#maybe i should go back to church after all

[magical-girl-coral]

turns out half-angels can still fly. sofia learned this a few seconds after her kid yelled "hey mom check this out from the top of a building.

i love how we're all finding new ways to give sofia a heart attack

After reading hundredth parenting books, going to a “new parents of otherworldly children” support group in the sixth burrow and covering the entire house in soft foam in case the wings grow out early, Sofia and Dale truly thought they were ready for anything their little angel throws at them.

Which is probably why someone up there thought it would be really fucking funny to prove them otherwise at every turn.

Don't get her wrong, Catherine was the best damn thing that has ever happened to Sofia and nothing is ever going to change that. But between casting the Light cantrip in the middle of a slumber party because her friend was afraid of the dark, healing random people in the subway because they looked sad and punching a bully so hard with radiant damage that he got a sunburn out of it, teaching Cat she needs to hide her angelic features has been a handful and a half.

The worst part was that Sofia and Dale were proud of all of those things, so telling Cat no becomes a million times harder than it needs to be. Every time they tell her no, she gives them her beautiful baby eyes and they buy her ice cream to make up for having to hide her powers. Looking back, maybe they should have been harsher after all.

Or else they wouldn't have lost her at Time Fucking Square.

"She is New York's brightest little girl. How can she disappear so easily?" Dale asked, white knuckling his phone, just a second away from dialing 911.

"Because her idiot mom is a monk who thinks teaching her kids stealth techniques is a good idea," Sofia answered miserably. She brought this on herself, didn't she?

Before Dale could say something sweet about how she's actually the best mom in the world and she shouldn't be so hard on herself like the angel that he is, a familiar shout echoed throughout the square from a nearby building.

"Hey, mom! Dad!" Cat screamed gleefully from the top of a commercial screen. "WATCH THIS!"

Cat jumped high into the sky and Sofia felt her heart fall into her stomach and shat out through her ass. But as Sofia and Dale ran to their daughter to catch her, she grew out the beautiful wings they had ever seen and flew straight into their arms. They were a truly beautiful thing; looking less like the white ones you see in movies and more like the multi-colored ones Sofia would admire in old church windows. A true spectacle befitting their little girl.

Cat shrieked as she landed in Dale's warm embrace, her wings flapping about and nearly knocking off his glasses. "Did you see me?! I was going whoosh and then BAM and then, and then-"

"Kind of maniac leaves out a zip line in the middle of time square?!" An old lady screamed out in horror, the umbral arcana already taking root. "This is why we need someone to make America great again! So that these slobs who are running things will get put in their place-"

"The fuck's wrong with you, you old bitch!" A different old lady yelled at her right.

Dale covered Cat's ears. "Let's get out of here before we all learn new words that could get us in trouble."

Sofia nodded hastily and picked up her shopping bags. Her mother can never find out about this.

[walkingnearfoxes]

The Right of the First Night (Homelander x Reader) - Part 2

I was talked into a sequel. 3.2k words. NSFW due to horny Homelander, questionable consent, and any HomelanderxReader fic should be NSFW tbh.

"Clean that shit up."

The Homelander leaves you where you were on the bed, closing the door behind himself and your husband. The last sight he had of you before leaving the bedroom, legs sprawled and tits rising with your labored breathing, deserved to be framed. That would be a fun thing to commission through Vought. But first things first.

He stands impatiently in the hallway as your husband scurries to the bathroom to wash his hands of his cum. When he's finished, the Homelander puts a hand on his shoulder to guide him down the hall and into the home office. He guides him with such a familiarity that an unknowing eye would think this was the Homelander's home, and not the other way around. 

The leader of the Seven stops your husband to stand in the middle of the office. He takes a moment to wander around the room as if he has all the time in the world. He notes the decorations with mild interest, chuckles at a framed award from Vought, and then looks back at your wide-eyed husband. He rolls his eyes. "Jesus, your heart rate’s like a hummingbird. I'm not gonna kill you. Don't think she would appreciate that very much."

Your husband swallows nervously and his hands twitch at his sides. "We won't tell anyone about this."

The Homelander snorts. "Of course you won't. That's not what we're here to talk about."

He steps closer and allows your husband to take a fearful step back. "Look, this is a unique situation. For you. You wouldn't believe the ladies dropping their panties for me after these galas. There was this one Fourth of July..." He drifts off momentarily, chuckles, then returns to the present. "Well. This is different. We're gonna be doing this again."

Your husband's face pales. "Again?"

“You a fucking parrot? Yes, again," The Homelander glances back at your bedroom and murmurs your name like a promise. "I don’t want her just once."

He looks back at your husband with a wide-mouthed grin. "It's your lucky day, pal."

He's entertained to see how quickly the fear in your husband's face shifts to anger. This man loves you so very much; it's cute. He even steps towards him, as if he had the slightest chance of causing a smidge of harm. "How is this lucky? My wife-"

"Your wife is on your bed drunk off my cock," The Homelander reminds him, his blue eyes glistening with a silent threat."I wouldn’t be surprised if you got sound complaints from her performance. You really think she's not gonna want to do this again?"

Your husband hesitates, and that's all the Homelander needs. He smirks and claps a hand on your husband's shoulder again. "Here’s the plan. I fuck your wife wherever I want, whenever I want." He pauses, shrugs his head back and forth and then continues. "Tell you what, I'll even have your salary raised for the trouble. You won't have to worry about expenses another day in your little lives. Deal?"

Your husband didn't make it this far in his career by being stupid. He knows there's no "deal" here. What Homelander wants, Homelander gets - and he wants you. Your husband will never say it aloud, but he knew this was coming. He knew it when the Homelander came to his office and commented on your picture on his desktop. He knew it when he saw the Homelander with you at the gala. Calling it a "deal" is a game that the supe immensely enjoys.

Your husband tells himself that he shakes the supe’s hand to keep you both safe. His agreement has nothing to do with the view he had of the Homelander fucking you on his bed.

~-~

You aren't mad at your husband. He didn't have a choice. That’s the phrase you both use when discussing this "arrangement." Neither of you had a choice, so you both quickly agreed to the Homelander's demands.

Those demands prove to be quite frequent. You never make it a week without the Homelander commanding for you. Sometimes, he'll call your husband when he's in a more patient mood. He’ll often just appear in your house to sate his appetites. The kitchen counter, the dining room table, the shower, your husband's desk - the Homelander is quickly using every home surface to make you scream for him.

He never forgets your husband. You figured out very quickly that this is part of the fun for him. The Homelander loves telling you to look at your husband while he's deep inside of you - and God help you if locking eyes with the love of your life across the room while the Homelander makes you come doesn't thrill you.

One morning, you're settling down for cereal when your phone buzzes. You glance down, raising a brow when your husband's number pops up. He had only left for work about 20 minutes ago. You read the text.

"His penthouse. 30 minutes."

You blink in surprise, your hand hovering over the phone before you send your reply.

"Isn't he in California?"

By this point, you were a connoisseur of Homelander news, and you could have sworn you saw him at a press conference in Los Angeles. Your husband connects that information with his following text.

"It didn't go well. Can you make it?"

Was the Homelander really able to fly so quickly that he's already back in New York? You had many logistical questions about his powers. You tried asking him about them once after three rounds in your bedroom. He started to answer you at the same time he curled three naked fingers inside of you. It wasn’t much of a conversation.

Back in the present, you let out a dry laugh at the phrase "can you make it.” Neither you or your husband had ever tried to deny the Homelander - mainly because you weren't sure you even could. Still, you kept up the pretense that you had agency as a couple or wouldn't come running when he called. You finish your breakfast, you feed the cat, you throw on a pair of jeans - the Homelander had commented more than once on how much he loved your ass in a pair of jeans - and you called a cab to Vought Tower.

You meet your husband outside of the Homelander's penthouse door. His smile is so gentle it almost hurts. He takes your hand and kisses your cheek. "You look beautiful."

You give him a gentle kiss in reply. "You get any work done today?"

"With the 20 minutes I had? No," He murmurs as he softly pulls you towards the door. "This...this is a bit more important."

He's raising his hand to knock, but the Homelander opens the door first. As always, he's in full uniform. You've only ever seen his hands or his cock out of costume. His hair is slightly disheveled, and when you glance inside, you see his balcony window is open. He must have flown in mere seconds ago.

"Finally," He mutters, stepping inside to allow you both in. "I'm gonna burn California to the fucking ground, I swear to God."

You glance at your husband, but step inside. It's not your first time inside of the penthouse. At first, it was bizarre to be fucked while surrounded by American memorabilia. You had trouble coming the first time, but the Homelander simply ate you out until that was no longer a problem. With your legs over his shoulders and your back against the floor-to-ceiling windows, you came next to a portrait of Theodore Roosevelt.

This time, the Homelander storms over to one of his couches. He has your husband's favorite coffee in a mug on the table. Nothing for you, but you have a feeling you won't be sitting for long. Still, as the Homelander sits with his legs spread and his arms along the back of the couch, you and your husband feel the need to sit on the sofa across from him. He seemed to favor a conversation before the fun began - as if he liked to imagine that all of this happened organically and not under a veiled threat.

"What happened?" Your husband asks as casually as he can. "I saw the Deep's ratings tank-"

"Don't even say that fucker's name," The Homelander growls and throws his head back. A few weeks ago, you would have been petrified at how bluntly he talks to your husband. Now, you've grown to realize that he enjoys talking to your husband on some level. He treats him almost like a colleague - a colleague who's wife he gets to fuck whenever he wants.

"You know why we were in California, right?" Homelander asks your husband.

Your husband frowns, maybe in concern or maybe in thought. "Promoting environmental conservation?"

"Save the god damn turtles," Homelander confirms with a dismissive scoff. "Vought needs the best superheroes in the world to stop people throwing their condoms in the fucking ocean? Give me a break."

He reaches down for his belt and undoes it while he continues to talk. "I'm trying to wrap up this waste of a PR stunt when the Deep starts going on and on about dolphins. Dolphins. God, I should've fried him on the spot. We all know he just wants to fuck them in the blowhole. Fucking idiot."

The Homelander's cock is fully out and in his hand now. He strokes it leisurely, one arm still lazily thrown along the back of the couch. He rolls his eyes before locking his gaze back on your husband. "Give it to me straight. How are his numbers?"

Your husband doesn't dare look down at the Homelander’s dick and God bless him, tries to keep his voice as steady as possible. "He...his percentages are up by about five percent in California but are starting to fall in the Midwest."

"Good," Homelander then looks at you for the first time since you arrived. "Get over here, sweetheart. I need that mouth."

You stand up slowly, but immediately. You kneel between his spread legs, your hands instinctively moving to rest on his upper thighs. You don't notice his slight grin at the casual contact. His fingers thread through your hair and he pushes you forward. He doesn't rush; his strength is a guide you can not ignore - even if you wanted to. You open your mouth and his cock settles against your tongue. He lets out a low growl of relief as you suck down. Without further prompting, you bob along with him at the slower pace you know he enjoys. He prefers his blowjobs to be slow and savory, or an absolute ravaging of your mouth that leaves your voice weak. Today, you judged his needs correctly, as his fingers sit curled in your hair. He lets you set the pace while he continues to chat with your husband.

"How are my numbers?" He asks. "I saw a dip southeast."

"That's taken care of," Your husband replies quickly. His voice dropping lower is the only indicator that he's watching his wife blow his boss. "It was a glitch."

Homelander's glove in your hair tightens, though he continues to let you choose the pace. "A glitch?"

Your husband speaks slower now as he chooses his words more carefully. "We have some new employees that coded the numbers incorrectly."

"What dumbass-Jesus Christ," He curses as you purposefully bring his cock as deep into your mouth as you can go. His irritation immediately fades to a grin, and he looks down at you. "You're gonna choke on me if you're not careful, honey."

You open your eyes to look up at him, and you're rewarded with his lips gently parting at the sight. He loves your eyes.

"How did you two meet?" The Homelander asks. You assume he's addressing your husband with your mouth so busy.

You can't see your husband, but you can hear his voice becoming strained. "A dating app."

"No shit," Homelander laughs as his hand begins to guide your movements. "Were you just looking for a good fuck?"

It takes a moment for your husband to respond. "It started casual, but-"

"But you couldn't stay away, huh?" Homelander chuckles darkly as he continues to watch you bob along his cock. "I don't blame you, pal. A lady that can suck dick like this is hard to keep away."

Without warning, he thrusts hard into your throat. You gag, instinctively trying to pull away, but his grip on the back of your head holds firm. You look up at him with panicked eyes as you choke, but he just gives you a gently shush. "Through the nose, baby," He purrs gently. "C'mon, we've been working on this."

You still fight for a moment on instinct, but you may as well not have moved at all with his grip on you. With little other choice, you still and breathe in through your nose. You see his grin through your eyelashes. "Atta girl."

He abruptly pulls you off of him and watches fondly as you gasp for air, your hands still clenched onto his thighs. When your breathing begins to even out, he tugs sharply at your hair. "Strip. Now."

He must've liked the clothes you picked; usually, he would have just torn them off. You strip yourself bare, tossing your clothing behind you. You use the opportunity to glance at your husband. Even from across the room, you see the tent in his trousers, but he isn't touching himself. Sometimes, and increasingly more often, he just likes to watch.

The Homelander's hand on your hip guides your attention back to him, and he gently pulls you to stand between his legs. Without warning, he uses his free hand to cup your cunt. The heel of his palm presses to your clit as two gloved fingers slip inside of you. You gasp loudly, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders.

"Fuuuuck," Homelander growls as he fingers you. He slides them out of you slowly but thrusts them inside, hitting that delectable spot inside of you that makes your legs quiver. "You've been soaked since you got here. You've been waiting for this, huh? Has our little cuck kept you waiting for this?"

His fingers speed up. His hold on your hip is the only thing keeping you upright. You open your mouth to reply, but cut yourself off with a moan. "Y-yes, he has..."

It's true. As your sessions with Homelander have increased, sex with your husband has started to decrease. Again, that unspoken language seems to exist between the two of you. Each of you ache for these moments with the most dangerous man in the world, and the waiting makes it more delicious.

The Homelander smirks and angles his thumb to press directly to your clit. "Do you like that? The waiting?"

You nod eagerly. "God, yes."

He abruptly removes his hand and chuckles at your whine of disapproval. He pats his thigh. "No more waiting, pumpkin. Come sit on Daddy's cock."

You don't hesitate. You shift your balance forward to straddle him and slowly sink yourself onto him. His smile widens to show teeth as you cry out in pleasure; you don't wait for his word before you start riding him slowly as you adjust to his size.

"That's it, take what you need..." He purrs and leans forward to brush his lips along your neck. He finds your most sensitive spot with ease and bites down, his sharp teeth digging in enough to make you wheeze. He soothes the bite with his tongue, humming quietly against your skin before coming off with a pop. "There you go, a pretty little hickey to remind you who you belong to."

He moves both his hands to your hips, but does nothing to help you. As you ride him, he looks over your shoulder at your husband. "Who's the asshole that fucked up the numbers?"

Damn it. He hadn't forgotten.

When your husband hesitates, Homelander lands a smack on your ass hard enough to bruise. You gasp loudly, unconsciously clenching down on him. He grunts and tightens his grip on your hips as he keeps on talking to your husband. "Whoever the fuck they are, you're firing them. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Your husband says immediately.

Homelander thrusts up into you. "You’re both too damn noble, you know that? Protecting noname fucktards?" He wraps a hand in your hair and tugs you down to level your face with his. "They wouldn't do that for you. The only one who can protect either of you is me."

You reply by kissing him hungrily. It's a mess of a kiss with the taste of him still on your lips, and you feel him stiffen in surprise. But then, he kisses you back with an intensity that takes your breath away. He flips you like you weigh nothing, your back landing on the couch. He's over you an instant with one hand groping your breast and the other curling around your throat.

"You're mine," He growls, low and heated, as he thrusts his cock back into you. He sets a relentless pace that has you keening and arching into him; it's an inhuman assault to that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

"Go ahead and come, baby," He purrs against your lips. "You're allowed."

You whimper, and with a few more thrusts, you climax. Your legs quiver around his hips, and it's enough for Homelander to finish along with you. He murmurs your name like a prayer against your lips, his hand lightly squeezing your throat as he works you both through the climax.

"God, I needed that," He mutters. He sits up slowly and looks down at you, his expression almost fond. "You alright?"

You shakily nod as you rest your feet on the couch. "I can't feel my legs."

Homelander chuckles and slowly pulls out of you, both of you letting out a quiet grunt at the release. "Go shower," He says, gesturing lazily down the hall with a wave of his hand. "We're not done yet."

You nod and slowly stand up. He lands another hard smack against your ass that nearly has you stumbling forward. You don't dare turn around when he laughs and instead limp your way to his luxurious shower.

Homelander keeps his eyes on you until you disappear into the bathroom. "She's on birth control, right?"

Your husband, fully hard, nods his head. "Y-yes."

Homelander's face is unreadable. The twitch of his smile could easily mean he's relieved or disappointed. "Well, wouldn't be the first time that meant fuck all...does she like it up the ass?"

Your husband sputters. "S-she-"

"How are you still getting so nervous around me, buddy?" Homelander laughs as he stands up and tucks himself back in his pants. "Haven't I earned a little trust here? I'll never do something she doesn't like."

He folds his hands behind his back and tilts his head. "Now, you go fire that little cocksucker in analytics. Think I'll go check on the Mrs."

[zonotrichia-albicollis]

Giant personal vent time

This guy stole somewhere between 3 to 6 MILLION dollars from my grandmother by conning my great aunt into signing over her estate and medical & financial power of attorney to him literally on her death bed

I and my aunt have been working basically a whole second job the last 3 months trying to get together a legal case to go after this guy. And now my grandma wants to drop it. And no one else has standing so what the fuck can we do.

This man has absolutely done this to other ppl before, there is no doubt in my mind. I’ve seen his property records for just what’s publicly available in my county and it’s sketchy as hell. I am never going to get over this but there’s nothing I can do.

Gonna put like a million more thoughts in the tags because I’m losing my fucking mind.

[quickfixinator]

just read the 2022-present daredevil runs and oh boy do I think that guy has some religious issues. oh boy he is quite a guy ever. I may have a new fixation up my arm just hold on with me for a bit here. the urge to morph my art style is hitting with the power of ten thousand suns. I read all of these to correctly and accurately attempt a compare/contrast of daredevil and other mythologies for a class (I have to make a power point on this eventually) and so far I've read comics for several hours. all in all a very well rounded day of research for this assignment. I am on track. surely.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Tattoo artist!rafe x angel!reader who lets rafe do her secret tats, the ones that her parents have no clue about.

warnings: secret tattoos, suggestive so MDNI, he does end up touching and looking at your boobs LMFAO, nd this is for my girls with spaced out titties (me) ✊🏽

♫ dirty little secret, the all-american rejects

“Shit, is that who I think it is?” His voice causes you to look up, smiling at him with a little wave, standing up from the leather couch you were sat on, pocketing your phone and walking towards him.

“My favorite client.” He complimented, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you with a grin on his face.

“Aww… you’re too sweet.”

“How are you? It’s been a little. Last I saw you was church.” He said with a chuckle, you shrugging.

“Same old. How about you?”

“It’s been… going. You know, can’t complain. But I was really glad when I saw you dm me.” He spoke, motioning for you to follow him back when he began to walk. He led you into a room, shutting the door behind him. You sat down, nerves shooting as he turned back to you.

“So, I got the reference all drawn out.” He spoke while grabbing the stencil, showing it to you. “What do you think?”

“It’s amazing! As always.”

He smiled, flattered. He began putting his gloves on, your heart thumping against your chest as you sat down. You were nervous for two reasons, one being that tattoos always made you nervous, rightfully so. Reason two, well, that was because Rafe, one of your best friends who you had a fat crush on, was about to see you completely topless. It’s not like he hasn’t before, last appointment being a pair of little angel wings on your back, leaving you in your bra.

But now, he was literally going to see you without a bra. Maybe you should have picked another artist.

But it was too late to turn back now, you realized after he turned back, cleaning supplies for your skin in hand, along with the stencil.

“Uhm- can you take off your shirt and bra f’me?” He nodded at you, your cheeks warming up at the words. “Here, I’ll-“ he murmured, turning around to give you some sort of privacy, his back facing you. You tugged off both garments of clothing, and swallowed the lump that formed in your throat when he turned to look back at you. You sat back down on the chair.

“You all good?” He asked you, trying his best to look at your face rather than your tits as he walked closer to the chair. He grabbed the cleaning supplies, cleaning near and on the area where you wanted it before drying your skin off.

“Mhm.” You nodded, watching as his eyes traveled down your body, a spark in his eyes, he moved his hands slowly, beginning to line the little bow stencil up. His hands grazed the skin of your breasts, causing your breath to hitch. You held them in your hands, shielding them from his eyes.

“Okay… you said right here, correct?” He spoke, glancing into your eyes as he placed the stencil where the valley of where your boobs were, trying his best to remain professional despite everything. God, he hoped you couldn’t see the way his cock started to stir in his pants.

You nodded at him, him poking his tongue out of his mouth as he put it against your skin, smoothing it against your body before peeling it back, the ink now on your skin.

He sighed out in relief, it was perfectly placed and he hadn’t given away that he was rock hard.

“You want a water?” He asked you, you nodding at him. “Alright. I’ll be back.” He spoke, you finally taking a breath when he walked out of the room.

Not only was it an almost seemingly very long appointment, he made it worse every time you felt his hands brush up on your body.

You tried your best to have casual conversation, but god, was he making it hard.

“Hey, did you ever tell your parents about this?” He asked you randomly, you looking at him with a furrowed eyebrow. “Just out of curiosity. I know how they are.”

“Definitely not. They would kill me. They already think that anyone else with tattoos is ‘sent by the devil.’”

He chuckled, “heard that one before.”

You found yourself staring at his pillowy lips when he spoke, or his hands when he traced over the stencil carefully.

And once it was done, he gave you a fucking discount.

“Wait, whys it cheaper?” You asked him, looking at him with confusion on your face.

“I told you, you’re my favorite client. Plus, I can’t say I disliked the view I got during it.” He was getting bolder, a smirk making its way onto his face.

Cheeky motherfucker.

You tilted your head to the side with a little pout on your lips. “Are you sure? I feel bad.”

“I’m sure, princess.” He chuckled. “Just come back, yeah? Needa see you more.”

“Well, actually… if you want, I’m having this party next weekend… you know,” you shrugged, casually leaning over the counter. “My parents are out of town for a while.” You told him, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he raised his eyebrows at the invitation.

“Yeah?” He hummed out.

“Mhm.” You nodded, “you should come!”

“Oh, I definitely will.”

You smiled at him, leaning further over the counter to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you so much, Rafey!” You told him when you turned around to leave, waving bye to him.

“Anytime, angel!”

[jaylalolz]

❛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ❜ p2 . . . charlie mayhew

INNOCENT!reader x PRIEST!charlie 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

PART 1

SUMMARY, after ignoring charlie for a week after the incident, he finally gets her close in the bathroom.

A/N, sorry i took way too long to make a p2. if you want a p3, leave some recommendations of what i should do for that part in my inbox bc i have no idea how to keep it going 😂 anyways, have fun reading, angels. 🪽🪽

WARNINGS, smuttyyyyy

Charlie had noticed the change immediately after their last conversation—the one where Maddy had admitted, with a tremble in her voice, that she had thought about him in ways she knew weren’t right. He had been shocked, then flattered, and finally, filled with guilt after everything. But what troubled him the most was her absence.

For a whole week, Maddy hadn’t spoken to him. She didn’t show up at mass, didn’t linger after church like she usually did. Every time he tried to reach out, she brushed him off with curt messages or avoided him entirely. She wasn’t just distant—she was actively ignoring him.

At first, Charlie tried to give her space, assuming that she needed time to process what had happened between them. But as the days passed, his concern grew. The gnawing guilt inside him—the feeling that maybe he had crossed a line, that maybe he had hurt her more than he realized—began to fester.

It wasn’t until late one evening, after most of the congregation had already left, that Charlie spotted her. Maddy, rushing down the hallway, her face flushed, disappeared into the restroom. The church was quiet, the echoes of footsteps fading, and Charlie hesitated for a moment before following her.

He knocked softly on the bathroom door. “Maddy?”

There was no response, but he heard a faint sniffle, the kind that comes after holding back tears for too long. Charlie’s heart clenched. He hesitated, not wanting to invade her space, but the sound of her pain pushed him forward.

“Maddy, please talk to me,” he said gently. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, but I can’t help you if you shut me out.”

There was a long pause, and then the door cracked open. Maddy stood there, her eyes red and puffy, but there was something hardened in her expression. She looked exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally.

“Why do you care so much, Charlie?” she asked, her voice thick with frustration and hurt. “I’m trying to keep my distance, like I’m supposed to. Isn’t that what you want?”

Charlie frowned, stepping closer. “What I want is to understand why you’ve been avoiding me. After everything we talked about, I thought we could work through this together, but you’ve been shutting me out completely.”

Maddy let out a bitter laugh, wiping at her eyes. “Work through this? Charlie, you don’t get it. I’m embarrassed. I told you something I never should have said, something unholy, we did something for which I will never be forgiven. And every time I look at you, I see the judgment in your eyes.”

Charlie’s breath caught in his throat, realizing the depth of her shame. “Maddy, no,” he said, stepping toward her, his voice softening. “There’s no judgment. I promise you that.”

“Then why does it feel like there’s a wall between us now?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Why did it feel like I crossed a line that I can’t uncross?”

Charlie closed his eyes, fighting the turmoil in his chest. He had wrestled with his own guilt all week, and now hearing hers, it was clear they were both lost in their own pain. He opened his eyes and met hers, his gaze steady.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said softly. “What you told me… it was honest. I do not regret what we did together, i am not ashamed of it.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face for any hint of dishonesty. When she didn’t find it, she exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.

“So, why does it matter so much, Charlie? Why did we both make it feel like the end of the world?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Charlie ran a hand through his hair, taking a breath. “Because it’s hard, Maddy. It’s hard to admit that something’s there, something we both feel but can’t have. It’s hard because I want to help you through this, but I also… I’m fighting the same thoughts, the same distractions.” His confession hung in the air between them, heavy and real.

Maddy’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly. “You mean…?”

Charlie nodded, looking down. “I’m not immune to this. But I’m trying to stay strong for both of us. And ignoring me won’t make it go away. We have to figure out how to deal with this together.”

Maddy wiped at her eyes again, this time with less urgency, as if the weight of their shared secret had lightened slightly. “I don’t know how to make it stop,” she admitted, her voice small.

“Neither do I,” Charlie said quietly. “But I can help you, Angel.”

He stepped closer to her, trapping her exit from the restroom. His fingers interlocks with her hair as he pulls a strand behind her ear and grabbed her face and pulled her closer. “Tell me you don’t regret it, please” he says eagerly as he places his forehead on hers.

“Just Let me worship you”

Her head spins from the thousands of negative possibilities but her body just wants to surrender to him.

Without kissing her, he trailed his lips up her curve and exhaled till the heat tingled sensuously across her delicate skin. She closed her eyes, sensing his hands running up her sides over her white button-up blouse. He clasped his hands over the cloth, tracing a line up her hips and down the sides of her chest before finishing at the collar of the weightless material.

He made two hard fists out of the blouse collar and tore it open causing her to gasp in shock as the shirt split open to reveal her white lacy bra.

He turned to face her and grabbed her hips once again, the moment the door was locked. Before her thoughts could register, his lips dropped hungrily to her neck and her back collided with the wall. He brushed his teeth on her flesh right away, pressing his body against her while groaning.

Her hands instinctively gripped his hips, tossing her head to one side. They kissed for a long time, his sensual lips breathing heavily into her neck in between, making her eyes drift close. He thrust forward, bringing his hips to meet hers, offering whatever kind of pleasure he could. Her hands clenched around his hips over his pants, and she let out a sigh of pleasure.His hands trailed down her nude thighs, extending to her behind to seize it above the dress. He pulls her hips against his harder.

"I can't wait to take this dress off you." He graveled.

His words cause her core to ache and she arched her back further off the wall to feel his body against her even more. He takes the motion and decides to just pick her up instead. His hand reaches behind her thighs, where he raises her and surrounds her weak legs around his hips. Her back against the wall as their hips collided, she took a deep breath at the abrupt change.Now at eye level with her, he planted a kiss on her jaw and positioned himself between her legs. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she held him in place. She felt weak as a result of his forceful hip thrust between her legs.

She dug her hands into his hair and let out a cry through a pant. When she pulled it, he gave a grunt. He clamped down harder on her neck, and in response, she let out an uncontrollable whine.

He tightly clamped his teeth into a single area, creating such strong suction that she was certain it would leave a mark. She almost lost consciousness when she separated her lips in response to her aggressive action, arching her back. Feeling him rough on the pale skin, she reflexively jerked her hand to the back of his head. She got mild pain spikes with it, but other than that, it was enjoyable.

She pulled at the roots above his neck, and he whispered into her neck. She knew immediately that he enjoyed it when she yanked his hair. His moan provided the necessary stimulation between her legs. He drags out every motion so that she begs him to keep going.

With her bra and panties on, she arched her back, feeling the tight fit of his jeans pressing on her inner part. she could feel how hard he was becoming quickly, he was absolutely bottled up in those tight jeans. Suddenly, he sets her down on her two feet and goes on his knees. He lanced down at her stomach, licking his lower lip with his tongue before lowering his head to give her abdomen a moist kiss. Her whole body trembled at the light touch.

He reached her panties and raised his head, gazing up into her eyes all the way up her body. Grabbing the edges of her lace panties, he sits up between her legs and pulls it up off her hips and down her thighs right away. She tensed slightly as he took off the final piece of material covering her body. She raised her legs into the air and he pulled the thin material away from her ankles.

He tossed the last piece of clothing to the floor, leaving her completely vulnerable. “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl and stay quiet. we don’t want anyone to hear you”

Just by feeling his tongue running up her center, her stomach lurched and her entire body flexed. He forced his mouth against her tightly and rolled his tongue straight to the cluster of nerves before she could even begin to grasp the strange sensation of his sharp tongue sliding up her slit. "Charlie-" her back curved off the wall before she could even complete her statement.

Without holding back, he went straight into her clit with a wonderful rhythmic roll of his tongue. Her eyes narrowed as she closed them.

Her hips twitched with the intensity of this wild new feeling right away. "Charlie, oh my god," she said, rolling her eyes inside her head. He maintained a death grip on her thighs, keeping them forced open to give him complete access to enjoy her in any way he pleased. She was unable to regulate her sensitivity, and it would make her body twitch.

His wet tongue rolled in the perfect place at different rhythms and at a steady pace, making her experience things She have never felt in her entire life. He just started, and she was unable to catch her breath.Her hands would be death grasping his thick hair right now if she could control them.

He placed her legs over his shoulders, reaching lower and squeezing a firm grasp around her outer thighs and hip bones. With a deep inhale through his nose, he caressed her with his tongue, sending a surge of ecstasy up her neck and into her veins. With a moan, she chokes and throws back her head, putting her legs across his long back.

She wasn't prepared for the kind of pleasure he gave her when he slid his lengthy tongue inside of her and ran it down. He was an expert at what he was doing and was doing it very well. Then the knot in her stomach turned to give her trembling thighs. Before returning to her clit, which she could now feel pulsating, he slid his tongue in and out of her a few times. The pressure burning inside of her intensified as soon as he made touch with it once more.

She flinches and draws in a short breath as he flicks the tip of his tongue up and down on the bundle of nerves. "I need it so bad.. charlie..." She could not be silent in the room; she was a mess of heavy pants. She was unable to stop herself from breathing heavily and was always accompanied by whimpers and whines that were concealed in the back of her throat.

He looks down between them, his ring and middle fingers digging deep into her. He instantly coiled and shoved them at the same moment, making her gasp. She was taken aback by the furious action. He was panting as well, so she arched her back and let out a whimper into the thick air. The two fingers he didn't have rings on, his fingers rocked into her mercilessly.

She let out a cry, tightly clenching her eyelids and contorting her hips. He coiled up and compressed his fingers, striking a sensitive area within her which she had no idea contained so many nerve endings."You're so fucking tight-" In his deep voice, he whispered.

Her legs trembled as she yelled out, “please." "Does that feel good?" He rasps into the burning air while simultaneously caressing her clit with his fingers. Shutting her eyes tightly, she gave a nod. Her stomach felt like it was about to burst; there were no words to express the feelings she was experiencing.

"Do you feel that knot in your stomach, Angel?" He whispered, reading her thoughts.

She groaned and nodded once more, her chest heaving in a need for breath. "Use your words." More forcefully, he remarks, It was so difficult to focus on anything other than the euphoric rush coursing through her blood. “Y-yes." was her stutter.

"I'm adding a third." Before striking a third finger into her, he muttered. She let out a gasp as he pushed past the line, his third finger descending in unison with the other two. She let out a cry, her back automatically arching off the wall.

"Oh my god!" The pressure between her hips immediately increased as the third finger was thrust in, causing her to cry. her body came out in another sweat, her hips suddenly having a mind of their own when they bucked.

He glanced up at her face, saw how shaken she was getting, her legs trembling with her inability to remain silent. He pulled his hand away from her clit and instead brought it up to cover her lips because she was extremely loud. When the build started to get more tense, he began to shove his three fingers deep into her.

"Everyone is right next door." He smirks.

"You can yell into my hand."

With her eyes squeezed shut, she yelled into his big palm that was placed across her mouth. Her back continued to arch off the wall as the condition grew progressively deeper. She felt as though she were on a cloud and was at a loss for words regarding what was occurring to her body.

"Cum for me baby-" He encouraged, drawing his eyes into hers. He knew she was close.

She whimpered into his fingers, her body's gears shifting like a moving train. Her thighs trembled as though she was freezing, her stomach was drawn in, and her chest pumped fiercely. She kept screaming into his palm at the crushing strain that was killing her, and his fingers kept jamming into the same area.

Her entire body was tight; she was too weak to continue in this state for very long. She let out his muffled name in a scream and then abruptly stopped moving. Everything—shaking, arching, breathing—stopped abruptly.

She undid herself on his fingers. She moans at the feeling of emptiness as he pulls away. He puts a kiss on her forehead and adds, "I knew you would be such a good girl for me." She was still trembling from what had happened, so he gently placed her clothing and underwear on her.

She slid to the floor, tears spilling down her cheeks. The shame she felt was suffocating, wrapping itself around her until she could barely breathe.

“Maddy,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice broken. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know why i’m crying”

Charlie was kneeling beside her before she could finish, his hands gentle as he reached for her. “Maddy, stop,” he murmured. “You don’t have to apologize”

She shook her head, tears still spilling down her cheeks. “It feels wrong, Charlie. All of this. I feel guilty for even wanting this.”

Charlie sighed, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. “I know. I feel it too. But guilt isn’t going to help either of us right now. We need to be honest with ourselves about what’s happening, and we need to figure out how to move forward.”

Charlie’s thumb gently wiped away one of her tears, his touch comforting but careful.

Maddy closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, even though part of her knew they shouldn’t be this close. But in this moment, she needed the comfort, the reassurance that she wasn’t alone in this guilt. That they would find a way through it, together.

[explicit-tae]

Repent (4)

There's only one night left of the retreat and Jungkook is way too far into his head for his own good.

Word Count: 6.847

Warning: smut, skinny dipping, dirty talking, kissing, unprotected sex, nipple play/sucking, shower scenes, fingering, oral sex, degradation, bible verses?? lmao, creampie,

Part One | Two | Three

Jungkook finds that he enjoys eating you out.

At first, after the night you and he shared, he was a bit nervous to bring up the request again. He didn’t want you to think that all he ever wanted to do with you was sexual activities. But he’d be a liar if he said that he didn’t enjoy suckling on your clit. He’s gathered that in such a short amount of time, he’s sinned far too many times to count, he didn’t want to add liar onto his list.

There was something about the way Jungkook grew more and more insatiable when it comes to you. Each night you’d come into his cabin and join him beneath his sheets. You’d always say how cute he was and Jungkook would always intend on proving you wrong by eating you out.

The once shy and reserved Jungkook had turned into the being you knew he could be, the confidence he had buried within coming out little by little.

Especially in the way his hands would force your thighs apart as his tongue ravished your clit greedily. He would bob his head back and forth, fully enthralled with the act of eating you out that he never came up for air. 

Maybe it was your moans that gave Jungkook his will. He finds you entirely hot when you moan out his name, your hand tangled in his hair. You enjoyed what he was doing. Your thighs would shake and your face would be drawn with pleasure - it fueled his passion entirely.

However, all good things had to come to an end. It was the last day of the retreat and everyone had since packed to leave the following day.

“So let me get this straight,” Taehyung begins. “you haven’t fucked her yet?” Jungkook groans. He should know better by now then to call his friends for help as they almost never were any.

“You’ve eaten her out at least 50 times already.” Hoseok snorts. “Isn’t the retreat over tomorrow?”

“There isn’t any rush. If her grandmother goes to the same church, you’re bound to see her again.” Namjoon encourages. Jungkook can practically hear the smile in his tone.

“I say you fuck her raw dog and-”

Jungkook hangs up the phone entirely. His issue isn’t with having sex with you because, in all honesty, he’s positive that you’d say yes to him if he brought it up. 

Jungkook had a problem now. In a short amount of time, you’ve come and captivated him entirely in ways that he’s embarrassed. Not because he’s embarrassed of you, but of himself and how fast it took for him to acknowledge that he liked you.

In ways that’s more than just hooking up.

Jungkook isn’t sure if after tonight, would you and him be…friends? Would you go back to your regular life and forget about him entirely? Would you ever visit the church in hopes of seeing him?

Jungkook’s mind races as he makes his way out of his cabin. He has his camera in his hands as it was his job to take pictures for the Church, specifically on the last day of the retreat.

The children are restless, all playing outside. Their youth and obliviousness is nice and he wishes he could be a kid again where everything was easier. There wasn’t sin constantly clouding his mind day by day and a girl who he couldn’t get out of his thoughts.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Jungkook had just entered the large dining hall when he heard a soft voice. It’s Meana, who he only saw in passing the last few days.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks, but he’s positive that he knows. He was so caught up in his head that he possibly looked ill, walking around moping at the thought of you leaving the retreat and never speaking to him again.

It was pathetic, truly.

“You look,” Meana tilts her head. “a wreck.” she concludes. She’s holding a bottle of water in her palms. “Is it about Y/N?”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush at the sound of your name and Meana could only smile.

“You like her.” Meana states in a teasing voice. “I think she likes you, too.”

Jungkook’s ears perk a bit. “H-Huh?” he stutters, doe-like eyes widening a bit and dare Meana say she can see them sparkle under the dining halls white lights. “What do you mean? DId she say that to you?”

Meana shakes her head and Jungkook’s shoulders falter.

“But, it’s obvious, right?” Meana shrugs her shoulders. “You and her have been inseparable the last few days.” she states matter-of-factly.

That wasn’t a lie. While you could ignore the stares, Jungkook couldn’t. But he didn’t let them bother him. Being seen with you wasn’t something he was ashamed of. You were seen as the rebelling type who wore too tight clothing just because you wanted to spite whoever was watching. People held their tongue because of their love and respect for your grandmother, not for you.

Meana, however, finds it endearing how close you and Jungkook are. While she hadn’t spoken to Jungkook often since the kiss in his bedroom, she and you had. You had come to apologize to her if you made her uncomfortable and Meana had told you that everything was alright. Sure, her heart did pound around you and her cheeks would warm, but it wasn’t anything that was your fault.

“I’ll even say that you two look like a couple.” Meana teases further, knowing that Jungkook’s face would turn a dark shade of red, and when it does she couldn’t help her laughter. 

“I…I don’t even know if she wants to see me after the retreat.” Jungkook admits sullenly. “She doesn’t come to church-”

“Why don’t you just ask for her number?”

Jungkook is silent. He hadn’t thought about that. The more he thinks about it, maybe he has been quite dramatic.

“But what if-”

“You’re trapping yourself behind bars that are wide enough for you to walk through.” Meana deadpans.

Jungkook could laugh. Meana, after this retreat, has changed a bit, as well. She wasn’t as shy as she once was and he ponders if maybe you being around her has rubbed off like it did him.

“She hasn’t said anything to me about after the retreat.”

Meana shrugs her shoulders. She opens her water bottle. “Maybe she’s waiting for you to say something.” she says prior to taking a swig of it. “Do you ever think she’s tired of making the first move on you?”

Jungkook blinks. 

“No, you haven’t.” Meana giggles. “Because you’re caging yourself behind those too wide bars and allowing your own insecurities-”

“When did you become a therapist?” Jungkook crosses his arms. He can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips. “I don’t remember you being this logical before.”

Jungkook knows that Meana is right, however. You had shown him time and time again that you were interested in him. Maybe not for something further than a friendship, but you were definitely interested in something.

Jungkook finds you sitting outside with a group of kids. They’re all talking at once, far too excited about something and you’re too nice to tell them to calm down and talk one at a time. Your eyes dance around the children as each of them talk and Jungkook finds it endearing.

Jungkook brings his camera up to take a picture of the sight. You only notice when the flash goes off, your attention turning to Jungkook. He lowers his camera and offers you a small smile that you return - one that causes his heart to jolt again.

Don’t be stupid, Jungkook thinks to himself. He thinks of what his friends told him. What Meana told him, but even now all he can focus on is how idiotic it is liking someone you met recently. There was no way in H E double hockey sticks that you liked him in the same way. 

Maybe Jungkook would have more faith in himself if he would just think Hell instead of H E double hockey sticks.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Jungkook blinks a few times to look down at a small child with folded arms. He raises his brows as the boy glares at him.

“Uh, what?” Jungkook nervously laughs, glancing up at you. You’re now standing.

“I already said I was going to marry her.” the little boy points his finger at Jungkook. “So you can’t have her!”

Jungkook blinks. “You’re like 6.”

“I’m 7 and a half!” 

“You’re too young for marriage.” Jungkook wants to slap himself for entertaining a child anyways. 

“And you’re getting too old!”

“I’m not even 30 yet!” Jungkook exclaims.

Jungkook is dragged out of his glaring match with the child when he hears you laugh. A hand is placed onto his bicep and his attention is immediately on you. His shoulders relax a bit. 

“You can’t fight the children, Kookie.” you joke.

“I-I’m not!” Jungkook’s cheeks return to their warm reddened color. 

After offering the young boy a pat on the head, you venture off with Jungkook. Since it was the last day, people decided on cleaning up, packing and eventually just hanging out until the following day. 

“Did you enjoy your time on the retreat?” Jungkook asks after a long stretch of silence. You and him had gone for a walk not too far from the cabins. 

“Of course I did.” you answer. “Dare I even say I had fun.”

Jungkook allows himself  to smile. “I’m glad,” he murmurs.

Your eyes wander to him for a moment, lingering on his face. You believe he has more to say, though you don’t press him on the matter.

“What do you do, uh, outside of all of this?” Jungkook chuckles nervously. He’s sure that after tomorrow, he won’t be seeing you at Church.

You pretend to think long and hard about his question before answering. “I suppose what normal people our age do?” you shrug your shoulders. “I work often, but I have hobbies. What do you do?”

You stop walking to face Jungkook. He does the same.

“I have hobbies, too.” Jungkook murmurs, cheeks dusting pink. He isn’t sure what to say. He’s an open book. You know he attends the church just as often as your grandmother and he’s highly reserved with non-reserved friends encouraging him to, in words his parents would tell him, sin. “I, uh, enjoy drawing as you know. Painting. I go wherever my friends drag me.”

You hum,  lips twitching upwards. “Where do they drag you?”

Jungkook blinks. Were you actually interested in what he was saying?

“Uh, depends. Museums for some, arcades for others.” Jungkook swallows. “I’ve been dragged to clubs a few times, too.”

“Church boy Kookie in a club?” you pretend to be shocked, placing a hand over your mouth. You laugh mere seconds afterwards. “That’s a sight I’d have to see.”

Jungkook and you were far too consumed with one another that neither of you noticed how side by side you two were. You returned back to the cabins for dinner, him listening to you talk to Meana about a TV show he hadn’t heard before, but seems highly entertaining in “girl world” he likes to put it.

The young boy returned, glaring eyes at Jungkook before staring at you with such heart eyes that Jungkook would be threatened if the child wasn’t exactly that, a child. You were convinced by him and more children to do s’mores - an activity that you dragged Jungkook to, much to the little boy's dismay.

Even as the moon shone high above the dark sky, clear of any stars or clouds, Jungkook and you find yourselves by the lake. It’s quiet out as everyone had retreated to bed while you and him went for yet another walk. 

You find that Jungkook is talented in a lot of things. You already know how amazing he was at drawing. His photography skills, as well. He showed you the pictures on his camera that he’s taken - of the children all playing, Church goers. He even showed you some of his friends that appear high-quality and magazines like that you had to compliment him on how amazing it was.

“You’re not very spontaneous, are you?” you asked. You and Jungkook sit on the dock, your feet swinging back and forth at the edge right above the lake. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “No.” he admits. “Everything we’ve done,” he begins, that cute blush on his cheeks as he recalls the moments he and you shared. “is all a first to me.”

Jungkook and you had two different ideas of spontaneity, he’s sure. You offering him a blow job out in the open had to be by far his favorite - he couldn’t remember the last time adrenaline flowed through him like that.

You lick your lips. “The fun shouldn’t stop now, right?”

“What do you mean?”

You don’t answer and instead proceed to lift your shirt over your head. You throw it aside. “You ever gone skinny dipping?”

Widening his eyes, Jungkook shakes his head. You lift yourself up to take off your pants next, your panties going right along with it.

“Y-You’re serious?” Jungkook murmurs, looking around as if anyone is watching. You’re not too far from the cabins, but no one ever comes down to the lake at night.

You’re naked and Jungkook, no matter how many times he was blessed by the heavens above to witness you in such a state, he finds his eyes wandering to your nude figure. 

“You know I am, Kookie.” you offer him a wink. “It’s our last night here. We mind as well make the most of it.”

You don’t wait for Jungkook to respond. Instead, you jump into the lake. Water splashes his shirt a bit as he watches you emerge from the water.

Jungkook’s heart pumps as he looks at your smiling face.

Fuck it, Jungkook thinks. He can hear his friends in his mind clear as ever - to not pussy out (in their crude tone).

Jungkook does the same as you, though folding his clothes and placing them neatly beside your discarded ones before diving in right beside you. You laugh, clapping your hands when he comes up from beneath the water.

“10 points to you, church boy Kookie!”

The water is freezing, but Jungkook doesn’t want to look like a coward, so he holds the shivering to a minimum. That, and he does find this whole thing hot - the act of him and you being totally naked while everyone else is oblivious. Was this something spontaneous you did on the regular? 

“You’re cold, aren’t you?” you giggle. His teeth slightly chattered. “I’m cold, too.”

“Just something to get used to.” Jungkook chuckles. He swims a bit closer to you. The edge of the doc wasn’t too far deep into the water and the ground was touchable if he truly wanted to stand. 

You make the first move, but you know fully that Jungkook doesn’t mind. The little that you’ve known him, you know he was now going through an internal battle of if he should touch you or not.

You wrap your legs around Jungkook’s waist, your hands sitting on his broad shoulders. Jungkook’s hands place themselves onto your hips, feeling even more warmer now that you were so close to him. 

“You must really find working out fun.” you state, remembering what he said a few days prior. “You ever thought about getting any tattoos?”

Jungkook nods his head. “Yeah…but my mother would have a heart attack.” he chuckles. 

You hum. “I think you’d look hot.” you murmur, tightening your legs around him. “I was thinking about getting one.”

Jungkook swallows. Your chest sits directly against his and your hands now lightly rub the skin of his shoulders.

“W-What tattoo?” Damn him for stuttering like a school boy. To think that he’s eaten you out more times than he can count, but you still make him so nervous. 

“Hm…dunno.” you shrug your shoulders. “I want a tramp stamp. That’d be hot, right?”

It would be, Jungkook thinks. He only manages to nod his head because he’s positive that if he continued to think about it, he’d moan this time instead of stutter and he was done with embarrassing himself.

“You’re so…” you blink droplets of water from your eyelashes before smirking. “…cute.” you murmur. “You still get so shy around me.”

“I’m not.” Jungkook lies. It was pointless because you knew he was. “I’m just…not used to being around someone like you.”

“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Jungkook inhales a breath. “I didn’t know you wanted me to.” 

“Is that so?” you lean in a bit, your cold nose touching his own. “I told you I wanted to fuck you on our first day here.” you murmur.

Jungkook’s ears are red. You had a point, he thinks, but still. You could always change your mind at nay given moment - even if you haven’t already.

Instead of responding, Jungkook places his lips onto yours. The familiar bubble in his stomach, followed by the quickness of his heart beat, Jungkook slightly moans into your lips. His eyes flutter close, his hands bringing you closer against him. 

Kissing you got easier over time, Jungkook thinks, but he cannot help how his body feels afterwards. Even in the cold water, Jungkook can feel his cock begin to throb. 

Your teeth sinks gently onto his bottom lip, tugging it playfully. 

“I intend on having you fuck me still.” 

Jungkook’s eyes flutter open. His hold on you tightens a bit at your words - words that cause his heart to continue to jolt, as well as his cock to throb with need. Just the thought of actually being inside of you.

Without warning, your legs hold onto his tighter, and your arms wrap around his neck. With all your force, you bring your body backwards and underneath the water, bringing Jungkook along with you.

A rush of sensation flows through Jungkook as he and you are enveloped underneath the water. Your legs loosen and so do your arms. You’re pulling away from him, he thinks. He emerges from under the water to hear your bubbly laughter. He wipes his eyes, blinking them a few times to look at you.

“Was that a trick?” 

Jungkook’s tone is playful, you note. You don’t have enough time to process before he’a coming for you. He dips underneath the water. It’s silent for a moment, your head dashing around in an attempt to find him underwater.

A loud screech comes from your lips when hands wrap around your frame and throws you underneath the cold water along with him. You don’t process the rushing of water before you’re being brought up above it once more.

Jungkook is behind you, your back against his chest. Your breathing is heavy when he wraps you in a hug. 

“Church boy Kookie,” you begin, breathing with each passing word. “you’re coming out of your shell nicely.”

Jungkook doesn’t mean for you to feel his cock against your ass, it just happens. Maybe by the way you squirm in his embrace to further tease him. 

“I still want to fuck you.”

Jungkook’s lips are at your ear, warm breath tickling it. You’re already cold, but the way he speaks to you causes the exposed skin to prickle with excited goosebumps. 

“You have such a dirty mouth.”

Jungkook swallows. Dirty talk, he thinks - his friends' words flowing through his mind. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment right now, one that he admits is entirely hot. 

Jungkook places his lips at the nape of your neck, pressing several kisses. His hands roam upwards until they’re at your breast. He grips them in his hands needily, inhaling sharply against your neck.

“You love my dirty mouth.” Jungkook murmurs against your neck, his kisses now pecking upwards until he’s at your ear. “It’s what brings you back to me time and time again.”

Jungkook’s own confidence in his voice surprised even himself. 

“You’re right.” you murmur, eyes fluttering close.

It was a blur getting out of the water and dressing for the sake of returning back to the cabins. You and him had to be quiet as you entered the showers. You assure to lock the doors behind you as Jungkook makes his way to the nearest shower he finds. 

You and him are naked once more, underneath hot steamy water. Jungkook’s arms are around you again, bringing you closer as you and his lips lock together.

Doing all of this has his heart pounding even faster with adrenaline. 

“You okay?” you say against his lips, hands lightly tapping his shoulders as you make them down his wet arms. “I don’t want to overwhelm you with beginner level spontaneity.” 

Jungkook chuckles. His hands are on the low of your back. “I’m fine.” he murmurs. “Just…wanna touch you.”

You hum. “I’m not holding you back.”

Jungkook, no matter how many times he’s managed to touch you, always feels as if it’s the first time. His hands grip your breast once more, inhaling a sharp breath when his palms feel the way your nipples are so hardened. 

“You’re very beautiful, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs, voice nearly inaudible due to the loud shower hitting against your bodies and the tiled floors. “Sometimes I think this is all a dream and I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone…”

Jungkook’s thumbs press against your perky nipples, rubbing slightly. His cock is throbbing against your thigh, wishing that he'll hurry up and do what you want him to do.

You find Jungkook’s words endearingly poetic - it’s as though he believes that after tonight, you’d disappear into thin air; like a figment of his imagination. 

You didn’t laugh because you truly did find his words endearing. Your heart pumps once those words hit your ears, your already warm body heating up even more. His thumbs twirl your nipples, wet eyelashes blinking up to look at you.

“You’re acting like I’m going to disappear after all of this is over.” you lick your lip as Jungkook comes closer, pressing a kiss to your neck as his hands knead your breast.

“Are you?”

Jungkook told himself that he wouldn’t ask you this question. He doesn’t want to appear as if he’s too interested in you - even though he absolutely is. He’s positive that you know he is. But he understands that you and him are entirely different and for you, this is possibly just an act of spontaneity. 

Jungkook isn’t expecting you to respond so before you could - and possibly break his heart when you told him that you indeed weren’t going to stick around - his tongue strokes along your neck. His right hand roams down from your breast and past your stomach and right between your legs.

Your lips part to release a light gasp when his fingers are on your clit. He rubs them gently, his tongue continuing to swirl on your neck. You were beginning to like the confident side of Jungkook when he didn’t allow his mind to race a mile a minute.

Jungkook’s lips dipped further as his fingers continued to rub along your clit. He still cannot fathom how he managed to be entangled with someone like you - how you even managed to want to be around him. You didn’t mind that he was a bit inexperienced and shy and you were always willing to go easy on him.

If you called the way you came onto him time and time again “easy” - but Jungkook never complained or told you to stop.

Jungkook captures your nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls on the perky bud, droplets of shower water falling  into his face. His finger inches closer to your hole, wanting to sink them into you. The last few days, he has managed to gain a bit of an idea of what it was like to pleasure you - and each moment he could, he would. If that meant eating you out until you were begging him to stop, then so be it. Fingering you until your legs were shaking and you were making a mess all over his bedsheets, it was completely alright.

Once it was all done, your favorite thing to (think, not say) was how cute Jungkook was at seemingly learning new things that excite him.

“You’re getting better at this.” you lean your head back a bit when Jungkook’s fingers begin to enter you. Your thighs part wider, fully willing to take him.

Jungkook pops your nipple from his mouth, boba-like eyes looking up at you. He doesn’t say anything, but your compliment gets to his head. He begins to pump his fingers and keeps a close eye on you for your reaction. He finds that he enjoys watching you - was that creepy? He enjoys witnessing your face be drawn with pleasure by something he was doing. Your words of encouragement were always welcomed, as well, and it actually made him feel good.

“Are you?” Jungkook repeats his question from earlier, picking up the speed of his thrusting fingers. He comes closer to your face now, shielding the water from yours as it now slides down the back of his head. “Are you going to disappear when it’s all over?”

You squeeze around his fingers, damp lashes blinking away. There isn’t a way Jungkook was going to allow you to not answer his question - or at least think about it. His free hand places on the low of your back, sliding you closer to him. 

“You can always-” you begin but halt when you feel his lips on yours. It’s full of hot need that has you shuddering in them. You wanted to mount him right now more than ever. “-can…always call me.” you finish when his lips lift for air.

Jungkook’s heart jolts again - that meant that you were interested in being friends, right? That after tonight, you and he would keep in touch and he had a chance with you - whatever chance you were willing to give him.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. In the words of his dear friend Hoseok told to him before, he had to lock in. He couldn’t scare you away like he had his ex-girlfriend. He would take you in whatever way you wanted him to if it meant that you’d come around again.

The shower didn’t last long. You couldn’t wait any longer and neither could he. After bathing the quickest either of you ever had - mainly because the once hot water that was burning your skin was now running cool - you and he had to sneak back to his room. You were thankful that it was nearly secluded from the rest.

You nustle underneath the covers along with Jungkook, immediately wrapping yourself onto him. You didn’t want to wait any longer - a week was long enough in your eyes. You wouldn't say you were the one to constantly sleep around, but if you saw something - or someone - you wanted, you were determined to have it. 

“What’s your number?” Jungkook blurts out when you nestle on top of him. You only got dressed enough to walk from the showers to his bedroom and immediately stripped down upon entering. 

You snicker. “Can’t we exchange numbers tomorrow?” you say, running your hands up his stomach, his damp shirt nearly sticking to his skin. 

“What if you forget?” 

You pressed yourself further against him. His growing bulge was evident, but his face was sternly cute. 

“Fine,” you let out a short breath, a smile on your lips. “852-0085.” you speak.

Your roaming hands are able to lift the shirt from his shoulders and throw it aside. You then lean down to press your lips onto his collar bone.

“You’re s-still missing the first two numbers!” Jungkook protests, though his voice softens with how good your lips feel against his flushed skin. 

“That makes it fun.” you say as you peck his chest. Your eyes flicker up to Jungkook to find that he’s already looking down at you. 

Jungkook’s chest rumbles a bit, but he doesn’t fight. He can see the glint of mischief in your eyes - this was a game to you. A game he was willing to play; unbeknownst to you he was always the competitive type.

You’re going lower and lower, sliding off of his lap to nestle between his legs. Your fingers hook on his underwear, the hard bulge making it no secret how content he was.

“I feel bad that you’ve eaten me out so many times the last few days.” you say, eyes glancing down to his cock. It’s as if in slow motion does it spring from his underwear, veiny and pink with oozing pre-cum. You lick your lips before glancing up at Jungkook. “I’ve been neglecting you.”

Jungkook bites his lip, eyes unblinking. You wrap a hand around his cock and squeeze it. “N-No, it’s fine!” he assures quickly, swallowing a lump in his throat. The cum leaking out his tip was embarrassing - you hadn’t even done anything yet.  “I like…I like eating you out.” he admits, his cheeks heating up as blood rushes to his cheeks. “I enjoy making you cum, too.”

You want to say it. The urge to call him cute is at the tip of his tongue, but you understand Jungkook doesn’t like to be called that during situations like these. Instead, you poke your tongue out and lick along his slit.

If it’s one thing you did enjoy was watching Jungkook when he was on the receiving end of pleasure. He was so handsome for his own good and you should thank his parents for raising him to be so humble and kind.

And completely deserving of your interest.

Your tongue continues to roll on his tip, the salty taste of cum hits your taste buds. Your eyes continue to watch his face - the way his eyes flutter close and rosy lips part. His chest rises and falls and in the corner of your eye you see his hands grip the sheets. 

A low groan comes from Jungkook’s lips when you bring his cock deeper into your warm mouth. He nearly forgets how good you were at this. The first time it happened, it was hard to forget about it - so much so that he would have to force himself to think of something else so he wouldn’t get an erection while he was out in his room.

Jungkook proceeds to squeeze his eyes shut as your sucking increased. His knuckles had to be a pale white now with how hard he was gripping the cotton sheets. His breathing is ragged and he’s doing everything to not whimper aloud and appear like a loser - but it was hard. 

You blink a few times to rid yourself of the glossiness. Your head rises and falls, each time his tip hitting the back of your throat. Your hands rest on his tone thighs, tapping on them ever so softly just to continue to play with him.

“You’re so g-good at this.” Jungkook’s cheeks are a bright red at how weak his voice sounds. He’s added points to his mental score with how well he was doing at not sounding or appearing like a complete loser the last few days, and now - after whimpering - his points were erased.

Your throat vibrates as to answer him. There’s a pounding between your legs. Jungkook is so vulnerable right now, you think, caught in his own bliss. The amount of times you’d thought of this very cock splitting you open in a way you know he can if he’d just let loose.

Maybe you just had to bring it out of him.

You pop Jungkook’s cock from your mouth. Messily, saliva coats his thigh and a bit of your chest, but sex isn’t always clean.

Before Jungkook has time to react, you’re in his lap, again.

“Y/N-”

Jungkook doesn’t manage to speak before you’re sinking down on him. His eyes widen at the feel of your warm cunt gripping around his cock. So wet and tight - Jungkook ponders if he’s somehow managed to die and has gone to heaven.

Jungkook snaps out of his hallucination to place his hands onto your hips. “I-I-” he begins, cheeks becoming warm as he glances down to where you and he are connected fully. “-are we not supposed to wear a condom?” he questions low. 

Jungkook doesn’t even have a condom, he then remembers. This was a church retreat, after all. The more he remembered where he was at and what he was doing, the more he thought about how long he was going to have to pray for forgiveness.

“Don’t have any.” you murmur - uncaring - soft hands on his shoulders. You push him back a bit. “I’m on birth control.”

Jungkook’s chest continues to rise and fall rapidly as goosebumps form onto his skin.

“Is that okay?” your hips rise just to fall once more, knowing full and well that Jungkook wasn’t going to push you away.

Jungkook gasps. His fingernails dig into your skin. “Yes,” he says hastily. “it’s ok-kay.”

“Good.”

The smile you give Jungkook is so wholesome.

That’s until you begin to drop the sweet girl act and use Jungkook’s cock - the same cock you’ve wanted inside you since the very first day - to your advantage.

You buckle your hips, pouncing against him with little care. His cock is so deep, springing in and out of you heavenly. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, has a hard time handling this. Your pussy is too tight for him to not moan beneath you. It’s too wet for him to not want to feel more and more of it as you bounce against him. But he understands that even though his room is further than everyone else's, that didn’t mean it was sound proof.

“Slow,” Jungkook begins, gripping your waist. He makes the mistake of opening his eyes to witness your bouncing breast right in his face. “-down,” Jungkook manages to let out. 

“Your cock feels so good, Kookie.” you moan, leaning closer to him so that you and him are face to face and now chest to chest. 

Jungkook shudders. His right hand slides up your back, wanting to hold you closer to him. “I don’t want us to get caught.” he moans. He wanted  to savor this moment - and everything else after this. Getting caught wasn’t an option for him. “Your pussy feels good, too.”

Church boy Kookie and his dirty words had gotten better over the last few days - you had to give yourself a pat on the back for making him comfortable enough. His hushed tone added to the affect, your walls tightening around his cock more.

“Remember what you said the other day?” you ask, grinding your hips as your lips peck the corner of his mouth. “That you thought about the ways you wanted to fuck me?”

Jungkook nods his head. His hand has a mind of its own so while his right is on the low of your back, his left dips down to feel your ass in his palm.

“Tonight,” you begin, pecking his lips. “I’ll be mild. Next time I want you to fuck me in whatever way you want.”

You were going to be the death of him, Jungkook thinks. Something in his mind - so small and deep - tells him that this was wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this with you during a church retreat out of all places, but his desire for you outweighs whatever discernment he has.

“However I want?” Jungkook couldn’t help but ask. He’s prayed about it before, asking for forgiveness for thinking about you so disrespectfully as what he wanted to do to you was anything but holy.

You nod your head, picking up the pace. You lean away from him, both of your feet laying against his bed as you begin to pounce. Up and down, up and down - Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes away from your body. Your wet cunt dripping with arousal all over him to the way your breast bounces in similar rhythm.

“Whatever dirty fantasies you keep hidden in your mind,  I’d  let you do to me.” you look right into his eyes as you speak, casting a spell upon him that Jungkook is fixed on you and you alone.

“Fuck.” Jungkook lets out, his stomach tightening at just the thought of being able to do whatever he wants with you - unholy acts that he was told were bad for the majority of his life. Adrenaline flows through him and without thinking, his hips begin to buckle to meet you halfway. “You’re…you’re such…”

You moan when Jungkook begins to thrust along with you, his cock hitting you even deeper. You were unlocking something in him you knew he possessed.

“...such a whore I’ve been told about all my life.”

Did you have a degradation kink, you think? The way your pussy tightens around his cock at being called a whore by Jungkook - the once soft spoken man who would apologize for even looking at you the wrong way. Now, his eyes are dark and unapologetic, his hips buckling to bury his cock deeper into you.

“Flee from sexual immorality,” Jungkook recants the verse he’s been told time and time again for years. “Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the seuxally immoral person sins against his own body.”

Maybe you were a whore. Why did that make you even hornier?

“Ever since you come into my life, all I can think about is fucking you.” Jungkook admits, his eyes glaring at you - but not because he hates that you brought a side out of him that he has buried deep within. “All I ever want to do is bury my face between your legs and taste your sweet pussy against my tongue.”

You’re left speechless - since when could he speak this dirty? You hadn’t noticed that you stopped bouncing and allowed Jungkook to take control until the room grew louder with skin slapping.

“You don’t know how hard it is to keep these thoughts about you out of my mind. Praying them away doesn’t work.”

Jungkook feels a shiver down his spine as he continues to thrust, nails digging into your skin. 

“The best way to get rid of the thoughts is to speak of them aloud.” you murmur, managing to hold his gaze. His cock is drilling into you in a pace that only someone like him - who finds the gym and exercising fun - could do.

“I don’t think you want to hear them.” Jungkook murmurs, his own eyes unblinking. He swallows as there’s now a churn in abdomen. “I still respect you, Y/N.”

It’s amazing how Jungkook can switch entirely, from being the church boy you know to the hot, degrading man who he traps away.

“Get up,” Jungkook rasps. “I don’t want to cum-”

“Just cum in me.” you state, tightening your thighs to keep him trapped between you. You proceed to wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close. “I want to feel it.”

Jungkook shudders once more. His eyes squeeze shut as his cock ruts in and out of you, hitting a sweet spot that causes you to moan with each thrust. He wasn’t going to last long and by the way you’re whimpering, neither were you.

With a few more desperate thrusts, warm cum fills you entirely. Jungkook’s thighs shake as he covers your wet walls with sticky cum, the feeling entirely euphoric that there’s no way that he hasn’t died and gone to heaven already.

You hum softly, the feeling of being full of him causes warmth to fill your body. You lay limp against him, your chest against his.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks a few moments later as his cock begins to soften. “I don’t think you’re a whore.”

You laugh when you hear the hesitance in his voice. You roll off of him and lay beside him. “I know you don’t.” you murmur. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook blinks a few times before nodding his head. 

“You sure?” you ask, turning to face him. “Doesn’t this, like, go against whatever you believe in?”

Jungkook closes his eyes. “Well,” he begins, a bit amused. “I’ve sinned since the first day I got here. I prayed after every time.”

You laugh aloud, wrapping an arm around him.

“I hope we weren’t too loud.” Jungkook does the same, holding you close. He isn’t sure he can handle the judgmental stares from everyone if they knew what was going on. “Are you going to give me the first two digits of your number now?”

You close your eyes and yawn. “Not a chance.” 

Jungkook cracks a smile, he isn’t upset. He enjoyed a good game - even if it meant calling dozens of phone numbers if it meant that he would eventually find yours.

@investedreader @luvbug089 @azaood @smoljimjim @hoseokteardrop @sappy033 @renassaincesblog @myjungkookthighs @sweetlifeofjoy @iheeafkp @emmie2308

[simplyholl]

Home For Christmas

Summary: When your mom puts pressure on you to bring a boyfriend home for Christmas, you turn to Bucky for help.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Southern F. Reader

Warnings: Reader is Southern. Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Fake dating. Maybe a little blasphemous? Fingering in a church. Getting fucked by a peppermint stick.

*A/N: I am Southern. I couldn’t get the idea of bringing Bucky home to the South for Christmas out of my head so this was born. Sorry if this is shit. I’m just getting back into writing again.

Mammaw = grandma

Pappaw = grandpa

^^ this is the peppermint sticks I’m talking about in the fic. I don’t know what they are really called.

See My Masterlist Here

The compound was bustling with Avengers and employees getting ready for the holidays. Everyone was going home or leaving with another member of the team. Everyone except for Bucky. He was quiet and kept to himself most of the time.

He is a grumpy asshole usually, so you just avoided him. You didn’t blame him for his behavior, you’d be the same if you were tortured and brainwashed by Hydra for decades. But the thought of him being alone in the huge, empty walls of the Avenger Compound pulled at your heartstrings. You couldn't leave without extending an invitation to him. There was an ulterior motive too. You were nice but he was a lot to deal with. He was sitting alone in the common room, reading a book when you approach him.

"Hey, do you have a minute?" You ask, looking a little weary as you walk towards him. He raises an eyebrow, locating his bookmark and placing it inside his book as he closes it. "So I know we aren’t exactly friends, but I couldn't leave without asking. Do you want to spend Christmas with me and my family?" Bucky's eyebrows furrow together as he looks at you. "You're serious?" He asks, resting his chin on his fist.

You nod your head, waiting for his answer. "Why would I want to do that?" It was a fair question; one you had even expected. "I just thought you might want to have some company, have a home cooked meal. Nobody should have to spend Christmas alone." He looks at you suspiciously, “What’s the catch?”

You bite your lip, damn he was good at reading you. “Okay, you got me. So my momma has been hounding me about finding a nice man and settling down. Which is crazy. I’m an Avenger and that’s not enough for her. But she is dead set on grand babies and planning a wedding. So I might have lied and told her I had a boyfriend to get her off my back. I also might have told her I’d be bringing him home with me. So, if you come with me maybe you could help me out and pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Bucky laughs, a low gutteral sound escaping him. “No way in hell, princess.” He smirks. “I’ll stay here, order takeout, and get a break from all of you idiots. Why would I want to go home with you and play the part of your doting boyfriend? We barely talk.” You sigh. He made a good point. And if the shoe was on the other foot, you wouldn’t want to help him either.

But you were desperate. You didn’t want to disappoint your mom. She was really excited that you had a serious boyfriend. So you sink to your knees in front of Bucky, putting on the biggest pouty face you could muster. You bat your eyelashes and try to work up a few tears, but they wouldn’t come. “Please Bucky, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”

You look into his blue eyes hoping this would work. There had to be something he wanted. Then you saw it, a little flicker of something in his eyes. “Anything?” He asks with a smirk. “Yes. Name it and it’s yours. I’ll do your laundry for a month. I’ll scrub your suit after missions. I’ll cook all your meals. Whatever you want.”

Bucky smiles wolfishly at you, his flesh hand coming up to your face. He cups your cheek, looking into your eyes before dropping his gaze down to your lips. His thumb rubs against your bottom lip as he holds his gaze on you. “So I go home with you, spend Christmas with your family and pretend I’m your boyfriend?”

“Yes, my very serious boyfriend who could pop the question at any time.” I add making sure he knew what I expected. “Fine, I’ll do it.” You look a little surprised but quickly hide it. You thought it would take more convincing. “But I want boyfriend privileges.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, a confused expression on your face. “It means if I’m going to pretend to be your boyfriend I get to enjoy everything a boyfriend would, including having sex with you.” He smirks. Your eyes go wide. “You want to have sex with me? You don’t even like me.”

“You’re right. But I want you. If you want me to play the part then that’s my condition.” You don’t have to think about it, not really. You have eyes. Bucky is a handsome man. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to sleep with him too. But you didn’t want him to know you were eager so you pretended like you were thinking about his offer. Instead you were thinking about his metal hand wrapped around your throat. “Deal.” You stick your hand out to him and he shakes it.

You were an idiot. That was the only explanation you had. You were five hours into a ten and a half hour car ride. The gps kept adding minutes to the trip and traffic was crazy. You should have booked a flight, but you wanted to drive. Now, you were dealing with an aggravated super soldier who was cussing the other drivers on the interstate. You didn’t dare complain when he went over the speed limit or when he gave the finger as he was passing another car. But you did sneak glances every few seconds at him.

He was so hot all riled up like this. The blue vein in his neck throbbing, the wild look in his eyes, the death grip he had on the steering wheel. You had to hold yourself back from offering to blow him right here in the car.

The trip down south was long and almost torturous. When Bucky wasn’t yelling at the other drivers, he was fighting with you. But you survived. When you see the big sign welcoming you to your home state, you couldn’t contain your excitement. You point out all your old hang outs, telling Bucky stories about your childhood as you drove through your town. Finally, he pulls into your driveway. Your Mom’s, Mammaw’s, and Aunt’s houses were all decorated for Christmas. You loved that they were all neighbors. Most of your family lives pretty close by.

You get out of the car, letting the cool air hit you. You take in your surroundings. The trees were bare from shedding their leaves but it was still beautiful here. Bucky gets out doing the same. You both carry your bags to your old childhood bedroom that your mom had set up to accommodate the two of you. You give Bucky a tour since nobody was home. He stops to look at the big Christmas tree with presents underneath. He looks at the ornaments, turning over one you had made in Sunday School when you were a little girl. He looks like he is about to make some smart ass remark when he freezes.

His eyes land on something and you follow his gaze to the stockings your mom hung up. They were all red velvet with your family’s names embroidered in gold cursive on them. They were all filled to the brim, some candy poking out of the top. Bucky touches one gently, a look of disbelief on his face. Then you see it too. Your mom had gotten him a stocking. It was hung right beside yours. And in the same gold letters as everyone else’s, ‘Bucky’ was on it and it was overflowing more than the others.

“I’ve never had a stocking like this.” He admits quietly. “We were poor and my ma just got us oranges and apples. She would bake a cake and we might get one gift . A toy gun for me, a doll for my sister. Nothing like this.” You grab his flesh hand, rubbing your thumb along the top of it. You’re interrupted when your mom comes in. Her eagle eyes on your hand in Bucky’s, a huge smile on her face.

You run to her, giving her a big hug. “Momma, this is my boyfriend, Bucky.” You gesture to him, and he walks over shaking her hand. “I’m James Barnes, ma’am. But you can call me Bucky.” He flashes her a huge smile and she blushes. You roll your eyes. He was really laying it on thick.

After you caught up with her and Bucky answered all of her questions, you all go over to your Mammaw’s house. She was watching Bonanza on tv. She loves those old western shows. She and Bucky talked for ages about them. Apparently, he was a fan too. You and your mom carried in wood for her stove while he kept her company. “We are gonna have to borrow the neighbor’s wood splitter again. We have almost used up all her chopped wood.” Your mom tells you.

“I can split it.” Bucky offers. You give him a surprised look. “You will?” He nods his head. “Just show me where everything is. I’ll take care of it.” You shrug and take him outside. Showing him where he can bust the wood. You give him a an axe and some old work gloves before heading inside to watch westerns.

After an hour, you go outside to check on him and bring him some water. When you go back in, you find your mom and Mammaw at the window giggling like school girls. “What?” You ask. Your mom motions you over and you look out the window just in time to see Bucky take his black henley off. His muscles are slick with sweat. He swings the axe down forcefully and the muscles in his back move sinfully. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head.

You hear your Mammaw gasp as he continues chopping the wood. Your mom pats you on the back, “You did great, honey.” You giggle, actually giggle. You can’t help it. He looks incredible and you’re glad he came up with the whole sex idea or else you would put your pride aside and beg him to fuck you. He busts the last piece, propping the axe up against the wood pile and heading toward the house. You’ve never seen your Mammaw run so fast to get back in her rocking chair.

You take Bucky to visit your Pappaw. He showed him his gun collection. Which you think was his way of threatening him. Your pappaw sends you out to get lunch for everyone, but keeps Bucky there with him. You’d love to be a fly on the wall. Pappaw is probably giving him the whole ‘what are your intentions with my granddaughter’ talk. When you left, he shook Bucky’s hand and told you he was a fine young man. So their talk must have went well.

The next night, you and Bucky were going with your mom to watch the church Christmas program. That was one thing about your mom, she raised you to be a Southern Baptist and you were expected to go to church if you were home. This time was no different. You put on a long sleeve dress, fix your hair, and put on a little mascara. Bucky is wearing dark jeans and a long sleeve button up. Your sister, her boyfriend, your Mammaw and your Pappaw were all at the church too. They sat on your mom’s usual pew, three up from the back on the left side.

There wasn’t any room for you and Bucky so you sat behind them. The church was unusually full, but they were expecting a lot of people to come. That’s what happens when there’s a Christmas program and a dinner afterward. People loved free food. All the little old ladies you went to church with your whole life came over to gawk at Bucky.

They were giving him peppermints and hard candies from the bottoms of their pocket books. They were hugging him, and feeling his muscles. They all told you how good you had done in getting a man like him. They told him how handsome he was. They pinched his cheeks. And one even pretended like she needed help walking back to her pew. But you had seen her just moments ago running over to scold a child who was trying to stick his finger in the cake she baked for after the program. Bucky took her arm and led her to the front of the church. Her grip on his muscled arm tight the whole time.

Finally the choir started singing and the program begins. You shivered, regretting your decision to not wear tights. The temperature in the church varies. It was either freezing or you were sweating. You grab a blanket off the back of your mom’s pew and laid it on your lap. You scoot closer to Bucky, hoping his body heat would help.

The children get up to start their part of the program. Bucky lifts the blanket and puts it over his left side, his metal hand underneath it. Your breath hitches when you feel the cold metal of his hand on your bare thigh. You look at him questioningly. He smiles and winks then turns his attention back to the children singing. His hand moves higher until it stops at the edge of your panties. Your eyes go wide and you put your hand over his, a silent plea to stop.

He reaches over with his flesh hand and moves your hand away. He moves his cool fingers under your panties, sliding them against your center. He gathers your slick, bringing it up to your clit and swirling his vibranium thumb. You grip his thigh and try to pay attention to the program. He slides two fingers inside you and you bite your lip to stifle the moan that escapes you. You’ve never been more thankful for the kids’ loud off key singing.

You look around to make sure no one is paying attention to you. Thankfully everyone is watching the program or taking pictures of the kids. You lay your head against his shoulder, making it look like you were cuddling your boyfriend enjoying the Christmas show. When you were really just trying to hide your face as it contorts in pleasure. Bucky’s fingers set a brutal pace as his cool thumb worked your clit. It was all too much. How he looked yesterday chopping the wood, how everyone loved him, the way he was taking you apart in the one place he absolutely shouldn’t. One more curl of his fingers and swipe to your clit and you were falling apart on Bucky’s fingers in church with your face buried in his shirt.

Finally your last day home arrived, Christmas Day. Your mom made a huge breakfast that your family came over to eat. Then you sat in front of the tree to open presents. You all started with your stockings. Truthfully, you were more excited to watch Bucky open his than to see what was in yours. He dumped it out. Candy, chocolates, candy canes, all kinds of treats spilled on the floor. Bucky’s whole face lit up in a smile. He had never looked more handsome.

He opened the gifts your mom got him, a couple shirts and a watch. He thanked her graciously. Then you hand him the gift you were eager to surprise him with. You ordered it online and had it shipped to your mom’s house and she wrapped it for you. He looks surprised as he opens it, a record player and some old records you had to pay an arm and a leg for. They were hard to find too. You asked Steve what music Bucky liked back in the day and you searched for days to find them on vinyl.

He pulls you in for a hug. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” He whispers in your ear. You hold him tighter. The rest of the day is spent watching Christmas movies and eating cookies. Your mom set up a hot chocolate bar on the table with marshmallows, whip cream, sprinkles and peppermint sticks. It was a cute idea she got from Pinterest.

That night, you hug your mom goodnight as she heads to bed. You and Bucky stay up a little longer. Bucky was acting a little weird. He went out to the shed where your mom stored her Christmas decorations and he was being secretive. When you asked about it, he told you it was a surprise. So you stopped asking questions and tried to finish watching The Year Without A Santa Claus. When it was over, you went to your childhood bedroom where Bucky had been for a while.

“Can I come in yet?” You ask as you stick your head in the doorway. When Bucky nods, you shut and lock the door behind you. “Strip.” He commands. You don’t hesitate. You would walk on hot coals barefoot if he asked you to. You place all your clothes in a pile on the floor and stand bare before him. “Get on the bed.” He gestures with his vibranium finger. You lay down and watch as he pulls something out from under the bed. Old Christmas lights that your mom didn’t use this year.

Bucky must have been in here untangling them. He holds your wrists above your head and wraps the lights around them. Then he brings it down your arms and to your chest. He binds it around your breasts and over your stomach. You try to move your wrists, but it’s too tight. Not enough to hurt but maybe a little uncomfortable.

He stands at the foot of the bed admiring you. “Perfect.” He grabs the mug of peppermint sticks your mom had set out off the dresser, twirling one between his fingers. He lays on the bed between your legs pressing a kiss to inside your thigh. You feel his scruffy cheeks against your thighs and you shiver. He leans his head down and licks up your center. Bucky’s flesh hand grabs your thigh, spreading your legs wider.

He looks up at you from between your thighs. His blue eyes never leaving yours as he puts the peppermint stick in his mouth. He twirls it between his lips, getting it wet. He removes it with a plop, and he brings it down, sliding it inside you with ease. His warm tongue flicks your clit, the peppermint making it tingle.

You moan as he swirls his skilled muscle around you. Bucky works the peppermint stick slowly moving it in and out. Each time he puts it back inside you, he angles it to reach that spot that makes you see stars and your toes curl. He rolls his tongue over you as he pumps the peppermint stick faster.

You arch your back and try to get closer to him. You want to reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair while he tastes you. But you can’t move your arms because of the Christmas lights he tied you with. Bucky removes the peppermint stick and brings it to his mouth, sucking your arousal off it. He moans, looking in your eyes as he slurps you off it.

He lowers his head again, his now icy mouth closing around your clit. He sucks you between his lips, his tongue flicking against it gently. You writhe underneath him as he holds your hips down with his metal arm. He slides the peppermint stick back inside you as his lips tug your clit. He moans against you and that’s your undoing. You cry out as your orgasm crashes through you, wrecking you. Bucky keeps up the good work until your shuddering subsides.

The next morning, you both tell your family goodbye. Bucky packs all your belongings into the car and you start the long journey back to the compound. This time instead of yelling at the other drivers, Bucky holds your hand the whole way. “I can’t wait to come back next year.” He tells you with a huge smile on his face.

Tags in the comments

[trueishcolours]

Cardinal Benitez moments I wish had made it into the film.

I was discussing Conclave with my mum and said that while it felt very fitting for an unknown actor to get his break with Cardinal Benitez, I thought the role could have been played with more nuance as he felt a bit one-note to me. Mum countered that she thought Carlos Diehz didn't have much to work with as the script 'just called for him to occasionally show up and look holy.' So I looked back through the book and found that Benitez does have a lot more varied moments which might have given Diehz more to get his teeth into if they'd made it into the film.

when he gets into a tiff with Bellini ON ARRIVAL at the Casa Santa Marta. Bellini says 'you probably shouldn't have come and now that you have come you probably can't go back' and Benitez is like 'well that's not up to you on either count, is it?'

then two minutes later Lomeli (book!Lawrence) is explaining the procedures of the Conclave and Benitez is like, 'aw heck, Bellini was right, I shouldn't have come.'

at dinner when Lomeli says, 'I must introduce you!' and Benitez is all 'nooooo I wanna just hide behind this pillar all evening because I'm shyyyyyyy'

(Lomeli trips over his own feet to reassure him both times it's really sweet. And I just think these moments of doubt help to highlight his courage. It's less impressive if he's calm and self-possessed the whole way through.)

In his conversation with Lomeli about whether or not he should vote for Tremblay, he almost accuses Lomeli of idolotry - worshipping the church rather than God! The Dean of the College! The largest cardinal!

And he says you're more likely to encounter the Holy Spirit in the victims of violence he's helped in his missions than in the Curia; he is NOT shy about throwing his experiences in people's faces and making them REAL uncomfortable if he thinks it will make his point.

(You can see the echoes of this conversation when Lawrence/Lomeli says to Bellini, 'I thought we were here to serve God, not the Curia - in the book, he's clearly taken Benitez' words on board)

After the bomb goes off and they're discussing what to do, Benitez gets up and says, 'excuse me, I guess this isn't proper procedure but I think what we should do is all agree to go back to the Sistine and elect Lomeli as pope' and it really makes you think, wow, this has NOT been the procedure but maybe it should be? If these people really were all united in desire to do what was best for the church and the world, wouldn't they just be able to sit down and openly discuss who they should all vote for instead of all this shadowy politicking? And Benitez cuts through that and it's actually this suggestion that triggers Tedesco's Islamophobic rant.

So yeah. More shyness and doubtfulness AND more fire from book!Benitez.

[issybee06]

May I request poly relationship with Mark x reader x rex? Maybe the reader is also a superhero just like them?

Both? Both!

Rex x reader x Mark

I’ve never written for poly so this is going to be an experiment for all of us!

If you want smut, please request smut! I'll be happy to do a pt 2 if you want smut

…………………………………………………………………………….

Im just telling you all, both of them DONT know how to share. Like, come on, only child Mark Grayson v. Rex who grew up in government care? When they both found out they both wanted you, they wanted to claw each other’s throats out with spoons.

In the very beginning, it was only built on opportunities to one-up the other. Who's gonna help you with training? Who's cooking dinner with you? Who's gonna patch you up? They were fighting over everything.

But for you…? They compromise.

They still are competing, of course, but they both understand that you are there for both of them.

“Hellooooo gorgeous.” Rex pops up behind you, giving you a wet audible kiss on the cheek. You groan before giggling, wiping it away, making Mark who was across the counter from you tighten his grip on the poor carton of milk until it almost popped.

He didn't get it, Rex was notoriously know for being a dick in relationships, why would you even play with the idea of being with Rex when Mark was sooooo much better.

He was just glad you haven't accepted Rexs flirting, playing it off as Rex being Rex. He was a better choice, he would treat you right, the way you should be. He just hadn't built up enough courage to actually ask you out yet.

Rex was draped over you, blabbing and curling your pretty hair around his finger. It was like Rex already owned you, like the cat and mouse game was already won.

Mark stood up angrily and left the room, making Rex smirk, and stomped down the hall.

He needed to hit something.

“You are really bad at hiding things superboy…”

Punch

“Like seriously man, whats with you and going after my prtners? First Eve now-”

Punch

Punch

Crack

“…(Y/n) not your partner.” Mark bit out, huffing as he analysis the crack in the wall where the punching bag hit it a little too hard.

“Not yet, I'm working on it. You can't rush art.”

Mark wanted to kill him.

“(y/n) not some…some…fucking-! UGH! You can't just treat people like shit dude!” Mark stalked over to him, getting in his smirking face-WHY THE FUCK WAS HE STILL SMIRKING?!”

“Ohhhh you like like them… that's cute Mark, super cute. It's like you slapped “Inexperienced Virgin!” on your forehead and started reciting love poems.”

Mark huffed in his face, red from anger and embarrassment, “the fuck does that mean?”

“It meansssss you're out of your league bro. this isn't elementary school, and crying and getting a hissy fit over this isn't gonna make (Y/n) want you. Its sad.”

Mark's eye twitched, and he swallowed down his anger. He knew he wasn't as experienced as Rex or you were, you being a 2 year college student already and Rex being…well, Rex. Mark had barely had a make-out session, if you could call it that.

He blushed, turning back to continue hitting the punching bag.

“(Y/n) deserves better then you.”

“Probably,” he smirked, “but I don't see them taken, so…”

He shrugged, walking away, “ill send you an invite to the wedding~”

Mark was going to kill him.

You were a nerd, of course you were, and Rex wanted to jump out a window when he saw you and Mark laughing and talking about science dog…? Séance…? Who the fuck know.

One hand on his knee as you lean over, pointing to a panel innocently, and Rex is ready to blow up the living room just to get you away from pretty boy Grayson. Like seriously, why would you like Mark who hasn't even seen a boob in real life since he was a baby?!

Rex huffs into his mug, pouting as your heavenly giggle sounds and echoes in his brain like a church chior, only for it to sound like nails on a chalkboard when Mark peaks over his shoulder and smugly looks at Rex.

The little shit.

He might just have to stage a disappearance, Nolan and Debbie would get over their son being gone eventually, he just needed Mark fucking away from you.

Like seriously, couldn’t Mark just be happy with Eve? She liked him, can’t he just fucking dip and screw her?! Why is he here, are Guardians HQ, HE DOESNT EVEN FUCKING LIVE HERE!

Rex might just break the handle of the mug off and thrust it into his eye socket if he hears Marks shitty flirting one more time.

“Okay, pretty boy, you earned a point.”

“Point? The fuck-”

Rex glared, watching him bench-press the weight of a ducking tank like it was as light as a pillow, “yeah, we're tied now.”

Mark grunts, and locks the machine to sit up, “I didn't know this was a competition.”

Rex crosses his arms, scoffing as Mark wipes his sweaty face with a towel, “of fucking course its a competition, Space ranger, we both want her-”

“Exactly.” Mark cuts him off, ears pink. He huffs, dark eyes turning to Rex. He sighed, running a hand through his inky strands before tugging, “its painfully obvious we both want her…”

“Yeah…and? Its not like we can shareeeohhhhh. Oh. Oh.” and Rex begins to connect the dots, of course pretty boy Grayson swung both ways…

He smirks, thinking before walking over and sitting on the bench next to him.

“I think we can come to a sort of an agreement, Grayson.”

“You guys…want to share me?”

They were in your room, both boys nodding and eyes staring at you as the pout.

“Hey, the other plan was to fight yo the death so-”

“No, no…no. No need…i guess we could try it out?”

Rex is the first one on you, grabbing your face and slamming his lips on your and making you squeek.

“Fuck…I've wanted to do that since we first met.”

Mark blushes, out if his element as he watches two of the hottest people he's ever met make out sloppily. He swallows, not knowing what to do, were to put his hands.

He's debating on just coming back later until you break the kiss with Rex and tug him down to slot his lips on yours.

He tenses, eyes wide, but than relaxes and moans softly into your lips as his hand rises to your cheek.

Rex grins, latching his mouth to your neck. You gasp, Mark whimpers and chases your lips before grabbing both sides of your face and forcing his tounge down your throat.

Hands reaches and pops the button of your jean before bullying his hand into your pants, Rexs hand, and your brain turns off.

You shuttered, head falling to Marks shoulder as Rex begins to work you, Mark mumbling sweet things in your ear as his hands move under your shirt.

Fuck what people say, Two is definitely better than one.

[violettwrites]

but daddy i love him! — tp!daryl

a/n: this is something a little different from my trailer park!duo i’ve been writing, but i listened to one taylor swift song and i couldn’t help myself

if you enjoyed my writing, don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment! i really appreciate the support 🫶🏻

summary: reader comes from a well off, extremely religious family. when she becomes close with the town’s local outcast, her father, the local preacher, has something to say about it.

pairing: tp!daryl x goodgirl!reader

warnings: none tbh !

word count: 2,778

resources: divider by @adornedwithlight

➸ masterlist

➸ ask box

ever since you were a little girl, your life had been laid out in front of you. you had a path to followed and you had never deviated from that path. you kept your faith close to your heart, god with you everywhere you went.

your father was the well known preacher in your small town, where everyone knew everyone.

and everyone knew you— the preacher’s daughter. the one expected to be perfect, sinless, and pure. people looked to you as a reflection of your father’s teachings, a symbol of his devotion. for years, you wore that role like a cloak, heavy with responsibility, but it fit you. at least it did, until you met daryl dixon.

daryl wasn’t like anyone you had ever known. rough around the edges, always lingering on the outskirts of town with his older brother, merle. both of them stuck in a trailer park on the other side of the county line. they were known for getting into trouble— as sinful as they came, as your father said, warning you to stay away from them. but there was something about daryl that drew you in. maybe it was the way he never tried to impress anyone, or how he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever saying a word.

you can remember the first time you noticed daryl dixon— leaned up against the outside of the gas station, his bike parked in front of him as he stood there, a cigarette between his lips. when you had caught his gaze, in that pretty little white sundress, looking like the epitome of an angel, his blue eyes locked onto you. you had left the church once the sunday service was over, in need of a sweet treat in the shape of a slushie. on your way out, with your blue raspberry slushie in hand as you passed him, you had locked eyes with him, those piercing blue ones boring into yours.

it was a few weeks later when you saw him again, this time behind the church. you had come out to get some fresh air after a long sunday service, your father still inside talking with some of the congregation. daryl was leaning against a tree, his eyes scanning the horizon like he was waiting for someone— or maybe something.

“shouldn’t be out ‘ere, should ya?” his voice was rough, like gravel under your feet, but there was a softness in it that surprised you.

you hesitated, unsure whether to run back inside or stand your ground. “maybe not,” you replied, your voice steady, even though your heart was pounding in your chest. “but i could say the same for you.”

he gave a half smile, barely there, before his gaze turned back to the woods. “ain’t exactly my place, is it?”

“no, but it’s not like anyone’s going to come looking for you here either,” you said, stepping closer. there was something exhilarating about talking to him, like you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something thrilling.

daryl didn’t say anything for a moment. he just stood there with his hands in his pockets. you could see the faint outline of a bruise under his eye, and it made you wonder what kind of life he lived. you had heard rumours about the dixon brothers, but you had just assumed that was all talk.

“yer the preacher’s kid, huh?” he asked after a long silence, eyes coming back to focus on you— and your heart pounded against your chest again at his piercing blue eyes locked in on your figure.

“don’t call me kid,” you scoffed for a moment, looking down at your white sandals, brows furrowed before looking up at him. you nodded eventually, chewing on your bottom lip. “and you’re one of the dixon brothers.”

daryl chuckled at your defensiveness of being called kid, but left it at that. he nodded his head at your observation. “reckon that’s what people call us,” he hummed, however it seemed there was a bit of defensiveness in his tone too.

“is that all you are?” you asked quietly, somewhat curious about the boy behind the rough exterior with the name he carried.

for the first time, daryl looked at you, really looked at you. his brow furrowed like he was trying to figure you out, figure out why the preacher’s daughter was out here talking to him like he wasn’t the town’s pariah. he didn’t have an answer; but you could see that same quiet rebellion mirrored in his eyes, like he was just as unsure about his place in the world as you were about yours.

from that moment on, your paths crossed more than you’d like to admit. you’d find him by the church sometimes, or he’d show up at the gas station, always at odd times like he was avoiding being seen. the two of you would talk, but never for long, however it was long enough for you to feel like there was something more to him than the town’s whispers could ever capture.

it wasn’t long before you started sneaking out, the weight of your father’s expectations growing heavier with each passing day. you’d meet daryl in secret, late at night, down by the creek just outside of town. the moon would be high in the sky, casting a silver light over the water, and the two of you would just sit there— talking about whatever came to mind those nights you’d spend together. your faith, his avoidance of it, your families, your hopes, your dreams. nothing was off topic.

in daryl, you found freedom— a way to break free from the life that had been laid out for you since birth. and in you, daryl found something he’d never had; someone who didn’t judge him. someone who saw more than just his last name.

but the world you both came from was small, and people talked. it was only a matter of time until your father had you cornered in your room, his voice rising as he yelled at you.

“i will not have my daughter running around with the dixon boys!” you could tell he was mad, it showed by the way his face was red, and more obviously by his tone.

“you don’t— you don’t understand!” you cried, your voice smaller, but still just as loud as his. you could feel the sadness in your bones when people talked down on the dixon brothers— especially daryl. he was just someone, much like yourself, trying to find his place in this world. “he’s good, daddy! he’s good!” he really was. you had never met someone as gentle as daryl dixon. how his calloused hands were so soft against your skin, or how his words weren’t seething with hatred towards you. he was so much better than those boys in your congregation— the ones your father wanted you to be with.

your father looked at you like you’d lost your mind— like the devil had taken over your soul. shaking his head in disbelief, he stepped closer to you. “good? you think that boy is good? i’ll tell you what, (y/n), that boy is trouble. he’s a dixon. you’re risking everything by being with him— your reputation, your future, your soul!” his voice grew louder with each word, a sharpness to them that cut right through you, however you could hear the fear in them, and it left you trembling.

tears welled in your eyes, but you wiped them away, standing firm. “he’s not like everyone says he is, daddy. you don’t see him the way i do! he’s kind, he listens— he cares!” your voice broke as you tried to make him understand, but you knew in your heart it wouldn’t matter. “he cares about me.” daryl dixon would never be good enough for your father, or anyone in this town.

the silence that followed was suffocating, the weight of your father’s disapproval hanging in the air like a storm about to break. another step closer, his voice softened, but it was still filled with authority. “you need to stop this, before it’s too late. before you lose everything.”

you but your lip, choking back the frustration, the sadness, the weight of it all threatening to overwhelm you. “i’ve already lost something.” you paused for a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat that was practically choking you. “i’ve lost myself.”

your father froze for a moment, as if your words had slapped him right across the face. his band, once poised in an authoritative gesture, fell to his side. “what are you talking about, darling?” his voice was softer now, edged with confusion. “you haven’t lost anything. you’re just… mixed up.”

you shook your head slowly, your tears finally spilling over, falling down your cheeks. “no— i’m not mixed up. for the first time, i feel like i’m seeing things clearly. daryl— he doesn’t ask me to be anything i’m not. he doesn’t expect perfection from me. he doesn’t see me just as the preacher’s daughter; this image you’ve painted of me. he truly sees me.”

you could see how your father’s eyes softened for a brief moment, but the stern preacher facade quickly retired. “it is my job to protect you from people like him, from this kind of confusing. he’s luring you in, you’re just too young to understand.”

“i’m not too young to know what i feel!” you countered, your voice shaking but firm. “you raised me to have faith, to believe in the good in people. but you won’t even give daryl a chance!”

“because i know where this leads!” he snapped back at you, his voice booming inside the four walls of your bedroom. you stood there for a moment, body shaking as you looked up at him, fear and sadness laced in your eyes. “he’ll break your heart. he’ll pull you down with him. and when he’s done, you’ll be left picking up the pieces, alone.”

the words stung, but they didn’t deter you. you were tired of being afraid, of being conformed into someone you weren’t. you stepped closer, standing as tall as you could in front of him. “maybe he will. maybe i’ll get hurt. but that’s my choice to make. not yours.”

for a moment, your father looked like he wanted to argue further, but his face softened again, the fight draining from him. he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “you don’t understand, (y/n). you have no idea how hard life can be. i’m trying to protect you.”

you swallowed hard, feeling the lump in your throat grow again. “i’m not a little kid, anymore. i don’t need protecting.”

with that, you turned and walked out of your room, your heart pounding in your chest. you knew this wasn’t the end of the fight. your father wouldn’t give up easily, but for the first time in your life, you weren’t walking a path someone else had laid out for you. you were walking down your own, no matter how uncertain or dangerous it seemed.

and no matter where it led, you knew daryl would be waiting at the end of it, standing in the moonlight by the creek, with those piercing blue eyes that made you feel like, for the first time, you were truly seen.

the tension from the argument with your father was still heavy in your chest, but you pushed it down as you made your way towards the creek, the pale light from the moon guiding you. your heart beat faster with each step, knowing he’d be waiting for you like he always did.

as you approached the creek, the familiar sound of water rushing over rocks greeted you, and there, leaning against a tree in his usual spot, was daryl dixon. his silhouette was bathed in moonlight, the soft glow highlighting the hard lines on his face and the quiet strength in his posture. he looked up at you when he heard you approaching, his blue eyes finding yours immediately.

“you’re late,” he muttered, but there was no way real bite in his words. he looked you over, as if checking to make sure you were alright.

you shrugged your shoulders, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the weight of the evening. “had to deal with my dad. he knows about us.”

daryl’s eyes darkened slightly, and his jaw tightened. “figured that’d happen sooner or later.” he kicked at a rock, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “what’d he say?”

you took a deep breath, stepping closer to him. “he said i’m throwing my life away, that i’m risking everything by being with you.” you laughed bitterly. “he thinks i’m gonna lose my soul just for knowing you.”

daryl’s gaze dropped to the ground, and he shifted uncomfortable. “maybe he’s right,” he mumbled. “ain’t no good for ya, (y/n). you should be with someone better. someone who ain’t…” he trailed off, his voice tougher than usual.

you felt a pang in your chest at his words, but you weren’t about to let him talk like that. without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. his calloused skin was rough against yours, but the warmth of his hand grounded you.

“don’t say that,” you whispered, stepping even closer so you were standing right in front of him, chests almost touching. “you’re good to me, daryl. i don’t care what my dad, or anyone else, says. i know you.”

he looked down at your hands, his fingers tightening around yours for just a moment before he glanced back up at you, those blue eyes searching your face for any hesitation. “you don’t know everything, though. ain’t nothin’ in my life but trouble.”

you shook your head, your voice soft but firm. “i don’t care. i don’t care about the rumours, or what people say, or even what my dad thinks. i care about you.”

for a long moment, daryl didn’t say anything. he just looked at you, his brow furrowed like he was trying to figure out why you were here, why you kept coming back to him when you had every reason to walk away. but then, slowly, his expression softened, and he let out a heavy sigh.

“yer somethin’ else, ya know that?” he muttered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. it was barely there, but it was enough to make your heart flutter.

you smiled back in return, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the cool night sir. “maybe. or maybe you just bring out a side of me no one else sees.”

daryl’s eyes flickered, and for a second, you thought he might pull away. but instead, his free hand came up to brush a stray piece of hair from your face. his touch was gentle, careful, like he was afraid you might break.

“yer dad ain’t gonna let this slide,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing your cheek. “you sure this is what ya want?”

you didn’t hesitate. “i’m sure. i want you, daryl. i only want you.”

his gaze softened, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. “alright then,” he whisperer, leaning in just enough this his breath mingled with yours. “if that’s what ya want.”

and before you could respond, his lips brushed against yours, soft and hesitant at first, like he was giving you a chance to change your mind. but you didn’t pull away. instead, you kissed him back, your hands coming up to rest on his chest as the world around you seemed to fade away. the creek, the woods, the weight of your father’s disapproval— none of it mattered in that moment. all that mattered was daryl, his lips on yours, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close as if you were something precious. something worth holding on to.

when you finally pulled away, breathless and your heart pounding, you rested your forehead against his, your hands still pressed against his chest. “i’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice steady, even though everything inside you felt like it was trembling.

daryl nodded, his arms still around you, and for the first time, you saw a hint of relief in his eyes. “neither am i,” he said quietly.

and in that moment, standing there by the creek with daryl’s arms around you, you knew that no matter what came next— no matter how hard things got —you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

[starboye]

starring: nate jacobs x male reader

request: Can i pleaaase request a sub Nate Jacobs. With him all dressed up in feminine lingerie with ribbons and stuff. And he gets thoroughly fucked and threatened with those pictures of Nate in them getting leaked and getting exposed. But nate is eager to please and does everything reader wants, despite his hyper masculine persona he has with everyone else. Nate also comes back, eager ,over and over to get fucked and suck and to wear those ribbons and feminine lingerie

warnings: smut, degradation kink, cursing, mention of male pregnancy, slight feminization, black mail, pet play (kinda)

now wasn't this a sight to see THE nate Jacobs under you as you pounded into him roughly, his hole now a messy wet cunt as he moans out your name like a prayer in a church. you had gotten some pretty incriminating evidence on the man of him taking your dick one night and you decided to use that against him and at first when he came over to get his hole pounded by you it was only supposed to be a one time thing.

something to just take the edge off from the weight of school but after you showed him those pictures of you covered in his cum he was willing to do any and everything to keep them from being released, and you took that further than ever now making him dress up in the cutest little lingerie outfit with some cute ribbons and bows and it was the most pretty shade of pink plus it came with a leash and collar so you had to get it.

the collar and leash now further showing how much of a bitch he was for you as his legs dangled on your sides while your cock abused his already sloppy hole more and more "yeah such a good cock sleeve for daddy right" you teased tugging at the leash, nate winces in pain feeling so stupid and low but there was no way he was gonna let you release those pictures of him and you "yes- ngh fuck- yes daddy" he whimpered feeling his third orgasm already approaching.

the way his pecs bounced up and down with your thrust made you even more throbbing in him and he could feel it all to well, your dick was drilling into his squishy walls at an absolutely ungodly rate but he loved it so much, it's like he was going cock drunk for you "you look so pretty for me like this" you say stretching the lace of the fabric back and letting it snap back onto his chest making his visibly shudder.

"y'know it's such a shame only I get to see this, maybe I should release these hm?" you taunt him holding the pictures in his face but he's to weak to try and grab it "please... please don't" nate begs weakly shaking his head. you chuckle at his words, he sounds such like a slut to you, the way he begs and moans and whispers for you just so he won't get outted as a dick whore who craves not the attention of the school but the cum from you.

"well keep taking this dick and I just might consider it" you say tightly holding the leash in hand while your free hand smacks nates ass to keep him aware and awake, no later than a minute after nate was arching his back and moaning out as he came all over his chest, further staining the perfectly good lingerie "y'think you got another in in there big boy" you question fondling his balls in you hand, over stimulating him slightly as he writhes in your touch.

"mhm" nate whine, his legs shaking like crazy beside you "eh nevermind I won't do that to you yet, I still need you to be able to walk home" you say noticing his shaking and pulling out, your loads squirting out of him but you couldn't let all those good juices go to waste so you plugged him up with a pretty pink butt plug "now get the fuck out of here" you harshly said getting up from your bed and going to take a shower while nate layed in his spot for a while absolutely out of his mind with a weak body.

when he finally heard you get in the shower he sniffed your bed for your scent wanting to savour it one last time before he leaves as he jerked off while sniffed your pillows and underwear, soon spraying his fourth load all over your sheets before he stops up and limped to the door to leave. in the later days nates tried to move on with life but he couldn't stop thinking about the greatest fucking you gave him and no matter how much he fingered himself at night it didn't compare to your dick so with half a brain filled with the thought of your dick he threw on the cum stained lingerie set and collar you made him wear that he kept and walked to your house with a jacket and some joggers over the lingerie.

he knocked on you door and you answered surprised to see him "what do you want" you ask and without a second thought nate walked in and kissed you deeply while stripping his clothes to show you his true slutty self "so I suspect you want me to fuck you again" you ask moving to sit on the couch "mhm" nate shyly bods embarrassed by his own whore like actions "well this time you're gonna work for it" you sternly say "yes sir" nate replied "get on your knees" you demand and nate immediately dropped to his knees and crawled in between your legs.

by the end of the night nate struggled to walk and had enough cum in him to make a baby and you had a lot more blackmail material on him but I have a feeling you're not gonna need it when he's pawing to get in your pants daily.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @itsares @gargoylesworld09 @kadenvatsune @fuckshft

[p0orbaby]

Forgive Me, Father, for I Have Sinned

summary: two horny idiots risking eternal damnation for a quickie

warnings: SMUT 18+, sex in a church, yup, you read that right

a/n: loosely based on this request

word count: 2.6k

-

“This is so wrong,” you breathe, the words practically dissolving into Leah’s mouth as she presses you against the back wall of the church hall. The stone feels frigid through your dress, even in the sweltering summer heat; it’s that old kind of cold that sticks around in centuries-old buildings, regardless of what’s happening outside. The whole place smells faintly of damp wood and incense, a mix of candle wax and lingering prayers that seems completely at odds with what’s going on right now.

“Yeah?” Leah murmurs, with that infuriatingly calm tone, as though you’re having a conversation about the weather instead of whatever this is. Her hands are already hiking your dress up higher, bunching the fabric around your hips, her fingers deftly working with the same quiet confidence she shows in on the pitch—calculated, precise. “Seems like you’re coping just fine”

You catch yourself almost laughing, but it comes out as a choked breath instead. Somewhere in the background, the distant murmur of the christening service continues, the priest’s voice droning on in a sort of meditative monotone that feels strangely far away. It’s all “bless this child” and “holy sacrament,” while you’re up against the cold stone, your knickers soon to be halfway down your thighs. You think about how the acoustics in churches are supposed to be excellent, but all you can hear is the maddening thud of your pulse in your ears and the occasional scrape of Leah’s teeth grazing your neck.

It occurs to you that maybe you should care more about the fact that you’re technically still within earshot of Leah’s great-uncle reading from the New Testament, or that her mum is seated just a few rows away with her eyes shut in reverent concentration, her face an expression of serene grace. Leah’s brother is the godfather, you think, or at least, you’re pretty sure that’s what she said in the car on the way here, when you were barely listening because you’d just spotted a stray thread hanging from the cuff of her shirt and were fixated on the way it danced back and forth as she gestured.

Leah’s fingers hook under your jaw, pulling you back to her with just the right amount of force—gentle, but insistent, like she’s read your mind and knows you’re distracted. “You’re thinking,” she says, her voice barely a murmur against your lips. “Stop doing that”

You glance around, a half-hearted attempt at convincing yourself that no one’s actually going to walk in, that the ancient, creaking door isn’t about to swing open and reveal this scene to some poor, unsuspecting churchgoer who’d only stepped out for a breath of fresh air. The kind of person who’d probably drop dead on the spot just from the shock, like a character in one of those Victorian novels who faints whenever someone mentions anything vaguely improper. You almost want to giggle at the thought, but Leah’s hand slips lower and that faint urge is replaced by a much more urgent kind of distraction.

“I’m serious,” you whisper, though you’re not even sure why. It’s not like Leah doesn’t know the situation is mental—she’s the one who pulled you into this alcove in the first place, after all. You’re not entirely convinced it wasn’t premeditated, either. There’s a flicker of memory—Leah’s hand on your thigh during the ceremony, her fingers tracing idle patterns just above your knee as if to say, this isn’t the place, but let’s see how far we can push it. The way she’d glanced at you, eyes gleaming with a glint of amusement that suggested she was already considering how scandalised everyone would be if you just vanished for a few minutes.

“This is your cousin’s christening,” you hiss, as if stating the obvious is going to somehow ground the situation in reality. But Leah’s lips are on yours again, and you’re suddenly very aware of the way her hand slides down your back, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your knickers in a way that makes your knees wobble.

“Distant cousin,” she corrects, voice muffled against your neck. “Barely know him”

“It’s a baby,” you shoot back, though you’re already arching into her touch, your voice catching on the last word as her fingers find their mark. “Not sure how well anyone knows him”

“Exactly,” she says, like that settles it, as if committing some vaguely sacrilegious act in the back of a church is completely justified because the baby in question probably won’t remember this day beyond the dozens of poorly framed photos on the mantelpiece twenty years from now.

Your head falls back against the stone wall with a dull thud, the kind of sound that suggests ancient masonry, the type of historical significance that’s more suited to solemn reflection than whatever obscene thoughts are currently racing through your mind. You find yourself half-listening to the priest’s voice drifting in from the main hall, the rhythmic lilt of, “We commend this child to your care,” and you think about how ironic it would be if God really was watching right now. There’s a brief flash of Catholic guilt that flares up somewhere in your chest, though you aren’t even Catholic, and it’s quickly extinguished by the scrape of Leah’s teeth against your earlobe.

“Thought you didn’t believe in all that,” she whispers, her breath warm against your ear.

“I don’t,” you manage to reply, though your voice is strangled and you’re not entirely sure if you believe yourself. “It’s just… bad form, isn’t it?”

Leah lets out a quiet, breathy laugh—so close you can feel the vibration against your skin. “Well, you’ve never been big on good form,” she says, and it’s impossible to argue because she’s right and you both know it.

She’s always known how to push your buttons, ever since the night you first met—a benefit gala, of all places. You remember standing there in some ridiculously overpriced dress, holding a glass of champagne you didn’t really want, staring at a painting you didn’t really understand while Leah’s voice, smooth and confident, drifted over your shoulder with some cutting remark about modern art. “I’m pretty sure my dead nan could’ve done better than that,” she’d said, and you’d laughed, not because it was particularly funny, but because there was something about her nonchalance, the way she didn’t even pretend to be impressed, that made you feel instantly at ease.

The ease didn’t last, of course. There was that night in Paris—somewhere between the hotel bar and the Eiffel Tower, where you’d argued over directions and ended up wandering aimlessly along the Seine, half-drunk and clutching onto each other for warmth. You’d made up in a dark alleyway, pressed against a café’s shuttered doors, and you remember thinking then, as you do now, that Leah had a knack for getting you into situations that were entirely inappropriate and yet felt ridiculously right at the time.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath now, half in frustration, half in something else entirely, your fingers curling into the fabric of Leah’s half open shirt, tugging it harder as she shifts closer.

“That’s the spirit,” she murmurs back, and there’s that smirk again, the one that makes you want to throttle her and kiss her in equal measure.

For a split second, you wonder if anyone’s noticed your absence. The baby’s mother—Leah’s aunt, or second cousin, or something equally convoluted—had been so preoccupied making sure the godparents were holding the child correctly that you doubt she even noticed the two of you slip out. The priest’s voice carries on, something about being welcomed into the flock, and you’re almost tempted to peek around the corner to see if Leah’s mum has adopted that expression she gets when she’s half-listening to anything vaguely religious—eyes closed, hands clasped together in front of her, the picture of devout piety. You’ve only ever seen her like that at weddings, christenings, and funerals, and you briefly wonder if she’s ever actually questioned any of it, or if it’s just habit by now.

“What would your mum say if she knew?” you ask, though your voice is breathless, barely more than a murmur.

“Probably something about needing to go to confession,” Leah replies, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, her fingers tightening around your thigh. “Or at least light a candle”

The laugh that escapes you is entirely involuntary, echoing faintly against the high ceiling, and you quickly slap a hand over your mouth, your eyes wide as though you’ve just been caught breaking some sacred vow. Leah’s grin widens as she leans in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and you feel the warmth of her breath against your skin, as though she’s branding you with it.

It’s insane, really. The whole situation is insane. There’s a plaque on the wall above you, some inscription dedicated to a saint you’ve never heard of, and you wonder if people are meant to kneel here to pray or if this spot is usually reserved for flower arrangements during weddings. You picture the church bustling with activity—weddings, funerals, christenings—the whole spectrum of life’s milestones, and here you are, using it as a makeshift boudoir. It’s enough to make you think about eternity and sin and all the other things people pretend not to care about but secretly obsess over in the middle of the night. You imagine explaining this to someone—anyone, really—and the look on their face. “We couldn’t help ourselves,” you’d say, as though that’s a reasonable excuse for dry-humping your girlfriend in the shadow of a marble saint.

Leah’s hand slips under the hem of your skirt, her touch gentle and yet completely assured, fingers tracing the line of your thigh with maddening deliberateness. Her fingertips are cool against your heated skin, and the contrast sends a jolt through you—a reminder that this is happening here, now, in a church where every whisper echoes like a confession. Her fingers slide higher, brushing against the damp lace of your knickers, and the way she smirks as she feels how wet you are only makes the whole thing more obscene.

The distant hum of the priest’s voice is a low murmur, as if he’s conducting a prayer in the background of your own private, silent worship. Leah’s touch is reverent in a different way—her fingers slipping beneath the fabric, tracing slow, teasing circles that make your hips twitch involuntarily. It’s a game she plays sometimes, just to see how far she can push you before you break; her thumb grazing over your clit with just enough pressure to make you gasp, but not nearly enough to satisfy.

You bite down on your lip, trying to stifle the soft whimper that escapes you as her fingers dip lower, stroking along your slick folds with an infuriating patience. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your neck as she whispers, “We could get caught, you know.” There’s a wicked glint in her eye, like she’s daring you to care, like she wants you to make her stop just so she can ignore you and do it anyway.

The idea of someone stumbling across you both in this state—your skirt hiked up, knickers pulled aside, Leah’s fingers deep inside you—is scandalous in a way that only makes you wetter. You can’t help but glance towards the arched door, half-expecting to hear it creak open at any moment. But no one’s there, just the faint rustle of hymn books and the distant shuffle of feet, the sound of polite society carrying on obliviously while you’re being shamelessly fingered behind an ancient stone pillar.

Leah’s free hand grips your waist, pulling your hips towards her with a firmness that makes your breath hitch, as if she’s grounding you in this very moment—her fingers curling inside you, her thumb finally pressing against your clit in a rhythm that’s far too sinful for this setting. “Look at you,” she breathes, her voice a soft tease, as though she’s amused by just how quickly you’ve unravelled. “Anyone would think you’ve got no self-control”

You would glare at her if you weren’t already clutching her shoulders to steady yourself, your head tilting back against the wall as a quiet moan escapes you. The pressure builds with each deliberate thrust of her fingers, the slick heat pooling between your thighs making it impossible to think about anything but the lewd wet sounds of her hand working you over. There’s a heat spreading through your chest, a kind of wild desperation that feels almost holy in its intensity. It’s like being on the edge of a fever dream, where nothing exists but the maddening insistence of her touch and the electric pull of release just out of reach.

“Shh,” Leah whispers, though her voice is laced with a kind of arrogant amusement, as if she knows full well you’re not capable of being quiet right now. “You’re going to give us away”

Your nails dig into the fabric of her dress as her thumb keeps circling your clit with a precise, unyielding pressure, and you swear you hear the creak of a pew somewhere in the background, the faint shift of footsteps as someone else moves within the church. The thought that anyone could be wandering towards the back at this very moment only makes your pulse quicken, your body tightening around Leah’s fingers as she pushes deeper, curling them in a way that makes your whole world collapse inward.

“Fuck—” The word slips out before you can stop it, and you’re not sure if it’s a prayer or a curse. Probably both. Your hips grind against her hand, chasing the friction, desperate to come undone in a way that feels almost defiant in this sacred space. Leah’s lips curve into a slow, smug grin against your skin, her breath hot and ragged as she watches you unravel beneath her touch.

“You’re close,” she murmurs, her voice low and throaty. “Aren’t you?”

You nod—there’s no point in pretending otherwise—your hands sliding up to bury themselves in her hair, tugging her closer until her lips are a breath away from yours. You kiss her then, hard and hungry, swallowing the sounds you can’t keep contained, your thighs trembling as she drives you closer to the edge. The faint taste of her lip balm lingers on your tongue, that familiar cherry sweetness that always reminds you of her bedroom, and the first time you kissed her, with one hand in her hair and the other fumbling with the hem of her shirt.

The climax hits you suddenly, like the shuddering crash of a hymn’s last note echoing through the church. Your whole body goes taut, your breath catching in your throat as Leah’s fingers work you through the wave of pleasure, coaxing out every last tremor as you gasp into her mouth. For a second, the world is nothing but a blur of sensation—hot and electric and thoroughly blasphemous.

Leah’s hand slows, her fingers slipping out of you with a final, lingering caress that feels like both an ending and a promise. You’re still catching your breath when she leans in close again, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, her lips curved in that maddeningly smug way.

“Still think this is wrong?” she asks, and there’s a softness in her eyes, an intimacy that lingers despite the scandal of it all.

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands still tangled in her hair as you look up at her. “Completely,” you murmur, your voice breathless but certain, and you know she’s right when she smiles at you like that, because this might be wrong, but it’s the kind of wrong that feels so damn right.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

sin, sin, sin.

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex, catholic church setting, confessional, rafe kind of pretending to be a priest (itll make sense quickly), religious trauma, if youre religious and easily offended probably skip this one

rafe knows little about his mother, but the one thing he does know is that she was a devout catholic. maybe it's stories ward told him, or the fact that his strongest memory of her was her funeral, held in the same catholic church he's currently pushing the grand wooden doors to enter.

it's his last chance as he looks into the candlelit hall. to turn around and go back into the darkness of the night, let the inky blackness swallow him whole.

rafe feels a pang in his chest. good old catholic guilt his mother passed down to him. rafe lets out a curse before he steps foot into the church, wishing he got his father's fake christianity instead, going to church on holidays and only using the religion when it suits you.

rafe looks away from the altar, the cross hanging above it, and to the confession booth to the side of the pews. his feet carry them there with the false confidence he's always been able to paste on as a front.

rafe looks at the door and then swallows thickly. guilt, guilt, guilt. he's not sure anything could help, yet he opens the handle and steps inside.

the creaky door slams shut behind him as rafe sits and faces forward towards the screen, just opaque enough to make out a figure on the other side in the low light.

rafe realizes then that he doesn't know the words. 

“forgive me father, for i have sinned.” a voice from the other side suddenly rings out, a soft, feminine voice. rafe suddenly is aware of his mistake. “it has been two days since my last confession.”

rafe knows he should interrupt you, stop you from continuing on, but something in him stirs him to stay, his interest peaking.

“ive slept with another man. i know you're tired of hearing it, father. i just can't help myself. i can't seem to wait, it's like something takes over me. father, i feel as if i am possessed by some sexual demon.” 

you scoff and rafe can see your body crumple on the other side, becoming an even smaller shape.

“tell me what happened.” rafe says.

“i-i had a date. a nice catholic man, or at least who i thought was a nice catholic man. he took me to dinner, and then i thanked him by getting on my knees immediately after.”

“keep going…” there's something about your voice that stirs rafe, has his hand gravitating to his crotch, there's a sexual prowess in your voice mixed with the guilt and innocence, like you're describing the deeds of some other woman entirely.

“he didn't even initiate it. i did. i pulled him into my apartment when he was dropping me back home. can you believe that? he was being a gentleman bringing me back to my doorstep and i just had to be a total hussy.”

rafe presses his hand down against his growing cock, imagining himself as that so called catholic gentleman.

“i unzipped his pants and tugged them down. he wasn't even hard. i played with him over his underwear, kissed his length and sucked on it and everything.”

rafes hands follow your description as he leans back against the wooden wall, tugging down his zipper and closing his eyes to picture it even better, some anonymous bold woman.

“i then pulled his underwear down. right there in the front hallway. when i saw him… i knew i was going to sleep with him next.”

you pause for long enough that rafe realizes he needs to speak. he hopes his voice doesn't come out strained. “then you slept with him?”

“yes. didn't even make it to the bedroom, he took me against the dining room table. how am i ever expected to settle down and have my own children and a loving family when all i really want is that high.”

“how does the high make you feel?”

“it comes right before the orgasm, really.” your voice drops in octave, and rafe wonders if your pussy is getting wet reimagining the scene. “when he's inside of me, pounding hard, and i know he's about to lose it too.”

rafe pushes his underwear down and tugs his cock out, not kid himself any longer that he's not extremely turned on and cannot leave the confessional with his pants tented.

“we're moaning in sync, not worrying about the neighbors in that moment. im clenching around him and he's-” you hesitate for a moment, and rafe swears he hears a sensual exhale, as if you may be touching yourself on the other side of the booth. “he's stretching me out. i love the pulsing of right when he's about to cum-”

rafe lets out a moan as he strokes before he realizes and sits up suddenly, but his reaction is too delayed as you're out of your booth and opening the door to his.

“you perv! father-” you come face to face with a handsome young man instead of the elderly priest you expected. “you're not the father.”

your eyes then travel down to his cock and that devious part of you taking over again.

“it-it was an accident.” rafe says quickly, trying to explain why he's in the priests side of the confessional when you step inside and close the door behind you.

“i have another sin to confess.” you pull the skirt of your dress up, revealing that you're wearing nothing beneath, your glimmering wet pussy directly in front of rafes face. he could so easily lean forward and taste you.

“ive always wanted to fuck in the confessional.”

rafe grabs your hips and tugs you down. he doesn't even know your name. he doesn't need to as his lips smash against yours, wildly making out.

you reach down between your bodies, grasping rafes hard cock and giving it a few strokes before you line yourself up.

you hesitate for just a moment before sinking down as rafe moans into your mouth, hoping that his mother isn't up in heaven looking down at him desecrating this holy place with you.

you gasp and pull away from the kiss as you adjust, your pussy being stretched just the way you described liking it.

“fuck.” rafe hisses out.

“shouldn't curse in a place of worship.” you smirk at him, cutting off whatever reply he had as you begin to move, bouncing up and down.

rafe grabs your hips, helping you move. his hands are strong as they disappear beneath your dress, needing to feel your bare skin.

“so good.” you whimper, pressing your forehead against rafes, breathing heavily as the temperature in the small booth rises.

“fuck, your pussy-” rafe grunts out as his hips begin to snap up into your tight heat. 

“you ever had a good catholic girl like this?” there's a hint of playfulness in your voice that rafe is shocked you can manage with your labored breathing.

“from your confession, im not sure you're all that good.” rafe says, moving his hand to rub his thumb over your clit, mostly just to see the reaction on your face as you moan out.

hes thankful for the late hour as he doesn't move his mouth forward to silence yours, letting your beautiful symphony of pleasure escape through the confessional walls and fill the church.

“this high.” you arch your back, eyes rolling back in your head as your fingers tighten on rafes shoulders. 

he knows exactly what you're speaking of. that moment when you're both on the apex, his cock swelling inside you while his thumb rubs against your clit, doing anything he can to elicit a reaction out of you, to increase your pleasure even more.

“cum for me.” rafe commands in a shockingly even voice, even surprising himself as your body stills and then shakes, crumpling forward into rafes strong arms as your pussy clenches around rafes cock, and it's all he needs to release himself, thrusting upwards and spilling inside of your cunt.

you're both breathing heavily as you come down from your high, wrapped up in each others bodies and your own intersecting pleasure before you have to pull away, realization setting in.

“oh my god.” you giggle. “we just fucked in the church.”

“shit.” rafe laughs as well. this is certainly not what he meant to do when entering into the church, yet his soul still feels lighter as he looks at your smile.

“god,” you look up at the ceiling, as if you're talking to him directly. “im so sorry. im going to hell.”

“i guess ill see you there.” rafe chuckles before he's interrupted by a gasp as you pull off of him.

rafe is quick to get himself back together, very aware of the fact that you're still bare under your dress, his cum no doubt dropping down your thigh.

you push open the door to the tiny booth and take a breath of cool air before rafe is quick to follow you out.

“i thought i heard a noise.”

you both freeze as you look up to see the nun walking from across the aisle.

“do you need the priest? he's already retired for the night.”

“no, sister.” you respond, a soft, innocent smile gracing your features as you grasp rafes hand and pull him to continue towards the exit. “see you at service sunday.”

you both let out a laugh as you push open the large wooden doors and flee from any more questions.

“can i at least get your name?” rafe asks as you enter into the night, way lit by moonlight.

“no.” you smile back at him. “but i will have another confession to make. tomorrow. same time.”

[dimesdimesdimess]

CONFESSION - Part Two

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader

Warnings: innocent reader, lustful priest, oral (female receiving), fingering, swearing

Readers Notes: You guys enjoyed the first part so much I wasted no time writing the second part! I hope you enjoy and there could be one more part coming. Not proof read, possible spelling errors.

part one

As the week passed all you could think about is what happened with you and Father Charlie during your confession. Part of you felt guilty for doing what you did, but another part of you enjoyed it and you hated to admit that you were looking forward to Thursday and to seeing him again. You had no idea what he could possibly have planned this time. He had spoken to you on Sunday and instructed you to come on Thursday after hours, so there would be no interruptions. You never had done so before, but you carefully picked out your outfit: a cute tan mini dress with florals on it and a cute bow that tied in the bust area of the dress and tan ballet flats. Along with your white rosary around your neck. You took one last look of yourself in the mirror before you finally headed out and made your way to the church. 

Father Charlie was in his office waiting for you, his fingertips tracing along his desk as he thought of you and thought of your pussy as it glistened under the dim light of the confession booth last Thursday. He too knew the thoughts he had were a sin.. But he always knew how to absolve himself of his lustful ways. You had come walking into the church, dipping your fingers into the holy water and signing the cross before you headed toward his office. You thought a silly thing for you to sign the cross considering the sins you were going to commit soon. 

You took a deep breath as you walked toward Father Charlie’s office and once you were face to face with the door you took another deep breath and quickly soothed out your dress before you lightly knocked on the door. “Father? It’s me, Y/N.” you said softly. A warm smile formed on his face when he heard your voice. 

“Come in, Y/N.” he replied. 

You slowly opened the door, peeking your head in at first before stepping aside. He didn’t lift his head up but his eyes looked up through his lashes and he slowly brushed his fingers against his chin as he saw what you were wearing and he smirked to himself as he quickly stood up. “Right on time as usual..” he hummed, eyeing you up and down in your little dress. You could feel his stares as you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes as you felt your face growing hot. He liked that. He liked how innocent and shy you were around him. He leaned against his desk and his hands rested against it. “Sit down, Y/N.” he murmured. 

You slowly walked over and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk and you glanced up to see him standing before you, he looked handsome as always. You tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear nervously. “So.. uh.. What are we going to do today, father?” you asked in a mousy little voice. He had a half smirk on his lips. 

“Well.. I thought we’d talk more about your thoughts. The dirty ones. Are you still having them after our last talk?” he looked down at you, his stare so intense. 

You nodded hesitantly. How could you not have them after what happened last week. 

“Mm..” he says softly. “And they’re still the same as you described to me?” he questions. 

“Yes..” you answer softly, peering back up at him and seeing the smile on his face. He loved this. 

“Mm.. Well, I think we should maybe take the next step into helping you.” he suggests. 

You raised an eyebrow at him curiously. “What’s the next step?” you ask. He suddenly got closer to you and he leaned over toward you, his hands resting on either side of the arm rests of your chair and his hands gripping it tight. If you wanted to move.. You couldn’t because he had you trapped between him and the chair. You stared up at him. Your eyes meeting with such intensity, he licked over his lips as he studied your face for a moment. 

“The next step is making those desires of yours come true..” he uttered in a low raspy tone. His right hand letting go of the armrest of the chair and reaching up to touch your face and you jump slightly at his touch as his fingers caress your cheek slowly. “Instead of you playing with yourself and imagining this man touching you.. I can help you.. I can give you what you want.” he whispered, the pad of his thumb tracing along your bottom lip. The very feeling of it makes you shudder in pleasure and you could feel your breathing growing heavy.

“Is.. Is.. that allowed? I thought priests couldn’t do things like that..” you mumble as you look up at him innocently. 

He smirked and his face moved closer to yours and now your lips were practically inches apart from one another. “God wants this.. God wants you to give yourself to me. He chose me to give this to you..We must obey him, right?” he mumbles before his lips crash against yours, not even giving you a chance to answer. A soft moan escapes you as you kiss him back without a thought, nodding in response to him. You kissed him with such a hunger that you began to drag your tongue along his lips and slipped into his mouth, he moved his hand from your face and reached up to grab a handful of your hair and tugged your head back forcefully. You look at him with wide eyes as you gasp. “Do you want this?” he mumbles to you as his lips press against your jaw. 

You let out a soft whimper. “Yes.. Yes..” you pleaded. 

“Yes what?” he whispered in your ear. 

“Yes father..” you whimpered. 

He smirks and lets you go as he stands up straight again and he takes a hold of your hands and stands you up. “Take off your clothes.” he demands as he reaches up and tugs at the bow on the front of your dress until it unravels and opens up at the top just enough to get a peek at your breasts. You scrape your teeth against your bottom lip as you nodded at his words, not even thinking about questioning him this time. You slowly begin to slip your dress off and let it fall into a puddle at your feet and you step out of it, staring up at him as you stood there in just your bra and panties. He licked over his lips as he looked over your body and he ran his fingers up along your left arm which caused you to shiver. “Remove everything..” he whispers. You look up at him and you lock eyes as you slowly unclasped your bra and let it drop to the floor as it slides off your shoulders, Father Charlie takes a deep breath as he stares down at your breasts, biting his bottom lip as his eyes linger down and he watches you slip your panties off next. He runs his hand along your abdomen as he just stares at your body, his staring making you feel a bit shy and when you try to cover yourself with your hands he quickly grabs them to stop you and he shakes his head. “Don’t. You’re beautiful..” he says softly. 

You feel the heat rushing to your face again and you smile at him. “Sit down, Y/N.” he mumbles. You look at him confused but sit back down as he asks and the cold leather of the chair pressed against your ass makes you shiver and you watch as he gets down on his knees before you. His hands run over your thighs, slowly moving up and down in between your thighs. He stares at you with such intensity in his eyes as he smirks. “This is a blessing from God.” he mutters. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, his hands feel so good against your soft skin and you breathe heavily as you watch him as he spreads your legs open and leans his head down so that he’s right in between your thighs and soft noise escapes from your lips. 

“F..Father..” you say breathlessly. 

“Shh..” he mumbles, softly pressing kisses along your left inner slowly making his way up to your pussy. Your eyes rolled back just feeling his lips against you. You couldn’t believe it but you were already wet and in desperate need to feel his mouth against your pussy and without hesitation as his lips grew closer and closer to your throbbing cunt your hands grab onto his head and you grip his hair between his fingers and he smirks to him when he feels you tugging at his hair and he sticks his tongue out and drags it up your inner thigh and he lets out a soft moan and now his hands grab your thighs and spread when further that his props your legs up over the arm rests of the chair and now you were spread wide open, your pussy completely on display for him and he can see the arousal dripping between your lips and you could hear a soft groan escaping from his lips from the very sight before he buries his face in your pussy and his tongue dives right in between your wet folds, he presses his tongue against your swollen clit and flicks his tongue against it slowly as his hands grip your thighs tugging you closer and you throw your head back in pleasure feeling his warm tongue in your pussy and you moan softly, gripping his hair tighter in between your fingers.

He begins to circle his tongue slowly around your clit, your wetness smearing on his face as he begins to lap his tongue around your clit and flicking it playfully before sucking on it a bit. You let out a soft moan and your head tilted back and a small “Mm..” escaping your lips. He pressed his tongue firmly against your clit again dragging it up and down and he glanced up at you for a moment to see you completely overcome with pleasure. He starts dragging his tongue down now and sliding it inside of you, pumping it slowly. You begin moving your hips slightly against him, tugging hard at his hair as your moans grew a bit louder, your eyes rolling back. Father Charlie was enjoying every minute of this that his pants were so uncomfortably tight from how hard he was now, he removed his tongue and slide it backup to your clit, and moved his right hand between your legs using three of his fingers he ran them in between your wet folds getting his fingers nice and coated in your arousal before shoving the three of them inside of you roughly as his tongue played with your clit and he now pumped his fingers inside of you at a steady pace. You gasped loudly as you whimpered between your loud moans. “Fuck.. Father…” you could hardly speak. His fingers dug into your flesh as he squeezed your thigh for dear life with his other hand and he pulled his head back momentarily and he spits on your clit and his saliva runs down to his fingers as his they continues to pump deep inside of you and curling just slightly to hit the right spots inside of you. You were so wet that his face was a mess with your arousal.

His cock pressed tight against his pants from how hard he was but he was too focused on pleasuring you to even think about himself. He’d masturbate after thinking of you to get himself off. You didn’t know how much longer of this you could take, your legs began to tremble and your moans were becoming extremely vocal and you could feel that funny feeling you felt before when you were close and now it was building faster than before and you pushed his face against your pussy and your thighs wrapped around him forcing his head there. It felt like the devil had suddenly taken over and now both his hands were on your thighs and he was moaning against your pussy, sucking, licking every last bit of you like you were his last meal. “F-.. Charlie..” you cried out. “I’m gonna.. Gonna cum.. Fuck..” you whimpered and you held him tight against you as you finally reached your orgasm and your body convulsed and twitched against him as you came hard all over his face. You could hear him groaning and mumbling and he let go of your thighs and pushed them away as he pulled his head up for air and he was moaning as his face dripped in your cum. 

“Goddamn..” he groaned, licking his lips and then taking two fingers and wiping them against his face so they were coated in your cum and he stared at you. You felt like you were seeing stars when you finally opened your eyes again, your body felt stiff and tired now and you stared back at him and he reached over and grabbed a hold of your face and shoved the two fingers covered in your cum into your mouth forcing you to taste yourself and your eyes rolled back and you sucked his fingers clean like a desperate little slut. He watched you with delight in his eyes and he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and then put them into his mouth, sucking your saliva off as he stared intensely at you before he stood back up on his feet and soothing out his clothes and fixing his collar. “I think we really got somewhere this time.. In no time I’ll have you rid of those dirty thoughts in that head of yours.” he grinned. 

You didn’t even know what to say because you were still in a daze. You slowly sat up trying to compose yourself as you reached down to grab your dress and he suddenly stopped you and made you look at him. Father Charlie leaned down and he kissed you softly. You kissed him back and when he pulled away you didn’t want him too and a part of you felt disappointed. He now begins to pray over you and absolve you of your sins. You stared silently as he did and all you could think about was how you wanted him more than ever and now you weren’t sure if this was helping you or making your feelings for him worse. But all you knew was that you desperately wanted to fuck the priest.

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[haeryna]

in my dreams you love me back (i still love you) ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

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summary: soft moments with shoko keep your heart soft as well, but suguru finds something that he wasn't supposed to.

tw: sfw but vague mentions of losing your virginity. your mother MEDDLES but let's be real, we'd do the same. allusions to the bible for the aesthetic but also because i like the imagery of the themes. not proofread.

notes: title taken from red velvet's "in my dreams." the second half of "i would give up heaven if i had to." another short chapter because i split it in two originally! banner from @/cafekitsune

"You look like shit."

You can't stop the huff that escapes your mouth as Shoko peers at you from your phone, propped up against your rice cooker. She's somewhere in the United States right now, attending a medical conference. She isn't wrong; your ten minute break in the bathroom had turned into a full-blown half hour breakdown. Thankfully, none of your coworkers pointed out the redness of your eyes and the sallow tint to your skin. Your manager had practically forced you to go home early. They all assumed that you had broken down about how the Gojo Satoru had demanded you be the one to make his drink. At this point, you were too tired to correct them.

"I just got back from the cafe, leave me alone." Yawning, you reach for a bowl. "I'm starving and exhausted, and now you're going to yell at me, Sho?"

You can hear the heavy exhale, and the camera blurs as she lets out a cloud of cigarette smoke. "I never said that. Did you see them today?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Nobody else can make you cry that hard, and I know it wasn't me."

You hesitate for a moment. "Mom thinks I should hear them out."

"Personally, I would tell them I'll speak to them after a down payment of 5k."

"Shoko!"

But your laughter fills the air, and you can catch Shoko's self-satisfied smirk from the other end. "There she is." A soft haze fills your screen as her voice softens. "Do I need to fly back and tell the two of them to fuck off?"

"I can tell them to leave myself," you protest, but Shoko gives you a deadpan stare. "Okay, well, maybe it'll be hard."

As the silence falls, warm and comfortable, you bustle around the kitchen, spooning rice into your bowl of leftovers. The air is warm, and despite your exhaustion, you can't help but appreciate the dreaminess of the evening. Shoko watches you, dark eyes unreadable. "What?" you finally ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

"Just be careful," she sighs. "Satoru and Suguru will probably do some crazy shit to get you to notice them. I just don't want those idiots to scare you."

"They don't care enough to do that," is your sardonic reply, and this time, it's her turn to laugh.

"If you really think that, then you're blinder than I thought."

He is breaking me down on every side, and now it's too late for me; he has uprooted my hopes like a tree.

When the number of your old landline rings on Suguru's cellphone, he almost blocks it out of habit before he registers the last four digits. Panicking, he immediately accepts the call.

"Hey, is everything okay? I-"

Your mother's voice chirps back at him, a bit staticky from the old phone that he knows she'd insisted on keeping installed in the kitchen. "Suguru, dear, could you do me a favor?"

Ingrained instinct forces a "yes ma'am," from his mouth before he can even process the request. He can practically hear the smile in your mother's voice. "It won't take too long, don't worry. My back has been aching an awful amount after my last surgery, but I've been meaning to wear some of my old church clothes to Bingo Night. Would you mind grabbing it for me?"

The attic is cluttered and old, and the dust stings his eyes, but Suguru can't bring himself to complain as he begins to rummage through boxes. It feels like seeing you again, like being your Suguru again, as he unearths old photo albums, and stuffed toys. There was the rabbit you used to carry around all the time. A picture frame, of you, Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru one summer afternoon. Carefully, he wipes away the dust, smiling at the memory. You'd lost your front tooth that summer; now, it was forever memorialized.

Finally, he reaches a small collection of boxes in the back. The dress lays draped over a small stack of boxes, but as he grabs it, one topples over, spilling its contents all over the floor.

Suddenly, selfishly, Suguru is grateful that Satoru stayed behind back in their hotel room, because inside the cardboard box is envelopes. At least thousands of them, crammed into each possible corner, dates written on the front in the same handwriting you've had since high school. He tears open another box, only to find the same. Three whole boxes of letters. Selfish hope and heavier dread sinks into his skin like the dust that is slowly falling to the floor; Suguru has unearthed something that he knows he's not supposed to see.

Was this how Adam felt, holding the forbidden fruit in his hand? Which was stronger; the will of God, or the love of man?

"You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.

He's almost frantic as he searches for the first letter, scattering them around himself until he finds it; labelled a week after Suguru had taken Satoru with him to pursue what they had believed to be an impossible dream. Suguru hesitates only for a moment, until with one decisive swipe, he rips the flap from the waxy paper beneath. This one is addressed to him.

Suguru,

My parents put me in therapy. Remember how we always used to joke that if anyone needed it, it would be you? Why did you leave me? What did I do wrong? It hurts, Sugu, why, why, why My therapist thinks that keeping letters will help, and my parents want me to at least give it a try. Mom won't say anything, but I know she's concerned. Dad's already torn into Toru's parents, so the whole town is fully aware of what they've done. Shoko says that they're practically livid with shame, skulking around the town as that'll fix their reputation. You missed it; there was one night when the fireflies came back, and I swear they filled the entire sky. It was beautiful. It reminded me of the first time we met, do you remember that?

I wish you'd been here to see it. I'm sorry, Suguru. I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough to take along. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you I love you. I hope you're safe. I hope you're taking care of Toru for me.

I love you so much that it's hard to be mad.

Water drips down onto the ink of where you'd signed your name, and with a start, Suguru realizes he's crying. Gently folding the letter, he sets it aside, and reaches for the next one.

Mom and Dad have what Grandma had. I'm scared, Toru. I wish you were here. You'd always say something silly that would make me forget for even a moment.

Another.

I saw you on the television today, Toru. You're so beautiful it hurts.

Another.

I've given up on properly going to college. They're so sick that I'm terrified to leave them alone.

More. More. More.

I try my best not to listen, but the radio in the coffee shop plays the songs you make, Sugu. I hate it, but it's selfish of me. The girl you sing about, does Toru get along with her? Does she make you happy?

He can't stop himself from reading any more than he can stop the tears pouring down his face. They'd missed so much of your life, and yet you'd dutifully written letter after letter, as if you'd planned on them seeing it. Like you hoped they would come back some day. The next letter was only written two years ago, but it turns Suguru's blood to ice.

I saw the scandal on one of the gossip magazines while I was out shopping for groceries, Toru. The Chanel model? Really? I was kind of hoping for the Gucci one, she seems so nice to her assistant.

I say this like you're a celebrity. A celebrity that I can just laugh at, and say "must be nice, having supermodels fall into your lap!" You were mine, once, long before you were hers. I love loved you.

I did something stupid, last night. Remember Kenji, from high school? The one you always hated? I can't even explain it, how furious I was, when I saw you with that model. You looked so happy, like it didn't matter that all your joy and abundance didn't come at my expense.

I ended up sleeping with him for the first time, with anyone for the first time really. I'm not going to write more; it's embarrassing, and it wasn't even good, but I think I'm more upset with myself. It doesn't matter.

It's not like you'll ever find out. Even if you do, it's not like you'll care.

It's not like my love mattered to you to begin with.

Suguru's chest feels as though someone has washed his heart in acid. On paper, the person you were after they left was more jaded. Less optimistic. You no longer spoke of things you wished they were able to experience with you, but rather all the things they'd left behind. You thought they didn't care, and as he forces his useless lungs to take another breath, he knows that he can't leave this town until he convinces you to come with him. As he stumbles down from the attic, dress in hand, your mother gives him a knowing stare.

"Did you find the dress I asked you to grab?"

"Yes ma'am," Suguru says numbly. It's all he says. It's all he can say. Your mother sighs, patting the chair next to her. "Why don't you call Satoru over, hm? Try some of the tea I bought. I remember your mother saying you only drink black. You really should call her more."

Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?

"I'm home!" you call out, slipping your shoes off with one hand as you balance the full bag of groceries in the other. "Did you take your medi-"

The carrots drop to the floor as you take in the sight of Gojo and Geto sitting at your kitchen table with your mother of all people. "What the fuck?"

Geto's eyes are rimmed red, like he'd been crying, while Satoru stares at you with a hint of anguish. "What the fuck," you repeat again, dumbfounded. "Why are you in my house right now?"

Geto opens his mouth to speak, but your mother waves it away. "You know how bad my back's been lately, I really wanted to wear that old emerald dress your father got me, do you remember?"

Stunned, you can only nod.

"And, I didn't want to have you come all the way back from the city just to grab a dress for me, so I called over Suguru and Satoru to help me out," your mother finishes. You can't stop the panic from leaking into your voice.

"Where was the dress?"

From the look on their faces, you know that Geto and Gojo have found it. All the letters you were too weak to send, too weak to throw away. How much did they read?

"The attic, dear," is your mother's quiet response, and when you turn her attention to her, you can see the quiet love and encouragement in her eyes.

What's more important? The love for all the things they did do, or all the things they didn't?

White noises rushes into your head, and you can barely process your mother's departure. Something about Bingo Night? The door clicks shut and you're left with silence so profound that your body almost instinctively crumples in on itself. Suguru can't look you in the eyes, absentmindedly tracing the rim of the delicate porcelain teacup that looks comically small next to his calloused hands. Satoru merely watches, but you can see the tension in his neck, in the way his fingers flex around empty air.

So, you do the only thing you can do. You run.

Turning, you all but sprint up the stairs. You lied. You couldn't do this, couldn't face them, see them, hear them-

Toned arms reach around from behind, pulling you decisively to a well-defined chest. The air is forced out of your lungs as you yelp, squirming out of the hold, only to freeze as Satoru places his cheek on your head, nuzzling into your hair.

"I missed you."

Tears spring to your eyes but Satoru keeps going. "You were the only thing that kept us going. Our apartment was so shitty, we had to put cardboard on the floor just to keep warm. I thought of you all the time. I thought of which stage outfit you'd like better, how you would get along so well with the other members of the group. We didn't forget you. We love you too much for that."

"Stop," you choke out, as your legs crumple under you. Satoru catches you, tugging you further into him, as tears trickle down your face. A blurred shape; Suguru, kneeling in front of you, gently taking your hands in his.

"One chance, princess," he breathes. "Give us one chance to explain ourselves. After that, we'll do whatever you want, give you whatever you want. We've only ever been yours."