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historiaxvanserra · 5 months

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Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

Pairing: SingleDad!Rhys x Reader

Summary: After his mate and the mother of his son abandons them, The High Lord and Nyx are left alone and wanting.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: allusions to sexual assault, allusions to depression, abandonment, broken homes (y'know keeping it light, in all seriousness this is not all angst it's quite sweet actually).

The sky is painted in hues of lavender and mauve and the flowering ivory clouds shade Velaris in a perpetual state of dusk. The silvery light of the waxing moon seems to cast you in a gentle opal light as you approach the opulent manor. The High Lord’s townhouse is nestled in the heart of the city of starlight and wreathed in the colors of twilight; a slate facade that looks as though it is crowned in green, climbing ivy and night-blooming jasmine frame the large bay windows on the ground floor. From here you can see the large stained-glass window on the top floor, light refracts and it casts a myriad of dancing light onto the stone below-- dappled pinks and roses that fracture and give way to amethyst and indigo.

You spare a look to your aged companion as she breaches the threshold of the High Lord’s residence and, on unsteady feet, approaches the ornate wooden door and knocks thrice.

You remain for a moment a solitary figure at the entryway of the property, contemplating the series of events that led you here. Mother above, you chastise yourself. The thought occurs to you then, that perhaps you had made a mistake in coming here; that you should have given yourself more time, that you should have remained in the quiet solitude of the library where the world seems like a bitter memory.

“Come, girl.” Madja’s voice is tired and impatient as she beckons you closer with the wave of a crooked finger. “Don’t just stand there.”

You swallow thickly, bowing your head in obedience and you notice how her eyes soften as you approach the door tentatively.

“Nervous?” the old woman asks, you feel her eyes on you-- examining and critical.

“A little,” You admit, eyes downcast as you loose a shaky breath, “I haven’t left the library besides for training in quite some time.”

You stare down at the sleeves of your faded pewter robes as they billow in the evening breeze; the silver embroidery around the cuffs has begun to fray and the layers of fabric gather about your waist, the pleats have been poorly ironed and the heavy fabric falls over the curve of your hip haphazardly and pools to the floor in a swathe of heavy cotton. Shame pools in your stomach at the sight of your slippers as they peek out from the skirts of your robe.

It’s about time you asked Clotho for a new set of robes you think.

“You’ve met him before, no?” Madja’s voice breaks the tenuous peace you have found in those moments. You look up at her and a deep set frown graces her weathered face, “when you first came to Velaris?”

The visions fall on you like night; the Moonstone Palace saturated in onyx and jade, the reflections of your face in the marble of the throne room floor, the sentries as they dragged you before the High Council. The sounds of your screams and a sea of rubies and pearls as the bodice of your dress is torn away from your heaving chest-- all that red. Terrible and red.

Hewn City had always been cruel to you. You, a useless daughter to an ambitious man. The dreams are less vivid now but the sound of footsteps on marble still haunts you.

“Yes, it was him who brought me to Velaris-- after-afterwards,” You acquiesce to her questioning, eyes set on the light beyond the frosted glass panes of the onyx doorway, “though I doubt he remembers.”

Your avenging angel.

Madja looks at you carefully, taking account of you before she nods to you in silent acknowledgement.

The door to the High Lords townhouse opens with a flourish to reveal Morrigan. She’s more beautiful than you remember, radiant even as the dark shadows of sleep cling to her. Her golden hair hangs in loose waves over the delicate curve of her shoulder and though the deep umber of her eyes meets yours in a warm inviting stare as she utters your name.

She knows your name.

“Come on in from the cold.” she beckons you with the curve of a slender hand. You smile politely as you cross the threshold of the house. The wards fall away as you pass through into the foyer and the smell of mandarin and night blooming jasmine flood your senses.

The foyer to the townhouse is truly beautiful; a testament to the fine artistry and craftsmanship that seemed to define Velaris’ art district. The walls are paneled wood, painted in a shade of twilight that can only be found here, in The Night Court, and the burgundy carpet so rich in color that it reminds you of a blood moon, the oil paintings that hang on the walls seem to exude an air of majesty unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

In this room night reigns triumphant and you behold it all with a sense of wonder and awe. A careful deference to the love and care contained between these walls. It is a home that has been truly cherished by the people that live here.

“Did Madja tell you why you had been summoned here?” Morrigan’s voice is soft and sweet and the feeling of her hand on your robed arm pulls you from your thoughts.

“Sorry - I - uh” I stutter, glancing between her hand on my arm and the unyielding warmth of her gaze. “No she didn’t, only that there was a position in the High Lord’s household that Clotho recommended me for.”

“It was my recommendation actually,” Morrigan smiles proudly, letting her hand drop to her side idly. “Clotho just happened to agree.” The words leave her lips with the ghost of a smirk as she recalls the conversation between her and the High Priestess.

The last time you had spoken to Morrigan would have been in Hewn City, all those years ago. You abandon yourself to those days; when you had been the cursed daughter of a capricious Lord. The girl you were died under that mountain. The woman that stands in her place had been forged of blood, and splintered bone-- made strong by violence and tempered by time.

You nod solemnly and cast a glance to Madja who watches on in quiet curiosity.

“Rhys is upstairs,” Morrigan says softly to you both, gesturing up the staircase to the upper level of the house, “I’ll fetch him down”.

You notice then how troubled Mor looks. The rings around her eyes are pale purple and blue and her skin, once radiant, has become pale and sallow. She begins her ascent up the stairs with a small wave of her hand signaling Madja to follow. From here you can see a singular light that pierces through the blanket of the dark that shrouds the upper levels of the house.

Mor regards you once more as Madja passes her on the stairs and points towards the ornate door that leads to the antechamber at the heart of the house. “Go on in, we won’t be a moment.” In a flourish of golden blonde hair and crimson Morrigan winnows away and leaves you to linger in the foyer for a quiet moment.

The smell of cherries and marigold shades the air in her absence.

Voices, disembodied and distant from the upper levels of the house draw you into the heart of the house.

The antechamber of the High Lords townhouse is a beautiful living room, plunged into near darkness spare the slivers of jade light that dapple the dark walls from the emerald chandelier, even in the darkness you can make out the dark marble of the hearth that is draped with moonflowers and ivy. The low backed chairs are elegant and worn from use and there are books strewn about the room and a small library contained neatly in the alcove.

Your eyes find the painting hung above the hearth; immortalized on oil and canvas the High Lord of Night and his Lady. The High Lord is painted in a deep navy tunic and the silver paint mimics the delicate embroidery favored by the Velarian tailors in The Rainbow. His violet eyes shine bright against the dark.

He is a thing of dark beauty, you think.

In this light, his High Lady looks as though she is wreathed in starlight as smiles down on the antechamber from her place above the hearth. You observe the pointed curve of her nose and the upturn of her cerulean eyes and something aching and jealous festers in you at the sight of her beauty.

Otherworldly and ethereal.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The low tenor of a man calls out from the darkness of the room, the voice is measured and devoid of any emotion as it permeates the dark. The male cuts an intimidating figure in the low light and all thought and sound eddies from your mind. You’re sure the sound of your heart like an echoing war drum is loud enough to shake the mountains as he takes a step towards you.

“High Lord?” you question. He steps further into the light and you regard him pensively; his skin is pallid and his eyes are ringed with dark circles of amethyst that trouble you. His onyx hair is left tousled and the ends have grown long enough to curl away from the harsh lines of his face. The sharp junction of his jaw has become obscured by the smatterings of coarse, black hair that grow there.

Even still, even in the unforgiving jade light, he is the most beautiful male you have ever seen. He smells of night blooming jasmine and violets undercut with something inherently masculine. Pine and whiskey perhaps.

His presence is something truly captivating; dark and intoxicating. When he looks at you there is only dark in those violet eyes.

The High Lord sinks into the worn armchair by the hearth with a deep sigh and for a moment he allows his eyes to flutter closed as he breathes deeply and all you can do is surrender yourself to that dark magnetism. The dying fire in the hearth warms him and in this light you notice the golden hues of his skin and the dark inky trails tattooed across the planes of his chest where his shirt opens.

“You’re staring--” The High Lord’s violet eyes falls onto you. In those liminal spaces between the seconds, when he is looking at you, all ceases to be. You tilt your chin downwards, hoping to avert his gaze, as you offer him a courteous bow.

“My apologies High L-” the apology is cut off by the High Lords gentle protests. None of that, Love.

You pray to the mother that he doesn’t notice the flush along the tops of your cheeks or the wild fluttering of your heart at the pet name.

“Sit down,” The High Lord gestures simply to the seat across from him by the hearth and his whole demeanor is somehow softer when you deign to look at him again. Wordlessly you comply with his request, a careful hand runs down the length of your robes to smooth out the lazy pleats in the skirt as they fan out around you in the low backed chair and while you don’t dare to meet his eyes directly you can feel him looking at you.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes though his voice is distant, despondent even and his eyes find the painting that looms over the hearth. “The portrait-- It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He muses, tipping the rim of his whiskey glass towards the portrait.

“Very beautiful, High Lord.” you agree, smoothing the heavy material of your robes again. He watches you then with a curious glint in his eyes and he takes a few moments to assess you.

“Just Rhysand will do,” He smiles lightly, though there's a sense of apprehension as he regards you playing with the threads of your sleeves for the third time in so many moments, “there’s no need for such formalities when it’s just the two of us.”

“No of course not,” You agree and look at him through thick lashes and offer him a small smile in return, “forgive me, I’m--” you extend a hand to him over the small end table between the arm chairs and he takes it in earnest shaking it lightly. A calloused pad of his thumb rubs an absentminded circle into the skin of your hand before he brings your hand, trembling and slender, to the sulk of his lips and places a chaste kiss against the knuckles.

“I know who you are, Priestess,” he says lightly-- playfully. You offer him a polite laugh in return and nod your head again.

Something dark burns in his eyes in those moments; silver and violet. Like the darkness between the stars. He smiles to himself then, a soft beautiful thing. A secret shared between him and the dying light in the hearth as he picks at an errant threat on the stitching of his shirt.

“Why am I here, Rhysand?” You ask, inhaling deeply, hoping that his answer might assuage the anxiety that has been coiling in your stomach all afternoon. The door to the antechamber opens then and light, golden and radiant spills into the room all at once. The radiant light reveals the room to you fully, you observe the emerald velvet chairs and the dark wood furnishings, the landscapes hung on the walls and the rare manuscripts and novels bound all in black that line the walls.

This house is something truly breathtaking.

It feels like a home you realize.

“There you are!” Morrigan's velvet voice smothers the morose tension in the room as she comes into view. She’s since shed the tiredness that plagued her before and you notice the way her hair frames her face like a halo of gold in the soft ochre light. In her arms, swaddled in sapphire spider silk, is the High Lord’s son.

“We were beginning to wonder where you had gone.” Mor coos at the bundle in her arms as she approaches Rhysand who takes the babe in his strong arms.

As if he could get any more beautiful-- the man looks as though he was carved by The Mother.

It’s wrong, you know. He is your High Lord and you are…

The cursed daughter of a capricious Lord, you remind yourself.

Rhysand glances at me hesitantly and I meet his eyes briefly before focusing on the babe in his arms. He’s since broken loose from the swaddling and his chubby fist clutches at his fathers shirt. I can just see the top of his little head, it's all tufts of curly blue-black hair and pointed pink ears. You smile fondly to yourself as he continues to wriggle in his father’s grasp.

Gods, it’s been so long since you had smiled that wide without the feeling of guilt that usually attends it.

“You used to be a governess, didn’t you?” Mor says by way of explanation for your summons. To her credit her smile never falters even as your demeanor hardens against her, “Clotho said you had talked about it a few times.”

“Yes. I was,” You admit swallowing thickly, your voice comes out strained like the words themselves pain you to speak, “that was a long time ago though.”

That had been long before him.

You must have only been a youngling yourself. You had been happy-- that much you remember. Those were the happy recollections of your old life; summers spent under the opal lights of The Moonstone place, children’s laughter like birdsong that breaks apart in the humid air as you danced and sang long into the nights. Of dark autumns and smoky air, a bonfire and a small hand that holds your own with such gentle reverence.

“Clotho said you wanted to leave the Library?” Rhysand questions you, his eyes are dark and filled with a thinly veiled darkness that draws you into their depths as you speak to him without pretense.

“I do,” You answer him honestly, your voice wavering only a little, “I don’t want to spend my days rotting in the depths of that House.”

Rhysand considers it carefully and his face twists into a pained expression that almost breaks your resolve. You hadn’t meant to hurt him-- never. But you’re done hiding in the dark.

The world is a cruel place and full of cruel men. It always had been and it always will be. There is nought you can do to change that. So why should you cower from the world any longer?

You want to live.

The whining of the restless babe in Rhys’ arms rouses your attention and something akin to longing gathers in your chest as you regard him. You pull a lip between your teeth as he fusses and Rhysand struggles to soothe him. The babe looses a cry that comes out as a pitiful howl and you can feel a small ripple of power permeate the air.

“May I hold him?” The words take everyone in the room by surprise and the High Lord only nods easily and stands to pass the babe into your arms.

“I’m grateful,” You continue as Rhysand stands before you and transfers his son’s weight into the crook of your arm, “To you and your court for providing me, and girls like me with somewhere to heal but--”

“But you weren’t meant to cower in the darkness of the library forever.” Rhysand’s words come out as little more than a whisper and the feeling of his warm breath on your skin is something entirely perverse.

You shake your head, mouthing an inaudible ‘no’ before lowering yourself back into the chair by the hearth, hoping to hide the rosy blush that spreads across your cheeks. Rhys doesn’t retreat back into his armchair like you had thought he might and instead sinks to his knees before you and allows one of his son's fists to wrap around his ring finger. The babe seems to quieten then in your arms as he nuzzles against your chest, one balled first clinging to his father and the other pulling at the neckline of your robes and he smiles sleepily in your arms.

Looking at him now you are overcome with the realization of the absence that had stained this family’s happiness. Rhysand had given himself completely to a woman who had changed her mind. And their son-- their son; all cherub cheeked and big blue eyes framed with dark lashes-- had been abandoned by the woman who was supposed to love him without condition. Before the ghost of her had been an abstract thing. Something intangible and errant, a whisper or a memory, but now, as you look between the babe in your arms and the woman immortalized about the hearth you feel nothing but biting fury. A dangerous wrath only tempered by the stilling of the High Lord beside you.

It is Morrigan’s movement at the side of the room that rouses you from thought. “Then perhaps we can come to an arrangement?” The smile that graces her lips is brilliant and calculating and the sparkle in those umber eyes tells you she is genuine in his intentions.

“An arrangement?” You ask hesitantly, raising one arched brow to her.

“Yes.” The High Lord nods in agreement as Morrigan approaches you all casually, sauntering over to snatch a glass of wine from the decanter, “you’re free to leave the Library at any time but--”

“Help me take care of Nyx,” The High Lord beats you to it, his voice is soft and gentle and one of his fingers runs along the curve of Nyx’s ear as he begins to doze in your arms.

“High Lor-” You start, and you’re torn between declining outright and trying to dissuade them altogether, “Mor, I haven’t cared for a babe in well over 60 years.”

“Listen to me,” Rhysand’s violet gaze is unyielding and when you can no longer avert his gaze he takes on of your hands in his own and all but pleads with you, “take care of Nyx, for one year-- just until I get used to doing it on my own-- just until he starts his pre-schooling.”

The thought of him raising his son all alone pains you, a physical, bone deep ache that settles over you. You mourn for him then, for the love he thought he had, for all that he lost and then you mourn for the babe in your arms. For the son who will grow up without knowing his mother’s love. The High Lord looks at you through dark lashes and you note the tiredness in his eyes and the desperate sadness that seems to radiate from him these days and yet, he smile softly at you. As one might smile at something lovely and precious.

“And in return?” You ask peering down at him with sympathetic eyes when his whole body goes lax.

“I’ll help you get set up somewhere-- anywhere you want.” The words come quickly and if you were a cruel woman you would see what more he would offer you. But when he’s looking at you like you might just be his last hope you can’t find it in you to do anything but allow yourself to be persuaded by him.

You see a home; a cottage maybe, made of ancient stone and covered with climing ivy and jasmine. On the outskirts of Velaris, away from the artisans and market stalls of the main square, but close enough that you never feel truly alone. A home and it smells of mandarin and moonflowers, the sound of children laughing, and a garden blooming with violets in the garden in the leonine yellow heat of high summer. You smile wistfully and you swear you feel the gentle caress of a hand in your mind's eye.

“You can live here with us in the meantime” Rhysand continues gesturing to the house around you.

It’s warm and inviting and your body sings in response to the prospect.

“I don’t think that's a good--”

“Just until you find somewhere of your own.” He assures you standing to his full height before you. He casts a morose glance to the portrait that hangs about the hearth and you can see the moment his violet eyes meet painted cerulean.

“Rhys--” You warn gently.

“Please,” He turns to you again and the desperation in his tone has you yielding to him further, a gentle sweep over your face before settling on the sleeping babe in your arms, “please.” He repeats it once more and you swear your heart breaks just a little bit for him.

He had saved you once, you think. You had only been a girl then but you remember looking at him in that light; he looked like the shadow of some dark winged God-- avenging and angelic.

Perhaps this time the girl can save the God.

“A bargain then.” You muse lightly holding out a pinky finger to him.

Rhysand huffs out a laugh and curls his finger around your own. Nyx’s hand seems to flex in response, his own tiny pinky finger outstretched in agreement.

“A bargain.” With the simple confirmation you feel the gentle burn of a promise as it kisses its way up your wrist, and you see Rhysand’s own inky sigil as it glows faintly on the skin of his outstretched arm.

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand acotar #rhysand imagine #rhys acotar #rhys fanfic #rhysand headcanons

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peachesofteal · 2 months

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ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here

‘C’mon, you never want to go out.”

You rub your temples, eyes closed in exasperation. “I’m broke, Case.”

“I’ll spot you. Come on, it’s Friday. I’ll get us into The Rook.” She pleads and pushes, tugging away your excuses and defenses until you’re backed into a corner with nowhere to run. Finally, you opt for a different tactic, lamely.

“Doesn’t that place have a waiting list?”

“Oh yeah, miles long. But the owner likes me.” The owner. How does she even know the owner of The Rook?

“I don’t know…” you linger, still bent over your tiny kitchen table, back bowed and tired, “isn’t it like, dangerous?”

“The Rook is neutral ground or something, I don’t know. It’s perfectly fine, I’ve been dozens of times.” A litany of stories exists about the speakeasy, from its origins to the current clientele, each as unbelievable as the next, and you’ve always imagined it to be this dark den of sin and debauchery, filled to brim with hitmen and lawlessness. “You have to do something other than work and sleep; you know. You’re missing out on your whole life.” She chides, attempting to launch into the same speech she repeats over and over every few weeks.

“Alright, alright,” you look down at your torn up cuticles and sigh, “I’ll go.”

You weren’t wrong about The Rook being dark.

It’s hollowed out under a club, nooks and crannies and little hallways splitting off in every direction, dim lamps and flickering candlelight casting shadows to the ceiling, bartenders dressed in all black working behind a massive, burnished wood bar along the back wall. Velvet couches, high top tables, overstuff armchairs flow in the space, and Case tells you there are more rooms if you’re keen to explore, explaining in hushed tones how there’s usually a band in one, a card game of sorts in another, a pool table somewhere, all with various styles of seating, and even another bar. It's elegant, decadent, sinful. Most of the people are startlingly beautiful, high heels and skintight dresses, perfectly made-up faces, polished onyx cuff links gleaming against expensive navy suits.

Even the drinks are licentious.

You decidedly do not belong here. Perched on a stool next to Case, you occasionally rub your wrists, casually wondering if it would have been acceptable to wear your braces, your carpal tunnel flaring into a swell of agony.

Wouldn’t that be a sight.

The bartender slides her two generous neat pours of… something, and you raise an eyebrow.

“On the house, from the boss.” He says with a wink, and she tips her head to ceiling with a bubble of a laughter, before pressing one of the tumblers into your hand.

“What is it?”

“Probably bourbon.”

“Oh, no thanks, I don’t-“

“Just shoot it.” She throws it back with ease, showing her teeth afterwards, a hyena leering in the lamplight.

Fuck it. Maybe it will the throbbing in your wrists will quiet down.

It’s thick, syrupy, hot in your throat. Burns all the way down and settles like lava in your stomach, uncomfortable until the sting ebbs into warmth, moving through your bones.

“Not bad.” You rasp, and she smiles.

There are more free drinks. They stick to your insides like tar, slicking you in a heavy cotton, weighing your limbs down, loosening the tension in your neck and shoulders, peeling away your layers of discomfort one by one.

You’re surprised by how at home Case seems in this place, how comfortable she is, smiling and waving to the occasional person, making small talk here and there. She practically floats in her seat, black dress taut against every dimple and dip on her body, hair artfully twisted into something that could be considered modern art. She’s a gazelle. A heron. Something graceful and gorgeous, fine feathered and fabulous.

And you’re… a tired girl in a tired dress, counting her lucky stars that there seem to be so many generous patrons buying drinks tonight.

“Having fun?” She whispers, nudging you with her shoulder.

“How often do you come here?” Her eyes wander, flicking past you and then back, wistful caution etched across her brow.

“Often enough,” She sips her drink and then folds her hands together on the bar top, looking over shoulder, “Most of these people in here… are connected to organized crime somehow.” The information doesn’t surprise you, but hearing it confirmed, knowing it’s not just some story made up, some fairytale about boogeymen, makes you shiver.

“Like, the mafia?”

“The mafia is Italian, but they have a presence in the city.” She shrugs, like it’s all common knowledge. Like you’re out of the loop. “The Rook belongs to Kyle Garrick.” You shake your head, unfamiliar. “Of The 141?” your mouth goes dry.

The 141.

The 141 were a notorious organized crime group who ran half, if not more, of the city. You knew they owned clubs, bars, restaurants, and hotels, but you were never clear on the details of their illegitimate work, and you didn’t want to know.

You knew, for sure: they were men to be feared. Men capable of terrible things. Destruction. Death.

Their ongoing war with The Shadows was the reason the city was soaked in blood.

“Don’t worry,” she rushes out, hand on your arm, “like I said, It’s neutral here. Nothing happens in The Rook.” You nod meekly, head swimming. You’re more than drunk now, stuck in a sloshing ship, floor tilting beneath your feet. The urge to get away, to disappear slams into you like a truck, and you slip off the stool.

“Which way is the bathroom?” She points to one of those dark hallways, and you stumble through the throngs of people like a fresh born fawn, unsteady and teetering on the edge, approaching a hallway that splits into two.

Which way?

You pick one, sure you’ll run into someone who can point you in the right direction, but when it zigs and zags up to a polished wooden door, you stop short, confused. The alcohol has rendered you fuzzy, and your vision spins, trying to look for a recognizable placard.

Is this the bathroom?

It must be.

The first thing you realize when you push the door open, is a chorus of men’s voices, stopping on a dime. You hear them, before you see them, and immediately try to backpedal, tugging the door handle towards you, trying to close it. You’re wayward, with heavy, tired feet, and the movement is slow, slow enough that an opposing force pulls on the other side and then-

rips.

You fly forward into the room, dragged by your grip on the handle, spilling onto your knees with a shocked gasp, and someone curses in the background, another voice barking out a name.

Then, the room goes Sunday church service silent.

You gape at the table of men, transfixed in horror on the two familiar faces staring back at you, the unforgettable Scot and his marble etched partner, who was just in the shop only two days ago. They’re frozen, half risen from their seats, a cigarette burning away in an ash tray filling the air with smoke.

There’s a nickel-plated flash, and your blood curdles.

He has a gun.

“I…” you croak, still on your knees, unable to categorize or rationalize why you’re seeing them here, why one of them has a gun, why any of this is happening. “I’m sorry, I was lo-looking for the bathroom.” There are many men in this room, you realize. More than just the two you’re acquainted with, and your stomach rolls, nausea creeping forward, trying to bring the too many drinks you’ve consumed up through your mouth. “I’m sorry.” You say again, more clearly.

Obviously, you’re interrupting something.

“These aren’t the toilets, little girl.” A Russian voice booms over your head. “Unless you’re going to piss on the floor for us?”

“Nikolai.” The blonde cuts, Manchester accent rougher than sandpaper, and you shake your head frantically.

“N-no, I just got turned around, that’s all.” Your brain screams at you to get up, but your body is immobile, and you look away in fear.

A warm hand takes yours, tanned skin soft and sweet, gentle touch urging your face back up.

“It’s alright, doe. Ye’re alright.” It’s the Scot, crooning in your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you to your feet. “Let’s get ye to the bathroom then, aye?” You lean against him, breathing in cypress and ocean spray, letting him guide you out of the room, his partner right at your back.

“We’re not finished.” Someone calls out, and the bigger man clips out a response.

“We are now.”

#ghoap x reader #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader

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artethyst · 3 months

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~ Shadows Bathed In Moonlight ~ Pt.1

Azriel x Youngest Archeron Sister! Reader/OC

“Azriel we have been over this,” Rhysand brought a hand to his face, slim digits ghosting across his jaw in deep thought. “It is out of my hands- you are forbidden from telling her. Do you understand?”

“Even you cannot forbid me from such a thing,” he let out a dark chuckle is disbelief. “Tell me, High Lord, why is it that two of my brothers have found their mate- free to accept the bond, and it is I left alone- in the dark? As usual.” The Shadowsinger’s voice dripped with venom, an uncharacteristic snarl on his face as his primal instincts took over, having no outlet for such scathing carnal desires- having been barred from even spending time with his Mate.

“Azriel, you know it is not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

“She is still coming to terms with what happened to her- her powers are still out of control-”

“Then let me help her!”

“That is Cassian’s job.”

The two men became silent as a soft rap on the door signified them of a presence- her presence, Azriel noted, her soothing scent of fresh lillies and the first rain of spring overwhelming him as her angelically golden head poked through the door nervously.

He felt his lips tug at the corner at the sight of her, Rhysand giving him a warning look at the almost unnoticeable gesture.

Azriel. The familiar voice was strained. Leave us.

“I…I apologise for interrupting,” came her gentle voice, twinkling blue eyes apologetic as Azriel was forced to tear his own away, the golden thread that only he could see taunting him in glittering ocean of her iris.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” came the Shadowsinger’s smooth reply, bowing in such a way Rhysand knew his infamous patience had been worn thin. “High Lord.”

Azriel had not ventured far, his shadows, uncharacteristically disobedient, willing him to stay close enough to her- his Mate in an onyx haze of longing he was beginning to suffocate under.

He watched Rhysand leave first, jaw ticking as the male rounded the corner, anticipating his sister-in-law to follow in tow, her gossamer gown and its iridescent scintillation billowing around her like a halo.

He heard her gasp as one of them curled itself around her pointed ear, cursing beneath his breath, only to hear her giggle- a liberating sound that might have exalted him from the depths of his own hell, an angelic noise that could have him repenting on his knees just to hear a single note of.

“Azzie…” she smiled up at him, as he remained still- as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t- he had. “Your shadows are loose again!”

Only for you- ever for you, he wanted to say, words turning to ash quicker than the breath was stolen from his lungs at the sight of her.

He wished he could ask Feyre to immortalise the moment as she stood- tendrils of him dancing across her unblemished skin, their dark illimitability neither scaring nor disgusting her as her rosy cheeks widened, their vaporous talons ardently skimming over her guiltlessness.

“S-Sorry,” was all that came out, low and stuttered, his bronzed countenance flushing at his own weakness- thanking the mother Cassian was not around to tease him for it.

“Do you think they like me?” She teased, unaware of the true weight of her words, “they never seem to latch on to anyone else…” She trailed off as he called them back, unable to stomach the sight of her- so close and yet so far from him, in such a cruel display of fate.

“It is hard for anything not to.” He mused gently, not missing the way her rosebud lips parted, the saccharine scent of her own innate longing drifting up to him in taunting waves of arousal.

“Azriel-” She had not used his name- called him that for such a long time, her fair face falling as he stormed away, wondering what she had done- had said for him to treat her so callously.

Her hand was splayed out in a fruitless attempt to stop him from abandoning her and prevent him from vanishing entirely- a frustrating habit he adopted had as of recent, baring its ugly, wilted head whenever their conversations has begun to blossom beyond anything other than formality.

In the few years she had known him he had never acted in such a way, making her slowly retreat back into the self-loathing girl he had once culled from her self inflicted cage. His own heart lurched as he felt her through the unclaimed bond- suffering, again, because of him.

He had been the one to make her feel like she was home- that he might have even been it. Yet the retreating coils of his own darkness reminded her that he could never love her.

That she would never be enough for a man such as he.

And as her soul cried for him in a manner she had yet to recognise, his own howled back in a melancholic crescendo as he cursed the Mother for always deafening his heart’s symphony.

#acotar x oc #acotar fic #fanfic #acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel x oc #azriel x archeron sister #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x original character #azriel x reader

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b00kdiary · 6 months

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Dreamer | Rhysand (I)

Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand begrudgingly goes to Hewn City to secure a marriage pact that will indefinitely bond the two Courts together- but the fine ladies of the Court of Nightmares are not what he wants or needs.

Instead, he discovers Lady Y/N, and she has no qualms about telling him how he has failed this City and her. This is more than just coincidence, it’s fate.

Warnings: long chapters, mature content (18 +) swearing, eventual smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"High Lord, Rhysand of the Night Court."

I reach the top of the dais as my name is announced, my footsteps echoing against the polished floor and the sound bounces through the room, through the tense silence. No one speaks, they barely breathe, as I slowly turn, my face a sheet of ice as I settle onto my throne.

I let a nonchalant smile tug at my lips, the dark mask of a tyrant slipping into place as I eye the endless room before me. A macabre and dreary setting with its ebony walls and onyx ceiling, the beasts carved into the cavernous stone a mirror to the type of Fae who lived in this City.

I emulate the darkness as I lean back, my long legs spreading apart and my fingers curling into the engraved snake form that curves around the throne, the head peering out over my shoulder, my own personal monster.

I cock my head at the dozens of males before me, Council Members, my violet eyes twinkling in amusement as they all remained bowed, knees pressed to the floor, heads lowered and waiting for my word.

"You may rise," I drawl, my tone the picture of boredom, and as Kier and his peers rise to their feet, I see the apprehension and distaste on their faces for me, for my inner circle. Kier observes me, his brown eyes flickering at the prolonged silence. "Kier?"

"As usual, it is an honour to have you here, High Lord," Kier inclines his head, scurrying forward as he speaks, his own mask of reverence slipping into place as he stops before me. "As the steward of Hewn City, I am delighted by your decision to unite our two Courts through marriage, as are the Council present here today."

I see the way my Court stiffens, Mor, Cassian and Azriel all flanked at the bottom of the dais seem to go unnaturally still, the stones in their eyes wholly- unable to hide their disapproval of this whole arrangement.

"We all have our duties, Kier, the Court must always come first," My lips tilt in a mocking smile, and Kier shrivels under the tendrils of dark power that dance around me, an omnipresent threat so at odds with my amused gaze, "My marriage to a Lady of Hewn City will be a victory for us all."

Marriage.

The word tastes like poison on my tongue, any hopes and dreams I had once harboured turning to ash in my mouth at the cold reality I was faced with. To marry a female, I didn't know or love, to mate with her and sire a child, and secure an alliance with the Court of Nightmares indefinitely.

Heavy is the head that bears the crown indeed.

"It will be an alliance venerated for generations to come, I'm sure," Kier smiles, an ugly, wretched sight and I saw Mor shiver in my peripheral, an imperceptible movement, a conditioned reaction to her father. "High Lord, may I introduce to you the fine ladies selected by the Council."

I brace myself, masking my dread with an entertained smirk, drawing on the worst parts of myself, the worst parts of this place to hide the male that roared in warning to me inside. A click of doors opening at my left, and then several soft footsteps echoing into the chamber.

I stare, unyielding and silent, as several young women stride into the room, their heads bowed and back straight, adorned with fine clothes and finer jewellery as they stop at the foot of the dais before me.

They were fine, lovely even, tall, and thin, typical of High Fae female beauty and yet, despite their soft smiles and delicate frames, I frown.

"You can't be serious, even you wouldn't be this cruel," Mor releases a horrified, tight breath and both Cassian and Azriel step forward in unison, an impenetrable wall, as Kier's eyes turn to Mor and his lip curls. "These 'fine ladies' are girls, children, how old are they?"

The room shifted at her sharp words, Kier tensing at the accusation and the males of the Council muttering amongst themselves, their eyes burning as they glared at my cousin- at her supposed insolence for speaking out of turn.

"Their age is of little significance, girl," Kier sneers, that simpering fool mask he wore melting into revulsion and anger as he took in his outcasted daughter. My fingers curled around the throne under me as he spoke, that pit of darkness inside me churning. "They have all had their first bleed-"

"Cauldron," Cassian swore, his dark hair shifting as he moved his gaze over to those girls, and I saw his throat bob at the sight- so young, broken, pawns moved and used in a game of power.

"You're disgusting," Mor hissed, and I heard the pain clawing at her throat, her face pulled into a devastated frown as she took in those girls- and it was as if she were looking into a mirror, to the girl she had once been. "These girls are not chattel; you cannot sell their innocence for your own gain-"

"These ladies are being honoured, girl, an honour that you will never understand," Kier snarled, his emphasis on honour so clear, an indirect assault on Mor's character, on the choice she made to free herself. "To marry the High Lord is a privilege, one these ladies are eager for-"

Azriel's shadows thrum around him, restless, wild, and I knew his control was wearing thin the longer Kier spoke, the longer those girls stood before us, trembling under the burden on their shoulders.

"Enough." One word, low and sinister, and every mouth in the room closed, every Fae in the room turned utterly still at the command.

I grit my teeth, letting the furious power within me radiate into the room, let it dance through the air, brush against my subjects, let them feel the warning, the threat, that I was. I smile as their faces pale, flinching back from the vile magic, a reminder that I could destroy them without even lifting a hand.

"Kier, I am going to choose to believe that this decision was made out of sheer stupidity rather than insolence," My voice is a calm storm, but my eyes- they rage with a current of violence and death, the kind that made males twice my age blanche- and they do. "I will choose to believe that you did not invite me here to waste my time- you wouldn't dare be so foolish, would you Kier?"

I shifted forward in my seat, my eyes narrowing down at the male, and it took all the restraint in me not to shatter every bone in his body, to not pluck his eyes from his head and tear his tongue from his mouth- and he sees that desire to inflict pain upon him in my gaze.

"Never, High Lord, I would not dream of-" Kier barely contains his stuttering words, a mixture of fear, indignation and humiliation lacing through his widening gaze, but like the worm he was, he bowed his head to me in remorse. "It was a grave misjudgement, one that will not be repeated again."

"Good- I desire to sire a child, Kier, not marry one," I sneer, my disgust prevalent across every hard inch of my face as I turn from Kier, moving my eyes across every last council member, "Just as I am sure you all agree, these girls have many more years left to enjoy their youth, yes?"

I make the threat clear in my words, make them clear in my eyes- touch these girls and die.

None oppose me, their hearts hammering in their chests as they nod their head in agreement, subservient and controlled- and a small kernel of satisfaction fills me, that they felt a fraction of what the girls before me did.

"Kier, join me in the Council Room," I stand from my chaise, and as if it were muscle memory, every single person in the room falls to a knee and drops their heads as I descend the stairs. "Let us discuss the consequences you'll all face should you disappoint me again."

***

"Y/N, a union between the High Lord and a Lady of Hewn City is exactly the chance we've been waiting for," Cassandra pestered, her wide eyes pleading with me, but I ignored her again, choosing to instead clean the Council Room for the next meeting with haste. "It's a chance for change."

"Who are you trying to convince, Cassie- me or yourself?" I mutter, raising a dark brow at her as I tuck in the oak chairs, shoving them into place harder than was needed. "This marriage is a farce, and you're deluding yourself by thinking otherwise."

Cassie groans, the sound reverberating through the empty room, and I try to not laugh at her as she rushes around the endless table, her sea-blue eyes rolling as she stops beside me.

"Why must you be such a pessimist?" Cassie demands, her cold, slim fingers ripping the papers from my hand and slamming them onto the table before me. "With a lady from our Court married to the High Lord, we can finally hope, we will have someone on our side- to help us, to fix this Cauldron-forsaken City-"

"And who would that be?" I scoff out a laugh, a bitter, hollow sound as I turn my hard gaze to her, strands of my loose hair brushing my hot cheeks as I move, "Thanatos's daughter despises the Court of Dreams, Kier's nieces care more about fine jewels and clothes than people, and the other daughters are afraid of their own shadows, they would shit themselves at the sight of the High Lord and his inner circle."

Cassie purses her lips at my harsh words, and I frown, sighing deeply at the look of dejection on her lovely face, hating myself for snuffing out the light that had filled her eyes. But it had to be done- some people were not meant to dream.

"I'm sorry, Cassie, I know you wish it were otherwise, I do too," I force back the lump in my throat as I turn from her, hating the way my lip trembled and my hands felt weak, "But this marriage will benefit nobody but the High Lord, his court, and the males of the Council- that's it. They have never and will never care, there is no one on our side but us."

Silence fills the room at my hoarse dead words, and the reality of them, the reality that we were truly and irrevocably stuck in this life, in this cycle of hell made my eyes burn.

"It saddens me that you feel that way, My Lady," A deep, velvety voice rasped from behind me, and the air went taut at the unfathomable power that penetrated the room.

Cassandra gasped, something spilling from her hand and dropping to the floor with a deafening crunch. My stomach twists into knots as I brace myself, all the blood leeching from my face as I turn- to where the High Lord stood, his inner circle and Kier watching on either side.

"High Lord," Cassie choked on the title, choked on her fear and before the male before us could speak, she stumbled down to a knee, her head bowed and her golden hair falling forward to shield the terror on her face.

I couldn't move, not even as the voice inside me screamed and begged for me to bow, to submit myself to him- for I had heard stories of Rhysand.

Of his abilities as a Daemati, able to shatter a person's mind without lifting a hand, of his ruthlessness as High Lord, reducing people to ash with a smile on his lovely face, of all the horrific things he had done in his five hundred years of existence.

And it seemed he saw it on my face, perhaps even saw it in my mind, the nightmares and tales, the horrors spread about him in the City, about the kind of male he was.

His violet gaze narrowed, the constellations in them beaming as he stared at me, as he cocked his head, his lips pursed into a thin line- as if observing me. I shook under the silent act, the unyielding hold he had over me, as well as the gazes of his court at his side.

"Y/N!" Cassie hissed under her breath, her head turning and her silver-lined eyes meeting mine, tears sullying the usually tranquil blue as she pleaded with me to move, to bow.

"Insolent girl," Kier spat, his gaze hard as he glared at me and the breath caught in my lungs as a dark eclipse of magic shot from him, striking against my stomach, hard enough that I lurched forward in pain and then another hit a second later, slamming into my jaw. "Bow before your High Lord."

I groaned as I fell to a knee, the impact of the bone against the polished floor striking through my whole leg and up my body, but that was nothing compared to the throb that burned through my stomach and the cut at my lip, the taste of metal filling my mouth.

I heard a gasp, a feminine sound of surprise and concern from above me as I leaned forward, my eyes pinched shut and every breath feeling like glass in my lungs as I tried to compose myself- forcing down the pain in my jaw, in my stomach, in my heart.

I heard footsteps and then the room went still, as if a blanket of ice had fallen over us.

"High Lord, she-she was being impudent-" Begging and broken words, riddled with fear and my eyes shot open at the sound of a sickening crunch, an agonised scream following it, and the aura of death filling the space.

"No, you are impudent, Kier," That voice again, but now it sounded different- the kind of mercilessness that could haunt a person's nightmares, that could be found in the darkest hollows of hell. "You do not touch her, or any other female, ever."

Another crunch and I recognise the sound now, it was bones splintering, tendons tearing, blood gushing and Kier cried out again, a horrible, strangled sound.

"Leave," The High Lord breathed the command, and I felt the floor shake under his restraint like he was funnelling his power down into the ground as an anchor. "and do not heal that hand, I want you to remember my words today, Kier."

I keep my head low, staring at the floor, unable to look up as footsteps bound away, fast and stumbling and I cringe at the sight of blood leaking against the floor, a trail following after Kier as he exits the room.

And despite the tendrils of pain still wrecking through me- I internally groaned at the thought of having to clean the blood up.

An amazed huff of air left the High Lord, it sounded almost like a laugh, but I didn't dare raise my head. Not even as he slowly sauntered over, his footsteps deliberate and slow, I didn't even look up when that trail of blood vanished, magicked away, leaving behind not even a stain in memory.

He stopped before me, and my heart thrummed so loud I knew they could all hear it.

"My Lady," Rhysand murmured, his voice soft now, like a caress of wind against my skin. I swallow down the bitter taste in my mouth, my eyes fluttering as I lift my head- to see the hand he had reaching down for me. "Please, rise."

I blink at the outreached hand, heat filling my cheeks at Rhysand's tender gaze, any whisper of violence or darkness gone, replaced by something so much sweeter. I gnaw on my cheek, my hand sweating and shaking as I reach forward, gently placing my palm in his.

The second our hands connect, something charges through me, bright and sharp and strong and for a second Rhysand's eyes widen, just for a second, but then he blinks at it's gone- as if I had imagined it.

"Thank you, High Lord," I breathe and his fingers curl firmly around my palm as I wince, my knees shaking and knocking as I rise to my feet. He whispers something gently under his breath, his head glancing sideways, and I sigh when Cassandra rises too, her slender frame curling back as she stands.

I crane my neck to meet Rhysand's eyes, and upon seeing my face, seeing the cut leaking blood at my lip, his expression hardens. He still hadn't let go of my hand, his large, ringed fingers still gripping around me like a vice, calming the trembling shakes that ran through me.

"I apologise for Kier's actions," Rhysand sighed, his dark lashes fluttering as he slowly slipped his hand from mine, moving to the pocket of his jacket, his fingers pulling free the cloth there. My hand felt cold as it fell back to my side, but as Rhysand lifted the cloth between his fingers, my head hazed.

I didn't breathe, couldn't, as Rhysand gently brushed the soft cloth against the cut at my lip, soaking the material with blood and being so careful that I didn't even feel the pain stinging at the touch. I feel the surprised stare of Cassie at my side, of his family at his back, but nothing deterred Rhysand.

"I should be the one to apologise, High Lord," I stutter, finally feeling like I can breathe as he pulls his hand away, and I blink away the fog, clearing my throat as I step back, as I let the bubble, he created around us pop. "I spoke out of turn, and I should have bowed-"

"You don't need to apologise for your honesty or anything else," He shook his head, the soft waves of his blue-black hair shifting with the movement, and I forced myself to not stare at every inch of his handsome face. "I don't punish Ladies for words spoken in earnest between friends."

I nod, uncertainty and weariness shining in my gaze as I take in his intense half-smile, a smile that seems to brighten when I glance at Cassandra, looking equally as confused as me, and I shrug weakly.

"Though I will admit I am rather taken aback by your words, Lady Y/N," I shiver at the sound of my name on his silver tongue, at the way he cocked his head down at me, a purely predatory move, as he spoke. "I would like to hear more of your thoughts on the matter."

Hear my thoughts?

I go still at his easy words, at the question rather than a command, and Cassie releases a puff of air- like there wasn't enough oxygen in the room to placate her aching lungs.

"What?" I croak and then wince at the insolence behind my words, a habit that I couldn't shake in front of the High Lord. I pinch my eyes shut at the way his lip quirks, and my embarrassment is worsened by the small chuckle that General Cassian huffs out. "I mean- I'm not sure that's-"

"Now, now- don't go all shy on me, My Lady," Rhysand purred, nonchalance highlighted in every inch of his muscled form as he tucked the cloth back into his pocket and grinned at me, like a lion before devouring a lamb. "I think we're past the point of formalities, yes?"

***

"There is no one on our side but us."

The words were so hollow and defeated, the type of ruined that spoke of no hopes, dreams, or future, just nothing. And it was hard to explain what I felt at the words, like a sharp pain as if she had reached into my chest and torn out my heart with her bare hand.

She said that they have never and will never care- 'they' being me, my court, the people around me now and the ones left behind in my City of Starlight.

Sincere words, loaded words, spoken by a female behind closed doors, in confidence to her friend- and yet, I had overheard.

I wasn't sure what to expect when stepping into this room and wasn't sure what kind of female I would be confronted with. I had anticipated a female full of loathing and darkness, a kind of anger that would burn in her eyes, that could be seen through every breath she took, in every inch of her skin as she moved.

And yet, as I stared at the girl before me, I was met with the exact opposite.

The other lady, Cassandra, had become a shaking mess the second her blue eyes laid upon me, her breaths gasping from her as if everyone would be the last. She was terrified because that was all she knew in this city; it was all she knew of me.

But Lady Y/N was different- she was frightened by me, yes, I saw it in her doe-like eyes, saw it in the memories that flashed through her mind of me, the tales of my cruelty and brutality, the blood that stained my hands and the darkness that tainted my heart.

But she didn't look away, as if she couldn't.

Here she was faced with a monster that mothers warned their children about, yet she stared at me as if she saw me- and was as beguiled by me as I was by her.

"Now, now- don't go all shy on me, My Lady," I smile, the tightness in my chest easing as a stain tints her plump cheeks, and her chocolate eyes widen, "I think we're past the point of formalities, yes?"

Her friend swallows, audible and thick, as if struggling to get down air and Azriel shifts on his feet, his brow furrowed as if concerned the girl might collapse. Y/N glances at her, and amusement fills me at the small, confused shrug she gives her.

"You won't uh-" She clears her throat, her hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, and I watch every single movement as she tucks the silken strand over a perfectly arched ear, revealing the smooth column of her neck. "You won't turn me to dust, right?"

I snort, a short and amazed sound, and she gnaws on her lip, avoiding the cut there and I have to begrudgingly tear my gaze away when my court steps forward, my brothers half-smiling and Mor looking at Y/N as if she was as charmed by her as I was.

"No, no, Lady Y/N," My mask slips and slips until it's completely gone, and I'm glad that Kier left, glad that none but her saw me like this because it felt freeing, to be in this Cauldron-forsaken place and be able to genuinely smile. "No one will be turned to dust, on my honour as High Lord."

"Please do tell us," Mor steps forward, a small smile on her red-pained lips and Y/N's breath hitches at the eyes on her, at the attention. "Contrary to what you may think, we do care."

Y/N considers, and I can hear her heart hammering in her chest, fast and loud and endless, but despite that she lifts her chin and something raw runs through me at the look in her eyes- the bravery.

"I- I think that Hewn City is a cesspit, full of the worst kind of Fae and every amoral despicable thing a person could do happens here," She breathes, and her soft body trembles with the exhale, as if speaking these words aloud were exactly the catharsis she needed. "And to be honest, I blame you for that."

Surprise- it fills me and every single other person in the room.

"Y/N!" Cassandra gasps, and her eyes seem to widen further, impossibly big, latching onto me and full of pleading, "She doesn't mean that- she must be more delirious than anticipated from the-"

"Cassie, please," Y/N scoffs, a hollow and low sound, and the tension in the air goes thick as they glance at each other. "Someone needs to say it, it might as well be me."

I fold my arms across my chest, my lips pursing as they stare at each other, some internal telepathic conflict waging between them, in their eyes and despite my abilities, despite the fact, that it would be so easy for me to slip into their minds and wade through all their thoughts, I don't.

I glanced back at my Court, who stood just behind me, and their faces were contemplative too- not angry, nor offended, but shocked- here was this girl, no older than twenty, with eyes as soft as a doe's, telling us exactly how we have failed.

"Please, continue," I nod, and I hope my eyes are encouraging, because even if I do not wish to hear her words, she was right, they needed to be said and I needed to hear them.

"For centuries, the Court of Nightmares and the Court of Dreams have been segregated and somehow we've fallen into two categories: good and bad," She swallows, and something aches in my chest at the sorrow on her lovely face, the burden, "But no one is born bad, people aren't inherently evil but growing up in a place like this? What else is there but the horrors we see and endure, what else are we destined to become?"

Another shaky inhale, a more broken exhale, and my magic burn inside me as if every desperate breath from her is like a call and my body is begging in answer.

"Your court has washed their hands of us, all of us because it was easier to believe that we were all damned than to try to help- the small minority have ruined the majority," Silver lines her hardening gaze, and I feel us all, every single one of us, go tense at the single tear that trickled down her cheek.

I hear a strangled sound come from behind me and my burning gaze glances back- to Mor, tears brimming her eyes and her lips trembling, watching the girl before us, and feeling every single atom of hurt as if it were her own.

"Morrigan was lucky enough to escape this City, these people because she had you- but do you truly think that she is the only good person born here, that in all these years, she is the only one worthy of salvation?"

More tears leak down Mor's face and Y/N's, endless, eternal, years of suffering in one single moment and I feel the guilt of my actions barrel down at me, a truth that I have spent years avoiding coming to light, like a thunderbolt to the heart.

I let my magic hold me down, let it root me in my spot- because those tears on her cheeks are tormenting me, ruining me, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and brush them away.

"So, forgive me if I have no hope left, that died in me, in all of us, long ago," Y/N clears her throat, her chest rising and falling in powerful waves and my throat is as dry as sand as she wipes the tears from her cheeks, "I- I think we could have all been dreamers- if only you had given us the chance."

In five hundred years, the mask I wore never slipped, never faltered, never was hard to wear- until right now. Right now, as my gaze locked with her, as I saw all the horrors she endured, because of my neglect, I couldn't even find that mask within me- it was gone.

There's silence, heavy and long and burdensome for what feels like hours as I stare at her, and I don't think I could look away even if I wanted to do and I don't, I don't want to.

Y/N inhales a sharp breath as I stalk towards her and the magic in me dances and whirls and strikes through the air, dark and ominous and wholly powerful. My jaw locks as she grabs out to her friend, Cassandra whimpering as Y/N yanks the girl behind her- a shield, against me.

Brave- so utterly brave. Willing to face off with a male five hundred years her senior and her High Lord, to protect her friend.

A Queen in her own right.

I stop before her, so close that I feel her breasts brush my chest, feel the small trembles that wreck through her body, can smell the lavender and jasmine on her perfect skin. She raises her eyes to me, and I see every ounce of her character, her heart and soul, as she tries to not cower before me.

"How old are you, My Lady?" I mutter, and she shivers under my easy words, her brow furrowing at the non-threat. "And what do you do here, your role?"

"Twenty-one, High Lord." She swallows, her tongue flicking out nervously to wet her lips and my hands clench at the sight, at the moisture on her pink mouth. "My father was Captain of an import chain for the City, I was given the role of Lady-in-waiting as a reward for his work."

I sense the curiosity and shock of my court behind me, the way they imperceptibly inch closer to me, to us, drawn in by my words- by the intention behind them.

"You believe the alliance is a farce, that it wouldn't change anything?" I ask, softer, and my power slips from me, curling around her curved hips and soft thighs, moving through her silken hair and over her sensitive skin- and she shakes her head, unable to speak. "What if I were to find a Lady of Hewn City who shared your sentiments, who desired for change and salvation just as you do- would that make you more inclined to hope?"

Cassandra sucked in a sharp breath, her blue eyes widening- in realisation. And I felt the air tauten, my inner circle going still, knowingly.

But Y/N cocked her head, a youthful move, not seeing what was right in front of her.

"Yes, I think that you marrying a Lady who genuinely cares for this City and its people would be a step in the right direction," She considers, and I can't fight my smile at the tender, sincere, confusion that pinches her lovely face. "Thought I seriously doubt you will find any such female here."

"Hm," A lazy grin stretches across my face, bright and sure, drawing from the feeling blooming in my chest, raw and new and terrifying as I stare down at her, "I already have."

"High Lord? I don't understand-" Her words melt into a gasp as my fingers caress her cheek, moving ever so gently against that sore cut at her lip- and satisfaction fills me when her eyes flutter, a breathy sound slipping from her.

"I have already found the perfect Lady to marry," Her face burns as I run my eyes languidly down her figure, across her entire face and body- and she stills as realisation fills her, "All you have to do is say yes, Y/N darling."

#acotar #rhysand #rhysand smut #rhysand x reader #smut #sarah j maas #azriel acotar #cassian acotar #rhysand acotar #rhysand x y/n #acotar fanfiction #sjm #the bat boys #acotar smut

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tarotwithlove · 1 month

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GROUP ONE

cards · queen of swords, five of pentacles, the sun, the magician, the world, onyx: willpower, strength, protection.

channelled songs · call me baby by exo. coyote, my little brother by mitski. collide by howie day. beggin (original version) by magcon.

my dear group one ♡ the person who loves you most sees you as the standard. you are who they want to be, who they wish to be, and who they are working towards being. in their eyes, you are a role model, even if you do not see yourself as role model material.

this person sees you as disciplined, strong-willed, intelligent, and quick-witted. they think that every conversation with you is like a sparring match -- of course, in a good way. you keep the conversation alive, with ease. you push others to learn more and think deeply before speaking (and about what you’re speaking about) so that they can keep up with you.

though… it is not easy to keep up with you. you’re always ten steps ahead of everyone else. that’s how this person sees you.

they also admire your self-esteem, and find it almost enviable how you live so authentically and loudly when they find it such a struggle to do the same. how you confidently take up space when they find it easier to mumble, bow their head, and hide away.

this person greatly admires you. and they see that you do not do anything to be admired or looked up to -- which only makes them admire and look up to you more. to them, you’re just being your natural self, and there is nothing better and more admirable than this.

GROUP TWO

cards · king of pentacles, page of swords, six of cups, the moon (reversed), page of cups, shungite: connection, relief, calm.

channelled songs · beautiful girl by woosung & peniel. no choir by florence + the machine. bint elkhandaq by mashrou’ leila. angel of small death & the codeine scene by hozier.

my dear group two ♡ the person who loves you most sees you as divinely blessed and divinely protected. they look at you and wonder how someone can be so beautiful, so gifted, so talented, so kind… how someone can be as effortlessly loved as you are…

but, don’t get me wrong, there is no malice or jealousy behind any of this. when they look at you -- and make these observations -- it is all from love. it actually brings them peace that you get to navigate at least some aspects of this life easier than they have had to.

this person also sees you as someone who can not only be relied on, but who you want on your side. whether in an emergency situation or when playing a team sport/game or in an escape room situation, they will always want to choose you.

they think of you as an incredibly intelligent person, especially when it comes to the practical things. this person has more “book smarts” as compared to your “street smarts” so they feel like you work well together easily.

they also admire how compassionate you are. how thoughtful you are. and appreciate that you have never let the realities of life turn your heart cold or numb you to life’s beauty.

i just want to say that this person truly loves you. not only that, but they truly enjoy your company. they also see you as someone who makes the difficulties of life bearable just by being who you are.

GROUP THREE

cards · the sun, five of wands, four of pentacles, five of swords, the fool, tourmaline: focus, flexibility, clarity.

channelled songs · notice me by sza. i love me after you by mitski. so this is love by ilene woods. dreamer by nct 127. focus by ghost9.

my dear group three ♡ the person who loves you most sees you as a “happy pill” -- you make their day better, you make their day brighter, you make them happier -- all without much effort.

this person loves you so much more than you even realise. and, more than that, they respect and admire you more than you realise.

you are always teaching them and introducing to new things -- things which have shaped them in unnameable ways -- and, because of this, this person sees you as their point of reference for a lot of their interests, perspectives, and ideas. hand-in-hand with this, too, this person sees you as someone with whom they can freely share things with -- without judgement or shame.

this person sees you as someone who is trying hard. working hard. and wishes you would let go and let loose, just a little bit. they know how hard your life has been and understand that certain circumstances have jaded you, but they also wish you wouldn’t be so negative about life and the future.

this person thinks highly of you and wishes you would think highly of yourself, as well. they also have high high HIGH hopes for you and what’s in store for you, and, even when you do not see anything to be proud of, they are very proud of you.

GROUP FOUR

cards · seven of pentacles, queen of cups, the chariot, the fool, nine of pentacles, red spinel: action, courage, energy.

channelled songs · mack the knife by frank sinatra & quincy jones. vacation town by the front bottoms. lovely by minzy. c’mon marianne - 2006 remaster by frankie valli & the four seasons.

my dear group four ♡ the person who loves you most sees you as someone who, while they may not have always been handed the best circumstances in life, always somehow finds a way to make the best of what they have.

to this person, you have the midas touch. you can create good circumstances out of bad circumstances. you can make a dish that turned out horribly into something delicious, sew anything back together, fix anything that’s broken. you can save the whole day.

this person sees you as someone with whom anyone would be lucky to build a life. to start a community. in fact, this person sees you as someone they would like to build a whole life with, and who they would to live with and create a community with.

this person’s dream is to have a home with you. an environment in which you can both be safe; in which you can both be free.

and, just to note, this connection doesn’t necessarily have to be romantic. you can have a home, build a life, family, and community, with anyone. for some, it’s likely that this person who loves you most is a family member or close friend who cannot ever see themselves separated from you.

this person sees you as an old-soul and a free-thinker. someone who dances to your own tune and carries yourself in a manner that is so uniquely you. you are an inspiration to them, in many ways. but not only that, they feel as if you probably the only person in the world who truly understands them and the way that they see the world.

#**#tarot #pac #pick a card #tarotblr #witchblr #witch of color #tarotcommunity #tarotcreator #tarotonline #divination #channelled message #channeled message #channeled reading

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saturnville · 1 month

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bite, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x black best friend oc (anvika dawson) content: in which two friends cross a line people have been waiting for them to cross. warning: 18+ content song: bite by njzoma an: y'all know I don't write smut fr, so ntm. but I hope y'all enjoy it. wc: 2,498 tags: the girlies who were hyping me up to post this @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites

“Just because we’re attracted to one another doesn’t mean we need to sleep together. I’m off that. Plus, we’re friends.”

Anvika prided herself on being a woman of self-control and discipline. Though it did not come easy, years of abstinence grew dreary and at times, very lonely, her hard work was not something she was willing to risk. Her decision to step into abstinence wasn’t one she took lightly, nor was it one that she planned, but once Anvika began the journey of healing from a heartbreak, intimacy with another man wasn’t the priority. Though that had been over four years ago and she was well over the situation, she could admit that while it was difficult to maintain her self-control, not having to worry about anyone’s snot-nosed son brought more peace than she could ever imagine.

“Even more of a reason to let it happen. Everything happens better when you have a solid foundation first. Everybody thinks you two are together anyways. He truly cares for you, in more ways than one.”

Anvika hummed and rolled her eyes as she brought the slender champagne fluke to her full lips. The liquid went smooth down her throat. She shrugged. “Then let them think that. Lewis is a good man, a good and attractive man, but…”

Her friend, Onyx, sighed and downed her drink with a wave of her hand. “I don’t know how you do it! I would’ve lost my mind by now. I commend you.” Onyx bowed playfully which pulled a light laugh from Anvika. Though she was joking, she couldn’t help but sense the truth behind her words.

Though swearing off men and intimacy had become a more common practice among women, many people found it taboo and unrealistic. She soon began to ponder--what if she’d never find anyone that could give her what she wanted because of how she chose to navigate her dating life? She shook it off internally. That would be a problem, but none that would be hers.

Before she got the chance to respond, her phone rang against the glass table that held their expensive lunch on it’s back. LH flashed across the screen. She smiled softly which caught the attention of Onyx, who gave a teasing smirk. For someone who was insistant on keeping a strong boundary between herself and her closest friend, she surely smiled like a fool whenever he called.

“I told you I have a lunch date with Onyx today,” she reminded the racer lowly, using her index finger to draw doodles in the condensation her water glass sweat off on the table. “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, angel,” he spoke smoothly. “Just wanted to make sure you were still wanting to join me for the event on Friday.” Anvika hummed and nodded as though he could see her. He was attending a gala in London and of course, offered his plus-one to Anvika, as he had done since their friendship had begun years prior. What was his, was hers, including access to rooms and events that would grant her opportunities to further her career as a branding and marketing consultant.

“Yes,” she replied excitedly. “I still haven’t found a dress. What color are you wearing?”

There was shuffling in the background before he spoke again. “Blue. Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle it.” Her heart fluttered. “Enjoy your lunch. Tell Onyx I said hello and call me later, alright?”

Anvika’s teeth trapped her bottom lip. “Alright. Talk soon.”

“Bye, love.”

Anvika turned her phone on its face and looked up, catching Onyx’s playful eyes. Her thick eyebrow touched her forehead. “Friends, right?” Anvika gave her a look. Onyx raised her hands in defense, “My bad, my bad.”

Lewis Hamilton was a gentleman. Sure, this was universal knowledge, but something about him being gentlemanly with her made her heart flutter and her stomach clench with desire. And it almost made her question Onyx’s point, “he truly cares for you; in more ways than one.” It’d typically be something she’d deny, but as she stood in front of the mirror with her hair done by a hairstylist he arranged to come, her nails done by a nail technician he’d flown out, and a dress he arranged to be custom-made to suit her body, how could she deny it any longer?

“Don’t think too deeply into it,” she scolded herself, slipping out of her robe. She walked toward her dress, pulled it off the hanger, and carefully slipped into it. “You’re friends. Close friends who care for one another. That’s it, that’s all.”

They met at the paddock six years prior. She was invited to her first Formula One race through her consultant agency, which took her team on an all-expense paid trip for their hard work. She wasn’t aware of Formula One, just of familiar names. Then, at the end of the match, she had the chance to put a face to the infamous name of Lewis Hamilton.

“You raced well,” Anvika noted, taking in the slightly disheveled appearance of the raceman. “I’ve never been to a Formula One race; good job on giving me a reason to come back one day.”

The man’s eyebrow raised in interest. He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscular build on display. “Is that so?”

Anvika nodded.

“We can make that happen whenever you want.”

It was Anvika’s turn to raise an eyebrow. A smirk played on her lips. “Is that so? Tryna be my friend, Lewis?”

He shrugged his shoulders. Friends wasn’t too bad. Anything to get to know her. “Any man would be a fool to refuse that opportunity, Anvika.”

That marked the beginning of an inseparable union.

Anvika continued to mumble and grumble, doing whatever she could to keep her mind eased. Her self-conversations were halted by a knock on her door. Lewis. “Coming!” Holding her dress to her chest. She turned the doorknob, and the familiar scent of his cologne filled her nose. “Are you…oh. Oh.”

Closing the door behind him, Lewis’ eyes were trained on her, the most beautiful woman he’d laid eyes on. The dress, complementary to his suit, was perfectly designed and tailored to her. She was a fan of long-sleeved dresses, so that’s what she got. It was constructed with a heavy, luxurious velvet material and it hugged every riff, edge, and curve on her body. The neckline showed the swell of her breasts and her beautiful collarbone. The mermaid-like tail further accentuated her shape.

Her hair was parted to the side and curled to perfection. The makeup complimented her features--thick eyebrows, full lips, and a round nose. And her scent, goodness, it suffocated him. The jasmine and almond notes filled his nostrils and he wanted to nuzzle his face in her neck and inhale like she was the air he needed to breathe.

“You look beautiful,” Lewis managed to speak. His voice was so low that she almost didn’t hear his compliment. With a bashful smile, she thanked him and led him to her room where she wandered toward the bathroom, which had a series of jewels across the counter. “Help me pick a necklace?”

Anvika turned to face the jewelry and fought hard to ignore the heat that radiated from Lewis’ body as he moved to stand behind her. From over her shoulder, his eyes followed the line of jewels the stylists brought. His eyes landed on a silver necklace; a thin chain with a multi-carat teardrop diamond. “This one.”

Lewis took the necklace in his hands and placed it around her neck. Anvika lifted her hair to grant him easy access and shivered as his cool fingertips brushed against her skin. She inhaled deeply. “Stunning.” His breath was warm against her neck. They locked eyes in the mirror ahead of them. The tension was thick. Suffocating. His brown eyes, usually so full of love and warmth, were filled with something she couldn’t quite identify, but it made her body heat like wildfire.

“I’m ready,” she announced, careful not to let her voice waver. She turned, purposefully ignoring the groan he released when she brushed against him. Her lips quivered as she tried to give a steady smile. What the hell was happening between them? Anvika placed her hands on his chest and soothed the non-existent wrinkles on his suit jacket. He was so handsome. “You look great, darling.”

“Thank you…” his words came out as a whisper. He was too distracted by her. Six years of friendship and what he felt from the time he met her at the paddock all those years ago had reached a breaking point. He’d boiled over.

Anvika tried to smile as she pressed a kiss against his cheek, but with how he reacted, her lips landed at the corner of his lips. She took a step back. “Let’s get ready to go, yeah?”

Lewis swallowed thickly. He held his arm out for her, which she grabbed instinctively, and together, they were out the door with a million and one thoughts swimming between them.

“And that beauty you’ve brought?” an older man questioned Lewis, who had his eyes on Anvika as she danced through the siloes of people in the room. The gala was nothing short of a popularity function, a random event on a random weekend for the host to flaunt their money and connections, Truthfully, his desire to attend dwindled once he saw her in that dress. She was the only thing on his mind.

“Anvika Dawson,” Lewis said, nodding in her direction. “One of the best branding and marketing consultants in the industry. She’s amazing at everything she does. You’ve got a business, don’t you?” And that’s why he was a good friend, Anvika noted as she began to walk over, hearing him advocate for her in front of the man.

“You flatter me,” she said with a smile as she took a position under Lewis’ arm, which slid around her waist. “Anvika Dawson, nice to meet you.”

The older man, who had went by the nam Eli, shook her hand firmly and nodded in interest. “Well, pardon me, but the two of you would make a wonderful couple.” The young adult chuckled lightly; the comment was nothing new to them, but it seemed to bring them both discomfort given the fact that they had a very intimate moment just an hour before their arrival. Before Lewis could speak up, Anvika thanked the man sweetly then they were whisked in another direction.

They were joined together at the hip for the remainder of the evening. And, on the rare occasion that they were apart, they stole glances from across the room like teenagers in a romantic sitcom. Soon, the event wrapped up and they were in the backseat of the car, sitting in a thick silence.

Anvika sat at the right of the car, her knees turned inward and her legs crossed. With every bump in the road and swerve of the car, the tip of her heel brushed against Lewis’ leg. His breath hitched. She said nothing.

The car came to an abrupt stop and the doors were opened for them. Before her foot could touch the ground, Lewis’ hand was awaiting. “Thank you,” Anvika said softly, and allowed him to guide her into the hotel.

He still hadn’t said much. The walk to the elevator was quiet, yet, he hadn’t let go of her hand. What was he thinking about? If it was the sudden shift in their interactions, it didn’t go unnoticed by her either.

The elevator doors peeled open and Lewis guided her in. He pressed the button, 10, that would send them to the floor their rooms were on. The elevator ride seemed slow as each ding indicated they’d entered another floor.

Anvika cleared her throat and decided to speak up, “I enjoyed tonight. And again, you looked great. I love blue on you.”

He couldn’t remember what happened between her compliment, her back against the elevator wall, and his lips on hers. The only thing that forced him to key in was her hands pressing against his abdomen and his name falling from her lips. “Lewis…” What he’d heard time and time again in his dreams had finally become a reality. His stomach churned; could he get her to say it again? “What are you…” She cut herself off when she fell victim to the wonderful feeling of his lips against her jaw.

“I just…” Lewis settled his face in her neck. “One night, Vi. Let me have one night with you…” Her heart pounded in her ears. What the hell was happening?

“Lewis…” Her hand slipped and fell just above his belt. She extended her arm just slightly. “We can’t do this. I-I don’t want to mess up our friendship and you know I’m not going all the way with anyone--”

Lewis hummed. His eyes sat low as he looked at her. She looked completely worn out as if he’d done to her what he truly wanted. Her forehead glistened with sweat, her lipstick was smeared, and her chest heaved. “Nothing will change for the worse, angel. And I don’t want to go there with you, just want to make you feel good…always have.” His left arm circled around her waist and his large hand palmed her backside. She whimpered. “Can I?”

“Someone might see...”

He ignored her. “Can I make you feel good?” His tone was stern as he repeated his question. Suddenly, the gala was out of her mind and the only thing that clouded her thoughts was him. Him and him only. Lewis Hamilton had infiltrated her mind and she finally stopped fighting it.

The elevator dinged. “Yes…”

“Should I…?” her hands reached for the necklace that shone beneath the dim lights of the hotel suite. Lewis shook his head and peeled his jacket off his shoulders, revealing a crisp white wife beater. He shed that too. Anvika’s breath hitched. “Keep it on. Lay back for me, angel.”

Anvika looked like an angel surrounded by the comforter. Her undergarments were long discarded, save for her underwear which he kept in the pocket of his pants. The pure white of the sheets were a stark contrast to the richness of her complexion. Her hair was sprawled against the pillow with a few strands covering her face lazily. The look on her face was one of comfort, relief in one way or another.

She welcomed Lewis’ body between her legs as he crawled on the bed and his lips against hers as he hovered above her. For the first time that night, Anvika’s hands didn’t tremble when she touched him. She welcomed the feeling of every ridge of muscle, every raised scar, and every mature tattoo.

Their hands moved frantically over each other’s body, and it felt amazing. She hadn’t realized how touch deprived she was until she heard his chuckle in her ear. Her face warmed. She felt like a teenager. “It’s okay…” his lips ghosted against the shell of her ear. “Make all the noise you want.”

Anvika didn’t respond--her mouth wouldn’t allow her to. As Lewis moved down her body, she sat on her elbows, watching and waiting. God, he was so handsome like this. His head was dipped between her thighs and his tattooed glistened under the dim lights. Slowly, he lips created an intentional trail from her belly down to the treasure just centimeters away from his mouth.

Her fingers clawed at the bedsheets as the anticipation rose. She was becoming impatient. He was giving attention to every other place except where he wanted her. She huffed. “Lewis…”

He hummed, clearly unbothered by her frustration. He glanced at her, “Yes?” She whimpered. “Talk to me.” He was amused, very amused. She was desperate for him. It was evident by the way her arousal seeped onto the bed. He gathered some on his fingers, using it as a lubricant as he finally began to touch her.

Anvika gasped. His movements were slow and meticulated but they were enough to set her over the edge. He brought his lips to hers again, which she accepted sloppily. Her jaw fell slack as he continued to work her to her first release of the night. It came quickly, quicker than she would have liked. When his fingers hit that spot within her, her hips jerked and she squeaked his name.

Lewis chuckled, “That’s it?” He prodded that spot again. “Right there?” Anvika nodded. He removed his fingers. She groaned in frustration, “Lewis, please!”

“Please what?” He brought his fingers to his lips and moaned at the taste of her on his tongue. If this was just the beginning, he couldn’t imagine how mad he’d go in the coming moments. “Tell me what you want.”

She clocked it. He wanted her to beg. Anvika wasn’t the begging type. She may have been far removed from having sex, but she always got her way, especially with Lewis. Her hands trailed down the muscular planes of his stomach. Her fingers hooked in his belt and pulled him forward. Her fingers curled around his neck and her nails toyed with the faded hair there. She brought her smeared lips to his ear, her tongue dancing against the shell of it. He shudder. “I want you to make my legs shake and rock my world. Can you do that, Lewis?”

Her voice. The way her voice dropped in octave but increased in seduction had his head spinning. There were a few moments of silence as he fought hard to gather himself and the more she spurred him on, the most difficult it became. But then, she heard it, “Yes…”

“Right there, right there! Oh my…” He was a lover of music. Being in a studio, creating melodies to go with lyrics, was his favorite pastime. But this took the cake. She created her a song better than he could have ever imagined, and was it addicting.

Her moans, cries, and screams were melodic and his name was the only lyric she knew. He hated repetition in music, but loved hearing hers. So addicting. So well created. So beautiful.

Her legs trembled around his head and her hands were buried in his braids. He fought the urge to bend her over when she whispered out the faintest, “Baby, please…” She’d used terms of endearment before, but in this context, it was different. “I’m close!”

Her body, damp with sweat and covered in bruises created by his mouth, jumped and jolted as she grew closer to her peak. Lewis sat up, replacing his tongue with his highly skilled fingers. He used his arm to stabilize his body as he hovered over her. What a sight.

Her hair was completely sweated out, pooped and frizzy at the roots. Her makeup stained the pillows and her lips were swollen from her biting and his intense kisses. Her neck was dark with love bites. Her eyelids were hooded but he could see the fire behind her eyes. If only he could capture her and keep the picture in his pocket forever.

“Doing so well for me,” he whispered, kissing against her cheek and jaw. His fingers made quick work of the huddle of nerves between her legs. “Taking it like a good girl.” Her moans grew louder, higher in pitch, and full of air. It was becoming too much—her hands pushed against his arm, trying to run. “Don’t run now. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Lewis, I’m—“ she cut herself off with a high pitched scream that seemed to ring on forever. Lewis chuckled lightly and worked her through her orgasm. “That’s it, baby.” Her body shook as she tried to come down calmly.

He spent a few minutes between her legs, caressing her gently as an act of comfort. Her loud noises had diminished to soft whimpers as she came down from cloud nine. When she finally opened her eyes again, he asked, “You okay?”

She was better than okay. Though they didn’t cross all the lines, Anvika had gotten the best orgasm she’d received in her life from a man’s mouth and hands. She’d deal with the consequences later, but in that moment, she felt amazing.

She nodded and smiled lazily. “I’m okay. Are you…do you want me to…?” Her eyes fell to the evident bulge that strained against his pants. He shook his head.

“I’m okay. Let’s get you cleaned up…”

What was supposed to be a shower to clean her up resulted in her on her knees giving him the most intense release he’d experienced in months. It left him panting, shaking, and whimpering like it was his first time all over again.

Once again, she looked angelic with her now curly hair flat against her back and big brown eyes staring at him as she worked him like the expert she was. He came in her with with a groan, his fingers in her hair. She stood to her feet, smiling innocently as she showed him there was no remnant of him left in her mouth.

“You’re nasty,” he announced, grabbing her jaw to place a sloppy kids on her lips.

“Mhmmm, just the way I like it.”

They migrated to her bed shortly after, laying together in a comfortable silence. Anvika’s head was against his bare chest and herfingers traced the tattoos on his body. Lewis’ arm was around her waist and his hand massaged her plump bottom.

They were tired, exhausted even. But, they fought sleep like children, internally afraid of what the morning would bring. All actions had consequences whether good or bad. It was a mutual hope that what they’d done wouldn’t bring on the latter.

“Lewis?” Anvika called after some time.

“Yes, angel?”

“Are we gonna be okay?” Her voice trembled slightly. They’d crossed a line--a big one. She had wobbled on her boundaries. There was a lot to discuss and a lot to consider. It was an amazing experience, she couldn’t lie, but her biggest fear was that she’d lose him as an important person in her life if reality didn’t set in the way they intended.

Lewis gave her a squeeze and brought his lips to her forehead. Sensing her worry, he reassured, “We’ll always be okay.” And she believed it.

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #original writing #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #f1 x black!reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one #formula 1

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thecupidwitch · 2 months

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Planetary Magick🌙

Sun

Zodiac: Leo

Metal: Gold

Day: Sunday

Colors: organge, yellow, amber

Stones: Amber, topaz, ruby, diamond

Tarot: The Sun

Herbs: Angelica, poppy, sunflower, marigold, hibiscus, mistletoe

Symbols: lion, hexagram, sparrow hawk, dragon, head, heart, swan

Influences: renown, potency, fortune, tyranny, pride, ambition, masculinity, arrogance, bigotry, vitality, health

Moon

Zodiac: cancer

Metal: sliver

Day: Monday

Colors: blue, sliver

Stones: moonstone, pearl

Tarot: The High Priestess, The Chariot

Herbs: eucalyptus, coconut, jasmine, lotus, myrrh, sandalwood

Symbols: bow and arrow, crab, cat, turtle, Sphinx, owl

Influences: gradtitufe, friendliness, safe, travel, physical health, wealth, protection for enemies, deception, illusion, women, emotions, healing, dreams

Mercury

Zodiac: Virgo, Gemini

Metal: aluminum, Mercury

Day: Wednesday

Colors: violet, gray, purple, indigo, yellow

Stones: opal agate

Tarot: The Lovers

Herbs: hyssop, juniper, betony, carrot, chickweed

Symbols: wand, octagram, the mind

Influences: good fortune, gratitude, gain, memory, understanding, divination, dreams, forgetfulness, communication, business, cleverness, creativity, information, intellect, memory, perception, science, wisdom, gambling, writing, root of dishonesty, deception

Venus

Zodiac: taurus, libra

Metal: copper

Day: Friday

Colors: green, pink

Stones: turquoise, emerald, sapphire, jade

Tarot: The Empress

Herbs: jimsonweed, violet, rose, alder, apple, angelica, olive, sesame

Symbols: sparrow, dove, swan, pentagram

Influences: peace, agreements, cooperation, fertility, joy, love, good fortune, jealousy, strife, promiscuity

Mars

Zodiac: aries, scorpio

Metal: iron, red brass, steel

Day: Tuesday

Color: Red

Stones: ruby, garnet, bloodstone, diamond

Tarot: The Tower

Herbs: ginger, mustard

Symbols: sword, pentagram, horse, bear, wolf, vulture

Influences: war, victory, judgements, submission of enemies, bleeding, stripping one of rank, harness, discord, conflict, aggression, lust, power, courage, goals, protection, motivation, ambition, strength

Jupiter

Zodiac: pisces, sagittarius

Metal: tin

Day: Thursday

Colors: blue

Stone: sapphire

Tarot: The Wheel of Fortune

Herbs: balm, hyssop, maple leaf and bark, oak, sage, dandelion root

Symbols: eagle, dolphin

Influences: gains, riches, favor, peace, cooperation, appeasing enemies, dissolving

Saturn

Zodiac: capricorn

Metal: lead

Day: Saturday

Color: black

Stone: onyx

Taror: The World

Herbs: alder, apple, ash, asparagus, baneberry, belladonna, distort, hellebore, blackthorn, corm, cypress

Symbols: cuttlefish, mole

Influences: safety, power, success, positive response to requests, intellect, causes discord, strips honor, melancholy

Uranus

Zodiac: aquarius

Day: Thursday

Colors: blue-green, electric blue

Stones: quartz, labradorite, blue topaz, amber, amethyst, garnet, diamond

Tarot: The Fool

Herbs: clover, pokeweed, snowdrop, foxglove, love, rosemary, trees of heaven, hellebore, morning glory, sage, wintergreen, orchids, sweet woodruff

Symbols: dragonfly, butterfly

Influences: breaking connection, sudden and unexpected change, freedom, originality, radical and revolutionary ideas, enlightenment, equality, individuality, rebellion, instability, loneliness, boredom, mistrust of self

Neptune

Zodiac: pisces

Minerals: coral, aquamarine, platinum, neptunium

Colors: green, blue, lavender

Tarot: The Hanged Man

Herbs: morning glory, night-blooming jasmine, pine, water lily

Symbols: the sea, Trident, the spine

Influences: dissolving boundaries, expanding upon ideas, changing established rules, intuition, idealism, sacrifice, glamour, illusion, evolution, decay, visions, art, healing, inspiration, dreams, creativity, compassion, drifting from reality, carelessness, stubbornness, absent mind

Pluto

Zodiac: scorpio

Metal: plutonium, tin chrome, steel

Day: Tuesday

Colors: maroon, dark red, purple, white, black

Stones: snowflake obsidian, clack tourmaline

Tarot: Judgement

Herbs: pomegranate, rosemary, vanilla, basil, poppies, belladonna, foxglove

Symbols: Phoenix, snake, scorpion, fox, eagle

Influences; destruction making way for renewal, rebirth, knowledge, spirituality, transformation, destiny, the subconscious, desire, arrogance, death, obsession, destruction

#thecupidwitch #witchcraft #planetary magic #witchblr #witchcore #witches #witch community #witch #grimoire #spellwork #spirituality

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53v3nfrn5 · 12 days

Text

The firm of Louis Cartier fashioned this pendent watch of diamonds, jade, onyx, and sapphires; it hangs from a diamond-encrusted bow. Art Deco. Era (1900s)

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thecoochiefairy · 1 month

Text

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞

━━ 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑝ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑦 .ᐟ getou + gojo.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 9.7K word count. sex in a church, priests getou + gojo, talks of religion; catholic/christianity. third person omniscient pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough sex, sweet sex, hair pulling, squirting,creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, masturbation, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, a lil degrading, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, aggressive + cocky getou + gojo, minors aren’t welcome!

song to play while listening; 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 ; 𝑑𝑜𝑗𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑡

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ ; surprise ;) once again, dedicated to my life, my love, my soulmate @hellavile . a lil’ fun fact, i am a christian girlie. but…i just couldn’t help myself. enjoy.

SITTING THROUGH THIS ENTIRE SERVICE WASN’T ON HER TO-DO LIST. YET, SHE FELT STUCK IN HER SEAT. Her eyes trail along the crowded room, seeing heads are bowed as they intimately whisper to themselves, guiding their own sense of mind in devotion to them. Not necessarily them, but at least that’s how she perceived it.

She feels like she’s the only person that isn’t taking this time to pray. Shit, she might be. Instead her eyes stare directly to the stage of the cathedral, eyeing the two men who seem to lead this congregation. She had been here only a handful of times, seating herself in the back as she curiously listened to sermons, wondering if they’d even stick with her. They hadn’t. She wanted to understand why such powerful words wouldn’t berate her mind outside of this building. Maybe she truly wasn’t a believer. Or maybe she was just distracted…by them.

She eyes them one by one. The one standing to the left stares stoically into the crowd with his darkly hooded eyes, pale skin and onyx hair longer than she could imagine. It was elegantly tied into a low bun today, a tendril of it separating from the group with his every movement. He’s covered in an all black suit, her eyes noticing the ink that swims beneath the wrists of his blazer, crawling all the way to his neck, hiding beneath the material of his clothes. A pair of tiny silver balls sink into his right eyebrow, a piercing she wouldn’t assume to be on a man of his stature. His eyebrows are constantly furrowed when he looks around, an almost disdain to his face.

They were like night and day standing next to each other. On the right, his calm expression seems more welcoming. His eyebrows don’t furrow as he stares, icy blue eyes striking into her chest without his attempt. His hair is as light as angels wings. His body is clean of any marking or holes, frame captured in a matching black suit. They were complete opposites. Another thing she noticed, despite the innocent physical stature of this man, a mischievous glint sat in those captivating eyes. More mischievous than a tattooed and pierced-man could ever hold.

It constantly piqued her own curiosity on why anytime she came here that instead of listening to them speak, she just watched the way they moved. It was a confidence, a leadership that clearly brought people together. A dominance. She wondered if they were dominant in other parts of their life, too. As she brings herself out of her thoughts, she notices two pairs of eyes have taken attention of her, regardless of being all the way in the back. She brings her eyes back down to her notes.

Members begin to exit as they’re released from service, her eyes following the line of people that stand.

“All new members are welcomed to meet the Priest,” a voice announces from the side of the stage. Her attention pulls back to the podium they stand beside, shaking people’s hands, kissing babies, she could’ve rolled her eyes. They were like celebrities.

There were multiple opportunities for her to meet the leaders of the church, but to risk the embarrassment of admitting that she was instantly enthralled by them, she would quickly duck her head out minutes before everyone was released. But she knew in order to strengthen her relationship with god—the whole reason she was here—she needed to stop being a wuss.

Gathering the miniature Bible and her notebook, she keeps them in one hand as she picks her dress slightly off of the ground, standing as the last person in line. The line had now shortened as everyone was beginning to leave, her head turning back in hopes that she really wouldn’t be the last person. Her luck was also shit.

She takes a deep breath as she lifts her stiletto heel onto the stage, bringing her face to meet the two men she thought so much of. They were just as intimidating up close. They both stare intensely at her, starting from her heels, to the black long sleeve top she wears that clings to her full breast and small waist. A pair of wide hips and an elongated torso are camouflaged underneath her snug black skirt.

As she strides up to them, her equally onyx hair is in an updo, a pink butterfly keeping it clipped together. A thick piece is curled and flowing on the side of her face with every step she takes. They both take in her curvy figure, following all the way up to her heart shaped lips, star shaped diamond pierced within her face, nose ring shining in the light. She definitely wasn’t anyone they’d seen before.

Her almond shaped eyes sparkle at them as she places her hand out, “That was a great sermon, Father,” She lies.

A tattooed hand reaches out and takes hers within his larger palm as he replies, “I appreciate that. And your name is?”

“Solana,” she replies softly. Her eyes come down as she sees he hadn’t released her hand yet.

“Beautiful. It fits you,” he observes, she’s not sure it’s a compliment as he remains serious, “Are you a new member? You don’t look like a familiar face.”

“Uh…not necessarily a member as of yet. I’m just…scouting for a new church,” She corrects, still seeing he’s holding her hand, “I’m a bit surprised to see that the Priests are so…young. I didn’t catch your names.”

He finally releases her hand, blue eyes twinkling beside him in amusement as he then joins the conversation, “Suguru’s two years older than me. Meaning he’s old. I’m young, I’m Satoru,” he takes her hand, his grip more softer than Suguru’s.

“Father Satoru?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Not yet, I’m mentoring him. For now he’s a Deacon, but most of the people in the church refer to him as Father Satoru,” Suguru replies, ignoring Satoru’s age comment.

“Oh, so you’re the one that runs this place?” She questions.

“With an iron fist,” Satoru interrupts. Suguru looks over at him with a slightly annoyed scrunch to his face.

“My father was in charge before me. It was passed down sooner than I thought due to him becoming sick,” Suguru explains, “What did you like about the sermon?”

“Tell him what’s in your notes,” Satoru points out. Solana looks over to him, hating that she was intuitive about the mischief in those damn eyes. She chuckles.

“It wasn’t much. Nothing to really tell,” she explains, keeping her attention to Suguru.

“Tell me then. I’m curious,” he prods.

Shit. Honestly, she was just being polite. She didn’t want her first introduction to be playing Devil’s Advocate.

She then speaks, “Well…your topic today was the temptation of lust. A constant debate of whether it’s someone’s true test of keeping their vows to god—I’d say people are just human with helpless desires,” She recites, “You see, I’m trying to build a personal relationship with him. Coming to church was a mere curiosity. I had a feeling that some things being said I wouldn’t necessarily agree with, hence me taking notes.”

Suguru’s eyebrows raise in mild surprise, “So I’m assuming you’re not entirely a believer, then?”

“Trying to be, Father,” she corrects briefly, “It’s just hard. Some things seem entirely unrealistic…I don’t mean to be nosey, but looking at all the work you have on your body that seems to travel beneath your clothes, there was a time you weren’t entirely a believer either, was there?”

Satoru grins, Suguru now raising a single eyebrow. It didn’t shock him for her astuteness.

“Sorry…” she mutters, a small smile on her lips, “I come from a time where church was extremely small-minded and traditional. To see you and all of your physical differences from a regular Priest, it’s just a bit shocking. May I ask, how do the older members perceive you?”

She then wants to face palm herself as she hears her own words. Solana curses, “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I mean—crap—I mean— I was just referring to your tattoos and piercings,” she mutters.

“You seem more fascinated by my appearance rather than the sermon itself, Solana,” he calls her full name, wanting her attention.

“‘Fascinated’ wouldn’t be the word, perhaps, bewitched? Beguiled?” Satoru taunts.

“None of the above. But I’d say you’re a bit presumptuous, Father Satoru?” She mockingly replies.

“Would you rather I use the word curious, then?” Suguru asks.

“I could just be a curious person in general. Maybe I’m just bored, don’t assume too much about me,” Solana shrugs, “Plus, isn’t curiosity a sin within the Bible?”

His dark eyes pierce into hers. “Hm. That’s true, I shouldn’t assume. But curiosity is a virtue, not a sin. Though I imagine members in my congregation might disagree. I’ll have to bring that up in the next service.”

She tilts her head, “Seems like I might miss that service, then. I don’t recall agreeing to come back…” she thinks to herself.

“Cute,” Satoru eyes her up and down, “You’ll be back.”

“‘Shed light on the proud, haughty, and insolent behaviors that underlie arrogance,’” She recited, “Proverbs. Curiosity may be a virtue, but narcissism isn’t,” She speaks, referring to his assumptions of being captivated by him. Sure, damned her if she was. But he didn’t need to know that.

“The non-believer has read almost every inch of the Bible, it seems,” Suguru leans against the podium, his face twitching.

“…But then again, perhaps you’re merely trying to impress us. A girl as beautiful as you knows how to get your way,” Satoru adds.

“Is it working?” She then asks.

“Nah,” Suguru responds.

Solana raises her eyebrows, “‘Nah?’ Is the Priest off of the clock?”

“Talking to you? Might be, you’re trouble,” Satoru replies.

“Says the unorthodox Priest and his vexing Deacon.”

Satoru puts his hand over his chest, “Offensive.”

“You and Satoru gonna’ keep flirting or are you gonna hand me that notebook of yours?” Suguru asks, Solana bringing her eyes back to him.

“Mmm, I won’t. I have to get going soon and prepare for work.”

“Where do you work?” Satoru asks.

“I work from home. I’m a Cam Girl,” She calmly responds. When the both of them have frowns come upon their face, she looks between the two as she continues, “You know, the ones that take their clothes off and—“

“Alright.”

“I’m aware of what it is.”

They both say this at the same time, Solana amused at their dismissiveness. She’s surprised at how open the conversation is, even with their hierarchy, they make her feel as comfortable as possible. They felt like two male friends in the span of one conversation. The thing was, she didn’t want them as just friends.

“Clock in, do what you gotta do. But you’ll be here again next service with a new set of notes for me, I expect you to pay attention to my sermon. I’m a bit impatient. Cool?” Suguru asks.

“But—“

“Good,” Satoru cuts her off, “Welcome, member.”

“I never agreed—“

“Who asked?” Suguru questions. Satoru shrugs his shoulders.

Solana looks between the two men, silver crosses around their necks, a facade they played all too well in front of everyone else. This was the first time in her life that she didn’t have a man wrapped around all of her fingers, instead she was wrapped in each of theirs.

“Fine,” She doesn’t argue, pressing her hands behind her back. She can feel her face becoming warm.

“Huh,” Satoru crosses his arms, light hair swaying as he tilts his head to look at her.

“What?” She asks.

“To be this… ‘Cam Girl’ you mentioned, I’m assuming you’re usually the one in control. But now you seem…so submissive,” Suguru observes. The intensity in his eyes was something she didn’t see in Satoru’s. This man was much harder to read.

“We make her nervous,” Satoru states, not questions.

Her mouth goes slightly agape as they ricochet off of each other. She has no time to reply or find a smart-ass comeback. She can’t help but become a little irritated with this newfound characteristic of herself—intimidation. She puts on a fake smile as she nods her head towards the both of them, turning as she makes her way down the aisle towards the exit.

“We’ll be waiting for those notes, Solana,” Satoru calls.

“He’ll be waiting. I expect them in my hand,” Suguru finalizes, she doesn’t notice his eyes falling down to her ass.

She hoped that these two would be the complete opposite of what she imagined them to be before their meeting. Angelic, innocent, pure. But as she spoke with them, watching as they observed her every move, and told her what she was going to do, she seemed to be wrong. Devilish, guilty, impure. To make matters worse, she was going to do exactly what was asked of her. Motherfuckers.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

A couple of weeks had gone by. It was the same routine, sitting in the back of the service as she listened to Suguru preach, taking her own interpretations of his words. She noticed the brief looks he’d give over to her. Satoru winked. As service ended she would politely speak to the both of them as she handed Suguru her notes, unable to fully make eye-contact. Here was the issue. The first time she saw them, all she could think was how badly she wanted them to fuck her. She thought it was a mere attraction. But as every interaction surpassed, the thought became worse. Was she losing her mind?

She was coming to know the two men that everyone adored. As she wished that she only adored them, she felt cursed with vivid dreams and fantasies she couldn’t rid herself of. Every time she looked at Suguru’s perfect face, long onyx hair, gauges in his ears, eyebrow piercing. The tattoos that hid beneath his clothes. Satoru’s light hair and cocky-son-of-a-bitch smirk. On the other hand, her reactions weren’t something that went unnoticed. The sudden flush of her cheeks intrigued them as they noticed her out of the corner of their eye.

She wasn’t like the other women that swooned over them, falling victim to their charms without any fight. She had always kept an arms length from the two, seemingly unaffected by their charisma and allure that drew others to them so easily. At least she pretended well enough.

They could sense her hesitation, the slight quiver of her bottom lip as they watched her from the front. She always kept her gaze away from them, eyes focused elsewhere.

A shiver came down her spine anytime Suguru shook her hand, the thought of that hand slamming down against her ass as he spanked her. Anytime Satoru looked her in the eyes, she imagined him staring down at her as she moaned in pleasure beneath him. Anytime they both spoke to her, she could hear them within her ear, whispering dirty blasphemies. She’d seen handsome men before. Why the hell were they so hard to remove from her mind? It had to be the forbidden fact that they were the church's chairmen, and she was only a member. It aroused her.

They noticed with more interaction that she distanced herself farther. The way her eyes always darted away, the flush in her face. She was always so…hesitant and reserved.

These qualities made her all the more enticing, Satoru found her obedience adorable. Suguru was losing his patience.

Nonetheless, every interaction showed how completely opposite they were. There were times that she assumed Suguru was the least bit interested, but then she would notice the looks he gave her. Like a predator patiently awaiting for its prey to look away before it made its attack. Satoru spoke with confidence, offering his hand when Solana was too afraid to reach out for it. But she couldn’t lie, there was a sense of arrogance to him. A cockiness where he knew the things she was feeling. Almost as if he could read her every thought.

As another service ended, she stood behind a group of women that spoke to them, waiting for her turn. They all turned towards her, eyes wicked and wanting to drain life from her presence. Just like they stared, she raised an eyebrow as she stared back, turning her head and watching until they walked out of the door.

“The hell are they looking at?” She twists her head.

“Solana,” Suguru calls, an irritation to his tone.

“Oh. Okay. The fuck,” she muttered to herself, apologizing in her head for the curse. She then brushes off the interaction as she speaks, “Good morning, I was just bringing my notes to you, Father. Didn’t mean to send away your groupies.”

“Groupies?” Suguru repeats.

“I’d say more devoted members,” Satoru corrects.

“Same difference. They all have more than one way of getting on their knees for either of you,” She fires politely.

Satoru raises his eyebrows, “Someone sounds jealous.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she turns her head back to Suguru. He noticed the way her dress clung tightly to her frame, the subtle way it emphasized her hips. The way it highlighted her figure was almost distracting, almost intoxicating. He fought back the urge to stare, to ogle, to fantasize...

“How are you today?” She asks him.

His eyes flickered for a moment with amusement. She was so different from the rest of the women who came to this church. Instead of replying, he tilted his head to the side and took in a few seconds before shrugging. "I feel fine." he spoke, his voice still rich with annoyance. But there would be no breaking his poise, no cracking his self-assured exterior.

Although at times she couldn’t stand Satoru’s more extroverted character, she sometimes wished Suguru was a little more open with her. It frustrated her as he was always short, but his eyes told something different.

“Good,” she replied softly. She then pulled her notes from the pages between her Bible, lifting her hand out to him.

He reached out to take the pages from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers. He noticed how her hands trembled slightly as if she were nervous, how the tips of her fingers were lightly stained black from the ink. His glance scanned the room filled with his congregation, people chatting away with one another, exchanging pleasantries as they exited the church. But he couldn't help his gaze, constantly drifting back to Solana.

“I apologize for my indignation, Father,” Solana shakes her head.

"No need to apologize." he spoke. And for a split second, another hint of amusement crosses his face as he notices her blush reemerging after she offers an apology. It was always so innocent, that flush of red on her cheeks, almost comparable to a little girl.

He couldn't help himself from wondering whether she was truly as timid as she seemed on the outside.

“I…what’s so funny?” She asks, realizing as he looks to be entertained.

“Your…covetousness…it’s cute,” Satoru replies.

“Nothing,” Suguru says.

He wanted to reprimand her for the foul mouth she had, imagining how red her face would be if he slammed his palm against it, gripping her chin as his dick shoved into her mouth. None of that appeared on his expression.

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you guys at the next service,” she nods, keeping her eyes away from him. This time as she stared at them, all she could see was Suguru taking her against the podium, her screams filling the cathedral as Satoru held her face, cockily grinning at her demise. She swallowed as she turned around, quickly walking away.

Suguru watched her leave, his eyes following the subtle sway of her hips as she walked. It made him want to grasp and hold onto her. A vision of him grabbing her by the arm and dragging her back to the church made itself prominent in his mind, his voice whispering all of the things he’d do to her. Yet as always, it was just a vision.

But his eyes still lingered on her.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

Another week had gone by as she sat towards the back of the church. Her mind continued to run with images of Suguru and Satoru, just wanting to feel their lips against hers. This service they wore identical short sleeved turtlenecks and their usual cross necklaces, Suguru showing off the numerous tattoos down his arms, Satoru’s arms bulging through his top. She imagined those arms holding her up as they thrusted into her. The minute their eyes followed over to hers, she flew them back down.

They took notice of the way her gaze continued to dart away each time they looked in her direction, seemingly fearful. It was a far cry from the way the other women looked at them. In fact, it was almost as if she avoided their gaze on purpose.

She needed to do something about this. It felt like a sickness in the mind at this point, no medicine curable for her disease. As their usual routine played out, she handed Suguru her notes as he brushed his fingers against her hand, chills coming down her spine. The way her body responded to simple physical touches made him want to see what else he could do to crack her. His eyes watched as she darted away from them once again, he was becoming more and more agitated by her timidity. Satoru shook his head as he chuckled, Suguru making a mental note that the next time he wouldn't be so easy to dismiss her.

When she made it home that night, she forced herself to get dressed and do her makeup, planning a scheme as she made her way to the bar. She planned to erase them away with a good one night stand, twisting her drink in her hand as she stared over the crowd of tipsy eyes. She then found herself the perfect victim, a handsome smile seductive as he watched her.

She didn’t have it in herself for the small talk, or to waste any time. Their clothes shredded off as they fumbled into Solana’s condo, kissing messily as they landed on the bed. As she expected a full amount of pleasure to fulfill her, this random stranger rushed through the entire interaction. He pulled a condom out of his pocket, ripping the packaging harshly with his teeth. His lips against her neck felt sticky, attacking her throat in a way that was almost painful. She spread her legs as she awaited for him to bring his mouth lower.

He scrunches his face as he asks, “What?”

She frowns, “You aren’t gonna….?”

“Oh—nah, I don’t do that shit. I don’t really know you like that,” He responds, almost laughing at her question. She coughs as he then flips her body over to where she’s on her stomach, pressing her face into the sheet as he slides on his condom.

Before he continues he then asks, “I’m a little soft. Wanna give me some head?”

“Um, no?” She muffled through the blanket.

“Whatever,” he smacks his lips.

She hopes that the sex might cause them to create a better chemistry, awaiting for that incoming pleasure as he’s inside of her. This is all she needed, it would rid her of the annoying thoughts of Suguru and Satoru. As she thinks this, an overload of pain shreds through her lower abdomen as he enters her, realizing that she’s barely aroused. Even in the times that she wasn’t fully aroused, she’d be soaked at the thought of incoming pleasure. Not this time.

He pushes her head into the blanket as he thrusts wildly, giving her no air to breathe or even intake any type of pleasure—if there even was any. She grits her teeth as she tries to adjust herself, yet he grips her in place as he hastens, “Chill. Chill. You’re gonna fuck up my groove.”

She turns her head slightly as she tries to stare at him, his arms keeping her held down as he asks, “You like that?”

“Mhmmmm…” she responded, releasing a fake moan for him.

She closed her eyes as she became angry. All she could think about was Father Suguru and Satoru…

Before the blink of an eye, she suddenly hears the man behind her shout, “Oh, Sasha!” releasing within the condom he wears, pulling himself out as quickly as he went in. Bastard. She had told him her name.

She was frustrated beyond belief. The entire night had been unfulfilling, the way this random man had touched and kissed her was almost laughable when compared to the fantasies she had. His scent was uninspiring, his touch lacked a certain warmth. This man was boring, mundane, and unsatisfying. Her mind was elsewhere, all she could think about was Suguru. His smell, his voice and his touch. Then she thought about Satoru. She wished it was him instead of this random man who grunted above her.

The man's grunts and moans were almost amusing to her, but the sound of his snoring even more so as he collapsed against the bed, knocking out beside her. In all honesty, the man was more of a nuisance than anything. She didn’t even have the energy to kick him out as she turned over on her back, staring up into the ceiling as she continued to create those fantasies in her mind. She tried to relax, but his snoring filled her bedroom, drowning out any other noise.

Her mind began to flicker images again. She closed her eyes as she imagined the both of them crawling onto the bed with her, hands all along her body. She slowly brought her hand down between her legs, bringing a finger over her clit as she rubbed softly, biting down on her mouth as a small sense of pleasure rippled through her. She was always good at making herself cum, but tonight was like no other. She couldn’t finish. She wanted to throw a tantrum, banging her fists along the sheets of her bed. She turned on her side, hoping sleep would be better than any of this bullshit.

Waking up the next morning, she turns over as she sees this man still asleep in her bed, hoping he went into cardiac arrest. She relaxes within her sheets, assuming it was still early in the morning. As she picks up her phone to set her alarm, she sees it’s an hour after eleven. Her body springs up. She curses, “Shit! I’m late for church.”

She pushes the man out of her house, locking the door and blocking his number as she speeds to get ready. Solana pulls her hair into a claw clip, unable to have the patience to style it. A navy blue long sleeve clings to her upper body, yoga pants and matching heels, pulling her glasses over her face as she’s too impatient to put on her contacts. She grabs for her Bible and notebook, speeding out of the house and towards the church, hoping she’d make it in time.

She felt like a child in trouble. Sneaking her way into the crowd as she stands in the back, keeping her head down as she sees that everyone else has their head down in prayer. As she raises her eyes, she sees both Suguru and Satoru sitting on stage as another member speaks to the crowd. They immediately stare over her.

Their gaze locked onto her as she entered the church late, having somehow missed the sermon in its entirety. They looked almost…disappointed. But it had nothing to do with her punctuality.

Everyone begins to walk in different directions as service ends. She also realizes that she has no notes to give Suguru today as she awaits to speak with him. When she walks up to him, she immediately begins to apologize, “I’m sorry for my lateness, Father.”

His gaze was like a hawk. He said nothing as she apologized, instead he watched her lips move as she spoke, admiring the way they moved, how they'd look covered with his.

"That's alright" he finally spoke, his voice a deep and seductive rasp, "Don't worry about it, though I'm curious, what were you doing that kept you so late?"

“You haven’t missed a sermon since we officially met you,” Satoru points out, arms crossed over his chest.

“I was up a bit late last night watching tv, overslept. Indulgence, I suppose, Father,” she briefly explains.

She places a flyaway hair behind her ear that falls from her ponytail, wondering why a couple of members stare at her weirdly. She had never noticed the large hickey that was upon her neck, or that the stranger she’d slept with had given her one.

Suguru raises an eyebrow at this excuse. His eyes drift to the blotched spot on her neck, Satoru shaking his head. He noticed the way she fidgets nervously, taking in the fact that she hadn't noticed the mark herself. The look of slight amusement and disappointment were once again evident on his features.

"You were up late… watching tv,” Suguru repeated back to her, mocking her excuse.

She looks around, confused in everyone's eyes. “….Yes, Father,” she nodded, softly responding.

"Ah, I see..." Satoru’s smile widens, "And what was it that you were watching on tv that kept you up?”

His gaze remained locked on hers, his tone shifting to teasing and playful. She wanted to punch him.

“Documentary. Very uh…informational?” She tries to find her words, gripping the notebook in her hand.

“Very informative, huh?” Suguru questions.

“Why so many damn questions?” She becomes irritated, seeing they’re now playing with her.

Satoru shrugs, “Boredom peaks curiosity,” He reminds.

In reality they were just trying to tease her, to make her squirm as she tried to lie. There was definitely no documentary she watched, that much they both knew.

“I suppose you don’t remember getting this as you watched your show, right?” Suguru asks, lifting his hand as he dragged his thumb along her throat. Solana’s mouth parted as she froze, realizing he was referring to a hickey.

“I…I don’t…”

“You d—don’t?” Satoru mocks.

She glares as she thrashes Suguru’s hand away from her. He pulls away, placing his hand behind his back.

“Your show didn’t seem too...satisfying” Satoru eyes, grinning.

Suguru’s gaze remained on her neck nonetheless, his eyes slowly wandering to her face as he waited for her response. Would she admit what really happened? She refused to give them the satisfaction.

“Nothing to say?” Suguru prods.

“No,” she quickly replies, feeling her body becoming hot. A mixture of anger and arousal fills her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch him, or fuck him. Maybe both.

“Fine. See you next time, then?” Satoru’s voice is sweet, more fake than anything.

As they begin to walk away from her, Solana closes her eyes. Embarrassing herself like this was enough to realize it was time to come clean, hoping this would rid her of all the vivid images of them. She just wanted them to stop. She places her own hand over her neck, remembering the hickey.

She squeezes her notebook harder as she states, “Wait, Father Suguru…I had a question for you.”

His expression shifted to one of curiosity, he could sense her sudden nervousness in speaking to him.

"Go ahead, what's the question?"

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I have something I need penitents of. Would you…be here later tonight for a confessional?” She questions.

The sudden question surprised him. He expected this game to continue. Yet, she had requested a confessional, a place where one could go to share their deepest and darkest secrets with a priest. It was obvious that what she was hiding more than sleeping with another man, there were darker things at play.

He nodded shortly, "I’ll be here. Satoru will be in the presence of his first confessional and listen in, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s…fine. That’s perfect, actually,” she nods.

“Perfect?” Satoru questions.

She realizes how she spoke. She wanted to kick herself. She then ignores the smile on his face as she speaks, “I will see you guys later then,” turning as she nearly runs out of the church.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

She stood in the mirror, staring at herself in her bathroom. Nightfall had come quicker than she hoped for it to, her heart swelling with fear of all the possibilities to come from this admission. Her midnight hair fell around her face, almost straight, still having a bit of body to it. She stared at the black dress she wore, turning in the mirror as her entire back was shown, washing her vision over the religious tattoo on her spine. Did it mean anything to her?

She slipped on her golden chromatic heels, hot pink irises seated atop of the thin straps. Her skin smelled of vanilla and a mixture of mint, always wanting to present herself with a sense of confidence. That confidence was nowhere to be found as of right now. Where had it gone?

All of these thoughts entered her mind as she drove down the road. What if she told them how she felt? Would she be banned from the church, shunned by the congregation? Declared as a personified sinner?

Unlike a regular church service, the entire cathedral is empty. The pews travel as far as the eye can see, walls a dimly lit champagne color. Her eyes fall to a mahogany wooden shed, two large crosses carved into the doors on both sides. It looked bigger than a regular confessional box. As she slid the door open to her side, she entered to see that it was big enough to fit almost five people, turning her head to see there was a large mirror across from where she would be seated.

As she looks through the wall that separates the two sides, she sees a pair of silhouettes, seeming as Suguru and Satoru are already there. Her heart beats faster.

She sits herself on the bench connected to the walls, bringing her eyes over her own reflection. Looking at herself suddenly makes her uncomfortable. She can see them on the other side, their eyes not facing her. It makes her feel less judged.

She asks, “May I know why my confessional has a mirror, Father?” She asks softly.

His silhouette moved as she spoke, the sound of her voice was more alluring than he had expected.

"The mirror is meant to allow you a clear view of yourself as you confess your sins. It’s intended to remind you to face yourself,” Suguru explains.

“Your face will be forced to stare directly at those sins as you speak of them. It’ll lead to self reflection,” Satoru adds.

She lets out a breath, nodding more to herself. Silence now fills the space, a tension she hadn’t expected to be so thick casts in between the wall separating the three.

“Speak your penitent,” Suguru’s deep voice demands.

A fear creeps up her spine. She couldn’t believe that she was actually doing this. Fuck it, she figured.

“Bless me, Father. For I have sinned…” she speaks, lightly crossing her hand over her chest.

Both Suguru and Satoru previously watched her as the confessional door slid open, watching her reflection as she sat inside, the dress she wears already making them think there was so much more to explore. They could only imagine what secrets hid under her loosely flowing hair, the tattoo on her back, and the way that dress draped off her form - highlighting the perfect curves of her body.

"Go ahead" Suguru spoke through the small slit in the confessional, his eyes gazing at her reflection in the mirror as he awaited her words.

“Right. Okay,” Solana takes another deep breath.

“Well…when you asked me about how my night went, I lied about what happened. I…had sex with a man I met at the bar…” she confesses softly.

“The sex was meaningless—and boring—if that’s appropriate to add. I thought that it would help me shake this feeling I’ve been having for a while. This…itch that I haven’t been able to scratch…”

Suguru listened. He didn't seem shocked, he didn't even seem disappointed—if anything he was unsurprised by it. As she mentioned the sex being meaningless and her inability to shake the "itch,” Satoru couldn't help the smirk that covered his lips.

They knew precisely what she was thinking yet stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue.

“I…” she breathed in, “Ever since I joined this congregation, I’d been having these…feelings. My mind filled itself with these vivid images and fantasies of sexual endeavors that become filthier as they continue, and I’ve been trying to parish them away. But…I can’t,” she speaks, unable to look into her reflection as she keeps her eyes against her lap, looking over to the wall that separates their bodies. She’s glad she can’t see them.

"Is there more that you want to confess?" Suguru spoke, his voice firm.

“Yes….” She spoke, “These…images, fantasies, I….I’d been having them of you and Father Satoru. Ever since I came here, I thought you were both immensely attractive. But I didn’t think that allowing myself to be physically attracted to the both of you would cause all of these imageries. I would imagine myself having filthy sex with you—anytime you stood in front of the congregation. For that…I’m sorry,” she keeps her head down.

She awaits for his voice, preparing for the disgust of her words. Instead, she hears nothing. Absolutely nothing. She lifts her head to look on the other side of the box, seeing that it’s now empty. Shit, did she really mess up that badly?

“…Father?” She then calls, hearing nothing in response.

She waits a few moments, still hearing nothing. She feels terrible. She shouldn’t have come at all—Maybe she should’ve just never returned to the church. As she stands to leave, her heart jumps out of her chest. The door to the confessional opens and quickly shuts, both Suguru and Satoru now standing in this space with her. Trapping her with them. Her breath catches in her throat as the door slams shut, the air in the cramped space becoming thick with the heat of three bodies.

Their gaze fixated upon her as they lean against the wall of the confessional box opposite of her, their frames dominating the confined space.

“Tell me exactly what you’re apologizing for, Solana,” Suguru firmly initiates.

“I don’t think I should be having these thoughts about…wanting to have sex with the both of you. And I do,” she swallows, “Your church members already have this idea of me. I see the way they look at me when I come in here. I could only think what you or Father Satoru would have to say—especially after my confession.”

“I think you’re honest,” Suguru observes.

They can almost see the relief weigh off of her shoulders at his response. But as she looks between them, it seems to be more that she’s missing.

Satoru then speaks up, “Poor baby. This has really been bothering you, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” she softly agrees. “So—“

“So we’ll just fuck you, then.” Suguru states, promises.

Solana’s eyes go slightly wide as she stutters, “What?”

“That’s what you want, right?”

Satoru fully extends, coming forward as he hovers his frame over her smaller one. She steps back as she nearly trips over the bench, holding herself steady as she feels Satoru’s hand come upon her hip, making sure she doesn’t fall.

“I—“

“I know that’s what you want, Solana. I just need to hear you say it,” Suguru speaks up, capturing her throat within his palms, digging his fingers lightly into the skin. She now has both men holding a part of her, her body completely on fire at their simple touch. They were inviting her into a dangerous situation. She could admit—she wanted every part of it.

“Yes,” She muttered softly.

“Look at me and say that,” he grips her face tighter, forcing her eyes to look into his.

“Yes, fuck me,” she repeated, more firm. Meaning it.

“Good,” Suguru leans down, slamming his lips along hers.

Her throat mewls at the warmth of his mouth. She’d never had a man kiss her like this. He had a grip on the back of her neck as he leaned down, sensually thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth for her to catch it, eyes closing as she moaned softly at the feeling. His lips were warm and his tongue was even warmer as it danced within her mouth, exploring every possible crevice— every space that it had access to. His grip on her only tightened, trapping her completely in the embrace of his hand as his body pressed closer to hers.

“Greedy, aren’t we?” Satoru asked, harshly pulling her away from Suguru’s mouth. He stuck his tongue out which caused her to lean forward, sucking his tongue within her mouth, his lips plush and soft as he smashed them together, softer and more sensual than the first kiss she shared. It’s like he was trying to absorb her scent, inhaling the mixture of vanilla and mint. She was like a drug.

“Look at how responsive she is…” Satoru taunts, bringing his mouth down to her throat, sucking the skin into his lips. Solana’s eyes fluttered shut as she whimpered softly, hearing Suguru’s voice as he replied, “We’ve barely touched her.”

Satoru now stands behind her as Suguru stands in front, both beginning to remove the vestments they wore. They then help her remove her dress, their eyes hungry as her brown nipples perk out, figure even better without clothing. Solana’s eyes come to the mirror behind them as she sees his back is covered in ink, shadowing any of his olive toned skin. His hair that was in a half bun began falling around his attractive face, it felt almost too intimate to stare. Satoru stood behind her, skin clean and soft, body sculpted perfectly to her touch. They were fucking beautiful. Hands roamed all around her body, lips along her chest, while another pair bit into her shoulder. It was overwhelming in the best way.

“Hold her up. You want my tongue?” Suguru’s eyes raise to hers, she quickly nods.

“You’re forgetting to say please,” he reminds. Satoru places his arms under the back of her legs, effortlessly lifting her up as her back is now against his chest, legs bending upwards in the air.

“Please,” she becomes slightly irritated at how he wants things his way. Her breath hitches as Satoru somehow pulls her arms with her legs, keeping her firmly stuck in his hold.

“Wanna try again?” Suguru raises an eyebrow as he hears her attitude. He lightly smacks his palm against her face, shoving his fingers down her throat as he brings his face close to hers, dominance pooling into her veins.

“I’m sorry,” her voice is small as she inhales deeply from his actions, wanting more from him, “Please, baby. I want your tongue.”

“Next time I won’t be so nice,” he promises, traveling his soaked fingers down her body, rubbing her puffy clit. She wanted to clasp her thighs closed, Satoru behind her as his tongue drags along her ear, teasing her as she moans prettily. Her sounds are like angels singing, even as condescending as that might’ve been.

Suguru takes his index and middle finger as he sinks them inside her, moaning with Solana as she pulls him in deeper, her walls gripping him as if never wanting to let him go. She brought her eyes up to the mirror and watched as his fingers shoved in and out.

Satoru’s now in her ear as he chuckles sultrily, “Look at that, baby,” he talks to her, “I think she wants more.”

“I want more,” she mewls, “Please.”

“Give her what she wants,” Satoru commands.

Suguru leans down as he removes his fingers from her, capturing her clit within his mouth as he sucks softly. He goes slow, allowing the pleasure to hit every nerve within her body, rotating his head in circles as his tongue drags all along her core, saliva creating against tastebuds.

She leans her head against Satoru’s shoulder as she begs, “Kiss me,” he does without argument.

Suguru’s tongue doesn’t slow down, diving in and out of her, fucking her with his mouth as he moans against her, kissing her clit passionately in the same way he made out with her.

“Tastes so fucking sweet, baby. This some crazy shit” he groans, spanking her skin as Satoru holds her hips up higher, Suguru’s tongue delving deeper.

“Suguru…oh—shit,” she whined, wanting to grip his hair yet her hands were still trapped. Her back arches as she could only see the back of his head from the mirror, watching as he pleasured her. Satoru’s grip was tight, ensuring that her body didn't move around or move away from Suguru, arch becoming stronger.

He snaked his hand up to her face, pulling it downwards as he spoke, “Watch me.”

His breath was hot against her opening as he maintained eye contact. "Look at what I'm doing to you... Look at how you’re moaning from just my mouth…” he talks to her, slamming his palm along her thigh, watching the skin become red as he rutted his lips against her core.

Her hips swayed against his face, hair around her neck making her hot. She responded petulantly, “I’m watching, baby…I promise…”

“Good.”

He brought his free hand up to her chest, cupping the breast within his hand, squeezing and kneading the soft skin. She felt her lower stomach becoming tight. Her abdomen stiffened as she gripped Suguru’s hair, filthily spouting within his mouth. She was unable to hold herself back as her eyes rolled in her head, shuddering as she watched him dipping his tongue inside her, eating like she’d be ripped away from his hold at any second.

He stands up, gripping her face as he kisses her, sucking her lower lip before he pulls back, “Tell me who you want to fuck you first.”

“You, Suguru.” She whimpers.

“Fuck her, Satoru.” Suguru easily denies.

Satoru drops her legs that feel like jelly, her feet now flat on the ground. Hands bend her over whilst pushing her back inwards, watching as it perfectly arches. Light eyes took in the way her hips curved perfectly in his hands. He lowers himself down as he brings his mouth between her legs, Solana lightly jumping at the intrusion. She has no time to react as she feels a hand on her chin, pulling her eyes upwards to look at Suguru.

“She doesn’t deserve to have her pussy ate again. You remember how bad her mouth was?” Suguru reminds. Solana’s eyes close as Satoru gently laps between her folds, fondling the skin of her ass.

“Put something in it, then. This isn’t for her,” Satoru commands, attaching his mouth back onto her.

“I’ll ruin her throat,” he responds back.

“She’ll love it.”

“I know she fucking will,” Suguru gruffly responds, wrapping his free hand around his length as he forcefully opens her mouth, shoving himself to the back of her throat. Her mouth feels full, no room to adjust as he collects her hair in his fist, yanking her back and forth against his hips. She salivated, going to wrap her hands around him as Satoru gripped both of her wrists in one hand behind her. Suguru pulls her down farther, Solana choking as he slammed his tip against her uvula, her eyes watering at his movements. But Satoru was right about one thing. She did love it.

“Look at you, baby,” Suguru moans, gritting his teeth as she hummed against him, bobbing her head lightly from the little control she had. Her lips were becoming a pouty red. She could feel his nails digging within her scalp, tilting his head down to watch as he fucked her face roughly.

Satoru extends to his full height, taking himself within his hand, placing the other on Solana’s hip to angle her properly. His tip taps along her clit, kissing the pulsing throb. She became more aroused than before.

He slides himself in, Solana’s eyes fluttering shut as she moaned against Suguru’s length that was still driving within her mouth. She slows down the pleasure she gives to him, feeling as if Satoru is just as big as Suguru, if not bigger. He stretches her, her lower abdomen burning from the feeling, a stronger sense of pleasure overcoming the pain.

He starts off slow, only pulling halfway out as he pushes in deeper the second time, Solana shouting as he spanks her, “Open up for me. I’ll fuck you good.”

She tries to relax, Suguru holding her head as he asks, “When did I tell you to stop?”

Taking the both of them was something she didn’t imagine struggling with. Satoru places his hand on her shoulder as he pulls her back against him, the back of her thighs creating a squelching sound from how wet she already was. He keeps his other hand wrapped around her fists, moaning lowly as she grips every inch that deeply pounds into her. Her eyes remained closed as Suguru pounds her face on the other end, her jaw painfully twitching yet she opened her mouth wider, moaning at every movement.

“She feels fuckin’ amazing,” Satoru grunts, “Keep fucking her mouth. It makes her more wet.”

“Fuck her harder,” Suguru counters.

And they did. Satoru snaps his hips into her, the rhythm perfect as her mouth meets with Suguru’s hips each time. She moans with every thrust, body trembling each time Satoru slams his palm on her ass, each time Suguru slams his palm on her cheek. She mewls again, her body nearly relaxing in this position, lower abdomen trembling.

“She’s gonna cum,” Satoru eyes, never stopping his movements of fucking her.

“She better fuckin’ not,” Suguru threatens.

“Come fuck her. She wants you more. Don’t you?” Satoru pulls her upwards, her feet nearly off of the ground as he wraps both of his hands around her throat from behind. Her hips bounce against his own, her eyes closing as she whimpers, “Satoru.”

“Call my name like that again, baby. Maybe I’ll believe you. What happened? I thought you wanted Suguru?” He talks to her, clasping her throat under his palms, throwing her body back and forth against his length, Solana gripping his fingers that have a tight hold against her. She grunts in response, her voice trailing into a whine as she cries softly, “No, baby. I want you, too. Feels so…fucking…good…”

“I know,” he agrees.

“Oh, you don’t want me no more?” Suguru then asks, wrapping his fingers atop of Satoru’s that still sit on her throat, helping as he drags her down, slamming her back down onto Satoru’s hips.

“Can’t ever forget you, Suguru. Come fuck me, baby. I miss you,” she babbles. Her voice causes Suguru to grunt, kissing her aggressively at her pleads.

Satoru finally releases her. Suguru then effortlessly pulls her up to him, bringing her legs over his shoulders as he stands at his full height. Her body shivers as she feels hit tip, fat and throbbing against her opening. Her eyes close as he slowly slides her down, her mouth dropping open as he feels huge, stretching her so far that she thought she’d tear. His eyes flick down to hers to watch, Solana able to see her own pleasure within the mirror. She sees his perfectly sculpted back, resting her arms along his neck as her nails connected against the ink upon it, digging her fingers into his skin.

His hips moved slowly, the small movements he made were almost methodical as he leaned more into the sensation of her body meeting his. With his back fully visible to her through the mirror, she was able to completely take in his physique, watching the way that his muscles flexed as he moved. They watched each other, seeing him slowly thrust himself into her body, back still as stiff as a board yet with Solana in his limbs, he had a slight sway to him.

“Oh…my—“ she breathes in deeply, unable to speak as she stared into his face, nodding her head since her voice couldn’t do anything to help.

“You’re not so shy anymore, are you?” Suguru taunts her, lifting her body up with ease as he sinks her back down. Their bodies continue to move in rhythm, his hips picking up speed as he moves more intensely against her. She struggles to hold on, nails digging into his back as she brings her eyes down, watching his length go in and out of her. She was completely enthralled by him.

“Stop it…” she panted.

“She can’t take it. She’s going to take it,” Satoru speaks behind them, lightly kissing her neck as he grips her hair in his fist, pulling her up slightly.

“C’mon, pretty girl. You did so well taking my dick. You want more, huh?”

“Yes,” she bites her lip, groaning at his words. The back of her thighs slam against the front of Suguru as he grips her ass tightly in his palms, her skin clapping with his as he becomes rougher with every thrust.

“Then watch him. Look how he’s fucking you. I think you like the way he handles you,” he pulls the ponytail he’s created in her hair, Solana seeing as Suguru’s length disappears and then reappears again.

She listened. She watched intensely between their hips as he pulled out slowly, slamming her back down quickly. Fingers gripped his arms as she tilted her head down to watch, hair falling around her face. Her eyes rolled entirely to the back of her head as she spoke. She cried softly, “Oh my god…” groaning as if she were annoyed, “Yes. Yes. Fuck me just like that, I love bouncing on your dick like this, baby,” she hiccuped.

Her face was completely red. As she scanned Suguru’s eyes, she could see a sudden cockiness within him—and slowly, a grin spread across his face. It was the most terrifying thing she’d ever seen.

Both men laugh arrogantly, Satoru reaching around as he rubs her clit, Solana’s head falling back against his shoulder as she couldn’t stop herself from moaning.

“Calling god now? Shame. Seems like she needs more penitents,” Suguru laughs, humored at the loss of her pride.

“He can’t help you here…” Satoru talks within her ear, echoing into her mind.

It was as if she was drunk, babbling against the both of them, allowing them to have full control over her. Her head continued to spin, eyes captivated of his strength, legs over his shoulders flailing with every movement. Her nails dug into his back, free hand shoving her own fingers into her mouth as she sucked, moaning loudly against them.

“I’m gonna….”

“Cum. She’s gonna cum. Let her,” Satoru finishes.

“Nah. I’m not with the sweet shit. She better wait,” Suguru shakes his head.

He pulls out of her, Solana shivering as they quickly change positions. She looks down as Suguru is now beneath her, Satoru placing his length in front of her face.

“Come sit on my dick. I’ll make you squirt like this,” Suguru demands, pulling her down. He wraps his hands around her waist as he’s already shoving himself into her.

“Wanna feel your throat, baby,” Satoru speaks sweetly, separating her mouth as he pushes his tip past her lips. She complies, growing more horny by the second as she circles her hips atop of Suguru, taking her hand as she wraps it around the base of Satoru, sucking him within her own pleasure.

“Even through all this…you’re still so good…” Suguru grunts, spanking her.

Satoru strokes her face gently, seeing as tears drop from her eyes, not knowing how much longer she was going to be able to handle the both of them. She grips her own breast with her other hand, Suguru snatching the hand away as he replaces it with his palm, squeezing as he thrusts upwards into her.

“Relax, pretty girl. You wanna cum?” Satoru asks from above, rubbing her face to relax her, Solana nodding as she sobs softly, unable to do anything but take what was given to her.

“You’re lucky you have him. I’d make you cry like a fuckin’ baby,” Suguru spits.

“She already is. She looks so cute,” Satoru tells him, “You can cum, baby. I’m close too.”

“She’s creaming. Never had dick like this, have you? You’ll want more. You’ll be back,” Suguru promises once again, holding her firmly as grinds her against him, Solana’s hips involuntarily wining.

“Imagine what the congregation will think when they hear how good you take my dick. How you whine for more. Satoru was right, you are fuckin’ greedy.”

That was enough for her. Neither of them stop as she thrashes atop of Suguru, sobbing loudly as she orgasms, core squelching as she gushes against his length. Suguru laughs, spanking her so hard that it leaves a bruise.

As both men continue their non-stop fulfillment of pleasure, they watch as she relaxes, just wanting to be so good for them. They felt satisfied, able to break her in the way they imagined. Both men grunt, Satoru moaning as he holds Solana’s chin, pulling back as he shoots against her beautiful face. Suguru moans after, pulling out of her as he pulls her forward, cumming along her ass, gripping the flesh in his palm.

They all pant against one another, Solana wanting to feel embarrassed. She wanted to feel like this was the biggest mistake she’d made in her life. Yet, she felt the complete opposite. She felt trapped within these men, and she damn sure didn’t want out.

“I think you two might be the devil…” she breathes heavily.

“What if we told you that we were? What if we told you we were the worst people you’d ever met?” Satoru teases, Suguru chuckling in response.

“I think I might believe you.”

“Good,” Suguru replies, Solana jumping as he pulls her down by her neck, lips nearly touching hers as he speaks a deafening sentence.

“‘Cause we’re not done with you yet.”

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