#i couldn’t stop replaying this part

[wollerjoseph]

seafood tower

[bombuni]

this is an odd combination but .. i think an ateez x fallout au would be fun…hmm..

[trevisos]

they make me so fucking sick. GOD

[littlelamy]

a/n: the beginning is loosely based of S4 with rafe and sofia! I’m kinda obsessed with rafe being needy behind close doors 🥵I hope you guys enjoy!

you couldn’t stop replaying his words over and over again in your head. each syllable hit harder, cutting deeper than the last. always running her mouth? what. just a hookup, id never date a pogue.

you stood there, behind the slightly ajar door, heart pounding so loudly you were sure it could be heard. but rafe didn’t notice—he was too busy tearing you down with topper, speaking like you were nothing more than a nuisance in his life. he’d never know how those words would haunt you, how the trust you had in him shattered like glass.

your eyes burned with unshed tears, the sharp sting of betrayal settling into the pit of your stomach. but there was something else bubbling just beneath the surface—rage. not the hot, fiery kind that comes and goes. no, this was colder, more calculated. the type that stews, planning its revenge.

your fingers itched to grab your things and leave, but not without making sure he understood who held the power in this relationship. you weren’t going to walk away defeated, not when you could leave him begging for mercy.

so, instead of running, you turned, heart hardening with each step as you walked back into the room, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled out a suitcase from under the bed.

if he thought he could treat you like this, he was about to learn how wrong he was. you weren’t some weak girl who would let this slide. no, rafe was about to see a side of you he never had before.

the door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, you could hear his confused muttering. "yo, topper, i’ll catch you later."

rafe’s voice rang through the hallway, much closer now, but still carrying the same arrogant tone. you ignored him, hands moving swiftly as you tossed your clothes into the bag, each item thrown more aggressively than the last.

when rafe finally stepped into the room, his eyes immediately fell on you, and panic flickered in his expression. "what the hell are you doing?"

his voice wavered as he took in the scene—your half-packed bag, the angry flush on your cheeks, the tight set of your jaw.

"what does it look like?" you shot back, barely sparing him a glance as you continued packing.

he hesitated, taking a step closer to you, but the sight of your seething rage stopped him in his tracks. "hey, let’s just—let’s talk about this, okay?"

you laughed bitterly, slamming the suitcase shut before finally turning to face him. "oh, now you want to talk?" you snapped, the sharp edge in your voice slicing through the air between you. "funny, because earlier, it seemed like you had plenty to say."

his face paled as realization dawned on him. you watched as his lips parted, searching for words but finding none. for the first time in a long time, rafe cameron was speechless, guilt flooding his features.

"i didn’t—" he started, but you cut him off.

"save it," you hissed, stepping closer to him now, your eyes blazing. "i heard everything, rafe. every. single. word."

rafe’s breath hitched as the full weight of your words crashed down on him. his eyes widened in panic, and he took another shaky step toward you, reaching out as if to touch you, to ground himself in this spiraling nightmare. "i didn’t mean it, baby. i swear, i wasn’t thinking—i was just venting—"

"venting?" you scoffed, stepping back from his touch. "do i look like someone you just 'vent' about, rafe? am i just some girl you get to shit on when i’m not around?" your voice cracked slightly, the hurt bubbling beneath your fury slipping through the cracks.

rafe’s hands trembled as he dropped them to his sides, a strangled sound escaping his throat as he shook his head. "no, no—please, you know i didn’t mean any of that. i was just—" his voice broke, and you watched as his composure started to crumble, tears pooling in his eyes. "i was just talking, okay? i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it. you have to believe me."

but you weren’t about to let him off the hook that easily. your eyes darkened as you stepped even closer to him, your voice dropping to a dangerously low whisper. "if you’re really sorry, rafe, you’re going to have to prove it."

a flicker of hope sparked in his eyes, and he nodded eagerly, desperate to fix what he’d broken. "anything," he breathed, his voice shaky. "i’ll do anything."

you stared him down, watching as he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with nervous anticipation. there was no trace of the cocky, confident rafe now. instead, he was a trembling mess, willing to do whatever it took to keep you from walking out that door.

you grabbed your phone from the dresser, starting the recording and letting the soft beep fill the silence. rafe’s eyes widened as he watched you, confusion and curiosity mixing with the fear in his gaze.

"get on your knees," you ordered, your voice firm, leaving no room for hesitation.

rafe blinked, momentarily stunned by the command, but the second your eyes met his, cold and unwavering, he obeyed. he dropped to his knees before you, looking up with wide, tear-filled eyes. the vulnerability radiating off him was palpable, his breath shaky as he knelt before you, completely at your mercy.

"you don’t get to speak," you warned, holding the phone steady as you circled him slowly, capturing his wide eyes, his trembling hands. "you only get to listen and do what i say."

he nodded quickly, his throat tight with emotion as he blinked away the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

you positioned yourself on the bed, spreading your legs slightly, and gestured for him to come closer. "you know what to do," you said, your tone soft but commanding.

without a moment’s hesitation, rafe shuffled forward on his knees, his eyes glued to your thighs as he leaned in, his lips pressing soft, tentative kisses along your skin. his breath was hot and shaky, the desperation in every touch making your pulse quicken.

"good boy," you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, guiding his mouth exactly where you wanted it. "now, show me how sorry you are."

rafe wasted no time, his tongue flicking against you with a desperation that sent shivers down your spine. his hands gripped your thighs, holding on for dear life as he worked to prove himself, his movements frantic, eager to please.

your head tipped back slightly as a soft sigh escaped your lips, but you quickly regained control, focusing on the phone’s camera in your hand. you adjusted the angle, making sure you captured every second of rafe’s unraveling—his lips swollen and red from the effort, his face flushed, sweat beading on his forehead.

"look at you," you cooed softly, your free hand caressing his cheek. "you’re such a mess for me, aren’t you?"

rafe whimpered in response, the vibrations from his soft sobs sending waves of pleasure through you. his eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his face harder against you, the tears finally spilling over and streaming down his cheeks.

you could feel the shift in him—the way his body trembled beneath your touch, the way his breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps. he was breaking, right in front of you, and the sight sent a surge of power through your veins.

"don’t stop," you whispered, your fingers tugging on his hair as his pace quickened, his tongue working furiously. "not until i say so."

rafe let out a choked sob, his tears soaking into your skin as he continued, his movements growing sloppier, more desperate. you glanced down at him, the sight of his tear-streaked face and swollen lips sending a rush of heat through you.

"you’re mine," you whispered, your voice dripping with possession as you tilted his face up slightly, capturing the tear that rolled down his cheek with your thumb. "and you’ll never forget it."

rafe’s body shuddered at your words, a strangled moan escaping his lips as he clung to you, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. another tear slipped down his face, and you leaned down, your lips brushing against his cheek, kissing the tear away.

you recorded it all, making sure you caught the exact moment rafe broke for you, his body trembling beneath your touch as he whimpered your name.

"please," he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "i’m yours. i’ll never leave you. i love you. please…don’t leave me."

his words were slurred, thick with emotion, and you smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair in a soothing motion.

"good boy," you whispered, pressing one last kiss to his temple as his body finally collapsed against you, completely spent and vulnerable.

slowly, you stopped recording. rafe barely noticed, his head resting against your thigh, still trying to steady his breathing. his tear-streaked face was a picture of surrender.

you stood up, gently pushing him off you, and his body slumped against the mattress, too weak to even protest. you didn’t say a word as you picked up your phone, your fingers tapping with practiced precision.

rafe watched through bleary eyes, his chest still rising and falling with uneven breaths, the reality of the situation not quite sinking in yet.

the video—the raw, intimate recording of rafe at his most vulnerable—was right there, in your hand. the smirk playing at your lips deepened as you attached it to a group chat, the names of topper, kelce, and several other friends flashing across the screen. rafe’s inner circle, the same ones he was so eager to talk big around. they’d all see this.

and then, for the final touch. your fingers hovered over the keyboard for just a moment before typing: looks like the pogue got your boy.

the message was delivered, the little ‘sent’ confirmation making your heart race with satisfaction. the power was now entirely in your hands, and you relished the silence that followed, the calm before the inevitable storm.

rafe blinked, finally realizing what had happened as he noticed the shift in your demeanor. “w-what did you do?” his voice was small, trembling with fear as his eyes darted from your phone to your face, dread sinking in fast.

you leaned down, brushing a lock of hair out of his face with surprising gentleness, and a sweet peck on his lips. “just reminding you who really holds the power here, rafe,” you whispered softly, your voice laced with a wicked edge. “you thought you could talk shit about me behind my back? guess again.”

rafe’s eyes widened as he tried to sit up, his body weak and uncoordinated. “no, no, no—what did you send? please, baby, please!” he pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation.

you straightened up, staring down at him, your smile never faltering. “i sent a little reminder to all your friends. they’ll see it soon enough.”

he scrambled to reach for his phone, but it was too late. his friends were already watching the video, seeing him like they’d never seen him before—broken, crying, at your feet, worshiping you. and with that message—looks like the pogue got your boy—they’d know he wasn’t the powerful rafe cameron anymore. not with you around.

rafe’s breath hitched, panic surging through his veins as his phone buzzed incessantly on the bedside table. “no,” he whimpered, tears spilling over again, pure terror flashing in his eyes as he looked up at you, utterly helpless, still with a needy gaze.

you bent down one last time, tilting his chin up so he could meet your gaze, your thumb gently brushing against his swollen lips. “next time you even think about talking behind my back,” you whispered, “remember this moment. because there’s more where that came from.”

with that, you walked away, leaving rafe alone in the room, his phone lighting up with messages from his friends, the weight of his humiliation crushing him.

you didn’t even glance back as the door clicked shut behind you, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

you owned him now. completely.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[dazevi]

baby, can i? | vi x fem!reader, fluff, smut (18+ mdni) wc: 6k

synopsis: vi guides you through your first time. | masterlist

content warnings: modern au!, tiniest mention of hockey player!vi, virgin!reader/inexperienced!reader, experienced!vi, soft top!vi, needy vi, nsfw/smut; consent is sexy!!!!!!, kissing/making out, little bit of perverted vi, soft sex, fingering and oral (r!receiving) slight overstim, bit of praise kink for both reader and vi, a little sappy tbh

note: ok wait this actually is really sappy/cheesy/whatver ummm but i hope u like it (also i might be on a writers high a little bit > got a request for bartender!vi andi am very excited to write about it)

It was all innocent at first—a movie you chose playing on the TV in Vi’s apartment, her chin resting lightly on your shoulder, her thumbs gently brushing circles against your sides, and ever so often, her lips grazing the top of your head in fleeting, soft kisses. You were tucked between her legs, your back resting against her chest, and her arms were securely wrapped around your waist possessively, not wanting you to move away from her.

You were watching the movie—or at least, you were trying to.

But Vi wasn’t making it easy.

She’d been unusually affectionate all evening, her hands sneaking under the hem of your sweater to rest directly on your skin. They weren’t wandering; she wasn’t teasing you like she sometimes did.

No, this was different.

Her fingers were just there, pressed against your stomach as if she needed to feel the warmth of you. She was quiet, which wasn’t unusual when she was in one of these soft, clingy moods, but you could feel her every breath against your back, her chest rising and falling steadily. In different minutes, she would shift slightly, her legs tensing around you as if she were adjusting, but really, you knew it was just an excuse to pull you closer.

“Comfy?” she asked after a while, her voice low and soft in your ear.

“Mhm,” you murmured back, turning your head slightly to look at her.

She only smiled.

“What?” You smiled back, a soft giggle falling from your lips.

Vi shook her head, placing a tiny kiss to your shoulder, “Nothing.”

She was so close, her face inches from yours, her eyes glinting in the flickering light of the TV. There was a small smile tugging at her lips, and when she caught you looking at her, she tilted her head, her expression softening in a way that made your heart flutter.

Vi had been head over heels for you from the start, though she’d never admit how fast it all happened.

She prided herself on being smooth, confident, and a little cocky—someone who always knew how to flirt, how to charm, how to make the girls swoon. And it worked for her, for the most part. Vi had never struggled to get attention; her charm, confidence, and maybe sometimes even her muscles, did most of the talking before she even opened her mouth.

But none of that prepared her for you.

When you first started dating, Vi tried to play it cool. She told herself she’d keep it casual, keep things easy. But then you smiled at her like she’d hung the moon, and that was it. Vi fell hard—headfirst, without a parachute—and it terrified her.

She couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying every moment you spent together like they were the best scenes in a movie she never wanted to end. Every time you laughed, her chest felt too tight, like her heart was trying to claw its way out of her ribcage just to reach you. She didn’t even realize how deep she was in until one day she caught herself thinking about you in the middle of practice, her teammates yelling her name because she’d missed the puck for the third time.

She told herself it wasn’t a big deal. People fell in love all the time, right?

Right?

And that scared her more than anything. Because Vi wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable. She was used to being in control, to calling the shots, to knowing exactly where she stood. But with you, she felt like she was walking a tightrope, one misstep away from falling so deep she might never recover. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Because as much as you terrified her, you also made her feel alive in ways she never thought possible.

And for the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid to admit that someone else had her completely, utterly, helplessly wrapped around their finger.

And, truth be told, you’re not exactly experienced when it came to sex.

The first time you told her, it took Vi by surprise.

She had been getting touchy one day, as she always did when she was around you, teasing you with little brushes of her fingers against your skin, her lips grazing your neck as she whispered something playful in your ear. She could sense the way you tensed up, not in a way that made her think you were uncomfortable, but… uncertain.

“I—uh, I’m not really… experienced with all this,” you had admitted, your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, eyes glancing away, as if ashamed to even say it aloud. “I’ve never… done it with someone before.”

Vi froze, her breath caught in her throat.

She hadn’t expected it—hadn’t thought that you might be nervous about something so natural to her. Vi had been with plenty of people, experienced in more ways than one, but she’d never really stopped to think about someone who was new to it all, someone who might feel hesitant or unsure. She paused, but then the softest smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she looked at you softly.

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle as she cupped your face with her hand, guiding your gaze back to hers. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, okay? I’m not in a rush. We’ll go at your pace, baby.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your stomach still there, but hearing her words made it feel a little easier to breathe. She didn’t judge you. She didn’t make you feel small for being inexperienced. She understood your vulnerability because, in a way, she felt it too.

“I’m really into you,” Vi had said, her voice soft but sincere. “All I care about is being with you. So, if we go slow—if you need time—then we go slow. I’m not going anywhere.”

She kept her word.

She let you set the pace, kissed you slow and gentle, her hands always asking for permission before they moved anywhere further. When you’d get nervous, when you’d pull back, she’d smile at you, brushing your hair from your face, whispering how beautiful you were, how much she liked being close to you. She was kind of shocked herself. She had the patience to listen, the kind of patience she’d never thought she’d have for anyone, but for you? She’d have it for a lifetime if you needed her to.

But god, sometimes, it was really fucking hard.

She wanted to fuck you so bad.

Vi was, above all else, just a woman—a woman with desires that had been left unchecked for far too long. Everything you did made her heart race, made her head spin. You were so fucking pretty. It was almost unbearable. Vi wanted to get lost in you, wanted to feel her lips all over your skin, wanted to explore every inch of you until she knew you as well as she knew herself.

And she respected your boundaries more than anything. She wanted you to feel safe with her, to feel cherished, to feel like there was no rush.

But god, it was hard.

Every time you turned to her and smiled that soft, shy smile, when your fingers brushed against hers so innocently, it felt like you were silently asking for more—though you weren’t. The way you looked at her sometimes, the way you held her gaze when your lips brushed against hers, made it nearly impossible to keep herself in check.

In different situations, at a party, or even just in her apartment or yours, she’d excuse herself for a moment, retreating to the bathroom or something, just to compose herself. She’d close her eyes and huff a hard and heavy sigh, shamelessly picture it all in her head until it drove her insane. Then, she’d go back to you, a bit more touchy and loving, standing even closer than before, unable to get her eyes to look away from you. She’d smile that charming smile of hers when you turn to look at her and tell you it was nothing—even though it wasn’t nothing. Not when her eyes would keep falling to your soft lips, her hands itching at her sides to touch you in places people aren’t allowed to see, and her jaw clenching at the sight of you in such a pretty dress or whatever outfit you decided to put together that day.

Vi wasn’t perfect. Sometimes, she was just someone who wanted to touch you, to hold you, to feel your body pressed against hers. Every time you looked up at her, those soft eyes that sparkled when they met hers, she couldn’t help but think how much she wanted to kiss you, to make you feel as good as you made her feel.

But she holds herself back every time. And she’s quite proud of herself, actually.

Tonight, though, something felt different.

Vi couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt it deep in her bones. It wasn’t just the heat in the room or the way the soft glow of the TV flickered against your skin. It was the how you’d been leaning into her a little more tonight, just enough for her to notice the subtle shift in your body. And it wasn’t like before, when you’d shift away slightly or look at her with wide, hesitant eyes, unsure of the closeness.

Tonight, you didn’t do that. You leaned in closer.

Vi’s heart skipped a beat as she felt the warmth of your body pressing against hers. Her breath caught, the movie fading into the background as her attention narrowed to you. To the way your body fit so perfectly against hers. Her hand, which had been lazily resting on your waist, hands underneath your sweater, now slid lower, just a little bit—no big deal, just a gentle touch—but the way you didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, made her pulse race. You didn’t look uncomfortable.

In fact, you looked like you were… waiting. Like you wanted her to touch you more.

Vi wasn’t one to back down from anything, but she had always been patient with you. Yet tonight, she felt the urge to push those boundaries just a little. Her fingertips slid from your waist to your hip, feeling the curve of you, the warmth of your skin beneath the soft fabric of your shirt.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you still didn’t pull away. Instead, your back arched just enough for her to notice, and your eyes flickered up to meet hers. That same shy smile of yours tugged at her heartstrings.

You didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Vi could swear there was something more in your gaze—something that matched the heat she felt rising inside her.

She could feel her chest tighten with as thoughts of you—only you—filled her mind.

She wanted you. So badly.

Her breath came out in soft, breathless whimpers, and your name—your sweet, simple name—fell from her lips like a prayer.

“Baby…” she whispered against you, closing her eyes and letting out soft sigh.

It was so desperate, so soft.

There was no mistaking the need in her voice, the way her breath quickened, the raw hunger she was trying so hard to control, to be gentle with you, but it was obvious to you now that she was practically using every bone in her body to stay patient.

You could feel it in every inch of her, in the way her hands trembled just slightly, in the way her breath hitched as shelingered just out of reach of the place you both knew she desperately wanted to touch.

She dropped her head to your shoulder, her forehead resting gently against the soft curve of your neck as if she was trying to hide her feelings, to keep herself under control, but you could feel it in the way her body tensed, in the way her hands hovered close to you, shaking with the effort of keeping her restraint. She was trying so hard to stay composed, to be gentle, but it was clear she was on the edge, barely holding it together.

She wanted you. Needed you. And her restraint was slipping away with every passing second.

“Vi…”

At the sound of your voice, so soft and gentle, Vi’s gaze snapped up to meet yours. Her eyes were wide, waiting, like she’d been waiting for this moment, for you to say something—anything—to pull her back in. She looked almost like a puppy, the look on her face soft and eager, her lips slightly parted as if she were holding her breath, waiting for you to speak again.

She searched your eyes desperately, wanting to know what you were thinking, what you wanted, because nothing else mattered more.

“I’m here,” she breathed out, her voice barely more than a whisper.

She wanted you to know she was all in—her mind, her body, her heart. She was yours. And in that moment, it felt like nothing could tear her away from you.

“What do you need, baby?” she asked, the words falling from her lips desperately. “Tell me… please.”

Vi’s breath caught in her throat the moment you turned to face her, your eyes locking with hers as if everything else in the room disappeared. The movie was long forgotten by now and for a split second, Vi forgot how to breathe. God, you were so fucking pretty. She couldn’t help but melt as you reached up to gently brush a strand of her hair from her face.

She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to let out a shaky breath as you leaned in, your lips brushing against hers in the softest kiss she’d ever felt. It was sweet, but there was something more beneath it—something deeper.

You pulled away just enough for Vi to feel the coldness of the space left between you, and she immediately chased after your lips like a starved thing, her breath coming quicker, hands gripping your waist. Every inch of her body begged for you, aching to feel you pressed against her, to get closer, to melt into you until nothing else existed. She wanted more—needed more.

And then, your voice, soft and quiet, broke through the haze of her thoughts.

“I want you, Vi…” you whispered.

Your words were soft, almost shy, but they sent a wave of heat crashing through Vi’s chest. Her breath hitched at the sound of your voice, her heart racing even faster.

It was all she needed to hear.

She was lost in you, in the way you made her feel. She melted against you, her hands roaming up your sides, pulling you closer, her lips finding yours once again. This time, it was deeper, needier. She wanted you, more than she’d ever wanted anyone before. Every kiss, every touch, felt like it was both too much and not enough. Vi pulled you closer into her lap, her arms wrapping around you tightly as if she never wanted to let go.

“Fuck,” she whispered, voice shaky, a low groan escaping her throat as she pulled you even closer, her hands cupping the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

You could feel it—the heat building low in your stomach, the wetness pooling in your panties, spreading through your body in waves with every touch of Vi’s hands on your skin. Her grip was firm, her fingers tracing the curve of your waist like she was trying to memorize you. You gasped softly as she shifted you higher in her arms. It was impossible not to react to her—the way she looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, the way her voice dropped low and raspy when she whispered your name.

Vi couldn’t focus on anything else but you—your soft breath against her lips, your body pressed so close to hers, the way your fingers brushed against her skin. The movie was nothing but background noise now, and all she could think about how you felt, how you tasted, and how much she wanted you.

Without even realizing what she was doing, Vi pulled you closer, your legs straddling her waist. She could feel the weight of your body, the warmth of your skin, and the softness of your touch. You were everything she wanted and more, and Vi’s breath caught as she watched your eyes flicker with the same heat, the same desire that had been building for what felt like forever.

“Need you…” she whimpered, her voice low and needy, her hands already moving to settle more firmly around your waist.

She didn’t give you a moment to think before she stood up, lifting you with ease, her strong arms, muscles flexing, supporting you as if you weighed nothing, as if she’d done this a thousand times before.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around her waist, your arms around her neck, and the heat of your body pressed against hers, the way you fit perfectly, like you were made to be in her arms. She could feel your pulse against her chest, your body trembling just slightly as she carried you through her apartment, heading toward the one place that she knew would be safe—her bedroom.

Vi’s hands moved carefully as she gently laid you down against her bed, her touch lingering on your waist for just a moment longer than necessary. Her body hovered over yours, but she didn’t lean in right away. She paused instead, pulling back slightly to look at you. And god, the way she looked at you—it was like nothing else existed in the world except for you.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks under her gaze, her eyes roaming your face. Vi wasn’t in a rush now, even if her body ached for you. She could feel her heart pounding, her breath uneven as she just… stared. You looked so fucking pretty, she thought, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Her hands moved absently as she tugged at the hem of her own shirt, a random band tee she got on one of her birthdays, pulling it off in one quick motion and tossing it to the side without a second thought. Her toned body caught your attention immediately, and you felt your breath hitch as your eyes lingered on the taut muscles of her arms and the faint scars across her torso. But Vi didn’t even notice… not when her focus was entirely on you. She leaned back slightly, giving herself just enough room to drink you in.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, like the words weren’t meant for you to hear but spilled out anyway.

She reached for you again, her hands sliding over your waist as her thumbs brushed over your hips, thumbs tugging slightly on your shorts. Her mind was spinning, her heart hammering in her chest as she hovered over you. The reality of the moment hit her hard, making her stomach flip over and over.

Is this really happening? she thought, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on either side of your waist. Her throat tightened as she struggled to process it all. You’re really going to let me do this? You’re really trusting me like this?

She swallowed hard, her cheeks burning as her eyes roamed over your face. You were looking up at her with so much trust, and it was almost too much for her. Her chest ached in the best way, and a nervous, breathless laugh almost bubbled out of her throat. Vi was confident—she always had been—but this? This was something else entirely. This was someone she adored more than she could put into words, giving her something so special, so intimate, that she started to question if she even deserved it.

What did I do to deserve this? she thought, her mind racing. What did I do to deserve her?

Her palms grew clammy, nervous, and for a split second, she wondered if she was going to pass out from sheer excitement. Her head was spinning with a thousand thoughts—how to take her time, how to make it perfect, how to make sure you felt as loved and cherished as you deserved, as you made her feel.

“Vi,” you whispered softly, and she blinked, her trance breaking for just a moment as her eyes locked with yours.

Your breath caught as you reached up, your fingers gently brushing against her cheek. And as she dipped her head down, her lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss, you knew you were ready.

Vi’s fingers trembled slightly as they toyed with the hem of your shirt as she pulled back from the kiss for a moment. Her eyes darted between yours and the fabric she was clutching, her lips parted as though she was trying to find the right words.

Finally, she managed to ask, her voice low and almost shy, “Can I take this off?”

The eagerness in your nod made her breath hitch, and a soft, breathless laugh escaped her lips, sounding almost disbelieving.

“Okay,” she muttered under her breath, her cheeks pink and her grin wide as she tugged at your shirt gently, pulling it over your head.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered, her voice almost reverent as her hands came to rest gently on your waist again.

And she… stared again. Here eyes traced every curve and dip of your exposed skin. Her lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. You blushed hard as the seconds pass, squirming slightly under her gaze, biting your lip as you glanced away, feeling shy.

“Vi… Stop looking at me like that,” you mumbled, your voice soft, barely above a whisper, but Vi didn’t listen.

Instead, she laughed, lie and warm, and dropped her head to your shoulder. Her strong arms wrapped around your waist as she held you close, her breath warm against your skin.

“Sorry, baby… Can you blame me?” she murmured, her breath tickling your neck as she continued, “I’ve got the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen… looking up at me… waiting for me…”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but smile, even as you playfully shoved at her shoulder.

“Shut up,” you teased, though your voice betrayed the way your heart fluttered in your chest.

She smiled cheekily and lifted her head just enough to press a quick kiss to your neck, her lips lingering for a second longer than necessary. Her hands moved with softly as they slipped to the waistband of your shorts, her fingers brushing against your skin so lightly it sent shivers up your spine. She paused for a moment, as if giving you the chance to stop her, her gaze flickering back up to meet yours.

When you didn’t protest, only nodding softly with a nervous but eager look in your eyes, Vi let out a small, breathy laugh, the sound filled with both excitement and disbelief.

“Wanna make you feel good,” she murmured, more to herself than to you, and then she began to tug your shorts down your legs slowly.

Her calloused fingers grazed against the soft skin of your thighs as she worked them down. She didn’t rush, like she wanted to savor the moment, the sight of you beneath her, the way your breath hitched every time her fingers skimmed too close. She let the fabric fall to the floor before leaning back slightly, taking you in with wide, almost awestruck eyes.

“Perfect,” she whispered, her voice low and thick with emotion. Her hands rested on your knees, gently spreading them apart just enough for her to slip between your legs.

Her breath hitched as her eyes lingered on the damp spot on your panties. Her lips parted slightly, her tongue brushing over them. Her hands trembled just a little as she reached up, fingers grazing the straps of your bra.

“Let me,” she murmured, her voice low and soft.

You nodded, cheeks flushing as Vi carefully unhooked your bra and helped slide it off your shoulders. She tossed it aside, but her focus stayed entirely on you. Her gaze roamed over your tits, her hands smoothing up your sides. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your chest, then another lower, and another, her lips trailing down the valley between your breasts.

“My beautiful girl,” she whispered against your skin, her voice filled with awe and something deeper—something that made your heart race. Her kisses became firmer, needier, and you felt her nose nuzzle against the swell of your tits as she breathed you in, the pads of her thumbs softly rolling over your hard nipples.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh, your fingers threading through her short pink hair as her mouth moved lower, leaving hickeys as she went. Vi looked up at you briefly, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted as though she was about to say something. But instead, she simply smiled—soft and a little smug—and leaned back in, pressing another kiss to your lips that made your toes curl.

Vi’s voice was barely above a whisper, soft and warm against your skin as her fingers toyed with the hem of your panties.

“Can I?” she asked, her thumbs hooked around the waistband, tugging gently, as though she was testing your reaction before going any further.

Her gaze flicked up to meet yours, her blue eyes searching, waiting for your answer. You nodded slowly, the movement almost shy, and Vi let out a soft, shaky breath, her lips curving into the faintest smile.

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly.

“Yes, please…”

She smiled and hummed, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. Her fingers moved carefully, sliding your panties down your hips and over your legs, and the moment they were gone, she tossed them aside, her eyes never leaving you.

“I love you…” she murmured so quietly as she leaned back in, her hands settling on your thighs, pushing them apart to get a better look at your pussy. “So pretty…”

She pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, her lips lingering, her breath warm against your skin. Her hands, strong but gentle, rested on your knees as she eased them further apart, creating even more space for herself.

Her lips lingered just above your skin, her warm breath fanning against you as she whispered, “You’ll tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

You looked down at her, her face framed by the dim light filtering in, her pink hair tousled and her eyes staring with need and want, waiting for permission.

“I will,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. Your fingers instinctively moved to thread through her hair, pulling her just a little closer. “I trust you, Vi.”

Vi smiled softly at your words, and the sight made your chest tighten.

“That’s my girl,” she whispered, her lips brushing your skin again, and then she kissed you, slow and deep, as her hands moved to hold your thighs, her thumbs tracing lazy circles over your skin.

Her breath hitched as her fingers dipped lower, finally brushing against the wetness that had been teasing her imagination all night. When she felt just how slick you were, her chest rose and fell with a shuddering sigh, her lips parting in awe.

“Fuck…” she whispered, her voice breaking softly as she let the sensation sink in.

Her forehead rested briefly against your thigh, and you could feel the way her breath trembled, betraying just how much she’d been holding back. You squirmed beneath her touch, your breath catching at the slow pressure of her fingers as she explored you. She looked up at you then, her eyes heavy-lidded.

“You’re so wet,” she whispered.

Her fingers teased along your folds, and when she finally slid one inside, the quiet, shaky groan that escaped her lips sent a jolt of heat through you. Your soft moan filled the room, and it sent a shiver straight down Vi’s spine. The way you reacted to her touch, the way your body seemed to move with hers—it was intoxicating. She couldn’t stop herself from curling her finger inside of your pussy, and the sound you made in response nearly undid her completely.

“Tell me how it feels,” she said softly, her eyes searching yours as her finger moved slowly, her thumb grazing over your skin. “I wanna know… everything.”

Your voice came out in a shaky breath, soft and airy as you tried to keep up with the overwhelming sensations.

“F-feels good, Vi—” you managed to whisper, your hands gripping at the sheets beneath you.

Vi’s breath hitched at your words, a flicker of pride and hunger lighting in her chest. She wanted to do good. For you. She paused only for a moment, her eyes never leaving your face as she carefully added another finger. The stretch was new, different, and it made you gasp sharply, your body tensing for just a second before melting into her bedsheets.

“Yeah?” Vi asked, her voice low and raspier now, almost shaking with how much she wanted to do this right, to make you feel good.

Her lips brush over the soft skin of your inner thigh as she fucked her fingers deeper into your pussy, curling just right. Your moans spilled out, filling the room, and Vi felt her entire body tremble with excitement.

“God, you’re so tight,” she groaned, her movements growing a little more confident as she found a pace that made your hips buck and your head fall back.

She quickened her pace, completely entranced by you. The way your face twisted in pleasure—cheeks flushed, mouth parted with those soft moans—sent a bolt of heat straight through her. She couldn’t look away.

She whimpered softly as her thumb circled your clit, drawing a sharp gasp from you that sent a wave of pride through her. But what really did her in was how fucking wet you were, the way it coated her fingers, the lewd squelching sounds filling the room with every thrust. Her mouth went dry, and her stomach flipped as she watched her fingers disappear inside you over and over again.

“Oh, fuck,” Vi murmured, her voice husky and low, almost as if she were talking to herself. “You’re so—so wet… baby, I—”

She cut herself off with a groan, unable to even form a coherent sentence, too lost in how good you felt clenching around her fingers. Her thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your back arching and your hands clawing at the sheets.

You looked so fucking pretty, it made her head spin.

Vi’s breath was shaky as she moved her fingers faster, desperate to pull you over the edge. Her thumb never faltered, pressing and circling your clit with just the right pressure.

She leaned closer, her forehead brushing yours, her voice soft but needy as she whimpered, “Tell me how good it feels, baby. Please… I need to hear you.”

Your moans spilled from your lips like music to her ears. She couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t slow down—not when she felt the way your wet pussy fluttered around her fingers, not when she could see how close you were.

“It’s so good, Vi—oh my god, it feels so good,” you managed to gasp, your voice breaking as your hips bucked against her hand.

Her focus entirely fixated on you, on the way your body responded to her touch. Her biceps flexed with every thrust into your pussy, the veins in her arms standing out as she poured herself into the task of making you fall apart. She groaned softly as she watched her fingers disappear into you, only to reappear glistening and slick before plunging back inside. The sound of it—the wet squelch—had her nearly delirious.

“So fucking pretty like this, baby.”

Her pace quickened, her fingers curling with precision, hitting that spot that had your back arching off the mattress. Your moans grew louder, less controlled, and Vi swore she could feel your body trembling as your thighs quivered against her.

“V-Vi! I-I’m gonna… cum! Gonna cum—“

“That’s it, pretty girl,” she rasped, her lips parted as she leaned closer, her forehead brushing against your stomach. She looked up briefly, her eyes dark as she took in the sight of you. “You’re so close—I can feel it. Cum for me, yeah? Please, I need to feel you.”

And then it happened.

Your body arched, your moans spilling out in broken cries as you clenched tightly around her fingers. Vi groaned loudly, the sound guttural and needy, as she felt you come undone around her. But she didn’t stop—not yet. Her fingers kept moving, her thumb circling your clit as she worked you through every wave of pleasure, desperate to draw it out for as long as she could.

“Fuck, that’s it,” she whispered, her voice shaky and reverent. “You’re so good for me, baby. So, so good.”

Vi let out a breath, a soft sigh of disbelief, as she pulled her fingers from you slowly after she let you ride out your high, her gaze never leaving your face. Her fingers were glistening with your cum, and she couldn’t help but stare in awe. The way you looked—completely undone, lost in pleasure—had her feeling like she was floating, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in.

Blue eyes traced the curve of your body, watching the way your skin glistened with sweat. She couldn’t help it—her mind blanked, a single thought echoing through her: God, she’s so fucking pretty. She was overwhelmed, feeling like she could never get enough of you, of the way your body responded to her, how perfect you were in her eyes, like you were made just for this. Every movement, every little breath, it was all just… mesmerizing.

She brought her fingers up and slid slowly them into her mouth, her gaze never leaving you as she savored the taste of you on her tongue. Oh, fuck! She needed more. Without thinking, her hands moved quickly, spreading your thighs further apart and her voice came out in a soft, needy whisper.

“Gotta taste you… just real quick,” she murmured so quietly, you barely heard it.

A gasp escaped your lips before you could process anything else, your body already reacting before your mind caught up. Instinctively, your fingers tangled in the strands of Vi’s pink hair, pulling hard, making her groan right into your wet pussy.

This was when you learned that Violet was a messy eater.

Her tongue pressed against folds, inside of you, occasionally sucking around your clit, the feeling of her mouth, wet and needy, sent a shiver through you. You couldn’t help but notice how she lost herself, her sounds louder and messier than you’d expected—like she was devouring you. She slurped everything up and you could feel yourself dripping and soaking her bedsheets beneath you.

God, her tongue felt so fucking good. It was almost too good. Fuck, she’s so good at this.

“V-Vi—” you cried out, your voice trembling, but she didn’t seem to hear you.

You tugged at her hair to let her know you were close, that you were going to cum again, and she didn’t slow down. If anything, it only spurred her on, her mouth sucking and slurping more and more, faster and harder. You cried out, the tension building in your lower body, and before you could even process it, she quickened her pace, her hands shifting from your thighs to intertwine with yours. The way she gripped your hand made you feel like she was holding you in place, ensuring you couldn’t pull away, even if you tried.

“I-I’m cumming again—Fuck—Vi-Violet!”

With a final gasp, your body tensed, waves of pleasure crashing over you. The wave hit you all at once, and you came right on her tongue, your breath ragged, moans slipping from your lips uncontrollably. Vi held you through it, her grip on your hand tightening, her tongue slowing down on your pussy.

After a while, she finally lifted her head up and looked at you, her eyes half-lidded and hazy with exhaustion, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. Her face was flushed, her skin slick with sweat, and her chin glistened with your cum, like she was wearing it with pride.

She moved slowly, her lips trailing up your body. Her kisses were gentle at first, but the further she traveled, the more urgent they became, each one pressing deeper against your skin, right over each mark and hickey are left behind earlier. She kissed your stomach, your ribs, each kiss a little firmer, a little more hungry, until she reached your chest, her breath mingling with the heat of your skin.

When she finally reached your neck, she paused, her breath shaky against your skin, and you felt the faintest tremor under her fingertips. Then, without warning, she was kissing you again, her lips pressing against yours with a hunger that mirrored the one she’d just left between your legs, whimpering and moaning right into your mouth. You could taste yourself on her lips, a faint sweetness that made your pulse quicken all over again.

When the kiss broke, both of you were breathless, your lips swollen and tingling. Vi pulled back slightly, her eyes heavy-lidded, a soft smile playing on her lips as she gazed down at you.

“I love you,” she said.

You barely caught your breath, the lingering aftershocks from everything that had just passed through your body.

“I love you, too,” you managed to say, the words coming out breathlessly.

Her smile softened, her gaze melting into something tender as she stared down at you.

She bit her lower lip nervously before asking, “Did I do okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile lovingly at her, your heart swelling with affection. Without a word, your hands reached up to brush the mess of pink hair from her face, the softness of the gesture grounding you both in the moment. Her hair was tangled, strands sticking to her skin, but she was beautiful—more than beautiful, especially in this moment where everything felt real and raw.

“It felt… so good, Violet… You were perfect,” you whispered.

She held your gaze, her eyes flickering relief and pride. You leaned up slightly, brushing your lips against her forehead in a tender kiss, as if to reinforce what you’d just said. Perfect. In every way.

Vi’s lips curled into a smug, satisfied smile as she heard you, and you couldn’t help but notice the gleam in her eyes—proud, almost playful, like she knew exactly what she had just done to you. Without missing a beat, she leaned down, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your neck. She let herself collapse on top of you, her body heavy and warm, her muscles wrapping around you firmly. She nuzzled her face into your neck, her breath warm against your skin, close to your ear.

“I… I’m gonna let you rest, but…” Her voice was quiet, almost shy. She paused, just for a moment, before continuing, her words sending a thrill through you, “I wanna go again...“

You looked up at her, eyes widening slightly as you tried to catch your breath. Your arms wrapped around her loosely around her neck, your fingers brushing the hairs at the back of her head. Vi sighed at the feeling, closing her eyes for a brief moment before opening them again to look at you, to plead with her eyes.

“Can we?”

That playful, confident side of her was back again, and you knew then, with absolute certainty, that you were in for a very long night.

thank u for reading :) | masterlist

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1260 words

series masterlist ; main masterlist this is part one of this blurb! the next part will be smut! this was supposed to one whole blurb, but unfortunately, i can't stop adding details

A week had passed since that toe-curling, heart stopping kiss with James, yet the memory clung to you, refusing to loosen its grip. Every moment replayed in your mind—the way his breath had mingled with yours, the warmth of his lips, the intoxicating mix of hesitation and desire that had crackled between you. It was impossible to shake, no matter how hard you tried to push it to the back of your mind.

But life, as it often does, had intervened. Work had been intense for both of you. His late nights at the office, followed by early morning school drop-offs, and your endless deadlines and marathon meetings had drained you both, leaving little room for anything else—especially the conversation you so desperately needed.

But you were hoping tonight would be different. He’d asked if you could watch Henry, and you’d never refused him before. And you weren’t about to start now.

“Darling?” Henry mumbled, his voice carrying that endearing tone that always made you smile. As he grew older, the nickname was losing its childish lisp, becoming clearer and more deliberate with each passing day. You couldn’t let yourself dwell on it, knowing it would bring you to tears. And as much as it weighed on you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how James was feeling.

“Yeah, my love?” You hummed, your eyes still fixed on The Rescuers playing on the TV. Henry had insisted on watching it in James’s room because he wanted to “see the mice all big.” At first, you hesitated, unsure if being surrounded by James’s scent was a good idea. But Henry’s excitement was impossible to resist, and you found yourself giving in, despite your nerves.

“When is daddy back?”

“Um,” You glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand. “Soon I would think.”

“Oh.” Henry murmurs, shifting closer to cuddle into your side, his tiny hand reaching out to grasp yours. The two of you are nestled under the dark duvet, surrounded by the seven stuffed animals he insisted on bringing along. “I miss him,” he whispers, his voice tinged with quiet sadness.

“I’m sure he misses you too.” You say, offering him a gentle smile. He looks up at you with those unmistakable eyes—his father’s eyes—brown and sweet, carrying the same warmth that James’ have. His dark curls fall messily across his forehead, a mirror of James’s unruly hair. Even the curve of his smile, so innocent yet so familiar, pulls at your heart. It’s impossible not to see James in every feature, every expression, and every little gesture Henry makes. 

All you can think about is James.

“Do you miss daddy?” Your lips part, flustered and caught off guard by the question. For a second you debate lying, but you realize there’s no point. 

“Yes, I miss him too.” You finally murmur, and Henry’s face lights up with a grin, as if he’s just heard the most wonderful thing. He turns his gaze back to the TV, his attention returning to the movie, while he snuggles his stuffed dinosaur tightly in the hand that isn’t holding yours. The sight of him, so content and secure, tugs at your heart.

The movie has long finished and another has begun, but you’re oblivious to it all. Henry is fast asleep, nestled into your side, and you’re not far behind. Your focus is solely on threading your fingers gently through Henry’s dark curls. The rhythmic motion that had soothed him to sleep now lulls you as well, your eyes growing heavy with each tender stroke.

“Hey.” James murmurs with a warm, inviting smile, immediately drawing your gaze to the doorway where he stands. His white button-up shirt is casually open at the collar, the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and as he crosses his arms, the fabric tightens over his biceps, accentuating their firm definition. Your eyes slowly trace down to his forearms, where the veins are subtly prominent. The combination of his relaxed stance and the his snug shirt makes your pulse quicken.

You resist the urge to fan yourself.

You swallow hard, struggling to pull your gaze back up. “Hi,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grins, and you know instantly he’s caught you. “What are you two doing in here?” He asks, walking further into his room, glancing down at the stuffies with a soft chuckle

“Henry missed you,” You say softly. “That and he wanted to watch a movie on the big TV.”

“Of course he did.” James says with a soft, knowing tone. He rounds the bed and settles next the side closest to Henry. With a gentle touch, he brushes a few stray curls from his son’s forehead, his fingers lingering for a moment. Then, leaning down, he places a tender kiss on Henry’s forehead.

“I’m going to put him to bed.” James says softly, his voice soft as he looks up at you from his kneeling position by the bed. You nod quickly, your words caught in your throat.

You watch as James moves with practiced ease, sliding one hand tenderly behind Henry’s back and slipping the other under his knees. He lifts him carefully, his movements gentle yet confident, raising Henry up and off your chest. As hedoes, Henry lets out a soft whine, his small face scrunching up in a mix of sleepiness and longing. With a tiny, outstretched arm, he reaches toward you, his fingers stretching as far as they can go, desperate to grab you.

“No.” He huffs, his eyes opening the tiniest bit to glance up at his dad.

“It’s bedtime.” James says softly, drawing Henry close to his chest and gently reaching down to grab the stuffed dinosaur Henry clings to. 

“No! But I—” Henry protests, wriggling in James’s arms. He twists around, casting a desperate look over his shoulder at you. “I want mummy.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes dart to James, wide with shock. He mirrors your surprise. With one arm securely wrapped around Henry’s squirming body, he struggles to keep his son from wriggling free. Henry’s little face is flushed with frustration, his eyes locked onto yours as he reaches out with tiny, pleading hands, desperate for your comfort.

“Do you want to say goodnight to mum before bed?” James asks quietly, leaning down to speak into Henry’s ear. Henry stops squirming instantly and nods. Gently, James places his son back onto the bed, and Henry immediately flings himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck. He collides with you with a soft thud, and you hear James mutter about being gentle with you.

“Goodnight,” You say whisper, one arm holding him to you and the other holding the back of his head. “I love you bunches. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Your eyes flicker up to meet James’ who is watching you with an indescribable look.

“Love you.” Henry mumbles, the sleepiness in his voice affecting his pronunciation. Then he leans back and plants a big kiss on your forehead, mimicking the affectionate gesture he’s seen his father make so many times. You laugh quietly and press a kiss on his nose in return. Satisfied, Henry crawls back to his father and lifts his arms. James picks him up, his gaze lingering on you.

“I’ll be right back.” James says softly before heading to Henry’s room. As he walks away, Henry peeks over his shoulder and waves a tiny hand at you.

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

part two here!

[ssorenz]

F*CK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME BABY!!

pairings (separate) ୨ৎ : toji fushiguro x reader, gojo satoru x reader, choso kamo x reader, suguru geto x reader

contains ୨ৎ : adult content (mdni), piv penetration, jealous/angry s*x, face sitting, c*nnilingus, overstim, car sex, squ*rting, edging, oral s*x (giving and receiving), pet names

a/n ୨ৎ : i might make a part 2 w/ sukuna, higuruma, nanami and shoko (or others), but it depends on how well this does!! not proofread btw, i posted this while half asleep 👎

in honor of me hitting 300+!!

toji fushiguro—☆

“fuck did i tell you about hangin’ out with that— bastard?” toji emphasizes each of his words with a snap of his hips. deep, merciless strokes into that, slick, puffy cunt of yours.

it was tired, tired from all the abuse it had taken. toji managed to pull three— no, four orgasms out of you in the span of an hour.

impossible for some. but toji? never that. he knew you like the back of his hand.

which is exactly how he knew you’d be so gullible, so naive, towards your conniving coworker.

of course you didn’t notice when he’d take glances at your tits as they restrained in your uniform. of course, when he offered to take you out to restaurants, you thought of it as ‘strictly business’.

but of course, thats what toji was here for— to keep you in check.

“im, haah— m’sorry tojii!!” you choked out a pathetic sob, trying your best to find common ground with the man. this torture had gone on for.. god knows how long. your brain was too fuzzy to even attempt to recall what time it was.

“sorry, my ass. shoulda’ been sorry a long time ago, mama. s’too late for all that now..” he grunted in reply, still continuing the ungodly pace he was going at.

jackhammering himself into you at this point— his full, aching balls slapping against your wetness.

he had your back arched— face up, ass down, hands tied behind your back, bobbing up and down with each mean thrust. red marks ingrained into the fat of your hips from the way he hooked his nails into them, making sure you’d be unable to run from him.

and it wasn’t just your hips that were marked, oh no. the crook of your neck, just along your collarbone, the inner and outer regions of your plush thighs. toji made sure to mark you up real nice and good.

“if you were really sorry,” he continued. “you would’ve stopped fuckin’ talking to that asshole months ago. then he woulda never thought it was— shit, be so handsy wit’ ya’.”

as toji replayed the scene in his head, his strokes were even sharper, practically burying you into the mattress at this point. he remembered picking you up from work, in your blouse and short pencil skirt that rode up your ass.

your coworker stopped you before leaving though, exchanging a quick goodbye, and a ‘simple hug.’ atleast thats what you called it.

but having his hands around your waist, slowly inching towards the hem of your skirt was anything but simple.

“toji, please— m’ really sorry! didn’t know..” you almost incoherently babbled out. the way his cock repeatedly pummeled its way against your sweet spot, it had you dumb. stupid, even.

“ya’ never fuckin’ know, huh? poor thing..gotta protect you from these men out here, yeah? need me by your side at all times?” he cooed sarcastically as you frantically nodded in reply.

“need you, daddy. n-need you to protect me—”

toji chuckled darkly, almost feeling bad from how pathetic you looked, how pathetic you sounded. the way your eyes rolled back as he hit your g-spot over and over, or the helpless cries that left your mouth as he did so.

“good. n’ thats how it needs to stay, mama.”

satoru gojo—☆

satoru couldn’t wait. he physically could not wait until he got home. no no, he needed you now.

his hands were engulfed in your hair, grabbing a plentiful handful as he bobbed your head up and down, soft groans of pleasure emitting from his parted lips.

“you thought that shit you pulled today was funny, yeah? messy fuckin’ girl.”

gojo had a meeting earlier with the higher-ups, discussing training for his students. you were practically on your knees, begging to tag along. after some consideration, he obliged (of course)—after all, who’s he to deny his favorite girl?

unfortunately for you, the meeting was more boring than you thought. listening to their voices drone on for what felt like eternities made your head ache.

unfortunately for satoru though, you let boredom get to the best of you.

he looked so damn attractive next to you, so professional— like his whole demeanor changed. your mind couldn’t help but wander elsewhere. your hands couldn’t help but wander either, as they discreetly drifted to the middle of his lap.

gojo let out a soft groan as you began palming him through his slacks, but was quick to conceal it with a cough. he tried desperately not to react too visibly, but it was becoming increasingly tormenting with each passing moment.

finally, after what felt like an eternity for both of you (though likely only seconds), satoru couldn't contain himself any longer— interrupting the meeting abruptly by announcing that you both needed to leave early due "to personal matters." with that excuse out of the way, he dragged you out before anyone could question the sudden departure.

to be quite frank, it was hilarious. well, in your eyes atleast. for satoru…?

ah, not so much.

mascara ran down your cheeks, tears welling up—blurring your vision as you felt the tip of his cock hit your uvula over and over. you could feel it throbbing angrily in your mouth as your tongue slobbed around the base.

gojo continued thrusting his hips back and forth into your mouth, holding onto your hair tightly. looking up, you could see his eyes rolling to the back of his head, milky strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

even in his state, he still looked so dreamy.

satoru held you down, forcing you onto his base, your nose brushing against his well-kept happy trail. you choked, strings of drool pooling effortlessly down his cock. he let out a deep, throaty moan that seemed to reverberate inside the car. your mouth was so warm, so welcoming.

gojos thrusts intensified as he continued to recklessly pound himself into your slack jaw, the salty taste of his precum dribbling onto your tongue. he was close to cumming— you both knew it.

his movements became more shaky and jagged, sloppily going in and out of your mouth before stopping. before you knew it, sweet yet salty ropes of his essence painted the back of your throat— making you instinctively swallow. satoru quickly pulled out, resting his bare cock on your face as he felt another load arising.

and it did, painting your pretty face with his sticky, pearlescent seed.

gojo looked at the sight beneath him, cursing underneath his breath as he admired how good you looked. even covered in his cum, even with your hair all disheveled, you still looked amazing.

“a-acting out to get what you want— tsk, what a brat.” he teased, still recovering from his orgasm. typical gojo, even in his weakest moments, he never lost his charm nor attitude.

“well it worked, didn’t it?” you retorted, a sly smirk playing on your lips.

“i- uh. . . no comment.”

kamo choso—☆

choso was never the type to take his anger out on his loved ones, especially you.

the half curse, half human wasn’t unfamiliar with the feelings of anger and jealousy, although he never experienced the writhing feeling first hand.

but of course, there’s always a first time for everything.

“mine, mine, mine—“ choso whined, a series of breathless moans following soon after as he shamelessly pummeled into you. he had you in a nasty mating press as you lay flat on the bed, legs damn near reaching your ears.

“you’re my girlfriend, no one else’s. . . especially not— hngh, his.”

your male friend, who obviously had the hots for you. choso was baffled you couldn’t tell, as his flirtatious remarks and actions weren’t even that subtle.

the way he’d compliment your outfits, blatantly staring at your chest— especially when you wore lower cut tops. or when he’d ogle at your curves, licking his lips as his eyes rode up your thighs.

or like today, when he suggested you leave your boyfriend for him. now that, was choso’s last straw.

"you really shouuuld, ya know?" he slurred into your ear, clearly intoxicated from the drinks you both were sipping on. choso was just a few feet away in the living area, engrossed in some show he was watching. but his eyes flicked over to you occasionally, as he kept an eye on the situation.

"i mean, why are you even with him?" your friend continued, his voice a loud whisper, clearly thinking he was discreet. "you deserve someone who really appreciates you. someone like... me."

choso was enraged—he undeniably heard every word. someone who really appreciates you? the nerve.

standing up, he approached you two, shooting daggers into your friends wicked expression as he wrapped his muscular arm around your waist.

but that cockiness soon faltered after noticing your boyfriends deadly glare. your male friend started pathetically apologizing, claiming it was a ‘joke.’

but even choso knows that drunk words are sober thoughts.

“f-fuuck, ‘cho…he, aah— didnt mean it!”

“dont c-care…” he grunted, low and rough. his jagged, uncontrolled, breaths tickled against your skin as he nuzzled his way into the crook of your neck. “i appreciate you more than he, nngh, ever w-will.”

you let out a soft moan, his words shooting shivers down your spine. choso was never like this— so possessive. but who’s to say you were complaining?

he continued ravishing into you, so carnally— the feeling of being so completely claimed by him was both exhilarating and terrifying.

but damn, it turned you on like nothing else.

his pants echoed in your ears as he picked up speed, his body moving against yours in perfect rhythm, the sound of his thighs slamming against your own. any thoughts you had, fled from your mind except for the sensation of his cock bottoming out inside you and the way he took control of both your body and mind.

as the intensity built, you could feel yourself getting closer to you peak. you didn't want it to end, but you also knew that when it did, the pure feeling alone would be delectable.

“choso— m’gonna, f-fuck! mm’gonna cumm~!” you blubbered out, your eyes starting to pool. with those words, he picked up his pace even more— delving deeper inside of you. just as you were about to let go and give in, adrenaline coursing through your veins, choso objected.

"n-not yet,” he denied. “m’ not done with you yet."

geto suguru—☆

“s’too much, sug’!” you sobbed loudly as geto’s tongue danced around your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

you squirmed and writhed on suguru's face, your hips grinding against his mouth as he expertly teased your clit with his tongue. you couldn't believe how good it felt, how skilled he was at his craft.

"suguru..." you panted, gripping the headboard tightly as yet another wave of pleasure hit you like a semi-truck. "m’sorry, please. i-i didn’t mean it…”

suguru chuckled softly against your sensitive flesh, his expression twisting into a devilish grin. "oh?" he teased, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "didn’t mean what? i can’t quite recall what it was."

he knew exactly what you were implying. yet, he was teasing— because the both of you knew what you said earlier contradicted this current state you were in now.

you bit your lip, feeling a warm blush creep up on your cheeks at the memory of what had come out of your mouth during the heat of the moment. "..‘said that you n-never make me cum," you mumbled sheepishly.

geto paused for a moment before resuming his ministrations with renewed vigor, causing yet another surge of pleasure to ripple through your body. "is that so? hm… i’ve never made you cum?" he asked mockingly, his voice full of amusement. “well she’s tellin’ me otherwise baby.”

he was referring to your cunt. the way “she” squelched as suguru slid his slender fingers in with ease, coated from your own slick mixed with his saliva.

the way he curled those digits inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that made your back arch and moans escape from between parted lips even as they were pressed against his face.

as his fingers continued to stroke your inner walls, searching for that perfect spot that would send you over the edge, his other hand reached up to play with one of your nipples.

the combination of the two was enough to make your head spin and your body shudder with anticipation. "s-suguru..." you whimpered out between gasps for air. "please... don't stop..."

his only response was a low rumble from deep within his chest—vibrating against your cunt as he swirled his tongue around your clit once again before finally taking it into his mouth completely, plunging two fingers deep inside of you.

a sharp hiss escaped from between your clenched teeth, followed by a subdued cry as suguru circled inside of you. he smirked, watching eagerly as your facial expression twisted lewdly with each nasty ministration. he was such a tease.

it felt as though your very being was on the verge of exploding. every nerve ending screamed for release, begging to be set free from this torment. the tension coiled tightly within you, threatening to snap at any moment and send waves of ecstasy crashing over your body.

you could feel it coming closer now— that inevitable peak where all sensations would converge into one, resulting in a mind-blowing orgasm. your heart raced, pounding against your chest like a drum signaling an approaching storm. sweat trickled down between your breasts and pooled at the small of your back as you arched further into suguru's touch.

but as quick as the pleasure built to a crescendo, it ended just as fast.

geto pulled his mouth away suddenly, grinning up at you from his spot between your legs, eyes sparkling with mischief. "since you said i never make you cum," he teased, his fingers curling inside of you in a way that threatened to push you over the edge yet again.

"i’m sure someone else will be able to help alleviate that little problem of yours." and with those words, he rose from his place underneath your figure. your legs being shaky, unstable, gave out beneath you, making you plop onto the mattress.

as geto sauntered towards the door with a smug smile on his face, he turned back to give one last taunt. “dont worry," he said with an air of false concern. "it shouldn’t be too hard finding someone that makes you cum as hard as i do."

DSIIRESBLOG™ 2024 — comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated!! <3

[goldfades]

HAUNTED BY YOU──FATHER MAYHEW (part 2)

part one!!!!

─ summary | father charlie grapples with his intense attraction during the church event. they shared a passionate kiss that reignites their forbidden connection, despite the undeniable chemistry, charlie wrestles with guilt and the reality of their situation, ultimately pulling away as the risk of being caught looms over them. the tension between desire and moral obligation leaves them both longing for more, even if they face the consequences of their actions

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!reader

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut! mdni! oral (f!receiving), p in v, pretty rough but not as nasty as part one, praise (?), pretty soft/vanilla in comparison to part 1

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! (please do btw i'm obsessed w nicholas LMAO). also i feel like there should be a part 3 but i'm not sure where it would go sooo

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

After your encounter with Father Charlie, your world had turned completely upside down.

You no longer wanted to attend seminary, not like you wanted to begin with. It had always been someone else’s dream for you, a path laid out by your parents, by the expectations of the community, by the life you thought you were supposed to live. But now, every time you stepped into the church, all you could think about was him. The way his hands had felt on your skin, the way he had murmured your name with a mixture of reverence and desire. It was as if the weight of everything you had ever known had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you standing on uncertain ground.

It wasn’t just the guilt, though that was there, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. It was the confusion—the way you felt torn between the life you had always been told you should want and the inexplicable pull that had drawn you to him that night. You hadn’t planned for it to happen, hadn’t even fully understood what was happening as it unfolded, but now there was no denying it: something had changed inside of you.

You would be lying if you said that you weren't teasing the poor man, but you never expected it to go that far. His mean words, his rough touch... it was unexpected but welcome.

However, you avoided Charlie in the days that followed. But that didn’t stop the memories from replaying in your mind, unbidden and relentless. The rough sound of his voice, the way his breath had hitched when he looked at you, the feel of his lips against your skin—it haunted you, drawing you back to that night over and over again.

And yet, for all the confusion and turmoil, there was something else, too. A part of you that felt more alive than you ever had before. You couldn’t ignore the thrill of it, the way your heart raced when you thought about him, the way your body responded to even the thought of being near him again.

But what did that mean for your future? Could you go on pretending to follow a path that no longer felt like your own? Could you return to the person you had been before all of this?

You didn’t know.

All you knew was that something had been set in motion, something that couldn’t be undone. And as much as you tried to push it aside, to tell yourself it was just a fleeting moment of weakness, the truth lingered, heavy and undeniable: your encounter with Father Charlie had changed everything.

──

"I've just been worried about her." Your mother sniffled as she glanced up at Father Charlie. Her eyes were watery as your father nodded along, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Charlie did his best not to roll his eyes─he assured them that their daughter missing a few days of Church was nothing to worry about, she was simply exploring and that she'd come back if her heart was in the right place.

He wasn't sure if that was true though, he knew the true reason for your sudden absence—it wasn't that you were losing your faith. It was that you were avoiding him. And in a way, he couldn't blame you. After what had happened between the two of you, things could never be the same.

Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his chair, feeling the weight of your parents' anxious gazes on him. He offered them a reassuring smile, the same gentle, composed expression he had worn so many times before. But beneath the surface, a storm raged inside him.

"I appreciate your concern," he said softly, clasping his hands together. "But give her time. Sometimes a little distance can be healthy. She’ll find her way back, if it’s meant to be."

Your mother dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, her worry evident. "But Father, she's never missed church like this before. She's always been so devoted. I just… I don’t understand what’s changed."

Charlie swallowed, the words catching in his throat as he forced himself to maintain his calm demeanor. He could feel guilt clawing at the edges of his composure, the weight of the secret the two of you now shared hanging over him like a heavy cloud. He had tried to rationalize it, tried to convince himself that it was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment that would pass. But the truth was, every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

"I understand your concern," Charlie continued, his voice softer now, more reflective. "But maybe she just needs some space to reflect on things. Sometimes, when we're too close to something, we can't see it clearly."

Your father sighed, rubbing his temples. "She's been so distant lately. I just don’t know what’s going on in her head anymore."

Charlie nodded sympathetically, though inside, he felt the sting of his own hypocrisy. He had been the one to create that distance. He had crossed a line he never should have, and now both of you were suffering the consequences. The temptation had been too great, the connection too deep to ignore, and now he was left trying to navigate the fallout, unsure of how to reconcile his role as a spiritual leader with the undeniable pull he felt toward you.

"Just give her some time," Charlie said again, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince—your parents, or himself. "She’s strong. She’ll come around."

Your mother smiled weakly, though her worry remained evident. "I hope so, Father. I really do."

As they stood to leave, Charlie felt a familiar sense of dread settle in his chest. He bid them goodbye, offering them one last reassurance before they stepped out of the church. But as the door closed behind them, the air in the sanctuary seemed to grow heavier.

Charlie exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as the silence pressed in around him. He had tried to distance himself from you, convinced himself that what had happened was a mistake. But no matter how hard he tried to push it away, the memory of you lingered, seeping into every corner of his mind.

And now, standing alone in the empty church, he found himself wondering if there was any way to make things right again—if there was any way to undo the damage that had been done.

But deep down, he knew the answer.

There was no going back. Not for either of you.

Later that night, Charlie found himself thinking about you once again. Particularly, how you looked that night. On your knees, so eager to please and your doe eyes gazing up at him. He couldn't get that sight out of his mind, no matter how hard he prayed. He clasped his hands together, leaning over the edge of his bed, his head bowed as if in prayer.

But the words weren’t coming—no matter how hard he tried to focus, the familiar rhythm of his nightly prayers refused to take shape. His mind was somewhere else, tangled up in thoughts that shouldn’t be there, lingering on images that made him feel as though he were coming apart at the seams.

He cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as if that would somehow banish the memory. But the more he fought it, the more vivid it became—your wide, innocent eyes gazing up at him, filled with a mix of longing and devotion that made his chest tighten. The feel of your skin, soft and warm beneath his fingertips, the sound of your voice, so eager to please… it haunted him. The way you had knelt before him, lips parted in anticipation, had driven him to the edge of his restraint.

He should have stopped it. He should have turned away, sent you home, reminded you of your faith, of his vows. But he hadn’t. Instead, he had given in, swept up in the heat of the moment, in the way your body responded to his touch, in the softness of your breath against his skin. And now, no matter how much he tried to pray, no matter how often he begged for forgiveness, the memory of that night refused to leave him.

Charlie’s breath came shallow as he stood, pacing the small room in frustration. His fists clenched at his sides, the fabric of his robes suddenly feeling too tight, too constricting. He could feel the familiar ache building in his chest, spreading lower, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, the pull was too strong to resist.

He glanced toward the small crucifix hanging on the wall, a wave of guilt washing over him. He was a man of God—he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to let his thoughts linger on sinful desires, especially not desires for you.

But the truth was, no matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your name echoed in his mind, and the memory of your touch seemed to burn hotter with every passing moment.

But when he closed his eyes again, all he could see was you—on your knees, so willing, so eager. The memory of your lips sent a shiver down his spine, and the guilt that followed only fueled the fire inside him.

And he knew, in that moment—the worst part wasn't the fact that he did those sinful actions—it was that he wasn't sorry, not one bit. Not even a sliver of remorse.

A chill ran through him at the thought, his stomach twisting with a blend of shame and something else, something that made him feel even more unsettled. It wasn’t regret that filled him when he remembered that night—it was a strange, unwelcome satisfaction. A hunger that hadn’t been sated, not entirely.

He had broken his vows, crossed a line he swore he never would. But now, in the stillness of the night, with only his thoughts to keep him company, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the truth. He wasn’t sorry. Not for the way you had looked at him, not for the way his body had responded to yours, and certainly not for the way his hands had roamed over your skin, desperate to claim you as his.

The worst part, the part that filled him with guilt and dread, was that he would do it again. Given the chance, he would fall just as easily. There was no penitence in his heart, only desire. And that terrified him more than anything else.

He had spent years dedicating himself to his faith, to his congregation, to being a beacon of moral strength and guidance. But now, the very foundation of everything he believed in was crumbling beneath him. How could he stand in front of his parish, look your parents in the eye, and preach about virtue when he knew what lay inside his own heart? How could he ask for forgiveness when, deep down, he wasn’t ready to give up the sinful thoughts that had taken root in his mind?

Charlie stood abruptly, crossing the room to the small mirror hanging on the wall. He stared at his reflection, searching his own eyes for the man he once was. But all he saw was the shadow of someone who had allowed himself to be consumed by temptation. He touched the collar around his neck, feeling its weight like a noose tightening with each passing second.

The worst part wasn’t the act itself—it was the knowledge that he would do it again. He would welcome it, crave it. You had awoken something in him, something dark and uncontrollable, and no amount of prayer or penance could change that now.

A soft knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. For a moment, his heart leapt into his throat, fearing that it might be you. That somehow, you had sensed his weakness, his need, and had come to him again. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he crossed the room and opened the door.

It wasn’t you. It was another member of the congregation, a kindly older woman who often helped with the church's charitable efforts. She smiled at him warmly, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside him.

"Father Charlie," she said, her voice gentle. "I wanted to thank you for your sermon earlier. It was so uplifting. We’re blessed to have you."

Charlie forced a smile, nodding as he thanked her for her kind words. But as she turned to leave, he felt a hollowness settle in his chest.

He didn’t feel like a blessing. He felt like a man on the edge of a precipice, teetering dangerously close to a fall he might never recover from.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be saved.

──

Father Charlie stood at the pulpit, his voice steady as he delivered the sermon to the congregation. The stained glass windows bathed the church in a soft, multicolored light, the hum of his words blending with the occasional creak of wooden pews. His hands gripped the edges of the podium, knuckles pale, though his calm expression gave nothing away.

"And though we may walk through the valley of shadows," he said, his voice resonating through the high ceilings, "we must remember that God’s light will guide us, if only we choose to follow it."

His eyes swept over the familiar faces before him—devout, attentive, hanging on his every word. For a brief moment, he felt the usual sense of peace that came with leading his flock, of being their shepherd through life’s trials. But then, in the midst of that calm, the heavy oak doors at the back of the church creaked open.

You stepped inside, late.

Charlie’s heart faltered.

You moved quietly down the aisle, slipping into a pew near the back, trying to draw as little attention as possible. But he noticed you. Of course he noticed you. His breath hitched in his chest, and for a moment, the words on his tongue stumbled.

You didn’t look at him right away, your eyes scanning the prayer book in front of you as you settled in, but he could feel the electricity of your presence, like a whisper of something forbidden trailing through the air. His mouth went dry as he remembered, vividly and all too easily, the feel of your skin under his hands, the heat between you, the way your lips had parted in that fleeting moment of sinful indulgence.

His mind, usually sharp and disciplined during sermons, began to unravel, his thoughts wandering to places they never should have. His gaze lingered on you as you sat there, your expression neutral, but there was something in the way you held yourself that made it impossible for him to tear his eyes away. He noticed the way your hair caught the light, the soft curve of your neck as you bowed your head slightly. His pulse quickened against his will.

Charlie cleared his throat, trying to refocus on the words he had prepared, but they felt distant now, hollow in his mouth. He was no longer preaching to his congregation; he was struggling to hold onto his composure, his resolve crumbling with each passing second.

"Temptation," he began again, though his voice was softer now, as if the word itself held a deeper, more personal meaning. "It is something we all must face. It whispers to us when we are weak, it pulls at us when we are vulnerable. But we must find the strength to turn away, to resist the allure of sin."

His eyes found you again, and this time, you looked up. Your gaze met his, and in that single glance, he felt everything crash into him at once. The air between you seemed to thicken, heavy with the weight of what had passed between you. His breath caught in his throat, and he forced himself to tear his gaze away before anyone could notice the tension that hummed just beneath the surface.

But you didn’t stop looking at him. He could feel your eyes on him, a silent challenge, a reminder of the line that had already been crossed. He fought to keep his voice steady, but the sermon felt like it was slipping away from him, the careful words he had crafted now little more than a veil over the chaos inside his mind.

"We must… stand firm in our faith," he continued, though the conviction had drained from his voice. "For in times of darkness, it is only through faith that we find salvation."

Salvation. The word felt bitter on his tongue. Could he even claim to believe it anymore, after everything that had happened? After what he had allowed to happen?

The sermon dragged on, each word a labor, each moment a battle to maintain control. And all the while, you sat there, your presence like a burning flame in the cold of the church, drawing him in, tempting him with a kind of heat he knew he could never touch again.

When he finally reached the end of his sermon, the relief was almost palpable. He offered the closing prayer, his voice quiet, barely able to focus on the familiar verses. As the congregation murmured their amens and began to file out of the pews, Charlie stayed rooted at the pulpit, his eyes lingering on the spot where you sat.

But you didn’t leave with the others. You stayed behind, waiting until the church was nearly empty, until the last whispers of conversation faded away into the stillness. And then, slowly, you stood and made your way toward him, your footsteps soft against the stone floor.

Charlie’s heart pounded in his chest, the air between you charged with unspoken tension as you approached. The church was quiet now, the last of the congregation having departed, leaving only the echo of their footsteps behind. The light filtering through the stained glass seemed softer, casting shadows that flickered across the empty pews. But there was nothing soft about the way his pulse thundered in his ears, about the tightening in his chest as you closed the distance between you.

He should have walked away. He should have left immediately, before anything more could be said, before the unspoken words between you could turn into something neither of you could take back. But instead, he stood there, frozen in place, rooted to the spot by the weight of your gaze.

“Father Charlie,” you said softly, your voice low and sweet, like a secret meant only for him. The sound of your voice sent a shiver through him, and he fought to keep his expression neutral, though he could feel the cracks in his composure growing deeper with every passing second.

“Yes?” His voice came out rougher than he intended, strained.

You took a step closer, and the scent of your perfume reached him—something soft, floral, intoxicating. “Your sermon…” you began, but the words trailed off as your eyes met his again, and in that moment, he could see the truth in them. The same hunger that gnawed at him was reflected in your gaze, the same forbidden desire simmering just beneath the surface.

He swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He couldn’t allow this to happen. Not again. Not here, in the house of God, where his entire purpose was to be a guide for the people, to resist temptation, to be the moral compass for those who sought him out. But standing this close to you, feeling the warmth of your body, seeing the way your lips parted slightly as you looked at him—it was as though the air itself was charged with electricity, pulling him in.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” you continued, your voice softer now, almost a whisper. “About temptation… about resisting it.”

His throat tightened. He knew where this was going, knew he needed to stop it before it went any further. “You should,” he managed to say, though his voice was strained. “We all must resist.”

Your eyes flickered with something—amusement, perhaps, or maybe defiance. “Is that what you’re doing right now, Father?” you asked, stepping even closer, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from your skin.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Not like this.”

“And yet,” you replied, your voice teasing, “here I am.”

He clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t give in to the desire that gnawed at him, no matter how strong the pull. But as you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm, the warmth of your touch sent a jolt through him that made it nearly impossible to think clearly.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about it, too.”

He closed his eyes, struggling to find his breath. Of course, he had been thinking about it. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else since that night, no matter how much he tried to push it away. But acknowledging that would only make it worse, would only open the door to something darker, something he wasn’t sure he could come back from.

“I can’t…” he started, but the words stuck in his throat.

You stepped even closer, your body now just inches from his, and he could feel the heat radiating from you, could smell the faint sweetness of your perfume. “You don’t have to resist,” you whispered, your lips so close to his ear now that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin.

Charlie’s hands trembled at his sides, his heart pounding in his chest. He was standing on the edge of a precipice, knowing that one more step would send him over, would plunge him into something he couldn’t take back. He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours, and in that moment, he knew.

The worst part wasn’t the temptation. The worst part was that he didn’t want to resist anymore.

"Sweetheart?"

You both immediately jumped, putting some space between you two. You looked back to see your mother standing, looking between you two with suspicion. Charlie’s heart nearly stopped in his chest as your mother’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. His breath hitched, and he took a hurried step back from you, creating what little distance he could in the small space between you both. The panic coursing through his veins was almost palpable, his mind scrambling for an excuse, an explanation—anything to justify the intimate moment your mother had just interrupted.

You spun around, your cheeks flushed, eyes wide as you faced her. “Mom…” you started, your voice shaky, barely able to form the words.

Your mother stood just a few feet away, her eyes narrowing as they flicked between you and Father Charlie. Suspicion danced across her face, her arms crossing over her chest in a way that made it clear she didn’t believe for a second that what she had just walked in on was innocent.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice tight with concern, but laced with an edge of disbelief. “Why are you here alone with Father Charlie?”

Charlie swallowed hard, doing his best to regain some semblance of composure. He stepped forward, trying to project the calm and collected demeanor he was known for.

His hands fidgeted behind his back, where no one could see the way they trembled. “Mrs. L/N,” he said, forcing a small smile, “I was just… offering some spiritual guidance. Your daughter has been struggling with her faith lately, and I wanted to make sure she was alright.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. She glanced at you again, her suspicion deepening. “Spiritual guidance?” she repeated slowly, her tone skeptical. “That’s all?”

You nodded quickly, your face burning with embarrassment, desperate to put her at ease. “Yes, Mom. That’s all. I’ve just… I’ve had a lot on my mind, and Father Charlie was helping me work through some things.”

Your mother didn’t look satisfied, but she didn’t push any further either. Instead, she sighed, her eyes softening just a little as she looked at you. “Sweetheart, I’ve been worried about you. You’ve been distant lately, and I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’m your mother—I know when something’s not right.”

Charlie took a deep breath, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from the dangerous ground it had been treading. “You have every right to be concerned,” he said gently. “But I assure you, your daughter is fine. She’s just been searching for some clarity, and sometimes, that means taking a step back to reflect. It’s a normal part of spiritual growth.”

Your mother seemed to hesitate for a moment, her eyes lingering on him as if weighing his words. Finally, she nodded, though the unease still lingered in her expression. “Alright,” she said quietly. “But… next time, sweetheart, maybe talk to me too. I’m always here for you.”

You smiled weakly, giving a small nod. “I will, Mom.”

Your mother’s gaze softened further, and she gave you a gentle smile before turning back toward the door. “Me and dad are waiting outside,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t take too long.”

As soon as she was gone, the tension in the air shifted, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence. Charlie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his shoulders sagging with the weight of what had almost just happened.

“That was too close,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned back to him.

Charlie nodded, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts still racing. “We can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly, though even as he said it, part of him knew it was a lie.

You stood there, staring at him, your breath unsteady as the reality of what had just happened sunk in. Your mother had almost caught you, and the danger of the situation wasn’t lost on either of you. And yet, there was still that undeniable pull, the heat between you two simmering just beneath the surface, refusing to die down despite the risk.

Charlie’s words hung in the air, a weak protest against what both of you knew was inevitable. He had said it before—he couldn’t keep doing this—but neither of you had stopped, even after that night. Even after everything that had followed.

You took a small step closer to him, your heart pounding as you fought against the voice in your head that told you to walk away. “You don’t mean that,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He closed his eyes, his jaw tight, clearly trying to hold on to whatever shred of self-control he had left. “I should mean it,” he muttered, his voice strained, but he didn’t move away from you. If anything, he seemed to lean in closer, despite his own protest. “This is wrong. We both know that.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles as he wrestled with himself. “Maybe it is,” you admitted, your eyes meeting his again, “but that doesn’t mean I regret it. Do you?”

Charlie looked at you, the conflict plain in his eyes, but the more he stared, the more that tension seemed to fade. “I don’t regret it,” he finally admitted, his voice low and hoarse. “But I should.”

You shook your head slowly, stepping even closer to him, the space between you almost non-existent now. “Then why don’t you?”

Charlie’s breath hitched, his gaze flickering over your face as if searching for an answer. The heat between you two was almost unbearable now, every inch of space crackling with tension, and you could see the exact moment his resolve began to crack.

He exhaled sharply, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of warmth spreading through you. You moved closer, your hand sliding down his arm, feeling the way his skin shivered beneath your touch. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered back, your lips dangerously close to his now.

For a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, standing there in the quiet, the tension and the desire between you growing stronger with every passing second. Charlie’s breath quickened, his eyes dark with longing as he stared at you.

But then, just as quickly, his expression shifted, a look of torment crossing his features. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” he whispered, his voice trembling with both desire and guilt. “You deserve better than this.”

You swallowed hard, your heart clenching at his words. But you shook your head, refusing to let him pull away now. “What I deserve,” you said softly, “is you. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

Charlie’s eyes flashed with something—a mix of longing and torment—and for a moment, he looked like he might resist again. But then, something inside him snapped. He reached out, his hands grabbing your waist, pulling you closer in one swift motion.

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips crashed into yours, and for a second, all of that guilt, that tension, melted away in the heat of the kiss. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you against him as if afraid you might slip away. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the church, not your parents waiting outside, not the fact that what you were doing was forbidden.

All that mattered was the way his lips felt against yours, the way his touch set your skin on fire, the way everything else seemed to fade into the background when you were with him.

The kiss deepened, an electric jolt shooting through you as Father Charlie held you close. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your heart race faster than you thought possible. You felt the heat of his body against yours, his grip possessive yet gentle, like he was trying to hold on but afraid he might break you. It was a contradiction, just like him—full of restraint, but also full of passion.

You let out a soft gasp as his hand slid up your side, brushing against your ribs, and the sensation made your knees weak. You had to remind yourself that this was real, that this was actually happening again, despite all the reasons it shouldn’t. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it any more than he could.

Charlie broke the kiss first, his breath ragged, his forehead pressed against yours. His eyes were squeezed shut as if he were fighting an internal battle—one that he was quickly losing. “This can’t happen again,” he whispered, though the way his hands still held you told a different story. His resolve was crumbling, just like it always did around you.

You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, but you couldn’t bring yourself to agree out loud. The tension between you two was still thick, and the temptation was too strong, too intoxicating to resist.

You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, mirroring your own, and it was enough to make you lean in again, brushing your lips against his one more time.

“Then stop,” you whispered against his lips, daring him, challenging him to push you away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he kissed you again, harder this time, as if the very act of pulling you closer was the only thing grounding him. His hands gripped your waist tighter, fingers digging into your hips, and you could feel the desperation in his touch. There was no hesitation now, no pretending that this wasn’t what he wanted.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his clerical shirt, the smooth fabric bunched under your fingers. It was almost surreal, the way everything else disappeared around you, the church silent except for the sound of your breathing and the faint echo of your heartbeats.

But then, reality began creeping back in, like a shadow over the two of you.

The weight of what you were doing came crashing down again, as it always did, leaving you both tangled in a mess of desire and guilt. Charlie broke away once more, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with the effort to steady himself. His eyes were wild with conflict as he looked at you, his voice hoarse. “We can’t… Not here. Not like this.”

You could feel the hesitation returning, his conscience pulling at him once again. But before he could say anything more, you pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“I know,” you whispered, nodding. “But don’t regret this, Charlie. Please.”

His gaze softened for a moment, and for just a second, it seemed like the weight of his guilt was lifting, replaced by something softer, something more real. He gently took your hand in his, pulling it away from his lips, and brought it to his chest, holding it there as if to let you feel the way his heart raced beneath your fingertips.

“I don’t,” he said quietly, his voice firm despite the uncertainty lingering in his eyes.

But before either of you could speak again, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the small room. You both tensed immediately, pulling apart in a rush as if the entire world had just come crashing back down on you.

Your mother’s voice rang out, calling your name from somewhere outside, and the reality of your situation hit like a cold shock to your system. You glanced at Charlie, your pulse still racing, your thoughts a jumbled mess.

You sighed, stepping back, your heart still pounding as you adjusted your clothes, trying to make yourself presentable before stepping out of the room.

As you left the small space where everything had happened, Charlie watched you go, his chest tightening with the weight of his own choices. He knew there would be consequences to all of this—there always were. But as he watched you disappear into the hallway, a small part of him couldn’t help but want more.

And that terrified him most of all.

──

Father Charlie’s lips crashed against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you into the small, dimly lit room at the side of the church. The door clicked shut behind you, the quiet sound echoing through the silence as though sealing you both away from the world outside.

Your back hit the wall gently, the cool stone pressing against you, but all you could focus on was the heat radiating from him—the way his body seemed to burn with a need that matched your own. His kiss was desperate, almost frantic, as though he had been holding back for too long and could no longer control the desire that had been eating away at him.

“God, I’ve tried,” he muttered against your lips, his breath hot and ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours for just a moment, as though trying to regain some semblance of control.

But even as he said it, his hands roamed over your body, fingers trembling slightly as they traced the curve of your hips. “I’ve tried to stay away… but I can’t.”

His confession sent a shiver through you, both of guilt and desire. You knew this was wrong—both of you did—but the pull between you was too strong to resist. There was something magnetic in the way you fit together, something undeniable in the way his touch made your pulse race.

You gasped softly as his hands slid higher, brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending jolts of electricity through your skin.

“Charlie…” you breathed, barely able to find the words as your heart pounded in your chest. His name left your lips like a prayer, one filled with both need and hesitation.

His response was a low growl of frustration, his hands tightening on your waist as if trying to ground himself, but his lips returned to yours with renewed urgency. The kiss deepened, becoming hungrier, more reckless, as though the two of you had crossed a threshold you could no longer retreat from. His fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, pulling you even closer to him, your bodies pressed together in a way that left no room for anything but the heat of your desire.

“We can’t…” he whispered again, though the words seemed hollow now, an afterthought that barely registered in the heat of the moment. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against it, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. “But I don’t want to stop.”

His words mirrored the conflict that raged inside of you—this was a line that should never have been crossed, but now that you were here, it felt impossible to turn back. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, your body arching into his as his hands explored your skin. The soft rasp of his breath against your neck, the heat of his body pressed so close to yours—it was overwhelming, intoxicating, and it left you dizzy with need.

For a brief moment, he pulled back, his chest heaving as he stared at you with dark, conflicted eyes. “We’re going to hell for this,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with desire, but there was no regret in his tone—only raw, unrestrained longing.

You shook your head, your fingers still gripping his shirt as you looked up at him, breathless. “Then take me with you.”

That was all it took for him to lose whatever remained of his restraint. With a groan, he captured your lips again, his hands moving faster now, more urgently, as though afraid that if he stopped for even a moment, the weight of what you were doing might crush him. You didn’t care anymore, not about the consequences, not about what anyone might say. In that moment, there was only him, only the way he made you feel—alive, reckless, consumed.

His hands slipped beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across the bare skin of your waist as though claiming you entirely. The cold stone wall at your back contrasted sharply with the heat of his body pressed against yours, grounding you even as everything around you spun out of control.

There was no space between you now, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, each touch, each kiss driving you further into the dark, forbidden territory you both had sworn to avoid. But neither of you had the strength to resist anymore. His breath was ragged against your neck, your own heart pounding in time with his as the intensity of the moment wrapped around you like a vice.

"Gonna make you cum so many times," he mumbled into your neck as he pushed you harder on the wall.

You let out a small giggle at his words, your head falling back against the wall with a small thud. "Is that a promise?"

Charlie hummed against your neck. "Mhm, you won't be able to walk outta here."

You tangled your fingers into his hair as he spoke, pulling him closer, urging him on. You needed this as much as he did. Needed to feel alive, to feel something that burned beyond the lines of right and wrong. It wasn't just lust—it was a dangerous craving for connection, something that both frightened and exhilarated you.

"Please," you pleaded, breath hitching as his hands roamed higher. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the struggle within him, but his resolve broke the moment you gave him permission.

With a low groan, his hands slid beneath your shirt completely, the sensation of his touch sending fire through your veins. Every nerve in your body was alight, the tension between you mounting to an unbearable high as his lips claimed every inch of skin they could reach. His breath was hot against your neck, the pressure of his body overwhelming, yet intoxicating.

Charlie’s mouth found your ear, his breath warm and labored. “I don’t know how to be anything else around you... it’s like you’re inside my head.”

You gasped as he pressed himself harder against you, your lips brushing the curve of his jawline in response. His words cut through you, filled with the same struggle and longing that burned in your chest. It was reckless, dangerous even, but it was real.

Without warning, his arms around your middle and picked you up. You let out a surprised sound as you wrapped his hips, before he dropped you right on the desk. The sensation of being completely in his control, suspended in the air for a fleeting moment, sent a thrill through you.

Before you could even process what was happening, he dropped you onto the desk behind you. The cool wood pressed against the back of your thighs as your hands flew to grip the edge, steadying yourself. The roughness of the gesture, the way his eyes burned into yours, left you breathless.

There was no hesitation in his movements anymore, no room for doubt or second thoughts. The desk creaked slightly beneath the weight of the moment, but neither of you cared.

Charlie stepped between your legs, his hands immediately finding your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he was anchoring himself to you. His gaze roamed over your face, dark and full of hunger, before his lips crashed back onto yours with renewed intensity. His kiss was deeper now, more demanding, as though he was trying to erase every single barrier between you.

"Charlie," you moaned as you blinked up at him, your whole body feeling like it was on fire.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more of him, craving the feeling of his body against yours. His hands slid up your sides, trailing heat in their wake as they pushed your shirt higher, exposing more skin to the cool air. You shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way his touch set your nerves on fire.

“God, I’ve wanted this,” he growled against your lips, his voice low and filled with raw need. He leaned forward, his body pressing yours back against the desk, the weight of him intoxicating. You could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he held nothing back now, his control slipping with every passing second.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers exploring the firmness of his body beneath the fabric of his clothes. Every muscle tensed beneath your touch, responding to you in ways that made your pulse race even faster. You pushed his shirt up, wanting to feel the heat of his skin against yours, to close the distance between you even more.

His lips left yours for a moment, trailing down your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, feeling the way his teeth grazed your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips with almost bruising force.

You could feel him hard against you, his desire unmistakable. The tension between you, the build-up of everything unsaid, was too much to bear anymore. You arched against him, needing more, wanting to lose yourself in the overwhelming heat between you both.

He then spread your legs further before practically ripping your skirt off, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He leaned down to press a sloppy kiss on your stomach before he slowly descended down where you needed him most.

Charlie placed two fingers on top of your clothed wet pussy, letting out a broken groan. "So ready for me, huh?"

All you could do was moan in response as your head fell back, your eyes screwing shut. The feeling of his fingers so close to where you ached, made you wanna scream in desperation. You just wanted him to fill you up and fuck you senseless.

“Charlie…” you breathed, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you felt in that moment. His name on your lips only seemed to spur him on, his fingers pushing deeper into your needy cunt.

Finally, he moved your panties to the side before slowly dipping a finger inside your sloppy pussy. Your back arched to his touch, letting out a pornographic moan.

Charlie shivered at the beautiful sound, his pants becoming impossibly tight. He felt his cock get harder every second, he wasn't sure how long he could wait—but he needed to taste you.

Keeping his finger inside your wet pussy, he leaned down and pressed his lips against it. With the added sensation, you were sure you were gonna pass out. Charlie slipped out his tongue, tasting your sweet juices as he hummed.

"Taste so fucking sweet, baby." He moaned as he opened his mouth to taste more of you. The taste was heavenly, he shut his eyes and began devouring you, his finger slipping in and out.

You were practically sobbing with pleasure at that point, your hand on his head as he ate you out like a starved man. Your pussy clenched around his finger, but you needed more. You needed his cock, desperately. He began rubbing himself against the wooden desk, desperate for any friction as he continued his assault on your puffy cunt.

You felt that familiar tightening in your lower stomach begin to form and you knew that it wouldn't take a lot more to make you cum. You began breathing heavily, your head falling back as you nodded desperately.

"Please, please make me cum," you babbled as you fisted his hair. "Oh, fuck!"

One last push of his finger and you were cumming around him, and Charlie wasted no time—he kept licking your juices until he felt he was completely satisfied. You were breathless from your high, but Charlie was far from done.

As you regained some sense of consciousness, you heard his belt buckle hit the wooden floor with a familiar thump. Then, Charlie’s lips crashed back onto yours with renewed urgency, fueled by your whispered permission. You could taste yourself on his tongue, humming at the salty taste.

His hands roamed over your body, no longer holding back, exploring every inch of exposed skin. You could feel the heat between you intensifying, the air growing thick with anticipation.

His free hand gripped your waist, pulling your body flush against his, and you could feel just how much he wanted you. The desk beneath you creaked again, but the noise was drowned out by the sound of your ragged breathing, the thud of your heartbeat in your ears, and the steady rhythm of his movements against you.

Charlie’s mouth continued to explore your neck, leaving kisses that sent shivers down your spine. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, dark and full of something primal. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he muttered, his voice husky, sending a thrill through you.

Your lips parted, words forming on the tip of your tongue, but they were lost as he lifted you slightly, shifting you further onto the desk. The sudden movement made you cling to him, your legs tightening around his waist, the closeness between you now unbearable in the best way.

Charlie then reached for his cock, you glanced down to see his redden tip leaking with pre-cum. He led his tip to your entrance, and he slowly began pushing himself into your warmth. Charlie let out a sigh of relief as his head fell back; he had missed the feeling of your tight cunt.

You were still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you were shaking at the burning and overwhelming sensation. "Please, Charlie," you didn't know what you were pleading for at this point.

Charlie let you adjust to his size before he began drilling in and out of you, the wooden desk creaking underneath you. You felt so full, you swore you felt him all the way up to your throat. Your hands found his broad shoulders, holding on as his thrusts began more erratic and desperate.

"This fuckin' pussy was made for me," he gasped as he began fucking you into the desk, the power of his thrusts making you cry out. "God made this pussy all for me, like a little present."

All his ramblings were going in one ear and out the other, you were absolutely drunk on his cock. You just moaned in response, unsure of what he was even saying at this point—Charlie wasn't sure either.

Charlie was snapping his hips against yours, he wasn't even thinking straight; he felt like a fucking dog in heat. All he could think of was cumming inside of your tight pussy again and again, until either of you could take it anymore.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out as you felt yourself drawing closer and closer to your orgasm. Your pussy tightened around him, your eyes rolling back in pure and unadulterated pleasure.

You came again, your whole body shaking as you felt your legs give out. You were practically limp as Charlie kept slamming into you, chasing his own high.

After a few more rough snaps of his hips, Charlie was spilling his seed into you. He rode out his high as he sighed heavily, his forehead falling against yours. You were both breathless, but nonetheless satisfied. His breath was warm against your skin as he rested his forehead against yours, the remnants of shared intensity still lingering in the air.

Both of you were quiet for a few moments, still trying to catch your breath, hearts beating in sync. The room, once filled with hurried movements and ragged breaths, had now fallen into a peaceful stillness.

Charlie’s hand slowly trailed down your back, a soft, gentle touch replacing the urgency from earlier. His fingers danced over your skin, and despite the exhaustion that hung between you, there was a tenderness in the way he touched you now, as if he was savoring every second of this quiet moment.

His eyes, still dark with satisfaction, locked with yours, and a small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You’re incredible," he murmured softly, his voice hoarse from everything that had passed between you.

You smiled back, your fingers brushing through his hair, still trying to make sense of the rush of emotions coursing through you. "Finally made me cum," you teased lightly, though your voice was soft and tired.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body a welcome comfort against yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything, just reveling in the intimacy of the aftermath, the unspoken connection that had deepened between you.

After a while, Charlie sighed again, this time more contented. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips soft and reassuring. “We should probably…get out of here before someone finds us,” he whispered, though there was no rush in his voice.

You laughed softly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. You were still perched on the edge of the desk, clothes haphazardly discarded, with no sign of the wild passion that had just transpired except for the disheveled state of the room and the lingering heat between you.

But for a moment longer, neither of you moved. There was something comforting in the stillness, the quiet intimacy that followed the storm. Eventually, though, Charlie slipped out of you, shifting slightly and helped you down from the desk with a gentle hand on your waist. You both began to gather your clothes, the silence between you now comfortable.

With one last lingering kiss, you both finally slipped out of the room, the world outside waiting. But something had shifted between you—something that felt like the beginning of something more.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[enhard]

park sunghoon — “code red”

let it fall, call it code red

: you send your boyfriend some risky photos, knowing he’s about to perform in front of thousands. the punishment you’ll get is well deserved.

pairing: bf!p.sh x fem!reader

cw: smut, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions about multiple rounds, sunghoon using your body for his own pleasure, he ties up your hands, degrading kink, hair pulling, slight masturbating, sending explicit photos and texts, lots of teasing.

not proofread, enjoy! (MDNI)

it’s been an hour ever since you kissed your boyfriend goodbye, wishing him luck at his upcoming concert. an hour ever since you couldn’t stop thinking about him, closing your eyes just to imagine him being right there between your legs.

you’re laying down on your bed, the need to touch him sinking you in the mattress. you sit up to look into the mirror that’s by the bed, deciding to tease him a bit.

you know that he’s with his members right now, having to perform any second.

you keep looking at your body in the mirror, lifting your undershirt just enough to show your abdomen. you take off your shorts, leaving yourself in your panties.

biting your lip, you open your camera app. you lay back down in your bed to take a few pics from the neck down. your boobs sit so nicely for the picture, almost like knowing you’re taking them for your love.

after you take some pics, even a short video for you holding your phone up with your right hand while running your left hand all over your body. you slightly smile and the camera picks it up perfectly for him.

you squeeze your thighs together, starting to grind on your own panties while thinking about him again.

you quickly open up the texting app, seeing that he was active 2 minutes ago. “perfect” you mumble to yourself, letting out small sounds as you’re squeezing your thighs tighter.

you send him a little text first, to see if he’d reply in the first place.

hey baby are you still backstage?

heyy my love yeah im still here, they’re delaying the concert a few minutes lol. what’s up?

oh if he knew right there.

mm i’m glad then, i miss you alreadyyy 😓

🫣 what do you mean by that darling?

and then you just go for it. you smile as you send him one photo of the ones you took, along with that short video. the blinding red led light hovering over your skin.

as soon as he sees the photos, he covers his phone screen to not leak it to anybody by accident.

he gulps, examining every part of your body visible. oh how he wishes he could throw kisses all over your pretty body. he hates what you’re doing to him but oh how much he loves how hot you look for him.

he can feel his bulge getting harder with each passing second staring at the material you sent him, looking down and cursing under his breath.

he immediately texts you back, struggling already.

you fucking slut, you got me hard already how am i supposed to perform now?

you smile even harder at his text, travelling your hand down to your panties just to rub yourself. you want him inside you badly, but teasing him is equally as fun.

letm help u get rid of it go smwhere whereno one can see u ;)

i don’t have time, if i get caught you’re so dead whore. i’m coming home right after this but why are you typing so weird all of a sudden?

ifs hard typingwuth one hand love 😜

oh you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now. when did i let you touch yourself? you’ll see what will happen when i get home. you better be all ready cause you’re not going down easy.

you don’t get to even text back, cause you get another few ones from him.

fuck i need to perform now

you’re getting punished when i get home

ill fuck you so good you’ll need me all the time from now on

you better not cum until i get home

you close your eyes, replaying his texts in your mind on repeat as you rub your panties faster. you keep his promise on not cumming, figuring you already pissed him off enough already.

your nipples get hard from the cold air coming from the open window. you get such heat in your stomach you can’t tame, only way you can tame it now is by letting sunghoon do whatever he wants to you.

you wonder the whole time how he performed with a boner but he did quite well, hiding it as well as he could. of course all he could think about was you.. those photos you sent floating in his mind on loop.

he forgot a few lyrics here and there being too preoccupied remembering the curves on your body he loved so much. how he was going to trace his fingers over every bump and curve on it.

feels like hours passed since his concert started, but the concert’s duration was only an hour, way shorter than the usual concerts he holds.

when they were done performing, backstage he quickly changed his clothes and took his things to run home. he didn’t even care enough to greet his members, all he wanted was you.

when you hear the front door open, you almost squeal out of excitement. you fix up your hair a bit, covering yourself with the blanket on your bed.

he drops all his things just to burst through the bedroom.

he eyes you up and down, his gaze changing suddenly when he sees you.

he walks over to you, already talking his jacket off.

“let me give you what you want love, you deserve it.” he growls, dragging you out of bed. your body gets exposed to him like this, and he can’t help but run his hands all over you. he picks you up just to squeeze you between him and the wall. you feel his hard cock against your panties as he’s smirking.

you grab onto the collar of his shirt, whining at him. “pleaseee fuck me already. i was a good girl, i didn’t cum yet.” you feel proud of yourself, and he gives you a kiss for that.

“you are a good girl, but not good enough for me not to punish you. know that right?” you nod. but you don’t mind. you wrap your arms around his neck, hoping for the best.

he throws you back onto the bed, getting on top of you. he doesn’t hesitate taking off his shirt while smiling at you. he leans in for another kiss before running his hands up your undershirt to cup your breasts. he plays with them, tugging on your nipples and pinching your skin. you know how much he loves them, and you love when he plays with them. then he just takes off your undershirt, wanting to see them in their glory.

you try reaching to touch his abs, but he quickly takes off his belt to tie your hands above your head with it. you look at him while pouting but he doesn’t buy any of it.

“no pouting and no touching slut, this is what you get. next time watch what you do.” you nod, looking down.

as he’s about to take your panties off, he notices how wet you are, scoffing.

“talk about me being hard, look at you slut. you’re so wet just for me.. that’s how i love it.” he chuckles, sliding them off you too easily.

he parts your legs, rubbing your pussy a bit before inserting his fingers inside you.

you instantly moan, bouncing up and down trying to move around on his fingers.

he slaps your pussy, making you stop. “did i tell you to do that? oh you’re getting on my nerves whore. sit still before i have to tie you up whole.”

you gulp, apologising in a sweet voice. “im sorry.. daddy.” he clicks his tongue. “that’s better. keep your legs open for me.” he takes his fingers out of you, leaving such emptiness within you.

he takes off his pants and boxers in one move.

he’s way too needy to waste time right now, but he’s down to teasing you any time.

he starts fisting his cock, right with you watching with your legs open. he gives himself deep strokes, groaning a bit with each one. you’re sitting there craving his cock too bad to be cutting with this right now. you start doing what you’re best at, whining.

“what are you doing… please fuck me alreadyyyy i feel way better than your hand pleaseee..” you’re pathetic whining and begging like that, but it does the job in convincing him.

without saying a word, he shoves it all inside you. he doesn’t give you any time to adjust, making you scream out of frustration.

“you stretched yourself enough with your fingers thinking about me, be quiet before i make you keep your mouth closed.”

you try keeping quiet as he’s thrusting into you at whatever pace he wants, moaning every few thrusts. the heat in your stomach gets more and more unbearable, you let out small noises and he’s fine with that.

“you’re such.. a slut..begging me.. to fuck you.. you’re all mine.” you nod frantically.

“..i’m all yours… only yours.. fuck daddy pleaseee..”

he picks his pace up upon hearing the new nickname you chose again, pulling at your hair little by little.

you clench around him as you’re about to cum and he keeps your legs wide open, grabbing them harder. “let me.. make you cum pretty girl..”

and you do just that, you furrow your eyebrows as you cum all over him. all over his abs and the covers.

he hisses as you’re cumming, enjoying your quiet moans.

he leans in to rest his head in the crook of your neck, fucking into you even faster than before.

you wrap your legs around him, expecting for him to cum soon.

you’re right, and without saying a word he’s convinced you’re letting him cum inside you.

he thrusts into you a few more times before letting out a moan as he’s cumming in you filling you up.

you roll your eyes back, enjoying the feeling too badly.

after a bit he sits up, making you sit on his lap. your arms still tied, you give him a kiss.

“i’ll use you the whole night you whore, you’ll regret sending those pictures.” he says in a low voice.

you’re willing to let him use you, this was your reasoning on why those photos exist. you want him to use you, knowing that you give him more pleasure than anyone could.

you just smile, knowing your plan worked.

“use me up, cum inside me just how you love it. until you stop seeing red.”

[megumismyhusband]

megumi sat at his desk, his pen paused over a stack of paperwork. he stared blankly at the page, his thoughts somewhere else entirely. absentmindedly, he reached for his wedding ring, a habit of his whenever he was deep in thought. he would spin it on his finger, the subtle weight grounding him, reminding him of home.

but today, his finger was bare.

his heart dropped as the realization hit him. his ring. he’d forgotten it.

megumi’s mind raced, replaying his morning routine. he’d set it on the nightstand before his shower—he always did—but in his rush to leave, he must have forgotten to put it back on. the guilt hit him instantly, a dull ache settling in his chest.

how could he forget something so important?

the rest of his day passed in a blur of half-hearted focus. every time he looked at his hand, the absence of the ring mocked him. by the time he returned home, he’d already planned multiple ways to apologize.

as he stepped into the house, he found her in the living room, stretched out on the couch with a book in her hands. she looked up, her face lighting up with a smile that, despite his self-imposed guilt, managed to ease some of his tension.

“you’re home,” she greeted warmly, setting the book down.

“y/n,” he started, his tone heavy with regret. “I… I forgot my ring today.” he held up his left hand, his finger still bare. “I didn’t realize until I was already at work. I’m sorry. I—”

y/n tilted her head, confused, and then a small laugh bubbled from her lips. “that’s it? megumi, it’s fine. I noticed it on the nightstand this morning. I figured you’d just forgotten.”

“but—”

“no buts,” she interrupted, her voice gentle. “It’s okay. really.”

megumi wasn’t convinced. his brows knit together as he straightened. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said firmly, heading toward the kitchen before she could protest.

y/n tried to stop him, but he was already pulling out ingredients, his focus locked in on the task. she shook her head, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched him work.

it was impossible not to find his stubborn guilt endearing.

when dinner was ready, they sat down together, and y/n couldn’t help but tease him as he nervously glanced her way after every bite.

“It’s all good, gumi,” she said with a grin. “quit worrying so much.”

later, they curled up on the couch under a cozy blanket, a movie playing softly in the background. megumi’s arm was draped around her shoulders, his fingers brushing over her arm in quiet affection.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

y/n turned to him, her expression equal parts fond and exasperated. “you’ve apologized enough. you didn’t forget me, gumi. You forgot a ring. It’s okay.”

he sighed, leaning his head against hers. “I’ll never forget it again.”

she laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “you’re impossible.”

“I love you,” he murmurs. “more than anything in the world.”

[thesecondhandwoman]

(SPOILERS FOR ACT THREE)

HOLDING ON TO HER

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: It had been a few days after the fight that commenced between Noxus and Viktor’s creations, and only a few days after everyone had experienced the Arcane. Sevika was still traumatized from the experience, and desperately needed comfort. Specifically your comfort.

Sevika could feel the weight of the world bearing down on her. The words she told herself every day, the ones she used to push through the chaos of life, weren’t working anymore. Her mind was a battlefield, a storm of memories that she couldn’t fight off—memories of that moment when the arcane had taken over, when she had lost control of her own body, and when she felt her very soul pulled in every direction by something greater than herself.

The recent battle had left scars on her mind, ones that she couldn’t shake no matter how much time passed. The way her limbs had moved of their own accord, the feeling of her body betraying her, as if she were nothing more than a vessel for something dark and otherworldly. It made her sick to her stomach. Her thoughts were constantly tangled with those memories. She couldn’t stop replaying the way the arcane had twisted her body, forced her to fight against her will, made her want to fight against her own nature. But it hadn’t just been the physical invasion. The worst part was the helplessness—the suffocating sensation of being trapped in her own skin, of not being able to escape the dark, searing touch that had commanded her every move.

And now, she was here. Alone in their shared apartment in Zaun, the light from the flickering street lamps casting long shadows across the room. The smell of iron, old grease, and gunpowder that clung to her skin was still there, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, her body ached from the fight, but it was her mind that was the true battlefront. She hadn’t even been able to fully comprehend what happened when those things—Viktor’s disgusting creations—had touched her, her mind still fragmented from the sheer chaos.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, as though she could hold all the parts of her that were broken into one piece. Every breath was a reminder of the weight she carried inside, a weight that had only grown heavier since the fight that commenced only a few days ago.

“Sevika?” A soft voice broke through the fog in her mind.

You stood in the doorway, your figure framed by the dim glow of the hallway light. Your eyes were soft with concern, and Sevika could see the way you moved cautiously toward her, not wanting to disturb her but knowing that she needed you. She felt a pang in her chest at the sight of you. You had always been a source of comfort for her, even before everything with Viktor. But now, in this moment of darkness, she felt undeserving of your kindness, your warmth.

You knelt down in front of her, gently taking her hands into your own. The touch was grounding, a lifeline thrown to her in a sea of uncertainty. You didn’t speak at first. You didn’t need to. The silence was heavy, but in it, you offered her the thing she needed most—presence. Your unwavering presence.

“I’m sorry,” Sevika whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking as she squeezed your hands tightly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t get rid of it. The memories. The way it felt to not be in control. The way they… they touched me, forced me to be something I’m not.”

You shook your head, your thumbs gently brushing the backs of her hands. “You don’t have to apologize, Sevika. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

She closed her eyes, trying to push the images away, but they flooded back in an instant. The way her body had been jerked and twisted by forces beyond her understanding. The gnawing feeling that she wasn’t her own person anymore, that she wasn’t Sevika—that she was just an extension of the arcane, a puppet on invisible strings. And when they had tried to make her feel normal, to want to be free, it had felt like a mockery.

“I don’t want to feel like this,” Sevika choked out, her voice barely audible. “I hate it. I hate feeling weak. I’ve never felt weaker in my life. They… they made me want things I can’t have, things I’m not supposed to have. I didn’t even know how to fight it, and even with them gone, they still feel like they are there.”

You leaned forward, your forehead gently pressing against hers, and for a moment, everything in the room felt still. The pain in her chest didn’t disappear, but your warmth was a soothing balm. You didn’t say anything for a long time, just holding her in the silence, letting her feel you there.

She needed you, more than she ever had before, but she didn’t know how to ask for it.

“I know,” you whispered softly, your fingers now caressing her cheek with the gentleness only you could offer. “I know, Sev. I’ve been there. I felt it too… I know what it’s like when the arcane takes control. When it feels like you’re losing yourself. But you’re not weak. Not to me. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Her breath hitched at your words, and she could feel the pressure in her chest lift ever so slightly. She wanted to argue, to tell you that you didn’t understand, that she didn’t deserve to be held, to be comforted. But something in the way you looked at her—something in the warmth of your hands on her skin—stopped her.

Your thumb brushed over the tear that had fallen down her cheek, your gaze never wavering from hers. “You’re not alone, Sevika. I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

She felt herself break, the dam she had carefully built over the years cracking open. The weight of everything—the trauma, the guilt, the terror—came flooding out in hot, silent tears. You didn’t let go of her hands, didn’t pull away. You stayed with her as she cried, your embrace comforting and steadfast.

As the sobs began to wrack her body, you wrapped your arms around her tightly, pressing her face into the crook of your neck. “It’s okay to feel like this, Sevika. It’s okay to need someone, especially now. You don’t have to be the strong one all the time.”

The way your arms enveloped her, the way you kissed her forehead softly, telling her that she was safe with you, slowly started to ease the storm inside her heart.

“I was so scared, Y/N,” Sevika whispered, her voice muffled against your skin. “I was so scared of what they were trying to make. Of what they made me feel. I don’t know how to fix myself after all of that.”

You pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, wiping away the last remnants of her tears. “You’re not broken, Sev. You’re healing. And we’ll heal together. One step at a time.”

And with that promise, she believed you. For the first time in what felt like forever, Sevika let herself lean into the love and safety you offered her. The trauma of the arcane wouldn’t disappear overnight, but she knew, deep down, that with you by her side, she didn’t have to face it alone.

You kissed her gently, a soft press of your lips to hers that spoke more than words ever could. It was a promise, a reassurance, that no matter what darkness she faced, she’d never have to fight it alone.

Sevika finally let herself rest in your arms, the world outside no longer so cold. She was safe here. With you.

[7ndipity]

Every Little Thing

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: When you overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy you’ve been lately, you decide to take a step back from your friendship to give him space. But your sudden absence goes far from unnoticed by him.

Word Count: 2k(wtf?!)

Warnings: angst, swearing, only partially proofread

A/N: Thanks so much to the lovely anon who requested this! This story, I... I don’t know what happened, I went from struggling to get it to work at all to getting waayy too carried away. I kinda had to stop myself at the end before it shifted into something else, but maybe if y’all want a part two, we can pick up from there?

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

As you got off the elevator, you couldn’t help the faint bounce in your step as you made your way to Yoongi’s studio, your bag slung over one shoulder, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks for the two of you to share.

Ever since you and Yoongi(and in turn, the rest of the members) had become friends, The Genius Lab had become a hideaway of sorts for you. Whenever you were feeling stressed or overwhelmed, you knew you could call Yoongi, and he would tell you to come over, letting you camp out on his couch while he worked, occasionally asking for your thoughts or opinions on a specific song or line.

As you neared his studio door, you noticed it was slightly ajar, allowing the voices from inside to slip out into the hall, quickly recognizing them as Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s.

“You wanna come to lunch with me and Hoseok?” Namjoon asked.

“Agh, I can’t, I told Y/n’s we could hang out today.” You heard Yoongi’s chair creak as he stretched, letting out a groan.

“Again? That’s like the third time this week, people are gonna start thinking you’re a couple or something at this rate.” Joon joked, making your cheeks flush lightly.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that,” Yoongi replied, sounding tired. “They’re just being clingier than usual, you know what they’re like.”

You frowned at his words. What did he mean by that?

“I know it’s just cause they’ve been stressed lately,” Yoongi continued. “But honestly, it’s gotten to the point where it’s weirder for them to not be here.”

Joon chuckled. “I’m surprised you don’t find that annoying.”

“I didn’t say that I don’t,” Yoongi said. “But it’s Y/n, so I let it slide. Anyway, on that track you showed me-”

You stepped back from the door, the sudden tightness in your chest making it slightly difficult to breathe as you quietly made your back down the hall to the elevators. As the metal doors closed, you replayed what you had overheard in your head.

Yoongi had always told you that he didn’t mind you hanging around, but maybe you had started to abuse that privilege, grown too dependent on him. Was that how he really felt about you? Had you become a nuisance? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything?

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you quickly found his number and hit the call icon, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat before he picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, are you almost here?” He answered, sounding much brighter than a few minutes ago.

“Uh, actually, I don’t think I can make it today.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, concerned.

No, one of my best friends hates me. “Yeah, everything’s fine, something just came up, sorry.” You bit your lip, managing to slip out of the building without running into any of the other members and making your way down the street to the bus stop.

“Okay.” He sounded unconvinced. “Is it anything I can help with, or-?”

“No, no it’s-, it’s a work thing.” You said, the words falling flat on your own ears. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright.” He said reluctantly. “Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up, letting out a deep breath.

You could tell he hadn’t believed you, but you didn’t really care at the moment. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, why should you be any different?

Suddenly presented with the afternoon to yourself, you decided to head to the park, wandering along the river as you thought over everything.

You and Yoongi had come here together not long after you had moved to the city, the last few blooms of the cherry blossom season clinging on stubbornly to their branches. He’d promised to bring you back the next year, so you could see them in their full glory at peak bloom.

Of course, life and work had gotten in the way, as they often did, and before either of you had realized, the season had nearly passed again before he could keep his word. You’d told him at the time that it didn’t matter, you’d just been happy to spend time with him, a recurring theme for you apparently…

Had you been a bother to him back then as well? You didn’t believe so, but the earlier sting of his words had left you questioning everything, even if you knew it might be an over-reaction.

It was dark by the time you made it home, flopping down on the sofa with a tired sigh as you contemplated your options.

So you’d been bugging him lately, that was an easily fixable problem, right? Just leave him alone for a bit, it was as simple as that, wasn’t it?

You weren’t so sure as your phone suddenly buzzed on the cushion next to you, drawing your attention to Yoongi’s name illuminated on the screen. You’d forgotten you said you’d call him.

‘Hadn’t heard from you, just wanted to make sure you’re okay?’ The text read.

Now who’s the clingy one? Was your immediate first thought.

‘I’m fine, just tired. Talk to you tomorrow.’ You typed shortly before turning off your phone and going to bed, with no intention of texting him the next day unless he did so first.

For the next week, you tried to keep up with your new normal; you didn’t go by the studio, you avoided texting him unless he did first, and generally avoided his invites to hangout with vague excuses.

One place you couldn’t avoid him though was dinner with the other members. It was a monthly tradition that you usually looked forward to, but as you stepped through the door of the restaurant, you only felt a wave of nervousness, for what though exactly you didn’t know.

“Y/n!” Tae quickly hopped to his feet to give you a hug, the others all greeting you enthusiastically. You noticed Yoongi didn’t speak, only nodding to you politely, but his eyes never left you for a second, seeming to study your every move.

“Y/n, do you want my seat? I know you usually prefer to sit by Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook asked, starting to get to his feet, but you quickly waved him to sit.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to move for me, I’m fine over here.” You said, settling in the free seat next to Jimin, which happened to be directly across the table from Yoongi.

Everyone quickly settled into their usual routines and conversations, the mix of voices blurring into an almost comforting buzz, allowing you to zone out for a moment and relax, but a single low voice managed to snap you back to attention.

“I haven’t seen you all week.” Yoongi said quietly, a noticeable heaviness in his voice.

“Yeah, things have just been kinda busy.” You tried to say convincingly, but it was hard to pull off under his gaze. Luckily, Jin asked you about something from the show you’d been watching and gave you an easy out of the conversation.

You managed to get through the evening well enough, talking with the others, even making plans with Jimin for him to help you pick out some new furniture for your apartment. You’d felt Yoongi’s eyes on you all evening, but hadn’t said anything.

It was later that night when you were pulled from sleep by the sound of someone knocking persistently on your front door.

Cautiously, you climbed out of bed and padded to the door.

Who’s there?” You called anxiously, trying to remember where you’d put your old baseball bat, in case you needed to defend yourself.

“It’s Yoongi.”

You froze, staring at the door in surprise for a second before going over and peering out the peephole.

Sure enough, he was standing on your doorstep, causing a brief sense of relief that was quickly replaced with confusion and the same nervousness from earlier.

Not quite knowing what else to do, you cracked the door open slowly, taking in his slightly disheveled state; hair mussed and faint bags under his eyes. He looked the same way as when he would pull all-nighters at the studio.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Why’ve you been avoiding me?” He responded with his own question, staring you down.

“I-, I haven’t-”

“Don’t lie.” He stopped you.

Glancing around quickly, you pulled him inside, not wanting to have this discussion in the hall.

“You’ve been dodging my texts and calls, you wouldn’t sit with me at dinner, you asked Jimin for help with furniture shopping, which you know he’s terrible at.” He continued as you closed the door. “So, tell me please, what has happened to make you start ditching me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that I was annoying you?” You snapped.

He stopped, staring at you in confusion. “What?”

“I heard you and Joon talking last week,” You said, his face falling as the memory came flooding back. “About how clingy I’ve been, and how I’ve been annoying you by hanging around so much.”

“You haven’t been-”

“Don’t.” It was your turn to cut him off. “Don’t try to tell me that it’s not true or you didn’t mean it. What I want to know is why you weren’t just honest with me?” You hated the way your voice started to shake as you spoke. “Why didn’t you just tell me to fuck off or something? Why do you put up with me if I'm such an annoyance?!”

“Because I fucking love you!” He blurted out.

You froze, staring at him in shock. “What?!”

“I-, I love you.” He said quietly.

“You love me?” You repeated, hurt and frustration still churning in your stomach, not letting you take his words to heart. “You love me, but you think I’m annoying?”

“I think everyone’s annoying!” He tossed his hands up in frustration. “The difference is that I like your annoyance!

“I like that you’re loud and weird and make terrible jokes, I like that you nag me to take better care of myself.” He said. “I like that you’re happy holed up in my studio with me. I like that you sing along to every song that you recognize, even without realizing that you’re doing it.”

He took a cautious step closer, pleading with his eyes as he spoke.

“I like every little annoying thing that you do, because they’re what make you you. I’m so sorry that I made you think anything otherwise.”

You hadn’t moved as he spoke, fighting the tremble in your lip as your eyes had misted over with tears.

“Y/n?” He asked anxiously.

You didn’t speak, choosing instead to lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him in a bruising hug. He staggering back slightly at the force of the collision, arms immediately coming up to hold you in an equally tight embrace.

“I missed you.” You sniffled, burying your face in his chest.

“I missed you too.” He replied, holding you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “I’m also sorry for telling you I loved you in a shitty way.”

“Eh, it’s kinda on brand for us, honestly.” You teased, making him let out a huff of laughter.

“I guess you’re right, fuck.” He shook his head.

“You wanna try again?” You offered.

He pulled back to look at you. “Really?”

You nodded. “If you want to.”

He nodded, pulling away enough to take your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his lips together nervously, eyes shaking slightly as he met your gaze.

“I love you, Y/n.”

He’d barely gotten the last word out before your lips were on his, effectively shutting you both up for the next several minutes.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were blown wide, lips swollen and red from your assault, his breaths coming out in shaky puffs.

“I love you too, by the way.” You said, grinning at his slightly dazed expression.

“Cool, c’mere.” He said, pulling you back in, making you giggle as he eagerly reconnected your mouths.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[miirohs]

birds of a feather [k.s]

pairing: Ken Sato x GN!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: bad hurt/comfort (?) an: i got that skibidi found family type brainrot fs 😂 on gyatt.... anyways i promise i will get back to writing formula one but i need to simp for this man solidly. also i can't write hurt/comfort ive said this a million times but ugh man does it suck to write.

The house in Japan was a lot more peaceful than the one in the States. More secluded, quietly overlooking the city. 

Every day you came home from work, the house dark and empty with Ken gone to his other job.

You didn’t bother him about it, keeping the delicate balance between his two jobs. You didn’t mind it either. It gave you time to yourself, time to adjust, but you weren’t sure you could’ve said the same about Ken.

Ever since his last run-in with the KDF, he’d been exhausted. His eyebags only grew instead of shrinking, and his watch went off almost every possible moment it could. You had asked him what was wrong, but he’d never been one to let you lick his wounds for him, watering it down to some kind of side effect of the stress on him.

Unlocking the doors, you hopped inside, pulling your shoes off as you looked around.

You could hear the tv running in the background, the clinking ice against metal. It wasn’t strange for him to be off duty after games, but you just assumed he wouldn’t be.

The beatdown was probably worse than usual, if you had to guess.

You wandered into the living room, and there he was, sitting in his ice bath. You couldn’t see much because of how dark the room was, but part of his face was lit by the replays on the screen. 

You could almost make out his eyes narrowing at the screen, huffing as he sunk deeper into the water.

“Ken?” He turned to you, eyes pained as he pushed himself up.

“Hi baby.” He greeted softly, a hand tenderly moving to his side as he turned to you.

“Are you okay-“

“I’m fine.” You flinched at the strained quality of his voice.

“My bad. I was just trying to check on you.” You mumbled, holding up your hands as you stood stuck to your spot.

He saw, and his eyes softened, extending an inviting hand to you.

“I’m sorry. The seasons been kind of rough lately.” He murmured as he held your hand gently, squeezing it.

You hummed in response, eyes trailing down the expanse of his body. You could see some bruising, blooming in splotches of yellow, purple and red under his skin. It looked like it hurt.

“I’m taking it you got into a fight on field?”

“Not this time, no,” He scoffed, leaning against the warmth of your hand, “I collapsed, tried crawling my way to the last base, and failed. I was so close to getting those points.” The last part was tinged with embarrassment, his face pulled into a grimace as your hand ran across his arm.

“That's terrible, I'm sorry Ji.” He shrugged, eyes staring ahead at the screen, those embarrassing scenes reflecting back in his eyes. “It is what it is.”

“So you’re off duty tonight then?” He sighed, nodding reluctantly.

“For now, but who knows?” He said sullenly. You couldn’t stop your hopes from crashing entirely, hand slipping out of his unconsciously.

“Don’t look at me like that, you know how it is. I can’t control what happens, I…” He stopped, a look of regret creeping onto his face.

“I'll join you in a bit. Promise I'll try not to leave tonight?” He tried softly, looking at you with poorly disguised hope in his eyes. 

It worked, and you released the breath you were holding.

“You’ll be okay?”

He didn’t respond, and you didn’t push him for one, quietly leaving the room.

True to his word, he appeared at the door an hour later, dragging himself across the threshold. He looked worse than he did earlier, wincing slightly as he sat down on the edge of the bed, hunched over into himself.

“That must have been one really good ice bath…” You trailed off, eyes narrowing at the various injuries on his arm.

“Those look awfully fresh Ji, did you at least get Mina to look at those?” 

“No! No. Uh, no. I didn’t want her to.” He spluttered, crossing his arms. You couldn’t see his face, but you could almost imagine the expression he was making.

“Take off your shirt.” He blinked, a baffled look on his face as turned to you.

“No, why the-“

“Take off your shirt Ken, don’t make me say it again.”

He crossed his arms tighter as you got closer, hand outstretched. You paused, looking at him.

“Would you be okay with me looking?”

He nodded reluctantly, grumbling about not wanting to make a big deal out of it. He had turned away from you, breathing uneven as you got closer.

You pulled up his shirt, heart thumping at the sight. It was worse than what you’d seen earlier.

“Ji, what is this? How…?” He didn’t respond immediately, rubbing his face as he took a deep breath

“I didn’t think they were that bad,” He muttered, wincing as he pulled the shirt over his head, holding it in his hands tightly, “Not as bad as they were last week, babe.”

“How did you even get these?” You questioned, finger tracing up his spine, avoiding the poorly bandaged cuts and bruising.

“Do I have to tell you?” He said, flustering you with the defensiveness in his tone. 

“No. No, you don’t have to.” You reaffirmed quietly, returning to your side of the bed to rummage through your night chest till you found what you needed. “But I would’ve liked it if you did.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I figured it would be. Hold still for me?” 

You shook the bottle of neosporin, spraying down the wounds. He tensed up, a squeak escaping his lips.

“It hurts!” 

“Would you rather Mina do it?”

He shook his head. 

“That’s what I thought. Luckily these were already somewhat decently clean. That bruising looks like a muscle injury though.” You whistled, setting down the neosporin in favor of some bandaids. 

He continued to let him work on your, mostly silent other than the occasional wincing. You could tell he was trying his hardest to play tough, unaware you could see through it all.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” He muttered suddenly, fists clenching the bedsheets as you gently laid the bandages on his back. “It’s not fair to you.”

“Kenji, I know it's tough for you, but I'm here because I want to be. I care about you." You scooted to the edge of the bed, looping a hand into his loosening fist.

The dim lights highlighted the sharpness of his face, eyes cutting through the dimmed light as they looked out the window. He looked beautiful, as exhausted as he was.

“I want to tell you. I don’t know if there will ever be a right time for you, and you deserve better than me being on the move all day and night.”

“Nope.” You popped the p, clutching his hand tighter. “We promised to stick together, remember? Hell, I followed you all the way from the states because I was confident we could work together. So, I need you to speak to me. Make it work.”

A heartbeat passed. And then he spoke.

“The pressure, the expectations... I feel like I'm constantly running, trying to keep up." He confessed quietly, “There's a lot riding on what I’ve done.”

“Something tells me you’re not talking about baseball.”

“I’m not,” He laughed humorlessly, “I’m just worried I’m not doing enough. That I’m not enough.”

"Ken," you said softly, turning to him “I can’t pretend to understand what you do, but you’re making so many people proud. Your mother, your father, me.”

His eyes were glossed over, and he brought up an arm to cover them, sniffing slightly.

“I hope you know I’m here for you. Birds of a feather, we gotta stick together, you know? I’d follow you to hell and back Ken, and you know that.” You continued, bringing up his hand to press a kiss to it.

He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the tears. "Thank you," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "For everything."

“Of course,” you replied, leaning against him carefully.

“The next time you get injured, just let Mina or me know, understand?”

“Perfectly.”

[beloveds-embrace]

I love your writing so so much, it brings me so much joy and comfort too!! Sometimes all I need is to think about those strong men protecting me when I need and your work is the the best example I could ask for <333

Do you have any new thoughts on the roommate au?? I am such a sucker for this trope and yours is just aaaaaaaaa fantastic

Thank you sm!! 🫶🏻💕💕 i will always have thoughts about them trust i love them 🙏🏻

Roommate au masterlist

Listen, if you get anxious easily about not turning things off when you leave the apartment and the boys aren’t home, you video it and send it to them, and they adore how you act and look in those clips.

It started as something small- just you filming the stove knobs and unplugged appliances, your voice soft as you narrated each check for the camera. “Oven off. Stove knobs turned off. Coffee maker unplugged. Straightener unplugged and cooled down.” You’d pan the camera slowly, sometimes with shaky hands, capturing every detail just to ease your own nerves and show them that you can, in fact, be trusted.

The first time you sent one, Kyle responded immediately with a thumbs-up emoji and a text that said, “Looks good, love. Don’t worry about a thing.” But what you didn’t realize was how intently he’d stared at the video before replying, noting the way your lip caught between your teeth as you whispered to yourself, your brows furrowed in concentration. He didn’t tell you, but he saved it to his phone, alongside the others that followed.

Price had been the one to gently encourage you to keep sending the videos. He called it a “good habit,” his voice steady and reassuring. “It’s smart of you to double-check. Just send ’em over anytime, sweetheart. We’ll always let you know if it’s all clear.” But even he couldn’t help how warm he felt when he watched them- when he saw your sleepy eyes and bedhead on mornings you had to leave early, or the way you looked in a cozy sweater with your phone angled slightly upward as you held it with both hands.

Simon never said much about the videos, but you could always tell he watched them immediately. He’d text back short replies- “Checked.” or “You’re good.”- but what you didn’t know was how many times he replayed them. There was something about seeing you move around the kitchen, your voice quiet and trusting, that set him at ease. If he was away, somewhere cold and distant, those clips grounded him. They reminded him what he was protecting, what was waiting for him back home.

Johnny, on the other hand, teased you endlessly the first few times. “Afraid the toaster’s gonna grow legs, bonnie? Or maybe the microwave’s plannin’ world domination?” But the teasing softened quickly, especially when he caught one video where you lingered a little longer than usual, chewing on your lip before whispering, “I think I checked everything. But I’m still worried. Is it okay?” His teasing stopped completely after that. Instead, he started sending voice messages back.

“You’re fine, love. Swear it. Everything’s perfect. But if you need me to check it again later, just say the word.”

And they all noticed the way you fidgeted- how you tugged your sleeves over your hands or adjusted the strap of your bag. They noticed the way you bit back a nervous smile after saying goodbye to the camera, even if it was just to show them one last shot of the locked door.

What you didn’t realize was how much those videos had become part of their routine- how they looked forward to seeing your face and hearing your voice, even if it was just to confirm the stove was off.

Over time, they noticed the changes- the steadier voice, the quick smiles, the trust woven into your words. You started teasing them in the clips, calling Johnny out for double-checking the oven too often or joking that Simon should inspect the locks himself next time.

They replayed those moments more than they’d admit, holding onto your voice during long nights away. And when they finally came home, they saw the difference the way you leaned into them, letting them take care of everything.

[uniquexusposts]

But they still cheated | M. Verstappen (1)

Summary: Y/n finds out about a massive family drama; a cheating scandal. When she is lost, Max comforts her

Part 1 Part 3

The rain poured steadily, blurring the lights of the yachts docked along the harbour of Monaco. Y/n trudged along the waterfront, her ruined leather boots splashing through shallow puddles. The rain was cold against her skin, but she welcomed it; it numbed her, just a little.

She couldn’t remember how long she had been walking, nor did she care. Her mind replayed the conversation she wished she hadn’t been part of. Every word felt like a knife, carving through her chest until there was nothing left but a hollow ache. Every word she replayed in her head made her stomach shake, but no tears came. She had cried so much already, it felt like there was nothing left.

“Y/n?”

The voice startled her, cutting through the rhythm of raindrops hitting the pavement. She froze, her head turning toward the sound.

Max Verstappen, her brother’s best friend, stood a few metres away, rain dripping from his hair and running down his face. He was dressed in athletic gear, his usual evening run interrupted by the sight of her. His blue eyes, sharp and perceptive, scanned her soaked figure.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Y/n swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away. “Nothing,” she muttered, her voice hoarse.

“You’re drenched.” He took a step closer, his tone softening. “What’s going on, Y/n?”

“I’m fine,” she lied, brushing past him.

He reached out, his hand lightly grazing her arm to stop her. “You’re not fine,” he said firmly.

She shook her head, biting back the lump in her throat. “I don’t want to talk.”

He studied her for a moment, his jaw tightening. He wasn’t one to push, but he also wasn’t about to leave her wandering the streets like this. “Come with me,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Y/n hesitated, her shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. She didn’t have the strength to argue, nor the will to keep wandering through the rain. With a reluctant nod, she let out a shuddering breath and followed him to his apartment in silence.

When they arrived at Max’s apartment, Y/n stopped just inside the door, her feet rooted to the doormat as water dripped from her soaked clothes. She sniffed, her gaze locked on her ruined leather boots - the ones she had saved for and finally splurged on. The sight should have stung, but instead, it left her numb.

“Y/n?”

The sound of her name jolted her, and she snapped her head up, meeting his gaze. The air felt thick in her lungs, pressing against her ribcage as she stared into his concerned blue eyes.

He watched her, waiting for an answer, but the empty look on her face told him she hadn’t even registered his question. His expression softened as he noticed the redness around her eyes and the unmistakable signs of tears.

“You can take a shower if you want,” he offered gently. “I’ll grab you some dry clothes.” Without waiting for a reply, Max left and returned quickly with a hoodie, a t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and two towels. He placed the small pile in her hands. “These should fit.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“You can use the bathroom,” he added quietly when she didn’t move. “You don’t need to stand here until you’re dry.”

Y/n blinked, glancing around as if noticing her surroundings for the first time. “Oh… right. Sorry,” she said, her voice distant. She set the clothes on a nearby dresser and bent down to unzip her boots, the leather squelching slightly. Once they were off, she padded toward the bathroom without another word.

Inside, peeling off her wet clothes was its own battle. Each item felt heavier than it should, as though the weight of the evening had seeped into the fabric. But after what felt like an eternity, she managed to dry off with one towel, wrapping the other around her hair before slipping into Max’s clothes. They were warm and smelled faintly of him; clean, familiar.

She piled her damp clothes in the corner, tied her hair into a high bun, and walked to the living room. The sound of quiet movement drew her attention to the kitchen, where Max was tidying up. He had changed into dry clothes himself, a loose hoodie and joggers that made him look effortlessly casual.

When he noticed her, he gestured toward the couch. “Take a seat,” he said simply.

Y/n hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to stay on her feet, to keep moving, to avoid sinking into her thoughts. But the heaviness in her chest left her too drained to resist. She lowered herself onto the couch, her hands falling limply into her lap. A few moments later, Max appeared with a steaming mug of tea. He set it gently on the table in front of her before taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch.

She stared at the mug, her hands still motionless.

The tea he specially bought for her because he didn’t own any bag of tea, but she liked it.

Max didn’t drink tea. The realisation tugged at something deep inside her, loosening the tight knot in her chest ever so slightly.

The room fell into a calm silence, broken only by the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows. She could feel Max’s gaze on her, steady and patient, but he didn’t say a word. He gave her space, the kind she hadn’t realised she desperately needed.

Minutes passed, and finally, the tears she thought she had exhausted began to fall again. At first, they were silent, sliding down her cheeks unnoticed. Then they came harder, in shaking sobs that made her chest heave.

Max shifted closer, his movements careful and deliberate, as if afraid he might shatter her further. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in a protective embrace. He didn’t speak, didn’t ask questions; he simply held her, letting her crumble in the safety of his arms.

“I can’t-” Y/n’s voice cracked as she tried to speak. The words lodged in her throat, too tangled with emotion to come out. She buried her face in her hands, her sobs muffled but relentless.

“It’s okay,” Max murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Take your time.”

His words, simple and unpressured, broke through the storm of her grief. For the first time in hours, she allowed herself to lean into the warmth and stability of someone else.

After a while, her sobs quieted, and she pulled away from him, her eyes still glistening with tears. “It’s… it’s stupid and awful at the same time,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She hesitated, then met his gaze, her expression raw and vulnerable.

Max felt his chest tighten. He reached out, gently brushing away the tears on her cheeks with his thumb. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said softly, “but you don’t have to go through it alone, either.”

Y/n looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “Uhm…” Her voice wavered, and fresh tears pooled in her eyes. The lump in her throat thickened, almost choking her words. “Mum cheated on dad,” she said finally, the confession spilling out like a dam breaking. Her voice cracked again as she added, “Mum cheated with Patrick.”

He froze, his face straightening in disbelief. “Patrick?” he repeated, his voice quiet but tinged with shock. “As in… your boyfriend?”

Y/n nodded, her gaze dropping to her lap as tears slid down her cheeks once more.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, his jaw tightening as he processed what she had just said. Anger flickered in his eyes, but he kept his voice calm for her sake. “Y/n…” he began, struggling to find the right words.

She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it? I mean, we were just a couple of months into dating, but I thought we had something. I thought he cared about me, but all this time-” Her voice broke, and she pressed her palms to her eyes as if trying to block out the reality of it. “He cheated on me with my own mother.”

His expression hardened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes, though it wasn’t directed at her. He leaned forward, his voice low and firm. “It’s not pathetic,” he interrupted, his tone steady and unyielding, leaving no room for doubt. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t deserve this. Not from him, not from her, not from anyone.”He reached out, his hands wrapping gently around her wrists, a silent but clear gesture encouraging her to lower them. “Y/n,” he whispered, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

She sniffled, hesitating before slowly lowering her hands. Her tear-streaked face emerged, her cheeks flushed and her eyes swollen from crying. When she finally met his gaze, the intensity in his eyes made her breath hitch. There was no pity there, only a fierce protectiveness that made her chest tighten.

“I mean it,” he continued, his voice unwavering. “You’re allowed to feel hurt, betrayed, and angry, but don’t you dare think for a second that any of this makes you weak or foolish. You trusted someone, and they let you down. That’s on them, not you.”

Her lips trembled as fresh tears welled up, but this time, they weren’t from despair alone. There was something reassuring in his presence, a steadiness she hadn’t realised she needed until now.

“I don’t know how to deal with this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s too much.”

His hand shifted to gently hold hers, grounding her. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” he said. “One step at a time.”

She nodded, a faint glimmer of trust in her eyes as she let his words sink in. The weight in her chest didn’t disappear, but with him beside her, it felt just a little easier to bear. When he leaned in to take her into his arms again, she didn’t hesitate this time. She pressed her face into his shoulder, her arms wrapping tightly around him as if holding onto a lifeline. The warmth of his embrace seeped into her, steady and unyielding, grounding her in a way she desperately needed.

“I never liked that asshole from the beginning,” he mumbled against her hair, his voice low but firm.

Part 2

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @ironmaiden1313 @blodwyn4u @sltwins @heart-trees

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ sad girl ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! there is also a part one to this story, million dollar man! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ one week had passed since your boyfriend, sang-woo, reappeared in your life under strange circumstances that made your blood run cold. for two agonizing weeks, he had vanished without explanation. then, he returned, battered and hollow-eyed, his face bearing scars that seemed etched not only into his skin but into his very soul. he had come to your door clutching a bag of cash, his body trembling, his clothes soaked with sweat. “wait for me,” he had whispered, his voice hoarse and desperate. you promised you would, and so you did.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t stop replaying that moment in your mind, every detail a puzzle you couldn’t solve. had he been involved in something criminal? was he tangled in debts or worse? the thought that he might be ensnared in something far beyond your understanding consumed you. the sight of him, standing there, so broken and afraid, haunted you. you didn’t want to believe he was in danger, but deep down, you couldn’t dismiss the fear.

˚ ༘♡ then, this morning, a text came through on your phone. it was brief, offering no answers, only an instruction, “come to my house.” no explanation, no reassurance, merely a summoning. the clock had barely struck six, but you didn’t hesitate. sleep clung to you as you threw on the white, wool coat he had gifted you months ago for your three-month anniversary.

˚ ༘♡ the streets were quiet, the morning air biting at your skin as you made your way to his home. every breath a battle against the anxiety clawing at your chest. when you reached his door, it swung open almost immediately.

˚ ༘♡ before you could say a word, he pulled you inside, his movements quick, the door closing behind you with a soft click. the air inside was warm, contrasting the chill outside, but it did little to ease the tension in your body.

˚ ༘♡ “you’re here,” he murmured, his voice low, and then his lips kissed your cheek, cool and brief, a gesture that was both familiar and foreign. the touch left your skin tingling, not with comfort but with unease. his eyes lingered on you, their usual sharpness dulled by something you couldn’t place, something sinister.

˚ ༘♡ you stepped back from him, your voice trembling but firm. “you have to tell me everything right now,” you demanded, though the weight of your exhaustion seeped into every word. the fear you’d carried for weeks had worn you down, leaving sorrow in its wake. “i can’t keep living like this, with all the secrecy and half-truths. it’s killing me.”

˚ ༘♡ as you glanced around, you noticed his home looked different, emptier than you remembered. furniture was missing, and stacks of boxes lined the walls, their presence unnerving. your eyes narrowed as you turned back to him. “are you moving? why didn’t you tell me anything?” your voice cracked with disbelief. then, anger surged, and you shoved his chest, your frustration spilling over. “this has to stop! you can’t keep throwing money and gifts at me, thinking it’ll distract me from everything you’re hiding!”

˚ ༘♡ his posture stiffened, his muscles taut under the pressure of your words. his jaw clenched tightly, and for a moment, he looked away, as though searching for the right response. when he spoke, his voice was strained, his frustration cutting through. “if you would only give me a chance!” he snapped, the sharpness of his tone filling the room. his chest heaved and fell rapidly as he struggled to compose himself.

˚ ༘♡ letting out a slow, deep breath, he rubbed his temple, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled off his glasses. without them, his eyes looked more vulnerable, the walls he so carefully built around himself momentarily exposed. “why can’t you trust me?” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with a mixture of anger and hurt. “why is it so hard for you to believe in me?”

˚ ༘♡ the scars on his face had faded slightly but still marred his handsome, angular features. your eyes lingered on them, the memories of his battered appearance resurfacing with a painful clarity. tears welled up, blurring your vision, and a tightness settled in your throat. “then tell me,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the truth he was about to share. “it was business dealings,” he began, his tone measured, “not illegal, but high-risk. it was meant to be a way to increase my earnings, and it worked. it was highly profitable and lucrative in the fiscal aspect. it was presented as a secure business opportunity.”

˚ ༘♡ you narrowed your gaze, suspicion flaring. “how much money are you talking about?”

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated for a moment before meeting your eyes. “forty-five billion six hundred million won,” he said, his expression unreadable.

˚ ༘♡ your breath hitched, your mind struggling to process the sheer enormity of the figure. “what?” you managed to choke out, your disbelief evident. “sang-woo, that kind of money doesn’t come without strings attached. it can’t be clean.”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw tightened, and he looked at you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. “do you trust me enough to believe it is?”

˚ ༘♡ you faltered, the strength of his question bearing down on you. he wasn’t explaining, he was testing your loyalty, your ability to have faith in him despite the glaring inconsistencies. deep down, doubt clawed at you, but your love for him, flawed and reckless as it was, overpowered your reservations. “i trust you,” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice. “i’m sorry for questioning you.”

˚ ༘♡ he nodded, the tension in his frame easing slightly, though his gaze remained guarded. “the investment fund ended a few weeks ago,” he continued, his tone darker now. “it got messy, very messy.” his bruised hand lifted, gesturing to the faint scars on his face. “this… was the price of my involvement.”

˚ ༘♡ the word lingered between you, heavy and suffocating. you stared at him, the weight of his choices crashing down on you like an unbearable tide. “why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “don’t you know I would have stood by you? no matter what?”

˚ ༘♡ his eyes darkened, and his voice rose intensely, startling you. “because I didn’t want to drag you into my problems!” he shouted, the force of his words filling the room and making you flinch. the reaction caught him off guard, his frustration fading as he noticed the fear on your pallid face. he let out a deep sigh, running his hand through his disheveled hair before pacing the length of the room. when he returned, his expression softened, and he cupped your face gently, his touch warm despite the tension. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to scare you. i’m sorry.”

˚ ༘♡ you had hoped that hearing the truth would make things easier, that it would bring the clarity you craved. but instead, it felt as though the distance between you had grown wider. “sang-woo,” you said softly, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions, “i don’t care what you’ve done or what happened. i only want to know that you’re safe, that we’ll be okay.” tears spilled freely down your pale cheeks, salty streaks marking the anguish you couldn’t hide.

˚ ༘♡ his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you in a way his words couldn’t. his hand moved slowly along your back, a comforting motion that was far different than the turmoil brewing within you. “everything will be fine,” he whispered, his tone firm yet almost pleading. “i promise, it’ll all be fine.”

˚ ༘♡ despite his reassurance, you couldn’t shake the pang of unease in your stomach. his words might have been meant to comfort, but they felt fragile, as though they could shatter under the strain of whatever truths still remained hidden.

˚ ༘♡ “i love you,” he murmured, his hand gently tilting your chin until your eyes met his. his gaze was steady, filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “i want to spend my life with you. to get married, have a family…”

˚ ༘♡ a shaky laugh escaped through your tears, a fragile moment of relief breaking through the tension. “alright,” you said softly, wiping at your damp cheeks. “let’s start with something simple. how about we go get something to eat?” your fingers brushed against his tired, weathered face, tracing the lines of exhaustion etched into his features. “you look like you haven’t had a decent meal in days,” you added with a small smile.

˚ ༘♡ sang woo’s lips curved upward, faint but genuine. “that sounds good,” he replied, his voice carrying a gentleness that was almost unfamiliar after everything.

a/n: i thought sang-woo wouldn’t tell his girlfriend about the squid game, with how concerned he is with maintaining a perfect reputation. let me know if you have any other requests! 🤍