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kosije · 8 months

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sins in silk

c/w ★ ׂ duke!miguel ohara x princess!reader, they are from different kingdoms, mentioned age-gap, forbidden love aspect, pregnancy kink, mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual head, fingering, size kink, art cred: kammie_arts1903

"Princess, the Grand Duke is here. May I bring him in?"

"Show him to the study for now. Tell him I will be right out. Be sure to thank the Grand Duke for his patience."

"Yes, Princess."

"Oh, Will?"

"Yes, Princess?"

"After you inform the Duke, please excuse everyone to their chambers, yes?"

"But princess, you know if the king found out we had left your side, even with the Grand Duke we could lose our-"

"I will not let that happen. So please, Will, do this for me."

All though apprehensive, your servant bows and disappears from your room, in long strides to the Duke.

It's the 5th time this month he has come to the estate. Always with the intention to see the King and ruminate. And despite him being so much older than you, your father's closest friend and strongest connection to the 2099 kingdom, and is only to wed a woman from his territory, each time he has come has left you tangling a hand in your silk sheets, hushed cries of the Duke's name left to fall from your wet lips in a silent plea.

Every time he drops by unannounced, talks to your father, and leaves. Every time he has his salt and pepper sprinkled brown hair combed back away from his face, showing the wrinkles on his forehead. Every time his eyes have focused on you, running over you like the pretty oil portrait that hangs above the study's mantle as his jaw flexes brows furrow, something in you ignites and the yearning becomes almost palpable.

Never does he say more to you than a few words, only acknowledging you after with how his body tenses when you're around. He runs as cold as the marble under your feet as you move to your vanity to reapply your perfume and shift your dress to expose enough of your collarbone without looking intentional. You're buzzing at the thought of seeing him, taking the rollers out of your hair with bubbling anticipation. This is the first time he's come amidst nightfall and the first time you two will be alone. With your hands resting to your front, you walk to the study well aware of how low your neckline is dipping while high pillared walls with paintings of cherubs and past battles trail you illuminated by ivory candles.

When you push past tall burgundy doors, you're greeted by the sight of Grand Duke of 2099, Miguel O'hara, who's stretching his back with two large hands on his hips. The deep groan he lets out makes your skin flush, and when his cold gaze meets yours you almost shiver. His eyes drift from your face to just right where your dress exposes a bit of the fat on your breast, and you smile when you hear him suck in a breath.

"What do I owe the pleasure, Your Grace?" His eyes tear from your chest as he focuses on the crackling fireplace.

"Just here to see your father, is he near?" He asks, brown eyes fixing back onto yours. Your smile only widens.

"I'm afraid the King is away, but he should be returning soon, you are more than welcome to stay 'till his return."

"I shouldn't-"

"Humor me, Your Grace. After all, I am a bit lonely without my father to talk to." you say, batting your eyelashes at him bashfully.

Apprehension is so clear on his face, but still he nods, straightening his white button up and waiting for you to go on.

"Follow me," you say, walking back down the hall until you reach your room.

"Princessa, I will not go further, this is inappropriate. A young lady shouldn-"

"'M not as young as I was before. Surely you can agree, no?"

"Even so," He coughs. "That is not the point-"

"You should have no trouble entering. I have already given my permission."

He doesn't look convinced.

"Do you not trust me? Have I done wrong by you?"

"That is not it, Princessa-"

"Then please, my duke, time is slipping right past us." you whisper, slipping through the doors, intentionally brushing your hand across his thigh. You grin when you hear his shaky breath, and hear your door not only close, but lock.

"What is it that you have here that we couldn't be anywhere else for?"

"Are you putting on an act," you ask him, turning around to face him still at a distance. "Or are you truly this aloof, Your Grace?'

"I’m sorry?-"

"I have a confession," you say. walking closer and closer until his breath is caught in his throat, and your lips are just a nudge away from his.

"My father won't be returning anytime soon." And suddenly, it seems it has clicked in his head, as his eyes darken.

"This can not happen."

"You're right," your hand is pressed up against his chest.

"Someone could hear us," He whispers, making no effort to push you away.

"I've already dismissed everyone to their chambers."

"If your father ever found out there could be a war," he tries to argue, but his head is still dipping down, ghosting over your lips.

"We have all night to just the two of us."

And just a second after saying that, he kisses you. His lips are hot, hungry, and experienced in the way they move against yours, swallowing your every breath. His hands find your waist, but he hesitates and you can tell he hasn't given in completely. And something about that excites you.

You pull away from his lips, leaving him noticeably confused until your hand reaches down and palms his cock, happy at the way he's already hard.

"Do you know just how long I've been wanting this?" You ask shifting him around you.

He doesn't say anything, only shakes his head "No."

"Ever since the day you came back to visit, I haven't been able to think of anything else." When you push him down on the edge of your bed, he shivers when you drop to your knees and play with the button on his slacks.

"Every night, I touch myself on these sheets to the thought of you." You confess, finally free him from his pants, leaving him in the thin fabric of his underwear, painfully soaking up the front of them with his pre.

"Princessa," He finally says in almost a whine. "If you say things like that I'm afraid I won't be able to hold back."

And dipping your hand under his waistband to grip his cock, you savor how thick and heavy he feels and the groan he lets out with a kiss to his base. You can't deny the bit of worry that flushes through you when you see just how big he is. Thick beads of cum pulse out of him that you lick up hungrily, humming at how you can feel hus veins on your tongue.

"Then please, Your Grace. Give me everything."

That seems to shatter his self control, because suddenly he has a hand in your hair and a hand on his cock as he forces your lips over his angry brown head.

"You're such a damn tease, you know that?" He gritts out, bullying his cock all the way to the back of your throat and then some. You gag and choke around him, already feeling your throat burn and eyes well up.

"Always coming around me with your father with your body on display in those cute little gowns, batting those pretty little eyes at me when you talk. What would your father think if he knew all of that was because you were trying to get my attention?" He coos between groans while using your face like just a vessel to get off, and your cunt starts dripping. "Just so I could fuck your pretty mouth like this?"

You can't do anything but moan around him, croaking out gasp when he finally lets you catch your breath before immediately pulling you back down onto his dick rapidly as snot mixes in with tears, spit, and cum starts to drip down your jaw and onto your floor. He begins to unbutton his shirt, before tearing it off completely, leaving buttons to fly across your room. Looking up through teary eyes you take in the way his usually combed back hair sticks to his sweaty forehead messily, as his abs tense and relax with every rapid breath as his mouth lulls open with lidded eyes, moaning when he sees just how well you swallow him.

Swiftly, you run your tongue over the slit of his cock, hearing him whine, and feeling the grip on your hair tighten enough to burn your scalp. Your throat aches with every heavy thrust that only spurs on the throbbing between your thighs as your hands play with his balls and he stutters in your mouth, shooting his seed down your throat, midst mumbling praises.

Without word or warning, he flips you over, effectively pinning you down to your bed once he's come down from his high. His large calloused hand runs up and down your thigh before tossing your nightgown up, and he groans at the sigh.

"You needed me so bad you didn't wear anything under this frilly thing? What a filthy girl." He grins, slapping your dripping cunt and drinking up your moan in a kiss.

"Your Grace,"

"That's not what you should be calling me." He grits, crouching down to his knees to lick a stripe up your throbbing pussy.

"M-miguel,"

"Yes, Princessa?"

"Please."

"Please what, Princessa?" He says, licking another stripe, but slower.

"Please...don't tease me." You whimper, muffling your moans with the back of your hand.

"And what shall I do instead?"

"Kiss me harder, please. I need it, Mig-" and your sentence is cut off by the feeling of his nose kissing your clit as he buries his face into your sopping heat, groaning at the way you suck his tongue in. You're writhing at the feeling, but when you feel one of his calloused fingers push through you, you lose your vision for a second.

"Fuck- you're even tighter than I thought you were," he groans, and you feel your body ignite at his admission.

"You'd think of me?" You ask with such a worn out voice, Miguel's hips buck up in search of any friction at all.

"All the damn time. Would fuck my hand everyday over those pretty eyes and lips, imagine how pretty you'd look all happy and spent, with the image of my love spilling out of you." He confesses, speeding his assault on your hole, hitting spots with his fingers you could only dream of, before latching his mouth back on and fucking you with his tongue and fingers. The arousal in you was rushing through you like a wave and just after a strangled moan it blows out of you in pleasurable burst that leave you flushed. He hungrily drinks you up like a starved man until you're whining from the sensation.

When he rises from the floor he doesn't bother wiping your slick from his mouth, only laughs at your fucked out expression, and runs his lips over yours, amused by how you trail after him. Annoyed, you wrap your hands around his collar and pull his lips onto yours, gasping and licking into his mouth. Between the taste of you on his tongue, his rock-hard cock rubbing against your puffy folds as your hands run through his sweaty hair.

"Gonna give me one more?" He asks, voice low like gravel.

"I'll do anything for you, Miguel. Anything you want."

He kisses you again, a passionate thing as you both whine at the feeling of him bullying into you.

"'Ts too big, Mig- oh! S-slow down!" You cry, but his hand slaps the fat of your thigh and grips it, hitting you even deeper at a fast pace. The pain is still there, but feeling of pleasure is much more intense. And it only skyrockets when you hear his voice.

"Sshhh sweetheart. You're-fuck-already taking me so well. so damn tight around me. Be good and take what I give you. So I c-can tell your father what a nice cunt his perfect little girl has." He rasps, pounding you even deeper than before, and your nails dig up the fabric of your sheets, leaving fabric frayed in long scratches. One hand grips your thigh as the other moves up your dress to tweak and grope your breast, making you clench down around him. He drawls out a curse as his head falls into the crook of your neck, inhaling the smell of your sweat and perfume that makes him impossibly more needy to where he's plowing through you in quick hard strokes that move your bed to knock against your walls, shaking the shelf above you.

His teeth sink into your neck, almost as a mark of ownership, before sucking a bruise into your skin, continuing his markings lower and lower to focus them on your breast. Your back arches at the sting and you cry out at the imposing feeling building up inside you.

"Such a pretty girl," he says, leaning over to look you in your eyes, studying the gaping of your mouth and tugging on your brows as your orgasm builds up. His eyes are trained on you, as he throbs inside you, stimulating you further.

"I'm close-" you whimper, voice cracking as he licks a stripe up your neck.

"Yeah?" He asks, smirk practically audible as he hums in your ear. "Do it. Squeeze me, sweetheart."

It only takes a few heavy strokes to hit your sweet spot before you are gushing around him, making his thrust sporadic and moans louder.

"Yes-shit- let me fill you up. I'll give you an heir, and then I'll-hah- fuck you again, and again, and again."

"Yesyesyes, please." You think you exclaim, but can't tell if you said it out loud or just in your head because of how overestimated you are. His hand rubs circles on your clit, and your toes curl as your heels dig into the muscle of his back.

"Fuck- I'm gonna-" He spits out, just before spilling his seed into your cunt, carefully riding out his orgasm inside you while pushing his cum deeper into your womb. His palm stretches over the expanse of your chest as he leans down to kiss just above your belly button. The room is quiet now that he is still inside you, and you watch Miguel lean down to kiss you once more, in the form of a soft peck to your swollen lips. Once he pulls back, he leaves you briefly before returning with a warm damp cloth that he wipes you down with. Once he is done, he discards it into a bucket and lies himself down next to you.

"If we continue to do this," he says, carefully pulling out of you. "We will eventually have to tell your father."

"You're right," you whisper scared, but when you feel his strong arm pull you flush against his chest, hope surges through you and you bury your face into his warm body.

"We'll need to get up early, the maids would appreciate finding us like this."

"We'll be fine. After all, a pregnancy will shock them far more than this."

"I'm sure it will," he laughs, kissing your forehead.

Since envelops the two of you, as you notice his breathing deepen.

"Your, Grace-"

"Miguel," he corrects, eyes dancing across your face with a small smile.

"Miguel, my father will be gone on the next full moon."

"The next full moon, huh?" He asks no one at all, pushing your hair behind your ear.

It’s bittersweet asking him to sneak around with you again. And yet, all he says is a simple "Okay," placing a kiss to the palm of your hand, and you understand what the gesture is:

A promise.

#( ☆ ) spiderman: atsv #( ☆ ) smuts #( ☆ ) fluff #miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel ohara #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara headcanon #miguel o’hara fluff #sins in silk #duke!ohara

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lancermylove · 2 months

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Only in a Towel Reversed (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Demon brothers x gn!Reader

Warning: Suggestive.

Prompt: They walk into your room and see you fresh out of the shower in a towel.

A/N: Here is the flipped version (with the demons in a towel).

———————————————

Lucifer

Lucifer came to your room to discuss the upcoming event. While he knocked, you didn't respond, so he opened the door and invited himself in. Lucifer assumed you were not home but wanted to confirm. But the second he saw you fresh out of the shower with only a towel around your body, he froze.

He quickly averted his gaze and somehow managed to maintain his composure. But if you squinted, you could have seen his slightly flushed cheeks.

Lucifer politely excused himself and speed-walked out of your room, but the image of you in a towel lingered in his mind longer than he wanted.

Mammon

Mammon burst into your room without knocking to show you his latest treasure but stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the breathtaking sight of you.

Mammon stared for a while until he realized he was doing something inappropriate and stuttered a sorry. His cheeks got redder and redder.

As he turned to run out of the room, he nearly ran into the door and lost his balance. But the demon was determined to get away from there before his mind started to create scenes that would cause him discomfort.

Levi

His new figurine had just arrived, and he was excited to show you. But Levi forgot to knock and waltzed right in to find you in a short blue towel. His steps screeched to a halt as he stared at you with a completely blank mind.

His face went beet red when his mind finally registered what he was seeing. Levi squeaked an apology before bolting out of the room.

He spent the rest of the day curled up in his bathtub bed, trying to get the tempting image out of his mind. Now, how was he supposed to face you without automatically mentally seeing you in a towel?

Satan

Satan wanted to tell you about a new cat that he saw in Devildom and show you all the pictures he took; instead, he stood frozen in the doorway with his jaw dropped and eyes wide. His cheeks looked like tomatoes.

He awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to maintain his usual calm demeanor, which was getting harder by the minute. But not as hard as keeping his eyes away from your fairly exposed skin.

Satan offered a polite apology and hurried out of your room. He completely forgot about the new cat and spent the entire day trying to force his mind to not think about you in a towel - out of respect for you, of course.

Asmo

Asmo entered your room to talk about his new modeling project and fan about some cute demons he saw earlier. But he wasn't expecting you to be fresh out of the shower, standing in the middle of your room like you were looking for attention.

He gasped dramatically and covered his eyes with his hands. But a moment later, he parted his center and ring finger to take a peek at you, which you were completely prepared for.

Asmo complimented your appearance before giggling and gracefully leaving. That was a beautiful sight that we would not forget for a LONG time.

Beel

He came to ask if you had any snacks that you were willing to give to him but didn't expect you to look like a snack. Uh, you totally didn't see him licking his lips unintentionally.

Averting his eyes, he blushed furiously, stammered out an apology, and promised to return later. He turned around and practically ran out of your room.

His appetite for food lessened, and Beel suddenly craved something else.

Belphie

Belphie lazily walked into your bedroom to take a nap with you or near you. Due to this sleepy state, he didn't think to knock. ANd he also didn't expect you to be in the middle of the room standing in a towel. Suddenly, he felt wide awake.

He grumbled a half-hearted apology with pink cheeks, before walking out of your room.

Belphie pretended that he hadn't seen anything and used his sleepy state as an excuse. But in reality, the image of you in a towel replayed on a loop in his mind.

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satoruhour · 6 months

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need reader to have a confession with priest!geto about how they feel guilty for touching themselves late alone at night and priest!geto helps them by just fucking their brains out as a “penance” for their sins.

yes, i’m okay in the head btw! (lie)

AU REVOIR, O HEAVEN !

wc: 12.2k

warnings: DARK CONTENT, SLOW BUILDUP, CORRUPTION, priest!geto, fem!reader, age gap (reader is in early 20s, geto in late 20s), long descriptive fic that goes in depth of christian lore, lots and lots of christian references / metaphors / analogies, comparison to Satan’s banishment and fall from heaven, religious themes used in inappropriate ways, questions of religion and life, multiple scenes of f! and m! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, virginity loss, both f! and m! receiving oral, cumshot, praise, degradation, spitting, sex in a religious place, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

for a small town like yours, it was a no-brainer that everyone knew everyone; and everyone’s drama as well. from the baker’s daughter being a whore to the mayor of the town being sacked for purposes that have since been twisted by word of mouth. that was another thing: word got around fast, and it was particularly suffocating in a conservative town such as yours. people were not outright about the obvious choices they favoured, but there was the older generation who were not shy to turn down progressive ideas.

because of that, the previous priest was kicked out because of the misuse of funds from mass collection and offertory. it was one thing to see a bunch of notes missing from the sack and the money counter but it was another thing to see that money going into funding a new strip club that was opening in the next town over.

it was simply unheard of, and the parishioners basically gave him a free ride to that very strip club by excommunicating him from his own church. it was unbecoming of a priest, especially in such a small congregation that everyone made sure the new priest to transfer here was a God-honouring one.

you hope he was. you’ve always felt the obligated need to serve your god and your parents. always the good girl, following the Ten Commandments, saving yourself for marriage. it was the natural order of a christian, and you could only hope that you’d get even a fraction of the eternal life they preach about in mass. but lately you’ve been having some . . thoughts, and you pray that this new priest could help you immensely, even if you had to do a hundred Hail Mary’s at the pews.

it was peculiar, the first time it occurred to you. the area where your body separates into two and forms two legs — the centre of it all, the middle where Eve had it covered in statues and paintings with a leaf, the middle where you had only learned of it in anatomical drawings. you knew what the vagina, cervix and the ovaries were, but seeing the convergence of pink and maroon between your legs confused you, even scared you.

and the next was when you’d had a guy come up to you whilst doing up your university application, saying something along the lines of how cute you were, would you like to grab a drink some time? and you were left dumbfounded and unable to answer. you let your eyes travel over his features, of the exposed arms of his button up shirt and the thickness of his forearms, you let your eyes skim over his plump thighs before you’re asked “are you okay?”

“n . . no sorry, i already have a boyfriend.” you lie through your teeth and all the guy does is sigh before walking away — but now you’re left with a bigger problem . . why was the thing between your legs throbbing? you swear you can feel your panties getting wet as well, but you aren’t quite sure why.

that night you’re lying in bed with a lewd website shining right in your face, as you’ve laid here for about two hours already, going through in your head whether you really wanted to do this. your hands had been clean, untainted from the moment you were born, but you imagine going to university and knowing not a thing about sex and that makes your whole body burn in embarrassment.

you chicken out and fall asleep.

“honey! come down here, i want you to meet someone.” your mother calls out to you, running about like she usually does. she’s always overworking — caring for the newborn, cooking the meals, cleaning the place. why don’t you ask dad to help sometimes? / nonsense! he works so hard and deserves a break! i don’t mind. / but he just lazes around at home after work . .

you’re pleasantly surprised to find a long-haired man at your front door, clad in a thick and loose turtleneck sweater with a gentle smile on his face. that uncomfortable feeling returns to your core and you land a hand to your stomach to calm the churning that’s happening.

“hello, and you are?”

you’d never think you would see one of God’s angels on earth in actual flesh in front of you. you’re convinced God is looking over you and you think you might see heaven when that silky voice repeats himself again.

“hi, kind miss, are you alright?”

“h . . huh? oh! yeah, uhm— who are you?”

your mother smacks you on your shoulder and sidles up to your side, holding onto your arm a little tightly that it hurts just a bit.

“don’t be rude!” she whisper-shouts to you, “this is geto suguru, and—”

“and i’m the new priest for the church.”

that catches you off-guard. he’s the new priest that was just transferred over? he looks anything but a holy man of God, what with his long hair and gauges in his ears; if you didn’t know any better you would think he was the one paying for the strip club instead. he seems to read your mind.

“i know i look . . a bit of a delinquent, miss, but i promise you the word of God is what i strictly live by. i honour and praise him with all that i can.”

“ah, i’m sorry if you thought i thought that way, father.” you mumble, giving him an awkward smile that he misses because he’s too busy focusing on the way you say father. you’re prepared to close the door on him already; the pulsing sensation between your legs isn’t fading and your whole body feels like it burns in hell. you rub your thighs together for some sort of relief, nothing.

“that’s usually the response i get, so i thought i would preface it first.” a little laugh leaves geto’s lips and if it wasn’t for you holding on for dear life on the door, you definitely would’ve buckled under your knees. “no hard feelings.”

“he’s a charmer, ain’t he?” there’s another sheepish laugh from the pastor at that. “told me he’s been going around giving cakes to all the people as a way to thank them for letting him take over the church.” your heart melts at that — he looked so hot and had a heart of gold, too?

“what cake did you get us, father?” you blurt out and you have no time to take it back, but the preacher doesn’t seem to mind. you also don’t seem to mind that barrier of authority that was established ever since he‘s introduced himself as the new priest of the church. it felt . . friendlier, less intimidating than the previous. it was probably mostly due to him not wearing his cassock or collar, though.

“chocolate.” that one word possibly ignited every nerve in you. the smooth lilt in his voice paired with the slight smirk. it was detrimental. you were going to hell, you were condemned to eternal damnation.

“how’d you know i liked chocolate?”

he shrugs, “lucky guess.” wrong.

he had come around the day before already, but you were too distracted with work and pressured with a deadline that music drained out everything else — one look at your side profile and the hard-working first year university student was all it took for geto to return again today with another cake of your liking. oh! you’re such a sweet one for asking what flavour we like; frankly, my dear boy, my husband and i don’t really eat cake but her . . loves it for some reason. i wonder where she gets the sweet tooth from, honestly.

geto could only thank his saviour that your mother had promised not to tell you he already came around yesterday. and it looks like she didn’t.

“i should get going, miss . .”

“(y/n).”

geto simply nods his head, resisting the urge to call your name pretty and only manages a decent call to your mother. “mrs (l/n), i’m heading off, thank you for having me. (y/n).”

you return his smile, hesitantly, inching the door close with immense difficulty — you wanted to see him walk away with that imposing height of his, of the proper gait he carried himself with and the politeness in which he greets people of the town.

that night you locked yourself in your room, muttering out some dumb excuse of having to study for a test when in reality you were more interested in the feeling between your legs. it both excited and scared you when you first find a comfortable position on your bed, stalling for a good half ’n hour before the clinking cutlery of dinner happening downstairs had brought you to your senses. there were countless articles open in your safari tab, none of which helped your growing dilemma — a tear in the Red Sea between the sin of pleasure and the liberation of acting on it. you felt like Moses, treading in the centre, on the fence.

one last text made you yelp out loud.

[8:03 pm, read]: R u coming down 4 dinner?

it was your mother, as if she knew what was happening behind doors.

[8:03 pm, delivered]: nope, sorry mummy. need to study for this test, its important !

[8:05 pm, read]: Alright, alright. I left out a serving of what we cooked tonite. Heat up if u need to with the microwave O.K.? Don’t sleep so late!

you simply favourited her message, losing all motivation from before; until your mind crosses over dinner and goes straight to that chocolate cake, and then to the person who had brought it.

“Farewell happy fields / Where joy forever dwells: Hail, horrors, hail.”

“geto . . geto suguru.” the name feels foreign. it does sound like a countryside name but it felt like he had come from the city instead. “geto . .” you sigh, letting your hands tremble and move along your body. they brush over your chest, over your nipples and you recoil a little from the strange feeling. they harden under your touch as you continue to repeat his name.

each murmur of his name is a step farther from God, dipping your toes into the waters of hell as your fingers travel lower, lower, lower. you press a finger against your clit unknowingly, and you let out a loud moan; you immediately slap a hand over your mouth.

but the pleasure’s too much, and so you try again. one hand goes back to your nipples, squeezing your tits and playing with them while your fingers rub pathetic circles along your core.

“su . .” you gulp. “geto—”

you pant softly to yourself as you continue to rub your clit, messy, inexperienced circles in whatever shape or form. as long as it felt good to you, you were doing it. you made sure to keep your moans in as your hips bucked into your hands, back arching off the bed in needy movements. your hands were getting tired, clutching at the bedsheets.

long hair, built physique, crucifix on his neck. funny, you never noticed that before, but now you imagine it clearly, dangling over your face. you’re imagining geto fucking you, thrusting his cock into you as he groans out your name.

you’re at the end of your tether, feeling the deep plunge of your body in Satan’s lair the same time you cum for the first time in your life and your body shakes so violently. you flail around on your bed, bite into your shirt, anything to keep you quiet from the immense orgasm you had just felt. your pussy clenches around nothing and your hand aches so much it might fall off, but it just feel so damn good that you only have a minute’s rest before you’re rubbing at your clit again.

scooping up a little of your cum, you marvel at the clear liquid, sucking on your finger to try the thing that’s always drenched your panties. and soon you’re conjuring the image of the long-haired priest yet again, never really studying for that test you made up or even eating dinner — all you do is rest and come again, each time more wrecked than the last time.

you dreaded going to church the next morning.

it had slipped your mind that service was to continue once geto has gotten settled down in the rectory, a small outhouse at the back of the church that had been revamped. you’re not sure on how father geto was able to get it done up so fast but, you’re not one to question.

with the short walk to church, you regret not eating the night before, groaning softly at the discomfort of your growling stomach. what you were more worried of though, was what would happen to you once you stepped foot in the church. was your body going to go up in flames? were you going to get ridiculed by the townspeople? were you going to get called out by father geto in front of everyone?

“what’s gotten you so worked up?” your father was walking behind and smoking, as always, not giving a shit about your mother and the newborn.

“nothing . . just, wondering if i got everything in my head for my test.” your mother coos, and your baby brother in the carrier thinks it’s because of him. he babbles into your mom’s shirt, giggling.

“you’ll do fine, honey,” the reassurance worried you only more. you were lying outright — you had no test, you weren’t even studying, you were busy—!

“i raised a smart girl, didn’t i?” you can only manage a smile, reaching the church within minutes. taking the chance to mutter a short prayer and a plea, you take a deep breath and that light from above Lucifer’s kingdom seem to call out to you again.

stepping into the simple but cozy church, you dip your hands in holy water. Father, Son, Holy Spirit along your forehead, chest and shoulders before you trail behind your mother, suggesting places for you to sit at the back. she only waved your hand away, pointing towards the front. we always sit at the front! why the sudden change? / nothing . . maybe thought we could switch it up a little.

the mass starts after a few minutes of waiting, and you have the luxury of wallowing in your self-pity and guilt for those few minutes, trying to get the very filthy imagery of father geto above you, father geto between your legs, father geto himself out of your head. you fail, it’s only amplified when the bell rings and the congregation stands up.

everyone waits in anticipation for the new priest in this small town, hoping he won’t disappoint them like the last one. but they already seem to be in good spirits as he makes the entrance down the very short church. two altar boys follow behind him in the procession, accompanied by an organist and a duo of choir singers, straining to have their voice heard over the loud instrument. he’s already made some friends, nodding to the excited kid who whispers and the shy girl who waves her hands at him. but while everyone feels anticipation in hopes of a good sermon, dread is only making your legs feel like lead, you feel lightheaded, dizzy even.

because whatever you had imagined last night was him in his sweater get-up, and it just now sinks in what a disgusting thing you were doing as you watch the rich purple of his chasuble sway alongside his stole — the very image of him in his priest robes (in Lent season too, not to mention) — meant to deter you from more thoughts, only fed your desires.

geto suguru made being a pastor look so natural, and attractive, that it was almost criminal.

“good morning, brothers and sisters, how are we all doing this morning?” there’s a few murmurs around, but geto doesn’t falter, instead pressing on with his very convincing, beautiful speech; as does he with the rest of the mass. he conducts himself with as much professionalism as he can, handling the Eucharist with proper hands, giving a sermon whilst giving you too many eyes, distributing Holy Communion with a gentle, accepting smile; your skin burnt when he handed you the body of Christ, a soft inaudible “amen” hanging off your lips.

father geto was all the talk after, some hanging around to catch a minute of geto’s time if they could and you were no different, purposely looping your arm through your mother’s and slowly down your pace.

“goin’ out for a smoke.” your father gruffly tells the three of you, two of which understands better. your newborn simply cuddles deeper into your mother’s breast, humming softly into the nap.

“’kay.” it was opportunistic, now, as your eyes flit around the place to find geto talking to two older ladies. he’s politely bent down to reach their heights better, chasuble now removed and simply in his alb, one patting his shoulder and the other giggling. you think you imagine it but his eyes dart over to you for a moment and then off to the other parishioners.

“how are you two lovely ladies doing?” you hear him before you see him and the voice startles you a little, jumping back from brushing your baby brother’s almost non-existent hair.

“fine.” it comes out kurt and abrupt and you burn when your mother nudges you like yesterday.

“think what she means is that we’re perfectly fine. how was your first mass?”

father geto looks around the church, recalls the altar boys, ingrains each church-goer into his head, “i hope the congregation likes me.”

“oh, nonsense! i’m sure they do,” your mother reassures. she was always good like that, putting others before her and making sure they see the best in themselves, “that was a very riveting sermon you delivered.”

“yeah—! yeah, i . . really enjoyed it, father geto.”

a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, “did you now?”

you nod, and he continues, “you enjoyed me telling you that sin was revolting?”

when he phrases it like that . . you swallow, “isn’t that what God’s whole schtick is?”

and that makes father geto laugh, because for such an innocent flower like you, you make it sound like you were forced to go to church and made to learn the basis of why God exists and now you just don’t know what to do with it. it’s common for people at their university age where they’re exposed to more views and mindsets, to question the religion you were born in and think about what it meant to be tied to a god you didn’t even really know existed, and when that happens, Christianity turns stagnant and boring.

“yes, pretty much, miss (y/n), but His schtick also involves forgiving anyone who has sinned against Him. after all, that’s what He died on the cross for.”

“y . . yeah, i know, father geto.”

you only realise now his purple chasuble matches his eyes, eyes that swirl with the colours of amethyst. they’re much brighter in the parish lighting, and they hold your stare much longer than yesterday. there’s the tugging feeling at your stomach again that goes right down to your centre and it throbs; your eyes flutter and blink to get you out of your head.

“good that you know . . of course, it’s not an invitation to sin. self-restraint and chastity still exists,” you hate how he puts an emphasis on the latter word, because he could be referring to anything, “but we need not be worried for our lives. we only need to pray and repent in prayer, and God will have mercy on us.”

but well, if God didn’t want you to sin, how then can he explain creating such an attractive person? if God valued his followers’ self control, why did he have to plant such lewd, inappropriate thoughts of his preacher in your head?

father geto could probably see your dilemma with how hard he was staring at you, and he only makes it worse by putting his larger hand on your left shoulder. it descends deeper to your upper arm and the skin there ignites—

“i hope you liked the chocolate cake.”

you manage a small smile, “haven’t had the chance to try it, sorry, father.”

“don’t apologise.” you forget your mother and baby brother is even beside you with how he talks to you. you’d love to be on his chest, hearing the deep rumbling of his voice or even have his hands be somewhere else but your arm. you don’t know how simply talking to you has got him doing everything in his power to restrain himself; not even a prayer from God could help.

“The mind is its own place, and in it self / Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.”

what you don’t know, either, that the hand on your shoulder was between his legs just last afternoon, trying so hard not to sneak under his cassock. he could barely keep his moans in, palming his bulge from above his robes at the mere thought of you. no touching means less sin, right? he comes to that pathetic conclusion easily, so all he does is bury himself in the outhouse after distributing his cakes, hips positioned over his pillow and he grinds.

the feeling for father geto was so archaic, been so long since he’s given up his life to God right after graduating university. all the carefree times that he’s experienced — drinking in dorms, going to parties, getting some nice quick fucks in between exams — were going to stop for good. but that doesn’t mean he stopped lusting.

lust. one of the seven deadly sins, a weak point for father geto’s journey as a pastor. it’s obvious now too that he hasn’t really left his older ways, bucking his hips into the fabric of his pillow. he thinks of you, your sweet little eyes and your cute outfit at home, he thinks of your face twisted into pleasure as he’s positioned between your legs.

father geto twitches, friction against the underside of his cock feeling so good after years and years of holding back — with a pretty face to think of, too. his hips ruts in short thrusts, desperate for that high and he chokes on a moan imagining your sweet voice begging to cum. and so does he, shooting such a large, hot load into his underwear that even his cassock is stained with his cum. but unlike you, he’s already thinking of his next round — if he’s doomed to die by lust, then might as well go all the way.

father geto spares a glance towards the door just to be safe before flipping over on his back, and pulls his robes above his lower half. the sight is dirty, underwear painted a darker colour and cum sticking to every part of the fabric. once he wraps a hand around his cock, geto is gone, pumping it so fast he might have gotten a burn along his length but it’s all rewarded by the second quick orgasm he reaches — spurting ribbons of cum all over his holy garments.

it’s why he didn’t have time to write a proper sermon for the morning mass. he was up all night, stroking himself — just, from the thought of you.

it was father geto’s turn to have uneven breaths as you asked if he was okay, hand on your shoulder shaking. but the visions of last night is overtaken quickly by his need to impress the other parishioners, and so he gives you a tense smile.

“enjoy the cake.” it sounded like an innuendo if you’ve ever heard one, but you mutter a soft thank you, before heading off back home with your family. that contact with your shoulder is all you can think of, giddy at the warmth of his hand and eyes.

“baby, could you open the door for me?” your mother calls out to you, hastily wiping her hands on her apron and abandoning the kitchen to tend to your crying baby brother.

“ok, mummy!” the doorbell’s been rung twice now, jogging a little to the door to prevent the person from waiting. you didn’t think to look through the peephole, a tight-knit (conservative) community made you trust anyone, opening the door to find father geto standing in front of you.

“o-oh. hi, father . .?”

he was dressed in his roman collar, a black shirt with a white strip around the neck and some black jeans. it wasn’t as casual as the first day, and it still held an ode to God even on a weekday.

“hi, (y/n).”

“ohhh! it’s father geto, come, come!” your mother bellows throughout the house, baby brother on her hip as she bounces him to get him to stop wailing. “are you hungry already?”

geto displays a meek smile, “a little, mrs (l/n), since you mentioned how big of a feast you were cooking.”

your mouth drops in recognition; was that why she was so preoccupied for the whole day? doing the maximum in the kitchen not just because it was for your father’s recent promotion at his job, but also for dinner with father geto.

“you’re having . . dinner with us.” it’s more of a statement to yourself than a question to the priest, but he still catches on and assists you by closing the door himself, and taking off his shoes. already, he looks part of the family, looking like a hard-working husband coming back from his job to you. instead, he’s answered the vocation of priesthood, and not matrimony.

“it looks like i am.” it’s such a sly comment, like he already knew the effect he had on everyone. this sucking up was just to get every church-goer to like him more, and it’s working.

geto is charming at the dinner table as he is at the parish, cracking jokes that make both your parents and you laugh, talking about his university life and telling a myriad of stories that he’s gone through.

“what did you major in in university, father?” it felt such a weird question, especially with an honorific attached to something that you were doing at the moment — it felt out of place that someone so close to your age was already pursuing a lifetime commitment of serving God.

“my studies focused mostly on philosophy and theology. i minored in linguistics.” there’s a chorus of ooh’s that echo throughout the table, cleaning up the last bit of food on his plate before he continued. “i’m currently going more in depth for latin, which is a stunning language, beyond those who say it’s dead and should stay dead.”

that only makes him hotter, and you cross your legs beside him, looking at him from the corner of your eye at you play with the last meatball on your plate. the sauce leaves a trail of red from the tomato, somehow mirroring the murder of your old self — or what you thought it was. it was more of a knife wound, a cowardly stab in the arm.

that dinner with father geto only deepened your sense of guilt.

it was the way the priest was quick to stand just as your mother does, offering to help with cleaning up the dinner table. even when she brushes him off, he insisted, answering for her when he only silently takes the plates to the back. all your mom does is shake her head with a smile, letting you help as well. your father just watches curiously, entertaining the baby with his canned alcohol.

“i’m embarrassed i can’t fight back against you well enough to stop ya from cleaning up at my own house,” your mother confesses, already having used her last breath to tell him to not help with the dishes as well. you scrub at a stain on geto’s plate over and over, a stubborn one at that until you finally are able to get it out. it still leaves a faint red glow, though.

“it’s nothing, really, mrs (l/n), i’m happy to help whenever.” father geto’s eyes rake over your figure as you clean alongside your mother, heel bouncing up and down; to non-existent music or in impatience he wasn’t sure.

she just takes the soapy plate from your hands with a laugh, “c’mon, it’s okay, my dear. go entertain father geto.”

it was the way his courtesy shined through when he doesn’t enter your room until he has gotten verbal confirmation from you, guiding him in with a uneasy hand as he looked around your quaint little space. it was filled with photos, some plants, tons of research papers and a messy table to match, but all he did was reassure you. you take note of his flowing hair and the laid back hairstyle he liked to don when it wasn’t for mass.

“how is university treating you?” you’re stuck on being completely honest and lying with every answer, but father geto has a face that makes it difficult to lie to.

“it’s . . alright, i guess,” you settle on your bed, crossing your legs and hoping he wouldn’t pick up any of your essays. thinking is manifesting, though, and his hands naturally go for the paper with the many red markings on the front page.

“Paradise Lost? by Milton?” ah. that paper. you shoot up from the sheets before he can read it, because frankly your thesis in that paper was weak and wasn’t well supported, but you still believed it deeply. you were just having a little bit of trouble straying from your reverence for God. you only manage to clutch the top of your paper, but geto is adamant on reading it, piqued by genuine curiosity.

“the retelling of Milton’s Paradise Lost humanises the experience of Satan’s (or Lucifer’s) fall from glory . .” he trails off, reading over your evidences and analysis. you feel like you’re being read like an open book, laid out bare for vultures to pick at and for God to enumerate your sins until you felt no shame.

with his head still tilted down, father geto has to look up through his lashes and bangs, seemingly making you cower more and more in your spot as the unsolicited advice for your essay dies down on his tongue. the size of his hands has you hypnotised, and he decides it’s against his own values to give feedback about a text he so childishly brushed off when he was in university, even if he had to read it to complete four years in the seminary. geto places a hand upon yours and the heat is dizzying; you can’t help but think if he was just normal person, instead, holding your hand like this.

it was the way he let you explain yourself a little better through your own words. it was a premature essay, anyway, made to test out your close reading and citation skills. but he found your interpretation of Milton’s poem to be much more insightful than he expected it to be — you think maybe, your understanding of the text grows the more you learn about your body, how you like to be pleasured; you feel like Lucifer.

“i . . don’t necessarily think you are born into evil. it’s multi-faceted and loaded, this question. God our Father would do anything but create evil willingly, it’s just unfortunate that the people that bring up their offspring contribute to the shaping of their identity and outcome.”

“then, how . .” your lips twist as you think of a way to word the question, “how would that justify evil existing? wouldn’t the fact that evil is developed somehow meant that God created evil in some shape or form, in the first place?”

father geto rushes to answer but—

“why did he have to create the serpent that tempted Eve in the first place? couldn’t he have just left them alone in Eden?”

“...there to dwell / In adamantine chains and penal fire / Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms.”

you frown, not expecting the other to answer but instead just wallowing in your thoughts. you never thought the talk with father geto would turn into some philosophy lesson, but the more you chatted with him on the bed, the more the conversation seemed to steer that way.

your own faith wavers in the night, a quietness settling over the two of you like a cloak of stars. the mass of each star weighs heavily with your questions up in the air until you faintly hear his answer.

“i don’t . . know, miss (y/n).”

“ah! no no— sorry to dump everything on you, father geto,” you scratch the back of your head, “it was just passing thoughts. i’ve never thought to think of this before.”

it was morbid, it was macabre. it was like looking over and seeing a skeleton in your place instead of flesh and skin and yet each question after question ignites something in him that no one has excited before. he can already feel lust influencing the other six, pumping through his veins at a life void of God, void of religion, a free place to think of the omnipotence of a higher being that no one was sure really existed.

“it’s okay . . it’s natural to ask. it’s natural to inquire. God,” he nods like he was in a trance; the word feels weird on his tongue, “God would want this.”

that night you did anything but sin, clutching the essay between your hands and digging your knees into the floor with elbows on your bed until they ached and you prayed. you wished blessings on your family, you wished blessings on the parishioners, you wished blessings on father geto and you wished eternal damnation on yourself.

there’s a heavy pull on your heart when you go to sleep a few minutes after and the dream you have of your body turning to soot and burning with each feet into flames makes you crave salvation all the more — like all a bad dream, it will be fine as long as you pray, and pray, and pray.

but the flesh desires what the heart denies: the more you ‘hang’ with father geto (by God, he was perfectly okay with that word when you let it slip to your mother. he merely throws up a peace sign in a ‘cool’ way and then immediately cringes, but it makes you laugh), the more you find yourself attracted to his morals, to his ideals, to the natural way in which he exists. he could speak for hours on end, voice sounding like birdsong and a chilling breeze all at the same time.

his voice did wonders in your head, as well, coaxing you into betraying your own code; and you betray it easily. that phantasmic voice leaving you to remove your top and pinching your nipples as soft little moans leave your mouth. the imaginary sway of his crucifix above your face while you harshly abuse your clit and dip a finger into you for the first time. the feeling is so foreign and weird that you shamelessly think of the slight lilt of his voice helping you: “it’ll feel better soon, (y/n). c’mon, finger your pussy for father geto.”

father geto had a natural talent for talking and preaching. that downturn of tone like hitting a dead-end when he holds a point above your head (“but”) and then resolves it into perfect cadence like chords ending a phrase when he proposes a solution (“God will take care of everything”). he does it so much you think he’s rather convincing himself more than he’s convincing you, though.

“perhaps this parable that Jesus uses tells us rather to look within ourselves, to look within the vineyard that is us. the owner have done everything: kept the roots tied so it would not be trampled, making sure they get all the sunlight and water it needs, yet . .” he pauses a little, looking at the almost full parish now that he’s won over the hearts of your town. his eyes flit down to you at the second pew, shooting you a quick smile.

“and yet he yields sour grapes. we pray, we act civil and diplomatic, we are giving, but are you truly doing it for the glory of God? is that maybe why we only get the sour grapes — not satisfied with the ‘thank you’ after doing a favour or silence from God after praying daily?”

geto looks over the last bits of the scribbled sermon, a little more coherent than last week, but still done with thoughts of you. there’s multiple smudges of his words that he has to squint and stutter a bit, caused by the frantic cleaning of his cum upon the paper.

“we all . . naturally expect things back, but to be Christian, to be a follower of Christ, we would have to abandon all thoughts of that.” father geto’s mind wanders to last night as his eyes look for you again. “we would need to be generous, to be kind without needing anything in return.”

father geto integrates into the church easily, shown in how his sermons capture the hearts of many. albeit, they never really take in the true meanings of the preachings he gives, but it’s enough for geto if they nod and mutter amen like fools in mass; whatever they do out of it is out of his hands.

but along the many preachings he does, there is one subject he fears approaching: lust, the one thing that threatens the downfall of his vocation and yet he cannot get enough of it. each walk and meeting with you only heightens his desire, makes his cock throb beneath his robes. each sunday he wishes he could split his soul in half — one as the confessor and one as the confessing — and repent in the confessional box.

“today’s gospel from Mark, chapter 6 talks about lust, briefly.” there’s a shake in his voice, eyes now scrambling over the congregation to find you in a much more revealing top contrasting with the out-of-place cardigan you have on. he’s sure it was mrs (l/n) that had made you put that on before you left the house; the house where he’s memorised the placement of your shoe rack and how your door creaks when it’s opened too quickly. geto is so fucked.

geto clears his throat before continuing, seeing you adjust your body for a moment, “King Herod is tempted by his flesh when he sees one of Herodias’ daughters dancing, so much so that she tempts him to commit murder. a clear beheading, just from giving into her body, and when she asks of him, he delivers like a dog. this calls us to truly think of the desires that we possess. they need not be sexual,” soft whispers emerge, a taboo subject, “they can also be related to money, to power.”

“lust for more things turns into greed when we act on that initial lust,” geto is sweating by now. he pulls lightly on his collar when you press your arms together in retaliation and he has to look away from the way your tits perk up so perfectly.

you had to know what you were doing, surely. partially — you were feeling cold, but you stifle a smile when you realise how geto’s eyes linger a little longer on you, or rather your chest, before he coughs and continues,

“when we are driven so terribly by the feeling that we abandon all morals just to please this person, thing on earth is when we tread into dangerous territory. no earthly possession must make you feel this way,”

the irony settles in his bones after he says it and his dick twitches at the thought of having you under the podium right now, sticking his fat cock down your throat while you struggle to keep the gagging noises to a minimum.

“no matter . .” a gulp, “how rewarding the aftermath must be.”

father geto knows you both are braving the edge of God’s merry kingdom. it is just a matter of who falls first.

“your place is in the kingdom of God, meant to fulfil eternal life with Jesus and the Lord which is what we all should be keeping in mind and working towards, ignoring all the distractions that will soon fade and die off.”

geto coughs again in the mic and breaths shakily, finally tearing his eyes away from you before he concludes the sermon and eases into the Offertory and Eucharist. he buries himself so deep in the procession in order to get you out of his mind, and it’s shown in the haste in which he carries the mass. it feels like he rushes so much that even the day outside follows too, because evening seems to arrive earlier than usual.

the sun sets outside, illuminating the altar. it taunts you like reminding you of the beauty of your faith; it deepens the need developing in your core.

“body of Christ.” you can faintly hear it being repeated over and over at the front, just a few steps away from your turn and you wish you weren’t standing behind your dad’s hulking figure so you could actually prepare yourself for father geto. you’re greeted with his cascading hair tied up into a bun and the cup containing Jesus’ body, gold and shining. you see your stretched reflection before your eyes snap back to the pastor in front and you will your hands not to hail routine.

instead, you stick out your tongue for the father to put the communion on and you take in the little panic of his hands and the choked sentence of body of Christ. his eyes drift down to your pink tongue, to the small twitch it does when he places the host on it and he cannot wait for you to get out of his sight, lest he be overtaken by the sin he particularly preached about just minutes ago.

“any test to study for tonight, darling?” your mother asks after dinner, meaning to ask after seeing you be so fidgety like you needed to be somewhere.

“uh . . no, not exactly, but i do have something i need to do.”

“oh! what is it, sweetie?” she doesn’t read your expressions, you mannerisms, so you were safe from that, but you willed your voice to not break. your body is on fire, you needed to quell your needs, now.

“just— i promised father geto i would meet him later for a confession, since he’s so busy, he could only propose a late timing,” no, you didn’t. either way, you give a reason, explain yourself before she can speculate, works every time.

“oh, okay . .” she trails off, seemingly unaffected, “just don’t get home too late, alright, darling?”

you nod even though she’s too focused on the dishes, pressing a hand to her back in thanks and she carries on, carefree, while you sprint to your room. lock the door, get your phone out.

“ . . ings turns into greed when we act on that initial lust . .” the words recorded just hours ago leave the phone speakers on a low volume, already lighting a flame in your pussy when your hand brushes over the microphone and he stops at the same time, “when we are terribly dri . .”

you sigh loudly when your hand starts to make its way down to your centre, rubbing slightly to the sound of his voice. your clit is just begging to be touched, begging for your inexperienced hands flicking your nub in every which way. impatient, your hands dip into your cunt and your jaw drops open at the intrusion of your fingers, just as your eyes widen and your imagination has never worked as well as it does now.

you can see geto’s amethyst eyes boring into yours, you can see his hips fucking into yours and yet it doesn’t give you the same kick as you think it would — you’re fucking yourself with your fingers even faster, circles on your clit increasing in speed and messiness and you smear your juices all around.

“father— father geto—” it was pathetic, the way you moaned for a man of God, but the feeling of your cunt clenching around what you wished was his dick was too good, the coil in your stomach still feeling rather uncomfortable but welcoming and you’re unravelling with a silent scream soon, back arching off the sheets.

“s . . suguru, f-fuck,” the swear word feels weird on your lips, as with his first name, but the trembling of your virgin body is so delicious that you just keep rubbing and rubbing, taking so long to come down from your high as your pants get heavier and heavier. and then his face starts to fade off, eyes turning into lilac air and you’re glancing towards the crumpled essay on your bed with guilt festering in your chest.

“ . . mptations of the flesh are childish, are temporary. they lead you to do foolish things that have no place in the kingdom of God. we may repent and put it past us but the memories that our tainted bodies possess, they remember the sinful things that you did.” the recording of father geto dies out as with his powerful conclusion, speaking so loudly into the mic that it screeches with feedback, you remember. you don’t even know where the guilt builds up from, in your torso and your heart, despite questioning the faith you were in for all your life.

if God did not want us to sin, why did he create temptations and ask us to pray for forgiveness?

you roll over and remove your fingers with a small whine, taking up your phone and opening up the contact with father geto hesitantly. it was meant to be a strictly professional exchange like the conversations he’d had with many other parishioners: updates on the church, changes in mass timings, but your chat was filled with questions from you and answers from him. you didn’t dare ask him anything out of the faith.

[9:37 pm, delivered]: uhm. father geto? are you there?

oh god, it’s you. the you who on the second walk around the town exchanged numbers with him because he found your thoughts so intriguing.

[9:39 pm, read]: Yes, Miss (Y/N). What is it?

you take a deep breath. better to ask for that confession, you couldn’t risk your mother asking about it tomorrow.

[9:40 pm, delivered]: is it alright to have

[9:41 pm, delivered]: can i come over to the church, for a bit

father geto straights up in the rectory, getting closer to the socket where his phone was charging and hovers over the screen. his hands are clammy when typing a response and he manages it in about three minutes.

[9:44 pm, read]: Of course, my dear. The doors of the church are open for the congregation at any time.

bidding goodbye to your mother, you stay on the lit path to the church and you’re bathing in anticipation, too excited to see father geto that you bump into a dark shadow. almost resembling a hard wall, hands emerge from its sides to clutch at your biceps.

“miss (y/n), what is it? what has gotten you up so late at night?” if he was still in university, he would’ve laughed at how he asked that question. hundreds of texts of u up? that mimic the nature of the question right now.

“i was hoping . .” you ignore the tingly feeling of the way in which his hands leave goosebumps along your biceps and then to your forearms. finally, they clutch your hands between his, meant to be like a warm hug but instead is like fire, licking at your fingers and wrist like you’re at the stake. “i was hoping that i could, request you for a confession?”

the priest across you swallows with a nod, swiftly putting a hand across your back to lead you to the booth. you both could’ve done it perfectly fine in the pews, sitting across each other. “the confessional is where we will feel the strongest compulsion of Christ. come,” he answers your question before you can ask it, “take your place on the kneeler behind the curtains.”

father geto showers in the same sea of anticipation when he makes sure you’re okay before heading over to his side of the confessional. he’s imagined this scene over and over — you on the pew kneeler, breath warming the velvet curtains — he cannot help the bulge that forms.

the first words he speak behind the curtain shock you, voice sounding so close yet so muffled and distant.

“come, now, (y/n), make the Sign of the Cross with me.”

Father, Son and Holy Spirit

upon your head, chest and shoulders you do it, taking a deep breath before you start. “bless me, father, for i have sinned. it has been . . about five years since my last confession.”

geto nods, the soft carry of your voice in the late night having an effect on the priest. the hold he has on the crucifix of the rosary is so tight it makes an indent on his skin, the only thing on mortal flesh to keep him from falling.

“What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield.”

your thighs rub together, hot breath sending chills down your clutched hands and down your arm as you ponder over the things you’ve done — “i’ve . . lied to my mother at times, to my friends when they ask me where i’m from. i have stolen money for my own needs, n-not— that high of an amount but um . . still a fair amount.”

“what did you need to buy, sweetheart?”

the name surprises you, but you simply ignore it. “i wanted new clothes — was all the rave at uni when the girls wore miniskirts and little tops. unfortunately it didn’t suit me.”

geto swears under his breath when the image of you in such skimpy clothing infiltrate his thoughts. his curiosity overtakes him; overwhelmed with emotion, he never had the chance to see what you were wearing before he pulls back the curtains and hopes your eyes are closed and they are: pulled tight with quivering eyebrows. there, like a sinning Christian is you in a thin camisole, cleavage showing beneath your arms. he peers lower, gasps softly to himself when you’re wearing a skirt.

“father? father, what’s wrong?” you think you hear the swift swoosh and the rings of the miniature curtain clatter.

“n—nothing is wrong, miss (y/n). are there any other sins you want to confess?”

you swallow, “i . . i’ve wished misfortune on my father.”

not the sin he was hoping for but he wasn’t surprised; his head moves in understanding. he had seen your father — merely a ghost in the house and hardly contributing to fostering the family. it goes against what Mary and Joseph stands for as the Holy Family, but father geto has seen a lot of absent fathers and incompetency to truly be taken aback anymore.

“i’ve also . . i’m not sure whether to tell you this, father geto.”

your breaths were all you could hear in the silence of the church, an eerie quietness settling as if the critters and animals of the earth strived to listen to your ultimate sin, too. Beelzebub, Asmodeus, possibly even Lucifer himself clawed themselves up from hell to eavesdrop.

“of course you can, my dear.” the wind through the wooden confessional box sounds like the hisses of the three demons, like they have had holy water sprayed on them from the mere sounding of his voice; but they look hopefully for a server of Christ to fall exactly like they did.

“it’s, related to my body, father. i,” gulping, you continue with a prompt from the other, “i’ve had this growing need, like, one has when they’re hungry. they have the need to fill their stomachs. or— or a sudden pain you have to massage yourself through, like a cramp in the arm of sorts.”

“well . . is it your torso or your arm?”

“it’s . .” you spare a glance towards your centre under your very, very short skirt, the familiar pulsing of your clit turning more and more prominent. “it’s related to my pussy, father.”

you hear a choke from the other side, and then you realise your choice of words.

“ah— m-my bad! i meant my . . vagina, father geto.”

“no— no u-uhm, the previous term was fine. could you describe what you did? how far did you go so i c-can . . give you the appropriate penance?”

behind the curtains, geto have already started palming his bulge, massaging the ache in his length that still continues to grow and harden. the way you describe is so terribly innocent and unknowing, a deepening urge to corrupt you running through his veins.

“i played with um— my breasts, first. i pulled up my top and felt around my nipples, but i got impatient and . .” geto hangs on to every word of yours, shifting to get his robes out of the way. it was just like the first night: his underwear stained with so much pre-cum it’s probably changed the colour of the garment. he peels it away and the lack of restraint leaves him sighing softly while you ramble on—

“i tried playing with that . . thing between my legs.” you recall the quick google search from that first night, “i played with my clit, father.”

geto stifles a groan into his hand just as he starts to stroke himself softly. “y . . yeah, and?”

“i tried to um . . fit my finger in. it was uncomfortable, at first,” you cannot ignore the pull of your core; your hand shimmies past the clasped hands and down to your skirt. you have no panties to swipe to the side: you came here without any. your finger rubs gently at the throbbing bundle of nerves, a soft whine leaving your lips before you remember you’re in the midst of a confession.

“but i . . i got it into my pussy soon enough. and then i put in another finger.” there was a more audible grunt from the other side, the confessional weirdly heating up immensely as you follow your confession: two fingers easily glide in from just how wet you were.

“when?” there’s a strain in father geto’s voice when he asks it, maybe because he was trying so hard to keep quiet. his jaw is locked as he pumps his cock slowly because his tip is leaking so much that even a simple movement would give him away.

“w-wha—?”

“w-when did you first start . . touching your pussy, (y/n)?” hearing a priest say such a lewd word makes you clench around your fingers.

“after you came to deliver t-that chocolate cake . . father geto.”

“f-fuck—” geto squeezes his eyes shut and it’s like he’s a university student again losing his virginity for the first time by the hands of some random chick pumping him. the implied confession has him stroking faster; it was after that trip he made to your house, it was after seeing you stand at the door like a good little girl, it was because of him, right? right?

you snap back the curtains and your mouth waters at the scene: father geto hunching over the little window that separates the two of you and his head hung low; his cassock gathers around his hips and his cock— good Lord, his cock was so big, clutched tightly between his left hand. his tip was weeping, an angry red as it continued to push out globs of pre.

“f-father!” geto doesn’t seem to care, giving you a drunk and nonchalant glance as he continues to stroke his shaft. he knows it’s wrong, doing this in the house of the Lord but it feels so fucking good. “y-you—”

you’re at a loss for words, pointing to his exposed bottom, but even though you’re speaking out against him, you can’t help but follow his hand as it moves up and down like a spell. his eyes are simply pleading, hips bucking up and you would think he was a parishioner instead. shaking in the presence of God, in the presence of you—

you stick your hand past the squeezy window, drawing his interest and before you know it you’re blindly bumping into his erection. there, he silently grabs your hand, guiding it to his shaft. he uncomfortably leans down to look at your face, eyebrows still furrowed but your tongue stuck out and his dick twitches in your hand.

“s-shit, baby . .” geto swears under his breath, and again when you pull on his dick to the window. uncomfortably his body lightly slams against the partition, a soft thud coming from the booth as his head collides with the wood, “(y/n) . .”

he can’t see you, but he can hear you. “may i, father geto?”

you don’t wait for his answer, gauging mainly from the heavy breaths coming from above you. they really do need to change the confessional, too, because you can clearly hear every word he mumbles out from the holes in the partition.

“shiiit—” when you kitten lick his tip, collection the pre-cum that continues to leave his tip, and it feels better than his Rite of Ordination and when he finally got to host his first mass. it’s better than that prophetic dream he has of God calling him to serve Him and the churches in the city with church-goers of boring faces and predictable stories.

here was a rural place, a place where he never expected such a pretty girl to practice the Christian faith, only to falter in the presence of a pastor. he’s gotten such a cute little slut to corrupt. you start to bob your head slowly, unsure of what to do apart from putting his cock on your mouth. your teeth grazes his skin a little and he hisses.

“no teeth. suck in your cheeks,” he cannot see you but he wishes he can, and he knows you listen to his advice when he feels only the smooth glide of your mouth and he wishes it was your pussy that you fingered.

“going deeper, darling,” geto grunts when he pushes his cock past your mouth and into your throat, the sweet gag you do making him dig his forehead deeper into the uneven wooden partition. he can hear your struggling sounds, the muffled moans with his cock down your cavern. but he cannot go any longer without seeing you and reluctantly he pushes you off, still holding your hand and you seem to catch his drift soon enough.

you’re as eager as him, bouncing off the kneeler and leaving your side of the booth, and you’re opening the door to his. the reality of the situation fully sinks in, geto standing there with his cock dripping with your saliva and your camisole pulled down under your tits.

“oh . . baby,” geto coaxes you into him, under a little spell of his when you trail in a light as a feather. you don’t resist his hands pushing you down to your knees, and just like earlier, you’re sticking your tongue out and the priest looks at you from under hooded lids.

“did you touch yourself to me, little girl?” it comes out stronger than intended but you seem to like it, even when your answers are cut off by him slapping his tip on your tongue. it’s so heavy, his cock, and thick too that you can help but suckle on it when you get the opportunity.

“ever since that day, father geto.” you look drunk, swirling your tongue around the tip and continuing to talk, “i . . i imagine you above me and sometimes i dangle my crucifix thinkin’ it’s yours.”

a small laugh escapes the priest. “did you now?” it’s reminiscent of the time where you praise his sermon. his laugh is cut off as you continue to suck him off, hands still confused. he helps you by bringing your hands to the places you can’t reach and you follow like second nature. “dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?”

“i promise i didn’t know anything before this . . father.” you look up at him through your lashes, big doe eyes proving every last bit of your innocence. aht, partially. you did watch a video of this chick blowing her boyfriend, cumming with your own fingers in your throat, wishing it was geto’s cock in your mouth instead.

but having a real cock in your mouth? it was divine, better than the body of Christ in melting on your tongue. your ministrations speed up, the obscene noises of you gurgling reverberating in the wooden box late at night. it would be even worse at the altar where it would echo everywhere.

“y—yeah, baby, that’s it, that’s it . .” his eyes are shut tight, intoxicated on the way your warm mouth feels. you whine into his shaft, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from how deep he was in you.

“mmf— mmph!” your moans sends vibrations up his body, interrupted when geto thrusts his hips into your mouth suddenly and your nose meets with his pubes, eyes rolling back from the muskiness of his body. it smells like incense and sweat, filling your senses as he keeps you right up to his hilt.

“ohh . . fuckfuck fuucck—!” the father pulls you off to let you breathe, pleasantly surprised when you start pumping him violently, tongue stuck out again. there’s a hint of light from the outside that highlights the pinkness of your tongue and he’s never wanted to cum this badly before.

“i’m cumming— baby, baby, i’m g’nna c-cum—” there’s a long, drawn out whine from father geto upon feeling the warmth of your hands stroking his cock so obediently, resting his tip on your tongue where you’d willingly drink his cum like wine. geto shoots his load into your mouth and is the loudest he’s ever been; he doesn’t care who hears him, he doesn’t care if he gets transferred out tomorrow, all he wants to think about is you on your knees and your nipples hardened from confessing to him. he’d like to bet that your pussy was drooling too, hips bucking into the soft skin of your hands.

some of his cum gets onto your face and on your lips, and geto almost cums again when you use his tip to smear his seed around your face, sucking lightly on his tip.

“dirty girl . .” he pulls on your biceps to bring you up, and your lips meet instantaneously like you were meant to be separated for eternity, doomed only to meet for one day a year. it’s messy and sloppy, drool drips from your sides of your mouths as your lips merge together.

“was that your first kiss, baby?” father geto can tell by how you don‘t know how to follow his lead, teeth clashing and breathing uneven.

“am i that obvious?” you frown, feeling self-conscious, but geto is quick to reassure you.

“father geto’s going to teach you everything you need to know, alright?” he brings you in with a finger to your chin, hovers over your lips like a tease.

he teaches you everything you want to know and more, like how the front of the church looks like and how cold the marble of the altar feels against your back as he eats you out and the sensations are all too much for you. he teaches you that using God’s name in vain is alright when it comes to moaning out how good he makes you feel and how your penance is whatever he makes it out to be he teaches you how you can take not one, not two, but three fingers up your pussy.

they’re so much thicker than your own, one hand pushing on your shaking thighs to keep them open while his three fingers move in and out of you. you’re leaking so much, your virgin cunt dripping like holy water down the white marble and onto the matching marble floor.

he teaches you his first name and he makes sure you say it.

“su—suguru . . god, r-right there—” he latches his mouth onto your clit, suckling and flicking his tongue impatiently because he just wants to see you cum. your legs stretch out to knock over a candelabra and the clatter of the metal against the ground is enough to wake up a whole village but you. don’t. care.

your hips grind onto his tongue, feeling the borderline painful stretch of his thick fingers in you but they reach all the right spots that you can’t find it in you to care.

“you taste so good—” geto spits onto your cunt and goes back to sucking on your clit, “pussy’s so fuckin’ sweet, holy fuck.” your noises come out of you non-stop as you bury your hands in his hair, finally knowing what you sound like in an unrestrictive space under the apse.

father geto teaches you how to take a cock up your cute, tight pussy, not bothering for a condom when basically all of your clothes have been discarded throughout the night. it’s almost midnight and your mother have fallen asleep on the couch, unaware her sweet, sweet daughter is losing her virginity in the place she was baptised, where she got her first communion.

the first push into your drenched cunt is painful, mushroom tip stretching you out slightly as you clutch tightly onto his forearm, brows knitted together at the girth of his cock.

“been wanting . . to fuck this pussy so bad, baby,” geto grunts it out, obsessed with how his length slowly disappears into you. he can feel each ridge of your gummy walls, hugging him so snugly that there’s several moans that leave his lips, “have you been— thinking ’bout this as much as i h-have?”

your jaw stretches beyond your limit when he eases himself inch by inch into you, thanking the hells below that your vision was finally coming true. above you there’s that same crucifix, sterling silver with amethyst stones embedded into the design, you remember, catching the light of the lone spotlight above the both of you. there’s a similar glint in father geto’s purple eyes.

“all the time, father—” you moan out, pulling him by his necklace to your lips that are more experienced now, each minute that passes is one more atom of your body turning black from the fire that licks at you from below the altar. you kiss the lips of your parish priest, whimpering slightly when his hips buck and you feel the stretch more clearly now.

“is this what Isaac felt when Abraham tried to bind him for a sacrifice on Moriah? helpless, confused, betrayed?”

geto lets out a hum, sucking hickeys into your neck and you think it’s a million times better than questioning a God that never showed himself, who never really had the intentions of the people in mind, who created sin to watch the downfall of men while he enjoys his time in his kingdom.

if this was what was meant by losing yourself to your devils, you would gladly shake hands with Lucifer and hope the warmth of the fire in hell would be a hug warmer than any hug you’ve received by people of the Christian faith.

“well, baby, do you feel helpless?” thrust “confused,” thrust “and betrayed?” thrust

he punctures each word with a snap of his hips and the pain gives way to pleasure and soon he’s already lost in the comfort of your pussy, hips starting a pace easily that emphasises just how wet you are. the echoes of your weeping cunt and the lewd slapping of his balls into your ass is like the bell ringing during mass, loud, resonating, it shakes your whole body.

“mmfuck . . helpless, m-maybe,” you whine out, legs wrapping around his back, “confused, n-not— suguruuu, yesyesyes!”

you try again, “n-not really. betrayed . .”

you feel like a sacrifice, but it was willing, of a confession that has led to this lewd showing of just how much the temptations of the flesh were insanely undeniable. there’s a murmur of i don’t think i can last much longer into your ear, cock driving into your tight pussy so harshly you’re hoping the small altar doesn’t move.

“b-betrayed, i think—” you squeal when father geto angles his hips up and it kisses your cervix just nicely, sending multiple chills down your body. your moans penetrate the holy air, hair splayed out like a painting and geto knows this is better than any Eucharist he’s ever tasted.

you clench around his fat cock, and he twitches, switching to short, pathetic thrusts into your pussy and he cries out your name as he cums deep in you, giving you all of his seed deep in your womb. your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of your first load, the warmth already hooking you in and you pull so hard on his hair he has no choice but to follow your hand.

you let him handle you deep into the night, taking you off the altar and pushing you up against it, entering you again and you brace yourself against the marble.

“s-sorry, sweetheart, you were saying?” he also wants to apologise that he hadn’t made you cum just yet, but your pussy’s so fucking heavenly he just has to be in you again.

“i-i feel a little betrayed,“ you sag over the altar, back arching into his hold. father geto is fixated on the movement of your ass fucking back onto him, “that a priest would break his m-marriage to God for me.”

“i thought they were supposed to be men of God,” you barely manage to form sentences. geto’s laugh at that startles you, as with the hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling. payback. you love it, however, a sweet Christian girl turned into a slut, and the last bits of the thread unravels when father geto reaches around to rub your clit.

“’m gonna— cum, suguru—” you whine out, body turning to mush with how hard he rams into your pussy. by now there’s a ring of white around the base of his cock, your juices slowly starting to coat it, too and Lucifer succeeds at sin yet again.

you cannot blame Eve when the serpent is as beautiful and cunning as geto suguru, nor can you blame her when his thick cock just reaches so deep into you, tip kissing your sweet spots and his hand impatiently drawing messy circles on your bundle of nerves.

“that just makes it the best though, right?” geto breathlessly says, “a holy man fucking a virgin raw in a holy place where prayers are said.” your legs are spreading further and further, his sweaty body engulfs yours, you’re dizzy, “you’re too tempting, sweet girl. tempting enough for me to want to abandon priesthood just so i can be buried in this pussy for fucking eternity.”

and you cum, head and heart going a hundred miles per hour as your body trembles in his hold. “there we go, little slut, thereee we go . .” you can feel the chill of the sterling silver into your back and his smile before he orgasms a second time into your waiting pussy, a second, heavy load let go into your pussy. it’s so warm and filling, and you already want more, more, more.

lust for more things turns into greed when we act on that initial lust.

“aw,” father geto coos at your fucked out face, flipping you around to give you a sloppy kiss and forcing himself to his knees just to watch his cum drip out of you, “does she want more?”

“always, father.” you answer with a drunken smile, putting a leg on his shoulder. again, your finger hooks around his crucifix, and you drag the priest down deeper into hell, somewhere father geto would‘ve always ended up.

somewhere where he would renounce his priesthood and worship something, and someone: you.

“Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n.”

a/n: LOOOONG MAN WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS. also i put the author’s note at the bottom this time bc i wanted to format of the fic to look the best without my goofy words ruining it! hope you guys liked it :) / tagging @crysugu @omgeto @kazushawty @suguruplsr @hydrovillette @slttygeto @hyomagiri @jabamin

part two ✶

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holybibly · 25 days

Text

Personally, I think we don't talk about Professor Choi San enough, don't you?

I don't like Mondays, but I like San, and this is just what I need to start the week sinfully.

"You've been behaving very badly lately, Y/N." The voice of your literature professor sounds light-hearted, as if he's talking to you about a fun game rather than an exam that you already failed three times. Besides, you have committed a number of other offences that could have earned you a reprimand, and Professor Choi seems to take every opportunity to remind you. "Skipping classes, constantly getting bad grades, and a generally destructive attitude..." He lists, turning to the blackboard to erase today's topic: "Sins and desires in Dante's Inferno." It was almost impossible not to look at his firm, toned ass, wrapped tightly in the fabric of his trousers. He reached for a particularly large inscription on the board. "For lack of a better term." He says this, turning to meet you, and the expression on his face tells you he notices where you're looking.

You lower your head in embarrassment, avoid making eye contact with him, and pull your skirt down a little.

"You and I both know that we've tried just about everything we could to correct your inappropriate behaviour." Professor Choi says this as you continue to look down in guilt as he walks over to you and slightly loosens the tight knot of his tie around his long, freckled neck. There was something about the way he was able to make such simple things seem so incredibly sexy, with no subtext at all, that made your stomach tingle. You'd be lying if you said you couldn't picture him tightening the tie around you and putting you on a leash as you rode his cock. "You were detained, suspended, counseled..." He stops in front of you, and you can smell his scent—something heavy and dark, like amber and whisky—or sex. God, you thought you couldn't be more despairing, but apparently Choi San was designed to destroy your sanity. "There is only one way that I can think of to solve this problem." He says. Professor Choi brings his hand to your chin, his fingers surprisingly cold, but the metal of his ring is hot on your skin as he gently raises your head to meet his feline eyes.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you stare into the handsome face of the man. If you didn't know better, you'd say Professor Choi's face was hand-carved by the finest Renaissance sculptors, because it's hard to believe that those sharp, perfect lines were created by something as trivial as genetics. He raises a questioning eyebrow and watches your reaction like a predator waiting for you to fall into his trap. Without realising it, you give him what he wants, nodding obediently to his words, your lips parting slightly.

"You have behaved very badly, and to correct this you must obediently follow what I tell you. Do you understand me, or not?" This could be your only chance to back out, but instead you look up at him through the lace of fluffy eyelashes with wide, innocent eyes.

"I do, Professor Choi."

His eyes grow darker and more predatory than they were before.

"I'd like you to bend down over my desk. Now." Professor Choi commands, and you obey immediately, throwing your bag on the floor and resting your forearms on his desk, facing the perfectly clean board. You can feel the fabric of your pleated skirt lift a little and slide higher up your thighs, exposing the delicate ruffled panties made of silk.

You hear Professor Choi move in behind you and feel his sinewy hands sliding down your sides in a teasing way to your hips before he pushes one hand down your lower back until your chest is pressed up against his desk. You support yourself with your arms, your plump tits falling out of the cups of your bra, and your hard, swollen nipples rubbing against the lace of the bra. You hear the rustle of fabric, and when you lift your head to look, San slaps your thigh so hard that you jerk at the impact, and your skin is instantly red.

"You better not move." He says it with a growl and puts his hand in front of your face. "Open your mouth for me." The tie that he has rolled up ends up in your mouth as soon as you open your lips—an effective gag. It's elegant, just like Professor Choi himself.

"Right now there are many other students here, obedient students who listen and respect their professors, unlike you, little whore." San whispers in your ear as he presses his chest against your back, his voice dropping several octaves. "We don't want anyone else to know what a whore you really are to me, do we?" His voice is becoming hoarse and sultry, and goosebumps creep across your skin.

A few moments pass in silence as you become more and more lost in the forbidden sensations of Professor Choi's hands as they slowly explore your body. Your eyes open as you feel San's warm breath on your thighs, his hands pulling down your panties, and the silk moving teasingly slowly against your overheated skin. A small stream of sticky liquid drips from your pussy as soon as your underwear is removed, and you hear San hiss at the sight of it.

"Look, you're dripping for me. Do you always feel like this during my classes?" San moans as he blows lightly on your wet folds, and the sensation makes your knees weaken. "Shhh, honey, I'll take care of that little cunt." Suddenly, the tip of his tongue plunges in and slides between your folds, drawing a strip from your little hole to your throbbing clitor. You gasp for air, but the sound is muffled by the gag. Your legs tremble, and Professor Choi slaps your thigh once more, this time stinging you even more on the skin.

"You will learn that lesson next time, but for now, you are going to take everything that I am giving you." You hear more of the rustling, and then, without warning, his cock is thrust into your tight, humid cunt. Your high-pitched moans are muffled by the gag, but San gives a contented, low purr as he pushes deeper and deeper into you until he's completely inside you. You can feel the fabric of his perfectly pressed shirt brushing against your naked skin as his balls slap against your buttocks.

He doesn't hesitate for a second before he pulls his cock out of you completely and immediately plunges back in. He puts his strong hands on your hips to pull you closer to him, your hands desperately gripping the edge of the table to steady yourself. The drawers of his desk rattle every time his dick slams into your pussy and you realise that, despite the gag in your mouth, anyone passing by at that moment would have no doubt as to what was going on inside the room.

The sensation you are feeling now is so strong, almost overwhelming—the gag restricting your breathing and making your consciousness seem distant and hazy.

Blackened bruises were left on the tender flesh from Professor Choi's firm grip on your soft thighs. The almost painful friction of your breasts against the table and the lace of your bra made you whimper quietly from the rough stimulation, and of course San's cock—thick, warm, and veined—buried itself right into you, striking all the right places with each thrust.

It was enough to make your toes curl up and your pussy squirt out of control. Your juices were sticky and glistening, sloshing around San's cock with every thrust he gave you. A wet, squelching sound filled the entire space of his office. It mixed with his hoarse moans and your pitiful whimpering, muffled by the thick fabric of his tie stuffed into your mouth.

"You won't come until I say so, you little bitch." San hisses, slapping both your buttocks, but not stopping his thrusting, continuing his cock deep and hard into your plump cunt. You whimper, but of course, not a sound comes out of you. Professor Choi leans over you and pulls his tie out of your mouth. "Say my name, pretty." You gasp for breath, the air burning your lungs, but you obediently follow his command.

"Professor Choi!" You squeal as his hand lands on the reddened skin of your ass once more.

"Say my name, Y/N." He growls, and the meaning of his command finally dawns on your mind, clouded as it is by lust.

"San!" As San pulls your shirt off your shoulders, along with your bra straps, and kisses your skin fiercely, the painful sound of pleasure turns into a prolonged moan.

"That's right, beautiful. Be obedient to me." He begins to fuck you more intensely, the thick head of his cock pressing against your cervix with each hard thrust, and before you can make another high-pitched squeal, San pushes two long fingers into your mouth.

You can feel the drool running down your chin, and you can imagine how dirty you must look right now.

"Fuck, look at you, darling." San moans softly, as if she can read your mind. "You're such a good girl, a perfect student." My little obedient slut." You moan around his fingers, and he reminds you that you can't come without his permission, but you can hardly stand it any longer. There's already so much tension in your stomach, and you know you'll be coming on his thick, long cock any minute.

He lifts his other hand from your hip and presses down on your throat, further interrupting your breathing as he drives you mercilessly into the table and fucks you with all his might. You have no chance to hold on.

"Fuck!" You moan, your juices squirting out with every thrust of his cock, and you squirt around him, coming in profusion with his name on your lips. "San, oh my God!"

He pulls out of you, and you feel your cum dripping down your thighs as you struggle to breathe. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence pass before Professor Choi chuckles darkly. He caresses the sore skin on your bottom.

"I thought I told you not to cum, my little one. I'm afraid it's time for your punishment now." When he speaks, his voice is dangerously calm, full of sugary menace, and yet your hole tightens at what he says. "On your knees, my love. I'm going to fuck your pretty little slutty mouth." You moan and almost fall to your trembling knees as you hurry to do what he asks you to do.

You look at Professor Choi for the first time since he asked you to bend over his desk. Apart from the trousers and boxers that have been pulled down around his hips to expose his thick, throbbing cock that is now right in front of your face, he still looks good—almost damn perfect.

"Fuck, are you going to smear that pretty pink lip gloss all over my dick, darling?" San strokes your hair like you are a kitten. He looks amazing—hair slightly damp with sweat, eyes dark and lustful, biting his plump lower lip as he shoves his thick cock into your mouth until the head hits the back of your throat. You gag on him, instinctive tears leaking from your eyes as he tangles his fingers in your hair, forcing you to swallow more and more of his cock as he goes deeper and deeper with each thrust, sloppily fucking your mouth. Your sticky lip gloss leaves a pink glow on his dick and is probably smeared all over your face, and you can see why this is such a turn-on for San.

Your eyes close as you concentrate on the relaxation of your throat and the rubbing of your tongue along the underside of his heavy cock.

"That's right, such an obedient girl." He moans, and you can feel San's cock pulsing in your mouth; he's about to come. He tightens his grip on your hair, pulling at it as you hear his sharp breathing through his nose. You whimper around his cock, the extra stimulation making him growl with pleasure.

"You're going to swallow every drop of my sperm. Every damn bit of it. Just like the pretty little bitch that you are." San gasps to breathe. You suck in your cheeks, suck hard on the head of his cock, and he curses fiercely. He comes out all the way and cums into your open, waiting mouth, spraying thick cum all over your tongue and some on your cheeks until his orgasm subsides. You swallow obediently, and the warm, bittersweet cum rolls down the back of your bruised throat.

You look up at him through your lashes and stick out your tongue to show him what a good girl you have been for him, swallowing every last bit of it.

San leans over, grabs you by the chin, and pulls you into a dirty, wet kiss. You can't even imagine leaving his office looking like that; you look like a total mess. As soon as Professor Choi lets you go, he brushes the sweaty hair from his forehead, runs his hand through it, and hides his dick in the trousers.

"I hope you've learned how to behave yourself, right?"

"Yes, Professor Choi."

"All right, you can go now." You nod in what you hope is a convincing manner and turn to pick up your knickers from the floor.

He quickly picks them up for you and puts them in one of the drawers on his desk.

"You'll have to come back for another lesson, love, if you want them back.".

"I understand, Professor Choi." You mutter, pulling your skirt down over your hips to cover everything.

You walk out of his office, not missing the way San is smiling at you, admiring the sight of your swaying hips, and you close the door to his office behind you.

You don't have any idea how you will come into his class next Monday.

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez x reader #san x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #san smut #choi san smut #choi san x reader #san

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sanakimohara · 3 months

Note

This is my second ever ask in my 10 years of having Tumblr so please let me know if I’m saying this wrong or if this is rude 😅 but please could you do a felix or chan incredibly insanely darkly jealous a lot of breeding kink and rutting and c8ck dumb reader 😮‍💨😅😅 pretty please

“UNDER THE INFLUENCE” L. F.

Awe well I am honored to be your second ask here on tumble. I think I'll take Felix on this one...give him a bit more love in my post stream..

{ MDNI }

+++++++

Today was not supposed to end like this. You had no intention of being in a room alone with him -especially while you both were ‘working’- but here you are. Trembling and writhing as Felix had his fill of you.

It was a miracle that your makeup wasn’t smudged; thankfully, your hair wasn’t too messed up from its original wet and wavy look. No matter how many times Felix ran his fingers through it or if you pressed your head against the thin walls as shrouds of ecstasy hit you, it stayed modestly neat.

One less giveaway of what the two of you were getting up to in his dressing room.

“Felix…F-Felix th-that’s enough….Ahm!” You groan as quietly as possible, trying hard to not let anyone outside the room hear how amazing it feels to have your cunt devoured like there was no tomorrow. The blonde completely ignored your demand, swirling his tongue in quicker circles around your clit before delving into your dripping entrance.

He’d been at it for the past ten minutes at least, never letting you pull your hips away from his oddly rough grip, keeping your legs wide open as you sat on the -previously organized- makeup vanity. You felt terrible about doing such inappropriate things with a man you swore you’d never met all day.

All fucking day.

You’d refused to admit that Felix was your significant other to make the photo shoot between you and a male model less awkward. A small sacrifice you were both used to driving to keep your relationship concealed and stable, but for one reason or another, Felix felt a simmering rage when he heard you deny your ties to them.

He hated it so much that he’d been less approachable and friendly for the better part of the day.

The staff noticed Felix’s change, whispering about how on edge he was on and off camera-cordial to everyone like always- but noticeably annoyed. You’d seen it too, very concerned he wasn’t feeling well and convinced just checking on him during the staff hour-long lunch break wouldn’t do any harm to anyone.

Everyone except you.

Felix was not above taking his growing frustrations out on you. The instant you shut his dressing room door, he’d covered you, hands preemptively inching the bodice of your silk skirt to touch your bare skin underneath as he placed one fiery kiss on your lips after another. “Stop letting him touch what’s mine, angel,” he whispers into your parted lips, drinking in the immediate whimpers you let out in return.

“You can’t be serious, Lix. More than half of the shoot requires us to “

He rolled his eyes, smirking in disbelief at your attempt to reason with him, “Does it look like I fucking care. Either keep his hands off you, or I’ll ensure it myself.” The rare sight of anger adorned Felix’s gentle features, voice a rumbling whisper, and the combination propelled you into subspace within seconds. He was never this openly possessive. He’d pout or sulk if you didn’t give him attention occasionally, but this…

This was new.

It made you nervous under his gaze, rendering you speechless as he hugged you close, lips reconnecting to your own in another sequence of tender kisses as he walked you backward into the vanity. Your exposed back hit the mirror with a soft ‘thud’ and you flinched away from it. Felix brought you close to him, letting his warmth resolve your shivering and trailing his hands over the intricate details of your artistic bralette.

You pulled away, smiling proudly as Felix took a moment to admire your decorated breasts, eyes darkening with desire as you leaned back with a knowing smile on your face. “Like what you see, Liz?” You tease him, giggling softly as you turn your head to look at him through the reflection. He nods slowly, tongue poking one of his cheeks as he snakes an arm around your waist, closing the tiny gap between you two and effectively spreading your legs to frame his waist.

“You know I do, angel. Always will…” he mutters adoringly, placing a trail of heated kisses along your neck, shoulder, and finally, the curve of your breasts. He groaned in displeasure as he realized the material was intricately clasped, making it a hassle to remove and one less place on your body for him to play with.

Felix solves the dilemma quickly, licking a long stripe over each one before nipping at your skin until barely visible bruises are raised on your skin. Your face burned hot, lust seeping to panic as he marked what he knew to be his, and though it felt amazing, you knew he was inching you both towards exposure.

“Lix, please don’t…they’ll see those…mm,” you bit back a moan as he made another affliction, purposefully making it noticeable. You flinched against him, hands flying to claw into his shoulders, “That’s enough…” you moaned into his ear. The demand lost its edge as it slipped off your tongue, concern becoming a blur as Felix tangled a hand in your hair, pulling it so you had no choice but to let him stain your skin with as many love bites as he pleased.

Your brows knitted together as each one became more intense than the last, the arm around your waist holding you flush against him, adding to the mind-numbing pleasure he was inducing.

You tried one last time to reason with him, stuck in thralls of heat and logical thinking, “Felix…th-“

He cut you off immediately, devoid of any sympathy for your plight, and his authoritative tone made that abundantly clear.

“I don’t care,” he retorts, and you whine in response, “..But I do.”

Felix laughed dryly, inwardly amused by your signature pout but unsympathetic with your reasoning. “You shouldn’t,” he replies softly, bringing his hands to caress your face. You stared up at him lovingly, leering into his touch as he pecked your lips, the subtle hums of approval thundering in his chest, building the pool of heat in your core.

“I know, Lix….” You murmur into the kiss, feeling his hands drop to your thighs, giving them light-handed squeezes. You subconsciously roll your hips to get his touch closer to your dripping cunt. He smiles against your lips, chuckling at your eagerness and immediately giving in to you.

“Desperate little angel, aren’t we?” He teased you, discreetly slipping the many rings off his fingers as you nodded your head and let out a breathless “mhm” in response. Felix shifted your silky skirt to the side, draping the fabric off of your legs as he cupped your mound with one hand. He bit his plush bottom lip as your hips bucked into his hold. A sheer thong was the only thing keeping your soaked folds away from him, and he remedied the obstacle by pulling it to the side.

“Fuck…” you hiss as the cool air hits your exposed cunt, slick going ice cold as Felix prodded to skilled fingers past your entrance. “It’s a miracle you don’t have cum running down your leg, love. It must be so hard walking around this wet for me, yeah?” His voice carried so much weight, doubling down on your own pleasure as he fingered you at the slowest pace possible.

You were at a loss for words, thoughts, or any coherent reaction as he curled his fingers forward to hit your sweet spot. Felix wanted a verbal answer, not just the satisfying gratification your moans brought him, “Need to hear you, angel..or I’ll stop.” You shake your head in displeasure, blushing heavily as you rush a reply, words slurring into excited whimpers.

“Y-yes…s-Ahm….fuck Lix…y-yes you’re right….”

“Good girl…” he whispers, pumping his fingers faster and pressing your clit with the pad of his thumb. You yelp quietly, whining curses as a familiar tightening ramped up in your stomach, and you clenched around his fingers as a result.

Felix groaned vicariously, smirking wildly before withdrawing his hand. “N-no! Lix, please!” You nearly shout in agony at the loss of fullness, ready to cry as he drops to his knees, faking a frown as he comes face to face with your glittering core. “You’re being awfully loud for someone who doesn’t want to get caught, love.” His warm breath fans the slick entrance as he speaks, putting you in a daze that intensifies when he flicks his tongue against you.

“Don’t care anymore…jus’ wanna cum,” you mewl as he focuses on the task at hand, finding the rhythm to taste you with his tongue perfectly and urging you to cum in his mouth with every deliberate action.

His blonde hair tickled your thighs, low moans sending vibrations through you in waves and heightening the toll your climax took on you.

Felix refused to stop until your cunt was all he’d be able to savor for the rest of the day. You nearly fell forward on him in a state of elated exhaustion as he stood back up and kissed you deeply. Your eyes slid shut as the creaminess of your release and his spit seeped down your throat, a wanton moan spilling from you both as his tongue danced with yours, and your hands traveled up to grip his hair.

“Careful…” he grunts, the sound giving way to an altered whine. You pull the blonde strands harder, lips connecting to his jawline and making your own mark on his tan skin. He reaches for his belt, glad his outfit wasn’t nearly as complicated as your own, and a sigh of relief comes out as a sharp exhale through his nose the moment his cock springs free.

You smile against his skin, eyes trailing down to get a view of it, “You’re such a hypocrite,” you taunt him. Amused to see how affected Felix was by the mere thought of another man laying his hands on you.

He groans, muttering a semblance of disagreeable words before shoving you back with gentle force. The conjoined feeling of the cold mirror hitting your heated skin and the instantaneous contact of his throbbing shaft gliding up and down your glittery folds has your back arching as ripples of pleasure course through you.

Felix drops his head to the crook of your neck, a few strands of his hair ghosting your skin as he places featherlight kisses. “Lix..” you mumble lowly, unable to think straight as he breathes in your scent, his hands grazing down your spine as he does.

“Promise me he won’t touch you again,” he whispers in your ear, his hips pausing, the tip of his cock inching into you ever so slightly. You whined loudly, head lulling back as your brows furrowed in frustration, one hand slipping from his tousled hair to clasp around his throat. Every breath he took raised his Adam’s apple, your thumb gingerly baring down the muscle as you shook your head slowly.

“I can’t..please don’t make me,” you plead for a compromise, but Felix disregards the refusal, pushing into your cunt inch by inch, torturing the both of you with the long-awaited security your fluttering walls would impose on him. “Yes, yes you can…you will. Promise me, sweetheart. Open your pretty mouth and swear to me that you’re all mine..” Felix shifted between pleading and demanding, eyes flickering from your expression of pure ecstasy as he sunk all the way into you to the space where you two connected.

A train of thought no longer existed for you as he pulled out slowly, slamming back so harshly that the vanity quivered from the subtle force. Your mouth fell open, eyes rolling in earnest bewilderment the rougher Felix got. “Fucking answer me…,” he groans, burying his cock in you, and refusing to move until you stuttered out a response.

Work be dammed. Telling some random guy to keep his hands to himself for the next few hours paled in comparison to your need to cum….and was honestly a task you’d do whether Felix was coercing it out of you or not.

So, as much as you cared for professionalism…it’d have to take a backseat to whatever emotion he was dragging you into now.

“I. I promise it won’t happen again…I promise, Lix…” You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded, past the point of modesty and clinging to Felix for dear life as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. Your chest pressed into his, the intricate details on your bra chilling his burning skin and prompting him to hold you there with an arm snaking around your waist.

He fisted the sheer material of your skirt, almost ripping through it as he tugged it higher, nails digging into your skin possessively, and you winced in pain as he brought his lips to your ear again. “Hm, does it hurt, angel?” He asks, feigning concern, and the contrast of the sweet gesture amid brutality made your head spin endlessly. “Y-yes,” you huffed as a moan built in your throat, quickly slipping out as he shifted one of your legs up and around his lean waist. The adjusted angle drew a surprised cry from you, cunt gripping every ride and vein of his cock as he took advantage of the position. He was bruising your sweet spot with an intensity and speed you’d never experienced before.

Felix was generally endearingly romantic and rarely this aggressive with you. Seeing, well, witnessing this side of his character was an edge for you on its own.

You were surprised that you managed to hold out this long without cumming and even more taken aback by the steady stream of arousal pooling on the vanity beneath you. Felix noticed it too, cock twitching inside you as pride flooded his system, “You’re making such a mess, pretty girl… does it feel that good?” He grinned triumphantly when you nodded without hesitation, hips rolling to meet his thrusts at an even pace for as long as possible.

“Gorgeous, so…fucking gorgeous..” he praises your every reaction, running a hand down the expanse of your torso, stopping to press down where you could feel his cock the most. You blushed as the applied pressure emphasized exactly where Felix was inside you.

The coil in your core teetered on the verge of snapping, your hands disappearing underneath the hem of his designer dress shirt, and your manicured nails scratched into his toned torso. The simple action caused Felix to buck his hips and wrap his free hand in your hair as he brought you into an open-mouthed kiss. It was sloppy, void of any decency, as the both of you chased your high at the expense of the other.

You clawed at his skin, moaning louder as the knot in your stomach begged to loosen for the third time in a row. He stared into your dreamy gaze, reading the warning in them as he held your head close to his.

Felix wanted nothing more than to etch this very moment into your mind for the rest of the day -your life. The thought of you walking around, filled to the brim with his cum as you posed for one picture after the next plagued his conscious, and undid the last link of reason for him.

“Fuck this,” he snapped, brows furrowing with determination as he pulled out of you, and slid you off the vanity to bend you forward on it instead. Thankfully, you caught yourself in time, too dazed to stop him from kicking your legs apart, and reentering you from behind. “Felix…” you groan exasperatedly, shuddering as his cock stretched your cunt with ease, causing a thin drip arousal to slide down your inner thighs.

The blonde leaned over you, a hand resting on the curve of your back as he returned to his pace from earlier. Sweat starts to build on his tan skin, a concentrated expression adorning his angelic features as he pounded into you.

Blank.

Your mind was entirely blank the longer he bullied his cock against your sensitive womb and the tension mounting in your body multiples exponentially as he lowered himself to speak in your ear lowly.

“This is where you belong, angel. Just like this, with me, an no one else understand?”

You nodded weakly, fighting back tears as the urge to cum from the sound of his voice tempted you.

It’d only take one more possessive word from him -paired with that salacious smile on his face- to unravel you. Felix was at his end, too, eyes sliding close as the precision of his thirst became a tenuous blur.

“You think he’d use you this well, love?” He slurs the question, unintentionally pulling your hair as he snaps his hips harder. “No…”you sigh deliriously, reaching a hand to run through his hair and bring him in for a heated kiss, while the other latched against the mirror to hold you steady under his weight as the knot in your core spiraled loose.

“That’s it….angel, fuck, you feel so good…” Felix doesn’t even try to be discreet, zoned in on the way your cunt gushes on his cock, greedily taking the hot ropes of cum he releases. Oxygen alludes to you for a few seconds, an overbearing heat rushing through you and your body quivering in the aftershock.

You looked divine. Unreal even. That pleased smile on your lips as you giggled shamelessly only added to the glow you emitted in your shared highs.

“He won’t touch me again, Lix..” you panted softly, smiling more expansive as you clung to him tiredly and laid your head on his shoulder.

He understood then. Why he’d felt so stricken with jealousy over you the whole day. Yes, he loved you, but the underlying notion that no one else knew it angered him.

What good would it do him not to try and claim you, at least? If fucking you into the bliss of oblivion was what needed to be done….he could make that sacrifice.

Felix kissed the top of your head, grinning as you whined defeatedly as he shifted his hips to settle his cock further into you, “See, that wasn’t so hard to agree to, now was it, love?”

You pout, raising your head to glare at him playfully, “No….but now the stylists will have to cover me in two layers of foundation!”

Felix raised a brow, gently rolling his hips into again, and you melted underneath him at the overstimulation. “Who said we were done, angel?” He asks, smiling at your fucked out reflection shifting to a look of desperation. You opened your mouth to say something but the words died in your throat, replaced by a broken moan as he gradually pumped his length past your tender walls, spreading his cum over them, and edging you both to another round.

This was not how your day was supposed to go, but there was no fight left in you, and certainly not enough left to refuse being stuffed full with Felix’s cum for the next thirty minutes.

Felix chuckled at the sight of you accepting your fate, subconsciously rocking your hips back to meet his, and welcoming the oncoming warmth of his accumulating releases.

Maybe making him jealous could be your new favorite hobby….

++++++++

This one was fun. I'm kind of proud of how it came out too....my editing is getting better hehe.

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Credits to owner 🖤 FYI if I met him and he made a joke I’d start laughing the same way zendaya was cracking up everytime Tom holland opened his mouth….i mean how else am I gonna convince Felix he’s my soulmate lmao 🖤

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sketchguk · 7 months

Text

part time lover; jjk (teaser)

➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader

➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au

➵ word count: 484 (teaser) / 30.8k

➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.

only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.

➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk are both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison), jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love).

➳ publish date: saturday, october 14th 8pm EST

➳ a/n: this fic is part of the "industry baby" collab hosted by the lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk! i'm so happy to finally release this fic in honor of spy x family season 2!

smut warnings below the cut!

➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot

It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins.

“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours.

Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?

Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating.

But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee.

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.”

Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.”

After all, this is just pretend.

But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner.

Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.

check it out here!

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts fan fic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction #spy x family au

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

Best friend!James with very little boundaries is my new fav 🥴 and when you try to explain boundaries most best friends have to him he just tilts his head like a puppy cause he doesn’t understand 🥰🥰

this post is 18+, minors dni.

It's not that you don't want James to see your boobs. It's just that maybe, you'd rather him have seen them chubbed up in a tight lacy bra, not hanging loose and soaped up in the shower. You'd had no time to cover yourself when the shower door slides open, James's head popping curls-first into the steamy space.

"Love," He calls, and you flinch violently, "Have you seen my red water bottle?"

"Wh- James!" You shriek, hands frantically trying to cover both your tits and your cunt, "Get out!"

In your haste to make yourself modest a few droplets of water fling off of your skin, dotting over James's face and narrowly avoiding his eye.

'Ah-" He grimaces, rubbing at his now-wet face with his hands, "What's the matter with you? I just want to know where my water bottle is!"

"I'm in the shower," You gush, cheeks hotter than the water at his presence while you're so vulnerable, "James, who barges in on someone in the shower?"

"Someone who's looking for his water," James groans, blinking blearily at you, "Relax, darling, 's not a big deal. Everyone's got a body."

You're aware of that. James has a habit of walking around with his completely exposed, and you have a particularly hard time pretending it's not affecting you. You see his dick nearly as much as you see his face, and it just so happened to be on your mind beneath the steamy water just before James decided he was joining in on your shower.

"Well yeah," You huff, thighs clenched, "-but- but these are my tits! You can't see my tits!"

"You've seen my tits," James squints incredulously at you, "And I'm not even lookin' at 'em! My eyes are on your eyes!"

"Your eyes need to be out of the bathroom," You groan, "James, normal roommates do not see each other naked."

"Yeah, but we're not normal roommates, are we?" James furrows his brows, "We're best friends. Listen, if it really bothers you, love, I'll-" He flounders, "-Uh, cover my eyes." He does so, throwing a lazy hand over his face. "But I'm still looking for my water bottle."

"Best friends don't- ugh," You shake your head, still covering your body despite the fact that James has shielded his eyes by now, "Never mind. Your water is," You blink rapidly, trying to clear your brain from the fog that's settled over it now that James, James Potter, your best friend has seen your tits, "It's on the table on the patio, James. You left it out there last night."

"Thanks," Even through his makeshift face-covering you can see his grin, and you're sure his eyes are scrunched with happy little lines at the corners, "You're a lifesaver, babe."

"Just get out," You breathe, heart pounding in your ears, "And- and you'd better be clothed when I get out of the shower!"

He takes your advice. Partially, you suppose, because when you wrap a towel around yourself and step out of the tiled walls, James is standing at the kitchen counter pantsless, brushing his teeth. The shirt he's wearing is yours, and it's cropped, and his lower half is completely exposed.

"James!" You snap, nearly dropping your towel in an attempt to cover your eyes, "I said clothed!"

"I am clothed!" He insists, words garbled with toothpaste foam, "You were freaking out about tits in the shower, so I covered mine! What more do you want?"

"Pants, James, pants! I want you to put on pants!"

"You're not wearing pants," James grumbles, "That's not fair."

"I've got a towel-" You break off, suppressing an exasperated scream as your cheeks flare once more, "James, best friends don't see each other naked."

"Yes they do," He snorts, "We do. Why wouldn't they?"

"'Cause it's inappropriate," You whine, still scrunching your eyes shut in the warm bathroom, clutching your towel for dear life, "That's something only your girlfriend should see."

"Eh," He spits his toothpaste into the sink, you hear it hit the basin, and you imagine him shrugging, "You're close enough. 'Think we should just kiss and make it official?"

"James," You warn, stomach engaging in an impressive gymnastics routine," Do not joke about kissing me while your cock is out."

"Relax, darling," You hear him rinse and spit, then you feel his lips against your temple, a sensation that makes you full-body flinch, "Wasn't a joke. I'm gonna go put some pants on, m'kay?"

And just like that, he's gone. Of course, he doesn't bother closing the bathroom door behind him, and the second you shut it your back is pressed against it, head thrown against the door. Evidently, it makes too loud of a noise, and your silent freakout is interrupted by James.

It seems to be what he does best.

"Darling?" He calls, doorknob turning beside you, held closed only by your weight, "Are you alright in there? Did you fall?"

"No! No, James," You call, eyes wide and cheeks ablaze, "Don't come in."

"Are you okay?" He presses on, and you gush, 'Yes!'

"I'm fine," You promise, trying desperately not to envision James's half-naked form so that you don't need another, much colder shower, "Just- put some pants on, James. Please."

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction #roommate!james

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sebastianwallows · 1 year

Note

I've been scrolling through your page and I'm obsessed! I love your headcannon posts. <3 Do you think you have any 18+ headcannons for Sebastian/Ominis/Garreth getting aroused at seeing MC walk down the stairs all dolled up for The Yule Ball? And their inappropriate thoughts about MC throughout the ball? Obviously Ominis would have to rely on touch or smell.

Headcannons for getting aroused when they see your Yule Ball outfit

Ominis Gaunt x f!reader; Sebastian Sallow x f!reader; Garreth Weasley x f!reader Ominis Gaunt x m!reader; Sebastian Sallow x m!reader; Garreth Weasley x m!reader

Warnings - 18+ suggestive thoughts and descriptions

A/N - Yay! I love to hear that anon. I hope you enjoy this one :)

Ominis x f!reader

as soon as he heard whispers and gasps from everyone else, he knew you were the one coming down the stairs

he turns towards you with a smug smile on his face since he knew you'd be by his side all night

when he walks up to you to take your arm and his fingers brush up against the soft satin or sultry lace that fell over your waste it takes a lot for him to keep his mouth closed

he loves those textures on you, he strongly associates them with times when you're panting and begging him to please yo

he would whisper to you about being naughty by choosing such a dress and struggling not to adjust his cock in his pants

when you whispered back telling him to wait until he found out what was beneath it his mind just went crazy and he hoped it was dark enough that nobody would notice how aroused he was

the whole night he would be fantasizing about what would greet him if he slipped his fingers beneath your gown

he thought about whether you would have on any stockings, strained by the belt that held them up at your waist

he thought about if he would be greeted with sticky thighs and your bare cunt or some more lace that hardly covered your private bits

he would spend the night staying close to you, although he's normally not one for pda, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you

it would be subtle and nothing daring, but a constant hand around your waist or shoulders bumping into one another

as you slow danced he would be in close proximity to you and telling you the filth that was in his mind

his erection pressed gently up against your hips as a reminder of what exactly it was you had to look forward to later

Sebastian x f!reader

he would have planned to go all out with a reaction to embarrass you like catcalling you and whistling when you showed up

but instead he's just speechless with his mouth hanging open

his eyes are glued to how your outfit fits you so perfectly

when you make your way down the stairs you walk up to him and place a finger on his chin to close his mouth for him

he seems to snap out of it and he winds his hands over your waist, giving you a sly smile

"this dress is going to look amazing on the floor tonight"

he definitely had a hard-on, but he tried his best to ignore it

you spend the night going back and force in attempts to tease each other

he tries to impress you when you dance together and when he removes his jacket and pushes his sleeves up his arms to try and relieve the heat he's feeling, you really start feeling your own

Sebastian is mentally undressing you all night and tries to take guesses at what you're wearing underneath your dress

he feels like he's on fire anytime you touch him

he's really married to the idea of bunching your skirts up and fucking you with your dress still on

Garreth x f!reader

super flustered when he sees you

he's quick to scoop you up and takes a moment to twirl you around just to look at you

the look of lust in his eyes isn't one that's easy to miss

he lets you lead the night, if you want to dance that's where he'll be

if you want a drink, he's off to get it

he's shockingly quiet during the socializing because he just keeps eyeing a different part of you

every time you shift he's looking for a new sliver of exposed skin or a strain in the fabric that shows him the outline of your body underneath

he's definitely trying and failing to hide the tent in his pants all night

but you insist he loosens up and relaxes, promising you'll take care of him later

which just makes his thoughts stray even more

he imagines the indents of the bodice in your soft skin and kissing ever one

he's thinking about undressing you as slow as possible to appreciate how much effort you put in to the ensemble

Ominis x m!reader

he would hear Sebastian comment sadly about he liked your dress robes much more than his own

Ominis would smile as you descended the steps and took his hand

you would let him know you selected colors just to correspond with his, per Sebastian's sleuthing, and Ominis would heat up on the spot

he would comment about wishing he could appreciate it better

in response you would turn to face him and guide his hands up to your shoulders, dragging them down your silky coat lapels and over the ruffles of your shirt

stopping his hands at your hips to avoid being indecent, but you would notice how his lips part

"Merlin, you're going to be the death of me"

he loved peeling silky and soft clothing from you, it felt much more intimate than something rough like cotton

because he knew it had been carefully selected for him

he would stick close to you and frequently behind you, with hands wrapped around your waist so you could feel his arousal firmly against your backside

when you would be having a conversation with others he would lean to your ear and whisper things to make you go feral

about how badly he wanted to trace his fingers over your stomach and down to your cock

how he wondered if you sat down with your robes just right, he would be able to palm you through your trousers without anyone noticing

Sebastian x m!reader

he would be waiting for you, looking cocky with his arms crossed

he would be doing his best to contain how much he wanted to chase you back up the stairs to take your clothes back off

he would walk up to you and give you a lingering kiss that was practically begging you to run off somewhere else with him

he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you

when you danced his hands would be at your hips or shoulders

when you had a seat he would be tracing dangerous circles on your thigh

his own legs would be spread open in a teasing invitation where you could see that he was aroused

he would be thinking about how good you feel pressed up against him

he loves to fight with you to try and be the more dominant one during lewd things but he loves it when you eventually just put him in his place

he's just spending the night thinking about how good your going to feel inside him

Garreth x m!reader

completely speechless when you come down the stairs

when you're at the bottom he scrambles forward to retrieve you so you weren't just standing there

he's a mess as he takes in your dress attire and loves seeing you in something more fitted

you can't hold back from teasing him, asking if he likes what he sees

in response he angles himself towards you in a way where he shamelessly grounds his erection against you

he ends up being more quiet than usual, but he's very giggly

he's basically giving you bedroom eyes every time you look at him

he's taking in your form and thinking about all the sweet spots that lie underneath

he's thinking about all the places he knows you love being kissed and suckled on

even though it wouldn't put out his own fire at all he's thinking about how amazing you would look in your outfit, standing above him and forcing his head onto your cock

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suashii · 8 months

Text

୨♡୧ DRUNKEN CONFESSION — geto suguru x reader. sfw. fluff. college au. reader is intoxicated. lots of flirting + kinda self-indulgent.

never in a million years would you have imagined walking side-by-side with geto like this. the man is practically a celebrity at your school—chased after and envied. and, like it’s normal, he’s here beside you. not as discreetly as you think, you spare him a glance out of the corner of your eye.

you had accidentally bumped into him earlier, the collision resulting in a good majority of the contents of your cup ending up on his shirt. profuse, slurred apologies fell from your mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind much about his ruined garment—in fact, he was more concerned about you. so much so that he had been kind enough to offer to walk you home.

thinking back on it now, it was a rather impulsive decision to leave without the group you arrived with, and with a guy you’ve spoken to no more than ten times, at that. but no one’s known for making particularly good decisions while under the influence, right? and, you were smart enough to shoot your friends a text explaining your whereabouts in (what you hoped was) the unlikely event that your choice to take geto up on his offer turned out to be a bad one.

although, that much didn’t seem like it would be the case; he’s been a perfect gentleman thus far—leaving a fair amount of space between the two of you and only letting his hand ghost over the small of your back during those moments when you seem unsteady. you should be thankful that he’s so chivalrous, and you are, but a little part of you, one swayed by the alcohol in your system, was hoping he’d be a little more touchy. nothing inappropriate, just an arm around your shoulder or some simple hand-holding.

you look at geto again, more directly this time. his chocolatey eyes are focused forward and the moonlight glints off the two silver hoops wrapped around his lips. you’ve always found him pretty, but the gentle aura of the night makes his beauty seem even more delicate.

you’re positive you would have ended up staring at him for the rest of the walk if it weren’t for your foot catching on the sudden rise of the sidewalk.

before you’re able to trip forward and make contact with the pavement, geto’s hands are on your hips, firmly pulling your figure against him. “woah, careful there.”

“sorry!” you apologize, wriggling out of his hold so you can turn to face him. he doesn’t look the slightest bit annoyed, in fact, there’s a soft smile tugging at his lips. if you were sober, you’d be capable of picking up on the humor hiding in it.

“it’s fine,” he assures you. you’ve been swaying since you two crossed paths at the party and geto has a hard time believing that’ll wear off any time soon.

“we still have a while ‘til we get to your place,” geto’s voice trails off with the last word as he turns around and crouches. you wordlessly stare at his back until he looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. upon seeing your confusion, he spells it out for you. “hop on.”

“are you sure?” you ask him. “i can walk.”

geto’s is sure that statement isn’t true. “yeah, get on.”

you fight the smile threatening your lips as you climb onto his back, your arms loosely wrapping around his neck, wrists crossing at his collarbone. long legs boost the both of you up and geto’s arms snake under the backs of your knees before he sets off in the direction you’d been walking.

the cool breeze is even more evident against the warmth of your cheeks. this is a new proximity, one you haven’t been warranted before. you can feel the bit of skin exposed from beneath his t-shirt against your forearms, see the scrunchie holding the top half of his hair up in its bun. the scent of his shampoo—coconut, you think— wafts through the air, pleasantly meeting your nostrils. it’s hypnotizing, drawing words out of you that you certainly wouldn’t voice if you were sober. “you know, i’ve never really liked guys with long hair.”

he can’t conceal the snort that sounds in the night air. “is that so?”

you hum in confirmation, nodding your head despite geto not being able to see you. the rational part of your brain that would normally urge you to shut up isn’t functioning at the moment, so you continue. “but i like yours. it’s kind of hot.”

geto’s lips wobble in an attempt to hold back his laugh. alcohol makes you bold, huh? on the few occasions you two have interacted in the past, you were never this forward. geto has an eye for picking out those who are interested in him—they don’t make it hard. though, you completely slipped past his radar.

“you think?” he asks through a chuckle.

“yup,” you reply, popping the “p.” there’s no end to your vomit of words. once you’ve started talking, it’s difficult to get you to stop. “all my friends think it’s sexy when you tie it up before practice.”

geto doesn’t know what’s more surprising—how easily you’re giving up the information or the fact that he somehow missed you in the bleachers. it’s not the moral thing to do considering your current state, but he’s curious enough to ask, “what about you?”

“hm? what about me?”

“do you think it’s sexy?” he clarifies.

the burning in your cheeks is back but you don’t feel embarrassed, not the way you would if geto had asked you any other time. alcohol is your truth serum and without thinking of the consequences you’ll be facing in the future, you tell him, “yeah. you’re, like, super attractive.”

he was only teasing before but your answer makes geto’s eyebrows shoot up. as cocky as it sounds, the man doesn’t normally find such declarations surprising. although, that isn’t the case when it comes to you. he has no intention of telling you so when you’re drunk, but the feeling is mutual. geto clears his throat before his next words. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” there’s a sing-songy lilt to your voice that tells him your head is still swimming.

your willingness to so honestly answer each of his inquiries raises another question in geto’s mind. it’s a tad bit shameless on his part but you likely won’t even remember this exchange come morning considering your condition. and, geto thinks, the question is harmless enough—just a little flirting. “so, what do you like most about me?”

“mm, definitely your smile.” your reply comes almost immediately like you had been waiting for the opportunity to tell him so. the observation makes the corners of geto’s lips turn up. “it’s really pretty. but your piercings are a little intimidating.”

“oh?” geto’s pace slows down as he approaches the building you had told him was yours when the two of you were leaving from the party. he squats down to let you off his back and your feet haphazardly meet the pavement before you steady yourself. the crunch of pebbles beneath his shoes sounds in the air as geto turns around to face you. “you don’t like them?”

“i do,” you start, “i just bet it feels weird when you kiss, right?”

once again, geto’s eyebrows meet his hairline in a show of surprise. unconsciously, his tongue pokes out to toy with the cool hoops wrapped around his lips. “wanna see for yourself?”

“what?” you squeak, your eyes widening at geto’s suggestion. sure, you’re curious but that’s not what you meant. for the first time all night, you’re flustered. “i didn’t say that!”

he holds a fist to his mouth to hide his laugh which is still plainly audible despite his effort. with the same hand, he waves you off. “i was kidding.”

your lips are still parted in shock and you can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, but you nod in understanding.

“come on,” geto jerks his head in the direction of your building, “let’s get you inside.”

he leads the way with your instruction, typing in the four-digit pin to gain access and pressing the button in the elevator to take you to the third floor. you stop outside your door to pull your keys out of your bag, sticking the carved metal into the keyhole after a few attempts. you can’t see it, but geto’s lips pull up as he watches your struggle.

when you finally get the door open, you step inside your apartment. geto’s feet stay rooted to the floor of the hallway.

“drink some water before you go to sleep, okay?” he advises you.

too embarrassed to speak after the last mishap, you stick your arm out and thumb up, a smile accompanying the gesture.

your uncharacteristic silence draws a quiet laugh from geto. he raises his hand in a wave. “see you around.”

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: jujutsu kaisen #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto fluff #jjk fluff #geto drabble #jjk drabbles #geto imagines #jjk imagines #geto scenarios #jjk scenarios

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incognit0slut · 5 months

Note

You got me lookin through my music like a mad man! But I wanted to send in a request and say congrats on 3k!!🥳 the song I was hoping to get was “Girls Need Love” by Summer Walker, I was thinkin along the lines of BAU reader just been stressedddd and she just needs to relax and simply let Spencer be a munch🤭

Regardless if you do the request or not, you are an amazing writer and all your works SLAY! Thank you for writing for us!🫶🏾

thank you for the request lovely🤍

Song: girls need love - Summer walker warnings: cunnilingus, semi-public

“…submission, domination, arched back, deep stroke…”

You had never been this stressed before. You could sense the weight of deadlines pressing down on you, the tension mounting with each passing moment, especially when you started to feel that dull ache behind your eyes. You winced at the pain, instinctively reaching up to rub at your temples.

"Hey," a worried voice called beside you. "You okay?"

The concerned voice cut through the haze of your stressed thoughts, and you turned to see Spencer—your coworker, friend, and teammate—walking up to you. Although outside the confines of the office, he was more than just a professional ally. He was your sweet, caring boyfriend who always had a way of observing you even when you both were busy with your assignments.

A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you met his concerned gaze. "Hi," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of fatigue. "Just a bit of a headache."

His expression remained skeptical, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. "You sure? You don't look so good."

"It's just work stress, you know how it is." Then your eyes settled on the documents stacked on your desk. "Why is it more stressful doing all these paperworks than actually catching the bad guys?"

He studied you for a moment. As your boyfriend, he had a keen awareness of the subtle shifts in your mood, even amidst the chaos of work. "Let me guess," he said with a frown. "You've been at it for hours."

A sheepish smile played on your lips. "Guilty as charged."

He shook his head disapprovingly but remained silent. The hand on your shoulder pressed your tensed muscle gently and you relaxed into his touch, sighing out a relief. "That... that feels good."

He continued to massage you, his fingers gliding up your shoulder blades. You relished the pressure of his hand on you and you let out another sigh, but this time, it sounded more breathless than you intended to.

You didn't mean to. Maybe it was the way his big hand moved gracefully along your shoulders, kneading into your sore muscles with the right amount of pressure. Maybe it was the way his fingers gently eased out those tough knots twisted on your back, relieving your throbbing headache. Whatever it was, it managed to make you sigh in a satisfaction; a soft, breathless moan slipping out between your parted lips.

It was quiet for a moment between you as the noise hung in the air, your face suddenly going a bright red as you realized how inappropriate it sounded. You shouldn't be making bedroom noises at your workplace with your boyfriend's hands on you, even if the touch was innocent. You quickly shook your head.

"Sorry, I—"

"You know what else would make you feel good?" He suddenly asked. "Make you feel better?"

Your breath hitched as you stared at him, noticing the way he was looking down at you. You knew that look. It was all too familiar. It was the same expression he had whenever you were pressed against him, very much naked, all sweaty and desperate as you begged for him to please you.

"Spence," you pressed, eyes going around the room. Thankfully everyone seemed to be too busy to notice the subtle innuendo. "We're at work."

You felt his thumb gently graze the exposed skin of your neck. "Come on," he muttered, his voice loud enough for you to hear but low enough not to gain attention from others. "You need a break."

Your skin prickled at the weight of his stare. Heat quickly traveled along your body as he assessed you, and you instinctively squeezed your thighs together, feeling that familiar coil between your legs. It was so wrong, and highly inappropriate to even imagine doing something intimate in public, but it was hard to ignore the waves of desire washing over you.

That was how you found yourself nodding your head involuntarily as if you were under a spell.

"Meet me at that unused room down the hallway. Third door to your right," he said, nodding his head toward the secluded area away from the bullpen. "You know where that is, right?"

You silently nodded again and watched as he stepped back, turned on his heel, and disappeared out of the room. Adrenaline rushed into your system as you waited for another five minutes before rising from your seat, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

You casually greeted people as you passed by. You even weaved yourself from a frantic Penelope trying to find her glasses, escaped from Hotch who wanted to know how your report was going, and freed yourself from Rossi who suggested another cookout at his place this weekend.

You quickened your steps when you finally stepped into the hallway, your eyes piercing on a specific door. You looked around to check if the coast was clear before pushing it, taking a hesitant step forward—only for an arm to circle your waist, pulling you inside as you heard the door clicking softly behind you.

"Spence, we shouldn't—"

"Shh," he whispered. "Let me help you relax."

You looked up at him looming over you. In a haze of uncertainty, you found yourself drawn in by the glimmer in his eyes, the reassuring smile on his lips, and the unwavering focus of his gaze. The familiar scent of his soap enveloped you, pulling you closer to him. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, close enough to lose yourself in the depth of his gaze. And then, almost like an instinct, your lips finally met his.

As you tasted him, you felt your worries start to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his hands gripping your waist. He held you in place as he explored your mouth with his tongue, and you melted right in his arms, giving everything he asked for.

A whimper escaped your lips as his kisses descended from your mouth, tracing a path along your jaw until they rested against the delicate skin of your neck.

Your body froze for a while. There was a split-second realization of the risk of being caught, but it was swiftly drowned out by the overwhelming ache of desire coursing through your body. Fingers trembling, you tightened your grip on him, and your heart quickened its pace.

"Come here," he urged you, grabbing you by the hand before placing you at the center of the room. Your senses finally came together as your eyes scanned the place. An empty, unoccupied room with nothing but empty boxes and a worn-out desk shoved against the wall. You focused your attention back to him when you felt his fingers move over your pants, sliding them down your legs along with your panties.

"I can't believe we're doing this," you murmured, your mind turning hazy when you felt the cold air hit your skin. "Did you lock the door?"

A low chuckle escaped him. "Yes," he assured you before pressing his lips on yours again. "Now stop thinking so much."

His hands grabbed onto your waist before he lifted you, placing you on the desk almost forcefully, earning a squeal from you.

"Slow down!" You half whispered, half screamed.

"Can't," he began, fingers gripping your thighs. "I can't leave my girlfriend all stressed out."

The fear of getting caught still weighed on your mind, but with your throbbing pussy dripping in anticipation, the worries diminished faster than they could build. You clutched onto his shoulders when you felt him pushing your legs apart.

“Spread your legs, baby.” His deep, needy voice sent a surge of warmth straight between your thighs. An ache settled in your core, feeling his lips back on your body once again for a moment between words. “Let me taste you.”

Another surge of heat made you tremble from the dark desire in his voice. You finally caved in, following his instructions with an eager whimper. You part your thighs, putting your dripping cunt on display for him as he gently laid you across the desk.

His eyes couldn’t help but rest on the sight before him, taking note of your swollen, aroused lips and how wet you already were. It didn't take long for him to sink on his knees, settling between the warmth between your legs.

The minute his tongue touched you, you were already a whining mess. Your head began to spin, pleasure taking over your body as he teased up and down your slit, dipping inside of your dripping entrance for a moment before returning to tease your swollen, aching clit.

His hands wrapped around your thighs while his tongue continued to explore you. You bucked your hips closer to him, your hands frantically searching for something to anchor yourself before you buried them in his thick hair. When he sucked onto your clit hungrily, you tugged on the strands, receiving a deep, rough yet excited groan from him.

The sensation filled your body until you were whimpering for more. “Please...”

The urgency in your tone mixed with the breathless way you begged him earned a hand between your thighs, positioning a finger at your entrance. Then he slowly pushed his finger, sending your head tilting back with a gasp, legs tightening around him. You exhaled his name, not being able to find the words as he pushed another finger into you, and you tugged on his hair with desperation.

Spencer smiled across your wet skin. He loved the way you reacted to his touch. He loved the taste of you, your juices against his tongue, painting his skin with your pleasure. He loved getting to finally please you. He loved hearing the sinful sound you make, the breathless moans coming out of your lips caused by him.

He loved the way your legs shook around his head, your hips bucking closer towards his mouth as you sought for more. He also loved how tight you held the strands of his hair between your fingers.

He loved it all, making it clear as his tongue sped up, circling your clit even faster as he thrust his two fingers deeper inside your soaked, clenched walls.

“Please,” you cried out. "I-I'm so close."

All he could do was groan against your flesh. With a few more thrusts of his fingers and a few more laps around your clit, you were finally reaching your high, feeling the warmth form between your legs.

Your back arched off the desk while you gripped his hair even tighter. You called out his name, again and again between desperate moans and whimpers, legs tightening around his head as you rode out the bliss until the wave of pleasure washed over you, causing you to grow weak.

But he didn’t pull away, continuing to gather up every drop of your slick essence, overwhelming you further as he curled his fingers deeper inside you. You wailed, moaning him to stop as he kept on pushing your limits.

His touches persisted until the sensations became almost overwhelmingly intense, leaving you far too sensitive for any further stimulation. You were out of breath. Your body felt weak. You also felt a heady mixture of euphoria and exhaustion as you gently pushed him away.

You gasped, slowly breathing in and out as you finally peeked over at him, noticing him standing at his full height as he wiped away the remnants of your orgasm on his mouth.

“Do you feel better now?” He chuckled in a hushed tone, leaning forward to pull into a sitting position. All you could do was grin happily and nod your head.

"Yeah," you admitted with a soft laugh. "Thanks to you."

But as you got off the desk, attempting to stand on weak legs, you stumbled forward, and his hand shot up instinctively to steady you. You let out a groan. "I might not have a migraine anymore but apparently you lost my ability to walk."

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Do you want me to carry you?"

"And create a commotion?" You considered the suggestion with a mock-serious expression. "I think I'll pass."

But as you both came back into the bullpen, your face flushed and his hair sticking out in different directions, it was inevitable that a commotion would take place. Especially when Morgan watched the two of you with clear amusement while Emily wrinkled her nose, assessing you both with judgmental eyes. "This place needs to be sterilized now."

You feigned innocence, rushing back to your desk as heat crept up your face, hoping your unit chief wouldn't hear anything about your reckless rendezvous.

a/n: I don't think I'll be tagging people in these answers unless it's a longer fic like my usual one-shots.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction

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anananass · 5 months

Text

Genshin men reacting to seeing you come out of the shower exposed

warning: really suggestive, actually NSFW leaning but with a touch of love

featuring: Neuvilette, Zhongli, Wriothesley

note: I’m def not feeling some way

Neuvilette

He finally finds some spare time on his hands, so… how else should he enjoy this little bit of free time if not by paying you a small visit? Too many hours have passed since he last got to delight himself with your presence, a time in which despite having his mind occupied with documents, you were at the back of it.

The Iudex knows you must be at your place because he remembers quite well what your plans are for the day, so as to be expected, he wastes no time in getting there as soon as possible.

He learned with time that you like surprises, and often times, his unannounced appearance before your eyes counted as one too. He doesn’t understand why suddenly seeing him makes you so happy, but for some reason, those glimmering eyes you always give him, have his heart pounding with warmth. It’s an odd feeling he’s slowly grasping.

There is one thing to take in consideration, you’re completely unaware of his intention to pay you a surprise visit but… the problem is that you have just finished taking a bath. Of course, you didn’t mention that too him. It’s an ordinary thing to do, so what would be the point of it?

Well, it’s not really a problem. In fact, as soon as you get out of the tub and walk out of the bathroom, the sudden appearance of his rigid frame takes you by surprise. Your eyes widen at his unexpected arrival, yet you don’t worry about being so exposed in front of him. Instead, you feel a surge of excitement course through your veins and you’re almost ready to embrace him in a tight hug.

Neuvillette on the other hand, reacts a lot differently. Despite finding himself to have walked up on you at a rather, inappropriate moment, he mutters an “excuse me.” and pauses shortly after observing the lack of embarrassment accompanied by the enthusiasm in your eyes. It’s soothing to see you so comfortable around him, though, his eyes do linger around your body. He can’t help but look your form up and down, consuming the sight of your gracious body.

His gaze eventually lowers to your breasts, paying close attention to every minute detail of your bare skin. It seems that he can’t resist it, although this isn’t his first time seeing you exposed like that. The weight of his stare is filled with adoration, one that grows with each second spent like that.

He’s so distracted and says nothing, but still manages to offer you a soft smile. That helps you figure that he must feel intrigued because yeah, he almost always behaves like this when you show off a little. It’s both cute and arousing.

“Don’t worry about it. What are you doing here anyway? Weren’t you extremely busy today?” You ask with a broad smile growing on your face which snatches his attention. You can see his expression twisting into a loving one, but before he says anything in response, you wrap your arms around him.

“I have some spare time-“The words leave his mouth right as you are hugging him, and his gentle tone turns a little guttural once he senses the pressure of your body against his. It feels… divine, so divine that there’s a tint of baby pink slowly building across his face, accompanied by a pleased hum. “I wanted to use it to see you.” That sparks an idea inside your head.

“So… does that mean you have plenty of time to spend with me?” You ask, with a yearning look in your eyes.

He notes that and quickly responds with rising desire rushing through his words. “It does.” Is he getting the right message? That you’re suggesting something?

“Then why don’t we go and sit down, hmm?” you lean in closer to place soft kisses along the smooth line of his chiseled chin. “Wouldn’t that be better?” your eyes narrow as to signal your intentions, followed by an innocent smug smile enlarging by the second. Your intentions are to spend some quality time, nothing more for sure.

Your boldness never ceases to surprise him. Neuvillette finds himself in a spot where he can’t do anything but submit to your words. It mesmerizes him how you can say such casual things that hold hidden intentions behind them. He can’t understand how you’re so good at this, there has to be an explanation. You too must hold a power of your own behind those eyes and those motions, and honestly, he’d like to see more of that.

“It would,” he murmurs weakly and allows himself to be led by you.

Zhongli

As soon as you inform him that you are about to take a shower, Zhongli nods approvingly.

“Sure. I do have to go outside to handle some errands, but I should have returned by the time you are done.” he says in a gentle tone that seems normal, but his voice is so sweet that you can’t leave just yet.

“Take all the time you need,” you utter and spend a little longer eyeing the warming smile that begins rising on his radiant face, but there is something off about his expression. It’s as if he is far more pleased than he should be. Like he isn’t going out just to take care of his business, but you brush it off. He’s probably planning to bring you a small trinket, proof of his long-lasting devotion and adoration for you. Just what he usually does whenever he finds the chance to.

You eventually leave to take that shower you desired all day and he’s equally quick to leave on the journey to explore today’s market. He wants to find anything that reminds him remotely of you, that and to finish his errands, of course. They’re still important, though not as important as you.

As such, during his time spent outside, he manages to find something. It’s a rather small gem, petite-sized, but its vibrant colors resemble your eyes so much that he cannot resist but indulge himself in buying it. That is the first of his businesses that he finished, the rest being swiftly taken care of soon after he finds a few more things worth offering to you.

It truly doesn’t take him much to be done with everything, so when he returns to his place he is more than surprised to observe you are still busy with yourself. That’s alright though, it’s not as if time is running out. However, much to his wonder, right when he takes a seat, he hears you sliding the door. Words cannot express just how content he is to hear that.

“I have returned.” his words are calm yet filled with faint eagerness. Despite that, he remains seated because you usually leave your clothes by the entrance so they don’t get soaked.

“Already?” you reply back but shortly after, continue speaking from afar. “How was it?” you’re well aware of what his answer will be but still feel the need to ask. This need kind of puts a halt to you getting dressed, only because you’re certain he really did more than run some errands.

“As usual, though I did something additional.” you can feel that he brought a gift through the softness in his voice. Not the first time and surely not the last.

“Oh? Is that so?” you decide to play it as if you’re clueless, but only because it adds up to your building curiosity. Hell, you’re so intrigued by what he possibly brought that you can’t wait any longer and straight up leave the bathroom to see it with your own eyes. He has seen you naked so many times that at this point, you just don’t mind it.

“Indeed.” Zhongli drones and prepares himself to shower you with affection and recognition because you could be stepping in at any moment, but when his eyes find themselves traversing your bare body, his blood boils with faint intrigue.

The sight of your freshly showered body is something to think of for eternity. You look so stunning that he swears you just keep getting even more gracious and tempting by the day.

“Let me see it!” you urge in a hurry and take a seat right next to him, with an expression of pure curiosity and excitement smeared across your face.

Zhongli chuckles, eyes glinting in adoration and maybe a little bit of amusement. “Gladly, but aren’t you getting cold?” he replies with a tint of worry and wonder in his voice, and maybe a bit of desire as well. He even nudges you with his arm to reinforce his curiousness, but also to feel your freshly sensitive skin.

It’s a bit incredible how he seems so composed but deep inside boils with a growing longing to feel you like that for a little longer.

His question causes you to raise an eyebrow toward his need to ensure you’re not freezing, but in reality, yes, it is getting a little cold for you. Maybe postponing getting clothed wasn’t such a good idea.

“Only a little.” you agree and almost start rubbing your arms for some warmth, but you don’t even get the chance to.

Zhongli rushes to place an arm around you, running it up and down in an attempt to bring a little bit of heat. He firmly pulls you closer to his chest and doesn’t seem to let go any time soon. He knows what he’s doing, and honestly, the suddenness of his gesture makes you feel a bit tingly.

Simultaneously, he senses his appetite growing, but he can’t proceed without a single signal from you. damn, that only makes things worse for him but that’s fine, he’s holding strong.

“Allow me to take care of it.” his words leave in a hoarse yet calming tone, and fingers are lowered to your waist. He makes sure to caress your bare skin with pressed yet soft touches, applying close pressure around every inch of your upper body. There must not be a single place left untouched.

How else can you reply to all these other than by humming in pure bliss? It feels so good to be embraced… and handled like that. The diligence of his motions accompanied by the vibrations of his voice sure makes you feel some way. It has such a big effect that when he accidentally digs his fingers in your flesh, you bury your head in his chest and whimper. You want him to go a little lower, to feel his digits trail your curves. At this point, you just want him to do more, to go ahead and spoil you with an intimate touch, but you aren’t able to voice that wish with how good you’re beginning to feel.

Furthermore, you sense your folds begin to pulse with a sudden need for more and he can tell that just by the way your gaze lifts to lock eyes with him. The twisting of your expression into one of need sends shivers down his spine.

“Could you go a little lower? I feel really cold down there,” you beg at last and he’s quick to comply without any hesitation. Maybe his gifts can wait a little longer.

“Sure. Anything for you.”

Wriothesley

When you tell him you want to take a shower, Wrio’s lips curl into a suggestive smile. He seems to be looking forward to that, though you can’t quite grasp the reasons as to why he’s so intrigued by something so mundane.

“Is that so?” you feel that mysterious chuckle of his surge all the way down your spine and shudder with wonder. “Alright, I’ll go ahead and brew some tea for you to enjoy after.” the Duke offers and leaves while flashing a playful wink that only drives you to question what all these are about.

You don’t even get to say anything to him that poof, he’s already gone. But you know what that wink means, it’s his way of telling you he’s planning something. The tea is just a cover for his true motives that remain uncovered, but as much as you stretch your head to solve this puzzle, you can’t lie to yourself. That mischievous grin got you feeling really hot, so at this point, you just want to finish that shower faster.

Despite that, you end up taking your time with that shower to prepare yourself for his grace, should he really be hinting at something naughty. You layer yourself in his favorite scent in a small attempt to lure him in once you’re next to him. And when you finally finish, you dry yourself and shortly after reach for your clothes. Yet, you hold yourself back for a moment as the thought of his possible reaction to you walking out naked runs inside your head.

Just how would that make him feel? Does he think he’s the only one who can play and tease and all that? Nuh-uh, this game can be played in two.

Thus, you confidently step out of the bathroom, convinced he is already waiting for you by the entrance of the door yet when you can’t seem to find him, you stare around in bewilderment. Your eyes analyze the space around you, ultimately leading you to conclude that he really might be making some tea. That only means you have an advantage, there is no way you won’t use that.

With silent steps, you pace your way to where he holds his tea collection, and there he is, brewing some tea. You can see his back toward you, so obviously you take the opportunity to sneak up on him. As soon as the narrowing gap between you two turns to nothing, you hug him from behind and slowly press yourself against his rigid body.

Wriothesley takes notice of your presence as soon as he feels the touch of your body slowly brushing against his. He shudders a little and lets out a surprised gasp.

You sense his body tense slightly and relax almost immediately, after which a guttural chuckle slips his throat.

“Already done? I was hoping to surprise you.” his murmur comes out with a soft sigh as he remains in that position to finish the job first. After all, he promised you tea and it’s almost done, so spending a little more time to finish it wouldn't be that bad.

“That’s alright. I can wait.” his lack of notice is more than amusing. However, the growing tension causes your chest to tighten in anticipation. You can’t resist but loosen your embrace around him to which Wriothesley reacts immediately by letting out a yearning hum.

“Is that so? Then I promise it won’t take longer than a few more seconds.” He makes the promise as he always does, so you decide to give his ears the blessing of a playful chuckle.

But despite your patience that’s running out by the second, he finishes the preparation sooner than you expected him to. You slowly retract your limbs and wait, but when the Duke swiftly turns his body and looks your way, the sight isn't what he imagined.

Upon seeing you in all your splendor, he freezes in place. Icy eyes spare no time to look at all his favorite spots on your body, paying close attention to the lower under your stomach. The look of surprise is slowly taken away by one of anticipation his eyebrows furrow and a slight smirk evolves from his partly open lips.

At this point, this silence that settles in makes you feel a little flustered. Won’t he say anything at all? You like just how much you’re distracting him but… come on, say something. Don’t just stay like that.

All these thoughts cause a rosy flush to appear on your face, followed by a need to take a sharp breath to loosen yourself.

Wriothesley sees that his silent behavior seems to affect you, but instead of saying anything to lighten the atmosphere, he lets out another chuckle. Cold gaze fixes on your reddened face to draw out any gram of your attention, and once it's done, you feel his digits creep against your hips. It forces you to let out a faint gasp, the result pleasing him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of receiving a gift like this?” He asks as if to tempt you into telling him you just feel like a naughty trickster, one that thinks is in charge for a brief moment. Though, truthfully, your little scene did give his heart a throb, one he can hardly shake off. “I didn’t even finish the tea in time.” His playful tone is making things a lot harder for you, so much so that you find yourself in a tough spot. In the end, you can't really play this game, not with the circumstances that ultimately betrayed you.

Still, you manage to let out a huff that tentatively masks your flustered nature, only tentatively. “You did not but…” you pause, and in a faint attempt to keep your cool, you wrap your hands around his broad shoulders to balance yourself. “I do not need a reason to be comfortable around you.” an honest answer, one that signals just how secure you feel around him while being so exposed.

Wriothesley stares at you in shock, the adoration and affection slowly rooting in his warm eyes. He looks at you for a few seconds and does nothing but pull you closer. His gaze is so deep into yours that you can tell you kind of hit a weak spot by telling him that, which you did anyway. That answer you just gave him… how do you always do this? How do you always end up turning such simple things into reasons for his heart to clench?

A few more seconds pass by and he still can’t seem to cease his prolonged eye contact whose longing tint of love only seems to grow wider. Maybe it's just the fact he can’t find a good comeback that’d melt you, or maybe it's just him falling for you more than usual. Actually, it's a mix of them both.

You just don't grasp the weight of your words, do you? You can't just come to surprise him, be naked, and say this lovey-dovey shit, it’s not fair. These actions do have consequences… you know?? You shouldn't be allowed to just walk away without having to deal with them, but that can be postponed for a little longer.

Speaking of consequences, this whole stunt you just pulled caused a bigger trouble to arise. One you can handle, right? But don’t worry, he has his ways to ensure you are able to bear his means of actions.

“You know your way with words better than I do, don't you?” his grace asks in a hoarse voice as he leans in to press his lips against yours. His digits slowly trail upward to your waist, drawing soft rubs against your skin as he begins working his way. “I didn't know we switched places for a moment.”

#neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette #genshin impact #genshin smut #wrio x reader #wriothesley #wrio smut #wriothesley smut #genshin imagines #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #zhongli #i def don’t play favorites ahahaha #actually i’d like to write part 2 to these scenarios #also for more of them

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