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joelscruff · 1 year

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART THREE

part three!!!! thank you for all the amazing messages and feedback on this fic, it means so much to me. you can catch up on previous parts here, and here’s my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip💕 summary (for this chapter): after your first "lesson" with joel you're already dying to see him again, but he only has a bit of time before work. what better time than to start you on your second one? this one is pure filth lbr rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings (for this chapter): age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, dirty old man joel, corruption (but it’s consensual), praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader’s family are very catholic), fingering, lap-sitting word count: 8.1k ao3

Lying has never felt so good.

You tell your parents later that evening that you're tired, exhausted from the heat and hoping to get a better sleep than you did last night. They've always been privy to early bedtimes; impressed by your obedience to follow the rules they don't assume anything is amiss as you walk upstairs around eight thirty with a fake yawn and a stretch.

The second you're in bed you've got your pajama pants around your ankles and a hand inside your panties, rubbing your clit just like Joel had taught you. You start slow, tender, prodding and tapping the way he'd done and then building into more of a furious pace, firm and steady. You have to bite into your pillow to keep your moans at bay, eyes rolling back as you writhe in your sheets.

"Mr. Miller," you find yourself whispering as you come down from your second orgasm of the day, breathing in and out and trying to calm your body down. All you can see behind your lids is his face, his soft brown eyes, his scratchy beard, his wrinkles...

About ten minutes later you're on round three, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat and legs trembling as you picture his handsome face, that charming smirk, his thick fingers. His voice murmuring in your ear, praising you, calling you his babygirl. You come a third time.

You're going to hell.

You wake up early, so early that the sun has barely risen yet, streetlamps still on outside as you climb out of bed and tiptoe to the window. Your parents are still home, most likely still in bed.

You consider going back to sleep but only for a moment. Your thoughts are too muddled with the idea of seeing Joel again today and getting another lesson that you head straight for the shower, unabashedly looking down at your body as you wash yourself and wondering what he'll think when he finally sees the whole thing. Will he like your breasts? Your soft tummy? You've never thought of yourself as being particularly beautiful but maybe he'll see something you don't. He certainly seems to already.

The dress you'd worn yesterday is still on your bedroom floor; you pick it up after your shower and bring it to your nose, breathing in Joel's heady masculine scent and feeling yourself throb under your towel. God, you're like a crazy person now. Obsessed. You need more.

You find that your nerves are nowhere near as bad as they were yesterday, now that you know Joel actually wants you that way. You dress a little more casually, choosing a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt. You grimace at yourself in the mirror, hating how the shorts seem baggy and unflattering, not tight and perky like your friends back at college. You're beginning to realize that your entire wardrobe has essentially been hand selected by your parents your whole life, something else that needs to change.

The clock says it's almost six in the morning and you know there's no way Joel is awake yet; you'd gotten to his house around ten yesterday and he'd looked like he'd only just woken up maybe fifteen minutes before. Still, you can't just sit around and wait for the sun to come up. You've gotta do something.

You masturbate until seven.

You're pretty sure you've had more orgasms in the past twenty four hours than anyone has ever had in their entire lives. How the fuck have you been missing out on this for so long? Your friends had talked about how good it felt, how annoying it was when a guy couldn't make them come, and you'd just listened and nodded along and pretended you were able to understand - even just a little bit - despite never having had one yourself.

"You're so lucky," your friend Tasha had said to you one morning after she'd come home from a failed one night stand where she'd had to fake it, "I'd rather have never had an orgasm than deal with these stupid boys who have no clue what they're doing, seriously."

You hadn't felt very lucky, only jealous that you were missing out on something every woman seemed to be in on. But now you're no longer on the outside, and better yet it happened with an experienced man, not a stupid boy - you almost want to scream it from the rooftops: Joel Miller made me come.

You hum to yourself as you flip some chocolate chip pancakes, it's the first time you've bothered to make anything for breakfast that isn't cereal or toast since you've been back home. Your parents sit at the table, your father reading the newspaper while your mother makes adjustments to her schedule.

"You're chipper this morning," your father says, ruffling the newspaper and raising an eyebrow, "Anything happen?"

You shrug, shaking your head, "I don't know, just... just feeling good today."

"She's gonna start volunteering at the soup kitchen," your mother informs him with a smile and you try not to wince, "She met with Bethany and Alice yesterday."

"Oh, that's nice," your father goes back to his paper, "It's good to keep busy."

"It is," you say, feeling your cheeks warm a bit as you transfer the pancakes onto a plate, "It really is."

You haven't driven your car much since you've been back but you decide to bring it out of the garage today, deciding that if there's ever been a time to buy some new clothes, today is the day. You head to the mall like a woman on a mission, wasting no time in dashing directly to the lingerie store.

You freeze outside the store, eyes widening when you see the types of things the mannequins are wearing; crotchless panties, leather bras, things with straps and spikes on them. You stare, transfixed, unsure what exactly you're even supposed to buy. You'd been so powered up by your newfound pleasure that you'd completely forgotten that you still don't know anything.

What does Joel like? What would he want to see you wear? You stand there, biting your lip and fidgeting a bit as your eyes trail back and forth between the different lingerie sets. You haven't even gone into the store and you already feel overwhelmed. You can't even picture yourself wearing half of this stuff, even looking at it makes your skin itch.

"Can I help you?" a woman asks, fixing hangers near the front of the store and giving you a smile, "Looking for anything in particular?"

You shake your head and take a step back, "Um, no. No, sorry. Not today." You turn around and walk in the opposite direction with your head down, feeling beyond embarrassed.

Okay, no lingerie. Stick to what you know.

You end up heading to the stores you're more familiar with, although you avoid the more conservative ones; you know you won't find what you're looking for in there. You end up with a few new outfits that still manage to feel casual without being too much outside your comfort zone. Some new shorts that accentuate your curves more, a few tank tops, some dresses. The dresses are similar in length to your old Sunday School dress, but this time they aren't squeezing your chest painfully or threatening to expose your breasts to the world. They're comfy but sexy and you hope Joel will like them.

The thought of Joel sends your brain into that muddled state again, sending pulsations through you as you pay for your new clothes and head back out to your car. You have to practically force yourself not to shove your hand down your shorts in a public parking lot.

On the way back home you decide to turn down Joel's street, just to see if he's up yet. You slow down as you near his house, peering out the passenger side window and squinting against the sun. You practically slam your foot down on the brake when you see him sitting on his step, strumming his guitar again.

He looks up at the squeal of your tires, looking just as disheveled as yesterday with his hair sticking up in all directions and his beard still scruffy and untrimmed. He smiles when he sees your face, instantly sending those familiar butterflies into your belly.

He mouths something to you and you quickly roll the window down, "What?"

"I just said good mornin'." he says with a chuckle, leaning against the wooden banister of his steps and giving you a boyish grin, "Where you comin' from, darlin'?"

"Went shopping," you say with a smile, gesturing to the bags in the backseat, "Got some new clothes."

He raises an eyebrow, assessing the bags and then looking at your face again without replying. You sit there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something else, nervousness suddenly pooling inside you; what if he's just waiting for you to leave?

"Well, I guess I'll-" you begin, but not before Joel interrupts you.

"Wanna come inside and show me?"

Your heart slips to your throat, thrumming wildly as you stare at him. He smiles crookedly, tilting his head in that way you love.

"Y-yeah," you say, voice so squeaky that you have to clear your throat so you don't sound like a lunatic, "Yes please."

You'd thought walking into Joel's house after yesterday wouldn't feel as nerve-wracking or as scary, but somehow it's even worse. As soon as the door closes and he doesn't immediately wrap you in his arms, you feel unsure of what to do. He gives you a small smile as he passes you in the foyer, then crosses the room in a few long strides and goes to dispose of his empty coffee mug in the sink.

"How was your night?" he asks, rinsing it out as he faces away from you.

I made myself come twice, you want to say, and then I came four times this morning. But the atmosphere doesn't feel the same as yesterday; there's no sex buzzing in the air, no flirtatiousness emanating from Joel like last time. Something feels wrong.

"Um, it was fine," you say, biting your lip, "Yours?"

"Same old, same old," he says, drying the mug and putting it back inside its cupboard, "Had a few people over to watch the game."

For some reason it's hard for you to picture other people being in Joel's house; it's almost hard to picture him having friends, which you know should make you feel ashamed. But part of you wants him all to yourself; you don't want to share with anybody else. And another part of you wonders if maybe he had any women in his house last night, which makes your skin feel itchy again.

You watch as he walks into the living room and settles on the couch, putting his feet up and looking at you expectantly. You stand there, not sure what he's waiting for.

"So let's see those-"

"This is weird."

You both stare at each other, his brow furrowing at your interruption. You feel your cheeks go heat up, feeling small and ridiculously young as you stand there with a bag of clothes in each hand. You drop them both to the floor and take a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with him.

"What's weird?" he asks, seeming genuinely confused,

You shrug awkwardly, hesitantly taking a few steps toward the living room, "I don't know," you say quietly, feeling embarrassed, "It just...it feels weird."

He sits up and you allow yourself to look at him, feeling butterflies again when you see the look of concern on his face.

"Are you uncomfortable, sweetheart? ''Cause that's okay, I won't be upset. You can leave." His words are so soft and reassuring, it makes you want to cry.

"I don't wanna leave," you shake your head quickly, "I just... I've never done this before. I don't know what it's supposed to be like."

"What do you mean, babygirl?"

There it is, the name you'd been waiting for him to call you. It's almost a confirmation in your heart that he still feels the same way, isn't regretting what happened yesterday. You take a breath and slowly ease yourself onto the couch beside him, biting your lip.

"You're acting so... normal," you mumble, trying to figure out how to articulate how you're feeling, "Like we didn't... like yesterday didn't even happen."

His face settles into an expression of understanding; he smiles slowly, nods and moves a bit closer to you on the couch. You feel his finger tilt your chin up, urging you to look into his eyes.

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmurs, "I wasn't thinkin'," he leans forward and presses a soft and gentle kiss to your lips, exactly what you'd been expecting when you first walked into the house. You sigh against him, relief flooding you. "That's what you needed, isn't it?" he whispers, "I'm sorry, I didn't wanna assume."

"Assume?" you ask as he pulls away, scrunching your brow in confusion, "I kissed you yesterday, why wouldn't I want to kiss you today?"

He smiles, "I'm tryin' my best to make this easy for you, sweetheart. I only found out yesterday how inexperienced you are," he reaches forward to push a strand of hair behind your ear, "I don't wanna push anything on you that you don't want."

"I want everything," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I want all of it with you, I already decided yesterday."

"Okay, well that's why communication's important," he chuckles, "I shoulda asked you yesterday before you left but I was, uh-" he looks down at your body and back to your face, "A bit distracted."

You feel almost naked underneath his stare. This man has seen you come; it shouldn't make you as self conscious as it does when his eyes rake you up and down, but it still does. He smirks at your shyness, leans back in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

"You're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs, "Thought about you all night."

"Me too," you whisper like it's a secret, "Thought about you while I touched myself."

He groans and pulls back from you, eyes dark, "Don't say that, sweetheart, you'll get me hard."

You bite your lip and fight back a giggle. Part of you wants to ask what would be so bad about that, but you're also dying to show him your new clothes, especially the dresses. And you're not sure you're ready to see his cock yet, to touch it and learn what to do with it; the thought makes you feel more nervous than before.

"Can I show you my new clothes now?" you ask softly, "I bought it all for you."

He smiles and seats himself back against the couch again, nodding, "Of course, sweetheart. Lemme see."

You pick up the bags again and shuffle into the kitchen, out of sight. You hear Joel laugh lightly and you wince; should you have just changed in front of him? Would that have been the more adult thing to do? Probably, but he still hasn't seen you naked yet and you're not sure you want this to be the setting.

You don't bother with any of the more practical outfits - the shorts, the tops. Instead you go right for the dresses, starting with a short pink one with some ruffles on the shoulders. It's not exactly the sexiest thing in the world, but you know if you turned up to church wearing it you'd get an earful from your mother, and that makes it sexy in your eyes.

You walk back into the living room and a wide smile appears on Joel's face, eyeing you up and down.

"Wow," he says softly, eyes bright, "That's pretty."

"You like it?" you ask shyly, twirling a bit, aware of the way it flows up above your thighs.

"Yes, sweetheart, it's beautiful. Like you."

You can't look at him anymore, feeling beyond overwhelmed at the compliment. You quickly shuffle out of the room again to go put on another one, smiling to yourself when he laughs again, gentle and kind. You've never had anyone pay attention to you like this before; it feels so nice.

You change into a yellow one, more simple with some little daisies embroidered along the edges. Joel's eyes soften even more when he sees you.

"Babygirl, you're so gorgeous," he says softly, "You really bought these for me?"

You nod, still shy, "I did."

"Gimme a twirl," he says with a wink, and you laugh and do as he says, loving the feeling of his eyes on you, "Beautiful."

"One more, I saved my favorite for last," you say, spinning around and practically sprinting back into the kitchen, heart pounding. You mean it - the last one is by far the sexiest, the one you know he'll like best. It's the shortest, white and lacy with a deep cut in the front and looks best without a bra, which you quickly discard into one of the bags.

Standing in Joel's kitchen without a bra on makes you shiver, not just from being so exposed but because you feel so sexy. Being in a man's house half naked, knowing he's only a few feet away...who even are you anymore? You smile to yourself as you pull the dress over your head and fix it so your breasts are on display as much as possible. You take a deep breath; it's now or never.

The atmosphere changes the second you enter the living room. It's palpable; one moment you've just been having a silly little fashion show for Joel, the next you're essentially inviting him to stare openly at your breasts, which he does immediately.

"Jesus," he mutters, jaw tensing as you walk toward him and twirl slowly, showing him the back as well, the way the hem of the dress barely covers the tops of your thighs, "Fuck."

You're already wet at the roughness of his words, the reminder that all he wants to do is put his hands on you. With your arousal practically leading you, you slowly find yourself bending over in front of him, feeling as the hem of your dress rides up over your ass, exposing your panties.

"Do you like it?" you whisper.

His hands wrap around your thighs like they weigh nothing, pulling you toward him and placing you on his lap. You whimper pitifully when he pushes your legs open with his knee and cups you with his palm, noses your ear.

"You know I do," he murmurs, low and deep.

You watch as he traces the shape of your pussy with his callused fingertips, inhaling your perfume as he does it and pressing a wet kiss to your neck. You buck up into his touch, biting down hard on your lip.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he whispers, circling your clit lightly, "This why you came back, babygirl? Need me to play with your pussy for a little bit?"

You nod, swallowing tightly and whispering back, "Yes, please."

"Well, I have somewhere I need to be in about an hour," he murmurs, and you watch as his hand slips inside the loose stretch of your panties, the feeling of his skin against your pussy making you squirm, "But until then, why don't we try somethin' new? Just to see if you like it?"

"O-okay," you breathe.

You watch as he pulls your panties down your thighs again but keeps them around your knees, almost like he enjoys the sight of them still visible; he probably does. Your eyes stay glued to his hand as he brings it back up and slips two fingers past your puffy lips, rubbing your clit gently.

"Mmmm," you hum in satisfaction, tilting your head back a bit to rest in the crook of his shoulder, "Feels so good."

What he's doing isn't new; it's almost exactly what he did yesterday, except now it's with two of his fingers instead of one. You open your legs a bit wider in his lap, wishing you could see better like yesterday with the mirror.

"You know, when you were bent over like that..." he breathes, fingers rotating a bit faster, "I coulda put my hand on your back, like this," you suddenly feel the firm weight of his hand pushing against your lower back and you shiver, "Coulda bent you over just a little bit more, pulled aside those pretty panties and...."

His fingers suddenly stop their movements and you peer down, confused, "And what?" you whisper.

He slowly thumbs your clit, trailing his two fingers downward to settle lightly on where you're throbbing.

"And stuffed this little hole with my cock," he murmurs, and your mouth pops open as he slowly and carefully slips his index finger inside, just the callused tip. You freeze in his arms, eyes going wide at the sensation of having just a small part of him inside of you, "But that woulda hurt, wouldn't it?" he continues, holding his finger there and continuing to circle your clit with his thumb, "Never had a cock inside there before, right? Never been full."

You shake your head and sit up a bit in his lap, turning to look at him. He's peering at you with a calm expression, mouth upturned into that crooked smile. You bite your lip, meeting his gaze.

"Are you gonna put it in there now?" you whisper, unable to hide the way your voice shakes; in fear or in anticipation, you're not sure.

"No, babygirl," he says quickly, moving the hand that's on your back upward to cup your face tenderly, "Not today."

You feel relief flood through you; in theory you do like the idea of having Joel inside you, even though you have no idea what it would even feel like - or how he would even fit. But it's too soon, you still barely have any idea what you're doing. And he knows that, respects it, which almost makes you want him more.

You lean forward to kiss him, loving the way he thumbs your cheek and pushes his warm tongue inside your mouth. He still tastes like coffee today; it's safe and soothing.

"Know what we're gonna do today?" he asks you quietly once you pull away for breath.

"W-what?" you whisper.

"Well, as I said, we don't have much time," you look down again and become transfixed with the way the tip of his finger prods your hole, moving back and forth just a little bit, "So we're gonna see how many fingers i can fit inside you 'til it's time to go, okay?"

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you at his words, but also a tense feeling of nervousness in the pit of your stomach. He seems to sense it and he brings his hand up again to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Hey, don't be scared, sweetheart. I'll only put in however many will fit," he tells you comfortingly, "How many you think we can get in there?"

"I... I don't know," you feel stupid again, that inexperienced part of you on full display, "Two? Maybe?"

"Okay, we'll try for two," he murmurs, then leans forward to kiss you sweetly, "You don't have to be afraid, babygirl, I won't hurt you."

Somehow, you believe him.

A moment later he's pulling you off his lap and carefully laying you back on the couch. He pulls up your dress a bit more, exposing your pussy to his empty living room again, and dips his fingers back down to rub along your center.

"See how wet you are?" Joel whispers to you, kneeling down next to the couch and kissing your cheek gently, "You're drippin' all over my couch."

"I'm sorry," you whimper, trembling beneath his touch, and he just chuckles.

"It's not a bad thing," he reassures you, "When you get wet like that, it makes things easier for us," he slowly begins to push the tip of his index finger inside your hole and you bite down on your lip in anticipation, "Watch," he murmurs.

You watch as he slowly pushes his finger further inside; you're beyond surprised to discover that not only does it not hurt, but you can barely even really feel it.

"Hurt?" he asks you quietly, stilling at the first knuckle.

"Not at all," you breathe confidently, feeling a smile spread across your face, "Just feels like pressure."

"Good, that's good," he kisses your temple, beard scratching pleasantly against your skin, "I'll give you a little more."

You watch with bated breath as he pushes his digit all the way until it's fully sheathed inside your heat. It still doesn't hurt but the shape of him is palpable. His finger is thick and long inside of you and your breath is already coming out quicker at the fullness.

"There you go," he murmurs, and you turn your head to see him looking at you with dark eyes, "I'm inside you, babygirl."

Your cheeks warm at his words and you bring your hands up to cover your face, feeling overwhelmed. He brings his free hand to one of yours and pulls it away, smiling at you softly.

"Don't hide, sweetheart, you're doin' so good," he says quietly, reassuringly, "Pussy's so tight around me, can feel your heartbeat."

Your eyes widen a bit, "Really?"

He nods and very slowly pulls his finger out, just until only the tip is pressed lightly at your entrance. Then he pushes back in even slower, smiling wider when your brow furrows at the sensation.

"So tight and wet for me," he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, "She was made to have me inside her, babygirl."

You're slowly losing your ability to form words as he plunges his finger in and out at a steady pace; it didn't feel like anything before, but the more he moves, the more he fucks you with it, the better it begins to feel. You feel your jaw going slack, eyes going hazy when he circles your clit again with his thumb and kisses the side of your face.

"You're such a good girl," he whispers, "Lettin' me do this to you."

He teases a second finger at your entrance and you feel yourself freeze up a bit, unsure how it's going to fit alongside his index. You trust him though; despite barely knowing one thing about this man you trust him inherently to take care of you. God, if your parents could see you now, laying on his couch with his index finger stuffed inside of you while he kisses your face and whispers praises in your ear. Not even God can save you now.

"Givin' you another one," he breathes, carefully pushing the callused tip of his middle finger inside you.

It's different this time, there's an odd burning sensation as he pushes your hole open with two fingers. You find yourself crossing your legs unintentionally, making a face.

"It hurts, Mr. Miller," you breathe, shaking your head, "I don't think it's gonna fit."

He stops immediately, stilling both fingers inside of you and leaning forward to nose against your cheek, "I know, baby, it hurts at first but that's just because you've never had anythin' in there. Your pussy has to get used to it."

You nod slowly, eyes searching his; he seems genuine, honest, sincere. You believe him. Your parents always taught you to see the good in people and Joel hasn't given you a reason not to trust him. Plus, all your college friends must have had similar experiences at some point and they all seem to enjoy sex; you have to trust the process.

"Okay," you whisper, "But go slow, please."

It takes a bit of time for you to adjust, all the while Joel presses kisses all along your face, tells you how good you're doing for him, how you're taking it so well. You feel hot and completely overwhelmed, strange whiney sounds slipping past your lips every time he pushes in just a little bit more. He moves his free hand to grip yours, squeezes it reassuringly as he fills you up.

"There," he finally murmurs when both fingers are sheathed inside, leaving you feeling stretched out and more full than you could have even imagined. Your eyes are hooded and bleary, lip jutting out in a pout that he leans forward to kiss, "You did it, babygirl. I'm so proud of you."

It feels so good to hear those words, to hear someone show even the tiniest ounce of appreciation for you, even under the sinful circumstances. You're beginning to realize that despite everything you've achieved in your life you've never actually had someone tell you they're proud of you; it makes tears well in your eyes.

Joel's brow furrows when he sees the tears, lets go of your hand to thumb your cheek again, "Does it still hurt?"

You shake your head quickly, sniffling a little bit, "No, it feels good, just like you said," you take a shaky breath and bite your lip, "Are you actually proud of me?"

His expression softens and he nods, leaning forward to kiss you again, "Yes, sweetheart," he whispers, "You did so good."

You kiss him again, bringing your hand up to tangle in his grey curls. You slip your tongue past his lips and feel the undeniable rumble of a moan in his throat as he kisses you back with fervor, his hand traveling down your face to settle near your mouth, thumbing the corner. When you part he traces your lips with his thumb and slowly starts to fuck you again, making your jaw drop.

"That's it," he whispers, watching your expression with desire-filled eyes, "That's it, baby, you take it. Take those big fingers."

You cry out immediately when he starts rubbing your clit again as he fucks you, completely overwhelming your whole body with a brand new sensation; you're so full, so sensitive and wet, throbbing around his long digits. It's so much and you feel the tears spill over, this time for a completely different reason.

"Shh," he coos, and carefully slips his thumb inside your mouth which you immediately suckle, eyes closing on their own accord as tears begin to stream down your face, "I've got you," you hear him murmur, "There you go, just suck, babygirl."

You feel the callused tips of his fingers brush against something deep inside you, not hard enough to make you cry out again but enough for you to feel your orgasm begin to build in your tummy. You moan pitifully around his thumb, sucking hard on it as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

Somehow he knows you're almost there, can feel the way you tighten in anticipation around his fingers. He carefully pulls his thumb out of your mouth, smiling when you moan in protest, then brings it down to thumb your pussy open a bit more. You look down at where he's touching, see the way his thick fingers are stuffed inside you, and the sight alone leaves you gasping as you start to come.

"Theeeere she is," he says soothingly, plunging his fingers in and out steadily, a wet slapping sound filling the room as he fucks you through it, "There you go."

You writhe on the couch, obscene sounds spitting past your lips. Your eyes roll back and you feel him kiss you again, shoving his tongue inside and fucking you with it the same way he fucks your pussy with his fingers. You're so full of him, he's everywhere. And you don't want it to stop.

But it has to. You're soon too overstimulated, body twitching with every touch. You feel Joel slide his fingers out of you with one final tap to your clit, still kissing you slow and deep. His hand travels upward underneath your dress and palms your belly, leaving a sticky and wet residue all over your skin. You're still so out of it that you barely register him reaching up to squeeze your bare breast, thumbing your nipple and covering it with your juices.

"Mr. Miller," you breathe when he finally pulls his mouth away, "Felt so good, Mr. Miller."

Your words make him laugh; he grins at you and squeezes your breast again under your dress, pinches your nipple slightly between his fingers. You freeze up, mouth popping open again.

"Relax, baby," he slowly reaches for the hem of your dress and pulls it up, exposing your naked body to him, "We're done for the day, just wanna see you."

You don't protest, watching his face as he pulls your dress all the way up to your chest, eyes trailing up and down your body at your hips, your belly, your breasts. He hums to himself, reaches down again to toy with your left nipple and smiles when you tremble.

"You're so pretty, darlin', just beggin' to be played with" he murmurs, clicking his teeth, "Shame I can't stay longer."

"Where are you going?" you ask quietly, "Maybe I can come."

He smiles at that, then pulls his hand away to bring your dress back down again, settling it over your thighs once more. He picks up your legs and sits down on the couch, pulling you toward him so you're half-seated in his lap, legs bent over his thighs.

"As tempting as that is, I gotta go to work," he tells you softly, stroking the bare skin of your thigh with his thumb.

"Where do you work?"

"I'm a contractor so pretty much everywhere," he smiles at you, "But you wouldn't have much to do, babygirl. Just watchin' me measure things and order my crew around."

You nod, "Can I see you tonight?"

He laughs breathily, pulls you further up into his lap and wraps his arms around you, "You're insatiable, aren't you?"

"For you, yeah."

He laughs again and you're suddenly very aware of the hard length of his cock against your ass, straining against his jeans. Your lips part and you look down, opening your legs a bit and peering at the long shape of him beneath the denim.

"You're hard," you whisper, brows scrunching together, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, angel. It's impossible not to get hard after doin' all that to you," he says with a chuckle, noticing that your cheeks go hot with the pet name, "Oh, you like that name too, don't you? Angel?"

You nod, feeling slightly embarrassed, but he just leans forward and kisses you again, holding you to him.

"Babygirl and angel, I'll keep those in mind," he murmurs against your lips, "For next time."

"And when is next time?" you pull back and bite your lip, looking at him with a pitifully wanton expression, "You didn't answer my question about tonight."

He rests his forehead against yours with a smile, "I'll be takin' my crew out for drinks tonight. And we'll be pretty busy over the next few days, so I'm not sure when I'll get to see you next."

You frown, disappointment flooding you. He notices your reaction and his brow furrows as he brings his hands up to cradle your face and peer down into your eyes. You lean up and kiss him again, twisting slightly in his lap so your legs settle on either side of him, melding yourself against him. His cock twitches against your ass, throbbing lightly, and you can't help but smile against his lips.

"Why don't I give you my phone number?" he groans, pulling back from the kiss to look at you with darkened eyes, "So you can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures."

Your brow furrows, "Pictures?"

He thumbs your thighs and smirks, "Yeah, babygirl. Pictures."

"Of what?"

He shakes his head and laughs to himself, "Nevermind, angel."

You preen at the name again but frown when he carefully pulls you from his lap and seats you back onto the couch, standing up and adjusting his length in his jeans. Your eyes stay glued to it immediately, lips parting unconsciously at the size; is it the jeans making it seem so big or is it really that huge?

"Can I...?" you trail off, and he doesn't have to be a rocket scientist to understand what you're talking about. He follows your gaze and smiles, nods.

"You wanna see my cock, pretty girl?"

You nod quickly, pushing your legs together as he immediately reaches for his belt. It jangles in the quiet room, slapping against the floor when he drops it. You watch as he unbuttons his jeans and brings the zipper down, then pulls his cock free from the confines of his underwear and puts it on display.

You feel your jaw go slack, eyes widening at the sheer length and size of it. It's somehow even bigger than it looked in his jeans, large and thick and rock hard. The tip is wide and dark, dripping in a similar fashion to the way your pussy does, and you can't help but notice the veins lining the entire length of him, accentuating its size. This is your very first time seeing one that wasn't in a health textbook, and the vast difference between what you'd thought it would look like versus what it actually looks like is staggering.

"Th-that's big," your voice is barely a whisper, squeaky and surprised, "It's so big."

He carefully brings his hand down to hold it in his fist lightly, pulling it up a bit to give you a better view. "Big 'cause of you," he says softly, "It's all for you, angel."

You feel the tips of your ears get hot, still staring with wide eyes at where he's completely exposed. You can see the hint of his balls still hidden inside his underwear and for some insatiable reason that you can't even explain, you feel yourself begin to salivate.

"How's it gonna fit?" you breathe, brows scrunching together as you shake your head, "Mr. Miller, that's not gonna fit inside me."

He just smiles, reaches down and thumbs the wet head lightly, "We'll make it fit, babygirl."

You leave Joel's house with the image of his cock still imprinted at the front of your mind. He hadn't asked you to touch it, hadn't expected anything at all, just let you look at it for a few moments before telling you he had to take care of it in the shower or he'd go crazy. He'd tucked himself back into his jeans and given you one last kiss, written down his phone number on a piece of paper and then headed upstairs to shower. You'd changed back into your regular clothes quickly and left the house a few moments later.

Now you're driving aimlessly back home, weaving up and down different suburban streets while you think about the sheer size of him, the thickness, the veins. We'll make it fit, he'd said; the thought gives you goosebumps.

You can't put off going home forever; you finally pull into your driveway and hop out with your shopping bags. You'd shoved the white dress to the bottom after changing out of it, you just hope your mom doesn't ask to see what you bought.

"Hey there," your mother says as soon as you walk in the door, standing in the foyer almost like she's been waiting for you to come home; speak of the devil.

"Hi," you say quickly, "I went shopping, I'm just gonna put these up in my room."

She puts her hand up, "Not yet. I need to talk to you."

You feel unease in the pit of your stomach as you slowly place the bags on the floor, looking at her expectantly. Her expression is hard to read; her lips are set in a firm line, eyes assessing you up and down. You're not sure what's going through her mind.

"I was just talking to Joyce on the phone," she says, crossing her arms, "You remember Joyce?"

You nod slowly; Joyce is one of your mother's neighborhood gossip friends, the ones who keep abreast of everything going on in your little suburban neighborhood, who's fighting, who's getting divorced, who's kids are getting into trouble, etc. You feel a lump growing in your throat the longer you stand there waiting for her to speak. It's like you already know what she's about to say.

"She says your car was parked in Joel Miller's driveway," she raises an eyebrow at you, looking stern, "Is that true?"

You swallow around the lump and awkwardly shrug, "Um, yeah, I guess."

Her brow furrows, "You guess? Either you were parked there or not, which is it?"

Your face suddenly feels hot and uncomfortable as you shift your weight from leg to leg, trying to figure out what to say. Stupid. How could you have been so stupid as to park your fucking car in his driveway, knowing the way the ladies in this neighborhood talk?

"I was," you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, "I just stopped by for a bit to say hi."

"To say... hi?" your mother is still staring at you with a stern expression, eyebrows narrowing more and more the longer you both stand there, "Why would you stop by Joel Miller's to say hi?"

You shrug, "I was just being neighborly. He's new, I thought I should properly introduce myself, like you taught me."

Her brows unfurrow a bit at that, expression softening. There we go, hit her with the life lessons, that'll get her off your back.

"Honey, that's very nice of you, but I don't want you going back there, understand?"

Now it's time for your brow to furrow, looking at her with a confused expression, "Why?"

She backs down a bit at that, seemingly uncomfortable by the question. She looks down at the bags and gestures to them quickly, "You go ahead and bring those upstairs, I'm heading out to run some more errands."

"Mom," you say, trying to keep your voice soft despite the frustration you feel, "Why don't you want me going back to Mr. Miller's?"

She sighs then, bites her lip and darts her eyes around the room quickly, almost like she's looking for your father who you both know is at work. She takes a step toward you and grabs your hand, pulling you into the living room.

"Is this about what you were talking about at dinner the other night?" you ask, "When you said he was rude to you?"

She exhales deeply again and turns to you, scratching her neck awkwardly, "Listen, your father doesn't like me talking about people like this so please don't tell him I said anything."

Oh, interesting. You nod quickly, excited to hear whatever deep secret is about to be revealed, what Joel could have possibly done to offend your mother who's notoriously offended by everything, "I won't, Mom. Promise."

She takes another breath and twists her mouth into a frown, "He's... well.... honey, he's an Atheist."

You stare at her for a few seconds, waiting for her to drop the bomb. It takes you a moment to realize that Joel being an Atheist is in fact The Bomb in question, and you quickly have to pretend to be shocked, widening your eyes and raising your eyebrows in faux surprise.

"Oh, that's too bad," you say, nodding slowly, "What did he say to you?"

She shakes her head, frowning even more, "Well, I invited him over to have dinner with us after church, told him we'd love to see him at the service and then have him in our home, and what did he say in response?" she makes a sneering expression, imitating his deep southern drawl, "Sorry, lady, I'm not into all that religious s-h-i-t,", she spells it out like you're five years old, "Can you believe that? The absolute nerve!"

You can tell she's getting heated again just thinking about it and you know that laughing certainly won't help the situation. But that's all you want to do: laugh. Because picturing the way your mother's face must have looked when Joel said that to her is enough to make you want to burst. Of course he would have said that in response. Of course he would have turned down that offer immediately; it sounds like a nightmare.

You wonder if his answer would have been different had he known about you then, if you'd already been back from college. He probably would have seen you around the neighborhood and known you were the daughter of the woman asking him to come to dinner. Would he have come? Would he have even showed up to church just to get his hands on you? The thought makes you shiver.

"I think..." you bite your lip, trying to think of how to word it without sounding ridiculously obvious that he had his fingers inside you less than twenty minutes ago, "I think maybe he just had a bad day. Because I actually just loaned him my bible and he seemed really interested in it."

Your mom stares at you, disbelief flooding her face. Oh shit, maybe that was too crazy of a lie.

"N-not my bible, my hymn book," you clarify, shaking your head, "There I go, mush mouth. I meant my hymn book."

Her mouth slowly turns upwards from her frown, peering at you thoughtfully, "...Really?"

You nod, "Yes! I told him I liked the way he played and that it would be nice if he learned some hymns, maybe, um, maybe even teach me how to play them," God, you hope this is coming out naturally, "He said he'd love to."

Your mother slowly seats herself on the couch, lost in thought, "Huh," she states, staring at the wall, "That's...weird."

You shake your head quickly, "I don't think it's too weird, I think maybe we just need to go about it a different way. Maybe asking him to come to church was too much, he needs us to guide him more gently than that."

She nods slowly and you can't believe she's actually believing the lies coming out of your mouth, flowing surprisingly easily the more you talk. You know you're just doing damage control but you're slowly realizing that this is actually a great cover, a way to see Joel without having to hide from the neighbors or be sneaky around your parents. Guitar lessons. He could be your guitar teacher.

"And I think I'd be good at guitar," you continue, "I know a lot of guitar music is bad but Mr. Miller could teach me some hymns and I could even play them at church."

Her eyes light up at that, a look of positive realization appearing on her face, "That would be lovely," she says thoughtfully, "Who came up with this idea?"

"Me, of course," you say, giving her your signature fake laugh that you've perfected over the years of pretending to be someone you're not. You realize there's one more thing you can say to really bring it home, and you almost feel the fire burning at your heels when you say it: "I felt like... I really felt like God was speaking through me, Mom."

Your mother claps her hands together and stands up again, tears suddenly shining in her eyes, "Oh, honey, that's so wonderful," she walks toward you and wraps her arms around you tightly, a rare example of intimacy, "Do you need us to buy you a guitar?"

You shake your head as she pulls back from the hug, "No, that's okay, Mr. Miller's gonna let me use his."

She clasps her hands together again smiles fondly at you, "Excellent."

You still feel that uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach as you walk upstairs with your bags, but this time you know it's because of what you've just done. Sure, you've lied to your parents before, but never like this. Never.

As soon as your bedroom door is closed you fling the bags across the floor and flop onto your bed, pulling out your phone and the piece of paper with Joel's number on it. You add him as a contact and open a new message:

just told my mom you're my guitar teacher.

You send it and spin around to shove your face against your pillow, not sure if you want to squeal out of joy or scream out of dread. You settle for a long droning noise that sounds muffled and distorted.

Your phone buzzes only a moment later and you quickly sit up again, grabbing it and opening Joel's response:

insatiable.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*#fic: feelings on fire

2K notes · View notes

thecoochiefairy · 26 days

Text

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞

━━ 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑝ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑦 .ᐟ getou + gojo.

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

song to play while listening; 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 ; 𝑑𝑜𝑗𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Father Satoru?” She raises an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it working?” She then asks.

“Nah,” Suguru responds.

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

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

“Says the unorthodox Priest and his vexing Deacon.”

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

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

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

“Where do you work?” Satoru asks.

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

“Alright.”

“I’m aware of what it is.”

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

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

“But—“

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

“I never agreed—“

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

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

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

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

“What?” She asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Groupies?” Suguru repeats.

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

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

Satoru raises his eyebrows, “Someone sounds jealous.”

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

“How are you today?” She asks him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing,” Suguru says.

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

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

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

But his eyes still lingered on her.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

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

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

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

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

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

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

She frowns, “You aren’t gonna….?”

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

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

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

“Whatever,” he smacks his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very informative, huh?” Suguru questions.

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

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

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

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

“I…I don’t…”

“You d—don’t?” Satoru mocks.

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

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

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

“Nothing to say?” Suguru prods.

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

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

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

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

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

"Go ahead, what's the question?"

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

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

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

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

“Perfect?” Satoru questions.

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

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It has,” she softly agrees. “So—“

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

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

“That’s what you want, right?”

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

“I—“

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

“Yes,” She muttered softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want more,” she mewls, “Please.”

“Give her what she wants,” Satoru commands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

“You, Suguru.” She whimpers.

“Fuck her, Satoru.” Suguru easily denies.

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

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

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

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

“She’ll love it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck her harder,” Suguru counters.

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

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

“She better fuckin’ not,” Suguru threatens.

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

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

“I know,” he agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop it…” she panted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m gonna….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I might believe you.”

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

“‘Cause we’re not done with you yet.”

289 notes · View notes

yuri-alexseygaybitch · 8 months

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Best (dumbest) Dragon Age lore roundup:

- the name of the setting literally just being "The DA Setting"

- the setting just being a hemisphere flipped version of Europe c. 15th century, down to having fantasy versions of England, France, Spain, the HRE, the Byzantine Empire, and the Ottoman Empire roughly in the same place as real life just flipped over an x axis

- girlboss Jesus/Prophet Muhammed

- girlboss Catholic Church

- girlboss Pope, who can actually be one of your party members by the end of the third game

- the Mage/Templar system aka Harry Potter and the Stanford Prison Experiment

- Broodmothers (sorry BioWare you can't retcon them away as much as you want to)

- the elven pantheon were actually just super-powered slaveowners and that's why it's the elves' fault they got colonized

- Literally Just France where enforced bisexuality is the current meta for political advancement

- qunari gender roles as a way to explain the existence of trans people

- evil mass murdering Machiavellian lesbians, a trope BioWare loved so much they did it twice

- one of your companions being a bestselling novelist despite the afaik lack of printing presses or mass literacy

#dragon age

531 notes · View notes

mxmmyprentiss · 29 days

Text

she cared (she was just scared)

Summary: You and Emily have known each other since you were fifteen. Back in Rome, she had a hard time fitting in and you were one of her friends, along with John Cooley and Matthew Benton. She was closer friends to you first but she and Matthew spent more time together months before he died. When Matthew passed away, him being a mutual friend of yours, it somehow felt that your connection with her died too. Genre: Angst (with happy ending) Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader Warnings: mentions of abortion, homophobia, catholic/religious guilt, implied suicide of minor character Word count: 7.4K

A/N:

This is basically inspired by Criminal Minds S4E17 Demonology and Kat Victoria's song called "Scared". Sorry for any and all grammar, spelling and other writing mistakes. I've been dealing with writer's block recently and I finished this fic just to keep my gears going. I'm not really satisfied how this fic turned out but I hope it's okay enough to read lol.

All likes, comments and reblogs are welcome. Thank you :)

AO3

You and Emily have known each other since you were fifteen. Back in Rome, she had a hard time fitting in and you were one of her friends, along with John Cooley and Matthew Benton. She was closer friends to you first but she and Matthew spent more time together months before he died. When Matthew passed away, him being a mutual friend of yours, it somehow felt that your connection with her died too.

You haven’t seen Emily since Matthew’s funeral. You saw her sitting in the last row during the funeral mass. You tried to find her after but she was already gone. You and John stayed a bit longer when everyone had gone home, reminiscing about your friend who had gone too soon.

Since that day, it wasn’t just Matthew who left you. Your friends drifted away one by one. First came Emily. Then, eventually, John became too busy to hangout. Matthew took a part of you and your friends with him.

So you learned to be on your own.

Your friends didn’t keep in touch with you and you are with them. But you wish they had. It was a short-lived friendship but it was the best year you ever had.

It was a month later that you found out through one of your teachers that Emily and her mother flew back to America. She didn’t say goodbye; not to you or John. But the next day, you found an envelope with a picture of you, Matthew, Emily and John posing just outside of the church during the first fall of snow. It was taken five months before Matthew passed. There wasn’t a note or anything at the back of the photograph but it’s safe to say it was from Emily. It was her camera that you used.

It was during the first year of college that you saw Emily again. She looked different now. She had thick eyeliner, black lipstick and a leather choker on her neck. Her dark hair was all over the place and you’re absolutely sure, her fashion choices would send her mother into a coma (if she wasn’t already in one yet). Emily looked different but you’re sure it was her.

Your eyes met for a brief moment until she looked away and asked two muscular men behind her to help her carry her suitcases. You looked the other way too.

You finally reached the women’s dormitory after being lost on campus for fifteen minutes. It wasn’t that far from the university apparently. You just sucked at following people’s directions.

Once everything was settled at the lobby, you hiked to your room. Just your luck, the elevator was under maintenance and you had to drag two suitcases and a duffle bag all the way to the third floor using the stairs.

When you reached the third floor - second room to the left, you kept mumbling to yourself - the door was already open. Your roommate probably already beat you there. You just hope she would be friendly and not hoard all the living room space.

You stopped at the door upon seeing a familiar figure. Emily was already setting up her desk in the first room. Her suitcases were open in her bed. She must have sensed you standing at the door. Emily glanced at you. She didn’t smile so you didn’t either.

“Do you need help?” Emily asked. “I hope you don’t mind that I already took this room. I don’t like the sunrise.”

“It’s fine.” You replied, lifting your bags to your room. You started unpacking your things.

Both of your doors remained open. There was unsettling silence in the air as the two of you finished unpacking. You didn’t know why. You two were friends - good old friends - and you should be catching up after not seeing each other for a long time. Instead there’s this.

You wanted to ask Emily a lot of things. You wanted to start at her interesting goth phase; although no amount of make up could mask her big brown eyes. You also wanted to ask her how she’d been; tell her you tried to write to her but you didn’t know where to send it, so the letters piled up and hidden in the pockets of your suitcase.

You felt a poke on your shoulder. “Do you mind if I put up a curtain?” Emily pointed at the big window in the middle of the living room. “My migraine can get bad if there’s too much light.”

“Go ahead. It’s fine.”

“Can you help me?”

“Sure.”

You stepped on the table to reach for the rod. Emily’s hand landed on your leg, supporting you. You put up the curtain. The room went dim but definitely much better for the eyes now. Emily guided you down.

“Thanks, Y/N.” Emily smiled.

“Emily,” You called her. You leaned against her doorframe. She glanced at you. “H-how have you been?”

Emily sat on her bed and continued folding her clothes. When she didn’t speak for two minutes, you gave up on waiting for her reply. You were about to leave when she spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” Emily blurted out. “For not saying goodbye in Rome.”

“It’s alright,” You lied. Of course, it wasn’t alright. She was your friend and she left you. “Your mom travels a lot so…”

Your eyes met Emily’s. She was always hard to read and until now, it’s true.

“It wasn’t just that.” Emily sighed, running her hands through her hair but caught up in the knots. You suppressed your chuckle with a bite of your lower lip. “When Matthew died, I was all over the place. He was my friend and I had a hard time accepting he was gone.”

“So did I.” You mumbled. “And I was your friend too.”

“I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything. You sat on your bed and continued unpacking. And as you do so, the silence lingered in the air again.

—

Surprisingly, Emily’s goth phase in college only lasted the day she moved in your dorm. You bet yourself it would last longer but the next day happened. You saw the ambassador’s car in the parking lot and recognized the two armed men in black waiting outside your dorm room; the same ones that helped Emily with her baggage when she moved in. It was Emily’s mother. You never met her in person before but Emily had one family picture of her in her wallet during her stay in Rome.

One of the bodyguards requested that you wait in the lobby and you did. They were too intimidating for you to do otherwise.

Emily didn’t speak to you about it but after the surprise visit from her mother, everything changed. She didn’t wear short skirts with fishnets again. Instead, Emily either wore light-colored blouses or plain long sleeves polos and jeans. She no longer wore makeup except for the lip gloss. Not that Emily needed it anyway. She was always beautiful in a way that makes you wonder why God has favorites.

The sullen look on her face was consistent for almost a week. You wanted to ask if she’s okay. Few attempts were made but Emily had walls higher than the Great Wall.

You have known Emily for only a year during your stay in Rome. It wasn’t a long time but at least, she was more open then, more trusting and carefree. You wonder what happened to that girl you used to know.

—

You met Jennifer Jareau in one of your classes. She was kind and bubbly and lets you borrow her notes when you’re late in class. You two clicked so fast and became inseparable. She insisted you call her “JJ” instead of “Jennifer”.

JJ sat next to you in the cafeteria. She laid her tray down; mac and cheese, sliced apples, orange juice and a small bag of Cheetos.

“Do you want to go to a party tonight?” JJ asked, munching on the Cheetos first. “Derek invited me and he said I could bring a plus one.”

“Derek Morgan? You’re friends with him?”

JJ nodded. “We have two classes together.”

“Don’t tell me you’re crushing on the freshman manwhore.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “He’s actually a good guy. Just very flirty.”

“Where’s the party?”

“Palm Paradise. It’s not that far from your dorm.”

“I don’t know where that is. Is it a bar?”

“Yeah, a big one.”

“Oh, I don’t like big scenes.”

“Come on, I’ll be with you the whole time.” JJ tugged your arm, pleading, “Please.”

JJ was looking at you with her best puppy eyes with a matching pout and you couldn’t say no. “Fine. Just stop looking at me like that.”

“God, you’re so easy.” JJ smirked. “I’ll pick you up at 7.”

—

You and JJ arrived at Palm Paradise together. The place was already filled with college students, most of whom were freshmen. The loud music and smell of booze filled the air. You tugged JJ’s arm and pointed at Derek Morgan dancing with a blonde. JJ called for him and immediately ran to greet JJ and then you. Derek introduced his best friend, Penelope. You doubted they’re just best friends though because for the five minutes that you’ve known them, they already flirted at least four times.

You were sitting on the couch with a cold beer in hand. JJ was sitting beside you and gossiping with Penelope.

The floor was crowded with drunk dancing and grinding college students. You got startled when the crowd roared when a girl with a long red wig and thick glasses stood on the table and lifted her shirt up, revealing a crimson bra.

“Damn, she’s hot.” JJ whispered in your ear.

“And drunk.” You chuckled.

When the girl clumsily alighted from the table, her wig and glasses fell. Then, you met her gaze. You know who those eyes belong to. You couldn’t be wrong.

Emily.

“Hey!” Emily stumbled towards you, clearly intoxicated. “You are here too!”

“S-so are you.” You took her arm and guided her to sit on the couch. “You are so drunk.”

“‘m not.” Emily slurred. She tried to stand up but quickly fell back to her seat. She laughed. “It’s spinny.”

“You know her?”

“Yeah, she’s …” You glanced at Emily whose eyes were closed and head was thrown back at the couch. “She’s my roommate.”

Emily reached for your hand, giggling. “You are so pretty! Why do you always frown?”

“I don’t frown.”

JJ took a quick look at you. “You’re frowning now.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, take her side.”

Emily suddenly pulled your hand causing you to trip over and fall on her lap. JJ and Penelope pursed their lips to suppress a grin.

“What are you doing?” You asked Emily who only smiled drunkenly. Despite being roommates, this was the closest you and Emily have been for the past few weeks and you’re suddenly aware of the pounding in your chest. “Do you need to go home?”

Emily shook her head, still with a tipsy smile on her face. She fiddled the collar of your shirt. “Only if you -” She leaned in, bumping your noses together. “- are coming with me.”

“Y/N, I think she’s drunk. You should take her home.” JJ said.

“But -”

“I’ll be okay. I’ll hang out with Penelope.”

“She’ll be safe with me. I won’t leave her, I promise.” Penelope assured you.

“Okay, leave me a message when you guys get home.” You stood up and put Emily’s arm on your shoulder, guiding her as she stood up. “Let’s go, drunkie.”

Dragging an intoxicated Emily home was harder than you thought. She threw up twice on the sidewalk before even getting in the cab. You had to keep supporting her as she walked too because she kept tripping. But the worst part of it all was that Emily was a flirty and touchy drunk. During the short cab ride, Emily couldn’t keep her hands off your neck, running her fingers up and down your collar, and squeezing your bicep. She kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear and the fluttery feeling in your chest was getting out of hand.

When you reached the dorm, Emily was already passed out so you carried her on your back, praying over and over that she won’t throw up on you. The elevator ride was quick but the walk to your room wasn’t. Emily’s head kept sliding on your shoulder and she’s falling so you had to make a few stops.

You laid Emily down on the sofa when you finally arrived at your dorm room. Her bedroom was locked and you contemplated on whether to just leave her passed out in the living room or not.

“Emily,” you whispered, tucking a hair behind her ear. “Emily, do you have your key?” Her only answer was an annoyed groan. You sighed. How many drinks did she actually have?

You carried Emily on your back again and transported her to your bed. You figured that tomorrow would be a hell of a hangover and she would be more comfortable here than the sofa. You tucked her into your bed and you left her a glass of water and ibuprofen on the bedside for when she wakes up.

You settled on the couch tonight.

—

Emily woke up to a throbbing migraine. The sunlight didn’t make it any better.

Sunlight?

Emily scanned the room. There were movie posters hanging on the wall, a stack of books on the desk and a pile of mixtapes neatly arranged on the shelf. This was definitely not her room.

She drank a glass of water and ibuprofen on the bedside table.

Emily breathed out loud when she realized she’s in her dorm and didn’t end up somewhere unsafe. She found you sleeping soundly on the sofa. Emily accidentally hit her knee on a table beside the sofa. The curse that came from her lips jolted you awake.

“Hey, you’re up.” You said groggily, sitting up. “How are you feeling?”

“Like there’s a rammer inside my head and it’s moving on its own.”

You laughed at her creativity. “Yes, well, alcohol does that.”

“I don’t remember most of what happened. Did you bring me home?”

You nodded. “I had to carry you on my back. You passed out.”

Emily grimaced. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” You assured her.

“Did I - did I do something embarrassing last night?”

You smirked. “You bet.”

Emily groaned, head on her hands. “I’m never drinking again.”

“You flashed the entire bar.”

“I did?!”

“You did.” You laughed. “You got up on the table and pulled your shirt up. The red bra looks nice, by the way.”

Emily checked the bra underneath her shirt. “Oh, fuck.” She sighed, disappointed and embarrassed about her actions.

“Everyone was drunk, anyway. They probably won’t remember.”

“You weren’t.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t. And JJ and Penelope.”

“Who?”

“My friends.”

“Oh.” Emily’s face turned red. “I-I’m sorry.”

You took Emily’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Emily. It’s not bad to have fun.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. You haven’t seen her smile in a while.

—

Everything changed between you and Emily since the party. She talked to you more. She smiled more. She no longer avoided your presence despite living in the same apartment. It felt like you were friends again just like before when there were four of you. Except now it’s just two.

Emily was pulling an all-nighter at the living room. She was walking back and forth, reading passages and repeating it back to herself to memorize. You tried not to distract her by tiptoeing quietly to the kitchen to make some midnight snacks.

You made two sandwiches; one for you and one for Emily. You left hers on the center table and she mouthed a thank you and you nodded in return.

You left your bedroom door open just enough so you could peer at Emily. You watched her walk back and forth. The bags under her eyes were visible. She’s been pulling all nighters three times a week for a month now. She's obviously exhausted. Midterms were coming and Emily Prentiss was nothing but an overachiever.

After an hour, Emily finally rested on the sofa. She stretched her legs, placing her feet on the center table. Her breaths were loud and erratic.

“You should take a break. Get some rest.” You told her worriedly.

“I’m okay, Y/N. I only have one more chapter to read.” She replied, eyes closed. “Why are you not sleeping yet?”

Because you weren’t.

“Not yet sleepy. I had coffee.”

“You don’t drink coffee,” she snorted.

There was that fuzzy feeling in your stomach again because Emily remembered. She remembered that you didn’t like coffee. It’s silly to feel pleased about that.

Emily eventually fell asleep on the couch around 3 a.m. You found her textbook snuggled to her chest and she was clutching her notes in her hand. You snatched a blanket from your room and tucked her in.

You were going back to your room to sleep when you heard Emily talking in her sleep. It’s hard to make out what she was saying. It went on for a minute until Emily started frantically shaking her head and the mumbles grew louder. Emily was calling for your name, then Matthew, then John.

“Emily,” You tapped her shoulder. Nothing. “Emily, wake up.” You stroked her face gently as you tapped her leg. “Emily, wake up.”

Emily’s eyes snapped open, face now covered in cold sweat. She looked around, suspicious that whatever it was in her nightmare followed her here.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, Em.” You promised her, squeezing her arm. “Do you need anything?”

Emily took a couple of deep breaths. “Can you … can you stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to sleep with me tonight?” You cleared your throat. “I mean, sleep in my bed with me. Sleep sleep, not sleep sleep.”

If she didn’t just have a bad dream, Emily would have laughed. She only nodded.

You woke up the next morning with your head on Emily’s chest and her arms wrapped around you. Her breaths were synchronized with your own like a lovely duet. Her scent filled your head.

—

Emily sleeping with you in your room had become a routine. Sometimes you slept in hers too but she insisted that your mattress was far more comfortable.

“I thought you hated sunlight.” You murmured one night, your backs facing each other. “But you liked sleeping here.”

“I don’t hate you.” She murmured back.

I don’t hate you.

You wanted to ask Emily what it meant because when it came to her, things were rarely black and white. Did it mean she liked you? Love is the opposite of hate, after all, so did that mean that she loved you? Or is it just something she said without thinking and didn’t mean anything by it at all?

You wanted to ask her but there’s something caught up in your throat and you decided not to.

Emily was the one to fall asleep first. You lied in bed unmoving, staring at the window, crescent moon peeking into view.

You felt Emily’s arm wound around your stomach. She pulled you closer to her, hugging you. You could feel her breathing on your neck. She was still sleeping soundly.

You decided you can worry about this some other time. Because right now, it felt right.

—

“Hey, angel.” JJ was standing outside your door, holding takeouts and a notebook. “I thought I’d drop by and let you borrow my notes. Also I bought you chicken soup.”

“You didn’t have to, JJ.” You smiled and let her in. “Can I get you anything? Water? Juice?”

“No, I’m okay.” JJ placed a hand on your forehead. “You’re still burning up. Have you taken your meds yet?”

“I just did. Waiting for it to kick in.”

JJ was telling you about something funny that happened in Professor Rossi’s class when Emily came in with the biggest smile on her face but it was suddenly gone when she spotted you and JJ sitting on the couch.

“Hi,” JJ waved at her and Emily waved back with an awkward smile. “I just dropped by to bring my notes to Y/N and give her soup.”

“That’s … thoughtful?” Emily raised her eyebrow, confused as to why was your friend telling her that.

“Yeah, she told me she was sick -”

“You’re sick? You said you didn’t have classes.” Emily quickly placed a hand on your forehead then to your neck. “You’re hot.” She glared at you when you wiggled your eyebrows. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got my meds and my soup.” You grinned. “Thanks, Jay.”

“You’re welcome.” JJ stood up. “I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow? Leave me a message, okay?”

“I will.”

JJ hugged you and kissed your cheek. You glanced at Emily, clenching her jaw, one eyebrow raised. “Get better fast.” JJ ruffled your hair before leaving.

When you turned around, Emily was glaring at you, arms crossed. You stared blankly. She didn’t say anything and marched to her bedroom. Before you could ask what’s wrong, she already slammed the door.

Emily didn’t crawl to your bed that night nor did she talk to you the next morning. But she left you cooked meals in the kitchen until you felt better.

—

It was five days later when Emily started speaking with you again. Truthfully, you were getting tired of the quick, sidelong glances she was throwing at you the past few days. You tried to make conversation but she quickly hid in her room every time. She didn’t even ask to sleep in your room when you heard her kicking and crying during another nightmare and you were there to wake her up.

Emily was cooking breakfast in the kitchen and asked if you wanted to have some. You nodded, smiling. You didn’t know what you did wrong but at least she’s not ignoring you anymore.

She prepared a plate for you; pancakes, bacon and hash brown. She poured orange juice on your glass. “Here you go,” she said, sliding the plate towards you. “I couldn’t make the pancakes round so you’re gonna have to forgive me.” You both chuckled.

You and Emily ate in silence. It was so quiet that you could hear her every time she chewed on the pancakes and sipped her coffee.

“Emily?” You finally broke the hush. Emily hummed. “Are you mad at me?”

She glanced at you and huffed. “No. Why would I be?”

You shrugged. “Then, do you like me?”

“Of course,” Emily answered without hesitation. “Of course, I like you. You’re my friend.”

You felt a pang of disappointment. “Not just as a friend, Emily.”

There was no reply.

“Emily?” You tried again.

“Why’d you ask?”

“Just answer me.”

You weren’t angry at her. You just wanted answers. You were tired of thinking and wondering why everything felt different one day like you were friends again, and different the next day like you don’t know each other.

She let out a loud exhale. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You … you're someone I want in my life for a long time. I don’t want to lose you.”

You knitted your brows. “Why would you lose me?”

“I - I don’t know. It’s what always happens to me. I can’t risk having stupid feelings for my best friend, for you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Having feelings for me is stupid?” You asked, obviously offended by Emily’s choice of words.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Do you need to look up synonyms for stupid?”

“Y/N, please -”

“I never should have asked. Let’s just forget this happened.”

“Y/N, that’s not what I mean. You know that.”

“No, I don’t!” You couldn’t control the frustration in your voice anymore. “I don’t understand why you keep pushing and pulling me around. You already did this to me when we were in Rome. When anyone came near me, you drove them away. You called me amore mio for months but got awkward the minute I called you mine. You almost kissed me once when we sneaked out for John’s birthday. You told me then that if I was a boy, I’d be the love of your life. Did you know it was killing me, Emily?” Your voice was already trembling and your lips quivering. You blinked a few times to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. Emily’s eyes remained on you. “It was killing me because I would have loved you so much if you had let me.”

Emily reached out for your hand but you were quick to retract it. You wiped your cheeks of the wet proof of the agonizing pain you were feeling.

“I won’t bother you with my stupid feelings anymore.” You muttered before storming back to your room.

—

The days passed by excruciatingly fast. You only had two weeks to study for your upcoming finals and the lack of sleep every night and the intense headaches weren’t helping your cause.

Your dorm room has been quiet since your fall out with Emily. You did your best to avoid her at all costs. When she’s in the kitchen, you’d stay in the living room until she’s done and when she’s in the living room, you’d sprint to the kitchen. You caught her glancing at you a few times but you quickly averted your eyes each time.

JJ came over to study with you two nights before your finals. She was running on coffee and you on energy drinks. Penelope was supposed to go study with you too but sleep seduced her early.

“Where’s Emily?” JJ asked.

You only shrugged in reply.

“Are you in a lovers' quarrel or something?”

“No, we’re not lovers.”

“Ah, but you guys fought?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it, JJ.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

Aside from being a good people reader, JJ has this crazy instinct. You hate it sometimes.

“Still don’t wanna talk about it.” You said. JJ respected that but you knew she would ask again one of these days.

JJ concentrated on one subject and made an outline to share with you once she’d finished. You did the same on a different subject that you shared. You exchanged notes and bounced different ideas and knowledge with each other. Eventually, the caffeine wore off. JJ drifted off, curled in a fetal position on the floor. You followed her five minutes later.

—

Emily had been spending more time at the library and coffee shop to study. She couldn’t concentrate at the dorm and being in close proximity with you. Every time Emily sees you, the gnawing ache in her chest grows. And no matter how many times she had gone over head about what’s the right thing to say, she couldn’t trust herself to not fuck it up and mess things up even more.

She came home around midnight. She unlocked the door and opened it as quietly as possible, as she was afraid she might wake you. She knew you liked studying in the living room because your room felt small.

Tonight you weren’t alone though. Emily saw a friendly blonde lying on the floor with you. You weren’t cuddling, Emily was somehow relieved of that. But there was a tightness in her chest that she couldn't get rid of. Her jaw clenched at the sight. She’s not mad at you or her. There was a part of her that wanted to come in between the both of you just so there will be space. It was too close and Emily envied that. It wasn’t long ago that she was the one lying beside you. In your bed. With her arms wrapped around you.

Emily missed you.

When Emily lied in bed, she tried to redirect her thoughts on the topics she memorized in hopes of reciting them again but the thought of you occupied her mind. Every toss and turn in her bed, there was you; in Rome, in your bed, in her bed, in the kitchen, in the living room, at the campus.

For the first time in a long time, Emily allowed her mind to travel back to the Catholic international school in Rome where she first met you.

The uniform was ridiculously prude; skirt too long, vest too thick, socks too high. You stood out to Emily on the first day back in class after a week break in November. The pink streaks underneath your hair caught the headmistress’ attention and lectured you in front of the class. She asked you to dye it back to your natural hair color. You argued that your hair can’t affect your studies but the headmistress was firm and asserted that it was a matter of discipline, that if you couldn’t obey authority then you’d grow up to be a badly behaved person and bad people do not go to heaven.

After the first period, Emily saw you in the hallway. You were talking to two boys and judging by their uniforms, Emily guessed they were a year older. You were too busy ranting to the boys and rolling your eyes to notice that you were leaning against Emily’s locker.

“Excuse me. I just need to get to my locker,” she spoke. You glanced at her and apologized. The three of you moved aside and got back to your conversation. After Emily dropped her books to her locker, she spoke again, “It’s not true, you know.”

Your eyes met Emily’s, bringing your conversation to a halt. “What is?” You asked.

“You’re not gonna be a bad person just because you have pink streaks on your hair.” She pursed her lips. “Or that you’re not gonna go to heaven.”

“Exactly!” The taller boy tapped Emily’s shoulder in agreement. “I told you, Y/N.” He turned to Emily. “What’s your name?”

“Emily. Emily Prentiss.”

“John Cooley.” He and Emily shook hands then he pointed to the other boy, “This is Matthew Benton.” Matthew waved his hand. “And you two have been acquainted, I suppose?”

Emily nodded.

“Thanks, Emily.” You uttered. “Do you want to join us for lunch?”

Emily smiled. “I’d love that.”

Emily learned that you’re neighbors with Matthew and John. She didn’t like hanging out with boys but they eventually grew on her and so did you. Due to being raised by her mother, Emily has always been a strict rule follower, no matter how ridiculous the rules are. But Emily found freedom in you, Matthew and John. Emily wasn’t afraid of herself, of being herself.

You were on vacation with your family during the Easter break. John was on a trip with his father. Matthew’s family devoted their time to church and stayed home. She only had Matthew to spend time with during the break.

“Matthew,” Emily gripped his arm. “Matthew, I need your help.”

“What is it?”

“I … there are two things I want to tell you but promise me, you won’t tell anybody else. Not even Y/N or John.”

Matthew looked at her with deep concern in his eyes. “You’re scaring me. What is it?”

“I think I’m in love with her.”

Matthew huffed a laugh. Even without mentioning your name, Matthew knew. It was obvious. “You think?”

“I… I don’t know. Isn’t it wrong to feel this way?”

Matthew sighed. “You know what I think? I think love is only wrong if it’s not true.”

“But … we’re both girls. That’s forbidden.”

“Emily, the world is big. You won’t be confined in that school forever.”

Emily knew that. It probably won’t be long before she has to transfer again. But if she accepted this now, if she accepted this part of herself, everything would change. And although change was the only constant thing in her life, she wasn’t ready for this one yet.

“What’s the second thing?”

“I’m pregnant.” Tears welled up in Emily’s eyes, hands shaking both from the snow and the panic coursing her veins. “I… I don’t want it. I just … I tried because I wanted to know if it was possible that I’d be attracted to a boy but I’m not.” Emily buried her face on her palms. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you, Emily. Nothing.” Matthew hugged her tight, telling her everything’s going to be okay and promised that he will help her.

He accompanied Emily to the church for some advice. The priest told her she wouldn’t be welcomed back to the congregation if she got an abortion.

Matthew had always found reason through his faith in God. His family was devoted Catholics and so was he. But there’s only much faith he can put in God if his own people wouldn’t even at least try to understand his friend. If God’s love is unconditional, shouldn’t it manifest in his church and its people?

Four weeks into the pregnancy, Matthew found an abortion clinic. He held Emily’s hand, promising he would be waiting for her, that everything will be fine.

Everything was fine now but Matthew was gone.

Emily wondered if she told you everything, would you still accept her? Would everything be different? Would you hate her?

—

The semester ended yesterday. You were packing your things to go back home and take a well-deserved break. JJ had already gone home last night and Penelope went home with Derek, leaving you the last to go.

Well, except Emily.

Her bedroom door was open. She wasn’t packed yet and it looked like she wasn’t planning to. She had Chinese takeout boxes laying on her bed. You could hear the movie she was watching but couldn’t make out what language it was. Most probably French. Emily loved watching French movies.

It’s been weeks since you last spoke to each other. You avoided each other long enough for it to be a routine. It felt like you’ve been living with a ghost.

You took a deep breath and softly knocked on the door. Emily looked up to you and paused her eating. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m going home.”

“Oh. Uh, take care.”

“Thanks.” You forced a smile. “When are you leaving?”

“For what?”

“For the semester break.”

“Uh, I have no plans. My mother’s in Ukraine.”

“So you’re staying here?” Emily nodded. “The dorms will close next week though.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

You didn’t know what came on to you when you blurted out, “You can come home with me if you want. My parents just moved to our farmhouse.”

Emily stared at you for a minute, contemplating whether you’re joking or not. “Are you sure?” She asked. She was skeptical knowing what happened the last time you talked.

“I’m still mad,” You reminded her. “But I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I can give you an hour to pack.”

Emily felt the tightness in her chest loosen out of the blue. Now that you’re talking to her again, she can finally breathe. “Okay.”

—

You and Emily arrived at your parents’ house just in time to watch the sunset. The view was magnificent from the driveway.

“It’s beautiful,” Emily breathed, looking up at the heavenly hues of the sky. “Was it always like this?”

“Yes,” you answered. “It’s more beautiful after the rain. Sometimes a rainbow appears.”

Emily’s eyes glistened as the sun set. For a moment, you forgot that you’re not exactly on great terms with her yet.

Your father was the first one to greet you the moment you entered the living room. He ran and lifted you in a tight hug. “I missed you, kid!”

“I missed you too, pa.”

“Who’s this?”

“Pa, this is Emily. She’s my friend.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Your father and Emily shook hands. “The view outside is just gorgeous.”

“Well, I hope the inside won’t disappoint you.”

Emily chuckled. “Your home is lovely, sir.”

“Well, look who it is!” Your mom quickly descended the stairs.

“Ma!” You ran to your mother and she welcomed you in a tight embrace. “I missed you.”

“Always a mama’s girl that one,” your father whispered to Emily and she grinned.

—

It only took ten minutes for your mom to figure it out.

“I know that look.” Your mother told you when you were alone in the kitchen. She was cooking your favorite stew while you were preparing the ingredients for your mother’s cookie recipe.

“What look?”

“The look.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ma.”

“I saw the way you were looking at her through the window. It’s the same look your father and I give each other.”

“You mean cheesy and disgusting?” You smirked. To your surprise, your mother smacked the back of your head. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“Tell her you like her before I smack you again.”

“Stop saying nonsense, Ma. I don’t like her.”

“Keep telling yourself that and you’ll lose your chance.”

“I already told her,” you confessed defeatedly. “She doesn’t like me that way.”

“Are you sure? Or was she just scared?”

You shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. If she doesn't want to be with me, it’s fine.”

“She’s here with you now.”

“It’s different, Ma. She’s got nowhere to go. We’re not together together.”

“Ah, you kids.” She shook her head in disappointment. “Making everything complicated.”

“And it’s not like homophobia has gone extinct, Ma.”

Your mother sighed and pulled you for a hug. “We will love who you love, honey. I don’t fucking care about what the world says.”

You smiled against her chest. “Fucking thanks, Ma.” That earned you another smack. “You said it first!”

—

It’s been seven days at your farmhouse. Your mother and father taught you and Emily all about gardening. You were impressed by their growing orchard on the back of the house. To think that they had just retired from being federal agents four months ago and started this whole thing a month after retirement.

Emily had an easy time adjusting and getting along with your family. Aside from your parents, she also met your parents' orange cat, Denver. Denver didn’t like to cuddle with you but would snuggle with Emily. You didn’t take it personally. Emily was simply a cat person. She used to feed the stray cats outside your school when you were in Rome.

“Emily’s nice.” Your father said abruptly one night when you were on the couch with him and your mother. Emily called it a night and headed to the guest room. She was tired from all the gardening with your parents.

“She is,” your mother agreed.

“Stop it. Both of you.”

“So when did you start dating, honey?”

“Pa, we’re not dating.”

“You’re not?” Your father looked at you unbelievably. Then he turned to your mother. “They’re not?”

“You know kids these days. It’s never simple.”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not sitting right here.”

“Our daughter is hopeless.” Your mother sighed.

—

A knock on the door startled you awake. You opened the door and Emily was standing there with bloodshot eyes. She obviously had another nightmare and from the looks of it, it was worse than what you witnessed before.

“Are you okay?” You ran your hand up and down her arm. “Do you need anything?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Sure,” you replied unhesitatingly.

You took the left side of the bed and Emily on the right. You put a long pillow in between.

“Y/N.” It was weak and soft but you heard her call.

“Yeah?”

Emily swallowed hard. “Can I … can I talk to you about it?”

You turned the night lamp back on and set it to dim light then you turned around to face Emily. She was picking on her nails, a bad habit she had since you’ve known her. You gently stroke her wrist to get her to stop. She did. She intertwined your hands together instead.

“You can tell me anything and everything, Em.” You squeezed her hand. “Even if it didn’t feel like it recently, I’m still your friend.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I had a dream about Matthew.” Emily let out a shaky breath. “He blamed me for what happened to him.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Matthew was a troubled boy.”

“And that’s because he met me.”

“Emily, you can’t think that.”

“But it’s true.” She insisted. “I want to tell you for so long. It’s eating me up.”

“So, tell me. I’m right here. No matter what.”

Her grip on your hand tightened as if pleading you not to run, not to leave.

“I got pregnant in Rome.” Emily confessed, almost in one breath but you caught it. Your hand still hadn’t left hers. “It was with a boy I experimented with so I could forget about the way I felt about you. I wanted to know if I could still be attracted to a boy and I tried. It happened but I felt so bad about it the next day and I never saw him again.”

“Did he force you? Did he do something you’re not comfortable with?” Emily shook her head and you sighed deeply in relief.

“I told Matthew about it during the Easter break. I asked for advice at church and the priest told me that getting abortion was a wrong thing and I won’t be welcome to come back to the congregation. But Matthew … he was angry. He started questioning his beliefs. He said that if God’s love is unconditional, why is it not manifested in the church and its people?”

“And he was right, Emily. Religious people are the most hypocritical of them all.”

“Matthew found an abortion clinic. He stayed with me until the procedure was done. He cared for me and I killed him.” Emily sobbed on the pillow separating you.

“You didn’t kill Matthew, Emily.” You reassured her, stroking her face. “Look at me. You didn’t kill Matthew. He was ill. His family was overly strict and religious. When he started questioning the congregation, his family was embarrassed. They didn’t like Matthew asking questions and having his own opinions. They didn’t listen to him. All that family cared about was worshiping the Lord and guilt tripping everyone else that didn’t align with their so-called beliefs. Matthew was different from them. He was a much better person than both his parents combined.”

“You - you’re not angry?”

You shook your head. “I just wish you had told me back then. I could’ve been there for you. Just like Matthew was.” You removed the pillow in between. You wrapped your arms around Emily and pulled her in, taking her in as close as possible to you. Whatever you felt during your fight had vanished completely. There was just Emily.

Emily, who had a hard time fitting in when she was fifteen.

Emily, who told you you’re not going to hell just because of the pink streak in your hair.

Emily, who became your best friend..

Emily, who you adored wholeheartedly and loved intensely.

Emily. Emily. Emily.

Her name was your lifeline.

“I love you, Y/N.”

It wasn’t said casually nor carelessly. It was anything but those things.

It wasn’t spur of the moment. It was the moment.

It was deliberate, careful. It was a confession, a promise.

Most of all, it was the truth. And the truth was liberating.

“I tried to stop myself from feeling this way but I can’t. I don’t want to fight it anymore. Amore mio, my heart is yours,” Emily took your hand to her chest, where her heart is caged and beating just as fast as yours were. “It’s yours to keep; yours to break; yours to make whatever of it.”

“And mine has always been yours, Emily.”

You can’t really tell since when. Loving Emily was the most natural thing. You couldn’t even remember a day that you didn’t love her since you started loving her. You just do.

Emily was tired of overthinking it. She leaned forward and closed the gap between your lips. Her hands gently cupped your cheeks. Your hand rested on her shoulder.

Emily was kissing you.

She was finally kissing you.

Passionately.

Tenderly.

Slowly.

Desperate I love you’s exchanged between both of your lips.

This couldn’t be wrong, Emily thought. Not when it was the most right Emily ever felt in her life.

#jaye writes #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

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