FINALLY AFTER 6 YEAR'S GOT MY BOY HOME ✨✨✨✨.....This was one of spiciest date of all time.... can't wait what PG is cooking in the CN server this year..🥵🥵🥵
The lovely @marianyupjustmarian requested: "how about a s/o (victor always) with a s/o who has no friends?"
Let's be real, Victor doesn't really have friends either, so in some ways he would understand. At the same time though, he didn't go out of his way to make friends, as it just wasn't a priority for him. Personally, if you were close enough to him to be dating him, then he would most likely consider you to be the only relationship that he needed, be it romantic or platonic. He didn't really think that either one of you needed anyone else, but if you were very upset or lonely, he would find a way to get you some. Bringing you along to parties he was invited to, or starting projects at his work related to your interests, so that people interested would join, giving you connections to other people with interests like yours, and more. Though, I think he's unlikely to actually take much time off of work, he might bring you along to keep you company. Mostly, he would just do anything he could think of to make you feel happier, and less alone.
Watched weather channels to plan accordingly. Layers, an umbrella, etc.
Meanwhile, you were the opposite.
You left your office and were met with a downpour.
Even Kiki had an umbrella. What had your life come to?
Before you made a run for it, someone got out of their car that had been parked a few metres away. He was approaching you.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to run.
His dark eyes emitted disappointment but there was that smug, low-key attractive smirk as he offered his black umbrella.
You volunteered to hold it for you two but his height difference wasn’t helping.
Didn’t say it, but hoped you’d forget again so he could have an excuse to be with you.
Lucien:
Usually, Lucien could be found carrying an umbrella whenever it was drizzling around campus or the laboratory.
But away from those establishments, he would lower it and let the rain soak his hair and down his face.
If he was feeling particularly distant that day, he would stand by an intersection and stare at the shimmering asphalt for a long time.
You spotted his tall figure in the distance and you called for him. He didn't hear you. The rain and memories were much louder than your voice.
But you only thought it was because of the distance. You spoke up, louder this time as you dashed towards him. You were so excited to share the good news.
You hugged him from behind and when he didn’t move, fear crept towards your heart.
Wait did I mistaken some random guy as Lucien?
But the familiar scent of mint and lavender reassured you as your body warmth did for him.
Your bright, beaming smile hardly wavered as Lucien turned to you and you started to ramble about the success of your proposal. The rainfall was distant somehow as if a fantastical sun was clearing up the clouds and bathing the world in warm light and saturated colours.
“It’s all thanks to you!” you declared, as you held the umbrella over him. “How can I repay you?”
Instantly, he pulled you into an embrace. It lasted longer than you expected and when you tried to pull away to read his emotions, his arms tightened around you.
“Unfortunately, I am feeling quite greedy today,” he murmured, his former self slowly returning. “You need to stay a little longer.”
Kiro:
Some people called it careless, but you and Kiro defined it as carefree.
You two were playing an old video game when the room started to dim, making the screen glow bright.
“Finally!” Kiro said, feigning exasperation as he peered out the window like a puppy eager to take a walk. He smiled back at you. “Let’s go!”
With only the thin sweaters you two were wearing and a rickety umbrella with a size that was clearly intended for children, you scrambled outside into the April showers.
You twirled around with him, jumping into any puddles in the empty, quiet street.
Then you had an idea.
When Kiro was distracted by the mauve clouds, you cupped your hands together and rain started to gather into your palms.
“Kiro!”
When he turned, he was greeted with a splash of water in the face.
He laughed, his eyes sparkling. “Didn’t think you’d be so cruel, Miss Chips.” With that mischievous grin slowly creeping onto his lips, you knew you were in trouble.
He shook the damp umbrella at you and managed to get rain onto your face despite your efforts to shield it.
“Aw, did it get into your eyes, Miss Chips?” The next second you blinked, Kiro was already right in front of you, faces centimeters apart.
You didn’t realize how soft his fingers were until he stroked your cheeks gently.
Now he was the one who found you distracted.
Quick as a beat, he kissed your cheek before sprinting away, laughing.
Who’s in trouble now?
Gavin:
The date was going so well.
Did your research on the annual lily festival, both of you had a day off and no Minor trying to butt in.
So, of course, there was a random storm. And of course, you were wearing your favourite white shoes.
Instinctively, Gavin took off his denim jacket to shelter you.
Ashamed, you tried to stop him, but the hefty bouquet of lilies in your arms is not helping, as it appears to be in Gavin’s favour. You managed to get the flowers in one hand but you were already engulfed by his jacket.
“I don’t want you to get cold,” you reasoned but the denim felt pleasantly warm and dry in contrast to the incoming rain.
His smile was soft as he looked down. “I’m fine. I have something better.”
You followed his gaze. Your hands were intertwined and you hadn’t realized it. It felt so natural together.
His brown hair was dripping wet already. Neither one of you were in a rush to seek refuge and so the fields of lilies swayed around you both in tranquil privacy.
You started to fumble to unbutton your blouse.
Gavin’s face paled as his amber eyes averted away. “Umm, you’re going to get sick.”
“I have your jacket,” you said. “Don’t worry, I have something underneath.”
It didn’t matter if you did. He’s pretty confident it wouldn’t change his reaction, so he held your hand again. “It’s alright. I’ll be fine.”
“But I want to dry your hair,” you insisted, knowing your tone and your big, sad eyes always made him give in. And it did.
“Then you can do it tonight,” he spoke in a low voice, firmly holding onto your fingers. “After we take a shower.
Hello!! Could I request a touch-starved Gavin to a female MC (NSFW)🥺🙏 ?? Thank you!!!
Unfortunately, I don't write smut. I've written on here, like, once and decided it wasn't my thing! I added my rules to my masterlist to make them easier to find.
HOWEVER!!!! I will write this as a fluff piece for you instead!! :D I never get MLQC requests, so I really want to write this even if it can't be NSFW!
Gavin x female MC
Genre: Fluff. Pure, tooth-rotting fluff
Warnings: None
Gavin is Touch-Starved
You were laying in bed, a pair of shorts and one of Gavin's tee shirts acting as pajamas for the evening. He had texted you some time ago saying he would be home within the next couple of days. You were giddy with excitement. Gavin was away on a mission, which usually meant he'd come home injured much to your chagrin. You'd take care of that when he got home. You missed your boyfriend dearly every single time he had to go away, and he missed you just the same. The phone calls could only do so much.
The wind blew in through your bedroom window and you sat up. Gavin. That wind was absolutely deliberate. The man had a habit of coming in through the window if he knew he wouldn't be seen by pedestrians, even though you guys had a perfectly good door to your shared apartment. Some habits would never die, and you thought it was pretty endearing.
He stepped into the bedroom and you were at his side in an instant. He looked tired but he didn't seem injured like he usually was. It was a weight off of your shoulders. Seeing him hurt was the most heart-breaking experience and it happened for too often for your liking.
"Welcome home," you said with a smile before being tugged into his embrace.
"I'm home, MC," he whispered into your hair.
This was routine. Gavin craved physical touch. It was so much more intense if he wasn't able to see you for long periods of time. He let you go so he could get into something more comfortable; loose sweatpants and no shirt. He collapsed onto the bed and pulled you into his lap.
His hands explored your body, though he knew every last dip and curve, before settling one on your side and the other caressing your face.
"I missed you so much," he said, warm breath smelling of spearmint fanned onto your face.
You leaned in and kissed him tenderly, your free hand running through his brown hair. He kissed back, sighing against your lips. When the two you parted, he laid down with you cradled into his chest.
"Are you hungry at all?" You asked.
"No," he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "I just want to lay like this for a while. It gets difficult when I can't see you. I miss you dearly when I'm away, MC."
You melted into his embrace, reaching one arm up so you could run your fingers through his hair. He leaned his head into the simple touch.
"I just want to lay like this for a while. I want to feel your skin on mine."
His chest was warm against you. He was always warm, honestly. You would often joke that it was like having your own personal furnace. He kept you warm whenever you were chilly. Even if it was just because the apartment's air conditioner was on. If you were cold, you were in his arms. You learned that it was also him just wanting physical touch.
Gavin was a man who yearned for that positive physical contact. He wasn't good at receiving it in a platonic sense, you used to think he didn't like being touched very much because he would tense up. You learned that he wanted physical contact, he was touch-starved. His home-life growing up, as you had learned, was cold and he was treated with shame for never showing a hint of the Evol gene. Until it awoke in high school.
Now, as an adult, he was touch-starved. You gave him the touch he so desperately craved. He would melt into your touch. It was very uncommon for you two to be together and not be touching in some capacity.
"I love you," you murmured.
Gavin smiled against your hair and planted a kiss to your head. You felt his hold on you grow just a little bit tighter.
I’ll compile all my content for Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice here! I’ll edit the rest and have them posted eventually - please keep in mind of the warnings! Happy browsing :))
(yeah its the reference to obey me oops) Anyway, because Halloween is fast approaching and I just finished writing this, I thought I could share it :))
Night Chant AU - Exorcist!Gavin x reader
Synopsis: You’ve been having nightmares but you are reluctant to tell Gavin because you felt very embarrassed.
Warnings: 18+ (minors do not interact please!), romanticizing/sexualizing religious terms, Deserted City Date spoilers
Something is not quite right with you. Or is it you? Recurring dreams are relatively harmless when they lack significance in reality. It becomes concerning when they suggest the disturbing side of one’s subconsciousness. Surely not everything in that void can be lovely embraced. The thoughts that you bury down always come back from the dead for retribution. The more effort to bury them, the greater the counterattack.
The warm and soft moments prior to the dream comforts you at first, like a moth drawn to a lantern. The autumn wind whistles among the valley and through the trees which showers orange and gold across the night sky. It skims over the bolted shut windows, only managing to rattle the panes but it doesn’t faze you as you are held close by him. The candle by the nightstand has been long put out but with your cheek pressing against his chest, his warmth is much more pleasant than that of any candle.
The heavy quilt helps retain both of your body heat and his embrace incites further sense of heat across your face.
His head rests over yours and the only sounds coming from him are his shallow breaths of his slumber.
You have been gazing at his bare neck for a long time, especially because he usually kept a swathe of white bandages around it.
For the second time, you witness it exposed. When your eyes fall onto the two, tiny punctures on his skin, the first time rushes back into your mind.
The images submerge and break the surface momentarily. They are unclear but you are vaguely aware of what is happening: you are biting his throat, a hungry desire to kill. Scarlet droplets of blood stain your bared teeth. You take a moment to savour the sweet taste, your tongue catching the remaining droplets racing down his neck, before closing your teeth over his skin again, craving more.
He groans, helplessly as he struggles against the chains on his right wrist. His grip on your forearm is urgent yet there is an underlying gentleness in his movement even when his life is on the line.
"Stop," he breathes out, his voice shaky. The fierce expression he wore when you were against Heron does not return, despite the fact that the true Devil is now finally before him.
Push me away, you urge, you must stop this!
But his stance remains yielding, only his gripping hand nudges you away but it easily surrenders when you press yourself back to him, closer than before.
The cross pendant he wears is pressed against both bodies. Gradually, it emits a silvery glow and the shine sweeps the scene away.
When you think the horrifying part is over, the next thing you know, you are on top of him, neither one dressed.
Clothes are scattered across the floor or hanging at the edge of the bed. His soft amber eyes are glazed. His cheeks and ears were completely red. He is failing miserably at being silent as groans and a few whimpers escape his swollen lips as you move against him, your hips keep pressing closer and closer even when there is no space in-between.
Your movements are rough: with each sway of your hips and bounce against his sensitive skin, his blushing face becomes more vulnerable and helpless. His mouth is agape as he finally allows all the groans, pants and whimpers to be heard loud and clear, completely surrendering himself to you. "Ah~ah~slow down," he manages, yet he tightens his vice grip against your hips as he buries himself deeper. "Then beg," you say. His voice hitches as you go faster. He eventually finds his voice again and murmurs, "Please ... please wake up."
The grasp on your shoulders feels apparent and the golden light disperses your nightmare away. You find yourself staring up at him. There is no shade of red across his face and his brows furrowed as he read your expression.
“Are you alright?” he asks. The morning rays contour his figure and make the tips of his brown hair glow almost bronze. His hair and loose shirt are relatively disheveled but most likely from sleep . . . nothing else . . .
“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, his calloused fingers strokes across your cheek and the dread within you knows what he would say next: “Your face is red.”
“Just a little nightmare,” you say, lowering your gaze to break eye contact. “I’m fine now . . .” Then your eyes catch the sight of his wide shirt collar again, which exposes his bare neck and the same two punctures. Your heartbeat races even faster now.
“It must’ve been an unordinary nightmare if it has given you such a reaction. Or a fever.” He presses the back of his hand on your warm forehead and you immediately squirm. “Hey, stay still. You seem restless. What happened in your nightmare?”
You scurry out of bed, straightening your long nightgown. With an attempted beaming smile, you say, “It’s alright. I nearly forgot. Are you hungry? I’ll make some breakfast. I’ll be done soon!” Hastily, you turn to walk away and you knock against the dresser. You clutch your ribs and try to feign normality but he is already next to you.
“Where does it hurt? You don’t need to run.” He cradles you close as his hand hovers over your sore side.
“Ah, here,” you manage as you gesture to your upper ribs, “it’s alright. I’ll be careful next--” It isn’t his touch against your growing bruise that makes you falter. His hand is gentle but his knuckles brush against your soft chest. He doesn’t notice but you pale.
“Ahh, I’ll handle it! I just need some cream!” you break free from his loose embrace and dash out of the room before he can react. The bruise is growing but the pain just won’t register anymore.
***
While collecting your thoughts as you cook, you prepare all the conversation topics you can depend on to divert his attention anywhere but your strange behaviour. The weather, how the food tastes, if your cooking improved, if he wants to go to the renewed city that was once deserted, if he wants to take a stroll with you. He answers your questions like usual and goes with you wherever you suggest. The day has no more strange interruptions or moments and your nerves finally settle down.
Until you finish taking a bath.
The creak of the wooden door alerts him as you walk out of the bathroom.
“How is your bruise?” he asks, his brows furrowed. “The town physician says this will help you heal faster.” He offers you a small box. He must’ve bought it in the city when you were buying some candles.
You take it with both hands and nod. “Thank you.”
When you are about to turn, he says, “May I ask you something?”
You shot him a glance, your body turning rigid. You are certain the bruise is on your ribs but its proximity to the other part of your torso feels suddenly closer. Your journey to forget this morning’s situation becomes fruitless as it floods back into your memory. “I-It’s okay! I can do it myself! See? My hands are fine!” You raise your hands, almost like a feeble surrender. But for what?
He lets out a laugh as he clasps both your hands. Despite the box between one pair, you feel the warmth of his palms. “No, silly, I meant . . .” He falters when he finally processes your words. His ears turn red. “Wait, I didn’t mean---”
“It’s okay!” you repeat. “I should get started---” When you turn, your wrist is in his grasp.
“Wait, I have to talk to you. Just for a moment.” He blocks your way and holds your face up to his, keeping eye contact even if his blush hasn’t faded away yet. His amber eyes are soft with mild hurt. “You’ve been acting very distant lately.”
“I’ve been with you all day,” you say as nonchalantly as possible.
“Yet you haven’t looked me in the eyes for the past couple of days. It’s like you can’t stand being in the same room as me for longer than a few minutes.” He glances at your hand. “You nearly jump whenever I touch you at all.”
Your heart sinks, the dread for the truth and the anguish seeing him hurt weighs heavy.
He brings his gaze back to yours. “Have I frightened you in any way? Tell me, I promise it won’t happen again. Just don’t . . . part from me. Not like this.”
The cross pendant lays against his chest like every day, like when he saved you from the Devil’s possession. You began tracing the engravings thoughtfully. He carefully observes as you build courage.
“Although I have regained full control over my body since that night,” you murmur, “I somehow feel like the possession lingers in my thoughts, drenching them with sin every night I dream.”
“What are your nightmares? I can help you.” He holds your hands gently but you can nevertheless sense the firm determination within his veins. His eyes are resolute, even before you repent. You want to laugh but you also want to cry.
“I’m sorry, my dear valiant exorcist, but you can’t help me this time.”
“I know I can do it,” he insists, stubborn. “Please let me help.” His grip tightens as if fearing he’ll lose you again.
You can’t help but smile at the irony. “It’s too humiliating if I speak it . . .”
He tilted your chin up again. “No matter what it is, I’ll always support you. I know I can help. I can do it again and again whenever you need me. I don’t mind. I’ll never mind. I like helping you. Please, trust me.”
The purity of his heart expressed into his words tightens its hold into your own tainted one. You can’t bear to push him away again. It has been days since you started doing so, yet the nightmares are getting worse. After all those times, you fail to notice that keeping your sinful self away from him hurts him as much as it hurts you.
I won’t run now. I must repent. That’s the only way this can stop once and for all.
“Ever since we moved in together, I’ve been having many different dreams of the same thing. How it plays out is different each time but it always revolves around the same, sinful act.” You force yourself to keep your gaze at him.
He waits and listens.
“I’ve been having dreams about us.”
His eyes darkened. “Did I hurt you in those dreams?”
You quickly shake your head. “No, well, actually . . . it’s more like a good way,” you mumble the last part to yourself but he catches it.
“I’m sorry that I did this to you. Violence can never be moral no matter how good you may think it may be. I ask for your forgiveness.”
“How can you apologize for something you did in my dreams? You can’t control that! And besides, judging by how fast and rough you were going, I didn’t want you to control it.”
His stare grows piercing. “Was it repetitive? How can this be? The dreams associate me with such brutality and violence . . .”
“There’s no brutality! We were just having sex! Unwed and savage! It’s as lustful as you and your holy mind can imagine! And of course, it was repetitive. It wouldn’t feel as good any other way.”
There is deafening silence.
At last, it’s off my chest. At last, I can finally repent.
His eyes darted anywhere but at yours now. His hands slightly tremble over yours. The blush that almost faded from his ears and cheeks are now slowly but surely returning. He tries to move his lips but he can’t find his voice. You wonder if the scenes are flitting across his mind, each more obscene than the previous.
You start feeling guilty. He is an exorcist. How could you plague the mind of a virtuous exorcist with such thoughts?
You move your hands away from his as if to avoid infecting him. “I really want to apologize. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable and terrified of me ever again. I tried to hide it but alas, I did not do a very good job.” You press your palm over your heart. “The possession must be lingering within me and I’m afraid. I don’t know what to do. Do you know if someone else can help me get rid of this?”
“‘Someone else?’”
“I can’t let you do this. There will be too much burden for you if you do. I am aware it is uncomfortable and revolting. How else can an exorcist think of it? Especially with the fact that you are involved in it . . .”
Now that your internalized thoughts surface beyond your mind, new fear races over your heart. The remaining façade you muster to present before him shatters. In desperation, you grab onto his hands, the medicine box rattles onto the floor. “I’m scared. I don’t know what will happen to me. Please refer me to someone---anyone---so I can have hope. You have a guild of exorcists, don’t you? Or maybe a church? Can they help? You can refer me to them and I’ll never bother you again. We can part ways here. Only then can you have peace of mind. I want to be good! Like you! I can’t be like this anymore. I just want to be good. I must seek help before it’s too late. . .”
“There’s no need to seek anyone else for help. I can help you.”
You winced. “But if it’s too uncomfortable for you, someone else should---”
“No. I won’t let anyone else do it.” He falters. “I . . . I mean, I am very qualified to assist you myself.” After taking a long look at you, he lowers his tone: “Come here.”
He guides you to the bed to sit down. He leans down, peering at your eyes carefully like a sophisticated doctor. The cross pendant swings like a pendulum. It is somewhat mesmerizing and it takes you a few moments to realize how close he is to you now. His distinct scent lingers, a mix of mint and of the restless night air. His lips are so close to yours, you can feel his shallow breaths.
Without thinking, you hold onto his loose, black shirt and he leans in until your foreheads meet. You lose your balance and his hand instinctively cushions the back of your head as you fall backward onto the plush covers. He towers over you, anchored between your thighs, but he doesn’t seem imposing; he is more like a beacon or even a saviour.
“Gavin . . .”
“May you show me what happened?” His voice is above a whisper.
“Huh?”
His eyes never leave you, they stare deep into yours as if they can see into your mind and spirit. “Show me what you did to me or”---his lips lie near your ear--- “what I did to you.”
You blink, stunned yet calm. Can reality bleed into another nightmare so elegantly?
His lips brush against yours before you can react. The distance is miniscule as he asks, “Did I kiss you? Tell me.”
You slowly nod.
“Was it gentle? Although, I recall you mentioning I was rough.” He brings your hand to his jaw. “Show me how I kissed you.” He smiles when your fingers tremble as they guide him near you once more.
His lips are soft yet chapped from the autumn wind. They quiver as you pull him closer until his chest presses against yours, the pendant enveloped in between. The kiss deepens as his hands run down your nightgown, caressing your waist and then your thighs. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and as you gasp from the contact, his tongue shyly enters your mouth.
“Mm~” Your whimpers are muffled from his devoted persistence to taste you yet the sounds that manage to escape fuels him. His hand trembles against your thighs and so you guide it just beneath the hem of your gown.
When he speaks your name, his voice sounds so worshipful, as if praying. His breathing quickens as you part your legs further. You let his hand wander alone and he clutches onto your frail undergarment. He slowly pulls it off while caressing your skin as it is slowly being revealed. The cold air on your sensitive skin becomes warm with his shaky touch. You moan against his mouth which encourages him, evident by the sudden hastiness of his strong fingers as they undid the lace and stripping you from your nightgown. His touch remains soft and worshipful as if you are an angel. He gazes at your bare body in a daze and you squirm yet his legs pinned yours in place.
“Don’t go just yet.” He now hovers right above you, laboriously breathing against your neck as if not only restraining you but himself as well. “We’ve only started the exorcism.”
The word brings you back from your haze of pleasure. “Gavin,” you mewl as he presses desperate kisses against your throat, “t-this isn’t right---ah~!” His teeth sinks into your vulnerable skin near your jaw and sucks, just like you had done to him. Is it too late afterall? Does the Devil possess him too? But you feel no pain, only dragging you back into delirious pleasure.
His touch becomes rough and persistent as if to prove his complete devotion to you. You feebly cling onto him as he rocks against you, the friction of the rough fabric of his clothes over your bare skin sends you shuddering, especially with the firm hardness against your core.
“W-wait, this isn’t---” your voice trails into high-pitched moans as he leaves multiple, deep lovebites on your neck before moving his hungry lips lower to your bare chest. He licks and sucks on each breast as he gropes the other, his low hum of ecstasy makes your heart flutter. With the pace he sucks them, it is as if he desires milk to leak out. The cold silver of the pendant skims over your abdomen, reminding you to break from the lustful haze before there is no return.
“You're supposed to help me,” you say, exclaiming as he bites down onto your plump flesh. “Not make it worse . . .”
The roughness of his callouses against your inner thighs and hips as he pulls you closer makes you falter. His cheeks and ears are now burning red and his lips are wet with want. His eyes are glazed, as if enchanted by a spell yet his speech remains clear and direct. “I have no experience with purging this form of sin,” he says as his thrusts grow more and more erratic against you, “but I’ve thoroughly studied the sacred scripts of purification.”
“Ah, ah, y-you said you are qualified!” you retort in between breaths. “And that no one else can do it---”
“I won’t let anyone do it,” he whispered right by your ear. “Only I can see you like this.” Maybe he is not possessed after all, but the possessiveness weaved into his words makes you shiver in anticipation. Hastily, he sheds his black shirt as he kisses you again, unable to bear tearing himself from you. You stifle another whimper as you hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the ringing sound of brass and rustling incentivize you to rub your thighs together for longing friction, only to have his bare legs intrude again.
He shifted yet his piercing eyes locked deep into yours. “Sacred knowledge means nothing alone. I need to apply the theories. Only then can I find the answers for you.” He leans in and you feel something unfamiliarly hot, coaxing for entrance. “May I purify you?”
You tighten your hold on his broad shoulders, scarred from his previous battles with demons. You never expected him to be so muscular, his stiff white jacket had always modestly concealed his strength. To be truthful, you never expected to see him bare and between your legs either. “Please do whatever it takes to save me, exorcist.” Your breaths are unsteady, unable to remain calm with his hungry yet restrained look. “I don’t care how painful it is or how long it takes. Please purge me from my sins.”
He moistens his lips and takes a shaky breath. Kissing you passionately, he slowly enters. At first, you feel nothing but firm heat as he gently pushes into you. Then you feel a stretching feeling, unfamiliar yet welcoming.
“I-It feels really hot,” you mewl as he continues pushing and bucking against you. “It’s really big . . .”
“Be good,” he murmurs into your ear. “Let me take care of you.”
You hold onto him, whimpering as he is fully sheathed into you. You squirm from the feeling of fullness.
Then he stills and observes your flustered and overwhelmed expression, your hair splayed around you like feathers. He strokes your hair and then your pink cheeks. “Are you okay?”
You nod feverishly. “Don’t stop. I need you, Gavin. Please help me.”
There is a deep rumble in his chest and you feel him twitch inside you. He cradles you, slowly and gently bucking against you again.
“D-Don’t hold back,” you manage between your whimpers. “Punish me for my sins.”
“I refuse to hurt you,” he says, gritting his teeth. His jaw is taunt and his knuckles are white, feebly trying to resist your voice of a mythical siren.
“You asked me what you did to me. I will tell you.” You hold the back of his head still, so he cannot bury his face in your neck to hide. Your panting breaths are beside his ear and his chest rumbles louder. “Once you were inside me, I couldn’t even speak because of how fast you were. You kept going deeper even when there wasn’t any more space left. Even when I had no more energy, you didn’t slow down. You became mad with lust and it only excited me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk for days but I wanted more. You didn’t stop even when you filled me up with so much---”
Suddenly his hands grip your hips and the rapid, deep thrusts make you exclaim in pleasure. He groans as he kisses just as deeply. The bed creaks under the wild movements and the headboard knocks against the wall each time he thrusts. He pulls your thighs closer to him and you gasp, overwhelmed with the sensation of his size and strength. The sound of your skin slapping against his is mixed with your mewls and his groans. He licks the lovebites he left on your neck and chest, dragging his tongue over your feverish, damp skin.
Everything feels too sensitive and you feel a coil tightening within you as he keeps plunging in you, restlessly.
“Gavin,” you moaned. “Ah~don’t stop. I think I’m gonna---” You can’t even finish your thought as you screamed, reaching your climax and all you can see was white for a moment. It feels like a moment in heaven.
He keeps thrusting, prolonging the feeling. He shines with sweat, gleaming like his cross pendant between the planes of his chest. The pendant bounces every time he drives into you. Suddenly, you feel him twitching in you as he finally reaches his own climax. With a hoarse groan, he slumps against you. His chest flattens yours yet his weight is comforting. You can feel a searing hot, thick sensation within you. It feels abundant; there is hardly enough space left to begin with. You are stuffed to the brim yet he does not move. Instead, he pepper kisses all over your collarbone, neck and face. “Are you alright?” he asks when his breathing steadies.
“Mm-hm,” you say but you can predict the after-effects. The soreness has settled but it will return tomorrow and the days afterward.
“Don’t worry,” he says, stroking your hair. “I’ll carry you anywhere you want as compensation.”
You laugh. “Compensation? More like I need to repay you for fulfilling my sinful desires . . .” You trailed off, realizing you have only indulged with lust rather than repel it.
“Don’t frown like that.” He touches his index finger to your lips. “I reached the conclusion that you are not possessed. There’s nothing to worry about. You said you want to be as good as me. And now, I’m equally as good as you.”
You blinked, the dawning realization settling in. “Have I corrupted an exorcist?” You glared. “You said you would purify me. I am never supposed to taint you! What are we going to do now?”
Although your anger is mild, he takes it very seriously as he holds your hand. “Now that we are both equally sinful, don’t ever say we need to part ways. I won’t leave you behind no matter what you say. You repented and I deem that your sins have been forgiven.”
“I’ve only indulged in it,” you whined with dread.
“The exorcism is not complete. This is only the beginning of the theory.”
You blink. “Beginning? And I’m already tired . . .” You pause, deliberating. “I suppose we could continue if it helps---”
He taps you on the nose, chuckling. “You’re becoming bold.” He leans into your ear again. “I might have to try harder next time.”
Your face grows hot once more. “This exorcism seems very counter-intuitive,” you mumble.
“According to my studies, in order to conquer a sin, you must understand the core of that sinister aura.” He rubs your waist, soothing the stiffness. “Since I never had experience, I thought it would’ve been most enlightening if we, ahem, conducted the act itself.”
“Well, then, are you enlightened yet?”
He coughed into his fist. “I have a lot to learn. We might need to do it many more times so I can have the most efficient amount of knowledge to resolve your concern.”
“I don’t feel as heavy anymore now that I confessed about everything and now that we . . .” you trailed off, embarrassed.
“It’s because you don’t feel as much lust anymore,” he murmurs, smiling softly. “The sacred theory is true.”
“What does it state?”
He gazes at you with eyes filled with fondness as if right before him, lays the celestial miracle he seeks for all his life. “Love conquers lust. It always does.” He caressed your cheek. “And I’ve always loved you, right from the very start.”
Your eyes grow glossy and you cradle his face. “And I adore you, Gavin. You are my hero. You’ve protected and saved me so many times. I want to live with you for the rest of my life so I will have all the time to thank you.”
“For the rest of your life?” he echoes. He shifts closer, deeply staring into your eyes. “Will you marry me?”
“Huh? Right now?”
“Mm-hm. So I can always protect you. So from now on, you won’t think this act is sinful between us.” He shifted against you again, a reminder that a part of him that is still buried deep within you. His hand digs under the pillows and he pulls out a small black box. There, a diamond ring lies. “Will you marry me?” he asks again.
How long has he waited? How many nights did he deliberate over it while you had scandalous dreams about him?
Giggling at the thought, you nod. You share another passionate kiss as he slips the ring onto your finger. Such simple acts feel so fulfilling and the burden you carry begins becoming lighter every moment you spend with him.
“This feeling within my heart,” you confess as you finally pull away from him for air. “I feel like I can be good again.”
“You are good. You’ve always been good,” he says then pauses. “But being sinful once in a while is good too.”
You stare at him skeptically. “I don’t believe such a virtuous man would say this.”
He stares at you intently, tightening his hold on your hand. “You can show me your sins only to me. I will accept all of them unconditionally. You must heed my advice as I am the only exorcist for you.”
You playfully nudge his shoulder. “You’re playing with hellfire, Mister Exorcist.”
He moves his waist against yours and you feel the growing hardness again. “Then let’s play some more,” he says, his breaths quickening against your ear. “I won’t back down this time.”
For @xxsycamore's Kinktober Event! Also tagging the two biggest Lucien fans that I know, @writer-lixue and @little-butterfly-writes for this spicy Lucien fic.
If you are under 18, do not read. This work contains sex and other sexual themes. Please also consider blocking the [#not family friendly] tag on my blog because I still will be posting that kind of content.
Prompt: Maid fetish; "I see that you're enjoying my gift."
Lucien sure had his ideals with his aesthetics, but nothing surprised you more than the package at the foot of your bed, with a set of clothes with a familiar black and white frilly dress… and a name card with your name written in Lucien's handwriting.
Of course he knew your measurements. His hands running over your body every time he had you in bed resulted in something. It was a perfect fit even, as you pulled on the lacy white socks over your thighs… Waiting patiently for Lucien to return home, you fiddled with the frilly apron of your maid dress.
Sprawled all over the bed, you couldn't help but wonder about how your lover would take you. Would he run his hands over your socks? Would he flip up your skirt and pound through you, exhausting all his stress into every thrust? Or… would you be taking him down your throat and accepting your master's seed oh so humbly?
" I see that you're enjoying my gift."
You froze in place, hearing the sultry tone of Lucien as he tugged off his coat, his eyes simply darting to every inch of you. You were flushed for sure, with the short skirt not helping your wet patch from the obscene thoughts of Lucien.
"Let me check what you've been doing, love."
Your body responded first before your mind, too used to obeying your Master. He just knew what you were up to, but he was a tease. He wanted to hear it from you. You shuffled closer to the bed, as Lucien briskly removed his belt.
Parting your knees and thighs, you lifted your skirt by the edges, revealing the wet patch that was slowly spreading. Lucien tsked, still appreciating how simply adorable you looked… He'd certainly take his time, but he had that wet pussy he needed to attend to…
The professor, with one hand, pulled your panties down in one fell swoop. The sudden feel of cold air made you shiver, almost losing balance. He tried the waters, the tip of his finger swirling around the wet essence pooling at your centre, before pushing in.
"L-Lucien~" You moaned out, feeling his entire finger slide into your cavern.
The pleasure instantaneously stopped. You panicked, wondering what happened to your reward. You didn't dare to move your hips, with Lucien's steely gaze piercing through you. It wasn't wise to disobey him… your…
"Master?"
He smirked, rubbing your walls with his finger in and out your core at high speeds, spreading your insides as he discretely adds another finger in. His other arm rests behind your hips, supporting you as his lips leans into your collar, kissing and leaving love bites all over your skin…
Lucien's vigorous pumping of his fingers into you brought you to your high, and another high after that… and a third right after. It was when his three fingers pushed against your core you came to your fourth, squirting and making a mess of yourself and Lucien's fingers.
"Oh?"
His voice had no tone of regret, yet no surprise either. Instead, your lover held you in his arms, taking in your well-fucked face as he allowed you to lean into the bed. With one final kiss, he straddled you, unbuttoning the buttons below his collar as he loosened his slacks, his kind smile hiding his feral lust.
