#chapter 4

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Hell's Assumptions

A/N – Okay, I think that’s everyone on the tagging list. So, here’s to Chapter 4. Raise a glass.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Tag-List: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx@sseleniaa@randomgurl2326@22carolina08@astrxwitch@yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch @reverse-soe

People were staring.

The worst part was, you weren’t sure who they were staring at, you or Lucifer. It could have easily been him since he was the King of Hell, and even those who didn’t immediately recognise him could sense the power he exuded. However, it was just as likely that they were looking at you and wondering who you were, and how you had managed to get their ruler to walk with you, especially since he wasn’t known for going out much.

Fortunately, when people saw Lucifer coming, they moved to the other side of the street, staring, whispering, taking pictures, but keeping a safe distance.

Lucifer was used to this kind of thing. He walked confidently, held a charming smile, and was generally non-plussed by the attention. You, on the other hand, felt awkward.

‘This was my idea,’ You mentally reminded yourself.

You tried to hold onto that thought as you attempted to strike up a conversation.

“So… What’s it like in the Embassy building?” You asked, quickly realising that it was a terrible topic as Lucifer’s smile became a glower.

You shouldn’t have reminded him where he was going. It was obvious he hated Heaven for their treatment of him, yet yearned for it and the life he had lost within its pearly gates where nothing went wrong for anyone.

“Sorry,” You said hurriedly. “I didn’t think- uh, nice weather we’re having?”

Lucifer smiled and shook his head. He couldn’t believe you. Only the night before, you had told him to grow up, with such confidence, and now here you were struggling for words. He bypassed the awkward situation with ease by asking, “Will you be visiting the Hotel today?”

“Oh, uh… Maybe. I would like to see everyone again. Check that Nifty hasn’t set anything on fire. Make sure that everything’s okay, and-”

You had been about to mention Angel Dust. Today was one of his work days. You would like to check that he was okay. You didn’t mention him however, with something like a confidentiality clause stopping you, though you weren’t his doctor, nor was he your patient. You didn’t want to talk about his suffering; he was more than his trauma.

Instead, you said, “I would like to check in, but maybe not today. Besides, you’ll be there tonight, won’t you?”

“Yes. I’d like to deliver the news to Charlie personally, and perhaps coach her on some of Heaven’s stricter rules.”

“Then, I think I’ll stay at the manor. I wouldn’t want to step on your toes. You and Charlie- I think you need to catch up a bit, without any interruptions. She missed you, you know.”

Lucifer ruminated on this for a minute. Whatever your motivations, he was glad that you were giving him and his daughter some space. Granted, the Hotel was large enough to house many conversations in separate areas but by making the offer of keeping your distance, you were giving Lucifer some breathing room; that was good.

Had you not made that offer, Lucifer might have brought up the topic of moving you back into the Hotel to Charlie, but in respecting his boundaries, Lucifer was starting to think that you weren’t so bad… for a Sinner.

“I missed her too.”

“Can I ask,” You said hesitantly, “What kept you away so long? You clearly think the world of her.”

Lucifer sighed, and stopped in the middle of the street, “I-”

He didn’t get to explain his absence.

Instead, he became annoyed as two Sinners, one who looked like a nine-year-old boy’s dream with bazooka arms and rocket-infused shoulders, and the other a winged bear-woman wielding a machine gun burst through the building on the opposite side of the road, waging war upon one another.

“SHIT!” You cursed, seeing the debris that threatened to crush a lone imp who hadn’t reacted quickly enough, his leg trapped under the first brick segment that fell.

Reacting quickly, you threw out your arms. A light green barrier shielded the imp from further harm, but you struggled under the weight of so much wreckage.

“MOXXIE!” A female imp yelled, running to him.

You thought she might struggle to lift the wreckage off him and were about to ask for Lucifer’s help before your barrier would inevitably crumble. Yet, the female imp was stronger than she appeared and she threw it off Moxxie. She then lifted him bridal style, and ran from the danger, shooting you a grateful look from across the street.

You gasped and shuddered as you let your arms fall, your barrier fading from existence.

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” Lucifer said as you straightened up.

“What?” You breathed heavily, recovering from the exertion; one of the weakest Demons in Hell, with your limited abilities.

“It was a nice thing to do, but what’s the point? Look around,” Lucifer threw his arms up dramatically. “Someone built something nice, and now it’s gone, all because two Sinners couldn’t take their petty power struggle somewhere else. Nobody benefits from this.”

You opened your mouth to argue but were interrupted by the same two imps you had just saved, “Hey there, I’m pretty sure my husband is delirious right now, but he wanted to come over here.”

“I’m not delirious, Millie,” Moxxie said pointedly, clinging onto her shoulder to support his weight; his leg was in all likeliness broken, but being an imp of Hell, it would heal quickly enough.

Millie looked at him sympathetically, likely thinking something along the lines of, ‘Baby, we’re the only ones on the same side of the street as His Majesty, but do what you gotta do!’

“I must thank you most humbly for your remarkable rescue in my name, good Lady,” Moxxie exclaimed pompously, probably presuming that since you were accompanied by Lucifer you were of a much higher station than you were. “Without you, I would certainly have perished, so I find it an appropriate time to extend my gratitude.”

“He means thank you,” Millie affectionately translated.

“You’re welcome,” You smiled. Then, with a small flourish of your fingers, Moxxie leg was bandaged and he was provided with a crutch to hold onto. You were no healer, but that would help the bone set correctly.

Moxxie and Millie thanked you both again, presuming that Lucifer had been part of the rescue (and in a way he was, for when the warring Demons saw him, they took their battle elsewhere), then they were gone, one limping down the street on his new crutch, and his wife offering to carry him.

“You’re wrong,” You said, once the pair were out of sight. “They benefitted.”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say about that. They were only imps. Why did you think they mattered? Yet, after watching the loving couple thank you for their rescue, Lucifer wasn’t certain that he trusted his assessment of the situation. Charlie wanted to redeem Sinners, you had just saved the lowest of all Hell’s beings and he…? He needed to reassess how he thought about things.

The two of you didn’t speak after that and Lucifer assumed that you were mad at him until you reached Heaven’s Embassy. Lucifer stared at the building, broken and hopeless, thinking about how he would have to fight for Charlie.

He was about to take the first step towards it when you rested your hand on his shoulder.

He stared at you, surprised.

“Good luck,” You proffered sympathetically. Then you walked away, and Lucifer was left staring after you. So, you weren’t mad at him after all. What a curious person you were.

He looked back to the building before him, the one place in Hell that was perfectly pristine, and unable to be harmed by anyone. After a deep breath, he headed inside.

When Lucifer returned home, he was exhausted. The meeting had been lengthy and derogatory. He had been treated with barely disguised disdain and talked in circles, but finally, Heaven had agreed to allow his daughter passage to Heaven.

It was never an option really. As the ruler of a powerful realm, Lucifer had to be treated respectfully, even if all of Heaven hated him. Yet, just because they had to acquiesce to his request didn’t mean they hadn’t tried to talk him out of it. The only good news was that it had been Sera and a few of her assistants who hosted the meeting, not that ignorant prick Adam; Lucifer hated that guy… though his taste in women had always been spectacular.

Still, it had all been worth it when he got to the hotel and Charlie thanked him and invited him to stay for a while. They had caught up over tea, and he had gotten to know a little bit more about her and her relationship with Vaggie. Lucifer likely would have stayed longer seeing as he’d also been invited to games night, but then that red-headed bastard was there, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, and Lucifer had made his reasons to leave.

Now, all he wanted was to recover in peace.

On his way upstairs, he heard the long-neglected TV blaring in one of the living rooms. Feeling somewhat guilty about his unsupportive attitude towards you earlier, he decided it would probably be good for him to make amends and apologise. So, before isolating himself for the evening, he sought you out.  

You were hunched on the sofa, watching 666 News, and grimacing at the new headline, King of Hell’s New Fuckbuddy.

Lucifer stood quietly behind you, watching as Katie Killjoy reported, “While Hell will be royally fucked by the impending extermination it seems that King of Hell Lucifer is being royally fucked by his new bimbo bitch, seen walking with him today on the streets of Pentagram City.”

Security camera footage of you and Lucifer from earlier filled the screen for a minute before returning to the hosts.

“Who is this Sinner? Does Lucifer get off on Angelic clothing? We hope to find out more soon. Over to you, Tom.”

Tom Trench continued the report, much less assuredly than his co-anchor, “Nobody can say for certain they’re together. Some speculate the Demon to be his highness’ new assistant or-”

Katie clutched Tom’s neck in one hand, never looking away from the camera as she cut off his air supply, “Nobody gives a shit about your limp-dick opinion Tom. We’re all here to speculate about who’s raw-dogging who. Now, onto our cooking segment, It’s Dahm Good, with host Jeffrey who is making a delicious spleen soufflé. Jeffrey-”

“HA!” Lucifer laughed, pointing at the TV.

“Shit!” You yelped, lurching forward, having not known he’d returned home. You turned the TV off and stood to face Lucifer.

He was doubled over and wheezing at the idea that you and he would ever be together.

“Well, at least you’re not upset about this,” You grinned, finding his good mood contagious.

“What morons. They’re always just there, assuming the weirdest shit whenever I go out,” He laughed.  

“Yeah? So, it’s okay people know we’re friends?”

Lucifer straightened up with a smile. So, you classed him as a friend? He didn’t confirm or deny your assumption of friendship. He waved his hand, unbothered, “Let them think what they want to think. It’s Hell, nothing matters. Besides, 666 News is trash.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So, how did the meeting with Heaven go? Did they agree to meet with Charlie?”

Lucifer sobered up slightly, though he didn’t seem as upset as he was earlier when Heaven was mentioned, “Yes. The meeting’s in a week. Charlie is- She’s optimistic.”

“And you?”

“I- My girl can handle it.”

“Yeah, she can.”

And so it was that you and Lucifer started to find some common ground, that slowly built the gap from two people who barely knew one another, towards friends.

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #sinless sinners #Fem reader #female reader #chapter 4 #part 4 #hell's assumptions

[swindle-comic]

#ducktales #ducktales fancomic #ty cloudkicker #swindle comic #chapter 4

[a-memory-of-younger-days]

Previous ꕥ Next

#a memory of younger days #chapter 4 #the legend of zelda #ocarina of time #majora's mask #oot link #zelda au #zelda

[distantdarlings]

BY THE FIREPLACE (PT. 4) // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.3K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested* In an attempt to forget about the events of the last few days, you try to relax yourself as best you can. You pull a book and some tea down to the common room but are shocked to see that Theo had the same idea.

+ WARNINGS - Language, sensuality (described in mind), nothing else really

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

affection - BETWEEN FRIENDS

*sorry for the short chapter

- - -

You awoke early the next morning. Much earlier than normal. The small clock sat on the desk beside your bed barely had its big hand brushing the four. There was little to no light outside. You pulled your hand to your face to rub some of the sleep out of your eyes.

The only sounds around you were the occasional soft snores from your roommates and a deep rumbling in your stomach. Shit. You must have fallen asleep last night without eating anything. You raised your arms above your head and coaxed a few cracks out of your spine before slipping out of bed. The green, fur-lined slippers lay right beside the head of your bed, waiting patiently for you to sleep your feet in.

You were no longer tired and didn’t feel like laying in bed until classes started, trying to urge yourself back to sleep. You figured you could catch up on some personal reading and have a mug of tea.

Beneath your bed, was a small wicker basket your mother had made for you on your eleventh birthday. It was intricately woven with two pastel ribbons secured on either handle. You loved it dearly and it had held many things as you grew up. At the moment, it held a large assortment of teas and a small kettle that you could hang over the fire in the common room. You knelt down and retrieved the items, deciding on a nice rose and lavender blend.

You gathered the things together, slipped the book you were currently reading into your arms, and made for the common room. At 4 o’clock in the morning, where the sun was not even up, you were expecting few students, if any, to be occupying the room. You were hoping for none.

The common room was always pleasantly splashed in moonlight around this time of the morning. Its cool rays showed through the water just outside the windows and bathed everything in the whiteness. Everything except for the warm fire in the middle of the room. You waltzed over to one of the plush couches, not seeing anyone else around—thank Merlin.

Wandlessly, you conjured some water, watching as it filled your small kettle. You hang it on the fireplace hanger and collapse into the couch, propping your book open. It had been over a day since you’d last read—some fiction about a knight’s journey dealing with the PTSD of his position—and you wondered if you even remembered what had happened the last few chapters. Your eyes found the small words on the page and let yourself fall into the story.

After a few minutes, the kettle began to whistle. You marked your place in the book and tossed it to the cushion beside you. You wanted to get the kettle off the flame before it started screaming and waking up the whole Slytherin house.

You wrapped your hands in your night robe and slipped the kettle away from the fire. With a whispered incantation, your favorite mug from under your bed appeared on the side table. You poured the steaming water into it and watched as the steam poured over the lip of the cup, its billowing moisture brushing against your bare legs.

Once you’d allowed the tea to steep and it had cooled, you became comfortable once again, leaning against the edge of the couch’s arm, sipping your tea every once in a while. It really was a good book. You’d almost found yourself forgetting about the ridiculous events of yesterday.

Until….you sigh. Out of the corner of your eye, a pair of legs appear coming down the stairs to the male dormitory, then a chest, then a face. A particularly difficult pair of eyes met yours. You all but groaned and rolled your eyes. You could not believe it.

“Hey,” he said, a small chuckle coming out of his mouth. It was awkward and the silence that followed it was somehow worse.

“Uh, hey?” You knew he was just talking to you now because he felt just as weird as you did—at least, that’s what you assumed. Before, he never went out of his way to acknowledge you, now…

No one spoke for at least a minute, the both of you just stared at one another, briefly found the other’s eyes, then quickly glanced away again.

“Well don’t let me interrupt you, I was just passing through,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of the plaid pajama pants he was wearing. Your eyes followed him as he began to walk towards one of the bookcases in the corner. He wore a black tank top that showed off his muscular arms beautifully. Your line of vision traced the thick vein that wrapped around his arm, curled down his wrist, and disappeared with his hands in his pants pocket. The pajama pants sat low on his waist and framed the sharp edge of his hip bones. You watched closely as he contemplated the options on the shelves before him.

His eyes caught something interesting. He raised up on his tip toes and lifted his arm to grab it. The tank top slid up his stomach, revealing the strong line of muscle that traveled from below his ribs and down to what lay beneath his waistband. The band of his undergarments traveled briefly over his hips. Fuck. He looked absolutely edible.

You shake that thought off and turn your head back to your book, forcing yourself to focus on the words before you. Surely, this was a normal feeling. It was just natural hormones forcing you to look for a mate. This was simply Mother Nature taking its course. Completely ordinary.

But Merlin, the way he had looked at you when he’d come down the stairs. His eyes, so dark and wanting, glancing over you in your too-big night robe and your ratty shorts. You felt like the most desirable thing in the world with the way he looked at you. Maybe you were just imagining it, but he looked as though he wanted to devour every inch of you.

Your fingers scraped over the book’s pages, letting the light scratch of the parchment control your thoughts. Intrusive ones that you indulged for just a moment before realizing what a weakness it was. Ones that gripped your hips and bit your chest and traced your thighs.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” His voice appeared behind you suddenly. You jumped at his abruptness.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Nott, take a seat wherever you’d like,” you sighed, trying once again to refocus yourself. But as he traveled over to the love seat at the far end of the rug probably no more than ten feet from you, you couldn’t help but glance up over the pages every so often.

You watched as he made himself comfortable, legs spread wide open with one ankle resting on the other knee, one hand against the arm of the chair propping his head up, the book balanced against his raised leg, and a strong arm coming up every once and a while to flip the page. As he launched himself further into the story, he began to fidget a bit. His thumb and forefinger pinching his bottom lip, the knot in his throat sliding up and down as he swallowed, his hips readjusting themselves, sliding them slowly against the cushion and—

You slammed your book shut. You couldn’t live like this. You were just going to force yourself back to bed. At the sudden sound, Theo’s eyes shot up in a worried glance.

“You okay?” he asked. You began to gather your things, tucking your now-cooled kettle under your arm. When he realized what you were doing, his book dropped to the cushion beside him and he stood abruptly. You stopped and the two of you watched each other, waiting for the other to speak. His eyes were slightly widened and he was breathing a bit heavier than usual. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly. Neither one of you moved.

“You know I’m—” “I’m sorry if—”

You both began talking and stopped at the same time. Theo dropped his head and you glanced away, finding the stained glass windows particularly interesting.

“You go first,” he says. You sigh.

“I was just going to say that I’m going to go back to bed,” you explained, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh,” he says, sounding particularly dejected. Or maybe he didn’t. You couldn’t tell what you were and weren’t imagining the last few hours.

“What were you going to say?” you ask.

His eyes glanced around the room. His fists opened and closed, flexing the tendons that ran gracefully along his forearm.

“I was going to say I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the whole…,”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you brush it off, “let’s not make it more than it is, okay?”

“No, yeah, I didn’t mean to,” he quickly says. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His eyes find yours and for a second you feel your heart liquefying, melting and rushing down your ribs, sliding across your stomach and legs. Your eyes hold and it feels as though neither of you can look away. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears and echoing against your back.

His lips open and close multiple times and the heavy breathing is back. His chest rising and falling, rising and falling. His honeyed lips pulsing with each breath. His eyes slipping down the length of your body but your vision is too shaky to even notice it. And when did you guys get closer to each other? His hand now rested delicately on the back of the couch you stood in front of. There was but an arm’s length between the two of you. You could just reach out and touch him…

“Yeah, uh…,” you interrupted, your eyes falling away from his. You broke the moment. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking in, Nott.” He chuckles.

“Do you even know my first name?” His eyes find yours once more. No, thank you. You finish gathering your things and begin to walk around the side of the couch.

“Um, I do but…you know, if we aren’t making this weird, I figure we just go back to the way we were. You not knowing I exist and me not caring that you do.” Yikes. Fucking harsh. You shake your head and start walking past him to the staircase.

His hand suddenly wraps around your arm, your skin stinging like he had electrocuted you. You jump and he pulls away quickly. He mumbles a quick apology. You brush it off swiftly. God, this was painful. You imagined your friends watching this play out and cringing so hard they passed out. Because you were on the verge of doing the same.

“Is that seriously what you think of me?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes filled with concern. You sigh again.

“I’m sorry, that was rude, I shouldn’t have said that,” you apologize. “But before…this whole situation, we didn’t talk to each other. We went about our days, blissfully ignorant to one other.”

His eyes hit the ground. He knew it was true. The both of you knew that if this hadn’t happened, nothing would have changed between your relationship—or lack thereof.

“If you want to…you know, be friendly,” you start. His eyes raise to yours. “Come to the library with me or have lunch with me.” You felt pretty sure he wouldn’t. He had a reputation to uphold.

He and all of his friends were ‘well-known’ around Hogwarts. They were all handsome, smart, and hailing from very old, wealthy Wizarding families. Everybody liked them or wanted to be them and you knew that well. All cliches aside, you were a Half-Blood and probably none of their concern if not the subject of their bigotry.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I will do those things with you,” he shrugs. “Give me a time and place.”

You were flabbergasted. And you were sure your face was showing it painfully well. You didn’t know what to say without sounding like a fool.

You wanted to say yes. God, how you wanted to say yes…Should you? Is it even worth all of the trouble? You know if anyone sees the two of you chatting it up at lunch, rumors will fly and you’re not so sure you’re comfortable being at the center of those. Yeah, no. You’re definitely not. Say no.

“Um…alright,” you breathe, smiling nervously. “I usually eat lunch by the Black Lake and read. I’ll be there today.” Merlin, help.

“Okay,” he says, smiling. “Well, don’t be reading while we’re eating lunch together.” You laugh.

“I won’t, as long as your conversation can keep my interest.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure it can.” He sends a wink your way. Embarrassingly, a bit of heat blossoms in your stomach. This was ridiculous. You weren’t thirteen. You needed to get it together.

“We’ll see.” The two of you smile and begin to slowly separate. You didn’t really understand what was going on and you half-wondered if this was even worth it simply due to the amount of teasing you were going to get from your friends. But he seemed…nice. You wanted to see what lunch was all about today. It couldn’t hurt to have a new friend.

Part 5!

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #multi chapter #chapter 4 #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #eventual smut #gender neutral reader

[peterspinkrobe]

Temptation | Priest!Miguel O’Hara x femreader [part 4]

W/C: 7,1k+ Go read the other chapters

Warnings/Rating: 18+. Religious content. Some Spanish. [smut spoilers ahead lol] ~~~~~~~~~~~ Reader has a vagina. Oral (f receiving). Some overstimulation. That’s all, babe.

A/N: so so so sorry it took so long. Thank you for your patience. I got real wrapped up in the chapter and work has been working me. Looking up flower symbolism and shit. Also, turns out the Bible has smut too. The scripture quoted throughout is from Song of Songs 4-7. Let me know what you think. Pic is something I found on Google (shame)

The chill of the evening air reminded the two who stepped into it that August was bleeding into September. Change was in the wind that carried hues of summer - fluttering down from trees that were shedding their warm colors for leaves of yellow, red, and orange gradients. The sun set earlier day by day as autumn approached the little town hidden in the Catskills mountain belt.

As the sun buried itself deeper into the horizon, it cast an expanse of purples and blues on the clouds above the two making their way into the courtyard behind the church. The pair stole away, silently sneaking out a side door, while the others enjoyed their supper inside. They were accompanied only by the statues of winged angels frozen in time - pouring bowls of abundance into the garden.

Wildflowers burst from patches along the walkways as the tall man guides the follower to a bench situated beside a maple tree. He ducked to avoid the overhead branches as he sat down and invited the other to join him there.

Wild Asters sprouted on either side of the bench in large clusters, long stems shooting up petals of white and red. The one still standing admires the stark contrast between the backdrop of the natural world and the seated one’s black clothes and collared neck. No words have been exchanged since they stepped into the open air but the silent invitation of the large hand patting the open space made the other feel tingles, nonetheless.

The black clad man kept his hands in his lap and shot sideways glances at the one beside him. Their nerves caused them to bounce their knees rapidly. The silence and their nervousness was too much for the man to bear. He wanted to calm them down and reassure them that all was well. He placed his large hand on the other’s knee, halting the bobbing leg. The sudden touch caused them to look up at him into the stormy dark eyes that showed nothing but concern and curiosity. He spoke their name and the song brought them back to Earth.

__________________________________________

“Your confession last-” the deacon began, but was interrupted by your nervous apology.

“I’m so sorry that you had to hear all that. I am so embarrassed and I understand if you think I shouldn’t come here anymore. The last thing I want to do is get you in trouble or-.” This time you are interrupted by that large hand squeezing your leg gently. You look down and see the long-sleeved black dress shirt rolled up to his forearm, the muscle there too tight for it to roll up any further. The veins in his arms protrude and you trace one with your eyes that trails up his arm to the back on his hand. His palm envelopes your kneecap and the long fingers create a cage around the joint. You swallow your words and silently curse the clothes separating skin.

“Please… let me finish.” He brought his other hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sounded strained, as if he had to get the words out or he would burst. Like the things he had to say were compacted in his skull and caused pressure to build between his eyes. You fell silent again and your eyes darted between the scrunched lids of his eyes.

“Ever since your confession I have been wanting to speak with you. I tried calling after you that day but I know I must have scared you.” Fear wasn’t the primary motive for hauling ass out that church as much as it was shame, but you didn’t want to interrupt him. “And then you weren’t here on Sunday… I realize after your confession that you’re only really here for your mother, but I so wished you were here that day so we could talk face to face.” He continued slightly solemnly.

“I hated that we didn’t get to speak on your struggles further and we weren’t able to close the confession as you deserved. You need to know that I hold no judgment towards you - that session was between you and Him. Everyone's path is different and faith isn’t cookie cutter.” He was so impassioned that when his eyes finally met yours again they lit up with excitement in his explanation.

“I owed a fellow man of the church a favor and I took over his confession shift that day last week. The fact that you came to confession that day… on that day of all days. To you all that may seem serendipitous or coincidental, that you felt that strange urge to release those doubts on the day that I was in the booth, but we in the business like to call that ‘God’s Timing’.” The worry and stress seem to melt away as he talks about your interaction in the booth, very different from the reaction you were expecting. His eyes brighten when you, him, and God are being mentioned in the same breath. He becomes more animated and gestures to the expanse of nature around the two of you.”You were meant to go there that day and say those words, I was meant to be there to hear them, as we are meant to be here now in this garden.”

His chest rises and falls from the excitement he feels. He was certain that this is what is felt to be overcome with the Spirit as he had seen in other churches. For the words to fall out without filters and not hold back the faith. When he lowers his eyes to yours again there is a soft smile in them that matches the one slightly stretching his lips.

“I don’t care if you don’t believe in what I preach,” He says this suddenly and his smile slowly fades into something more serious. “It doesn’t bother me that we don’t share the same faith in Christ.”

Heavy pause follows the revelation and you dare not interrupt him, giving him the time to express himself as he did for you in the booth. The setting sun shines rays into his eyes and they reflect back deep amber irises. Their brilliance bounces across your face like he is studying every inch of it - as if your countenance were a difficult passage in Numbers to interpret.

When he speaks again, you find that you aren't as drunk in the music of his voice. The notes are grounding and almost meditative.

“But what worries me is that you don’t share the same faith in yourself that I do. That you don’t see yourself as worthy of blessings when you are a blessing yourself.” The light chill in the air can’t keep the heat from creeping up your chest and neck. His tone became lighter as he went on.

“You are more than deserving of good things. I know our internal thoughts make us feel otherwise, but I need you to know that what they say to you isn't the truth. We all have personal demons that make us question ourselves.” He tilts his upper half more towards you and his large shoulders jut against the backdrop of maple branches and stirring leaves.

Slowly, so slowly, he slides his hand centimeters up your leg so it’s resting more on your thigh.

“I must also confess that I…” He inhales sharply and releases the words with his exhale, “I’m fighting against every urge in my body to maintain myself when I’m around you.” His brows furrow lightly as his other hand comes to cup your chin again, like he had that first time you’d met. The voice is now the smoky room of a jazz club reverberating lowly in the small distance between the two of you.

“Trying to uphold the principles that have nearly been beaten into me when you are in the same room,” he starts to lean in, “you don’t even have to be in the room, mí vicio, for temptation to threaten the sanctity of my profession.”

He tenses ever so slightly, you feel and hear the hesitation in his touch and voice.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or abuse my position..” he starts to pull his hands away, but you quickly grab his hand on your leg and grip his wrist to hold him there. His eyes widen at your response and his mouth hangs open slightly. A pointed canine dipping into his plump bottom lip as you move his hand to cup your cheek.

He brings his face to yours and looks into your eyes again before his stubborn raising escapes his lips, attempting to put his faith before pleasure, “Tell me to stop… tell me we can’t do this.” He presses his lips together and turns his head away a little. The anguish in the words makes you think he might crumble from the war in his mind.

You respond by closing the rest of the gap and pressing your lips onto his cheek. There is an evening shadow of hairs that poke into the soft kiss. He brings his eyes forward to lock back with yours and your noses bump together. Your breathing mixes and his shoulders rise and fall heavily and it seems as if he’s bracing himself with the grip on your leg. The temptation of just being close to you causes his lips to tremble.

“I don’t think you’ll burn in hell if we kiss,” you try to lighten his tension some and he does chuckle as you feel the shaky breathing on your cheeks.

“Funny.” He quips, but he doesn’t say aloud that he’s already burning. His insides are on fire at the feeling of you in his hands. He knows his soul is doomed if fantasy is enough to condemn. He’d burn for the images he’s pictured of you, the positions his imagination puts you in, and for the way his body is reacting to your permissive responses now. The fact that you want this as much as him makes holding back more difficult.

The anticipation that hung from your pout was too much for him and he whispered to himself before pulling your chin up and kissing you.

Just a press of lips against lips. They brushed against each other as your noses moved to accommodate for the space removed. That first kiss was brief, an innocent expression of the brewing affection between you. Yet, it was laden with complex emotions. A small jolt of electricity sparks from Miguel's chest at the kiss and his heartbeat echoed like a drum in his chest.

He was taken aback at how the simple, sweet kiss had made his head spin and when your lips parted he saw your eyes reflecting desire in their haze. Your eyes closed again and allowed your lips to guide the way.

The two of you traded little pecks and pleasure courses through his body. His hand from your knee now held your right hip and the cupped palm now snaked behind your neck and held your head to his as he deepened the kiss. It was harder to hold back as the deacon’s lust, his want, his desire, was too strong. He peaked down through slitted lids at your hands holding the chest of his shirt in fists and grunted against your closed mouths.

Unadulterated passion overwhelmed him and he poked the tip of his tongue to your lips in request. In those cold showers he had taken to try and control his thoughts, he had instead sinfully prayed to feel the inside of your mouth with his tongue, his fingers, and his currently tented dick. Your receptiveness made him nearly whine when you opened your lips in invitation. The buzz in his brain made him lose his inhibitions as he greedily licked into your mouth. He explored your slick cheeks and your tongues clashed together in their first meeting.

As your tongues danced between your mouths, you found that you were the one having to pull away for breath. Father Miguel’s face had reddened from lack of oxygen since he was prioritizing kissing you inside of breathing. His eyes would open halfway, his eyebrows would knit together in a pleading manner, and his pursed lips were swollen when you pulled away. Strands of his dark hair dangled into his forehead. The desperation on his face and in his grip on you was certainly a sight to behold. It was alluring that he was so affected just by kissing, you imagined just how sensitive he must be. It would be a lie to say you weren’t also feeling warmth pool in your belly at the exchange of kisses. You held his face in your hands and your bodies pressed against each other when he wrapped his arms around you. His voice dripped with yearning as he spoke:

“Let me show you how worthy you are…”

The words were a whisper in the wind, a secret kept by the rustling leaves, but they held a vow he intended to uphold.

_______________________________________

Getting away from your mother was surprisingly easy. She was wiped from cooking and everyone was shooing her home, telling her they would handle the clean up. The only real clean up was from the dishes they had dirtied as she had done most of the kitchen keep up as she cooked.

You should’ve been tired too but your mind still whirred from the excitement earlier. The promise of another rendezvous had you eager to volunteer in the clean up. Your mother looked at you again with pride when you told her to go on ahead and that you’d meet her home later after finishing here. If only she knew your true intentions.

Getting Father Miguel away from his parish was another story. You were washing your hands in the kitchen sink as the last of the trash was being taken out. Discretion was attempted as you stole glances at him helping others with their things and wishing them a blessed evening. At one point he catches your eye and his conviction nearly crumbles, but to you he maintains his composure. He gives you the aforementioned signal of a nod and shaky smile and you dry your hands before excusing yourself from one of the church members on your street. You make it seem as though you’re leaving for the night, but head towards the opposite end of the hall when the dining room door closes behind you.

You try to keep your nerves together as you enter the room on the far left end. You try not to think about Father Steen’s name on the door. You try not to hear the innocent farewells and blessings from the other side of the church. You try to look away from the surrounding symbols of sacrifice for sins you were actively committing. You try to calm yourself and your racing mind as you settle in the chair opposite to the one at the desk.

Curiosity temporarily overtakes your other worries when you crane your neck to see the pages that are open on the desk in front of you. It’s obvious what book it is but it’s hard to tell what chapter given it’s upside down, eleven size font, and single-spaced.

You don’t notice the noise completely dying down in the other room as you scan the office. You’ve never actually been in this office so you don’t know what belongs to Father Steen or the deacon. You do recognize the Catholic vestments that were worn by the elder but there was one you hadn’t seen that was separated from the others.

You could tell as you approached that it was much more fancy than the humble ones worn by either of the church heads. Its red satin underside was soft and silky against your inquisitive, yet careful, fingertips. The emerald green top portion was trimmed and detailed in intricate golden lacework. Embroidered red and white flowers weaved with golden stems and darker woven patterns accentuated the colors even further. It was sturdy and seemed handmade as you held the matching stole that hung from the hook beside it.

A knock on the door brought you back to reality and you murmured a ‘come in’. Funny how he was knocking to come into his own office.

He opened the door and walked through the threshold - the top of his head not even an inch away from the frame of the door. He saw you standing by the robes and smiled. He approached you and looked at the robe with you, feeling the fabric himself.

“This chasuble is a Spanish cut. It came from the priest that ran an orphanage in the city and it was a gift to me when he passed.” There’s reverence in his voice as he explains the importance of the robe, and the true weight of the words doesn’t go unnoticed to you. There’s still so much you didn’t know about him.

“Obviously it’s way too fancy for regular service but I always carry it with me. Bring it out for weddings and Easter. Best part? It’s got pockets.” You share a laugh as he wiggles his fingers in a hidden pouch along the inner lining on the front of the robe. He wiggles his eyebrows as well making you laugh more. The sound of it makes him beam at you and you can’t help but feel whiplash from the range of expression he’s given in such a short time.

From a near blubbering mess just from your lips, to this coy attitude now after congregating with his congregation. That tingle returns to your gut at his confident smile and you think of what was going through his mind when you left to come into the office. Did he watch you leave as he shook hands and embraced his newfound flock? Did he feel any impatience with the others who hung on his words? Did he have a change of heart and is attempting to let you down gently? You understood that this was a big No-No in his vocation… maybe post-kiss clarity and being surrounded by the ones trusting his judgment was making him have second thoughts.

Your doubts cause you to speak up, unfortunately spoiling the upbeat mode but you had to make your concerns known.

“I don’t want to make you do something you’ll regret.” His smile fades at the comment as you continue, “you could lose your job.”

He turns towards you from the garments you were admiring.

“Think of the consequences…” you stamper as listens to you, “you could lose the influence and respect you have amongst your fellow brothers in preisthood.” You brace yourself on the chair behind you as you slowly back up past it. He follows you closely.

“Breaking your vows would be a sacrilege.” Your back hits the desk but the deacon still approaches you. “You could be cast out.”

His hands are on your hips and face and your breathing quickens as he leans in, his voice a husky whisper, “For a nonbeliever, you’ve really done your research.”

You know his cocky demeanor is only temporary; when you start kissing again he’ll be back to incoherence. It doesn’t stop you from blushing up at his towering frame.

“Are you sure you want this? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…” he says and starts to pull away as he had before, so careful not to overstep. Again you put your hands on his chest and it takes everything in you not to squeeze the muscular pecs stretching the front of his shirt.

“I want this. So badly. What I don’t want is you feeling guilty. I know what I want but I also know what is right. I don’t want to be the cause of any turmoil or strain in your spirituality. I’ve caused too much wrong to be the reason you break sacred vows important to you.” You both cling to each other against the desk.

“How could I regret this?” He asks so quietly it’s like he’s asking himself, or silently asking God. “Are matters of the heart to be ashamed of?” The storm in his eyes brewed at the idea of even having to explain himself and his feelings to someone above him in the church. For a man who has never been married, never seen God in the loving embrace of another, to try and tell him what love couldn’t be. How could he be expected to turn away from the act of God placed before him now? How do those in the church not see that to love Him, to truly flourish in His image, is to cherish and admire His other creatures? He scans your face and the hand there moves to gently hold your hands on his chest. How badly he wished to banish any doubt clouding your mind.

“I don’t know how else to explain it other than I have developed a deep connection and affection with you and I wish to learn more, so much more.” His breathing is slightly ragged and you feel the rise and fall under your hands. “Your confession, if you still feel the same, makes it nearly impossible for me to deny this anymore.”

“I cannot deny my feelings and continue to serve the church in a capacity that forbids me from you.” You’re speechless at the words and the abrupt honesty. “I’m making these decisions with my eyes wide open.”

“Deacon, I-“ you begin, but he cuts in to say,

“Please, call me Miguel. Not sure how much longer I’ll be a Deacon after this gets out…” He can’t hold back now that you’re alone so he kisses you because he can. Because there is nothing to hold him back from doing so, and your lips feel so good pressed to his. Hearing you say his name causes a low groan to come from his throat and he parts when you frantically protest against his lips.

“What do you mean? No, no one can know! Not yet… oh my god what would my mom think?! She’d believe I corrupted you, and I have, haven’t I?” Your nervousness and the fact that you were more afraid of the judgment from your mother than that of God Almighty made him chuckle again as he nuzzled into your neck and laid kisses up to your ear.

“Corruption and change are not the same. You have brought about a change in me. While I no longer feel I am the same man I once was before meeting you, I am happy for it.” He moves a hand slowly up your back to cradle your head and he feels like King Solomon taking his Queen to bed in Song of Songs as he kisses your neck.

Your neck is like the tower of David,

built with courses of stone;

on it hang a thousand shields,

all of them shields of warriors.

“Please,” He whispers into your ear and takes the lobe between his lips in a tease, “let me reveal my devotion to you.”

Your only response is your fingers entwining in his hair and a gasp, but it’s enough for him to capture your lips again. This time he wastes no time easing your mouth open with his tongue.

Your lips drop sweetness

as the honeycomb,

milk and honey are under your tongue.

He hasn’t had a woman in his arms like this is such a long time. Excitement overcomes him and his hands aren’t sure where to rest on your body. He wants to learn you only by touch. Allowing himself to be led blindly by faith in your embrace. He cups your breasts over your shirt and moans open mouthed into the kiss. You mewl at the abandonment of restraints you both had been holding yourselves back with. You’re not too lost to the feeling of his hands sliding back down and under your shirt. He traces your spine up and down and grabs at newfound flesh.

“You’re skin… tan suave.” He’s breathless again from the frenzy of kisses and touches he’s covering you in. He nearly loses it wondering how soft the rest of you was. The thought brings his fingers to your bra and he undoes the clasp there. He pulls away to see them fall slightly and his teeth dig into his bottom lip and he nearly growls before pulling your shirt up to reveal the loosened bra still veiling your breasts. His eyes are hungry, but he still asks, “May I?”

You’re frustrated at how long this is taking. Usually this sort of thing is a quick ordeal without all this checking in. You take a deep breath and remind yourself who you’re dealing with. You reassure him with a curt, “No more asking.”

Something snaps in his brain and he’s pulling your bra off and quickly replacing the cups with his own hands. He massages them both, lifting them lightly to feel their weight and admiring how your nipples react to the exposure to air and his fingers. The theories of intelligent, immaculate design are confirmed to him as he gazes at them and appreciates them.

At first, you’re on edge about the intensity in his eyes as he looks over you. Then you realize that you don’t know the last time he’s been with someone and that you just aren’t used to time being taken on you. You attempt to regulate your breathing and relax but when he gently tweaks the buds of your breasts between his large fingers your back arches.

He nearly drools at the sight of your body’s reaction and brings the hardened nipple into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the tip and caught it in a suckle. You moan and the last thing he sees before your shirt drops over his head is you tossing your head back. He grins devilishly and grazes his teeth over the sensitive nub before moving to give the other some attention. He doesn’t leave it unattended for long when his fingers run his remaining spit over the delicate pucker.

You pull your shirt up and off, discard it somewhere in the room. You couldn’t go any longer without the enticing image of his face in your chest. His lips parted briefly from your right tit so he could mumble, “Dios, me encantan tus tetas…”

The praise and slightly blasphemy of the Lord’s name used in marvel of your body made your head spin. His free hand gripped your hip, then the flesh of your back, ghosting over your soft belly. His fingertips then slip into the hem of your pants and trail fire in their wake. You buck your hips involuntarily and ignore the dig of the desk in your back side.

He pulls away to see your face and the feedback your body gives him. He accepts it eagerly and continues to tease and pull at your pantyline while pinching and pulling at your nipples.

“Please, Miguel-,” The breathlessness in your voice and the flush of your face makes his already hard dick twitch in the restriction of his pants. His name in that sweet, needy tone made him moan out a ‘yeah?’

“I need you.” Your eyes are glazed from the pleasures he’s bestowing upon you. A sheen of sweat shines on your bare chest from the heat of the moment. Your body is on fire and this is only second base. The sensitivity levels of you both were turned up high, but maybe the taboo of it all was causing such an intense reaction. Or maybe you were feeling the same fervent connection he revealed to feel for you. The same string pulling you to one another.

Any resemblance of control fell away from him completely at your pleading pout. His lips crashed down onto yours again and an image of you he’d had in his mind many times flashed and he knew what you needed.

His hand swiftly unbuttons your jeans and the sound of the zipper is in slow motion as he inhales your breathy moans and pleas. His hands move to either side of you and he peels the denim off your burning skin.

He pulls away from you and looks in your eyes as he begins to lower himself. He kisses every inch of newly revealed skin. You’re suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious because you haven’t had a need to do any sort of landscaping for a while. This hadn’t exactly been planned. You look down at your nearly naked body and blush at how he is still completely clothed. You see the dance of his curls as he pulls the jeans off your feet. Then he’s on his knees.

This man of God, in his uniform of black with the white collar slightly askew, knelt before you as if you were an altar to pray to. His hands roamed from your ankles up to your thighs and then down your backside. He squeezes the flesh all over and they never truly settle in one place. He’s intent on learning each curve and dedicating every mole to memory. He catches your eyes and is emboldened by the lust in them so he leans up to press kisses along your abdomen. He murmurs against your tummy at how beautiful you are and how you can stop him at any time. Then, his fingers are hooked around the sides of your panties and he begins to slide them down.

He can’t help but take his time. There were a couple reasons. The first was this was simply too amazing to rush. He’d been in situations like this, and knowing what was coming next excited him. Pulling you out your jeans and spreading your legs brought wafts of your scent into his nose. The aroma was robust and earthy and it drew him in as your panties came down. It had been so long… the smell of your heat made him nearly light-headed but he inhaled deeply. He couldn’t get enough. He had to taste you.

Your panties were still around your knees when he buried his face into your pubic hair and took a deep breath in. You nearly buckled in embarrassment but his arms wrapped around your legs to bring you to his face even more so. He hugged your crotch for a moment and the smells went straight to his cock. It’d been so long since he’d been presented with such a pretty pussy and he had to appreciate the moment.

He pulls you out your panties the rest of the way and pushes you back against the desk. The back of his hand presses to your inner leg and you oblige him by spreading them both for him to get a better look. He sighs as he sits back on his heels and admires the image that has been in his mind for the last couple weeks. The offering of your own communion already glistening from the heavy petting and kissing is more captivating than his imagination could ever be. He paws at the hardness in his jeans and takes a mental image for later.

Motivated by the hunger in his eyes and the way his eyes move in the need to see it all, you start to lose the voice in your head that makes you worry about your body. You bring your hand down and spread your lips a little for him, a little moan escaping you. He nods as if being given instruction and wordlessly brings his mouth to you.

You cry out his name from the touch of his lips to your sensitive flesh. He’s simply kissing the parts you presented to him so graciously. You lean back and brace yourself more on the desk as his hands come up to massage your inner thighs. He moves lower and looks up at you before dragging his tongue slowly up from your seeping pussy to your clit. Your hips buck again and he grins deviously.

The grin and his lewd teasing showed a transformation in the man, as if this part of him laid dormant just beneath the surface of sacredness. His eyes seemed to shift to an alarming red in the lighting. His fingers dug into you like claws. His teeth seemed more pointed when he flashed those wicked grins up at you. He was the one on his knees, but he was the dominant force.

He brought his hands to his new heaven and spread the pearly gates with his thumbs. He blew gently on the exposed, heated skin and you whined from the lack of friction.

Blow on my garden,

that its fragrance may spread everywhere.

Let my beloved come into his garden

and taste its choice fruits.

The stretch of your legs and the wetness that shone between them looked so inviting. He massaged his thumbs up and down, rubbing your lips together and then apart again. His mouth watered at the sight and he licked his lips.

“You’re so wet for me…” he breathed the words before plunging into your waters. The tension, teasing, and time carefully taken on you had driven you crazy but the satisfaction of his tongue on your clit drove you mad. You arched your back and placed your hands on his broad shoulders, the pleasure bringing you to smile and moan in delirium. No longer were you worried about his job, the way you looked, or if he was interested in you as much as you were into him. He was definitely proving that now as he at you out like his last supper.

You surmised that he had to have had some kind of experience with this as you gawk at the expert movements of his tongue. At first, he prodded with the relaxed muscle to test the waters. Now, he was buried into you up to his nose. His tongue would flatten when he wanted a wider range of flavor and you’d feel the large pad lapping you up. Then he would tighten it and drag circles around your clit, sometimes licking into your tightness as if he were starved. He took note of how your body twitched when he pushed his tongue inside you to taste the velvety smoothness of your tight walls. He saw how you jerked with too much stimulation on your delicate bud. He groaned at the sight of your body moving above him, the way your hair hung in your face. The vibration of his convulsing tongue inside you as he groans makes you toss your head back and chant Miguel, Miguel,…

Fueled by the mantra of his name, Miguel goes back to swirling around your clit. He decided his tongue isn’t long enough to feel as deep inside you as he’d like and pushes his middle finger into you halfway. The promise of penetration causes you to grind on the finger and consequently onto his face as well.

He’s sometimes closing his eyes as if he’s in prayer while consuming communion. But the buck of your hips and your weight shifting down on him made his eyes snap open so he could watch your immodesty through lustful eyes. He pulled as you pushed, maintaining the single digit only halfway. He wanted to take his time feeling you and becoming acquainted with what you had so graciously offered to him. When he pulls away from you to speak, the sight of his puffy lips and chin shining with your wetness nearly makes you fall forward.

“Be patient, please,” his voice drips with desperation, “it’s been so long.”

You let out a low whimper but complain no further when he wraps his lips around your clit again and starts moving his finger inside you deeper, finally. You arch your back and your fingers entangle in his hair.

Your light pulling on his hair pulls another moan out of him and he can’t help but rub the underside of himself as he pleasures you. Your wet noises make him want to bathe in your scent and sleek walls. Your moans make his cock twitch in his tightening pants. He flattens his tongue on your swollen clit and languidly licks around and at it directly. He greedily adds another finger so he can gauge just how tight your opening is, but has to ease it in slowly as you cry out.

“Ooh, so tight.. so wet..” He murmurs against your slick as he wiggles the two fingers inside you. “Todo para mí?” This could easily be interpreted as coy, but the tone is earnest. He truly feels blessed with the gifts you’ve so graciously given. He flicks the tip of his cock over the pants as he sweeps his fingers to graze a particularly delicate spot inside you. As soon as his fingers touch that bumpy groove you see stars in your vision. The direct stimulation to your most sensitive space and this new sensation was nearly overwhelming.

“Miguel, ‘s too much.” You pant and attempt to push him off for some reprieve.

He lifts his head with worry in his eyes. His fingers straighten and pump inside you at a grudgingly slow pace. The slightly sweaty strands of hair stick to your thighs as he gently rests his head on it. Leaning on his devotion.

“I just want to make you feel good.” His eyes trail back to watch the way your pussy clings to his fingers when he pulls them out slowly. He seems entranced with the way you stick to his fingers even when they aren’t inside you. You look down to watch the lewd scene and see just how hard his cock is and how he’s got a grip on it through the clothes he’s still fucking wearing. “As good as you make me feel.”

You melt at the words and when his thumb comes up to press around your glistening pearl. He slid it across the top, just above the screaming bud, as if flipping through the thin pages of the Good Book. He ghosted over the area you found tried and true when you were doing this alone and your body, your voice let him know.

He slides his fingers back inside, unable to hold back any longer. His pace is shaky at first, but becomes stable again.

“Mmm, is that good for you?” He begins rubbing small circles in the spot you so beautifully inclined him towards. You nod and moan in response and then he asks you something that nearly knocks you off the table:

“Will you please cum for me?” He asks between heavy breaths that feel warm on your slit. He wondered how you looked, felt, smelled, sounded, and moved when you orgasmed. When he first placed that wafer in your mouth he wanted to be the reason that it happened. He wanted his name to be the one you called out. “Fuck, I need you to…” the curse and the words from the holy man made your insides twist and burn. The steady driving into your core and thumb on that sweet spot causes you to close your eyes and roll your hips with the rhythm.

He says your name and your eyes snap open again.

“Look at me.”

The way his large body slumps between your legs and the background of Catholicism surrounding the two of you hits a dirty switch in your brain and you’re nearing the edge. He can tell by the tightening of the muscles in your thighs and the way they nearly straighten out to give yourself more purchase.

“Just like that. You’re so close aren’t you, tell me.” You cry out a yes!! through your gaped mouth.

“Cum f’me, please. Cum for me just like this. Just for me.”

The words, the perfect pace of his fingers, the way he’s looking up at you… you reach your climax and fight to keep your eyes open as he asked.

Through your lashes you see that he’s grinning up at you. Your slick still on his mouth and stringing between his lips. The type of grin that shouldn’t be on a priest’s face. That’s two things that shouldn’t be on his face now as he licks around his pumping fingers to devour the flow of juices he’s poured out of you.

Your thighs clench around his head and your body spasms, he pulls his mouth away to look up at you between the trap of your thighs.

“Yesss, just like that you look so good. Such a good girl.” He mumbles with a mouth full of your slickness.

He moves his thumb off the hood of your pulsing nub to not overstimulate you, but his fingers remain inside you. The way you pulsed and squeezed around him mesmerized him. He matched the pulses to the grip on his length in a futile attempt to simulate the intoxicating spasms brought onto you by just his hands.

He tries to memorize the heartbeat of your warm burrow as it begins to ease on your come down. He’ll try to emulate the sensation later - on himself - but he knows and dreads the fact that it would not compare to the readied womanhood presented to him. He bites his bottom lip and groans.

You notice how he holds himself and you can’t pull your eyes away from the tent he’s holding back in his pants. Your arms, still a little shaky, move down and you grab his face. You pull a little and he obliges and stands again. He snakes his large arms around your naked body and doesn’t seem to care about any mess you might leave on him. You pull his face to yours and kiss him. His puffy lips are warm against yours and when your tongues touch you taste yourself and feel another coil form in your gut. You pull away and tell him, in a raspy voice,

“I need you. All of you. Please?” Encouraged by your orgasm, you reach your hand down to grab the erection that’s been begging for you.

He hissed your name through his teeth at the sensation and grabs your wrist. He was already embarrassingly close to his own orgasm after having watched you and toyed with himself. Your grip on him made his knees nearly buckle.

His protest made you worry and your arm seized in its place. You let go of him and stare up into his eyes to see where you went wrong with him.

“What’s wrong, Miguel?” The concern in your voice makes him bore his eyes into yours.

“Nothing, no, nothings wrong. You did nothing wrong. I do want this, oh God, you don’t know how badly…” It’s almost as if he’s gasping the words. Your touch, it set him on fire. But, he didn’t think he should, or could, have you the way he really wanted. Not now. Not here. “There’s something you should know. It’s not embarrassing for me, but it’s important you know.”

The seriousness in his tone has you scanning his face for any more information. He says your name and then reveals the truth and you’re left speechless. His tone is matter of fact, the words shocking.

**

**

**

“I’m a virgin.”

You are a garden locked up;

you are a spring enclosed,

a sealed fountain.

Taglist: IT WONT LET ME TAG MORE THAN 50 I’m crying I’m so sorry I’ll try commenting tagging the rest

@soniajustneedssimping @venusisajpeg @cassidysbbg @haveclayeveryday @fishtail111 @sirbird @thecrowstears @elizzybeth-2005 @tayleighuh @crispypugfs @trashcansally @cheezit-luv3rr @marsout @eliiilamar @hamuuko @jagawriterr @oharaswifexx @limenysnocket @xthejazzdalorianx @y0mill @livingmeat @stranded-dream @its-oevy @be-be-la-la @jxylxx @usagijoestar @queenofroses22 @zaunsin @ceoofmiguel @otomebois @fairycwhores @killakungfu-wolfbitch @buffalolover10177 @jaywalksalloverme @jalxnnie @deepinballs @vomitsama @aurora-burrow @wlalspj @tieonatrenchcoat @cicato @firstghostempathtaco @yallhearsm @mumbi-222 @carmenxhuuuu @dv-ocean-blog @multi-fandom-chick-blog1 @jellybeansupmyass @cheyjellyfish @elyissly @laikve @coffeejellypng @staycgoindown @variouslyalloya @redflame5975 @botchedlove @thatoneenchilada @buck-uwu @donnie-spectacular

Chapter 5? It might take some time tho…

#fanfic #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #priest!miguel #miguel x reader #priest au #miguel x you #atsv smut #finally! #sorry lol #chapter 4

[sarathrwizard]

Chapter 4 is in the works!

Healing and adapting is hard on everyone. Sometimes you can fix things, and sometimes you have to except the outcome.

Ugh! This hurts my soul! 😢

#rottmnt #riseofthetmnt #saverottmnt #donnie #leo #raph #mikey #angst #fanfiction #comic #Chapter 4 #Cover art #i care comic #sad

[shepherds-of-haven]

the five faceless lords that mc destroyed through magic watching them use their first and only word of power to cure a tree: 👿👿👿👿👿

Buubas having been KO'd by a ton of water before he could even get out of bed:

#buubas seeing MC heal a tree: are you fucking kidding me #Shepherds of Haven #silly #spoilers #heavy #chapter 8.5 #alpha build #alpha preview #chapter 4

[nature-nerd-sarah]

Okay, now they're just doing fanservice

#bocchi the rock! #kikuri gaiden #manga #spoilers #bocchi spoilers #chapter 4 #kikuri #kikuri hiroi #hiroi kikuri #seika #seika ichiji #pa-san

[azertyrobaz]

Happy 4 Year anniversary to The Mandalorian's Chapter 4 - Sanctuary, and one of my favorite Star Wars couples.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #omera #pedro pascal #julia jones #mandomera #chapter 4 #sanctuary #sorgan #star wars #they're so cute #my edits

[ddwcaph-game]

Chapter 4 & 5 is finally out!

The wait is finally over. Grab your plot armor, Chapter 4 and 5 of Dear Diary, We Created a Plot Hole! is finally here!

🚌 Play it here! 🚌

To celebrate the release, a +50% ✨EXP Bonus Event will be running for the next couple of weeks!

The full change log is over 500 lines long, so here's an overview of all the new stuff:

🌈 UPDATE HIGHLIGHTS

~ 509,000 total wordcount (including code) ~ 278,000 additional words (including code) ~ New average playthrough of 115,000 words!

New Stuff to Discover!

52 New Secrets to discover, 8 New Trinkets to collect, 12 New Achievements

30 New Character Traits, 15 New Heritage Passives, 3 New Phobias, 16 New Status Effects

3 New Main Quests, 12 New Sidequests

and 1 New Song to sing along to!

New Scenes!

Introductions to Wayne, Lily, and JM's parents!

New exclusive bestfriend scenes!

Get a sneak peek into the story worlds you'll visit in future, in the Story Exchange!

Revamped crush confession scene with your twin!

Steal a kiss on the cheek from your crush!

Catch a preview of Chapter 6!

New Choices and Customization!

Choose the name of MC's dad!

Choose a second bestfriend, other than your twin (and give them a custom nickname)!

You can now choose to have two different pronoun sets!

Choose a mild swear word for your MC

Added B as a crush option

Tons of Diary and Stat Improvements!

New, updated, and expanded character diary entries!

New unlockable codex entries!

Write custom post-scripts in your diary!

Added new toggle settings for simple/detailed view of traits/passives, and background transitions

New trait option that reduces the frequency and gives additional context to Filipino expressions

Improved diary and stat notification layout

So Much More!

Added lots of new character art!

Added gameplay tips!

Lots of references to In Auctorem Credimus!

Roselyna is now approximately 20% more huggable!

---

I've also updated the Trinkets & Secrets Guide, as well as the Twin Character Templates!

If you encounter any errors, or have any questions or feedback, feel free to send me an ask! I'll go through my ask backlog after I have recovered from the update.

I hope it was worth the wait! 😊

#dear diary we created a plot hole #ddwcaph #ddwcaph updates #amare #amare game #amare dev #if #if wip #if game #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #choicescript #dashingdon #chapter 4 #chapter 5

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Hell's Assumptions

A/N – Okay, I think that’s everyone on the tagging list. So, here’s to Chapter 4. Raise a glass.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

FEMALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

TAG LIST: @lxkeeeee @moonieper

People were staring.

The worst part was, you weren’t sure who they were staring at, you or Lucifer. It could have easily been him since he was the King of Hell, and even those who didn’t immediately recognise him could sense the power he exuded. However, it was just as likely that they were looking at you and wondering who you were, and how you had managed to get their ruler to walk with you, especially since he wasn’t known for going out much.

Fortunately, when people saw Lucifer coming, they moved to the other side of the street, staring, whispering, taking pictures, but keeping a safe distance.

Lucifer was used to this kind of thing. He walked confidently, held a charming smile, and was generally non-plussed by the attention. You, on the other hand, felt awkward.

‘This was my idea,’ You mentally reminded yourself.

You tried to hold onto that thought as you attempted to strike up a conversation.

“So… What’s it like in the Embassy building?” You asked, quickly realising that it was a terrible topic as Lucifer’s smile became a glower.

You shouldn’t have reminded him where he was going. It was obvious he hated Heaven for their treatment of him, yet yearned for it and the life he had lost within its pearly gates where nothing went wrong for anyone.

“Sorry,” You said hurriedly. “I didn’t think- uh, nice weather we’re having?”

Lucifer smiled and shook his head. He couldn’t believe you. Only the night before, you had told him to grow up, with such confidence, and now here you were struggling for words. He bypassed the awkward situation with ease by asking, “Will you be visiting the Hotel today?”

“Oh, uh… Maybe. I would like to see everyone again. Check that Nifty hasn’t set anything on fire. Make sure that everything’s okay, and-”

You had been about to mention Angel Dust. Today was one of his work days. You would like to check that he was okay. You didn’t mention him however, with something like a confidentiality clause stopping you, though you weren’t his doctor, nor was he your patient. You didn’t want to talk about his suffering; he was more than his trauma.

Instead, you said, “I would like to check in, but maybe not today. Besides, you’ll be there tonight, won’t you?”

“Yes. I’d like to deliver the news to Charlie personally, and perhaps coach her on some of Heaven’s stricter rules.”

“Then, I think I’ll stay at the manor. I wouldn’t want to step on your toes. You and Charlie- I think you need to catch up a bit, without any interruptions. She missed you, you know.”

Lucifer ruminated on this for a minute. Whatever your motivations, he was glad that you were giving him and his daughter some space. Granted, the Hotel was large enough to house many conversations in separate areas but by making the offer of keeping your distance, you were giving Lucifer some breathing room; that was good.

Had you not made that offer, Lucifer might have brought up the topic of moving you back into the Hotel to Charlie, but in respecting his boundaries, Lucifer was starting to think that you weren’t so bad… for a Sinner.

“I missed her too.”

“Can I ask,” You said hesitantly, “What kept you away so long? You clearly think the world of her.”

Lucifer sighed, and stopped in the middle of the street, “I-”

He didn’t get to explain his absence.

Instead, he became annoyed as two Sinners, one who looked like a nine-year-old boy’s dream with bazooka arms and rocket-infused shoulders, and the other a winged bear-woman wielding a machine gun burst through the building on the opposite side of the road, waging war upon one another.

“SHIT!” You cursed, seeing the debris that threatened to crush a lone imp who hadn’t reacted quickly enough, his leg trapped under the first brick segment that fell.

Reacting quickly, you threw out your arms. A light green barrier shielded the imp from further harm, but you struggled under the weight of so much wreckage.

“MOXXIE!” A female imp yelled, running to him.

You thought she might struggle to lift the wreckage off him and were about to ask for Lucifer’s help before your barrier would inevitably crumble. Yet, the female imp was stronger than she appeared and she threw it off Moxxie. She then lifted him bridal style, and ran from the danger, shooting you a grateful look from across the street.

You gasped and shuddered as you let your arms fall, your barrier fading from existence.

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” Lucifer said as you straightened up.

“What?” You breathed heavily, recovering from the exertion; one of the weakest Demons in Hell, with your limited abilities.

“It was a nice thing to do, but what’s the point? Look around,” Lucifer threw his arms up dramatically. “Someone built something nice, and now it’s gone, all because two Sinners couldn’t take their petty power struggle somewhere else. Nobody benefits from this.”

You opened your mouth to argue but were interrupted by the same two imps you had just saved, “Hey there, I’m pretty sure my husband is delirious right now, but he wanted to come over here.”

“I’m not delirious, Millie,” Moxxie said pointedly, clinging onto her shoulder to support his weight; his leg was in all likeliness broken, but being an imp of Hell, it would heal quickly enough.

Millie looked at him sympathetically, likely thinking something along the lines of, ‘Baby, we’re the only ones on the same side of the street as His Majesty, but do what you gotta do!’

“I must thank you most humbly for your remarkable rescue in my name, good fellow,” Moxxie exclaimed pompously, probably presuming that since you were accompanied by Lucifer you were of a much higher station than you were. “Without you, I would certainly have perished, so I find it an appropriate time to extend my gratitude.”

“He means thank you,” Millie affectionately translated.

“You’re welcome,” You smiled. Then, with a small flourish of your fingers, Moxxie leg was bandaged and he was provided with a crutch to hold onto. You were no healer, but that would help the bone set correctly.

Moxxie and Millie thanked you both again, presuming that Lucifer had been part of the rescue (and in a way he was, for when the warring Demons saw him, they took their battle elsewhere), then they were gone, one limping down the street on his new crutch, and his wife offering to carry him.

“You’re wrong,” You said, once the pair were out of sight. “They benefitted.”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say about that. They were only imps. Why did you think they mattered? Yet, after watching the loving couple thank you for their rescue, Lucifer wasn’t certain that he trusted his assessment of the situation. Charlie wanted to redeem Sinners, you had just saved the lowest of all Hell’s beings and he…? He needed to reassess how he thought about things.

The two of you didn’t speak after that and Lucifer assumed that you were mad at him until you reached Heaven’s Embassy. Lucifer stared at the building, broken and hopeless, thinking about how he would have to fight for Charlie.

He was about to take the first step towards it when you rested your hand on his shoulder.

He stared at you, surprised.

“Good luck,” You proffered sympathetically. Then you walked away, and Lucifer was left staring after you. So, you weren’t mad at him after all. What a curious person you were.

He looked back to the building before him, the one place in Hell that was perfectly pristine, and unable to be harmed by anyone. After a deep breath, he headed inside.

When Lucifer returned home, he was exhausted. The meeting had been lengthy and derogatory. He had been treated with barely disguised disdain and talked in circles, but finally, Heaven had agreed to allow his daughter passage to Heaven.

It was never an option really. As the ruler of a powerful realm, Lucifer had to be treated respectfully, even if all of Heaven hated him. Yet, just because they had to acquiesce to his request didn’t mean they hadn’t tried to talk him out of it. The only good news was that it had been Sera and a few of her assistants who hosted the meeting, not that ignorant prick Adam; Lucifer hated that guy… though his taste in women had always been spectacular.

Still, it had all been worth it when he got to the hotel and Charlie thanked him and invited him to stay for a while. They had caught up over tea, and he had gotten to know a little bit more about her and her relationship with Vaggie. Lucifer likely would have stayed longer seeing as he’d also been invited to games night, but then that red-headed bastard was there, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, and Lucifer had made his reasons to leave.

Now, all he wanted was to recover in peace.

On his way upstairs, he heard the long-neglected TV blaring in one of the living rooms. Feeling somewhat guilty about his unsupportive attitude towards you earlier, he decided it would probably be good for him to make amends and apologise. So, before isolating himself for the evening, he sought you out.  

You were hunched on the sofa, watching 666 News, and grimacing at the new headline, King of Hell’s New Fuckbuddy.

Lucifer stood quietly behind you, watching as Katie Killjoy reported, “While Hell will be royally fucked by the impending extermination it seems that King of Hell Lucifer is being royally fucked by his new bimbo bitch, seen walking with him today on the streets of Pentagram City.”

Security camera footage of you and Lucifer from earlier filled the screen for a minute before returning to the hosts.

“Who is this Sinner? Does Lucifer get off on Angelic clothing? We hope to find out more soon. Over to you, Tom.”

Tom Trench continued the report, much less assuredly than his co-anchor, “Nobody can say for certain they’re together. Some speculate the Demon to be his highness’ new assistant or-”

Katie clutched Tom’s neck in one hand, never looking away from the camera as she cut off his air supply, “Nobody gives a shit about your limp-dick opinion Tom. We’re all here to speculate about who’s raw-dogging who. Now, onto our cooking segment, It’s Dahm Good, with host Jeffrey who is making a delicious spleen soufflé. Jeffrey-”

“HA!” Lucifer laughed, pointing at the TV.

“Shit!” You yelped, lurching forward, having not known he’d returned home. You turned the TV off and stood to face Lucifer.

He was doubled over and wheezing at the idea that you and he would ever be together.

“Well, at least you’re not upset about this,” You grinned, finding his good mood contagious.

“What morons. They’re always just there, assuming the weirdest shit whenever I go out,” He laughed.  

“Yeah? So, it’s okay people know we’re friends?”

Lucifer straightened up with a smile. So, you classed him as a friend? He didn’t confirm or deny your assumption of friendship. He waved his hand, unbothered, “Let them think what they want to think. It’s Hell, nothing matters. Besides, 666 News is trash.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So, how did the meeting with Heaven go? Did they agree to meet with Charlie?”

Lucifer sobered up slightly, though he didn’t seem as upset as he was earlier when Heaven was mentioned, “Yes. The meeting’s in a week. Charlie is- She’s optimistic.”

“And you?”

“I- My girl can handle it.”

“Yeah, she can.”

And so it was that you and Lucifer started to find some common ground, that slowly built the gap from two people who barely knew one another, towards friends.

#fanfiction #reader #reader insert #fanfic #male reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #sinless sinners #chapter 4 #part 4 #hell's assumptions

[swindle-comic]

#ducktales #ducktales fancomic #ty cloudkicker #swindle comic #chapter 4

[manga-meow]

#Sora wo Matotte #chapter 4 #manga #manga cap #my edits #monochrome #mangacap #manga panel #popular

[lizardboiii]

｡･:*˚:✧ANGER MANAGEMENT {Possessive!SukunaxFem!Reader}

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

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

✧Summary: Anger management was by no means your strong suit. No amount of lessons or prayers could change that. In fact, it feels like you’ve been doing a lot worse lately with the appearance of a new neighbor in your next door apartment.

✧Chapter summary: There must be something in the water~

✧Warnings: 18+, NSFW, vulgar language, non-con/dubious consent, nonconsensual drug usage, slight PTSD✧

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

｡･:*˚:✧⤷Pairing: Ryoumen Sukuna x afab!reader

｡･:*˚:✧⤷Chapters: (i) (ii) (iii) (iv) (v) (vi) (vii)

｡･:*˚:✧⤷w/c: 4.3k

｡･:*˚:✧⤷Tropes: NeighborsAU!, AncestorsAU!

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｡･:*˚:✧⤷Chapter IV : TEMPTATION

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Your body felt like it was on autopilot while you half ass grabbed an overnight bag and arbitrarily shoved essentials in. From randomly selected toothpaste to mismatched socks, you just couldn’t seem to get your thoughts to settle. Sukuna’s words took over your mind, echoing like a mantra.

“Have the desk worker call you an electrician in the morning, for now you can stay at mine.”

… stay at mine.

Your movements halted. Red in the face, you slapped a palm against your forehead to rid yourself of unwanted expectations. 

Why the hell did he even offer you that? Flustered, you racked your brain for any possible answer only to come up short.

Sukuna was a self absorbed asshole who practically lived to piss you off. If anything, you expected him to laugh in your face, then slam the door on you rather than offer you a place to stay.

You groaned to yourself and rubbed your forehead drained. What a day. You just wanted to eat dinner then pass out.

Finally working up the courage to leave the darkness of your apartment, you slugged over to Sukuna’s residence. Your throat felt tight as an almost ominous feeling leaked from the small cracks of his door, daring you to knock.

Taking a deep breath, you opened and closed your fists at the thought of what resided on the other side. A possible ending to your short lived deal with Nanami perhaps? Most definitely.

Debating on your current life choices, your eyes trailed the thin line of worn paint that just peeked past the door’s frame. Scenes of yelling and trivial disputes flashed in your lingering vision. 

Sucking in your teeth, you felt a pit grow in your stomach. It felt weird to go to his place for a reason other than to tell him off. Was it really okay for you to be there? To stay there?

But you just stayed there didn’t you?

Wrapped up in Sukuna’s arms.

Anger and resentment quelled by some unknown force.

You argued with your inner thoughts. No. That was different. You had Yuuji.

This time you were coming by your own free will. Not some accidental sleepover.

This time you made the choice. A choice to be alone with him.

My God, what was wrong with you?

Getting it over with, you moved an apprehensive fist to knock on the door. The distinctive sound was normally drowned out with every visit. However, this time the echo of the wood rang loud, traveling the length of the hallway. 

The noise almost reminded you of the tolling bells from the little church down the street. Bells which marked a new hour of reckoning.

Without haste, your pinkett neighbor opened the door with a straight face. You felt on edge at his much larger figure leaning against the doorway, but you felt even more alarmed at his appearance.

He was still shirtless.

For fuck’s sake.

Frowning, you kept your eyes trained on his ruby ones rather than allowing your eyes to lower. Terrified to trace his sharp jaw down the column of his neck to his chiseled chest which was so proudly put on display.

Thankfully, Sukuna was quick to gesture at your tense form with the nod of his head as he held the door open for you. Grateful to look at anything else, you mumbled an insincere thanks and entered.

A quick glance around the apartment’s entryway told you Sukuna’s place was just as clean as you remembered, not a shoe was out of place. You took a deep breath, and the air still held a familiar scent of pine in it.

Standing off to the side, you allowed Sukuna to lead you further into the depths of the apartment. His larger strides easily overtaking your own.

Whether it was nerves or something else entirely, your stare bore into his exposed back as a distraction from the uncomfortable atmosphere. You noted how the thick tattoos that took over his chest and arms snaked over his skin to adorn the canvas of his back. Dark and intimidating, as if they were mimicking their owner.

Sudden movement from Sukuna made you bite your lip at the flex of his muscles. Quickly casting your gaze to the floor, you frowned. 

Put on some clothes, whore.

“Here.”

You jolted in surprise when Sukuna's voice broke the prolonged silence. Casually, he propped himself up on his forearm against his opened fridge and held out a small bowl wrapped in saran wrap. 

Leftovers.

Though you wanted to be offended, you couldn’t help but feel a small prick in your heart at the unexpected gesture. The last meal you ate at his place tasted like heaven. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to eat Sukuna’s cooking again.

Gingerly grabbing the bowl, you smiled down at it softly, “Thanks.”

Sukuna answered you with a curt grunt before trudging off. Ignoring the blatant inhospitality, you threw your night bag on the ground and sat at one of the bar stools tucked neatly under the overhang of the kitchen island. 

Peering at your covered bowl, you felt your stomach growl at the sight of Zaru Soba. Best eaten after chilling for 30 minutes on the dot - no less - was your mother’s saying.

A faint frown carved its way onto your face. Resting your head against your hand, you began to twirl a fork around the noodles, idly picking at them. Soba was your mother’s favorite but it was also hers-

“Don’t tell me, you're a picky eater? How childish can you get?”

You snapped out of your daydream at the sound of a rough voice. Finding its owner, you glared at Sukuna who now held a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other.

“I’m not a picky eater, asshole. Just tired.”

Sukuna let out a puff of air, “Tired, huh? Then this,”

He placed down a bottle of dark red wine, “Should wake you up.”

Giving the wine an amused look, you picked the bottle up and studied it. An Italian name you couldn’t pronounce etched itself onto varnish. You whistled in your mind. Expensive shit for someone who lived in this dump.

Humming, you finished off another forkful, “Thanks but no thanks. I don’t work well with alcohol.”

“What?” A devilish smirk pulled at Sukuna’s lips, “Can’t handle a little wine.”

Irritated at the obvious blow to your ego, you slammed your fork down and growled, “I can handle my shit just fine.”

Sukuna filled a glass and handed it to you with a taunt, “Prove it then.”

An idiot could figure out what Sukuna’s game was. But as it always did, your pride got the better of you. Though, chugging your first glass in spite might have been a stretch.

Sukuna merely chuckled at your competitive nature and refilled your glass before pouring his own. You were quick to continue to sip on the wine as you finally began to finish off your Soba. 

In all honesty, you needed a bit of a buzz to finish off the familiar noodles. They held too many memories. 

Spinning the noodles around your fork, you watched as they slowly morphed. Their golden brown color suddenly looked a lot more like thick locks of hair. 

Dirty blonde hair. 

Your form went rigid as you let go of your fork. The utensil clanked against the porcelain bowl with a sharp ring, piercing your ears. 

Blurred flashes of red and blue entered and exited your vision with a disturbing uncertainty. Immediately, a panicked feeling began to overwhelm you as muffled music and laughter invaded your ears so loud you thought a night club might have been built inside your head.

Taking a deep breath, you counted down from ten before glancing back at your bowl. The locks of golden returned to their stringy noodle state and the music no longer played. Everything was back to normal.

Still shaken, you grabbed your glass of wine and chugged again, drinking away an unwanted memory.

“It won’t run away from you.”

Already annoyed, you put the glass down harshly and scowled, “I know. A lot on my mind is all.”

Sukuna scoffed, “You actually think?”

Against your will, a small smile tugged at your lips, “Pour me another glass and I might fill you in on these wonderful thoughts of mine.”

Obeying your request, Sukuna shrugged, “I can’t lie, I’m a bit interested in what rats think about in their free time.”

You threw him a mocking look, “A lot more than pink haired bastards.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, “Indulge me.”

Tracing the rim of your glass you hummed, “You know, I used to go to the same university as Yuuji.”

“You graduated from Yuuji’s school?” Sukuna lifted his glass to take another small sip.

“No.”

Abruptly Sukuna’s eyes fixated on you, almost too interested.

You casted your gaze to the marbled counter, “I dropped out.”

“Why?”

Finishing off the rest of your bitter drink, you let out an exaggerated sigh. In an instant your glass was refilled, slightly higher than the last.

“A scuffle, I guess you could say,” Swirling the newly poured glass, you watched as the red liquid brushed the edge of the glass dangerously close. 

“Scuffle?”

Your nose burned as you took another glutinous swig. Leaning against your plan, the world shifted slightly, practically disorienting you. Ah, looks like you’ve got that buzz you were aiming for.

“Ya, a scuffle.”

You yawned before the feeling of a glass being pushed against your fingertips made you pick it up. Sipping the half empty glass your brows furrowed.

When did you drink this much? 

Glancing up at Sukuna you noticed he was still on his first glass, its contents barely touched. Bemused, you turned your gaze to his face only for your heart to skip a beat. Sukuna’s eyes thinned as they watched you closely, almost intimate.

“What sort of scuffle?”

“…Some girl…no…friend. Though I guess not friends anymore.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, “She ran her mouth to much and I just-”

You stared into the pool of red in your glass, its color reminiscent of the man in front of you. Blushing, you shook your head to clear your drifting thoughts.

Why the hell were you even telling him this? It wasn’t like you were some school girls who liked gossiping. Though in all honesty, it was nice you were actually able to talk to the man normally.

“Just what?”

Looking away from your wine you stared up at Sukuna’s empty spot. Instead, his form took shape close behind you. His larger hand placed itself next to your own as he hovered above you, inching closer. 

When did he get so close?

Your head spun as you moved a hand up to rub your forehead. Shit. You knew you hadn’t drank in a while but how were you this drunk already? Did you somehow revert back to some lightweight?

Your thoughts were interrupted as firm fingers placed themselves on your jaw, tilting your head up.

“Just,” Sukuna leaned in further, “What?”

“I just…”

Sharp cologne made you dizzy as you lost yourself in Sukuna’s closeness. The curve of his lips beckoning you to lean closer.

“Gave in.”

In an instant Sukuna’s lips were on yours. He held your face firmly as he devoured the wine still stained on your lips.

You gasped slightly at the aggressive treatment and moved your hand to his chest. The feeling of his bare skin against your own somehow made you feel drunker as need shot its way down your spine.

Entranced, your mind danced in circles as Sukuna easily slipped his tongue between your lips, massaging your own. You could barely keep up with his pace as your vision blurred and grip tightened.

Sensually, Sukuna’s other hand traced down your side before settling on the curve of your waist. You shivered at the size of it. Large and powerful. 

Everything about him was.

Your mind melted as you gave into primal desires and allowed Sukuna to take you in his arms. Wrapping your own arms around his neck, the clashing of your lips never wavered.

Suddenly, you let out a surprised squeak when you bounced against something plush. Letting yourself sink into the thick duvet, you watched Sukuna climb over your body through hazy eyes.

When did you get into the bedroom?

Your concerns were quickly replaced by pleasure as Sukuna began sucking and kissing down your neck, as if starved of your flesh. You whined as he pursued lower down your nape, reaching the beginnings of your breasts. 

With a muddled mind, you hardly noticed as your shirt was disposed of leaving you in your bra, bold black with enough lace to strangle a man. A choice you would later thank your past self for choosing in a hurry that morning.

Despite the accidental effort, Sukuna was quick to remove the clothing item as well before taking a moment to stare at your exposed chest.

His tongue grazed against his teeth as he flashed a wild smile, “Damn, Princess. I should’ve gotten you undressed sooner.”

You blushed at the unusual endearing nickname before slurring over your words, “First and last.”

Sukuna chuckled, “We’ll see about that.”

Your body trembled when he suddenly leaned down and took one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, nipping and twisting at your skin. You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a shy moan.

Annoyingly, you could feel Sukuna grin against your chest as he brought his other hand up to your neglected bud. He swiped a rough thumb across your nipple before mercilessly rolling it between his fingers.

You whined as his hands and mouth worked you open. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you rubbed your legs together, desperate for friction. For release.

The growing heat in your stomach combined with the mist in your mind was starting to become too much. 

“Aw.”

You whimpered at Sukuna’s deep voice.

“Does my Princess need some relief?”

An embarrassing sob escaped your mouth at his usage of ‘my’. 

“P-Please.”

Smirking, Sukuna pushed his knee between your legs, “Earn it, Princess.”

You froze at the sudden pressure. Sukuna playfully rubbed your growing heat tauntingly.

“Come on,” his lips ghosted up your neck, “be good and I’ll help out a bit.”

Hesitating, you gently moved your hips up and started to slowly rub your aching heat against his knee. A spark shot up your spine as you tentatively began to pick up your pace.

“That’s it.”

Sukuna’s words encouraged your growing confidence. You bit back a moan as you rutted against him harder, wanting to be good. To please him.

“Keep going for me, Princess.”

Forgetting your pride, you gripped his shoulders in a tight grasp as you frantically sought after stimulation. The rapid jerk in your hips grew as a knot began to form in your stomach, his knee edging you.

Abruptly, Sukuna bit down on your nipple harshly, drawing blood. 

You whimpered as the action almost sent you over the edge, “Please.”

Sukuna lapped the blood up, “You're doing so good for me.”

Like a trigger, white flashed behind your eyes as your hips began to twitch and move on their own. With a silent moan, the cord in your stomach violently snapped.

“Good girl.”

Your body dropped to the bed as you let out heavy breaths. The uncomfortable feeling of wetness in your pants was almost enough to sober you up before strong hands hooked around your waist band.

Sukuna ripped off your pants and underwear in one swipe before throwing the soiled garments to the floor with a soft thump. The action making you shiver at the sudden rush of cold air. 

Embarrassment filled your cheeks as you watched Sukuna loom over your bare form with greedy eyes.

Quickly clamping your legs together, you heard Sukuna chuckle, “Don’t be shy now, Princess.”

You bit your lip as Sukuna placed a large hand on either knee and pushed your legs apart, exposing your already dripping cunt.

A wolfish look took hold of Sukuna’s face as he licked his lips. Your heart clenched at the sight, almost telling you to run. Unfortunately, your body felt too heavy and your mind too groggy.

Roughly, Sukuna swung your legs over his shoulders as he bent down. Your vision spotted at the sudden movement before completely going out. 

Opening heavy eyelids, you cried out when you returned to something soft licking up your folds. Glancing down, you flushed at the sight of Sukuna, or two Sukuna’s as your vision swirled.

His four hands were firmly placed on your thighs as he ate you out, six eyes locked on your own. With the flick of his tongue, you threw your head back against a pillow as he began to swirl his tongue against your aching bud.

Clinging to the bed sheets, incomprehensible words spilled from your agape mouth as you tried to beg for mercy. Hot tears steamed down the curve of your cheek as your eyes rolled.

Trying to regain any form of consciousness, you forced your eyes to stare at the ceiling. Black dots dotted your vision once again when Sukuna’s tongue eventually made its way to your slit, entering slowly. 

It was too much. 

Your head pounded as your legs spasmed against Sukuna’s hold. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Shit.”

Sukuna’s voice felt distant in your ears as you faded in and out. Your body felt like it was shutting down.

“I must’ve put to much-”

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

“(Y/N)!!!”

You could feel your grip tighten on your coffee cup as you ignored the familiar voice. The sharp ring of it almost caused you to burst the cardboard cup half.

“HEY!!! (Y/N)!!! OVER HERE!!” The white haired professor flung his arms around wildly in an attempt to catch your attention.

Your teeth grinded as you picked up your pace. Maybe if you walked faster he would piss off.

Glancing behind you to see if he had given up yet, you choked on your own spit as you noticed him running full sprint at your agitated form.

“WHAT THE HELL???” 

Your cup crashed to the cement, spilling the left over caffeine all over the concrete as you booked it. Speeding down Main Street, you left out a strangled breath as the back of your shirt was swiftly caught by him.

The silverett laughed as he held onto the thin fabric of your shirt with his pointer and thumb. The deep chuckle could render anyone helpless.

Anyone but you.

“Professor Gojo.”

He smiled at you through pearly white teeth. The action made a knot form in your chest. It was the kind of smile that you meant. A genuine one you didn’t allow just anyone to see.

Gojo has been your professor for three years now. A Criminology professor who had unfortunately taken a strong liking to you.

“How’s it going (y/n)? I haven’t seen you in ages!” He swiped a hand through his fringe, “Almost like you were avoiding me or something!”

You were.

“We have very different schedules, Professor. I’m sure we’re all just as busy near the end of the year.”

Gojo places his hands on his hips, “Professor? What are we strangers? Call me Gojo, (y/n)! Go - jo!”

You stared at him blankly. 

Undeterred, Gojo brushed off your open hostility and slug a casual arm over your shoulders, “Always so uptight, (y/n), I can see why your always hanging around Nanamin~”

Your ears flushed as you shoved his arm off you, “Shut up.”

With the flick of his wrist, Gojo spun your body to face him, “Is that anyway to talk to your professor, (y/n)~”

You tilted your head to glare at his cocky smirk, “Is this any way to behave with a student, Professor?”

Amused, Gojo threw another smile and released his hold, “Of course, of course!”

A small smile tugged its way on your face before you quickly quelled it, “I’ve got places I need to be, what do you want?”

“Can’t a professor just say hello to one of his favorite students?”

You gave him a look.

Gojo sighed and put his hands up, “Alright, alright. You got me."

"Do not go to Shibuya.”

You quirked a brow, “Why?”

Like a switch, Gojo’s mood soured. Brows tightening, lips perusing, and the ever so faint glare of his tinted glasses told you as much.

“Stay on campus, at least for tonight.”

You laughed off his attitude, “You're telling me, a third year, to not go to the pre-graduation party tonight? The one that happens only once a year? Once a lifetime?”

“Yes.”

Baffled, you shook your head, “Not gonna happen.”

Gojo leaned closer, “I’m serious, (y/n).”

Heat sparked in your chest as you gripped your hands in tight fists, “Why?”

“Just cause.”

You snarled at his vague answer, “WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LIKE THIS?”

Gojo's demeanor pulled another 180 as he laughed at your enraged form, “I have something better planned anyway, (y/n)!”

Gojo pranced around you, “Why would you wanna go to Shibuya anyway? That place is loaded with felons!”

You clenched your jaw, “Listen Gojo, I’m going to that party whether you like it or not.”

The white haired man halted his movements, “I was afraid you’d say that.”

You stared at his pondering form in confusion. Clearly this man needs to be put on meds.

Your evaluation was only amplified as Gojo suddenly stood straight. In the blink of an eye heavy metal handcuffs snapped onto your unsuspecting wrists.

Your mouth fell agape, “THE HELL?!”

Gojo sighed as he threw your screaming form over his shoulders, “The hard way it is~”

“SATORU GOJO I SHOULD KILL YOU!”

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

You woke up from your vivid dream with a start. Whipping up from the bed, your form shook slightly as you took in deep breaths of air. The room was silent save for the quiet ringing in your ears.

Sighing, you swiped a hand through your damp hair. Shit. You hadn't thought of that conversation in months. Why now?

You rubbed your face with your hands aggressively, whipping away any traces of sleep. The room was dark signaling daylight was far from near. 

Glancing around for your phone, you cursed when you couldn't find it. What you managed to find was a small digital alarm clock on the bedside table. 

1:11am

Damn it. Why couldn’t you sleep through the night like a normal person?

Your head pounded as sleep deprivation finally caught up with your awakened form. Groaning, you took in your surroundings to try and lull yourself to sleep.

Gray walls, white sheets, and a fait scent of wood.

Your brows furrowed. Your room didn’t smell like pine… but Sukuna’s did.

Ah, that’s right. You stayed over at Sukuna’s. But how’d you end up in his bed?

Pinching your brow, you tried to recall the events after leaving your apartment. Unfortunately, your memories got foggy around the time you ate dinner and were almost completely gone after that.

Your brain throbbed as you struggled to find answers. Nothing was adding up. In fact, where the hell was Sukuna?

A gruff sigh made your form go rigid. Peaking over at the other side of the bed, your eyes widened at said man’s sleeping form.

He was hard to make out in the dark, you could just discern his spread out form. One hand propped his head up while the other laid lazily beside you. 

Despite the low lighting, it didn’t take long to notice his lack of attire and it took even less to notice your own. Instantly, you grabbed as much of the white duvet as Sukuna’s form allowed you to and covered yourself.

What. The. Hell.

Your brain ran in circles as you tried to come up with an explanation for your situation. As much as you tried to pin it on some unseen force, you knew very well why you were in the position.

Why else would you be naked next to a man modeled after a god other than to have slept with him?

You weren’t that dumb, and you definitely weren’t some virgin.

But why him of all people?!

Spinning your body to the side, you placed your feet on the cool floor. The temperature felt nice compared to the inner rage you felt at yourself.

Seriously, what was wrong with you?

“You always seem to try and run away from me in the middle of the night.”

Your hands clenched the duvet, which now fell to your sides. A sense of deja vu flooded your mind. Would you choose to stay again? 

“(Y/n).”

No. 

Something was different.

You could feel Sukuna’s form rise behind you, warming your bare back. His larger hands covered your own which still clutched the covers.

Breath trailed your neck as Sukuna melted into you. An eerie silence shrouded the room as neither of you spoke. You simply basked in one another’s presence.

This time was different.

You didn’t have a choice.

You closed your eyes, allowing his scent to engulf you. 

“Why is it we only complete each other at night?”

“It’s easier to hide.”

You turned your head to meet his gaze. He blended in with the darkness so much you were sure if his arms weren’t wrapped around you, you wouldn’t have known he was there.

“Show me how.”

You felt a chuckle rumble across his chest. It didn’t feel mocking as it usually did. It felt…gentle.

“If you learn how to hide any better, then even I won’t be able to find you.”

You rested your head against his chest, “Maybe it’s better that way.”

A tightening grip was your only answer. Slowly, he pulled you back into the bed, holding your frame captive.

You bit your lip. Who were you kidding? You were tired of hiding. 

Tired of trying to forget that night in Shibuya. 

Tried if being angry.

What’s done is done. 

Regret would only hold you hostage.

Sukuna’s soft breath’s tickled your ear, reminding you of his presence. Your heart throbbed. Sukuna. Who even was he to you? Cuddled up one minute then combating the next.

How could he be your damnation yet your salvation?

You squeezed your eyes shut. Maybe it was time to wear the rose colored glasses for a short while. Even if it meant getting hurt.

｡･:*˚:✧⤷

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

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #gojo satoru #angst #hurt #dark themes #smut #anger management #anger issues #neighbors au #ancestors #jujutsu sorcerer #chapter 4

[steddieas-shegoes]

Chapter 4

Chapter 1  / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Steve arrived home to Robin anxiously pacing.

“Steve! Oh my God. I thought you died.”

“Robin, I literally talked to you an hour ago.”

“You could’ve died in the last hour!”

He smiled at her dramatics. She had his location the entire time, and she easily could have called him any time in the last hour if she was that worried.

She wrapped him in a hug, which was shocking enough on its own, but Steve couldn’t help his confusion when she also kissed the top of his head.

She held him for over a minute and Steve started to wonder if someone had died and she didn’t know how to tell him face to face.

“Robs?”

“Dingus?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Are you okay?”

Steve realized Eddie had probably told her everything. Oh for fuck sake.

“I am begging you to never bring anything of this up to me ever. Like, even if you think it’s okay to talk about it, assume it isn’t. I am never going to talk about this with you. Not ever. Not even on my deathbed. Not even when I’m drunk.”

“Eddie said you should.”

“I will. With Eddie. Not you.”

Steve turned to walk to his room and ignore Robin for the rest of the day, but he could hear her footsteps following him.

He sighed and turned around.

“I’m fine. Eddie took care of me. I’m going back there tonight so we can talk. I’ll keep my location on and you can check in with both of us, okay Mom?”

“Wait wait wait wait. You’re going back there tonight?” Then, she seemed to remember how he even ended up with Eddie. “WAIT! Your tattoo! Show me!”

Steve could do that much at least. He’d been talking about this tattoo for so long and he was really excited about how it turned out.

Eddie had unwrapped it and done the first round of cleaning and moisturizing, making sure Steve was paying attention so he could do it by himself today.

He hadn’t been able to look away from it for nearly ten minutes, the colors more beautiful after the redness of his irritated skin went away.

He held his wrist out to Robin, unable to keep the smile from his face as she looked at it and smiled up at him.

“He did great with this. Will is gonna flip.”

“I hope he likes it. He has an appointment with me tomorrow so I’ll be able to show him.”

Will was one of his best kids. He never had to actually worry about his future, Will knew exactly what he wanted, got good grades, had nearly perfect attendance, and worked towards his goals without any help from Steve. He’d been through a lot though as a child, and his mom had insisted that he regularly meet with Steve just to talk.

He came to appointments once a week, but him, along with his two best friends Dustin and Mike, would often spend their lunchtime in Steve’s office. They weren’t exactly popular, and bullies targeted them often for their size and their interest in more nerdy things. Steve let them, even though the principal had told him he was setting them up for failure in real life. Steve always said this was real life and feeling safe wasn’t a failure.

But this tattoo would really mean a lot to Will. He hoped so, at least.

“When are you going to Eddie’s?”

“7.”

“Bring protection.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen.”

Robin just gave him a look and walked away.

Nothing was gonna happen. Eddie said so.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

When Steve got to Eddie’s place, he was already home, and…cooking?

“Something smells good.”

Steve made his way into the house, brushing past Eddie and looking around. He hadn’t spent much time noticing things earlier, but now he could.

There was a lot of art on the walls, but none of it looked like what was at the shop. This looked more abstract, with a few random watercolors sprinkled in. He noticed pictures frames along the shelves and bookcase that held more records than books. The coffee table looked cluttered, mostly books and sketches spread out along the top.

The couch was old, but looked comfy, and the armchair in the corner seemed mostly unused. A few hats hung from the corner it was placed in, none of them looking like anything Eddie would wear.

Did he have a roommate? Is that how he could afford a house?

“You can set your stuff in my room if you want. You remember where it is?”

Eddie’s voice being so close behind him startled him, but he immediately relaxed when he felt a hand on his hip.

“I remember.”

Eddie squeezed his hip once before letting him go, walking towards the kitchen instead of following Steve.

Steve took in the pictures hanging up in the hall, but didn’t get a close look at any, already rushing to get back to Eddie so they could talk. Robin had given him another look before he left that said there’d be more than talking happening tonight, but he really trusted Eddie when he said they’d be taking it easy.

He dropped his bag on Eddie’s bed, smiling to himself when he saw that the bed was made.

Eddie didn’t seem like the type of person to make his bed, so maybe he was trying to impress him?

Steve shook the thought away. Nothing is happening tonight. He may not even want you in his bed after you talk.

He made his way back out to the kitchen, where Eddie was closing the oven door and placing a casserole dish of something that smelled like heaven on the stove.

“What did you make?”

“Breakfast casserole.”

“Breakfast? For dinner?”

Eddie smirked. “No laws can hold me down.”

Steve resisted the smile he felt trying to creep onto his face.

Eddie really did a number on his whole “I don’t smile for anyone” exterior.

“What’s in it?”

“Well, normally I do a french toast one that has fruit and maple syrup, but you didn’t seem like the type to enjoy that.”

“Excuse me? That sounds amazing,” Steve crossed his arms across his chest and stared at Eddie.

“We can have that next time.”

Next time, next time, next time.

“This one is hashbrowns, cheese, eggs, and bacon with biscuits as the base.”

“That sounds…heavy.”

“We can eat heavy. We don’t have any physical activity to commit to later.”

Steve couldn’t help it, he started pouting.

A small part of him had hoped that maybe after they talked, something would happen. Not necessarily sex or even subspace, but some making out, maybe some handjobs? Yeah, he’d hoped.

But he recognized the boundaries Eddie was setting, and he respected him for sticking to them, even if he really wished he didn’t.

Eddie poked Steve’s bottom lip playfully.

“No need to pout. If our discussion goes well, maybe next time?”

“Promise?”

“You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you?”

“I dunno. Am I?”

“And a brat. Noted.”

Steve had never, not even at peak spoiled rich kid, been called a brat. Not even jokingly. He was a little offended, but he could see the hint of a smirk on Eddie’s face letting him know that would be part of their discussion.

“Are we gonna talk during dinner or after?”

“That’s up to you. I’m happy either way, sunshine.”

Steve felt warmth spreading in his chest at the nickname. He’d never been called sunshine either. Being terminally grumpy since your teenage years kind of eliminates that possibility.

“I have some questions so maybe we could start there during dinner?”

Eddie nodded and turned to grab plates and forks for dinner.

“Before you start though, I wanna make sure you know that I will always be honest and do my best to answer your questions, but there are some things I don’t know. I’m not a professional. I’m certainly experienced, but there may be things you want to know that I’ve never done. I don’t want to mislead you, so if there’s stuff you still need to know after this, I have contacts who can probably help.”

Steve felt so out of his depth here. Eddie had fucking contacts for this.

“Stevie? You okay?”

Steve shook himself out of his thoughts. He couldn’t let himself feel nervous about this. Eddie was kind and wanted him to understand and wouldn’t expect anything of him. He could do this.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. Just feels a little overwhelming.”

Eddie paused mid-scoop and glanced at Steve. He set the serving spoon in the dish and walked the few steps over to Steve, wrapping his arms around him gently and hugging him to his chest.

Steve quickly found his spot, nuzzling against his collarbone like he belonged there.

“That’s why we’re taking this slow, having discussions first. You can’t go into all of it the way you did last night. It’s dangerous.” Eddie rubbed his back slowly and Steve fought back the noises trying to escape from his chest. “I won’t feel comfortable doing anything at all with you until we’re both comfortable, okay?”

Steve nodded against his chest.

Eddie pulled back and tilted his chin up to look at him.

“You have to use your words, sunshine.”

“Okay.”

“You understand what I said?”

“I understand.”

“Good boy.”

Steve couldn’t contain the whine he let out. Jesus Christ, what was happening to him? He’d never been like this. He’d never made that noise before in his life.

“Alright, sunshine. Let’s eat.”

Steve didn’t want to separate from him, but Eddie didn’t go too far. He made sure Steve was right next to him as he grabbed their plates and walked to the table, setting them down next to each other instead of at the chairs across from each other.

“Don’t want you too far,” Eddie said with a fond smile.

Steve hated the way his heart skipped a beat. Eddie was going to send him into cardiac arrest if he kept this up.

But he did his best to ignore it, take a deep breath, and sit down in the chair.

His anxiety was high, and he was worried he may not be able to even eat, but Eddie took a bite and looked at Steve expectantly.

Steve picked up his fork and took a bite.

“Damn, this is good.”

“Thanks, sunshine. It’s hard to fuck this one up, but I’m glad you like it.”

Steve smiled at him and took another bite.

Where to begin?

He knew Eddie would let him lead, acting as more of a guide for the conversation than anything else, but Steve suddenly didn’t know where to begin.

“Um. I guess I kinda wanna start by saying something?”

Eddie nodded, smiling softly at him and showing him that he could be patient with whatever Steve needed to say, even if it took him some time.

“I’m not, like, a virgin. I mean I know when it comes to this stuff I kind of am, but I’ve had a lot of sex. With women and men. I mean, I almost got engaged once. I’m not new to that.” He ignored the amused look on Eddie’s face and continued, though his voice wavered. “And I’ve seen some stuff in porn or whatever. I’m not completely oblivious to how this works.”

“I don’t think you should go off of what you’ve seen in porn.” Eddie cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, I just didn’t want you to think that’s accurate at all. Most vanilla porn isn’t even accurate, let alone any type of BDSM stuff. I don’t want you to think I have a dungeon or something with whips and chains attached to the walls. That isn’t what this is about for me or most anyone, really.”

Steve felt himself flush.

He’d said he wasn’t a virgin, but he’d never talked so openly about sex with anyone. He reminded himself that Eddie was still very much a stranger to him, and this kind of talk is something that close friends or significant others might have.

“What is it about? For you, I mean?”

There. That was a good start. Learning more about what Eddie did might help Steve understand what he was trying to accomplish.

“I mean, for everyone it’s about power and control or submission. But everyone has different ways of accomplishing those things and things they’re comfortable with.” He took another bite and chewed while he seemed to think of his answer. “For me, it’s about being in charge of someone’s release, whether it be sexual or not. Making someone feel good in a way they can’t experience on their own or with someone else. Having the power to know exactly what they need and give it to them or hold back. Find what makes that person tick and use it to make them feel better than ever.”

“That’s what you like? Seeing someone else get off?”

Eddie let out a small chuckle.

“I guess in a simplified way, sure. But that doesn’t always happen. You didn’t get off last night did you?”

“No, but I was dropping apparently.”

“Before that though. You still got to subspace, and you stayed there a while, even though you never got sexual gratification from it. You just felt good. Sometimes feeling good just means a plateau, not a peak and then fall, ya know? I like to help someone maintain that plateau as long as possible.” He took another bite and nudged Steve to do the same. “I love helping someone peak, too. But that isn’t always on the table.”

“What if I want it to be?”

“Getting ahead of yourself, sunshine. How about you have a couple more bites while I talk?”

Steve nodded and took another bite, watching Eddie as he formed his thoughts.

“Sex is obviously a part of this. I won’t say it doesn’t end that way most of the time. But there are parts of this that aren’t sexual at all that are still just as good. Your tattoo wasn’t sexual at all, right?” Steve shook his head. “Exactly. But you got there. Sometimes, it’s more just giving up the control. Some subs don’t even like the sex parts, you know. They like someone to give them rules and tasks to follow and punishments for when they don’t. I have a friend who is a sub who doesn’t even take off his clothes during his sessions. It’s different for everyone and it’s usually trial and error. That’s why safety and trust is such a big part of it.”

Steve felt like his head was spinning.

“Is that why people use safewords?”

“Yeah or the stop light system, or in some cases, just physical signs. That has to be agreed on before you ever go into a scene, even if it's someone you’ve done scenes with before and trust. You may love being spanked until you bruise on Saturday, but end up hating it on Monday if you’re not in the right headspace for it. It’s not just the sub trusting the dom with everything, it’s the dom trusting that the sub will use their safeword if they can’t keep going. Sometimes that’s hard for people to understand. It goes both ways. Both parties have control, just in different ways.”

“You know a lot about this.”

“I’ve been in a few serious relationships with the dynamic and all my friends have been part of the scene for years. What I don’t know firsthand, I’ve heard plenty about.”

“Okay, but what if I do want the sex stuff to be part of it?”

“If you do, then you have to be open about hard limits before you start. You have to have a safeword and use it if things start to go bad. You have to let yourself test the waters, but not jump into them if that makes sense.”

Steve nodded. It did make sense. He was probably jumping the gun a bit, but he felt like maybe he could trust Eddie to find and test his limits.

“So you wouldn’t wanna do that with me?”

“I didn’t say that, Stevie.” Eddie turned to him and placed his hands on his knees, massaging them lightly. “I’m not a jump right into anything kind of guy, even with just plain vanilla sex. But I’m really careful about starting with sex stuff right off the bat. Oh, stop pouting, sunshine. I’m not saying no.”

“But you’re saying no now.”

Steve knew he was still pouting, and maybe being a bit unreasonable. He normally took things slow too, at least when it came to more than random handjobs or blowjobs at the club. It still made him feel like Eddie might not be interested in him the way he was interested in Eddie.

“I’m saying not yet. There’s a difference. I’d love to be able to do that with you. But you need to experience more first.”

“Like what?”

Eddie studied his face for a moment. Steve felt like he could see right through him, which would have alarmed him more if he wasn’t certain that Eddie was going to be able to make him float again.

“You like to be praised.”

It wasn’t a question, but Steve nodded. He’d figured that much out at least.

“That’s a good start. You can be praised for a lot of things. Sometimes just being told to sit still and being told you’re doing good can make a person float, you know.”

Steve didn’t think he could do that. He certainly believed some people could, but he figured it would take a lot more for him.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“Do you want to try?”

“Now? I thought we weren’t doing anything tonight?”

Steve was suddenly overwhelmed with nerves again. Despite the fact that he’d wanted something to happen when he first got here, he was now wondering why the hell he thought that was a good idea.

“It doesn’t have to be now. But it would certainly be a good start when you’re ready. Simple, non-sexual, easy to safeword out of if you get uncomfortable, unlikely to drop from it. It’s just an idea. You can always say no.”

Steve didn’t want to say no. He was nervous, sure, but he wanted it. He wanted to try. He wanted to make Eddie proud.

“Could we try tonight?”

“If you finish your supper and we talk about a safeword, yes.”

Steve took three more bites and ignored Eddie’s laughter at his clear excitement.

“So, what can we use for a safeword?”

“Up to you, sunshine. Mine is Metallica.”

“Can I use yours?”

Eddie thought about it for a moment.

“For tonight, yes. But you should have your own in the future.”

“Don’t like sharing?”

Steve smirked at Eddie, who rolled his eyes but smiled fondly back at him.

“More like you may not want to keep doing scenes with me and having your own safeword is best.” He got up and brought their plates to the sink while Steve waited patiently in his chair. “You can go sit on the couch. I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

Steve sat on the couch with his hands folded in his lap, trying to push away any nerves he had over what they were about to do. If all went how he hoped, he’d maybe go to subspace again. Eddie sounded like he could get him there, but he didn’t know exactly what Eddie would have to do.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Eddie came into the room and sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“Alright. We’re gonna relax for a few minutes first. You’re tense and you won’t be able to just go right into it.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, sunshine. Just let me hold you for a few minutes, okay?”

Steve wanted nothing more than to never leave Eddie’s side, his arm wrapped just tight enough around him so he felt like he couldn’t escape, his body warming him up just enough for comfort.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, and he didn’t really care, all he knew was the next time Eddie moved, he had to open his eyes.

“Alright, sunshine. Gonna move you a little so your head is in my lap, okay?”

“Mhm.”

Eddie adjusted him so he was laying with his head in his lap and his legs out along the length of the couch. He had a hand in Steve’s hair, scratching at his scalp gently, while his other hand was tracing circles on his arm.

“Mmmm. ‘S good,” Steve mumbled against Eddie’s thigh as he let his eyes slip closed again.

“Good.” He felt a gentle tug on his hair and his eyes shot open. Eddie was smirking down at him, but went back to gently scratching at his scalp. “Just testing. You remember the safeword?”

“Metallica.”

“Good boy. You use it the second you feel like you have to.”

Steve ignored the flutters in his stomach at being called a good boy again.

It went on like this for a little while, nothing new happening. Steve started to wonder if Eddie understood what the purpose of this was, when he suddenly felt Eddie stop all movement.

He whimpered, then felt Eddie’s hand tug at his hair harder.

“You have to stay quiet, sunshine. Keep being a good boy for me.”

His tone was different. Not quite stern, but not as soft as before either. Steve didn’t have to know him better to know that he should listen to him.

“I’m going to watch a show. You just sit right there for me and look pretty.”

Oh. Jesus Christ.

Steve was already hard. From that? Really Steve?

He managed to stay quiet this time, but he knew the second Eddie touched him again he would moan.

But Eddie didn’t touch him again.

He turned on the tv and casually looked for a channel. When he found one, he watched with his hands by his sides, not even resting against Steve’s skin.

Steve knew this must be part of it or they wouldn’t be doing it, but he felt himself growing frustrated at not getting any attention.

Minutes passed like that. Steve wondered when Eddie would acknowledge him again, but didn’t want to risk saying something.

Then a hand was in his hair, playing with the ends as if Eddie had never stopped.

Steve let out a content sigh and closed his eyes again.

“Being so good for me, sunshine.”

Steve smiled to himself, keeping his eyes closed so he could relax fully against Eddie’s lap.

The noise from the tv turned distant, but the fingers in his hair felt like fire. Or maybe ice. Both? Could be both. They just felt nice.

Steve drifted, not realizing he was going until he was already gone.

Eddie knew the moment it happened’ Steve’s entire body relaxed entirely against him and the couch, and he let out a sigh that could’ve been held in for years with how loud it was. He didn’t open his eyes, but Eddie didn’t need to see them to know they’d be glazed over.

“So perfect, Stevie. Feeling good, huh?”

“Mmm.”

Eddie smiled down at him, even though he wouldn’t see it.

He wouldn’t let him stay down for long, just for the rest of the show.

Not that he was watching the show.

Not when he had Steve in his lap, floating away because of his gentle touches and words.

Chapter 5

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #chapter 4 #grumpy sunshine trope #tattoo artist eddie munson #guidance counselor steve harrington #dom/sub #dom eddie munson #sub steve harrington

[youngbonescomic]

CHAPTER 4 FRONT N' CENTER [pg.19]

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#lego monkie kid comic #lmk bai he #chapter 4 #young bones! au #lego monkie kid au #lmk comic #monkie kid six eared macaque #lmk bai lu #she goes by bai lu in the story