans. You turn your head and look over at him, saying suggestively, “Well aren’t you gonna join us?”

Frankie gulps and walks over to you slowly, positioning himself behind you. He grabs your ass and kisses along your collarbone, on the side of your neck where Tommy isn’t. God, he’s so nervous. But it also feels right, being pressed up against you with his hands all over your body.

Tommy sinks his hand between your thighs and you part your legs a little, just enough for his fingers to graze your cunt.

“So wet already, darlin’. Bet you got wet just by looking at us back there in the church, huh?”

He’s not entirely wrong. You moan in response as he presses a finger against your clit, swirling around it tenderly.

Frankie moves up your collarbone to your neck and then up to your ear, nipping the love with his teeth before tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. Your knees buckle due to the different spots of stimulation happening all over your body.

“Let’s get you on the table, darlin’,” Tommy chuckles, walking you over to the table with Frankie.

You situate yourself on top of it, feeling the cool plastic against your warm back, the front of your body peppered with goosebumps as you await more touch. Tommy takes some of your wetness between his fingertips, rubbing them together and pulling them apart, your wetness stretching and following the moment of his fingers. He places them in his mouth, tasting your juices and moistening his fingers for you. He slides one finger in slowly just as Frankie starts to play with your nipples. He takes them between his index finger and his thumb with light pressure, watching the way your breasts move as you breathe deeper.

“Harder,” you tell him softly, needing more.

He pinches your nipples harder, eliciting a moan from you and a chuckle from Tommy.

“Play with her body, Fish. Find out what she likes,” Tommy says as he adds a second finger.

Frankie listens to Tommy and lowers his head by your breast, this time taking a nipple in his mouth. You arch your back at the dual stimulation, both men pulling the deepest moans from you.

Frankie releases your nipple with a pop and brings his face by your ear, “Gotta be careful, sweetheart. Don’t want them to hear us, do we?”

You nod, looking him deep in the eyes when he pulls his head away from your ear, in disbelief at what you’re doing right now. But the line’s already been crossed and none of you give a shit.

Frankie goes back to sucking your nipple and Tommy curls his fingers upwards against your walls, bringing his thumb to your clit and applying pressure. He marvels at the way your cunt grips his fingers and at how soft and spongy your walls are, feeling like heaven to him. You tighten around his fingers when you get close, in no time at all.

“Gonna come for me, darlin’? Soak my fingers,” he commands.

And you do, soaking his hand down to his wrist. Your orgasm intensified by Frankie’s mouth on your breast. The muscles in your core contract and release erratically before slowing down and stopping. Tommy pulls his hand from you slowly and walks over by your head, showing you the mess you made.

“Good girl,” he says before putting his fingers in his mouth.

“Better get down there and taste her pussy, Fish. She tastes so sweet,” he continues, licking his fingers clean.

Frankie moves down between your legs, kneeling on the floor and hooking his arms around your thighs. He licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt and once he’s had a taste he becomes insatiable, lapping at your wetness like a man dying of thirst. While he eats you out, Tommy stays by your head, caressing your face and talking you through it.

“He’s eating your pussy real good isn’t he, darlin’?”

You can only nod in response.

“I can tell. Look at the way you’re squirming. Dirty girl getting her pussy eaten in a public place.”

Oh fuck. You’re already getting close to the edge again, thanks to Frankie’s work on your cunt. The way he eats you is indescribable; some of the best you’ve ever had, if not the best.

Frankie pushes two fingers in your cunt, desperate to try and get you to squirt for him. And this is when you start seeing stars, back arched completely and the feeling too good to even be remotely quiet. And then you cum, hard and wet. Frankie was successful, your own release soaking the table underneath you as Frankie licks your cut coming down from its high.

“Good girl,” Tommy says, looking at the mess you made.

Frankie stands up and hastily takes his cock out of his jeans. Tommy does, too, before bringing a hand back to your face and saying, “You ready, darlin’? We’re gonna take good care of you.”

Tommy and Frankie share a glance, like they both understand Tommy will get your mouth and Frankie will get your cunt. You nod and get ready for Tommy’s cock in your mouth. He holds your hair and eases it in, letting your jaw get adjusted. Meanwhile Frankie spreads your wetness on his cock and slides into your cunt. You knew he’d be big but it literally feels like he’s splitting you apart, his cock expanding your walls with each of his trusts. The table creaks and makes noises against the force of Frankie’s thrusts, all while Tommy fucks your mouth, both your cunt and mouth feeling completely full.

“You like taking two cocks at once, dirty girl?” Tommy says looking down at you, his pupils blown wide.

You hum with a “Mhm” and Tommy curses under his breath at the vibration. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes as Frankie fucks you deeper and deeper, the head of his cock grazing your cervix. He licks his thumb and brings it to your cunt. You’re not gonna last much longer. Your walls tighten up around his cock, getting rest for a big release. With one last thrust of his cock and swirl of his thumb on your clit, you’re coming and coming hard, crying out at the feeling.

Your cries trigger Tommy’s orgasm, his hands gripping your hair tighter and his head thrown back in pleasure. He spills his cum down your throat and you swallow all of it before he takes his cock out, letting you catch your breath.

He stands back and puts his cock away, telling Frankie, “She’s all yours now, Fish. Wreck that little pussy.”

And with that Frankie fucks you roughly, with so much force like he’s letting out his stress, frustration, and anger. A dark look washes over his face and it’s so fucking hot, like he’s using you; like you’re just a toy to him.

You cum again, just as hard if not harder than the last one. Your whole body tingling, starting at your core and spreading outwards. And when you cum, Frankie cums, too, his cum painting your insides. He slows his thrusts before slowly pulling out of you and catching his breath.

You sit up after a month and catch your breath, too, still in bliss of the moment but also realizing that you were probably in this room for a very long time and that you need to leave. You move to get off the table and Frankie helps you to your feet, while Tommy grabs your clothes. They help you get dressed since you’re truly spent.

“Good girl,” Frankie says, kissing the top of your head once you’re dressed.

“See? All that stress melted away thanks to you, darlin’,” Tommy chuckles, walking to the door.

“One at a time,” he says. You and Frankie nod. Tommy leaves first followed by you then Frankie. On the walk through the Legion and to the parking lot you keep your gaze averted to the floor, because people are definitely suspicious.

Tommy and Frankie walk you back to your car in the church parking lot but before they leave you Tommy says, “Same time next week?”

“Sounds good to me,” Frankie says, not missing a beat.

“Deal,” you laugh before getting in your car and driving away.

Group therapy has a whole new meaning.

End note: Let me know if you’d like to see anymore Tommy and Frankie content from me!! Either separately or in this little threesome lmao

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#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller #the last of us #triple frontier #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #tommy miller smut #triple frontier fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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nanamimizz · 2 years

Text

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝚬?

tags: age gap (kishibe is in his early 50′s and reader is late 20′s to early 30′s), discussion of mortality, discussion of marriage, reader and kishibe have known each other for awhile but have only dated for 3 months, gn reader, pet names such as ex. sweetheart, kishibe knows he’s crazy.), reader calls him old man like, once LMAO, 1.k words, fluff mostly.

synopsis: no one knows more than kishibe that he has a screw loose, maybe that’s why he asked you to marry him.

Kishibe comes home to a plate of food on the table. The apartment is dark and clean but it isn’t clinical and cold like how it used to be when it was him alone. From the walls to the floors it feels like home. You’ve filled the cream walls with pleasant-to-look-at art, with framed pictures of you and him, other co-workers at the Public Safety Devil Hunters from night outs. There are soft, small pillows on the sofa and quilts on the armrests. You put them there from your old place after you moved in with him after the 2nd month of dating.

He joked that you should be an interior designer with how nice his apartment looks now. You snorted and flicked his ear. He let you.

You made curry with chicken katsu, the plate is covered in saran wrap and there is a pot of miso soup left on the stove. Kishibe told you not to leave dinner out for him but you rolled your eyes and told him off - “An old man like you can’t live off convenience store food, let me make dinner for you.”

Kishibe thinks that’s what he likes about you; your presence in the apartment, the way you make him dinner even though he told you not to - he thinks you stay up for him, sometimes. Your chair is crooked against the table when he arrives in the middle of the night because he straightens the chair after he finishes the dinner you left for him, washes the plate, and puts any leftovers you left for him in the fridge for you to take to lunch the next day.

You care about him, really care about him the way spouses care for each other. Maybe that’s why he thinks about marrying you despite only dating for 3 months.

He really does have a screw loose.

The dinner you left for him is gone in less than 20 minutes. He likes your cooking and he’s always been a fast eater. He finishes in the kitchen and heads to the bathroom. The clock reads 12:30 and his back aches in the cold water, but he likes it in a twisted and fucked way. The clock reads 12:40 when he’s done and just in plaid lounge pants, he joins you in bed. Your hair is free, spilling around your head on your pillow like a halo. There is a crack in the blinds and the moonlight highlights your face.

It shines on the slope of your nose, the freckles, and the small scars on your skin. You are so pretty in this gentle way - the way the petals of lilies are pretty or those fancy hard candies that are sculpted into goldfish. He wants to take care of you until he dies. He lies in bed and you wake up, eyes caught in the same milk moonlight and he wants to kiss your eyes as softly as he can.

“Kishibe…”You say his name so softly, he doesn’t remember the last time his name sounded so lovely. He scoots closer to you, you smell like lotion and softener, his knuckle caresses your cheek and your eyes flutter close. Shit, he thinks, you are beautiful.

“Hey sweetheart, dinner was good.” You smile sleepily, eyes blinking away the sleep that resides within them. Kishibe leans and kisses your cheek, mouth cold and minty from the toothpaste. His stubble itches and you wrinkle your face at the feeling. He thinks you are cute for it. He blinks, dark eyes focusing on your lovely face, the way your eyes shine in the moonlight, and how your hair fans around you. Kishibe feels choked up as if he might cry.

“Marry me,” he says instead, voice gruff and quiet. You blink at him, brows furrowing and confusion painting your pretty face. You shuffle, sitting a bit more up and looking at him like he’s grown a 2nd head. He tries not to chuckle.

“We’ve dated for 3 months - please don’t tell me you are going through a middle-life crisis.”

“No…” Kishibe starts off, dark eyes focusing on your hand - on the ring finger of your right hand and finds it irking to see it empty.

“You’re good to me. I want to take care of you - if we are married, all my shit goes to you. I’ve got some money saved up. The place would be yours too.” He lists off all the things bubbling in his head for the past 3 months of being with you. His life doesn’t have a guarantee, he could die tomorrow. He wants to be sure you stay afloat, even without him.

Your face is not something he can read - he blames it on the dark, your sleepiness, and his lack of it. His hand sneaks under your shirt, and his fingers (calloused and scarred) expertly find themselves resting at the dip of your hips. His thumbs rub at the skin there, enjoying its softness and its smoothness. You lean into him, looking at his eyes, finding sincerity and certainty. Sighing you kiss him, lips soft from vaseline and you hear him huff in contentment.

“Ask me again tomorrow. With a ring - you’ll have your answer.” You say and he nods, already knowing what ring he plans to get you. His hands pull you close, your body fitting into his and he feels at peace with you like this. You both fall asleep like that. When morning comes - his arm is still around your waist and hands at your hips. You go in earlier than him, and you depart with a heavy heart. He looks handsome in his sleep, face relaxed and thin lips parted. The neat way he parts his hair is long gone and he looks boyish with how it sticks around his forehead.

You kiss his forehead before you go out the door, a work bag filled with the leftovers he put away for lunch. The day passes by as normally as it usually does for you - you are in the paperwork department and Kishibe comes to see you for lunch when he can. When you return to your office from a copy run to start your lunch the man in question is there, sitting in your chair.

On your desk, sits a velvet box.

Kishibe smiles behind his palm when he sees the shiny, watery look in your eyes. You almost drop your copies - you really are the cutest thing he’s ever known.

“So? What’s your answer?” His gruff voice cuts in the air, and you blink back tears. Nodding wiping your eyes with the back of your free hand you warble out -

“Yeah - yeah you crazy old man. I’ll marry you.” He huffs amused, victory dancing in his heart.

#lamb.writes #kishibe x reader #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #a little something in between kinktober

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mrsackermannx · 1 year

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BAD DREAMS .ೃ࿐

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Geto Suguru

Summary: Gojo knows he shouldn’t. But when he wakes up calling out his name he can’t resist—he needs him.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings/Tags: Smut, Degradation, Rougher Sex, Face-fucking, Multiple Positions, Switch Dynamics, Mirror Sex, Feelings, Hurt/Angst, Emotional/Comfort (this is them in their early 20’s), Not Beta Read, little OOC (wrote this for some fun).

Author’s Note: I’ve never written character x character much but I got inspired and wrote this for my angels. I love the headcanon that they saw each other secretly as the years went by.

Satosugu playlist here

Gojo Satoru’s apartment is sort of like you’d expect, endlessly and stupidly lavish but extremely cold and maybe a little empty.

One might wander through it and see that its very interior was still waiting for someone to come home, much like the penthouse’s owner.

The kitchen is modern and sleek, it all blends together cohesively, lights that turn on just by sensing movement. But it’s awfully large to cook in alone, it’s large enough you could envision one lover sat upon the counter with their legs swinging back and forth, whilst the other was clad in a novelty apron and stood at the stove.

A stupid one that said “kiss the chef” or something, Gojo always wanted to get Geto one of those when they moved in together one day. But it never happened.

Shoko brought him a bunch of ornate glass jars to store his candy, decoratively. But all those pretty jars lined up on the counter like that, in some kind of defensive line. They simply seemed to remind Gojo that there was no one to scold him for eating too much of it and not a real home cooked meal.

No wonder Megumi couldn’t cook, he clearly couldn’t either.

The large l-shaped sofa was so comfy Gojo slept on it more than his own bed, every corner of it was swimming in blankets and pillows. That way he doesn’t have to feel the empty space between him and the soft plump grey cushion. He doesn’t have to remember the chest he should have his cheek pressed against when he’s watching movies on the flat screen—alone.

Geto told him once that he hated the couch he had back home. Gojo wanted to give him all the space to breathe and be, he wanted their long legs to intertwine and enjoy the expanses of plush cushion together.

One time he even drunkenly said he’d have rather sat on milk crates, rather than his shoulders jutting into his fathers, or his mothers while he sat. He was always tall and broad, feeling like he took up too much space. He always wanted his own space although his room at Jujutsu High with Gojo felt like heaven on earth. They slotted their beds together most nights.

The bathroom was probably the worst reminder. The shower itself was a room. Geto loved spending time just letting the water cascade down his back. Making that beautiful black hair of his heavy with water as the steam that rose danced before his spine and kissed the muscles of his back.

The bath was large too, circular and deep enough for four people let alone two. It overlooked Tokyo, perfect for the placing of candles just beside it. Dark and slick and romantic.

The bedroom featured a king sized bed in which the tall white haired sorcerer slept alone.

But if the walls could speak, they’d reveal that the apartment and the owner were indeed waiting for a special someone to come home, but not in a final sense. In a sense that meant they were never finished with each other, that the bathtub had housed them both many a night, that sometimes Gojo clung to Geto as he used the stove. That most of the time they never made it to the bed, that the sofa really did do just fine.

It hadn’t even been a month, but the entire penthouse was waiting with bated breath. Tokyo’s landscape waited for the two lovers to feast their eyes upon it as they pinned one another against the glass, and as they watched at the lights of Shibuya with half-lidded eyes after, bodies entwined in the tub.

Gojo was waiting, whether he knew it or not.

He clutched his pillow so tight the cotton burned the tips of his fingers, as he did everything to catch up to the person who was slipping from his fingers in his mind. “Suguru, don't! Please, just—don't leave me, you promised me,” he blurted out, his voice small.

It was always the same rotten dream, though it was because these feelings never went away. The emptiness never ceased, Gojo put black holes through curses without even blinking, whilst the black hole where his heart used to be enabled him to be as apathetic as was socially acceptable.

Not that this applied to his beloved students, or even Nanami, either and especially not his first love. If anything it applied the most to himself.

He tried to run but his legs were captured by low-level curses, they wound around his calves until the blood there ceased to flow. Until he fell and his teeth took the blow as they crashed into the concrete. He could make out wisps of long black hair, the familiar shuffle of Geto’s walk, the way his fists bunched at his sides. They bunched like that that day too.

Gojo always teased him about it when they were teenagers, it always ended up with Geto setting of Jujutsu High’s barrier with his cursed energy. Years later it also ended with Gojo pinning Geto to his bed, his smirk ghosting Geto’s lips. “Don't hide anything from me, Suguru. You don't need to—ever.”

He jolted out of his nightmare so quickly he instinctively shot out his arms to clutch the one person who could comfort him. But he wasn't there.

Instead he clutched the pillow to his chest, wincing at the familiar roughness of the cotton. Geto always told him to switch to silk, his hair would stop sticking up so much, he told him.

He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing down the strands and stroking his undercut just like Geto used to. “This—again.” He exhaled deeply, “No one knows about this but you,” he spoke softly to the darkness.

“No one knows about us either.”

He caved in minutes. The false bottom of his nightstand drawer clattering as he groggily searched for the second phone he kept there. He held his breath as he turned it on and dialled the one and only contact.

It only needed to ring twice before the silky voice that crackled through the receiver sent shivers down his spine. He imagined this was what it felt like to call home, until Geto he never knew.

“Dreamt of me, didn’t you, Satoru?”

He squeezed the deflated pillow in his lap. Geto always made his name sound like something so holy and special. He sighed in defeat, "Just—come."

“Okay. But first, you’re gonna tell me the part of me you’re craving the most?'

Following his obnoxious huff he opened his mouth to speak but Geto knew better, “No, no pointless ranting about the semantics. You know what I mean, don't you? You called me which means you want me, right now."

Gojo doesn’t bite his tongue like this with anyone else, instead he carefully nods in the dark. “That much is obvious, Suguru.”

Suguru swallowed at the suggestive lilt that overtook Gojo’s voice, his teeth burying into his lower lip. He inhaled so deeply it sounded like he was biting back a moan. Gojo grew hard in seconds.

“So, my mind? My body? My soul? My touch?”

Gojo pinched the bridge of his nose, phone tucked between his shoulder as he gazed at the city before his window. “I didn't call for a philosophical conversation. I called to fuck, Suguru,” he bit, snappy as his cock throbbed in his baggy sweats.

Geto clicked his tongue, “You still can't get off without me, huh?" He chuckled, a little mirthless. “Can’t, can you?”

He didn't need reminding.

“You…you know I can't,” he hissed.

Geto’s eyes flickered shut, his head reclined against his pillow, imagining Gojo on his cock, perfect like he always was. He couldn't fuck anyone else, either. They were both cursed.

“Suguru?”

“Mm, yeah. I’m coming, okay." His voice was impossibly soft. Sending a lovesick herd of butterflies to attack Gojo’s usually composed stomach. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat. “I won’t.”

He laughed, his voice sweeter than sugar. “I know you won’t, I’ll see you soon, okay?"

Gojo tsked at the fact he could hear Geto smiling, he didn't even need to see it. “Okay.”

He showered, and then turned the lights down through the apartment so they wouldn’t be in complete darkness. Like they were a normal couple and not two lovers sneaking around behind closed doors. Just like in the beginning of all of this when they were too afraid to even touch each other again.

It feels like hours pass as he stares up at his ceiling, but it’s barely been one before Geto is knocking softly at his door.

As soon as he opens it, Geto’s presence overwhelms his own, telling Gojo all he needs to know about where the night is going.

He’s barely cocked his brow before Geto murmurs, “Yeah? I need you too, did you forget?”

He closes the door with a soft click, one large hand handling the sharp yet soft lines of Satoru’s pretty jaw. His lips work to slow Gojo down, to disarm him, to allow him to melt into his mouth like a soft centred candy.

“That's it,” Geto hums when he finally does, Gojo’s hands no longer clenched but wrapping loosely in Geto’s hair. “Let’s get you off the door, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gojo whimpers softly, letting Geto push him down onto the couch. His hands scour every part of Gojo’s chest and torso like a sculptor admiring his work.

Then he grips his waist and pulls him in, kissing him like it's the first time in forever. It leaves them both breathless. When he pulls away he smoothes away the frown on Gojo’s lips with his thumb.

“Stop thinking,” Geto pants, “You don't need to when I'm here. I’m gonna give you what you want, yeah?”

He trails his finger down Gojo’s bare chest, kissing along his throat and teasing his teeth against his pulse point until he hisses. “Just wanna appreciate what’s in front of me a little,” Geto whispers, voice pitched dangerously low.

His fingers reach Gojo’s the throbbing erection visible in his sweatpants, his breath hitches until he inevitably moans out Geto’s name, breathy and needy. Geto daintily takes his chin between two fingers, smiling against his mouth. “I’m here to give you what you clearly need.”

“Shut up," Gojo rasps, tugging off Geto’s sweater and lurching to press his lips everywhere he can reach. His eyes flutter shut when he finally makes work of tugging all of Geto’s hair loose. The long feathery hair falls around his face and cages him in, tickling his throat. Geto laughs as he tries to bat it away, but his mouth goes dry when he sees the way his cerulean eyes are shining at him.

The sensation is so familiar—so like home it makes Gojo’s eyes prickle with tears. “Suguru,” he whispers, leaning close for a kiss. Geto indulges him immediately, their arms wrapping around each other, impossibly tight. “I wanted to see you,” he mewls.

Geto bucks his hips against Gojo’s experimentally, rutting his erection against Gojo’s until they break their kiss and Gojo’s tugging down both of their waistbands. He grins at the sight as he makes work of their pants.

“What am I gonna do with you, huh? Not even a month and you’re this desperate.”

Gojo laughs, deep and elated. High on whatever Suguru’s saliva is made of. “Don’t act like you’ve ever ignored my call, Sugu,” he coos, grinning.

Geto quickly closes the space, sliding his thumb into Gojo’s mouth. Shifting his hair to kiss his temple when he sucks obediently. “I won't, because I know I can't, Satoru.”

Gojo grins, continuing to tug away the clothing obstructing the access they want to each other the most. Geto cups his cheek as he does so, his eyes are tender but his voice is laid bare, filled with thick unfiltered lust. “Face of an angel, mouth of a I don't even know what…unfair is what it is,” he whispers.

“Unfair that I can't get enough of you, Satoru. No matter how much I try.” He sighs, “I was about to call you myself, tonight.”

Gojo smirks, throwing aside their remaining clothing. “Liar.”

He switches their positions, and makes his way down Geto’s centre, kissing and licking without breaking from his eyes. “I’ll teach you something, about lying to me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go on then pretty thing,” Geto coos, watching Gojo’s cheeks flush violently at his words.

“Don’t act like I can’t take you, I am stronger, y’know.” He kisses and nips until Geto’s hands finally lay to rest at the nape of his neck.

“I know you can take me. I’ve seen it. Not that it ever gets old. So give in and do what you’re dying to do.”

Gojo blushes even more ferociously, gripping the thick base of him. His tongue eagerly catches the sweet beads of arousal racing along the veins. Geto’s cock was so long and thick that only

Gojo’s large hands managed to dwarf it.

He worked on him, carefully, licking and sucking and kissing on his cock, Geto cooed praises to him when he finally took him in his mouth. Gojo always managed to take his entire length, he was the best after all.

“Fuck Satoru, let me fuck you—dying to fuck you. Don’t let me cum!” He moaned, pulling Gojo’s mouth off his cock and delighting in the lewd strings of arousal and spit that broke and shone against his chin.

“Already?”

“Satoru, you have no idea how fucking hot you look sucking me like that, it’s dangerous,” he purred, tugging him close. “You take it all like the good boy you really are.”

You’re nothing like me.

Gojo nodded, completely entranced and holding onto every word. Caging Geto below him with a lazy smile on his lips. This brief window was always so dangerous, the moment when Satoru’s eyes were glassy and half-lidded from arousal.

Their laughs rang through the apartment as they tripped over each other scrambling to Gojo’s bedroom. Grabbing for lube whilst their tongues practically probed the back of the others throats.

It’s a quick working and arranging of their bodies, learnt and done so many times before.

It’s almost primal. The way Geto grunts, and Gojo moans just seconds behind, hips pulled up and arched impossibly. Geto’s large handprints leave indelible marks as he pumps his thick fingers in and out until Gojo’s whimpering incomprehensible nonsense.

“Sugu, I’m ready, just fuckin~now, need it. Fuck me.”

Geto tilts his face just to press a fond kiss to his forehead, pushing the hair out of his eyes just so he can enjoy every inch of his face. “I’m so lucky to get you like this, don’t think I don't know it.”

He presses another kiss to his cheek and he moans this time, simultaneously pressing the tip of himself at his entrance. “Make it up to me by fucking me,” Gojo chuckles, soon groaning at the stretch.

“God—fuck, you feel so good,” he drawls, turning to kiss Geto himself.

“Does it hurt?” Geto stammers, his voice too shaky to even speak.

“No!”

Geto starts to move, rolling his hips as he sets a steady pace. “Y’know why? Because I’d never hurt you, Satoru.”

“Don’t,” he moans back, fists twisting the sheets under him as drool pools down the corners of his mouth. “Don’t, Sugu.”

“Y’know why?” He kisses his nape, fucking him even harder, his tip nudging that spot deliciously.

“Stop, Sugu,” he whimpers.

He drives himself deeper, gripping Gojo’s waist so much harder that he growls, “Stop this?”

“No, but, don’t.”

“I won’t, because I—I love you.”

It’s magical how Gojo comes all over the sheets from the words. Just like that.

Geto stops, his cheeks burning so badly he hides his face with the back of his hand. Gojo shoves his face into his pillow, refusing to meet his eyes.

He grins at the red tips of Gojo’s ears, grinding his hips against his until he moans once more. Passionate and loving. “That's what you needed to hear to feel good, Satoru? That I love you, because I do. I really do, you feel that, yeah?”

Gojo’s incapable of words, he can't think. He can’t even talk when Geto is fucking him like this.

Geto moans, his lips against the shell of Gojo’s air as he threads their hands together. “I've always loved you, no one loves you like I do.”

“No one ever has,” Gojo hisses. “But you, but you…”

You just had to betray me.

“Next time m’ gonna fuck you till you cry for what you just—did!”

Geto grips the base of Gojo’s cock, jerking as he fills him impossibly full, until he touches the spot again that has tears of pleasure streaming down Gojo’s cheeks.

“Who’s crying now?”

He suddenly pulls out, missing the garbled sounds of his white-haired lover he tugs him, manhandling him until he’s pliant and on his lap like a tamed cat. “Watch yourself, or me. Watch me make the strongest crumble, give yourself to me Satoru.”

“I already give you everything,” Gojo groans, his hips quickly meeting Geto’s thrusts.

“Give yourself to me until there's nothing left.”

Gojo doesn't even recognise himself, so he hides his erotic expressions in Geto’s neck, kissing and biting as Geto thrusts inside him until he’s shooting his cum all over the mirror this time.

Geto’s hands just look so perfectly placed when they’re tightened on his waist and pulling him off and on his cock like this.

“Let it out, let it out. You’ve always been insatiable huh? How much more do you have in you? I know I could fuck you all night and you’d still want more.”

“I fucking hate you,” Gojo groans, repositioning them both so he can ride him. Geto moans as he watches Gojo eagerly stuff him back inside in their reflection.

“So you think you can face me?” Geto grins, cupping the backs of his thighs and fucking him even harder. Gojo can't even keep his eyes open, his lips parted, his cheeks no longer pink but instead replaced with an aggressive red.

“No one takes me like you, Satoru. Always so fucking good for me, so perfect. You were made for me.”

We were made for each other.

Gojo fights back his moans until he can’t, not when Geto is saying all of the things that make him tick. “I was,” he whines back. “Wasn’t I?”

“You feel so fuckin good on my cock, no one feels like you, fuuck.” His voice cracks, his teeth drawing blood from his lower lip. “I’m gonna cum in you, fuck!”

“Sugu!”

“Toru! My, my, my—love.” He shakes, groaning with his lips messily clashing with Gojo’s as he fills him deep.

Gojo whimpers into the corner of his mouth, the pet name making his entire body burn. “My love, my one and only. Satoru I wish, I wish…”

He’s breathless and spent but he’s pinning Gojo down again. Pushing him until his back meets his pillows as he slides in again. “I love you, Satoru. Tell me. Tell me you love me too.”

Gojo’s eyes well up, his teeth gritting as Geto fucks them both into overstimulation. “I won’t, I won't, don't you dare. Can’t ask me that.”

“No,” Geto leans in until their noses are touching,

his hair caging Gojo in, luring him under his siren-like spell.

“Tell me, you used to tell me all the time.”

“I used to say a lot of things.” Gojo moans, kissing him fiercely. “But I won’t say that, Sugu.”

“Then I’ll never see you again.”

He yanks Gojo upright until he’s straddling him once more, gripping his hips in place and pounding into him until he falls wordlessly into his chest. Clawing and moaning from the overload of pleasure. “Fuck you, saying that shit,” he groans. “And then fucking me like this.”

“You like to be fucked like this, you fucking slut.”

Gojo silences his obscene sounds into Geto’s shoulder. Moaning even more when Geto chuckles at how much of a mess he’s become.

“Give and take, we’ve always been give and take. You can fuck me like this next time, I’ll be anything and everything for you whenever you want. Just say it.”

“I can’t!”

Gojo can’t take this anymore, it’s too much, it all feels too good. He overpowers Geto with little effort, but Geto lets him do it anyway.

He shoves him onto the floor, and grips his cock, his smirk mischievous when Geto readies his tongue for it. He lets him slap it against his mouth before he finally takes it. Grinning around his cock as he takes the entire length of it.

“There’s the real Suguru, the exemplary student. The good boy who’s about to shut up and suck me.”

Despite his harsh tone he cups Geto’s face, ignoring the way his chest is heaving and still clawing for breath. No one makes his heart beat like this. He hates how he finds his heart going into a frenzy at anyone with long black hair until he realises it's not his precious Suguru. Not that he'd even tell him that.

“You always did look better with my cock down your throat.”

Geto hums amusedly, choking on Gojo’s cock as he does so.

“I know you love it too, helps you remember your place, doesn’t it? Thats it, fuck!”

He grips Geto’s hair with abandon, fucking his face until ropes of his come spurt down his throat. “Take it all, had to shut you the fuck up, l hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

As soon as his breaths calm, Geto pins the cocky man below him once more. He has other plans. He straddles his chest, thumb running across his lip. He’s breathless too, voice spent from being fucked so mercilessly.

“Could have tapped out,” Gojo speaks softly, that raptured submission returning as he gazes in awe at the beautiful man above him.

He coughs before he speaks, “I’d never do that, but you are going to pay for it. This pretty face will, anyway.” He slaps his cheek gently before he starts to jerk himself above his face.

Gojo tries to feign frustration but he's turned on beyond belief, cock hard again. It’s so filthy, but it always was, they only ever did this when they were drunk or so horny for each other it turned them into animals.

Geto always touched himself so beautifully, so erotically.

“Because I love seeing your perfect fucking face, painted with my cum. Makes you remember your place.”

Gojo’s hands smoothed along his thighs, in wordless appreciation for the beauty before him.

“That the only man to do this will only ever be me, your one and only, yeah?”

His breath stutters as his orgasm approaches. Gojo finally nods, mouthing a feeble ‘I love you’ before offering his tongue. He groans as Geto’s come practically drowns him and soaks his tongue.

Gojo tries to swallow every drop, but before he knows it Geto’s dragging him toward the damned mirror again. He attempts to fight his grasp for a matter of seconds but he gives up, he doesn't care anymore.

“The fucking strongest belongs to me. The only one that can handle you—is me. Look at yourself.”

He knows he's right even if he hates it.

“You see us? We’re yin, and yang. Me and you, we’re perfect together,” Geto pants, shifting the hair from Gojo’s eyes as if to emphasise his point, his own hair falling over Gojo’s shoulders.

The city lights shine through Gojo’s white hair, and over Geto’s illuminating the thick black silk falling over his shoulders

“You’re mine, Satoru, and I love you. I will forever.”

Gojo cocks his brow but he leans closer, “You’re so vocal today, the good sex got you this sentimental.” He sighs, his grin full of play. “Might have to kick you out man.”

They find themselves wrestling until Geto is kissing Gojo’s forehead once more, his arms pinned and a stupid lovesick grin on his face.

“Listen, okay? I told you, I was about to call you too tonight. I missed you.”

Gojo laughs softly, leaning up to press a kiss to Geto’s cheek before speaking into his ear, “God, you’re embarrassing, aren’t ya?”

Geto glares at him before giving in. He pulls Gojo against his chest, grinning when he doesn’t resist. He curls around him like a cat, and Geto wraps them into a cocoon of blankets.

Gojo falls asleep, fast. White lashes fluttering ever so often, lulled by the warmth and safety of Geto’s embrace. “Please don’t leave me,” he mutters, twitching in some kind of bad dream.

Geto leans and kisses his nose, reaching for his phone to send a text home.

Won’t be home for a few days. Only call if it’s an emergency.

“I wish I didnt ever have to, my love.” he nuzzles himself into Gojo’s neck and kisses, sucking until he whines in his sleep. He grins against the mark that flushes in its wake and he squeezes him that little bit tighter until Gojo can't help but whimper softly, even in his deep sleep.

And then finally, he mutters the words. “Suguruu? Finally,” his mouth forms a little smile, “welcome home…I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#satosugu #gojo x geto #gojo x geto one shot #gojo satoru x geto suguru #satosugu one shot #satosugu smut #inspired by the headcanon that they saw each other secretly as the years went by #i just love them so much <3 #mdni banner: @fic dumpster <3

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soft-pxachy · 21 days

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⤷ ❝oh, god❞ — ksj (s.m)

➤ Pareja: jin!sacerdote x lectora!fem

➤ Recuento de palabras: 7.9k

➤ Género: sexo en una iglesia! smut y obscenidad!

➤ Resumen: Tu imperturbable devoción a la iglesia nunca había sido algo que realmente te importara, y sabias que no debías estar haciendo esto, sabias que estaba mal, pero no podías hacer nada desde el momento en que el Padre Seokjin entró en tu mente, haciéndote fantasear con él todas las noches, arrastrándote a un estado en el que sabias que estabas condenada, por suerte, el Padre Seokjin estaba dispuesto a perdonar todos tus pecados.

♥︎ softpxachy's

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Era otro domingo de congregación como cualquier otro, T/n estaba sentada en una esquina del banco de la iglesia lo más cerca posible del atril que se elevaba imponente frente a todos, con los brazos cruzados y completamente desinteresada en lo que pasaba a su alrededor, toda su atención estaba cien por ciento enfocada en el Padre Seokjin.

Siempre se negaba a participar mientras el Padre Seokjin dirigía la congregación a través de oraciones y anuncios. Su suave voz reverberaba a través de toda la habitación, cautivando a los asistentes del domingo por la mañana con sus palabras de adoración, predicando sobre la divinidad del amor y de Dios.

Se podía ver fácilmente cuánto había tocado los corazones de los creyentes con sus palabras y actos bondadosos con solo mirar alrededor de la iglesia.

Sus ojos seguían cada movimiento del Padre Seokjin, suspirando cada vez que mostraba una sonrisa encantadora, riéndose cuando hacía una o dos bromas ligeras. Si no supiera nada mejor, pensaría y estaría completamente segura de que las personas que iban a la iglesia estaban allí solo para ver al Padre Seokjin. Prácticamente había hecho que todo el pueblo se enamorara de él. El sacerdote encantador y de buen corazón que era un símbolo de la devoción del pueblo y era una luz cálida y brillante para aquellos que buscaban su providencia.

El Padre Seokjin hablaba y todos escuchaban. Bueno, todos menos T/n.

Sus sermones parecían entrarle por un oído y salir por el otro, y en su lugar, optaba por soñar despierta. Sus ojos nunca deambulaban por el interior de la iglesia, siempre estaban enfocados en la mirada suave y persistente del padre Seokjin. Y esto no había pasado desapercibido para él, por supuesto.

T/n era la chica que asistía a sus misas todos los domingos pero que solo estaba allí; sentada entre la multitud, el mismo asiento todas las mañanas, interactuando con la menor cantidad de personas posible, siempre la primera en entrar y la última en salir. Y había llamado su atención por completo, cada vez más intrigado por ella y por la forma en que parecía querer arrancarle la sotana con los ojos, deseando poder saber que pasaba por su cabecita para ser tan persistente y dispuesta en cualquier cosa que tuviera que ver con la Iglesia, y ahora era él quien estaba completamente cautivado por ella,

La comunión era la parte favorita de la misa para T/n. Eso significaba que era casi la hora de irse y formó un pequeño puchero dándose cuenta de que ahora tendría que esperar hasta la próxima semana para volver a ver al Padre Seokjin, pero aun así se puso de pie y caminó hacia la fila para recibir la hostia, y mientras esperaba, no pudo evitar mirar el hermoso arte pintado en el techo de la iglesia y las estatuas de santos que la rodeaban a cada paso que seguía avanzando hasta que finalmente estuvo frente a frente con el Padre Seokjin.

Él le sonrió cálidamente y con ternura en sus ojos mientras la veía hincarse frente a él sobre el reclinatorio, esperando pacientemente a que ella lo mirara y sonriendo aún más al ver el destello de timidez que brilló en su rostro mientras parpadeaba a través de sus pestañas cuando finalmente elevó su mirada hacia él. Su imponente estatura fácilmente hacía sentir a T/n como si estuviera mirando a Dios mismo.

— El cuerpo de Cristo.— Anunció con su voz suave y amable mientras le ofrecía la hostia.

Los labios de T/n se cerraron alrededor del pan sin dejar de mirarlo a los ojos, sus labios rozaron de forma cálida y suave contra los dedos del Padre quien inclinó la cabeza levemente hacia un lado con diversión y una pequeña sonrisita tiró de la comisura de sus labios hacia arriba, había sido una acción pequeña e imperceptible que debió haber sido la primera bandera roja de que el Padre Seokjin no era en absoluto quien parecía ser, y tal vez T/n había sido demasiado ingenua por no darse cuenta.

— Amén.— T/n respondió por lo bajo mirándolo con pura adoración en sus ojos, odiando profundamente tener que alejarse de su presencia.

Pero simplemente obedeció cuando el clérigo hizo un pequeño asentimiento para que se levantara y regresara a su asiento, el Padre Seokjin aun podía sentir la sensación de sus suaves labios en la punta de sus dedos mientras le daba un rápido vistazo desde lejos, y tenía que admitir que sintió como si lo hubiera besado un ángel.

Y el pensamiento de T/n no abandonó su mente durante el resto de la misa, estando completamente seguro que tal vez ella era una especie de tentación divina puesta deliberadamente frente a él como si se tratara de una prueba de Dios o como si fuera un desafío en su camino. Una cosita curiosa e inocente que el Padre Seokjin amaría ver caer y derrumbarse frente a él solo para poder reclamarla como suya.

Para él, T/n era como un pequeño cordero tembloroso, completamente ajena al lobo que la acechaba. Quizás hoy era el momento perfecto para atacar. Tal vez la presa ya estaba lista para ser capturada.

"Todavía no." El Padre Seokjin pensó para sí mismo.

Había decidido que se tomaría su tiempo, continuaría observándola desde lejos como siempre lo había hecho y planear cuidadosamente su siguiente paso antes de finalmente morder la manzana del pecado que era esa jovencita de ojos de muñeca y labios rosados que atormentaban sus noches más solitarias y más pecaminosas.

Él jugaría con su desinterés en la iglesia justo como ella lo hacía con sus pensamientos lujuriosos, después de todo, tenía que haber una razón que la estaban atrayendo a la iglesia, a él, y para ser alguien supuestamente irreverente, T/n estaba mostrando una gran devoción hacia cualquier cosa que estuviera planeando, pero el Padre Seokjin lo solucionaría, solo era cuestión de…

—¿Padre? —T/n lo llamó suavemente y su voz interrumpió sus pensamientos por completo.

—Vaya, ¿Todavía estás aquí, paloma mía? — El Padre preguntó, mirando alrededor de la iglesia, notando que ahora estaba vacía y solo eran ellos dos quienes seguían ahí.

—Quería hacerle una pregunta, padre. —T/n pidió en voz baja, mientras se distanciaba levemente de él.

El Padre Seokjin le hizo un gesto para que se sentara en uno de los bancos a su lado y T/n lo hizo evitando su mirada, mordiéndose el labio inferior cuando el silencio se hizo presente entre los dos, sin saber cómo empezar exactamente.

— Bueno, por supuesto que puedes hacerme preguntas.— El Padre Seokjin aseguró dando un par de pasos cuidadosos hacia ella.— Ven, siéntate y cuéntame qué es lo que te preocupa.

—Temo que me estén corrompiendo, Padre…—T/n comenzó a hablar por lo bajo y de a poco, cuidando cada una de las palabras que le decía.— Me está comiendo por dentro, es como si se estuviera extendiendo como el fuego del infierno dentro de mi.

—Está bien.— La voz del Padre era tranquila y firme, transmitiendole un poco de seguridad con sus palabras.— Estás a salvo conmigo, puedes confiar en mí.

Y con eso el corazón del Padre Seokjin se llenó de preocupación.

—¿Corrompiendo? Oh, mi dulce paloma. ¿Es por eso que has estado tan distante recientemente? ¿Te has estado guardando todo esto para ti sola? —preguntó con voz suave acortando de a poco la distancia que los separaba sin llegar a ser muy invasivo, mucho menos cuando la vio ponerse rígida y asentir levemente con su cabeza.— Paloma mía, esta es una carga que no tienes que llevar sola. Estoy aquí para ti. No hay razón para que sientas que tienes que distanciarte cuando te sientas preocupada.

—Lo siento, padre. —T/n respondió por lo bajo, agachando su cabeza sintiéndose avergonzada.

—No hay necesidad de disculparse. —murmuró en medio de una sonrisa y elevando una de sus manos para frotar suavemente el dorso de la de T/n, viéndola suspirar y relajarse de a poco en su toque y se aclaró la garganta.— Entonces, cuéntame más sobre ésta... corrupción.

—Me condenaría, Padre… —T/n respondió con voz pequeña mordiendo su labio y sintiendo como su rostro comenzaba a arder de vergüenza.

— ¿Qué clase de sacerdote sería yo para condenar tal pureza? —Habló y su voz la tranquilizó más de lo que alguna vez hubiera pensado, era como miel para sus oídos.

El Padre Seokjin se levantó de su asiento y lentamente se dirigió hasta quedar de pie frente a ella, viéndola clavar sus ojos en el suelo, incapaz de siquiera mirarlo y él no podía entender del todo su actitud.

Había un silencio de muerte. La tensión en la iglesia de repente se hizo notar entre los dos y el Padre Seokjin se movió para pararse más cerca de ella y su sombra cayó sobre T/n como si fuera una manta con cada uno de sus pecados y, sin embargo, comenzó a sentirse más caliente que el calor del sol de ésta mañana.

—¿Has perdido el contacto con tu fe? —El Padre Seokjin habló con la voz más baja y suave que alguna vez hubiera escuchado.

T/n jugaba con sus manos en su regazo, retorciéndose bajo su profunda mirada y no respondió, estaba demasiado aturdida por la pregunta que le hizo para saber cómo responder correctamente.

—Dime, paloma. —El Padre volvió a hablar, usando dos de sus dedos para inclinar su barbilla hacia arriba y hacer que por una buena vez que lo mirara. —¿Buscas una nueva religión?

—¡N-no! No he perdido mi fe…—T/n habló finalmente en medio de un sollozo, sintiendo como todo su cuerpo comenzaba a temblar bajo su toque y su mirada. —Ésta corrupción es…diferente.

—¿Diferente? —El Padre preguntó aún más confundido, inclinándose sobre ella para mirarla a los ojos.— ¿Cómo?

—Yo… —T/n balbuceó sintiendo como su mirada la hacía sentir increíblemente pequeña frente a él.— Tengo estos deseos. Impulsos pecaminosos que vienen a mí tarde en la noche. Padre, quiero deshacerme de ellos.

Y con eso el Padre Seokjin pareció comprenderlo todo, pero trató de guardar las apariencias lo mejor que pudo, pero fue incapaz de luchar contra la sonrisa divertida que se formó en su rostro justo antes de relamerse los labios.— ¿Impulsos pecaminosos? ¿Deseos? Querida, no estás hablando de lo que creo que es... ¿verdad?

—Es vergonzoso, Padre, lo sé… —T/n murmuró por lo bajo mordiéndose el labio con fuerza y sintiendo como pequeñas lágrimas comenzaban a brotar de sus ojos.

— Shhh, no hay necesidad de avergonzarse. —El Padre Seokjin susurró de forma tranquilizadora al mismo tiempo que elevaban sus manos para acunar su rostro con cuidado; limpiando de a poco sus lágrimas.

Era como si su simple toque enviará olas de electricidad por todo su cuerpo, y T/n hizo todo lo posible para concentrarse en los tiernos ojos del Padre Seokjin mientras volvía a hablar.

—Las necesidades carnales son humanas, querida. Está en nuestra naturaleza querer ceder a esa tentación. —explicó suavemente, como si estuviera hablando con una niña pequeña mientras T/n se derretía por completo en su toque, mirándolo con ojos de cachorrito y presionando su mejilla más contra su palma. —Cuéntame más de cómo te consume esta corrupción.

—No podría, Padre… —T/n habló negando con su cabeza en medio de hipos y una que otra lágrima que aún goteaba de sus ojos antes de darle un rápido vistazo a todas las estatuas y pinturas de santos a su alrededor.— No aquí…

—Entiendo, ¿Quieres ir al confesionario? —preguntó tranquilamente colocando un mechón de su cabello detrás de su oreja justo antes de verla asentir con ilusión haciendo sonreír.— Está bien, vamos.

Y tan pronto como dijo el Padre Seokjin entrelazó su mano con la de ella guiandola por el pasillo que daba directo hacia el confesionario y que se escondía en una de las esquinas del gran salón de la Iglesia, lo suficientemente aislado del lugar para que nadie pudiera escuchar ninguna de las confesiones que los creyentes hicieran y se respetará el secreto de confesión del Padre Seokjin.

Era una especide de armario de dos espacios, hecho de la misma caoba lacada de los bancos y de tamaño solo un poco mas grande que para una persona en cada uno de ellos, una cortina de color rojo vino a lo largo de cada puerta que ayudaban a proteger la identidad de cada penitente, y tan pronto como llegaron el Padre Seokjin abrió la puerta del lado derecho, haciendole un leve movimiento para que entrara y ella lo hizo murmurando un pequeño ‘gracias’.

T/n sabía que no debería estar haciendo esto, sabía que estaba mal, incluso el mero pensamiento de confesar todos sus pensamientos pecaminosos eran suficiente para destrozar su conciencia, pero su conciencia ya estaba arruinada desde el primer momento en que hundió su mano entre sus piernas teniendo en su mente al Padre Seokjin, y sabía que eso era la mayor condena para sí misma.

Así que se obligó a quedarse quieta en el banco de madera en el que estaba sentada, tratando de asegurar sus crecientes nervios, podía escuchar los latidos de su corazón en ese pequeño espacio, al menos estaba oculta por la tenue oscuridad de la cabina, pero de alguna manera se sentía desnuda y expuesta, como si la oscuridad fuera aún más reveladora, y sabía que sus pensamientos no estaban a salvo en este silencio y oscuridad sobresalientes.

El sonido de la puerta de la otra cabina se escuchó tres veces más fuerte cuando el Padre Seokjin entrò, T/n notó su silueta oscura moverse del otro lado, sus zapatos resonaron en el piso de madera con cada paso que dio y el asiento crujió cuando se sentó, sus manos se movian nerviosamente en su regazo cuando la voz profunda del Padre se escuchó a su derecha.

—No te pongas nerviosa, paloma. Tómate tu tiempo para encontrar tus palabras. —El Padre Seokjin murmuró suavemente, intentando transmitirle toda la confianza que necesitará.

El corazón de T/n se estremeció en su pecho y se obligó a inhalar y exhalar pausadamente. Podía hacer esto. Sus labios se abrieron y las palabras cayeron familiarmente, como un hábito perpetuo.

—Bendígame Padre, porque he pecado. Esta es mi primera confesión. —comenzó a hablar apretando sus manos en puño en el borde de su falda, pensando que la verdad debería mantenerse bajo llave como lo había estado haciendo los últimos días, esa verdad con la que no debería haber jugado en primer lugar.

—Independientemente de que estés aquí solo para decir tu verdad o para desahogar su mente, estoy aquí para escuchar, paloma.— El Padre aseguró y el sonido de su voz retumbó bajo y cálida a través de la rejilla que los separaba.

Ya estaba aquí, ya no había vuelta atrás ahora.

—He tenido pensamientos impropios sobre éste… hombre, que está fuera de mi alcance. Sé que no debería tener pensamientos tan traicioneros sobre él. Pero no puedo parar. —T/n comenzó a hablar sintiendo como su voz salía temblorosa, manteniendo sus ojos enfocados en las tenues sombras de las estatuas que se reflejaban dentro de la cabina.— Yo… apenas puedo mirarlo, apenas puedo soportar estar cerca de él, porque lo deseo tanto y eso me vuelve codiciosa, ese es uno de los siete pecados capitales, ¿no? ¿Codicia? Eso es lo que soy, Padre. Lo quiero y quiero todo de él. Quiero su tiempo y sus pensamientos, y no quiero compartirlo con nadie.

Y tan pronto como su confesión salió de sus labios un silencio abrumador los inundó a ambos, un largo y agonizante silencio mientras esperaba la respuesta del Padre Seokjin quien parecía estar encontrando las palabras correctas que decir, imposible de ocultar la bruma de celos y posesividad que comenzó a crecer en su pecho después de escuchar a su pequeña paloma hablar de esa forma de otro hombre.

Detestaba el simple pensamiento de T/n tocandose pensando en otra persona y le ardía en sus entrañas, él quería ser el único hombre que estuviera en su mente, el único que la hiciera sentir bien, el único que la viera doblegarse y caer de rodillas pidiendo mas placer, quería que fuera suya, y de nadie más.

—¿Él está casado? —preguntó poco después, recordando sus palabras y con su voz más dura y áspera de lo que imagino, pero era algo que simplemente no pudo evitar.

—No, no lo está. Es... mucho peor. —T/n respondió pensando cual de las dos opciones era peor, ¿Fantasear con un hombre casado o con un hombre que comprometía su vida a Dios?

—Solo eres humano, y el humano comete errores. Ningún error es imperdonable cuando te arrepientes de tus pecados.— El Padre Seokjin instruyó con prudencia, y casi sonó como si esas palabras se las estuviera diciendo a sí mismo.

T/n negó con su cabeza ante eso, como si el hombre al otro lado pudiera verla, eso no era lo que queria escuchar de él, queria que le dijera que estaba mal, algo que le diera un incentivo para acabar con esta tortura.

—Lo hace sonar tan inocente Padre, y no es así…—hablo casi burlándose sin humor de sus palabras.

—¿Por qué no lo es? —El Padre preguntó y su tono de voz cambió por completo, enviàndole un escalofrío que recorrió el cuerpo de T/n, sonaba diferente ahora, ya no se escuchaba reservado ni distante, sonaba cálido y curioso, y la animó a seguir hablando.— Dime más.

Oh, Dios.

—Yo… —T/n balbuceó sintiendo de repente como si su garganta estuviera llena de ceniza. —Lo quiero de manera inocente, a veces. Quiero arrodillarme frente a él y adorarlo hasta que no pueda más, quiero ser buena para él y que me halague por eso. —habló con calma, dejando que su mirada se deslizara hacia el suelo, donde la luz de las velas iluminaba sus piernas. —Pero también lo quiero de otras maneras.

Podía sentir cómo sus palabras se le clavaban en la garganta una tras otra. Estaba segura que la vaga forma de su deseo era suficiente para que el Padre Seokjin supiera que estaba hablando de él, pero parecía como si el sacerdote no tuviera intenciones de detenerla, era como si la estuviera provocando con su voz, y la tensión se podía palpar en el aire, espesa, a pesar de la rejilla que los dividía y el Padre tarareó levemente.

Quería que siguiera hablando.

—Pienso en él cuando no debería, Padre. Trato de no pensar en él de esa manera, pero es tan difícil no hacerlo, siento que sabe cómo es mi alma, y me asusta, pero también me hace quererlo más… —T/n continuó hablando sintiendo como toda la sangre de su cuerpo circulaba con más rapidez, acentuándose en su rostro y entre sus piernas como ocurría todas las noches desde que conoció al Padre Seokjin.

—¿Cuándo piensas en él? —El Padre preguntó con voz áspera, y ese mismo sonido era todo lo que T/n podía escuchar, todo lo demás se había desvanecido en la oscuridad del lugar.

—Lo hago cuando los pensamientos me mantienen despierta por la noche. Cuando está oscuro y estoy sola. Me marean y me dan calor…—respondió con dificultad, sintiendo como las palabras quedaban atoradas en su garganta y como sus mejillas ardían de vergüenza ante lo siguiente que dijo. —Pienso en él cuando me toco, Padre.

Y en ese preciso momento T/n deseaba profundamente que el suelo se abriera y la tragara por completo, pero aún así no podía dejar de hablar, no ahora que parte del secreto que la atormentaba estaba a la vista, necesitaba compartirlo todo, no pensaba seguir cargando con esa culpa sola, y no le importaban las consecuencias que vendrían con eso.

—Trato de no hacerlo, sé que está mal, pero no puedo, trato de pensar en alguien sin rostro, pero no puedo sacar su rostro de mi cabeza. Su voz. Trato de pensar en alguien menos en él, pero no puedo detenerme.

Su respiración era rápida y agitada, sentía como si acabara de subir corriendo tres tramos de escaleras. Las palmas de sus manos estaban pegajosas por el sudor y como pudo las limpió en la tela de su falda sintiendo su cuerpo arder en calor, y por una fracción de segundo, se le ocurrió correr, salir corriendo de ahí al aire frío de la noche, el hecho que el Padre Seokjin no hubiera dicho ni una sola palabra acerca de su confesión la hacía sentir mucho más nerviosa, completamente segura de que él la reprendería por tener ese tipo de pensamientos, que le diría que estaba condenada al infierno por ese pecado, pero lo siguiente que escuchó la dejó congelada en su lugar.

—Hazlo.

Esa palabra del Padre Seokjin sonó como un trueno dentro de la iglesia.

—¿Qué? —preguntó incrédula, sin entender exactamente lo que dijo.

—Muéstrame. —El Padre Seokjin corrigió rápidamente antes de que se escuchara un sonido resbaladizo, como si se hubiera humedecido los labios con su lengua.— Muéstrame tu pecado.

Y ante eso lo único que T/n pudo hacer fue jadear por lo bajo, esperaba internamente la broma, la risa, que él estuviera bromeando, pero eso nunca llegó. Y en cambio, sólo hubo silencio. Por primera vez miró hacia un lado, buscando alguna señal del Padre Seokjin pero todo lo que vio a través de la rejilla fue el contorno aproximado de su perfil.

Antes de que T/n pudiera reaccionar, vergonzosamente, su cuerpo lo hizo primero, reaccionando por completo a su voz, su piel se calentó más que el mismo sol, sus pezones se irguieron debajo de su blusa y el familiar cosquilleo se acentuó entre sus piernas como si se hubiera tratado de una orden del Padre Seokjin.

Apenas y pudo murmurar un pequeño asentimiento antes de hacer exactamente lo que le había dicho, T/n podía escuchar el latido de su corazón retumbando en sus oídos y el ritmo incierto de su respiración mientras separaba de a poco sus piernas para deslizar su mano entre sus muslos.

Su estomago se contrajo abrupatmente cuando sus dedos hicieron contacto con su centro vestido y su respiración se cortó aún más al sentir la pequeña macha de humedad en sus bragas, joder, había estado sufriendo tanto por esto que ni se habia dado cuenta, pero era algo obvio, el Pade Seokjin siempre había tenido un efecto especial en ella, y lo corroboró cuando presionó ligeramente sobre su clítoris, mordiéndose el labio inferior para evitar gemir demasiado pronto y sujetandose con fuerza del borde el asiento con su mano disponible.

La culpa y la excitación se retorcían dentro de su cuerpo, una con la otra, luchando por ver cual tendría el control, sus dedos se movían tan lentamente, torturándose a sí misma y con su respiración agitándose cada vez más con cada débil movimiento sobre su clítoris, estaba demasiado metida en sus propias sensaciones que apenas y fue consciente de la misma respiración agitada del Padre Seokjin, y cuando se dio cuenta de eso T/n no pudo evitar preguntarse qué estaba haciendo en su lado de la cabina, se preguntaba dónde estaban sus manos, tal vez agarrando sus rodillas o apretando con fuerza la tela de sus pantalones, o tal vez en otra parte; subiendo por sus muslos hasta…

—Oh, Seokjin… —T/n gimió por lo bajo antes de taparse la boca con su mano libre para sofocar otro gemido, aunque fue demasiado tarde para que el Padre Seokjin lo escuchara a la perfección.

—¿Es eso lo que haces? —El Padre preguntó con su voz baja y ronca, enviándole un escalofrío de deseo al rojo vivo a T/n por su columna vertebral, casi pudiendo escuchar su sonrisita al otro lado con lo siguiente que dijo. —¿Cuando te tocas dices mi nombre, paloma?

—Padre, por favor yo no… -T/n balbuceó ahogando un nuevo gemido ante otro movimiento de sus dedos, incapaz de poder mentirle ahora.

—No mientas paloma, la forma en que dijiste mi nombre, suena tan familiar. Como si hubieras hecho esto antes. —El Padre agregó con soberbia, había una oscuridad en su voz que T/n nunca había escuchado en él.

—Oh, Dios… —Un nuevo jadeo se derritió en sus labios sin poder ocultarlo, sus caderas se movieron hacia enfrente y contra su palma, buscando desesperadamente un poco más de fricción para su clítoris necesitado, la culpa se estaba comiendo sus entrañas, pero no podía detenerse.— Padre, por favor, siento que empiezan a corromperme de nuevo…

Y con eso los ojos del Padre Seokjin se iluminaron en puro deseo, agradeciendo que ella no pudiera verlo.— ¿Ahora mismo?

—Sí, los pensamientos están volviendo, Padre… —T/n asintió con la cabeza con furia, como si él pudiera verla moviendo sus dedos con más fuerza sobre su centro ahora empapado con su humedad, mojándole los dedos vergonzosamente.

Inesperadamente se escuchó un tintineo metálico al otro lado de la cabina y a T/n se le cortó el aliento al darse cuenta. Su cinturón, el Padre Seokjin se estaba desabrochando el cinturón, mierda, mierda. Cerró los ojos con fuerza intentando alejarse de eso, pero aún podía escuchar el roce de su cinturón cuando el cuero se movió contra sus trabillas y simplemente no pudo evitar imaginarse la forma en que se veía su mano sobre el bulto de sus pantalones.

—Dime de quien se tratan, paloma. —El Padre pidió en medio de un suspiro pesado y T/n juró que su cuerpo tembló sobre el asiento al escucharlo.

—Se tratan de ti Padre, siempre has sido tu… —Admitió entrecortado presionando con más fuerza sobre su clítoris, lo necesitaba, demasiado, era casi carnal la necesidad que tenía por él.

Una especie de calor perverso le atravesó el pecho al Padre Seokjin, casi como un sentimiento de orgullo al escuchar a su pequeña paloma admitiendo que él era el que la hacía pecar, que él era el protagonista de sus fantasías como ella lo era de las suyas, era perfecto y eso le hizo apretar con más fuerza el eje de su miembro duro por encima de la tela de su boxer, casi gruñendo al imaginarse que era T/n la que estaba entre sus rodillas dándole la misma atención con su propia mano.

—¿Yo? —Él se rió entre dientes mientras la seguía escuchando sollozar y gemir por lo bajo, casi deseando poder estar con ella para ver como aliviaba el calor de su cuerpo.— No eres tan pura como yo pensaba, ¿verdad paloma?

—Por favor, Padre…— T/n gimoteó una vez más, presionando sus muslos juntos y moviendo sus caderas con fuerza contra su mano.— Por favor, ayúdame a deshacerme de estos deseos…

Y con eso el Padre Seokjin ensanchó su sonrisa, ¿Quién era él para negarle a su linda palomita que la librara de sus deseos carnales? Después de todo, ese era su deber como sacerdote, ¿no es así? Limpiar a los pecadores de sus pecados, y qué mejor manera que hacer lo mismo con ella, limpiar esos pensamientos pecaminosos de su linda cabecita y devolverle la pureza.

Hubo un silencio después de su ruego hacia el Padre que rápidamente fue cortado por un ruido repentino, demasiado rápido para que T/n lo procesara antes de parpadear ante la luz que inundó la pequeña cabina, y cuando pudo ver con claridad el Padre Seokjin estaba de pie frente a ella, su barbilla está inclinada hacia un lado, el cinturón de su pantalón colgaba pesado hacia ambos lados, la cremallera estaba abierta y una mancha oscura y húmeda decoraba el contorno de su dura erección haciéndola jadear sin ser capaz de cerrar sus piernas ante la imagen cuando el Padre Seokjin rápidamente apretó con sus manos su pantalón, levantando la tela para poder arrodillarse frente a ella.

—Padre…— T/n susurró por lo bajo, sin poder recordar ninguna palabra excepto su título mientras lo veía hundirse entre sus piernas para tomarla por el cuello con una de sus manos, su palma ancha se envolvió alrededor de su garganta antes de inclinarse hacia ella y perseguir su boca ansioso con la de él.

Sus rosados labios se estrellaron con firmeza contra los de ella, y T/n sintió como si estuviera en la puerta del cielo y jadeó contra su boca al darse cuenta de que el Padre Seokjin besaba como un hombre hambriento.

Su cuerpo cayó en un flujo intenso con sus labios unidos a los del otro, sus manos se ajustaron a sus anchos hombros y los arañó por encima de su camisa negra, desesperada por más. Toda la mente de T/n se nubló con la sensación de él, con su aroma, con su sabor, con cada presión de sus labios sobre los de ella y sintiendo como acariciaba su cuello suavemente, rozando sus dedos sobre su pulso antes de presionar con la fuerza suficiente para hacerla jadear sobre su boca y él aprovechó la oportunidad para meter su lengua en la de ella, y rápidamente sus lenguas se enredaron en una danza ardiente, sin necesidad de música, solo el ritmo recién descubierto de sus lenguas, dientes y labios.

—Seokjin… —la voz de T/n tembló mientras respiraba su nombre en una oración entrecortada contra su boca apenas separándose de él.

—Sí, cariño, estoy aquí. —El Padre respondió de la misma forma antes de volver a presionar otro beso voraz en sus labios, ajustando sus manos en su cintura para acercarla lo más posible a su cuerpo, y T/n dejó escapar un suspiro de alivio ante su entusiasmo por continuar.

—Lo siento, sé que no debería… no debería quererte así, pero…— T/n se lamentó de la misma forma ajustando sus manos en su cuello blanco y clerical, el recordatorio de que esto estaba mal, pero no pudo hacerle mucho caso a sus culpables pensamientos cuando sintió al Padre Seokjin tomar sus piernas con sus manos para ajustarlas en su cintura firmemente.

—Está bien, paloma. —Arrulló con su voz ronca volviendo a atrapar sus labios en otro beso, mordisqueando su labio inferior y escuchándola gemir desde lo más profundo de su pecho antes de tomar su mano y guiarla hacia abajo hasta dejarla sobre su entrepierna.— Sigue adelante, cariño. Sigue tocandote para mi.

Y con eso ultimo T/n ahogó otro gemido contra sus labios, volviendo a frotar sus dedos una y otra vez sobre su botón de placer, amando la fricción que se producía entre sus torsos presionados el uno con el otro y de sus respiraciones agitadas coreando el pequeño y santo espacio en el que estaban.

—Pensé que me dirias que debía dejar de pecar…— T/n se las arregló para murmurar aquello descansando su frente contra la de él, sonriendo tontamente al escucharlo reír contra sus mejillas.

—No creo que un pecador pueda decirle a otro que se detenga.— El Padre afirmó con sorna en su voz, presionando la parte inferior de su cuerpo para que estuviera al ras con la de él, situándose mejor entre sus piernas y viéndola jadear cuando su pelvis se hundió contra su entrepierna.

No había mucho espacio en la pequeña cabina, pero eso solo los acercó aún más mientras T/n le rodeaba el cuello con los brazos con fuerza; podía sentir su erección hurgando sobre su núcleo vestido, y no había nada más que quisiera que arrancar la tela que se interponía entre sus cuerpos.

El beso acalorado se estaba convirtiendo en algo más. El Padre trazó sus cálidos besos con la boca abierta por el arco de su cuello, hasta la base de tu garganta antes de darle un suave mordisco, sus labios rosados se cerraron alrededor del área, succionando y chupando su piel suavemente, haciendo que T/n exhalara un gemido estrangulado, el volumen se elevó un poco por encima de los sonidos de sus respiraciones agitadas pero tampoco les importó demasiado. Rápidamente las manos de T/n abandonaron su cuello y aflojaron los primeros botones de su blusa, invitando a la boca atenta y pecadora del Padre Seokjin a bajar un poco más, y él por supuesto que estaba más que ansioso por responder a su deseo.

Su cabeza bajó por tu cuello, tomándose el tiempo para besar minuciosamente tu piel caliente, acariciando su rostro entre tus pechos y un escalofrío recorrió el cuerpo de T/n al sentir la punta de su nariz rozar la curvatura de uno de sus senos antes de que su lengua caliente saliera para lamer su pezón endurecido a través de la delgada tela de su blusa, haciéndola gemir con fuerza y taparse la boca desesperadamente para evitar hacer más ruido.

—Dios se tomó su tiempo cuando te hizo para mi, paloma.— El Padre Seokjin murmuró sobre su pecho continuando con el implacable ataque de su lengua sobre su pezón, desviando su vista hacia arriba y hacia su rostro solo para verla con la cabeza hacia atrás contra la pared de madera y con sus labios entreabiertos, y se apresuró a elevar su otra mano para masajear su seno descuidado.

T/n sentia que podia morir feliz justo ahora, siendo torturada con sus bonitos labios y su caliente lengua una y otra vez, podía sentir como la tela de su blusa estaba empapada con su saliva por la forma en que se adhería a su piel, haciéndola jadear ante la deliciosa fricción en su sensible brote y removerse en el asiento y que sus caderas se frotaran contra su dura erección.

Y antes de pasar al otro lado, el Padre Seokjin le dio otra perversa succión a su pezón riendo por lo bajo de cómo su cuerpo se sacudió debajo de él y su voz salió ahogada en medio del beso de transición a su otro seno.

—Eres celestial, más de lo que podría haber imaginado.— Afirmó cuando su dedo encontró el tramo húmedo de tela, jugando con su sensible pezón una y otra vez, casi volviéndola loca y haciendo que ajustara sus movimientos con su cadera, prácticamente frotando su centro húmedo contra su dura erección atrapada en sus pantalones; haciéndolo ahogar un gruñido contra su seno ante la fricción.

Sus cuerpos seguían completamente vestidos, nunca antes habían estado tan excitados como ahora que su sucia fantasía se estaba haciendo realidad, la espalda de T/n se arqueó más hacia su boca, buscando su calor, rogando por mas, tenia miedo que esto fuera solo un sueño, uno más entre muchos que había tenido con el Padre Seokjin.

Sabía que ya había probado la fruta prohibida y, como un adicta, solo podía rogar por más. Sus indecentes oraciones de más se convirtieron en susurros en el momento en que escapaban de sus labios hinchados de tanto morderlos, y ni siquiera pudo mantener el volumen bajo cuando lo sintió morder con fuerza su pezón al mismo tiempo que sus manos deslizaron sus bragas por sus piernas en un rápido movimiento; el escozor de su mordida y el aire frío golpeando la piel sensible de su entrada convirtieron sus silenciosos gemidos en un grito agudo que reverberó desde el espacio confinado del confesionario hacia la extensión silenciosa y resonante de la iglesia.

Ni siquiera pudo reaccionar cuando el Padre Seokjin tomó sus piernas para colocarlas sobre sus hombros, arrodillándose por completo frente a ella y haciéndola estremecerse aún más al sentir su aliento caliente y agitado abanicar su sensible entrada.

—Eres como un ángel puesto delante de mi.— El Padre Seokjin volvió a hablar entrecortado, viéndola desde abajo morderse el labio para evitar gemir cuando deslizó uno de sus dedos entre sus pliegues resbaladizos, recogiendo su humedad solo para llevárselo a la boca y chuparlo ruidosamente; ronroneando gustoso al probar su sabor.

La vista que T/n tenia era algo completamente digno de contemplar, era algo que pensaba que nunca pasaría, pero ahora aquí estaba; viendo los ojos oscuros y cargados de placer del Padre Seokjin mientras se relamía sus labios enrojecidos por todos los besos que se habían dado, terminando de degustar los restos de su sabor justo antes de formar una sonrisita maliciosa y susurrar acaloradamente sobre su centro.

—Sabes a cielo, paloma, déjame adorarte…

Y tan pronto como dijo eso su cabeza se hundió por completo entre sus piernas y la vista de él desapareció detrás de tus párpados cuando los cerraste ante el primer contacto de sus labios sobre tu clítoris hinchado y necesitado.

Empezó despacio, perezosamente, como si tuviera todo el tiempo del mundo, la mano de T/n se movió para tomar un puño de su cabello; tirando de los suaves mechones ansiosa y desesperada cuando su lengua caliente salió para lamer y chupar entre sus pliegues una y otra vez, le gustaba demasiado esto, la sensación de que el Padre Seokjin la devoraba, succionando su pequeño clítoris cada vez más fuerte que le fue imposible no enredar sus dedos entre su cabello para guiarlo hacia arriba y abajo mientras elevaba sus caderas para encontrar su lengua, y él se dejó hacer, no había nada que hubiera deseado más que probar su sabor justo como ahora lo estaba haciendo, podía sentir que su pequeña paloma estaba punto de romperse, el agudo gemido que soltó y el temblor de sus piernas se lo hizo saber, y justo cuando estaba listo para tomar todo de su dulce orgasmo su voz lo regresó a la realidad.

—Jin, porfavor, necesito sentirte dentro de mi…— T/n rogó tan dulcemente a sus oídos que al Padre le fue imposible no obedecer sus plegarias.

Le dio unas últimas lamidas en su entrada y clítoris antes incorporarse y colocarse de nuevo entre sus piernas sintiendo como las manos de T/n volaban hacia los botones de su cuello y camisa, comenzándolos a soltar desesperadamente y él hizo lo mismo con su pantalón, apretando su mandíbula con fuerza ante la dolorosa fricción de la tela de su boxer cuando finalmente liberó su miembro; viéndolo salir disparado hacia arriba completamente duro e hinchado, tuvo que reprimir una risita al verla relamerse los labios ante la vista y se apresuró a separar aún más sus piernas, siseando cuando apoyó su miembro contra su entrada para comenzar a deslizar la punta de su pene entre sus pliegues, cubriéndola con su humedad y haciéndole saber cuán grande era y cuán profundo estaría dentro de ella.

El Padre se inclinó sobre su cuerpo, volviendo a tomarla por su cuello para encontrar sus labios una vez más, jugando con su lengua y mordisqueando su labio inferior para amortiguar su gemido cuando comenzó a empujar de a poco la punta de su pene a través de su entrada, chistando suavemente al sentir su cuerpo estremecerse mientras su interior se apretaba imponente alrededor de su duro eje.

—Es… demasiado grande…— T/n jadeó luchando por asimilarlo, y le resultó difícil formar esas palabras en su estado sin aliento sintiendo su miembro empujarse contra cada parte de ella, hambriento de más, alentando a su interior a aceptarlo más profundamente, y el Padre Seokjin gimió en tu boca, con una voz ronca y áspera.

—Puedes tomarlo, paloma…— El padre siseó ajustando sus manos en tu cintura con fuerza, ayudándote a aceptar su tamaño mientras seguía empujándose dentro, hundiéndose cada vez mas hasta la base de su pene, gruñendo cuando terminó de empujar los últimos centímetros de su longitud dentro de ella.— Joder, te sientes increíble…

Aquel gruñido poco después de tocar fondo hizo que a T/n se le cortara la respiración, la quemadura dentro de ella hizo que su cabeza se confundiera de felicidad mientras luchaba por ajustarse a su tamaño, y aunque el Padre Seokjin estuviera un tanto abrumado con la estrechez que lo rodeaba, fue lo que lo animó a comenzar a marcar un ritmo lento y constante dentro y fuera de ella, hundiendo su rostro en su cuello, volviendo a salpicar toda su piel con besos húmedos y calientes.

T/n se sentía en el cielo con cada una de sus embestidas profundas y duras, sus sueños y pensamientos pecaminosos nunca lograrían compararse a la realidad de estar siendo follada por el Padre Seokjin, todo se sentía mil veces mejor, su polla la llenaba de una forma tan deliciosa y los gemidos que goteaban como miel de sus labios la dejaban delirando por más, sus uñas se deslizaban y dejaban marcas rojizas por su pecho y hombros, el sudor que caía por sus sienes hasta su cuello lo hacían ver incluso más tentador y la hinchazón de sus labios la hacían querer volver a besarlo.

A tientas extendió una mano para sostenerse de algo, cualquier cosa, y cuando su mano agarró el crucifijo que colgaba de su cuello, tiró con fuerza de él como si fuera una correa, acercando al Padre hacia ella viéndolo lanzarle una sonrisita siniestra justo antes de besarlo con fuerza, gimiendo contra sus labios cuando sus embestidas se volvieron brutales y profundas, su pelvis chocaba contra sus caderas de una forma tan deliciosa, los sonidos húmedos y lascivos de su polla hundiéndose una y otra vez en su coño llenaban sus oídos y la dejaban delirando sintiendo como el nudo apretado de su orgasmo amenazaba con romperse en cualquier momento.

—Oh Dios, Jin estoy tan cerca…— T/n lloriqueó contra él sintiendo su aliento caliente y rápido contra la piel de su cuello, haciéndola sentir cada vez mas humeda.— Voy a correrme… —advirtió con su respiración atascada en la garganta y con los latidos de su corazón martillando en su pecho con fuerza.

—Hazlo, paloma…— El Padre gimió sin aliento acariciando su mejilla caliente y luego la comisura de su labio, deleitándose con su simple belleza en su punto máximo de placer justo antes de volver a atrapar su pecho entre sus dientes, sintiéndola removerse y arquear su espalda aún más contra su boca mientras seguía chupando y mordisqueando con fuerza su endurecido pezón una y otra vez.

En algún punto de la desastrosa mente de T/n esperaba que eso dejara marcas en su piel, entonces, podrían servirle como un recordatorio de a quién le pertenecía, la pelvis del Padre se acercó a su centro cada vez más errático y desesperado, todo su cuerpo rebota sobre su pene, el ardor en sus piernas mezclado con la fuerza de sus embestidas la estaba empujando a un punto sin retorno, al borde del límite, y fue justo ahí cuando lo sintió arrastrar una mano por su cuerpo sudoroso hasta llegar al centro de sus piernas para comenzar a frotar su botón de placer con su pulgar una y otra vez antes de ordenar entre dientes.

—Correte para mí, paloma.

Y eso fue suficiente para que su orgasmo la atravesara como si se tratara de un resplandor celestial, todo su cuerpo tembló en sus brazos sintiendo como los espasmos de placer la hacían sentirse finalmente llena y satisfecha, su interior se apretó con fuerza alrededor de su miembro, aprisionándolo dentro de ella y cubriéndolo con su orgasmo, haciéndolo murmurar su nombre una y otra vez, como si se tratara de una oración divina.

Ni siquiera pudo evitar lloriquear por lo bajo cuando el Padre Seokjin besó suavemente su frente, sus mejillas y luego sus labios para salir de a poco de su interior, toda ella se sintió de nuevo vacía y buscó la mirada del Padre cuando se puso de pie frente a ella, sus ojos recorrieron su torso desnudo y cubierto de un sudor reluciente, siguiendo hasta su miembro aun duro y pesado que la hizo suspirar, y cuando lo escuchó hablar todo su cuerpo recibió una corriente eléctrica.

—Ven aqui, paloma.— Ordenó con su voz ronca y profunda al mismo tiempo que su mano bombeaba de a poco su pene, y su mirada se oscureció aún más al ver lo rápido que T/n se arrodillo frente a él, como si hubiera querido esto desde un principio.

Sus ojitos brillantes lo saludaron desde abajo, mirándolo con total adoracion cuando enredó sus dedos en su cabello alborotado para guiar su boca hacia su pelvis, gruñendo por lo bajo cuando la calidez de su boca y lengua envolvieron la punta de su pene; primero dándole una pequeña lamida, sonriendo cuando lo vio suspirar temblorosamente antes de tomar una porción completa en su boca sin dejar de mirarlo a los ojos.

El Padre Seokjin echó su cabeza hacia atrás y sus labios se abrieron en gesto de puro placer mientras seguía sintiendo como los labios de su paloma tomaban todo de él cómo una buena niña, su respiración se cortó cuando la sintió elevar una de sus manos para envolverla en su grosor y comenzar a masajear las partes que no alcanzaba con su boca, y cuando abrió sus ojos mirando hacia abajo, la imagen fue lo mas caliente que alguna vez se llegó a imaginar, el agarre en su cabello se apretó con fuerza y su respiración se agitó sintiendo que estaba a punto de perderse, y su teoría fue cierta, porque cuando sintió a T/n lamer y chupar su uretra fue que se derramó en su boca con un audible gruñido.

Le tomó unos segundos recuperarse de todo lo que acababa de pasar, sintiendo su pecho agitado y tratando de regular su respiración acelerada, y cuando finalmente miro hacia abajo ni siquiera pudo luchar contra la sonrisa de orgullo que se formó en su rostro, viendo sus ojitos brillantes y como unas gotas de su semen escurrían de la comisura de su labio, haciéndolo elevar su pulgar para reunirlas y volver a introducirlo en su boca, riendo entre dientes al sentir como su lengua lamía su pulgar degustando las últimas gotas hasta dejarlo limpio.

—Creo que tus pecados han sido perdonados.— Dijo suavemente despues de unos segundos, el olor a sexo se mezclaba con el incienso que se filtraba desde el santuario y sonrió al notar su mirada confundida.

—Pero Padre, si mis pecados han sido perdonados, ¿Por qué sigo pensando en ti? —T/n preguntó volviendo a su actitud inocente y volviendo a usar su título después de todo lo que había pasado, viéndolo reír por lo bajo mientras se inclinaba para estar a su nivel, sus mejillas fueron aplastadas con una de sus manos antes de recibir un febril beso en sus labios.

—Bueno, quizás ahora yo soy el pecado con el que deberás cargar, paloma.

N/A: Buenoo hace calor, no? Si asi lo sientes será mejor que sigas al siguiente oneshot de este pequeño maratón pupi! Espero que este gustando mucho estas historias titis, las estaré leyendo y díganme cual está siendo su favorita. ♡ next

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