#a writes

There was plenty of evidence to help you understand how he was feeling. It was in the heaviness of his breath; the stomp of his feet against the floor; the scowl that had frozen his warm smile over; the deep, deep trouble behind his usually calm eyes. It could have been any of that. But truly, what it was, was the dust particles floating through the air, catching in the light that slipped through the garage’s single window. They only flew with each thud of his bare fist against the punching bag, the one that had sat, untouched, for years now. 

When you married him, he had suggested to just throw it away or donate it—no need to have a visual reminder of the violence he was so desperate to leave behind. He had found God, and He had helped him find you. The new Reverend was not interested in letting his sinful, hateful past thread between the fibers of his new life. You, however, had insisted he keep it. Let it take up space. Let it be there, ‘just in case.’ And today, years, later, case there was.

He could feel your presence in the doorway. You knew it, too, that your presence, leaning against the doorway, filled his peripherals with each grunt that escaped him. You didn’t dare speak, though. Not out of fear, but out of respect for him, his emotions, and his commitment to his calling. He wouldn’t share with you. He couldn’t. The sacramental seal was the last thing he would betray. But still, you’d wait for him to say anything. And as the first, slow tear trickled down from his eye, mingling with the sweat that had dripped into the collar he had yet to remove, his mouth finally opened.

“I can’t tell y—”

“I know.”

He finally stopped punching, his head sagging forward against the bag. You stepped into the garage, stopping just in front of him, and erached toward his throat. With sharp, efficient care, you undid the small, brass clasp. The damp, rigid plastic of the Roman collar came away, peeling off his neck like a useless bandage. You let it drop. It made a tacky, pathetic sound hitting the floor.

“Monsignor Wicks, isn’t it?” you ask slowly, your voice quiet before you meet his eyes. “It’s obvious how much he doesn’t want you there.”

Jud sighs, going to go sit on the workbench on the side of the garage. Your wedding ring catches the sunlight as you follow him. 

“Every week, it’s the same shit that he forces me to listen to,” Jud breathes, letting his head fall to his hands. “I am happy to take his confession. It’s my job to help him reconcile with God. It’s my job to be the shepherd. But they expect the shepherd to be a silent, stainless vessel. And they forget that sometimes, the vessel can crack.”

“You’re shaking,” you remark, catching the tremble of his hands. 

“I’m still angry,” he replies, clenching his fists. “And I wouldn’t have to be here if I had just been less hateful in the first place.” 

“The deacon deserved it,” you quickly retort, rolling your eyes. “He sucked. He got what he had coming.” You reach for one of his clenched fists, forcing it open to place your hand in it. He finally lifts his head, meeting your eyes. “You don’t have to be the Reverend, or the shepherd, or the father, right now,” you say quietly. “You can just be Jud, if you want.” Your fingers thread between his. 

The instant those words leave your mouth, his eyes flash. Not quite hope, but certainly bent in that direction by the strength of his tension. “Your husband,” he breathes. “Just Jud.”

You nod, a thin smile on your face. 

Marriage had saved Jud. You two were young when you made your vows, barely 20 years old. Somehow, though, wise enough beyond your years to have married as soulmates. Plenty of time had passed, and still, those vows rang as true as the day they had been spoken before the lord. 

“Your husband,” he breathes once more, before letting his lips crash to yours. “It’s everywhere,” he pants between desperate kisses, leaning over you. “His words. They’re everywhere. In my head. In my mouth. I can taste his hatred. I need to make it stop. It needs to stop.”

He moves with the practiced, coiled speed of a boxer, seizing you. The bench you sat on was forgotten. He maneuvers you against the cold concrete wall, his body caging yours, blocking the humiliating light of the overhead utility strip.

His hands, thick and strong, go to his own clothing first. Once he rips his shirt off, he throws it. The motion is an aggressive rejection of the spiritual uniform, a physical act of defiance against the man who misused the collar's authority.

He doesn’t remove your clothes so much as he simply displaced them, urgently creating skin-to-skin contact. His movements are rough, driven by the frantic need to replace the vile, lingering residue of Wicks's presence with something pure, honest, and real—the reality of his wife, the reality of his marriage.

His lips fall to yours once more, his hands sliding anywhere they can, desperate to anchor himself to his greatest salvation: you. With a ragged gasp, he pulls back, but immediately brings his kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and to your waiting breasts. 

“Is this what you need from me?” you softly pant, your eyes wide with both want and concern. 

“I need to feel you,” he replies. “I’m so mad.” His hands travel between your parted thighs, rubbing at the growing wetness of your pussy, eager to get you ready for him. “I need you,” he hisses again, tongue swirling around your peaking nipple.

“Bed,” you reply. The snap in your tone makes him look up. “It’s cold in here!” you sheepishly reply. He can’t help the whisper of a smile that takes over his lips at that moment. He lifts you against his naked body, leaving the pile of both of your clothes behind as he treks to the bedroom.

He wastes no time when he places you down, spreading yout legs wide open to slide one finger into your waiting heat. A short gasp escapes you, your hands finding his toned chest, sliding down to his rippling abs. 

“Lean down,” you huff as he slides the second finger in. “Let me kiss you.”

He smiles, endeared, as he brings his face closer to yours, his fingers thrusting at an angry pace. Your lips flutter over his neck, tracing the lines of his tattoo and down his throat. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he pants, thumb rolling your clit, now. “I need to be inside you, but I’m so upset. I don’t think I can be nice.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” you’re quick to reply. “And you don’t have to confess anything to me. I want you to feel better. I want to help you feel better.”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me,” he practically whines. “I can’t hold it back.”

“I couldn’t be mad if I tried.”

One final look of assurance is all it takes before Jud is sliding his hands to your hips, his thick, wide cock thrusting into you with the anger and speed of a man truly scorned. 

“He shouldn’t be allowed,” Jud grunts out, though you can barely hear him over your own moans and the slap of his skin against yours. “He shouldn’t be allowed to run a church. He’s so selfish. He’s terrible. He’s—he’s scum.”

It’s hard to focus on Jud’s emotional rant when you’re already close to seeing stars, but you try your best. “Mhm,” you manage to whine out. “He’s a poor excuse for a priest. I’m so sorry—oh my goodness—!”

The cries that you’re unable to contain bring him back to what’s in front of him: his loving, caring wife, who’s inches from a mind-boggling orgasm.

“Don’t even think about him right now, Jud,” you gasp out. “Just focus on this. And yourself. Does it feel good?”

“So good,” he mutters, his eyes relaxing as he hears you. “You feel so good. You’re everything. You’re perfect.” He pulls out slowly, chest heaving, before slamming back into you, hard enough to steal your breath. His eyes lock on yours as he begins to drive himself even harder than before. "You," he gasps out with every thrust. "I need you. This is the truth. This is the only truth."

The rage was now completely subsumed by desire. The roughness wasn't about pain, but about absolute, uncontrolled passion—the kind of messy, glorious, release that only a deeply bonded couple could share. His face was a mask of sweat and agony and intense satisfaction, his back muscles pulling tight with the strain.

You felt the tension coiling impossibly tight inside you. You were seconds away from breaking, propelled by his furious devotion.

“So close,” he groans, his head falling to your neck, hot pants escaping onto your skin. “You’re so good. You feel so good.” His eyes are shut in bliss and concentration as his hips grow impossibly faster, both of you inches from your release. 

Finally, it hits him. The sound that tears from his chest is a deep, ragged groan of pure relief, a primal sound that has nothing to do with collars or churches, and everything to do with being twenty-something, furious, and utterly loved. He trembles as he releases, his fingers rubbing over your clit with intent and devotion.

“Please give it to me,” he begs. “Let me have this from you. I know you can do it, I know you—”

“Jud!” you gasp out, back arching, toes curling. “J-Jud, Jud—yes!” Your orgams crashes over you, and his fingers drag those waves of pleasure through you until your hips are beginning to twitch from the overstimulation. Slowly, he removes his hand, his body lowering onto yours. 

The room is silent for several minutes, the sound of both of your breaths mingling with the descending sunlight that filters through the window. Finally, when your heart rate has slowed enough for your eyes to open, you speak. 

“So we can both agree that I was right about keeping the punching bag, right?”

He snorts at your remark, his eyes fluttering open as he tilts his head slightly to meet your gaze. “You can be right about whatever you want. You’re right about everything, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your voice is quiet once again, your smile small yet warm.

You were eighteen when you moved to New York for college, to give your mother some peace of mind, since your father lived there. 

The thing about Curtis is that he was never really present in your life, but never because he didn’t make an effort, you just grew up in a different state. He would always try to have you a couple of weeks over the summer, but it was when you moved for college that you actually got to build a relationship with him. In your third year, work and uni had gotten too much to handle, so he insisted that you moved in with him, he could cover your utilities and you wouldn’t have to worry about rent. So there you were, about to turn 21, living with your dad. 

You got along well enough, and since you weren’t working anymore, you could spend your free time playing house. You loved cleaning, cooking, baking, taking care of everything and making sure the place looked and felt lived in, instead of looking like a retired marine lived there. The only thing you despised was the dishes, but Curtis was happy to cover that as long as you kept up with the delicious meals he had quickly gotten used to. 

Before Frank, your life was pretty much school and home, it couldn’t get more boring than that. But since the first time you saw him, you knew you could have some fun. 

The first night he came over was without a warning, your dad looked pretty surprised to see him there too. And as soon as he walked through the door, you couldn’t take your eyes off of his rolled up sleeves, and his denim clad thighs, spread and relaxed on the chair. Curtis introduced you, and it seemed that Frank was also surprised to find out that the grown woman offering him a beer was actually his friend’s daughter that he mentioned from time to time. 

That night, you watched them talk over the dinner you had cooked, eyes following Frank’s moves as he took the glass bottle to his lips and brain going blank when he said anything directly to you — compliments to your food, questions about college or even unsolicited life advice. By the end of the night Frank walked out of the door with a job offer from Curtis and a promise to have a better dinner next week, something more elaborate and definitely a dessert. 

By the time Frank and your dad start working together, they made a habit of having dinner together at yours on Fridays. Naturally, every Friday, you were dressing up at least a little bit, into something so subtle that didn’t seem intentional, and cooking the best dinner you could possibly think of, dessert included. 

Suddenly you had something to look forward to every week. You wondered if Frank even noticed, how you watched his moves — when he rolled up his sleeves, when he ran his hand through his hair, when he spread his legs —, wondered if he noticed how short your skirt was, or how you styled your hair differently, or to how you lit up when he complimented your food, or if he even paid attention to the things you said.

You found out he did when he showed up with flowers, tulips, like you had mentioned the week before. 

“Did you know there’s a new flower shop around the corner? Frank said you like tulips, so that’s what we got” your dad said as they walked in with a bouquet each, Curtis’ pink and Frank’s orange. 

“You remembered?” Your voice came out in almost a whisper as you took the flowers from his hand, fingers brushing against each other’s. 

“Just wanted to thank you for the dinners.”

You probably never blushed so hard in your life. He walked with you to the kitchen and watched as you placed them in a vase, then pulled a penny from his pocket and dropped it in the water, giving you a wink. 

“Guy at the shop said they last longer with that” 

The next time Frank proved cared was a couple months later. 

You had been deep in uni work all day, laptop open on the desk as you struggled to get anymore pages out, when you heard a knock at the door. Panic settled in as soon as you realized what had happened. You walked up to the door with tears already forming in your eyes. 

“Hey, kid, your dad’s gonna be late today, said I should come over anyway.” He tried to explain when you opened, but soon realized you were about to cry. “Hey, hey, hey. You alright?”

The tears roll down your face immediately. “I- I’m sorry, Frank. I forgot dinner, I was just busy with school stuff and completely lost track of time.”

Frank froze for a single second before walking in and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, shushing you. “Hey, you’re okay, kid. Don’ worry ‘bout it. I’ll fix something up for us, okay?”

If you weren’t so troubled with school worries and guilt you would’ve freaked out about how close he was holding you and how solid his chest felt against your face. That night Frank made himself comfortable in your kitchen and cooked a quick dinner for both of you as you tidied and cleaned up for bed. 

You came down the stairs freshly showered and in a pyjama set that kept Frank trying not to stare the entire night. He made you settle on the couch with a bowl of pasta and made sure you ate everything.

“Thanks, Frank. I’m sorry I made you cook, I know you were expecting an elaborate dinner like every Friday.”

“Hey, don’ worry ‘bout it, kid. You looked like you needed some help” 

“I looked that bad, huh?” You chuckled, aware of what you usually look like in an academic crisis. “Beer?”

By the time your father gets home you’re curled up on the couch, drinking and probably boring Frank to death with whatever college stories you had. 

“Hey, looks like you two survived without me” he started, shrugging off his jacket by the door. “...Frank,”

“Curt.”

“Why does my daughter have a beer?” Your dad walked over, taking the bottle from your hand as you gave him a shy smile.

Frank turned to you, realizing he never asked how old you were. “You’re not twenty one?” 

“I’ll be next month” 

Curtis rolled his eyes, taking a sip of the bottle he stole from you. 

“Right, think Imma head out. Night, kid. Curt, think we can talk for a second?”

Frank thought he should explain to Curtis what had happened, keep him aware of your mental state, he cared about you. He did apologize for the drinking, too. 

Your 21st was a turning point. Possibly the most embarrassing turning point ever. 

Everyone goes out drinking for their twenty-first birthday, and everyone goes over the top. And so did you. But your dad had never seen you that drunk and by the end of the night you were way too embarrassed to call him, so you went with your second option. 

Fifteen minutes later Frank showed up to the club you were in. 

“Promise you won’t tell my dad?”

“I won’t, kid. Just get in the car, okay?” He helped you into the van, pulled your dress down and took off his flannel to cover you up. “That’s a tiny little dress you got on, huh?”

“Yeah? You like it?” You teased, too drunk for better judgment. 

He scoffed, “Christ sake, kid” and slammed your door before taking his place on the driver's seat. 

“Frank?” you called and he hummed, “why d’you have a black van? That’s creepy. If I was a cop I’d stop you. You just show up to a club in a black van and shove a young girl in. And you look pretty creepy too, long hair, beard, boots and everything” 

“Yeah?” he scoffed again, knowing you’d want to kill yourself for saying this when you sobered up. 

“Yeah. But it’s okay, I don’t really mind it. I like men when they’re a little rugged anyways. Older, too.” You were mumbling your words, eyes closed and head resting against the door. “It’s probably ‘cause I grew up without a dad. It’s not Curtis’ fault either, he’s a great guy, I understand why you keep him close.”

Frank had a smirk on his face, a smile that he tried hard to hold in, but couldn’t. “He sure is. Now let’s get you home so he doesn’t worry, yeah?”

You kept quiet for the rest of the ride, barely awake in his passenger seat. Frank kept glancing at you every couple of minutes, just to make sure you were alright. When you got there, Frank helped you out of the car and into the building, an arm wrapped around your waist for support. 

“Think you need help up the stairs?” he asked and you just nodded. “Alright. C’mon, kid”

His arm swiftly hooked under your knees, the other supporting your back as he quietly made his way up four flights of stairs. “Got your keys?” 

“They’re in my bag” You helped him by unlocking the door, still in his arms and he carried you in.

“Your room the one on the left?” he whispered, trying his best not to make any noise. 

You nodded and opened the door. Frank laid you gently on the bed and reached for your feet, unbuckling the straps of your shoes and slipping them off. 

“Imma get you some water, you have some painkillers for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, right here” you pointed to your nightstand. You were barely awake, but when Frank came back with your glass of water you made sure to thank him. Your hand reached out for his arm and pulled him closer. “Thanks, Frank. You’re a great guy. Thanks for bringing me home, and for not telling my dad. And for carrying me upstairs, didn’t know you were strong like that.” Your hand ran up and down his bare arm, shamelessly feeling his muscles. 

“Just sleep, kid. I’ll see you next Friday, g’night.” 

You woke up the next day way past noon, regretting every single thing you said the night before. So that Friday, when Frank got there, you pulled him into the kitchen with some excuse so you could apologize. 

“You shaved,” you smiled, surprised. 

“Got a haircut too. Had people telling me I looked like a creep” 

“Oh God, look, Frank, I just wanted to apologize for last weekend, really. I don’t even know why I thought of calling you and– God, all that stupid shit that I said, I don’t mean it like that. I– I’m really really sorry, Frank.” 

“Hey, you don’t have to keep apologizing. It’s alright kid” he told you, his voice low so your dad didn’t hear you, but all you could notice was how close he suddenly was. His hand reached out for your arm, caressing your skin, eyes searching yours, then meeting your lips. “It’s okay, kid” 

He went in for a hug, you knew that was all it was, but you couldn’t ignore the way he had looked at your lips; so you looked up, and for half a second you stared into each other’s lips before you closed the gap between them. Frank’s hand immediately met the back of your head, holding you close as your lips moved in sync before he came to his senses. He pulled away and cleared his throat, you were about to apologize again when he stopped you. 

“Don’t worry about it, none of it ever happened, yeah? Le’s– let’s just get back out there, don’t wanna keep your dad waiting.” 

For the rest of the night, you tried your best to look and sound normal. Curtis asked questions, he always did, but he was usually the one doing most of the talking. You kept glancing at Frank, but he never looked back at you, just kept his eyes on his plate and on his friend. 

“Don’t know if I mentioned it, but we won’t be home for dinner next week, ‘cause I have a date” your dad started, earning surprised hums from you and Frank. “Won’t be answering any questions yet, just wanna let you know. No need to cook for three next Friday.”

“Well, good luck, man” 

“But Frank can still come, right? Unless you’re busy, of course” you tried, your heart beating fast and your hands shaking on your lap. “I mean, you’re welcome to come anyway, if you want. I just– I don’t like having dinner alone”

“D’you want me to cancel? I could go another time, I’m sure she won’t mind”

“Dad. It’s fine, you can’t just cancel a date cause your grown daughter doesn’t like being alone. That’s stupid, I’ll be fine” you told him, taking a full bite of food to keep you from talking too much.

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it, Curt. I’ll be here, keep her company.” He told your dad then finally turned to you, hand meeting your shoulder with a light squeeze. “Is that better? Same time as always?”

You nodded, shivering and still chewing while trying not to look too happy, but not being able to hold back the warmth on your face. “Thanks, Frank”

Next Friday came, you cooked Frank’s favourite, at least the thing he complimented the most. You couldn’t help but smile while cooking. You spent all week thinking about the kiss, how his hand covered the back of your head, how he looked at you seconds before. Seven days and seven nights where the only thought in your head was Frank, even when you didn’t want it, especially then. You tried to keep busy, not overthink right before he came over, so you baked some dessert too — the brownies he had also previously complimented. 

“Can you smell that? That’s chocolate, you get dessert. I get dishes and you get dessert!” 

You heard your dad telling Frank as they walked in. “That’s not true! I bake all the time and I always tell you to take some for Frank, you never do” you defended as they walked in. Curtis reached for a brownie from the plate, shoving the entire piece in his mouth. “Dad!”

“Delicious, darlin’” he mumbled, “I’m gonna go freshen up” 

Your dad ran up the stairs, leaving you and Frank in the kitchen. It was instinct by then to open the fridge and get him a drink, usually a beer. You placed the bottle in front of him as he sat on the island stool. He mumbled a small ‘thanks’. 

“It’ll be done in a second”

“Take your time” 

Frank never talked much, so it wasn’t exactly weird to be finishing dinner as he silently drank his beer. Your dad came in minutes later just to say he was leaving, and as soon as you heard his car pull out, you pulled the red wine out of the fridge. 

“Now that he’s gone…”

Frank scoffed, taking his own drink to his lips, “you really think that’s a good idea?” 

“I promise to stop before I’m talking shit,” you told him while pouring yourself a glass, “plus, there’s a big difference between wine drunk and vodka shots drunk, no?” 

“Still learning your limits, huh?” 

“You could say that” 

Dinner was quiet and quick. You talked the most through dessert after he asked where you learned to cook and bake like that. You moved on to the couch after the second brownie. 

You were sitting close, Frank against the corner and you turned to him. He was talking, which was quite unusual, but you couldn’t pay attention to what he was saying. You kept watching his lips, noticing how his tongue poked out a little when he brought the beer bottle to his mouth, how sharp his jaw actually was, now that his beard was gone, you couldn’t stop staring. He noticed it of course, but he was trying hard to ignore it. 

“Frank” you called, voice soft and weak. 

“Yeah?” 

“Please” 

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble, kid” he shook his head, but his hand moved to your face, cupping your jaw. His thumb brushed against your lips, his eyes unable to stop staring. 

“Please” 

With your plea he closed the distance. His lips brushed against yours before closing around them. His hand met the back of your head again while the other pulled you closer by the hips. You felt him lick into your mouth, slowly pressing his tongue against yours. His hands moved, one wrapping around your neck gently, warm on your skin and the other wrapping around your waist completely to pull you on his lap. 

He pulled away slowly when you grinded against his thigh, hand on your neck pushing you softly. “We shouldn’t be doing this, kid” he whispered and you hummed, agreeing without thinking, just chasing his lips back, “this is wrong. Your dad wouldn’t like this”

“My dad loves you”

“He wouldn’t if he knew the things I wanna do to you” he muttered before licking back into your mouth. 

You sighed at his words, desperate to know what he wanted to do to you. Your hands cupped his face, palms feeling the day old stubble. 

“Show me” you whispered against his lips, pressing your nose to his, trying to be as close as possible. 

His hands dropped to your thighs, running up and down, under your dress. His body folded over yours, laying you on the couch as he shifted on top of you. You smiled when his lips brushed yours again, his tongue poking out to lick into them. 

You could feel his crotch press against the back of your thighs, the new position making your dress ride up to your hips and expose you. Frank’s hand moved up to your neck, pushing your chin out of the way as his lips dragged down your jaw. Soon his warm breath and rough stubble were on your neck, his lips working on your skin. 

“Frank” you sighed, hands diving into his short hair. 

He shushed you, pressing his thumb to your lips until you took it in, sucking eagerly. His lips kept kissing your neck and collar bones, slowly making his way to your chest. His free hand dove between your bodies, fingers meeting your panties and pressing against them. You moaned around his thumb as his fingers pressed circles against your cunt, damping your underwear with your own wetness. 

“Can I touch you?” Frank whispered to your skin before pulling away and sitting up. 

You nodded and he pulled his thumb from your mouth. His hands moved to your hips, fingers hooking under the lacy band of your panties before slowly pulling them down. You felt his rough palms against your skin as he dragged them down and so carefully removed them from your feet. 

Frank couldn’t peel his eyes away from what was right in front of him — your wet cunt, bare and so close, inviting him to touch. His fingers reached out, gently pressing past your wet lips and brushing them up and down. You moaned at the feeling, legs closing around his wrist, but his free hand stopped you, pressing down on your thigh, fingers gently digging into your skin. 

He shushed you again, not to keep you quiet, but to calm you down, keep you steady as his fingers pressed into you, one at a time, collecting the wetness inside you and spreading it around your cunt. You tried to move your hips to meet his fingers, but his left hand was still keeping you in place, so effortlessly. 

When his fingers finally pressed in, your back arched. A pretty moan left your lips as Frank felt his way around your insides, his free hand running up your thigh, all the way to your stomach, under your babydoll dress. His left hand pressed there while the right worked your cunt, his fingers inside you while his thumb met your clit. His movements gently rubbed you inside and out, enough to have you letting out sweet little moans that made him lose all his composure. 

“Frank” 

Your call pulled Frank out of his trance, making him finally look away from your cunt to meet your face again. His body moved over yours, bending down to brush his lips against yours. Your tongue chased his, pulling him into a deep kiss again, lips smacking and tongues sliding in perfect harmony. You let your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer and making his fingers press deeper into you. 

His free hand went higher, digging under the top of your dress to grab at your chest. He started curling his fingers, thumb pressing harder on your clit. Your hands dug into his arms, meeting strong and sturdy muscles, you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. 

“Frank– I–” 

“Shh, shh, shh. I got you, sweetheart. Just relax,” he whispered at your neck, sending shivers all over your skin. 

A new wave of pleasure took over your body as his thumb started circling around your clit, the other pressing against your nipple as his fingers buried into the flesh of your chest. You were close, you could feel yourself clenching around his fingers and he probably could too, because his movements suddenly became more intense — fingers pressing perfectly onto the best spot. You could feel it in your bladder, the sharp pleasure about to snap. 

Your moans were unstoppable by the time you came, whiny and choked out as you spasmed around Frank’s fingers. Your nails dug into his biceps and your legs locked him close. 

“Tha’s it. Tha’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered, hand moving away from your chest to hold your face. You took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get a grip before anything else. “You okay, kid?”

“Please don’t call me kid” you sighed.

“No? Thought you liked it.” He was teasing, grinning, teeth brushing against your neck as he spoke. 

“Just– not when your fingers are shoved inside me” 

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind, kid” he said, just as he pulled his fingers out. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle, still lost in your dopamine filled mind. A sigh came from deep in your chest, hands reaching to hold his face too, pulling him closer.  “I’m sorry I, like, punctured you with my nails”

“You know I can take pain” 

“Yeah, I figured”

You smiled against his lips one more time before kissing him. You kissed into his mouth, hard enough to knock the breath out of you almost immediately. His hands traveled up your back, holding you close and moving to pull you back on his lap. Frank didn’t seem to care when he sat up that your wetness would be all over his jeans, a damp spot on the dark blue denim. And all you could care about in that moment was how his cock was pressing against your cunt, practically begging to be let out of his jeans. 

You pressed your hips down, a tentative grind, testing just how far he was willing to go with you that night. You hoped the moan that came out of his lips was his answer, because it made every single hair in your body stand up.

“Christ, sweetheart. You keep going like that, Imma blow in my pants” He groaned, hands dropping to your hips to steady them. 

“That’d be so hot.” Your mouth moved faster than your brain, before you could stop yourself from saying such filth. 

He scoffed, “you’re dirty, huh? Le’s not do that. Lemme take you to y’room. That okay?”

“Please” 

He smirked, hands dropping to your ass to lift you as he stood up. He walked to your room, effortlessly holding you as your lips worked on his neck, kissing and licking at the spiky stubble. You only realized you had reached the bedroom when Frank dropped you on the bed. He looked great from that point of view — standing over you, tall and broad, hair spiked all over, flannel sleeves pushed up —, you just wanted him back on you. 

But Frank took his time, watching you squirm on the bed as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, threw it on you, then reached down to unzip his boots and kick them off. You chuckled and grabbed his shirt, taking in the smell of coffee and cologne, and the feeling of the soft worn fabric. His hands then reached for your legs, running from your calves to your ankles and bringing them to his shoulders before pulling off your socks and placing a gentle kiss, one at a time. 

You just watched, mesmerized by how gentle he was. “Frank” 

“Yeah, sweet girl?” He whispered, hands still caressing the leg propped up on his shoulder. 

“I want your cock, please”

“Fuckin’ – goddammit, kid. Yeah, yeah, I’ll give you whatchu want, yeah?” 

His hands dropped from your leg to his belt, quickly pulling it off and unbuttoning his jeans. Frank dropped himself on the bed, hovering above you, bodies pressing together to have any kind of contact again. Your lips clashed in a needy kiss as your hands ran up his back, under his tshirt, feeling the warm skin on your palms as his hips pressed down against yours. 

“Off, please. Take it off,” you practically begged, pushing the shirt over his head to finally reveal his chest. “Oh, God. Don’t think you’re supposed to be this hot at your age” you teased. 

Frank scoffed, one hand holding your chin up so he could attack your neck while the other dived between your bodies, reaching into his boxers to pull himself out. You moaned when his tip brushed against your hole. He shushed you once more, fingers pressing into your mouth to keep you from being too loud as he started pressing into you. You tried sucking on his fingers, soothe yourself, but a loud gasp left your lips when he bottomed out, finally filling you up completely. The groan that came out of his lips was the best sound you had ever heard, deep and guttural, as if he had been holding back for ages. His hands reached for your wrists and pinned them above your head, pressing them down to the bed just like his body pressed on yours. 

“You okay? Yeah?” he asked and you nodded, even if you had never felt that amount of stretch in your life. “Yeah. Shh, I got you, I got you”

Your head pressed back into the pillows as he started moving, slow and deep, making you feel every inch of him — if his cock was what you wanted, that’s exactly what you were getting. His lips pressed on the side of your face, kissing and licking your jaw as you tried to get used to the feeling of him. 

“Frank,” you moaned, wrapping your legs around his hips to push him deeper. 

“Yeah? You sure?” 

All you could do was nod, brain too foggy for real words by then. His thrusts slowly built up to a faster pace — a pace that was already knocking the breath out of you. The pressure of his cock inside you was peering pain, almost too much to handle, but the last thing you wanted was for Frank to think that you were incapable of taking him, and it just felt too good. 

You could hear his heavy breaths in your ear and sweet whispers of ‘okay?’, ‘you okay?’ and ‘i got you’. His hand left your wrist to grab your hair, fingers diving into your scalp and clawing the hair tightly, making you let out a gasp. Your free hands dropped to his arms, grabbing and squeezing the biceps that you were only able to stare at for so long. 

Frank knelt up between your legs, hands reaching for the sleeves of your dress to pull them down, making the fabric fold under your tits. A single hand moved to your chest, grabbing your tit as the other pulled you closer by the hips, making his cock press deeper into you. You hissed and pressed a hand to his abs, right by his navel, trying to keep him away. 

“ ‘s too much. Sorry” you pouted, brows furrowing together as you powered through the pain. 

“Hey, hey,” he caressed your face with the back of his hand, “‘t’s okay, sweet girl. Just breathe for me, yeah?” The hand dropped from your face, dragging down your body and landing on your stomach, thumb reaching for your clit, gently rubbing up and down. “You wanna turn around for me? So I don’t hurt you?”

You shook your head, hand grabbing his wrist. “No, I can take it. Promise.” 

He scoffed, “you don’t have to. Just let me take care of you” 

Frank pulled out, leaving you gapping before turning you onto your stomach. He settled behind you, between your thighs and you felt the press of his cock on your ass. He guided himself between your ass and brushed the tip of his cock against your cunt just to tease before pressing in. You both moaned at the feeling, the new angle being just enough to fill you to the brim without hurting. His arm wrapped around your neck from behind, bicep flexing right in your face as his nose brushed the side of your neck. 

“That better, sweetheart?” He whispered, right by your ear, scruff brushing against your skin.

You nodded, completely melting away into him as he started to thrust into you. Frank’s body pressed yours down on the bed, his arm tightening around your neck, you could feel his abs pressing against your back every time he thrust forward. His mouth was on your neck, kissing and licking the sensitive skin, driving you insane. 

Just a couple minutes later and you were out of your mind, probably moaning way too loud. But Frank was also too gone to care, you were all he had in his mind — your pretty sounds, your ass, the dip of your back, the sweaty curls sticking to the back of your neck and the tightness around his cock. 

“Fuck,” he sighed, “can’t hold back anymore, sweetheart. Need to fuck you hard.”

That was all the warning you got before Frank started pounding into you, hard enough to make your bedframe bang against the wall. Your hands gripped the arm around your neck, nails digging into his forearm. All the strength he was putting into it had your body grinding down on the bed, your sheets dragging against your clit. Soon you were on the edge, feeling the build low in your stomach, your legs locking in place, your lower half tense. 

“Frank” you whined, just a warning or a plea, you weren’t sure anymore. 

“Shh, shh, baby. Just let go” he whispered onto your neck. 

Your orgasm washed over you seconds later, a loud choked out moan left your throat and your body shook under Frank’s as he fucked you through it. He stopped for half a second to make sure you were okay before continuing to restlessly fuck into you. Soon it all became too much for you, your body going into overdrive as he kept using you. Tears wet your face and the pillow under your head, but you could not bring yourself to ask Frank to stop, it felt too good. 

“Hey, hey. Still with me?” he whispered and you nodded against the pillow. “Yeah? ‘m so close, sweetheart. Just hold on a little more for me”

He let go of your neck, letting you catch your breath as he muttered curses and finally pulled out. Frank pushed your dress up your back, out of his way before wrapping a hand around himself and pumping his cock. You felt the warm cum spill on your back as he grunted, several ropes covering your skin. 

Frank sat back on his heels for a second, watching your back rise and fall with your rapid breathing, and his work painted on your skin. 

“Hey, sweet girl” he called, “you alright?” He crawled over to you, only then seeing the wet tears on your cheeks. “Hey, hey, you hurt?”

You shook your head as his rough hands wiped the tears from your face. “Just a little sensitive. And tired” 

“Yeah?” he smiled, “le’s get you clean and ready for bed, then. Sound good?” You nodded, but didn’t move, just let Frank wipe his cum with his own tshirt then drop it on the floor. “Why don’t you go take a shower while I clean this mess up, huh?” Frank suggested while pulling your dress down, hand giving your ass a light tap. You whined but got up anyway. “Atta girl. ‘ll be right here when you’re done” 

You slowly made your way to the bathroom across the hall, tired feet dragging across the floor. You tried not to look at yourself in the mirror, just pulled your dress off and skipped to the shower. You were as quick as possible, just wanting to be back on your bed. By the time you walked back into your room, Frank was already dressed, sitting on the edge of your bed. You walked over to him and stood between his knees. His hands met your waist, over your towel, lips pressing a gentle kiss to your stomach.  

“Need help?”

You smiled, “you wanna help me get dressed?”

“You said you were tired. Go grab your pajamas” he told you with another tap to your ass. 

Frank watched as you searched in your drawer for a set, then walked back to him. He grabbed the clothes from your hands and placed them on the bed before taking his hands back to you. His eyebrows rose as if to question if he could take your towel away. You nodded and quickly felt his hands on your chest, untucking the towel and pulling it away. You were still too tipsy to care that you were completely bare in front of him. 

“Hold on to my shoulders” he said, holding the shorts out in front of you. 

“I can’t even remember the last time someone dressed me,” you chuckled, holding on to his shoulders to step into the shorts.  

Frank was gentle as he pulled the shorts up your legs and over your hips, letting go of the band slowly so it didn’t snap against your skin. He reached for the top, a flowy babydoll tank, and reached up to pull it over your head, then slowly guided your arms through the straps. 

“Ready for bed? Need anything, water, somethin’ to eat? Another brownie, maybe?” he looked up, resting his chin on your stomach, hands resting casually on your ass. 

“Just water,” you smiled down, hands reaching for his face, “already brushed my teeth” 

“Be right back” he whispered before pushing you away to stand up. 

You climbed onto the neatly made bed as Frank left the room and rearranged all your pillows the way you liked while waiting for him. He walked back in with a glass of water and handed it to you, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Frank” 

“Yeah, sweet girl?” he whispered, hand resting on your leg. 

“Are you leaving now?” 

“No, not yet. Think I’ll wait for your dad to come back.” He reached for the empty glass in your hand, taking it and putting it aside on your nightstand. 

“Can you stay with me for a bit, then?” You asked, shyly, not sure if it was even appropriate. 

“Yeah, kid. I’ll stay ‘til you fall asleep. Tha’ okay?”

By the time your dad came home that night, Frank was on his couch, watching TV and drinking a beer as if nothing had happened. 

“Thought I should stay ‘til you came back. She’s sleeping in her room”

When your friend first introduced you to Oscar you thought it would be a terrible idea to share a place with him, and at first, you were right. You were total opposites — Oscar was messy you were clean; Oscar was quiet, you loved to talk; Oscar was tall and put the dishes in the top shelf, you were short and could never reach them, Oscar liked staying up late, you liked to be up early — there were just so many things you hated about him in that first month.

But despite all those differences, you found something you could bond over — sugar. You had been living together for a couple of weeks and barely spoke to each other when you found out Oscar was just as much of a sweet tooth as you.

“Hey, I made some cookies if you want” you had told him when he walked in, catching you thrown in the couch.

“Is that your dinner? Homemade cookies and beer?”

“I failed a test, think I’m allowed. Wanna join? I don’t mind sharing”

You ended up going through the whole batch that night, and after a beer or two, you both felt confident to talk through your differences. Since then you have basically been best friends.

These days it wasn't unusual for you both to be sitting in the living room together, not really doing anything but acknowledging each other’s presence. Oscar was doing some homework, his laptop on one leg and notebook full of numbers on the other, you were just reading for your next test. In reality you were trying to read it because all you could think of was—

“I think we should have sex” you blurted out, unprompted.

“Good night!” he replied automatically, shutting his laptop and notebook and immediately getting up.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you reached for his wrist, stopping him from leaving. “Oscar!”

“No, you’ve lost your mind completely, you need to go to bed.”

“Oscar!” you chuckled again, “Just listen, yeah?”

He rolled his eyes and set his materials down on the coffee table, turning back to you. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m just saying, we should get some steam out before the tests, you know?” you suggested, and he still looked at you in disbelief “Look, I’m only saying this because we don’t have time to look for someone to get laid and I literally heard you jerk off the other night.”

“Oh, my god. Good night” he picked his stuff back up and walked away.

You didn’t watch him leave but you did hear him slam this bedroom door.

“Pussy” you mumbled to yourself, shutting your book and going into your room too.

Oscar was absolutely spiraling in his room. What was wrong with you, why would you say that? He was just trying to revise for his test for the thousandth time and now all that he could think was you. Shit. Why would you say that? You are such good friends, and you had never done anything like that — well, except…

Fuck! He let his mind wander back to the night when you drunkly made out against a wall at that fucking party. You had pulled him into that corner, you had kissed him and you had put your hands all over him. Your hands had been perfect that night, fingers dived into his hair, pulled it while your hips pressed together, trying to relieve some of the pressure and… Shit!

Before he could stop himself Oscar was walking towards your room, opening the door without even knocking.

“I think we should have sex” he repeated, standing by your door.

“See my point now?” you grinned, looking up at him from your bed.

“Not really but I gave myself a boner thinking about it, now I need you to fix this”

You bit your cheek, trying to hold back a smile when you let yourself look at the tiny black shorts he always wore at home and notice that they were indeed a little tighter in the front.

“See how you’re stressed? You literally popped a boner in two minutes.” you teased, still sat on the bed.

“I don’t think those are related”

“They are. Remember when I took that Psychology class? Let’s just hope you’re not the type that goes soft when they’re tense” you teased.

“God, I hate you so much.” he threw his head back on the doorframe before looking back at you. “Are you gonna suck me off or not?” You raised your brows at him, surprised by his bluntness. “Sorry”

“Come here, Oscar” you put your book to the side and watched Oscar climb on your bed like he had done multiple times before. You turned to him and took your hand to his face, palm on his chin and letting your thumb graze his pink lips. “Do you actually want me to suck you off?”

He looked up at you, dark brown eyes intense, and nodded. “Yes,” he spoke, softly.

A grin pulled your face again and he kissed your finger. “Just don’t cum yet, wanna ride you”

Oscar sighed, a small “fuck” leaving his lips before he reached for your hair. His hand grabbed the back of your head almost possessively and pulled you into a kiss. Your tongue went past his lips as you moved around on the bed until you were sitting back on your knees, still kissing him. One of your hands rested on his chest while the other moved up his thigh, fingers brushing under his shorts.

You wanted to see him though, so your hands moved under his hoodie, cold fingers brushing his waist and up to his chest just before he pulled away.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking this off” you explained, hands still pulling it up until he held your wrists. “Oh, no, don’t tell me you’re one of those people that has sex with their clothes on” Oscar didn’t say anything but his face reddened “Yeah, no way, not with me. Take this off, let me see your tits”

“My tits?” he chuckled in disbelief.

“Yes, they look so good when you wear those tight shirts, wanna see them.”

“God, you’re fucking ridiculous” he mumbled, sitting up and pulling the hoodie over his head.

You grinned at the sight and he shook his head, that was the first time in all those months that you had seen Oscar shirtless and it did not disappoint. The way his chest narrowed into his waist was hypnotising and the trail of blond hair leading into his shorts made your body heat up in anticipation.

Your hands reached to rest on him, one on his chest the other on his stomach as your body folded over his, your lips meeting again. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss became desperate – at that point, Oscar was basically thrusting into the air, hoping it would relieve some of the growing pressure in his shorts.

You let your hand move down, just to rest over his cock but he buckled his hips into the warmth, silently begging for more. So you pulled away, pressing soft pecks to his lips before settling back between his legs.

Oscar watched you get on your knees and bend your body down to face his crotch, then his eyes inevitably drifted to your ass, up in the air and barely covered by the sleep shorts you had on. You kissed his stomach, your hands resting on his hips, fingers hooking on the waistband of his shorts.

You pulled them down, Oscar lifted his hips to help and soon you were staring at his gray boxers. You could see the outline of his cock in them and the wetness forming where his tip was poking. Before you could think your tongue was darting out to lick at it, hands already reaching to take off the underwear too.

As soon as you got rid of his boxers you settled between his legs, lying on your stomach, holding yourself up on your elbows. You took him in your hand and he sighed, watching as you guided him to your lips. You looked up at him through your lashes just to catch him biting his lip.

“You can touch me if you want, Oscar.” you whispered to his tip right before licking it and taking it into your mouth.

He threw his head back onto the wall, his hand finding your hair, not to push or pull, just rest there. The warmth of his palm against the back of your head was nice and made you want to take more of him. So you did.

You started sucking down, taking more and more of him until you couldn’t anymore. You hummed around his cock, that made his fingers twitch on the back of your head.

Oscar could barely look down at you without wanting to burst. And when you pulled off to kiss the bottom of his head and lick around his base, his cock brushing the side of your face, he lost it — couldn’t hold back the moan that came from the back of his throat.

You smiled at his reaction and spit down his tip, taking him back into your mouth. Oscar thought it was game over for him when you started going faster, tilting your head so every part of him was snug in your mouth.

“Ah, fuck” he sighed “Fuck, fuck— wait” he sounded desperate as he tugged on your hair, trying to get you to stop.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, looking up at him, knowing that the string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip was driving him crazy.

“Can’t— If you don’t stop I’m coming in your mouth, you said you didn’t want that” he spoke almost shyly, trying to explain himself.

You couldn’t help but smile as you sat back on your knees, your hands rubbing his thighs up and down. “You’re so sweet, Oscar” your hand reached out to bring his face to yours so you could kiss his jaw.

He melted back into the wall. You moved to straddle him, still kissing his face and neck. You took his hands to your hips and let yours dive into the back of his head, fingers tangling into his hair. His palms roamed freely on your ass, desperately grabbing and pulling your loose shorts.

“Want me to take them off?” you teased.

He was quick to answer, hands still clawed on the fabric “Want you to take everything off.”

You chuckled and pulled away, swaying your legs off him to stand right next to the bed. You pulled the shorts down with your underwear, then your top, leaving only the soft bralette you wore under your pajamas. Oscar's eyes never left your body, especially when you turned and bent down to grab a condom from your drawer.

“Stop making that face”

“What face?” he chuckled, lifting his hands and slapping them back on his thighs.

“This dumb one” you said while climbing back on the bed, “have you never seen a woman before?”

“I can’t believe you just called me dumb while you’re naked on top of me” he joked, letting his hands rest on your hips.

“Oh, I promise you’re not dumb, you’re way smarter than me” you mumbled against his neck, your lips brushing against the skin as your hands rested on his chest.

“I doubt that”

His right hand traced up your back, making a stop to unhook your bra before continuing up until his fingers were tangled in your hair and his palm was warm on your neck. He guided your face to his to finally catch your lips again.

Your hips started moving against him as soon as his tongue made it past your lips. Your hands tried to get the condom open while he kissed you intensely, your breaths and groans melting together. You managed to put it on when his lips started working on your shoulders, giving you the space to do so.

“That was impressive, I have to say” he chuckled to your shoulder.

“Talented hands” you joked.

“Oh, I’ve noticed”

His lips attacked yours once again as you knelt up, his hand reaching down to align his cock with your hole. He brushed it between your lips a couple times and finally slipped in. You groaned into each other's mouths when you sank down, taking all of him.

You started moving on him immediately, hands on his shoulders as your hips moved in circles. Oscar took his hands up to finally slip the bralette off your arms. He pulled you closer, arms wrapping tight around your waist until he was facing your chest, his lips brushed the skin and before you knew it he was mouthing at your tit.

Your hands dived into his hair again tugging at it as he sucked your nipple into his mouth. You couldn’t help but let out pretty little sounds — breaths, sighs and whines — and Oscar drowned in them, keeping his mouth working to get more out of you. When his teeth grazed your nipple, your back arched into him, your arms flew back to hold on to his thighs and keep yourself stable.

In the new position you could just hold onto him and glide your hips up and down. Oscar held on to your waist, still mouthing at your chest but starting at the other tit now. You could feel him humming against your skin, suppressed moans that he tried to hold back while your cunt squeezed him.

One of your hands squeezed between your bodies to reach for your clit. Your fingers circled the nub while he thrust his hips up, matching your movements perfectly. His mouth finally popped off your chest just to let out a moan.

“Jesus christ– you’re insane” he mumbled, his chin resting on your sternum.

“Don’t stop, Oscar, please” you moaned, your head falling back.

Oscar didn’t stop, he kept fucking up into you, his arms holding your waist as your back arched unbelievably further. Your fingers moved faster as you felt your orgasm approaching, by that point you could barely move your own hips but he helped.

Ridiculous sounds were leaving your parted lips, sounds you could simply not control anymore as pleasure took over your body. He was absolutely loving them, music to his ears as he felt your cunt clenching around him.

“Oscar, Oscar, Osc–“ you whined his name like a fucking prayer when you came.

Your body contorted in his arms, arched and tensed, shook and relaxed all at once, Oscar swore he had never seen anything so beautiful. He could barely take it anymore by the time you had come down. You were panting, but you held back onto his shoulders and guided him to rest back against the headboard. Your hips started moving again, back and forth, Oscar dropped his head on your chest and you hugged him there.

His hands helped you move to the pace he needed and soon he was moaning onto your chest, letting go as he came. You held him tight through it, still rocking your hips gently until you had both rode out your highs.

You stayed like that for a second before Oscar grabbed your thighs and slid down the bed so he was lying with you on top of him. You groaned when he reached down to pull out, clamping your thighs around his hips.

“No, feels good”

“Well, you don’t want a condom lost inside you, trust me” he argued. But you didn’t move, making him call out your name “I’m serious, if you get pregnant because you got a condom stuck inside, I’m not paying child support”

“Like in Love, Rosie?” you mumbled, smiling against his chest.

“Like in Love, Rosie” he recorded the movie you had made him watch weeks ago. You finally let go of his hips, lifting your own to help him take it off. “So, same time next semester?”

Sousuke Aizen: restraints, hypnotism, vibrators, face slapping, hair pulling, anal sex.

Bakudo had many useful applications. Barriers, seals and Sousuke's favourite method: restraints. It was a simple bakudo spell weaved with another kido spell, but with his reiatsu embedded in it, it was hard to break.

Hence why you were restrained and confined to a chair in his private quarters in Las Noches. Sousuke smiles at you, stroking your cheek and rubbing your tears away. Your eyes were clouded and filled with lust, desire and pain as you babbled and drooled all over yourself to the rhythmic sound of the vibrators in your pussy and ass.

"Use your words." He commanded, slapping you across the face.

You slumped forward. Wasn't Lord Aizen inside of your ass right now? The vibrator was in your pussy? You whined loudly as you felt restrained, you orgasm being denied again.

"Lord Aizen, please!" You panted, trying to move in his lap. You felt him pinch and roll your nipples, but still holding you in place. The vibrator in your pussy stirred inside you, his cum and your juices swirling and dripping down to the ground. You cried as you tried to chase your orgasm.

Shatter.

You looked up with bleary eyes, realizing that Lord Aizen was not fucking your ass as you had thought. He stood in front of you, fully clothed, an amused smirk on his face.

Lord Aizen pulls your hair, yanking your head up as the vibrators inside you begin to slow down. You couldn't believe that these toys made you think you were being fucked by Lord Aizen.

"Please sir," you begged, the restraints still holding you down in place. "I need you."

"I suppose it's reassuring to know you'll always be my cock hungry slut." Lord Aizen murmured, kissing you on the lips, slowly freeing his growing erection. "Why don't you show me what you thought you were doing?"

Kisuke Urahara: shibari, electric stimulation, oral sex (m receiving).

You flexed your fingers behind you as Kisuke tied the last rope in place. It amused you to no end to see the jovial and easy-going Kisuke to be so concentrated and serious, but you suppose he always was when it came to testing his inventions.

Which led to your current predicament.

You were always curious about his inventions, and Kisuke would never know what to make of it. At first he tried to brush you off, but your stubborn personality and eagerness slowly warmed his wary heart. And he knew it influenced his more recent inventions.

Although this new one, he wasn't sure if you'd take a liking too, but you were adamant on being his test subject. And with Kisuke spending more time with you, it became harder for him to say "no."

He stepped back from his latest work, taking off his hat as he hummed in appreciation. You were tied vertically, wearing lace thigh highs that Kisuke asked for you to wear, with your arms tied behind your back. You were on your knees.

"This wasn't what I had in mind, Kisuke." You laughed. "Are these special ropes?" You asked, trying to move around, but the ropes held you in place.

Kisuke let out a light laugh, "no, no this is to keep you in place." He lifted your head for a quick kiss. "I can't have you moving around too much." He said with an amused tone.

You tilted your head, giving him a curious look. He fished inside his samue for what looked like a black pen. Kisuke removed the cap, and you saw the familiar nib of a fountain pen.

"Are you going to draw on me Kisuke?" But your question was ignored.

Kisuke's look was one of concentration and focus as he held the pen above your uncovered breasts. You looked down and then yelped, red sparks emitted from the nib as Kisuke traced around your nipple.

"Kisuke, what is that?" You whimpered. But Kisuke ignored you again, tracing your other nipple. Your body felt more shocks and your pussy began to throb as the innocuous looking pen made its way down your body.

Kisuke adjusted the ropes, forcing you to bend backwards and your bare pussy exposed to him.

"Kisuke, what are you —" but before you could answer, the pen hovered around your clit, causing you to shriek at the unfamiliar sensation.

"Looks like it works perfectly." Kisuke beamed, as he continued moving the pen around, stopping by your clit every so often.

"Now lets see if my test subject can handle multitasking." Kisuke chuckled, pulling his cock out. His thighs were on either side of you as he slapped your face with his cock. You whined at the position, but opened your mouth eager to taste him.

"Remember, no teeth or you'll get punished." He murmured, as the pen touched your clit once again. You screamed around his cock, allowing Kisuke's cock further down your throat.

"Good girl," he smiled, watching your eyes roll back as another shock jolts your clit.

Akon: aphrodisiacs, body alteration, tentacles, oral sex (f receiving).

You flashed stepped your way to the Squad 12 barracks. It had been a few weeks since your partner, Akon, had holed himself in one of their laboratories. It wasn't like there was an urgent need for a new device, invention, or tool that the Gotei 13 needed, but the man had not left the lab in some time.

But everyone you spoke to from Squad 12 (bar Captain Kurotsuchi), said he was fine, but preoccupied with a current project. And you were worried. It wasn't like him to be so unresponsive.

Which is why you faced the barricaded door to Akon's lab. Hiyosu waddled his way to you, trying to get you to leave, but you were adamant, and frankly pissed.

"Akon, I know you're in there! I'm worried about you." You yelled. You began to slam your fist against the door, when it snapped open. Akon, with dark bags under his eyes, a faint stubble along his chin and covered with the thick smell of cigarette smoke, appeared before you.

"Sorry Akon, I tried to stop her."

"It's alright, you can go Hiyosu." Akon said, his voice laden with exhaustion. And with a quick tug, Akon pulled you into his arms and closed the doors to his lab again.

You tightened your arms around him, relishing the feeling of being in Akon's presence again.

"I've missed you, you know?" You whispered into his chest. You heard Akon sigh as he gave you a tight squeeze.

"I'm sorry." Akon apologized, "your timing is impeccable though," he chuckled. "I just finished my project."

You peeked behind him and didn't see anything unusual on his lab bench. "What did you discover?"

"You want to try?"

You nodded your head as Akon led you to his bench, and you saw what appeared to be four innocuous pieces of chocolate.

"You're a chocolatier now?" You asked. You picked one piece and sniffed it, the aroma of cacao hitting your nose.

"Sure, let's go with that." Akon gave you a wry smile, "why don't you try one?"

You trusted Akon, so without hesitation, you put the chocolate in your mouth, watching him do the same. It had a smooth flavour, and the right balance of sweetness you enjoyed in your chocolate.

"That was delicious!"

"And anything else?" Akon said, as he moved closer to you. Your senses felt heightened by his presence. You could smell him more clearly, feel his touch more deeply… and it went straight to your pussy.

Akon rubbed his thumb over your lips as he watched your eyes glaze over with lust. Your tongue darted out to lick the digit, but he quickly removed it, kissing you back instead.

"Akon, what did you make?" You panted as Akon began to cup your breasts through your uniform. Every touch leaving you aching for more.

"An aphrodisiac, thought it would be fun to try, just the two of us." Akon murmured.

Akon lifted you up on to his bench and undid your uniform, stripping you of your undergarments. Akon's touch lit a fire in you as you spread your legs wider, an invitation he gladly accepted. He hoisted your legs over his shoulders as began to lap at your pussy.

"Oh fuck!" You cried, throwing your head back. Akon laid his tongue flat against your clit, licking it with fervor. You weaved your fingers through his hair, pushing him against your pussy even more. The sounds of your moans echoed across his lab. You mewled in delight as he continued to eat you out, until you felt something strange tickle against your sopping wet hole.

"Akon?" You cried out, as the strange sensation joined him in licking your clit, then push itself inside you. You looked to see a tentacle worm its way out from Akon's uniform, but Akon himself remained unphased.

"Akon? What is that?!" You shrieked.

Akon looked up at you, his chin covered in your juices, "this? Another project I was working on." He smirked returning his attention back to your pussy.

You let out another loud moan as the tentacle thickened in girth inside you while Akon nipped and laved your aching clit.

Maybe you'd let Akon alone his lab more if this was what he was doing.

Kenpachi Zaraki: handcuffs, edging, butt plug, pegging/anal sex.

"You're luck you're sexy." Kenpachi huffed, as you made sure the special kido handcuffs you bought from Urahara Shoten, were still in place.

Giving him a sly smile, "why thank you." You knew in reality Kenpachi could snap the handcuffs with relative ease, but you had begged him to try this and Kenpachi was in a humorous mood (and who was he to say no to getting his dick wet?)

You made sure to get your nails done, dragging your manicured nails down his bare chest. He grumbled something, but you hushed him, deliberately rubbing your cloth covered pussy against his erection. Kenpachi made a slight wince then a snarl, glaring at you.

"You promised you'd be good, remember?" You said, giving his nipple a soft lick.

"Woman, you better make this quick." He snapped.

"Or what?" You continued to tease him, reaching down to grab his erection, the cock ring was snug tight on the base of his erection.

You slowly moved down his body, kissing each scar and mark along his skin, until you reached his erection.

You grinned, before licking the underside of cock, precum leaking out from the tip. You began to slap and squeeze his balls, watching Kenpachi glare and groan at your touch.

"You're a fucking bitch, you know that?"

You tsked at him, "watch your language" before sucking on the head of his cock. You moaned at the taste of him, but you weren't going to let him off that easily.

Your hand reached down past his balls to the cleft of his ass, pushing the plug you had him wear a bit deeper.

"I love it when you fuck my ass, Captain Zaraki" you smiled, "let's see if you like it when I fuck yours too."

Kenpachi smirked as he spread his legs wider for you. You gave his cock and balls a few more licks, before pulling and pushing the plug out of his loosened hole.

"Are you ready, Captain Zaraki?"

"C'mon and try, slut." Kenpachi drawled, snapping the handcuffs. "I'll still be fucking you later anyways." You laughed as you pushed the dildo inside him, watching him close his eyes and groan at the unfamiliar feeling.

Sometimes it was fun to try something new.

In the heat of the moment, the trip to his room seems long, too long. And made even longer every time he stops to press you against the nearest surface he can find. 

The closed elevator doors. 

The wall. 

Other guest doors. 

And each time you stop, your lips seek out his, to taste him again, and again, and again. To feel his large hands on you and his hips grinding into yours. Your skirt rides high on your thigh when your leg wraps around his hip. He’s hot and hard against your already damp core making you moan. 

“We- we need-” your words are lost to a gasp when his mouth trails up your neck in hot, wet, open mouthed kisses. His hands are under your shirt and around your back before you can take another breath, unclasping your bra “if you take my bra off in the hall, you’ll get us kicked out.” 

His hands slide back down your back to land on your waist. He mumbles his next words against the side of your neck, “My room is just down the hall.” 

You laugh, the sound light and breathless, “You keep saying that.” 

“Sorry,” He says with a grin, not looking sorry at all, “I just can’t wait to have you under me.” 

A scandalized gasp echoes through the deserted hall and you tear your gaze away from him to see a lady across the hall, hand on her chest, staring at the two of you. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles against your neck, then turns and flashes her a grin that’s not sorry at all, “honeymoon.” 

She still looks horrified when he lets you slide down his body, shirt catching on his hands and skirt riding high on his thigh. You giggle, too tipsy to care what the old biddy thinks, and take his hand as the two of you practically run down the hall. 

“This one.” He stops suddenly, using the momentum to swing you around until your back hits the door. His large hand cradles your head so it doesn’t hit, “This is my room.” 

He’s panting softly, looking between your eyes and lips. He hesitates for less than a blink before leaning down, his lips brushing against yours, “Last chance to back out.” 

He looks into your eyes again and you use his shirt to pull his lips against yours, tongue sliding into his slightly open mouth. You kiss him just long enough for his hand to slide down from the back of your head to cradle you. You pull away just enough to speak, your chest still brushing his with each breath, “Open the door.” 

No sooner are the words out than the door falls away from your back, startling you. But Yoongi is there, holding you against him as he walks you both fully into his dark room. The only light comes from the open curtain. 

His lips are on yours again, but softer, slower this time. As if now that you are in his space, he can take his time with you. 

As if he thinks you won’t leave. 

The backs of your knees hit the bed and you fall backward, holding his shirt to bring him with you. Your shirt is around your neck before you can think about how this is really happening. You raise your arms, his large hands rubbing up your sides, sliding your bra and top off. 

“Beautiful, Sunshine,” He breathes, just loud enough for you to hear in the quiet room, "Absolutely beautiful.” 

You smile softly, just drunk enough to brave the compliment without blushing, “You’re one to talk,” you move to sit up, fully planning on removing his shirt yourself. 

“Wait,” He puts a hand on your shoulder, gently laying you back down, legs dangling off the edge of the bed, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do since I laid eyes on you.” 

You prop yourself up on your elbows as he kneels in front of you. He wraps one warm hand around your calf, squeezing lightly as he kisses your knee, before using the other hand to slip your sandal off. He repeats the process on the other side, then pulls your legs over his shoulders. 

“You shouldn’t-”

He stops you with a hot, wet, kiss to your thigh as he pushes your skirt around your waist. It bunches under your ass, but at the moment, you can’t find it in you to care. Not when he's tracing his name on the inside of your thigh with his tongue. 

“Do I look like I care?” He asks, raising one eyebrow as he moves closer, his shoulders pushing your legs further apart. “I’ve been wanting to taste this pretty pussy you’ve been hiding under this ridiculous skirt all night.” He traces your pussy lips one with one finger, the touch so light, but so scandalous, you can’t help but shiver. “Besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t want this too, you’re not even wearing panties. I can see you dripping for me already.” 

This time you blush. You can’t lie to yourself, or him, at this moment. You had gone to the beach party fully hoping to hook up. You just thought it would be something quick in the changing tent. Not…whatever this was about to be. You were sure it would be life changing though. 

“Well then, put your money where your mo-” 

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence before his mouth is hot against your pussy. His nose bumping against your clit with his tongue already inside you. 

You gasp and grab his hair without a thought. His onslaught so sudden it steals your breath. “Yoo-Yoongi!” 

His lips wrap around your clit and he hums lightly, hands kneading your thighs as you try and squeeze his head between them, “Don’t close your legs, Sunshine, let me see this pretty pussy.” 

You let go of his hair with one hand and throw the other over your eyes while you use what little control you have to ride his tongue and fingers. He plays you expertly, like the piano he’s so fond of. Still, you can’t quite let yourself go. 

“Give it to me baby girl,” He kisses right above your clit, a hot open mouth kiss that feels like it should be illegal, “I want you to come in my mouth baby. Let me drink you.” 

His words spoken against your skin followed by his tongue send you over the edge. You come so hard you see stars. He licks your slit over and over and over until you come down. 

“I, I have never-” you're panting harder now, wondering if that’s how good he is with his mouth, how will you survive the night? “You are entirely too dressed,” you finally get out. 

He stands slowly, and without breaking eye contact, begins removing his clothes. His shirt hits the floor, quickly followed by his shoes and pants. When his hands find his boxers, you hold out a hand to stop him. 

“Wait, let me.” You can’t stop staring at him, “You are the most gorgeous person I have ever seen.” you say with awe, reaching for his boxers. 

You meet his eyes again, having looked away to admire the rather large bulge in his boxers, and slowly push them down his legs. His cock springs free, so close to your mouth, you can’t help but lick the pre-come from the tip. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one dripping” You tease, and lick his tip again as he groans. 

He puts his hands in your hair and pulls your head back, “As much as I want you to look up at me with your mouth full of my cock,” he smirks, “I need you to lay back on that bed so I can fuck you properly.” 

You bite your lip and smile, kissing the head of his cock one more time, before going to remove your skirt, “Leave it.” He growls out and climbs on top of you, putting one knee to your hot core and pressing just right to make you squirm. 

He grabs his cock as you spread your legs, more than ready for him. 

“Condom?” He asks, already rubbing the head of his cock against your dripping pussy. 

“Dont need one. I’m on the pill” 

His eyes meet yours, you can see he’s surprised and pleased, right before his eyes darken. Hungry. He thrusts into you. Moving you back with the force of it.

“Fuck,” he grinds out, trembling above you as he tries to hold still, “you are so fucking tight. Ungh,” you move your hips, encouraging to move silently, “Don’t do that.” he pleads, eyes closed, “Fuck baby girl, I don’t know how I’m going to last.” 

You raise your hips again, “Then don’t,” you moan, more than ready for him to move, “we have all night.” 

His eyes meet yours at that and he finally, finally, moves. “I’m. going. to. fill. you. so. full. of. me,” he punctuates each word with a thrust. You put your hand above your head to steady yourself against the headboard and wrap your legs around his waist, meeting each of his trusts with your hips,  “Then I’m going to eat it out of you and do it again.” 

You were already close to another orgasm, still sensitive from the one he wretched from you earlier, but his words throw you over the edge. You cry out and tighten around him. 

“You like that, Sunshine?” He asks his thrusts less rhythmic now, chasing your orgasm, “You like the idea of being so full of my come it’ll be dripping out of you for days.” he stills, filling you with his hot, hot, hot come. You can feel his legs shake as he empties inside of you. 

He collapses against you, his cock barely softening inside of you. You run a hand through his hair and down his back, using your nails to lightly scratch him. The silence stretches as you both just breathe, enjoying the closeness. 

You can feel his come starting to spill out of you and go to pull away, but he wraps his arms around you, stopping you from moving. 

“Stay.” He says, moving just enough for you to realize he’e getting hard again. 

“Oh” 

“Did you think I was joking?” He laughs lightly and uses the skirt around your waist to pillow your hips, raising them just slightly. He nips at your neck, hard enough to sting, but licks at it to ease the slight pain. “I’m going to fill you again,” thrust, “and again,” thrust, “and again, until you can’t walk without feeling me.” 

You smile, looking up at the fan on the ceiling as his hot, hot, hot, mouth finds your nipple with his teeth, “In that case, don’t let me stop you.” 

-0-0-0-

You look out the window, the ocean waves gently lap at the shore as the sun is cresting the horizon. Yoongi has only been asleep for an hour, maybe less, but you couldn’t sleep. Not knowing what you’d have to do. 

Leave. 

His arm tightens around your waist and you sigh. His nose nuzzles into your hair and you find your resolve to leave slipping… but you know that this can’t be. He’s an international idol. And you… you’re just a one night stand. 

You didn’t even give him your real name, telling him it was Sunshine just to keep things from getting out of control. But here you were, spiraling. 

Sighing again, you shift slowly out of his grip, pillow handy to put in your place. 

He shifts slightly, and you freeze thinking he woke up, but he just grips the pillow tighter. 

You breathe out in relief, then wince as you take a step away from his bed. He hadn’t been kidding when he said you’d be dripping for days. Even after eating multiple loads out of you, his warm come still slipped out of you, coating your thighs until each step was slightly sticky. You didn’t have time to clean up as you quickly gathered your clothes. Your plane left in three hours and you still needed to pack the last of your things. 

You grimace thinking about sitting on a plane for hours, still full of him. It was hot last night, but without him beside you on the plane, you knew you were in for an uncomfortable ride. 

You take one last look around the room before making a split second decision. You grab your lip gloss from the inside pocket of your skirt, and write on the mirror. It doesn’t have a lot of tint, but the message is clear:

“Thank you for the best night of my life. 

I’ll never forget you. 

Your Sunshine.” 

You spare one last look at the man who ruined you for all other men, and slip out of his room and out of his life…

-0-0-0-

“Uhhhh Y/N?” 

You hear your roommate call you from the other room. You put your armful of laundry on your bed, catching sight of the skirt you wore your last day at the resort and smiling. 

“Y/N, I think you need to see this!” Her voice rises in excitement and you can’t help but wonder what’s got her worked up. 

“What is it?” you ask, making your way to the living room. 

“...Sunshine, if you recognize her, please contact this number.” 

Your roommate turns to you with big eyes, “Y/N?” 

But your eyes are locked on the TV screen.

There, in full color, you are in the resort hallway, being pulled by Yoongi. 

They split the screen, half of it has a close up of you, your face flushed and lips kiss swollen. The other half with the contact number hovering above Yoongi. 

You know your mouth is open, but you can’t close it. He’s looking for you. It was the last thing you expected. 

“Please, Sunshine, come back to me.” 

His voice breaks through your shock.

“Y/N.. what did you do?” your roommate asks, voice higher with glee. 

“I… I think I need to call him.” 

You turn to leave, his message pleading with you to come back playing over and over on the screen. 

“Go get your man, girl!”

“Three,” Barty begins to countdown. 

Looking out the corner of his eye, Evan can see Barty’s tongue poke out and his eyes steel in concentration. But, on “two”, a quick sting blooms on Evan’s ear, followed by a light pop as the needle exits his lobe. His fingers work nimbly, nearly on auto-pilot, sliding the simple stud into the hollow needle.

With the needle removed and the backing secured, Barty leans back, admiring his handiwork. ”Aw, you look great Ev,”  He leans in with a teasing smile, “The girls’ll be all over you now.”

“Shut up,” Evan rolls his eyes and attempts to step back, suddenly more aware of their proximity.

But Barty only clamps his legs tighter and presses on, “What, it’s been awfully quiet around this apartment lately—maybe this’ll help,” He suggests with a waggle of his brows.

Evan throws a jab to the boy across from him, “Like you’re one to talk.” 

Barty catches his wrist. The warm heat of his skin contrasts with the cool metal of his rings and sends goosebumps up Evan’s arm. “Oh, but I wouldn’t dare miss our movie nights,” Barty insists.

“Good,” Evan manages after a beat, pulling back in an effort to free his arm.

Barty just tightens his grip and tugs him back in, “I’ve still got one more.”

Giving in with a huff, Evan turns his head, presenting his other ear. 

The second goes just as smoothly as the first, and Barty leans to the side to allow Evan access to the mirror behind him.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“Perfect.” Evan decides as he studies his reflection.

“Perfect.” Barty echos, his eyes fixed on Evan’s.

bonus: (later that night)

Barty returns from the kitchen with two beers in hand. He tosses one to Evan before sinking into the couch and kicking his feet into Evan’s lap. 

The can gives a hiss as Evan cracks it open. He takes a sip before resting it on the table and exchanging it for the TV remote.

Barty speaks up, “So, I reckon we can do your nipples next weekend,” Attempting to hide a wicked smirk—something he is never very good at.

He scoffs and chucks a pillow in Barty’s direction, “In your dreams, B.”

Barty yelps as it jostles his arm, and he ends up with beer down the front of his shirt. “Oh fuck you, and give me that; you know it’s mine turn to pick the movie.”

Evan relinquishes the remote without protest, but his eyes linger as Barty’s tongue darts out. He watches him lick a stripe down his beer to clean up the spilled drops clinging to the can. A small clink sounds as his piercing connects with the aluminum. He forces his gaze away, and his mind returns to Barty’s original comment.

“How about my eyebrow,” Evan offers.

“Are you serious,” His head snaps to the side, “You’d let me?”

“Of course,” Evan answers, grinning as he watches a smile take over Barty’s face.