#oh holy shit that's longer than I thought

[silverselfshippingchaos]

ugghhh wintertime sucks!! I'm sad and tired and sad all the time.. I need a nap.. and f/o cuddles.. and another nap..

[exopelagic]

my players don’t know it yet but the adventure we’re doing rn is me being silly goofy bc they hadn’t made their characters in time for me to plan around them. now that I Know Things the game can really start

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Cherry Boy. [l.c.]

Chapter One of "Losing it". Reminder that each chapter in this series is stand alone and can be read without reading any of the others!

A new relationship is always difficult to navigate, for Chan, it appears to be even more difficult. For you? You’re just left confused as to why your new boyfriend of a month and a half hasn’t made a move on you despite your very obvious attempts to invite him into your personal space.  You soon realize that your boyfriend is a virgin, and that’s why he’s always running away with his hands covering his bits, even through a simple goodnight kiss. 

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | reblog for chan's happy trail

WORDCOUNT― 10k

PAIRING― lee chan x afab reader 

CONTENT― brief break up due to horrible communication skills, virginity loss, reader gets super insecure about her body and personality, fluff, smut obv

NOTE― This is the reason I gave chan the first chapter in the series. It's because of those pics...you know the ones. Anyway, shoutout to @ressonancee and @onlyhuis for proof reading this for me! love u guys with my entire being!

smut tags under cut:: 

SMUT TAGS― virginity loss, makeout session, neck kissing, tit fondling, unprotected sex, belly button kissing, mentions and focus on his happy trail, he’s ticklish oops, blowjob, premature ejaculation, pussy drunk chan forgets how to speak, desperate sex babbling, finger fucking, hand and cock guiding, cream pie 

~

Chan has a dilemma, and yes, it’s one that most men would scoff at. 

Trust him when he says that he is so very aware of what is happening around him but he simply cannot manage to muster up the courage, strength, or confidence to admit to you, his lovely and patient girlfriend, that he’s dodging your advances solely because he is the text-book definition of virgin. 

He is not only nervous about having sex for the first time, but there also comes the weight of him either not being good enough when he tries, or you laughing in his face and mocking him for it.

You, on the other hand, wouldn’t be so fucking in your head if he really could just muster up a tiny amount of confidence to say that to you. 

It has been almost two months now since he asked you to be his girlfriend, and throughout this time never once has he done more than a gentle kiss to your lips or lying a slight guiding hand to your waist. It feels so… juvenile, so… middle school for a boyfriend to treat you this way. 

Seeing as how the first three dates you went on with him seemed to suggest he was more than willing to be a fulfilling boyfriend who can, hopefully, fill all of the roles that comes with the title– you’re starting to second guess that he ever liked you at all.

Perhaps the twenty-four year old man asked you that night to be his girlfriend out of pity. Or maybe he’s simply changed his mind about you. Regardless of the reason for why he acts like this, it’s getting to you.

Deeply, actually, by this point. It only stung a bit at first, but now it’s starting to feel like he has to be with you as a joke. Why else would he be consistent in wanting to hang out? Why else would he always be inviting you out on well-priced dates and buying you pretty gifts? 

It’s a joke. 

It has to be a joke. 

Oh, but that’s so far from the truth. If you would simply open your eyes, perhaps you’d notice the struggle that your polite little boyfriend goes through each time you try to suggest he make an advance on you. 

Even the slight kisses, it makes him suffer from embarrassment at how quickly his body reacts to you. 

He likes you so, so fucking much.

~

“I don’t think I’m feeling it today.” You respond to the muffled voice of your “boyfriend” on the phone, asking if he can come over to see you. 

“What? Why not?” He asks back, his voice concerned. 

“Do you want me to be honest?” You finally say with a long and annoyed sigh, giving up on any hope that this relationship will ever go any further than it already has. 

You’re fed up with feeling unwanted, undesired, and possibly even uninteresting. He’s the one person in your life that you care about when it comes to who you are and what you look like. His reaction, or lack thereof, regarding you as both a person and his girlfriend feels astonishing and does nothing more than make you question what it is that you’re doing wrong. 

It has to be you, right? Perhaps your body isn’t as pretty as he wants it to be, is that it? Or maybe your voice annoys him? God, what if he cringes thinking of how you’d move if he were to actually have sex with you? What if he doesn’t think about it at all? 

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to let the intense insecurity weigh on you. You always promised yourself that you’d never let a man make you rethink your worth. 

You need to live up to that promise. 

“Chan, it’s been nice and all, but I think we should break up.” 

The silence he offers to you is entirely too loud, and feels more like a confirmation in your head that this is the exact choice you should be making right now. 

He’s thrown for a loop though, standing at his kitchen table staring off at the wall as you say those words. 

What did he do wrong? 

“Wha–” He cuts himself off, trying to find words to say. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?” 

You let out another breathy sigh, annoyed at the way he plays dumb. 

“I’m shocked you’re asking me that. I’ve been wondering if you were ever going to break up with me yourself, y’know?” You let out a sad little chuckle before you feel that insecurity he instilled in you burn against your eyes. “I’m just making it easy for you, so that you can go and spend your time with someone that you’d rather be around.”

He pauses, still dumbfounded by what you’re saying. 

“Why are you saying that?” He bellows out in a deeper tone, making you feel as though he’s angry with you now. “I’d rather be around you.” 

“Oh? Is that right?” You roll your eyes now, annoyed. “Is that why you push me away when I try to kiss you? Or what about– what about when you left the party last week after I sat on your lap?” 

Ah. He knew it. He knew he should have admitted it. Despite his consistent apologies for his body acting on instinct to run away from you, he should have really tried to see from your point of view rather than his own. Even if he only ran to hide the fact that he is horribly aroused by you at all times, in every given moment. 

You can hear a pained groan fall from his lips, and a door opening on his end. 

“I’m coming over.” 

He doesn’t let you protest, and instead hangs up the phone. You sit there in silence at his rejection of your break up. As if it were his choice? As if he had any say in it? You want to break up, that’s final. 

Still, that doesn’t explain why you don’t call him back to tell him not to come. It also doesn’t explain why your heart is thumping against your chest in anticipation.

Or, maybe there is something to explain why you’re feeling butterflies over his blatant refusal. Perhaps, this is the first time you’ve felt wanted by him? 

That also makes it worse. Why should your boyfriend make you feel this way only when you’re breaking up with him? Why can you only see that he cares when he’s faced with the idea of losing you? By the way he’s acting, you can argue that he wouldn’t be losing anything precious to him if you were to walk out of his life right this moment. 

Still, you sit here in wait. More curious now to see if maybe you'll figure out why he refuses to look at or touch you in a way that would show you he wants you.

~

The first thing Chan does when he steps through the door of your apartment is slip his shoes off. The second thing he does is stand there awkwardly, as if every thought left his head upon seeing your face.

You look like you’ve been crying. 

“This is my fault.” He says with a slight crack in his voice. “Because I keep hiding from you….right?”

You nod silently, remaining on your couch that faces his timid and stiffened figure. 

He stares at you, examining the consequences of his own actions. 

“You want to break up because I haven’t tried to, like, do things with you.” He winces as he says it, struggling to not feel awkward talking about having sex. He’s embarrassed, but would be even more embarrassed if he lost a girlfriend over this. 

“That’s not the only reason.” You shake your head, looking away from him and to your hands as you pick at your nail beds. “I’d be okay with no sex if you’d simply tell me why. The fact that you haven’t told me anything–” Your voice cracks a little bit, feeling stupid for being so emotional over such a short lived relationship. “It kind of destroyed my confidence.”

He watches the way you refuse eye contact, which is something that stabs him directly in the stomach. He can feel it drop to the floor, adrenaline making its way into that empty space you’re creating for him. 

“Before we break up, I just want to know why it took this for you to act like you genuinely might have feelings for me.” 

He stumbles over his thoughts the same way he stumbles over his feet trying to approach you. 

By now, he doesn’t think he can ever feel more embarrassed than he does at this moment. He crouches down in front of you, sad that you didn’t laugh at the way he nearly knocked himself out on your living room floor. Then he looks at you, chasing your line of sight as if to reassure you through nothing but the air in the room.

“I was afraid you’d laugh at me.” He starts, and after seeing that your expression doesn’t change even a little bit, he continues. “You seemed so into me that I–” He takes a deep breath, willing himself to be as honest as he can be. “I just didn’t know how to act.” 

You look at him with irritation at those words. 

“Of course I was fucking into you. Why else would I have agreed to be your girlfriend?” You roll your eyes, pushing yourself back into the couch cushions and away from his crouched body. “Think about how I feel. The fact that you just watch me throw myself at you time and time again? The fact that you rejected me every single time? How is that not giving you the answers you need as to why I’m breaking up with you?”

He takes note of that heightened voice of yours, defensive and likely more hurt than you’re letting on. 

“Listen–” He breathes in, trying to internally hype himself up to bite the bullet. 

You were listening, but he’s keeping whatever it is he’s thinking about in his head for just a second too long. 

“No, I think we’re done h-” 

“I’m a virgin.” He interrupts you, lowering his gaze to the floor and refusing eye contact with you. 

Your eyes shoot to him though. The last thing you would have expected was for him to be a–

“You’re–” You try to repeat his words for confirmation, but he interrupts you again. 

“I can promise you it’s not because I don’t want to do these things with you.” He says, still staring at the floor. “It’s because I was afraid that you’d lose interest over it.” 

Your mouth falls open as you look at him, every feeling of frustration in your body disappearing almost immediately. 

“It’s because I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to, like, be any good at it.” He continues to admit. “I was trying to work up the courage to tell you, or to just like, do it.” He rambles, now scooting back and standing up to his feet. “And if you still want to break up, I understand. I just thought I at least owed you an explanation.” 

You watch as he nods to himself in an unsure way, turns on his heel, and heads back to the door to slip his shoes back on. 

You sit in stunned silence as your brain erases every single insecurity you gained over this month and a half relationship before jumping to your feet. If anyone could have been more insecure about this than you were, it was him. And now that you can see that, the guilt hits you twice as hard as the presumed break up would have. 

“You’re a virgin?” You ask, though that wasn’t at all the words you intended to say. “I mean, you kept pushing me away because you didn’t want to disappoint me?”

He nods timidly, halting his body and still refusing to look at you. 

He has one shoe on, and his other foot half in the other when you make your way over to him, closing the distance quickly and confidently.

“Don’t leave.” You say first, before physically moving his body for him to remove that foot from his half-on shoe. “Chan, I’m your girlfriend. We can wait for as long as you need, I just...”

You pause, now feeling annoyed with yourself for making it about you. Then again, it’s not like you could read his mind. Though, thinking back to all of those instances where he pulled away from you before, perhaps you could have read context clues a little better. 

“I didn’t know–” You trail off, now determined to save the relationship that both of you accidentally started to sink. “Did I make you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

He feels…relieved by your words. Saying you could wait, asking what it is that made him so afraid to admit it. 

Finally, he presses one foot against his other, pulling his foot out of his shoe and stepping back, looking at you with eyes fonder than you’ve ever seen them.

“It’s not that I felt I couldn’t tell you. I was just embarrassed.”

You very nearly coo out at him, but you keep your distance with both your words and your body now. 

“It’s not that I’m not ready to lose it. Especially with you.” He admits, glancing at you for a reaction before sighing. “I think I’ve been ready for a long time, again, I was just embarrassed and also knew that I should probably tell you at some point…”

“You want to give your virginity to me?”

You watch as he blows his hair up through puckered lips, rolling his eyes before smiling at you.

“It’s not that I view virginity as sacred or anything either. There’s just a lot of weight that people tend to put on it, and I wasn’t sure how you’d react.” He tries to explain as his body relaxes by the minute. “I wanted you to be my first time, yeah. When I asked you to be my girlfriend, I knew I wanted you to be the one to show me what all the hype is about.”

You’d laugh if it weren’t for the fact that this is still kind of a touchy subject. You’re not entirely sure how you feel about being someone’s first time, but you know you have feelings for him and to deny him of sex after you blatantly wanted it so bad from him…Okay, maybe you’re just in your head. Of course you’d be happy to be his first time. 

Ecstatic even. 

“So….” You sway on your feet, looking up at the ceiling before landing your eyes on him playfully. “It’s not because you think I’m disgusting or like, not living up to the standards you want for a girlfriend?”

“Jesus, no.” He says. 

You watch him scratch the back of his head, still probably embarrassed by how low this relationship had fallen due to the awful communication skills. 

“And you’re also kind of admitting that you have thought about it?” You continue, prying out the words you’ve wanted to hear so badly since you met him. 

He pulls back only a little bit, his cheeks warming at the words and the way his brain automatically thrusts him into the thoughts of all of those nights where he absolutely fucking thought about it. 

“Y-yeah. Yes. I have thought about it.” He nods in a self-reassuring way as his eyes land on everything in the room but you. 

You’re quick to give him your own reassurance though, trying to learn his boundary now that the secret is out and the relationship appears to have a second chance at succeeding. 

He can feel you close in on him, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling your face against his neck. There, he holds you back, breathing in deep and feeling the scent of you wash through his body. 

Quite literally actually. As he would normally avoid, his lower half reacts far too quickly to even the simplest of touches from you. 

He pulls back on instinct, but you don’t release your grip this time. 

“You seem as ready as ever, I’ll admit.” You laugh upon feeling him stiffen against you, but you really do try not to shame him for it. “Still, we can wait until you feel ready enough to give it a shot, okay?”

He nods, entirely reassured by the way you don’t press up against it or comment any further about the happenings in his pants right now. Then he sighs out. 

“I can imagine I must look like an idiot right now, getting hard over a fucking hug.” He finally says as he pulls from the hug and makes his way back to your living room. “But we’re okay, right? You’re not breaking up with me?”

You follow after him, keeping your sexual distance, but absolutely indulging in the loving, sweet, and careful cuddling you’ve wanted to do with him for so long now. 

He appears comfortable when you tuck yourself under his arm and rest your head on his chest before answering him.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” You say, feeling his chest heave with each breath and intentionally ignoring the blatant tent in his pants slowly fall back into its flaccid position as he calms down. “It’s kinda cute, you know? That you were so worried about it.” 

His cheeks are still on fire, willing his body to calm itself through this sweet session of cuddling. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment with you, and still, it is embarrassing in the way he knows you’re ignoring it for his sake too.

But goddamn, how heavenly it would be for you to like, touch it right now…..or something. 

“Never thought of it as cute, if I’m being honest.” He tries to joke. “If anything, maybe it's a little pathetic on my part.”

You shake your head against him, feeling more confident of your place in his life. 

“Pathetic? Don’t be mean to yourself. Besides, it’s kind of hot knowing that you got so turned on over a simple hug.” You laugh, hoping you’re not crossing a boundary. “No wonder you ran so fast when I sat on your lap, I definitely would have felt that on me.”

“Alright, alright–” He tries to hush you of your playful remarks, but ultimately, if you really think it’s an attractive aspect of whatever sexual dynamic the two of you will come to have, he’s going to make damn sure you see just how fucking turned on you make him. 

~

Things are good. Great even, now that you can pin point each moment your boyfriend gets a little too overwhelmed with you. He does still push you away, probably out of instinct but he doesn’t shy away nearly as much from intimate moments with you. Especially if the two of you are alone together. 

You’re a bit more careful in public or with friends though, because the last thing you want to do is make him feel insecure about it. Still, there are playful moments where you indulge in the act of touching him or kissing him just to get him excited, just to watch him stutter his way through ordering something. 

The point is, you almost ended a relationship with someone who, arguably, makes you feel more wanted than you ever knew you could. It’s nice, and it feels good. 

Even now, this is only your second full on make-out session with him, you feel absolutely adored. It’s cute in the way he’s trying to train himself to not get hard at even the simplest of touches, it’s even cuter when his efforts fail miserably and he’s arching his body away from you as if he could even hide what he’s packing. 

You don’t push for more, despite wanting it badly. He also doesn’t push…despite also wanting it just as much as you do, if not more. He still seems to need a push of confidence to actually go any further than a nice, non-body touching makeout session. 

This is fine though, and you indulge far more than you ever knew you would when it comes to this kind of thing. As if simply licking into his mouth is foreplay enough to counter a fucking blowjob for him. 

Never in your life did you think you’d be this into the fact that your boyfriend is a virgin. And it’s not even that he’s never had sex, it’s that he seems to want it so bad, and there’s just something about a man who is desperate that gets you going these days. 

Still, kissing him is something that fulfills you, especially with the way he’s avoiding his lower half and keeping it away from you. 

He kisses you back in a telling way though, more telling than that tent in his sweatpants that you can visualize even while your eyes are closed. He radiates the arousal through the way he moves his lips against yours, and the way he lets out little suffering sounds when you kiss him harder and harder. 

His hands stay against your face, neck, and sometimes your waist, but god. His kissing is genuinely just so good with the way it tells on him every few seconds. 

And when he pulls back, he’s out of breath, flushed, and looking as if he would want nothing more than for you to hint, to lay down some sort of implication that he can cling to for relief from the heaviness that’s been in his pants since the fucking relationship started.

You wonder if tonight is the night, because he doesn’t appear to want to stop making out like he did last time. If anything, as he looks at you with those heaving breaths, you can tell he’s thinking harder than he ever has about it. 

“Chan,” You whisper out to him, just inches from his face. “Do you think of me?”

When he keeps his eyes on you, seemingly stunned by your question, you continue. 

“Do you think of me after you leave? When you’re all by yourself in your room–” You turn your head so that your eyes can trail to the space he is attempting to keep from you. “When you’re touching yourself?” 

He feels the words run straight through him, causing an utterly pathetic twitch in his pants. The way your voice comes out soft and sensual as you ask him, as you look at him. He doesn’t even remember words at this moment, not even a simple “yes”. 

He tries to answer by losing a little bit of his self control, turning your head back to him with his palm just so he can chase against your lips out of the sheer arousal, but you pull away. 

“Do you?” You continue, encouraging him to answer you. 

“So much,” He wills himself to whisper confidently, ignoring the fact that his body just forced him to rut up and against nothing, all for you to see. “Every time I leave,” He puts emphasis on his words. “Sometimes I can’t even make it home first.” 

You smile at the image of him rubbing against himself in his car, so desperate to relieve himself of what you do to him each time he comes to see you. Not even making it out of the seatbelt before releasing all over himself, all in his pants. Shaking, panting, all alone and without you. 

“Cute,” You chuckle, finally turning your head slightly and landing a pop kiss on him. “I think of you when I do it too, every time you leave.” 

He looks at you, willing his hips to stay put as he thinks about the image of you doing that in this very room, to images and thoughts of him. 

“You do?” He asks for reassurance easily.

“Mhm,” You look away from him as you sit straight up and then scoot down the bed. There, you lay yourself down against your pillows and look at him. “Come here.” 

He’s reluctant to take your hand. But even he can admit that this side by side makeout session is starting to hurt his neck, and you’re clearly asking him to get on top of you right now. 

“You don’t have to but, Chan–” You say, looking down, “I don’t want you to leave this time.” 

Well, shit, all you had to do was say that. Honestly, the way you look at him with pure acceptance is enough to push him past the wall in his head that keeps him from finally trying to take the next step. You accept him as he is now, surely you’d accept him if he…. doesn’t last, right? What about if he isn’t good at it? 

Still, he finds himself planting one hand on the other side of your head to balance himself on top of you. Still just hovering, not yet wanting or willing to, you know, put it against you. 

You smile. 

“It’s okay, I can tell you’re nervous. We don’t have to do anything else, I’m happy with just this.”

And then you both fall back into another, much more comfortable and natural feeling, makeout session. 

As much as you’d love for him to try and take control, his reluctance allows you to contain yourself. It allows you to respect him and his decision of whether or not he wants to do anything more than this. Still, this satisfies you. And if he really does stay, maybe he wouldn’t be entirely against watching you take care of your own arousal for him. Maybe he’d feel better watching even, taking notes on what you like, learning where to touch you. 

And you know, that really would have been okay but you can’t help but feel like he’s definitely wanting more. With the way his lips grow hungrier rather than more tired, with the way he’s starting to moan shamelessly into your mouth, with the way his hands are trying to travel to more intimate places on your body before stopping himself. 

You might be pushing it with the assumption, but it doesn’t hurt to try and help him, right?

When you feel his hands moving to your waist, up, up, and up until they’re just barely brushing against the underside of your breast, he pulls back again and pulls your shirt down to cover the exposed skin, all while kissing you harder.

You place your hand over his, wasting not even a second as you guide him back under your shirt, right up to where you know he wants to touch. 

And holy fuck does he. He doesn’t even pull back when you lay it against the warm and exposed flesh from under your shirt. His hand immediately starts groping. His lips immediately stutter against you in a relieved sigh from him, and all you can do is kiss him now with the same energy he seems to have in that one single hand. 

“You’re allowed to touch me, but if you need help doing it, just tell me–” You pull back to whisper, trying to take it another step further in the act of kissing against his jaw and down his neck. “I want to touch you too, but I’ll keep my hands to myself unless you tell me otherwise.”

It’s like he really forgets how to talk or give proper consent when his entire body is acting like a fucking greenlight for you right now. He feels so pathetic, on the verge of orgasm with nothing more than the soft fabric of his sweatpants to relieve him, and yet your breast in his hand, nipple hardening under his palm before he musters the courage to put it between his fingers, it’s a lot to take in, okay?

Still, he tries to say something, and he’s even more embarrassed by the way his voice sounds like it isn’t even his own. He sounds broken when the sound reaches his ears. 

“Don’t–” He starts, cutting himself off at the feeling of your lips kissing against the pulse point of his neck. 

“Hm?” You ask, pulling back and away, hoping you didn’t press too much. 

“Don’t stop.” He mutters out again, a little less embarrassed now that he feels you sigh against that same pulse point with the way his fingers fondle your nipple mindlessly. “Don’t keep your hands to yourself.”

Your brain falls into a stunned silence at his words, bringing a type of nervousness to bubble up in your own body. Is this really it? Is this when it’s going to happen? On a saturday night, against your pillows, muffled cartoons playing in the background…..past ten in the evening? 

You can’t help it as you kiss against his neck. You really can’t, with the way he opens himself up to be vulnerable with you while actively being on top of you, while playing with your breasts, while containing himself.

He seems to need you to do the pushing, but you really cannot shake the nervousness of being his first. You’re almost certain he is nervous about so many things, but still he appears to be eager to try. He’s eager to be with you, and, ultimately, to know what it feels like to be with another person that matters to him in that way. 

“Is there–” You stop, breath caught in your throat, only to fall out against his throat when he finally seems to have the confidence to make his first move. One that would seem so small to anyone else, but he– he raises a hand and holds the back of your neck, trying to press your lips and guide them to the area of his neck that he wants you to kiss. 

And you do, with blatant encouragement to him for doing that, all while trying to finish your previous thought. 

“Is there anything you want me to do for you?” You ask, kissing and now, licking against the spot on his neck that makes him shiver. 

He sighs in a shudder, craning his neck to expose more skin for you before his hand stills against your nipple and he pulls his hand from your shirt. 

“All of it?” He starts, a bit unsure of himself. “Everything?” He adds, pulling himself back from your lips and watching you fall back to your pillows. He leans his body up, relieving his legs from his weight and sitting on his heels in front of you, only slightly between your legs now. 

You can see that he has a bit more confidence with the way he’s looking at you. 

“I want to try all of it.” He continues, placing two hands on your knees, pushing your legs together and using his palms to make them sway left and right. It’s as if he’s thinking hard. “I mean, if you want to.”

You smile. 

You want nothing more than to do this with him, for him, and for yourself. 

“Yeah?” You ask for confirmation, now lifting yourself and re-positioning yourself onto your knees to mimic his own stance. 

He nods in a blatant and shy way, knowing that you can physically see how badly he wants this, and how badly he wants you to be the one to do this with him. He’s achingly hard, and he isn’t sure if he’s ever managed to get this fucking hard in his entire life.

It really is painfully arousing, with the way his pants stretch against the head when he’s sitting like this. The way the fabric offers little to no sensation but while looking at you, he feels all fucked up and warm. He tries to forget that there’s precum all over him, seeping through the pants that are presented before you, and god, the way you look right at it. 

He doesn’t shy away despite being as shy as he could possibly be right now. In fact, when your eyes trail back up to him, licking your lips before smiling, he a fucking goner. He knew he wanted you bad, but never did he know he needed you this badly. 

He’s so fucking lucky. 

“It looks… big.” You comment, leaning forward only slightly and sizing your boyfriend up. “But for your sake, I’ll try to control myself from moving too fast. I’ll go slow, okay?”

He doesn’t even nod, he’s too entranced with you in front of him, fully clothed, lifting his own shirt off of him as if he is incapable of doing it himself. Then again, he kind of is incapable at this moment. He swears his IQ must’ve dropped to a single digit by this point. 

And when that shirt comes up and over his head, you note that he doesn’t even blink. That small moment where his face was obscured as you pulled it off of him? His eyes stayed on you both before and after, only now– his hair is a total fucking mess and all you can do is feel endeared by it. 

“God, you’re so fucking attractive,” You groan in sexual frustration with an eyeroll. “I can’t believe someone hasn’t jumped your bones yet.”

Now he breaks eye contact at the praise, glancing away from you and trying his hardest not to smile like an idiot at those words. 

“To be fair, I’ve fucked up my fair share of relationships being embarrassed.” He laughs. “Kinda glad I did though.”

You land your eyes back on him, staring blankly at his naked chest and trying your damnedest not to look at him like he’s some piece of meat. But goddamn, the body of this man. 

“Come here, switch places with me.” You smile, reaching forward and trying not to think too hard about the way his arms flex when you grip them to move him. “Here, lay back.” 

And within seconds, you’re between his legs and looking down at his half-lidded, arousal driven eyes. 

“Fuck, really?” You groan again, glancing away. “It’s really taking everything in me, Chan, it really is.”

His heart is doing flips as he stares up at you. He feels doted on, adored, attractive. So he encourages more of those annoyed praises from you. 

“Taking everything in you to…?” 

You chuckle, because the audacity of this drunk and in love fool. 

“Do you have any idea how badly I’ve wanted to be in this exact position?” You smile, reaching down to run your fingers down his chest and straight to that happy trail that he so readily hid from you. “It’s taking everything in me to slow down–”

“Then don’t.” He says proudly, albeit still a bit shy at your words. 

You can see how red his ears are, only partially hidden by that head of messy ass hair. His stupid pretty eyes and gentle smile are directed straight at you without any type of reluctance. 

“There’s my confident boyfriend.” You chuckle, toying with the hair beneath his belly button and trying to not comment on the way his body jumps a bit at the feeling. “Was wondering where he went after he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

And he remains silent after that, watching the way you take the reins and lean down to kiss against that same spot of his neck. Warm breath fanning over the skin before attaching yourself there. 

Surely you can feel the way his hips react, humping up at each flutter of your lips. If you couldn’t, he knows for a fact that you’ll be able to now. With the way you trail down, across his own sensitive nipples, and then down, down, down. 

He glances down at you at the same time when you glance up at him and right then and there he thinks he melts. He’s never seen a woman look at him from this angle, and it’s only a little bit detrimental to his heavy and pathetic cock. The twitching never stops, he feels so fucking sticky in his pants and it really just doesn’t stop. Continuous leaking, and he really had no idea that there could even be this much pre-cum. 

Then, he’s pulled out of his thoughts with….a tickle?

“Oh?” You smile, leaning down to repeat that lick up his happy trail before landing a kiss straight on his belly button. 

His body jumps again, and he lets out a moaned chucked unintentionally. 

“Oh.” You smile wider, gripping both of his hips with your hands and holding him down in a playful way. Repeating the act once again. 

Your suspicions are confirmed with a third jump of his body, and another chuckled, frustrated moan. 

“So, he’s ticklish too?” You say with another kiss against his belly button before fluttering your fingers at the side of his hips. 

His entire body goes rigid before melting against the bed in an attempt to not react to the way you take advantage of a hidden weakness he had. God, he should have known that…like, sex stuff could be ticklish. 

“No– I’m not.” He lies, jolting again when you continue to test the resilience he thinks he has against your lips and fingers. “Hey–!”

And, well, you would’ve stopped if it weren’t for the fact that his hips raise with each tickled sensation, and you can genuinely feel how damp and heavy he is in his pants. It’s entirely arousing in the way its weight is obvious through his attempts to wiggle from your ticklish touches. 

“Alright,” You finally relent, landing one final kiss to his belly before licking down that same line of hair he offers his body. “Chan, I want to–”

His hips immediately raise to your words, the wetness from your tongue feels like ice against his skin when the air hits it and at this point, he thinks he knows what you’re suggesting. 

“Please–” He nearly cries out in a stutter. “Touch it.”

You smile as you nuzzle your nose against his abdomen before giving him a short nod that you know he doesn’t see. Considering, well, he just threw his arm over his face and keeps his hips tensed, and his ass only slightly lifted off of the bed. 

Desperate. Willing. 

You prepare yourself for seeing it for the first time by not seeing it at all just yet. Instead, you kiss down until your lips are met with warm, damp fabric. Immediately you can feel his length twitch under your lips when you reach it, and all you can manage to do is flatten your tongue out and against it to feel it pulse again. 

And again, until that same arm thrown over his face reaches down in a desperate attempt to take the pants off for you. He’s the one losing his self control now, no embarrassment or nervousness in sight from him, and it’s so fucking attractive to see him do it.

His shaking fingers fumbling with the waistband, shoving the pants down just an inch or so more to reveal more of that trimmed hair.

You don’t comment on the way he’s acting out of fear that it’ll make him feel shamed or even mocked, despite you truly believing it might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen a man do in front of you. 

Instead, you help him. Sinking your own fingers beneath his pants and tugging them down all in one go before allowing your eyes to land on it. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” He moans out, the air alone offering an overwhelming amount of sensation due to the temperature change he now feels between his legs. 

You finally look at it, so dark in color. As if all of the blood in his body resides only here. You gently move your hand just over it, feeling the heat radiate from him, seeing the precum continuously dribble from the head, and then, finally– 

“You’re so….” You trail off, in awe of the way his body just….keeps reacting. So much pre-cum. “Hard.” 

He releases a broken little sound at the feeling of your fingers finally touch him, and it feels insanely different from when he touches it himself. As if he’s not in control of his pleasure, and it’s all just you. You are the one who feels good against him. 

You’re shocked briefly when his hand makes it’s way back down to yours, grabbing it and essentially trying to get you to stimulate him more. He puts so much pressure against your hand, sandwiching it between his own palm and stiffened cock. 

You’re tuly in awe. This man has essentially edged himself to a world record, surely. 

“Slow down,” You try to soothe him, moving your hand against him and watching him retract his hand. “Relax, It must feel good, right?”

That little sob he lets out shows you his frustration. So needy, so ready. And even with you moving your fingers to circle his pulsing length, his hips continuously fuck up, not allowing him to have even a moment without a forceful amount of stimulation. 

“So good,” He moans, entire brain focused on what your hand is doing and unable to open his eyes. “I want it so bad.”

You don’t think he hears you chuckle and you’re thankful he doesn’t. You can imagine he would genuinely be embarrassed to know you’re witnessing his pure blissed-out and aroused-state of mind right now. 

And it’s not shocking that he’s entirely focused on himself at this moment, because he’s the one experiencing this for the first time. Even if you find it hard to believe that another woman has never touched his dick, you’re entirely flattered that it very well may be the case and that he wanted you to be the one to make him feel this good. 

“I’ll give it to you, just relax. I’m not going to stop.” You reassure his needy movements, and the way his body squirms at the slightest of touches. “What feels good?”

God, he’s so frustrated. 

“All of it.” He groans shortly, trying to take in a deep breath and just relax like you asked him too. 

You nod to his closed eyes and slacked mouth, fighting against his hips to be the one to pleasure him rather than himself and only when you blow a gentle breath against the head of his cock do his hips still and he shoots his hands up to your pillows, gripping them as if he’s preparing for something. 

You watch intently at the way he’s actively fighting to move now, waiting impatiently for you to do something now. Licking his lips, chewing on his bottom lip– god, he’s so pretty up there. 

Then, you grant him a new sensation. Only because by this point you’re the one who is about to lose control. 

You stick out your tongue and lick all the way from his balls to the head of his cock, making sure to keep pressure against it so that you can taste all of the arousal he’s spilled up until now. And while you were going to pull back to examine his reaction, this is the part where you release your self control.

The taste alone was enough to have you moaning, vibrating your voice against the vein of his length and then circling your lips around the head. 

Instantly, you suck at the feeling of pre-cum still pouring out of him. This time, there seems to be more. Coating your tongue with an almost sweetened salty taste. 

You feel briefly the way his hips chase the new warmth, clearly wanting to tuck itself into your mouth and quite possibly, down your throat, but you pull back and blow once again against the head. 

His entire body shivers as you glance up at him. 

You can barely comprehend just how into you he looks right now before rolling your own eyes in arousal at the image before immediately giving him everything your mouth has to offer.

Who cares if he comes too fast? Fucking look at him. You’d be stupid not to suck the absolute life out of him! That’s your boyfriend up there, chewing on his bottom lip, eyes sparkling through hooded lids, chest heaving–

And god, you almost wish he wasn’t as big as he is because it’s difficult to keep your eyes open when you take it in. You have to focus on sliding it through your lips, against your tongue, and right up to the back of your throat where the head of his cock bumps.

He can feel the way your fingers grip his legs through it, and by this point he has gone entirely non-verbal at the feeling. 

The only sound he can make comes from deep within his chest, and he can only release those sounds with heaved out and rigid breaths. His heart is pumping faster and faster the deeper you managed to take him, and–

“Ah! W-wait!” He panics, sitting straight up and becoming fucking floored at the way you stay on him. Moving your hands to his stomach and trying to shove him back. “Fuck,” He seethes as he takes in a sharp inhale, legs shaking as he flops back against the pillows. “Fuck, i’m sorry.” He continues to murmur, feeling himself hit the wall of orgasm and practically pulverize it. 

And you, oh, you. You taste it. You feel the twitching and the way his muscles stiffen under your fingers. You can hear him muttering apologies as it spills into your mouth, down your throat, and even out of the corners of your lips. 

You try to take all of it, up until you can’t fucking breathe, and only then do you pull up and replace your mouth with your hand, watching in awe at the way he just……

It doesn’t fucking stop. 

He went from rigid to stammering his words, to now blatantly and full-on moaning through both the pleasure and frustration of losing the warmth of your mouth. 

“God, Chan….” You whisper in a raspy voice, slowing your hands and intentionally pumping it out of him by now. 

“I’m sorry–” He stammers, body still shaking as you pull the rest of it out of him. “I tried to,” He winces with another unintentional moan. “I didn’t think it would feel that good.”

You smile both proudly and fondly, watching him stumble through his words and whatever excuse he tries to come up with. 

“I don’t think you know how hot you look right now.” You finally say, in a more stern voice. “You couldn’t have stopped me if you wanted to.” 

Only now, when he’s absolutely drenched himself in his release does he open his eyes in a drowsy way. He looks at you and that little smile on your lips and decides that, yeah, he can believe you. He trusts you, and he’s entirely obsessed with you. 

“But we still haven’t–”

You cut him off quickly.

“We have all night. All day tomorrow. All week, month, year. I don’t care.” You dead-pan, reaching for his, somehow, still hard length. “Chan.” You add, gripping it and testing the actual hardness of it. “You’re still hard, which is fucking amazing by the way, and you have no idea how wet I am right now.”

Oh, my god. He forgot. 

“You– you’re turned on?” He asks, looking away from you. 

“So fucking turned on.” You confirm for him, now releasing his length to give him a bit of a rest, considering he must not realize he’s still shaking. “Look, feel.” 

You say it as you crawl up and on top of him, seating yourself right up against his abdomen and grabbing his hand. 

He just stares, watching you guide his hand straight to the seat of your shorts. 

“Oh.” He sighs out. 

“Even through my shorts. See? Feel it.” You continue to move his hand against you, trying not to rut your own hips up much like he was doing before. 

Brain malfunction. He doesn’t even have a fucking IQ at this point as his cock immediately reacts in all of it’s sensitive, pathetic glory. 

“Do you want me to, um,” He swallows around a breath he didn’t know he needed. “touch you? Can I try?”

You sigh, relieved that he’s willing and immediately push yourself off of him and take care of all of the busy-work as quickly as possible. ie: taking off your clothes.

Unfortunately, you somehow briefly forgot that the man is still a fucking virgin. You can very nearly see his mouth fall open at your nude body being revealed to him. Even more so, you can see the dribble of saliva that he doesn’t quite catch fast enough, and his cock reacts. 

“You’re so cute, god.” You praise with the same compliment you’ve been giving him all night. 

And when you seat yourself next to him, hugging one of his arms and tucking it between your legs before closing your thighs around it, you smile at him and the way he literally cannot stop staring with his mouth agape. 

“Babe, you’re drooling.” You chuckle, shifting your hips a bit to rub yourself against his knuckles, where you’re still hugging his arm. 

Only then does he slurp up his embarrassment and try to remain calm. His fogged brain comes back to him quickly upon your comments as he wills himself to sit up beside you. 

He gets to….touch you. 

And boy does he. 

Eagerly, messily, and quite frankly, kind of embarrassingly. 

You make it easier for him though, laughing as you flop back and spread your legs for him. He’s quick to simply…explore. He’s not aiming for any singular area of your pussy because to be quite honest, he’s still struggling to stop staring at the entirety of you. 

You watch his eyes, the way they stare at your tits, then your thighs, your pussy being petted by his fingertips, and then– eye contact. 

He seems so sure of himself despite still managing to barely touch the clit. It doesn’t bother you one bit, because his eager fingers still find ways to touch you beautifully. There’s so much intent behind the messy movements. 

Slipping and sliding two fingers between your lips, up your folds, and then stopping just short of your clit before sliding back down and feeling where his cock would go if he manages to make it this far. 

I mean, surely he will, right? He’s losing his virginity as he does this right now, even. Foreplay still counts, right? 

And then, after several minutes of him exploring, learning, and practically teasing you half to death, you reach down to guide him. 

“Right here,” You soothe out in a soft voice, pressing his fingers against your clit and seeing him take note of it. “And here.” You trail his fingers down until they reach your clenched hole, and you very slightly press against his fingers so that the tips just barely enter you. 

He tilts his head at you, concentrating on where you lead him before releasing his hand and essentially leaving him to his own devices now. 

And you know, he did tell you he was a quick learner, because almost immediately he’s experimenting with putting a finger into you, and using his other hand to find a rhythm to rub against your clit. 

The whole time, he checks for your reaction, noting when your breathing hitches and when your body tenses. He continues, trying to only do things that make your body react and soon, you’re already turning to mush beneath him.

His fingers circle and tap your clit at a quick pace, with the other twisted inside of you. When he slides his finger out, and then back in, he rubs your clit harder, and god, yeah. Okay. You see his effort, and it’s such a good fucking effort too.

“Feels good,” You finally moan out for him, allowing yourself to give in to the pure arousal of the entire situation taking place. Thinking hard about what it would feel like to have such a desperate cock inside of you. “Use two fingers?” 

He listens instantly, moaning along with you when he slides the other in with the next thrust. His fingers against your clit trail down shortly after, curiosity getting the best of him when he spreads your lips open to see you stretch around his fingers. 

“It’s so warm–” He comments more to himself than to you, watching the way you pulse around him, watching the way your slick seeps out of you. It’s so hot for him to see it up close like this, and his pace slows at the image before him. “Can you take more than two?”

You lift your head in amazement at how he could ask such a thing. 

“Chan.” You smile at the way he jumps in surprise at your sudden, louder voice. Fingers nearly slipping out of you. “I can take way more than just two fingers.” You glance down between his legs. “Way, way more.”

He glances down to what you’re looking at before letting out an embarrassed sob.

“You’re really going to let me?” He nearly whines in excitement. 

You nod, reaching for him and pulling him to you by his shoulders. You land a kiss against his lips, trying not to shake at the way his fingers angle different inside of you as he moves to chase your lips.

“Mhm,” You soothe against his lips, intentionally scooting your hips down to your best ability to sink his fingers into you more. “Move your fingers– it feels good like this.”

He listens, feeling you throw your arms around his neck and cling to him through it, all while moaning and groaning right up against his lips. You’re not even kissing him, you’re just….acting like this and it’s fucking great.

He thought he would be the only one to be desperate in this situation, yet here you are, clinging to him as he works his fingers in you. 

“When?” He finally asks upon noting the way you start to move your hips against his fingers. 

You peek your eyes open and pull back to look at him. 

“Now? Do you want to do it now?” 

He nods, slipping his fingers out of you and inspecting how wet they’ve become. 

“Can I?” 

You finally fall back, leaning against your elbows and spreading your legs wide in front of him. Lending him a nod, you watch the way he just freezes after the fact. 

All you can do is laugh at this moment with the way he loses any ability to remember how sex works. 

Then again, you wonder if he ever even watched porn, considering how he’s acting and couldn’t manage to find the clit. 

“Do you want me to be on top?” You question, blinking up at him and his blank expression.

He shakes his head at you, still frozen in his spot before his eyes slowly make their way down to the glistening sheen against your pussy. 

“Don’t we like, need a condom or something? I can’t promise I’ll be able to pull out.” He asks, finally glancing away. “I don’t know if I can last as long as you want me to….”

And with that, all you do is lunge forward, grab your boyfriend by the cock, and pull him to you. 

He laughs, you laugh, and then it’s silent when he leans over you, feeling his length lay against your core, already feeling spent but so, so ready to give himself to you. 

“I’m on birth control. You don’t need to pull out.” You smile evilly, wiggling your hips and watching the way he closes his eyes tightly as if to regain his composure of those words. 

“I’m seriously in love with you.” He mutters, pushing his hips forward and letting his length slide through the mess he made of you. 

You smile, feeling that by this point, your face may actually be stuck like this permanently, and lift your head to kiss against his lips once more. 

“You’re ready?” You ask quietly, against his lips. “I can help you adjust to where it needs to be. After that, I want you to do what feels best for you, okay?”

He nods timidly, taking in a deep and nervous breath before feeling your hand guide his length to the opening. 

“Go on, slide in it.” You encourage him. 

And he does. 

Slowly at first, gently, until he feels your wet hot walls envelop the head of his cock in full, clenching, pulling him in. 

His arms shake from either side of your head as he balances himself there, and it doesn’t take long for him to drop his head against your shoulder in deeper breaths than he was taking before.

The sensation is so much, it’s no wonder people like to have sex. It’s so good, you feel so, so good around him. He can’t help it when he slides in deeper, not stopping until he’s releasing a wet moan against your shoulder and holding onto you as if his life depends on it. 

He thought that once he got it all the way in, it would get easier. But it doesn’t. Even as the two of you are unmoving, with your hands in his hair and soothing him through it, you still clench him. Your pussy still stimulates it without either of you doing a damn thing.

You on the other hand, won’t admit to struggling through that one, long and languid thrust inside of you. It felt as if he was splitting you open despite how wet you already were, and still are. The heaviness, the consistent twitching, all of it stretches you out more than you even knew you’d need and god, it feels so good to have him just hold onto you like, to have him adjust to the feeling. 

He’s no longer a virgin, and that’s not even what matters right now. 

What matters is the way he continuously nuzzles his nose against you, snaking his head to your neck and moaning consistently against your ear when he manages to finally move. 

He pulls out only a little bit before his hips stutter at the sensitivity, then he pushes back in. 

In and out, in and out, until–

“Fuck.” He moans, lifting suddenly from your neck, sitting up, staring directly  at where his cock sits inside of you, and he just… lets go.

Knuckles white against the grip of your waist, he powers through the sensitivity, he fucks through it. Fast, with no real rhythm or ability to realize just how deep he’s pushing himself into you, and then….

He’s done for. 

“That’s it,” You encourage him through half moans at the feeling, your swollen clit begging for a little bit of attention too. “Shit, Chan, that’s it.” You continue, losing yourself in his reaction to you. 

He only moves faster, his hips only stutter more, and thank fuck he already came once because he wouldn’t have made it a solid inch into you before coming undone if he hadn’t. Now though? He’s pleasantly surprised to be lasting even this long. 

Until he’s not, of course. 

And there, between your legs, he presses in as far as he can reach and loses his breath. 

Eyes rolling back, eyebrows furrowing, mouth agape, a deep moan rumbles from his chest as his shiver flows through his body at the first release inside of you.

You immediately shoot your hands to your clit, feeling it pump inside of you much like it did in your mouth. Already so much, you feel entirely full, and entirely ready if he can manage to keep coming for as long as he did before. 

You fingers assault the swollen nub so fast, working yourself up much like you would during a quick session of masturbation, not wanting him to miss out on what it feels like to have a girl come on him– 

It hits you faster than you can realize. 

Even when he buckles and falls back to your chest out of breath, you can’t even tell him that it’s happening. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t move just yet. Well, until he feels your pussy clench him tigher than before. In a rhythmic way, almost. 

Only barely can he lift his head to watch you, and that’s when he notes that you’re holding your breath. 

You pussy is pulsing, and then–

“Are you?” He questions, experimenting with the idea of trying to thrust into you as he asks. 

There’s the breath you’d been holding. 

“Yes!” You call out, both to answer his question and to appreciate that little thrust he gave you.

Even if his cock is slowly becoming flaccid, you’re still full, and he can still feel the orgasm wash over you. 

He’s silent through it, wincing at his hyper-sensitive cock and very nearly cursing it out for not having waited just a minute longer to release– then, you’re hugging him. 

Tightly. So tightly, you’re holding onto him and breathing into his hair. He can barely breathe himself with this hold you have on him. Still, he doesn’t fight it, he simply lets you. 

Letting you cling, letting the last jolting pulses of your core push the rest of him out of you. There, he manages to lift from your weakening grasp and throw himself beside you. 

Out of breath, sweating, a total mess, he looks at you like he truly will never be able to love another person the way he does right now. 

And it falls silent for a long while before you roll over, throwing both an arm and leg over him. 

“Man,” You sigh out. “How does it feel?” You ask this time, opening your eyes to playfully look at him.

“Huh? What?” He asks, quirking a brow. 

“You know, now that you’re not a virgin anymore. How does it feel?” 

He thinks hard for like two seconds before taking in a deep breath and smothering himself against the top of your head. 

“Like I’m in love with you, maybe.”

And you know, given that this relationship is barely even considered one in the eyes of most people. You don’t think you care. 

“Because I made you feel good, or because you want to let me make you feel good for like…” You pause, lifting your head to look him in the eye. “the rest of your life?”

He doesn’t even have to think twice. 

“The second reason.” 

“You’re such a simp, Chan, really.” You joke, skewing your head fondly to look at him. “But I think it’s worth a shot.”

~

Chapter two: LOSER. [wonwoo] ― coming soon!

series m.list

[actual-changeling]

i have watched the kiss scene and the breakup as a whole more times than i can count and my brain is still trying to process all the things it picked up on.

my newest painful obsession: aziraphale thought crowley came back for him.

they kiss, aziraphale says i forgive you and instead condemns them both, crowley leaves. the lip touching itself is fucking essay worthy because holy SHIT the amount of micro expressions flickering across his face is endless, michael sheen acted his ass off.

i think it's a mixture of surprise, unspoken love, a HEAVY dose of fear, disbelief, and oh my god what did he just do what did i just do. he turns away from the door and we get a very very quick shot of how exactly he is angled.

standing up straight with faked spiteful anger, the same anger he spit at crowley out of fear and insecurity, chin up, clearly waiting for something - or rather someone. we gotta remember that every single time crowley has left aziraphale, he came back. every. single. time. he came back and apologized, that's what they do.

crowley comes back and aziraphale forgives him and they continue bearing their silence.

the bell rings when the door opens again, just like it did when crowley left, and just. look at his face. how quickly he swivels around. the blink and you will miss it spark of hope.

and then the pure devastation when he realizes it's not crowley.

aziraphale thought crowley was coming back for him. he was WAITING for him to come back. even after all that, he couldn't imagine crowley actually leaving him behind, especially not after that kiss and his entire indirect love confession.

just like crowley thought for a tiny heartbeat that aziraphale was kissing him back, aziraphale hoped, hell, he fucking thought he KNEW crowley would never abandon him. not after "i could always rely on you. you could always rely on me." aziraphale has taken him for granted, of course he thought it was him coming through the door.

but that spark of hope gets stomped out beneath the metatrash's feet and he fully turns around, unable to face him and the reality of it all.

this time, he went too far.

this time, crowley did not want forgiveness.

he was about to say i love you and turned it into i forgive you, still clinging to their old ways, their old rituals, just that they are no longer those beings, no longer in that specific relationship. everything has changed.

they both thought the other would never abandon them. turns out they were both wrong.

[bbyseok]

thinking about your boyfriend gojo satoru who starts floating every time you kiss him on the lips, and you finally have your first make out session with him.

gojo satoru x gn!reader, suggestive

“baby, puh-leaseeeee!”

being gojo’s classmate-turned-friend-turned-partner, you’re pretty used to the sorcerer’s occasional pouting ‘n whining, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so desperate before.

you’re in the confines of his dorm room, seated on his bed, facing each other with your legs crossed and knees brushing against his.

it had been like any other lazy afternoon with each other, munching on snacks after the completion of another easy mission when your boyfriend had suddenly grabbed ahold of your hands with a single proposal,

“wanna make out?”

he swears up and down that nothing wonky will happen to his cursed technique once his lips are on yours, but you’re not too sure about that.

you toy with his slender fingers absentmindedly, “i don’t know, ‘toru..”

“sweetheart, you’re telling me you haven’t thought about us making out before?” he huffs and puffs like a kid who isn’t able to stick his hand in the cookie jar, but then again, that sounds just like satoru.

“what? no. i mean- i guess i have…” you try to brush off the fact that you’re getting kinda.. flustered. he’s just so damn insistent about this.

of course you’ve thought about kissing him more.. passionately. it’s just that you also have placed thought in how it might go—with you two up in the air.

a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s not one of those smug, arrogant ones he usually offers his opponents. it’s something more along the lines of mirth and affection.

“sooooooo….”

you roll your eyes. “fine.” his eyes light up and before he can cheer, you add, “but the second something goes wrong we’re stopping.”

“yeah, yeah,” he says, but it’s rushed and hurried—excited. admittedly, you are too, as he shuffles closer with a giddy grin.

his eyes are unwavering in their stare even as the corners crinkle up along with his grin, and it only serves to make you smile fondly in return.

unlike your very first kiss, gojo moves in before you—he leans forward and captures your lips with his. the two of you have never kissed for longer than a few seconds, but then he’s suddenly angling his head to deepen it and your breath is stolen.

where the hell did he learn to kiss like this?

you have no time to gather your thoughts, rather going on instinct as you feel satoru’s hand come up to cradle the side of your face, swiping his thumb over your cheek with a tenderness that makes you melt further into his touch.

gojo makes out with you like he’s been waiting for forever to do this, which might not be so far from the truth. you return his enthusiam, fingers tangling with the snowy locks at his nape.

he’s a bit sloppy with it, but you hazily think that’s a given since he’s never made out with anyone before and holy shit—you’re actually making out with him.

it’s the loud sounds of wet lips smacking against each other, all hot ‘n heavy, that make you blush and feel warm all over.

gojo hasn’t started floating yet, and you only know that because he’s leaning forward even more, crawling and invading your space until its no longer yours, and you have no choice to fall back onto the sheets.

his arms cage you in as he hovers over you now, and his lips leave yours for only a few fleeting moments before he’s kissing you fervently again.

everything is going okay (more than okay), satoru is still in control of his powers, you’re getting a lil’ breathless and—

uh oh.

gojo pulls away only by a few centimeters, lips still brushing against yours, but you can feel his panic as his eyes widen and he’s pulling even further away.

you know you said you’d stop if his powers started getting out of control but you’d be damned if this stopped now, so you grab him by the collar of his shirt and shove him back, a yelp leaving his throat when you straddle his lap.

“there,” you huff out, the edges of a smirk on your lips now that you’ve found a little solution to gojo’s floating problem. you laugh a bit breathlessly, “now you can’t float away from me.”

with his cheeks flushed a pretty pink and his sky blue eyes wide, for once satoru looks like he’s at a loss for words as he blinks up at you. he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure, “well damn, babe, if i had known you’d be this forward i would’ve done this a lot soo-”

you roll your eyes again with a slight grin. “shut up, ‘toru.”

satoru grins too, but you make good on your words by pulling him by his shirt again to effectively shut him up with your lips.

(and, well.. let’s just say something else goes up whenever you make out with him.)

[cherry-coffees]

Silk Ribbons and Captured Hearts

Caitlyn x girly girl!reader

cw: 2K words | no warnings, just Caitlyn and her lovely femme <3

-----------------

Caitlyn is infatuated with you.

Your relationship with Caitlyn is somewhere on the line between acquaintances and friends, running in the same high circles. Your family, much like the Kirammans, is respected and known within Piltover. You've met Caitlyn on many occasions: galas, banquets, other fancy events your parents had dragged you to. 

Most of your time spent together had come from conversing casually at events, or during council meetings whenever you both had been waiting for your parents to finish their work. You’re a few years younger than Caitlyn, so she had offered to help you with any work you had been doing at Piltover Academy. You were a good student as well, matching her intellect. Caitlyn, despite trying to focus on your homework, would find her gaze drawn to you. Watching your eyes light up whenever you talked about something you were interested in, a small, unconscious smile gracing your lips, had easily captivated her.

That was when you were both younger, though. Now, she can't help but take notice of the beautiful woman you had become. All short skirts and fitted tops, sundresses and carefully chosen accessories, you’re like a warm sunbeam that Caitlyn can’t draw her eyes away from. 

It all starts with Caitlyn going shopping in the main streets of Piltover, and she steps into a local boutique filled with cute clothes and handmade jewelry. It's not really her style, but her eyes catch on a stand filled with silk ribbon, and it reminds her of the ribbons you occasionally wear in your hair. And oh, you'd just look so pretty in that shade of purple and-

She leaves with three of them.

A few days later, you’re at a statue unveiling of some old general in Piltover’s army, and Caitlyn sees you again. And fuck you just look so pretty in your white maxi skirt and cropped tank that shows off just a hint of midriff, and Caitlyn can’t stop staring. She finally gets herself together, glancing down at the lavender silk ribbon in her hand. Should she give it to you now? Should she wait? What if you didn’t like it? Worse, what if you don’t like her even after figuring out she’s smitten with you?

Caitlyn immediately clams up, deciding it’s better to give it to you anonymously. She darts off to the area where everyone’s bags and coats are under the guise of finding something she had forgotten in her bag. Once there, she grabs a notepad from her own bag and writes a note:

I thought this would look lovely on you. 

Yours,

Anonymous 

After attaching it to the ribbon and quietly slipping back into the crowd, Caitlyn can’t really focus on the ceremony. She tries, she really does, but the sound of your casual laughter in conversation unwillingly draws her attention. She also tries not to eye you when you politely make conversation with Caitlyn’s own parents, but, well, she’s long since given up on that one. Maybe she’ll have better self-control in the future.

______

Any thoughts of self-control die the moment you step into the coffee shop where Caitlyn is sitting with Jayce. Because you’re just so beautiful, wearing some lavender sundress and sandals and holy shit is that-?

Caitlyn’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the silky lavender ribbon in your hair — the one she had bought for you — tied around two pigtails hold your hair half-up. She can’t tear her eyes away, even as you step up to order and smile brightly at the barista. So much so that Jayce turns around to see what she’s looking at before turning back to her with a puzzled expression. “Uh, Cait? You good?”

She snaps her jaw shut, nodding tightly. “Yeah,” she lets her eyes linger on you for a second longer. “Everything’s perfectly fine.”

Jayce glances in your direction once again before a knowing smile dawns on his face. “Oh,” he turns back to Caitlyn, eyes smug and teasing. “You like-"

“Shut up,” Caitlyn hisses, glaring deeply at him, half because she doesn’t want you to overhear this and half because she doesn’t want Jayce to have another thing to hold over her. 

Jayce just raises his eyebrows, taking a sip of tea as if waiting for her to explain.

Caitlyn just sighs, glancing down at her own pristine teacup. “I- how can I not?” She mumbles, glancing at you. “She’s, well…perfect.”

________

And because you just had to go and look so ridiculously, effortlessly, beyond gorgeous in the lavender ribbon, of course Caitlyn has to go and buy five other colors. Because who is Caitlyn if not willing to spend her seemingly endless amounts of money on the little things her love crush likes. A tiny part of her also preens at seeing you so happy to wear something she gave you, as if she’s subtly showing everyone that you’re hers. But she’d never admit to that, of course.

And every time she manages to slip you a ribbon, she leaves another tiny note.

These suit you so much, I thought it would be a shame not to have more.

I think this color will look so nice with your hair.

Please take these ribbons as my way of telling you how beautiful you are.

Your ribbon collection continues to build: baby pink, forest green, crimson red, the lightest grey that reminds you of clouds on a cozy winter morning. You smile every time you find a new one in your bag, keeping the notes safely tucked away in a small box in your closet. You read them from time to time, gently tracing a finger over the words as if you can feel the affection they convey. 

Experimentally, with all this ribbon, you don’t confine it to just your hair. You tie it around your ankle, thinking it looks cute (Caitlyn agrees, smiles way too long when she sees it on you in passing). Then, around your wrists: a pair of bows. And when you show up at her house to drop off something from your family to the Kirammans, Caitlyn’s eyes go wide when she catches sight of the ribbon carefully tied around your upper thigh — just peeking out from the short skirt you’re wearing. 

Holy fucking shit is all Caitlyn manages to register in her mind. She doesn’t pay attention to whatever you’re talking about with her mother. She just pays attention to the gift she gave you, a symbol of her, tied around your thigh. She’s highly tempted to step forward and grab the end of it, untying it just to replace it with her hand and squeeze-

Pull yourself together.

And she does, barely. Manages to mumble out a few weak words as you depart, missing the smug smile that graces your features as you turn to leave. Misses the way you turn a little faster than necessary so your skirt spins and she gets another view of the ribbon wrapped around your thigh. You leave, Cassandra goes on with her business, and all is normal again.

You’re a strong presence in Caitlyn’s dreams that night.

______

And then one day, there’s a knock on Caitlyn’s office door, and she calls an official-sounding “come in” only for you to enter. Caitlyn stands up a little too quickly, clearing her throat and straightening her uniform. She moves out from behind her desk to face you. “This is- uh- a surprise,” Caitlyn murmurs, eyes flitting to the navy blue ribbon laced through your high ponytail, your hair half up. She’s sure she hasn’t bought you a navy ribbon yet.

“My father sent me to ask if the gala for your mother’s birthday next week will still be in your ballroom?” You ask, shifting nervously. It’s a simple question, one that you don’t really need an answer to.

Luckily, Caitlyn is too distracted to notice. She just blinks, forcing her mouth to move. “Um, right. Yes, it’s going to be held there.”

You nod, your eyes locked with her piercing blue ones. “Okay. Yeah. Sorry for the interruption, I just happened to be nearby and he, uh, wanted to know.”

Even still, Caitlyn only half registers your weak excuse. Her eyes narrow at the ribbon. It’s different than the silky ones she’s bought you: thinner and less shiny. So, instead of formulating one of her usual, sensible responses to you, she can’t help but let her curiosity spill out. “Your ribbon.”

“My-" you touch your hair lightly. “My ribbon?”

“Where is it from?” She asks, flatly. For the past weeks, the only ribbon you've been wearing has been the ones she's been giving you. Was this an old one of yours? Did you buy it recently? Or is it from someone else? Something in her chest tightens at the last idea.

She’s not prepared for the smile you flash her. “Well” you sigh, tilting your head a little as if the answer is obvious. “I thought that since my anonymous gifter keeps buying me ribbon, I should have one in her color.”

…

Wait.

It takes a second of blank staring before Caitlyn’s jaw drops. “You-" she stumbles in her wording — an extremely rare occasion she’s been taught to avoid. But all her composure is lost with you.

“Me,” your smile holds a hint of satisfaction that Caitlyn kind of just wants to scream at. Or kiss off your face. Either one.

“You knew?!” Her tone is incredulous, like she’s been so secretive that she can’t conceive how you found out she was the one gifting you these ribbons. “How?!”

“First of all, I know your handwriting. Remember how you gave me corrections on my schoolwork when we were younger and our parents had council meetings?”

“I-" Caitlyn stutters, a hue of pink dusting her cheeks. 

“And second,” you continue, not quite done. “You haven’t been very subtle about it. You seem to forget something in your bag at every event we’re at together, and then the ribbon happens to appear in mine after you come back.”

Caitlyn’s quiet for a few moments. “Oh.”

You smile. "Yeah, oh."

Caitlyn's blue eyes meet your own, devoid of her usual composure to show her slight nerves. "So...?" her voice is almost anxious.

"So," you repeat, gently reaching up to touch the navy ribbon in your hair again. The one that perfectly matches her navy Enforcer's uniform she's wearing right now. "I wore this...for you."

Caitlyn takes a shaky breath, heart pounding. "Does that mean-?"

She's cut off by your soft lips against her own. Your kiss is gentle and chaste, just a peck, and she barely has enough time to process what's happening before you pull away. "I like you," you say, your smile turning shy.

Caitlyn blinks at you, dazed. She's normally always so in command, so in control of her every action — whether that's in her Enforcer duties or her sharpshooting competitions or just her life in general — but with you, all hope of control always seems to fade. 

She steps even closer to you, gently reaching out a hand to trail along your cheek. "I like you too," she murmurs, and this time, you fear you're the one that's losing your composure because her gaze looks so loving and tender that it makes your cheeks burn. 

And when Caitlyn kisses you again, deeper this time, you allow yourself to sigh against her lips. She kisses you as if you're something fragile, something to be treasured and cared for. And you know, in that moment, that she'll do anything for you.  That, if you asked for the moon, she'd personally find away to fly amongst the stars to take it for you. 

"Are you mine?" Caitlyn asks the second she pulls away with a gentle nip to your bottom lip that makes you shiver. 

"I always have been," you mumble, letting yourself bury your face in her shoulder to hide your flushed cheeks. 

And Caitlyn just smiles, her arms snaking around your waist to pull you against her chest. "That's all I could ever ask for, darling."

[miange1]

HYUN-JU

male reader, reader is a college student, talks of dysphoria, hyun-ju's past, reader doesn't know hyun ju's trans, pining/being smitten, death, crying, scuicidal thoughts, im in love with this woman.

note: i am not trans, im a cis dude. if i ever get something wrong or offensive and you're trans just let me know and i'll fix it. Also I saw something where someone said gyeong-seok probably just thought hyun ju was a cis woman who had a really deep voice and i thought it was funny.

You had been lucky to pass the first game. You were scared out of your mind, and the small group you made from the first few games had died. It was terrible, you had no one. It's surprising how despite everyone being in the same situation— you found no more comfort.

But there was this girl you had seen. She had shoulder length hair, and earrings that truly just suit her. She was really pretty, you wanted to talk to her yet she was always with her own group.

Yet this time, she wasn't. She was just by herself for a moment, was she thinking to herself? Maybe you should talk to her? No, that's a bad idea. Okay, but what else was there to do? You might die without talking to the woman of your dreams.

Mustering up the little courage you had, you went over to her. Hands sweaty the closer you got to her. You wiped it on your slightly blood stained uniform, feeling even more icky realizing you were bloody.

Getting closer to her, you sat on a mattress. Shit, what now? You cleared your throat, "H..hi." you felt like you were back in highschool. Mouth dry as if you were talking to your fist crush. She looked over to you, a small smile on her curious face. "Hi."

She spoke to you, holy crap she spoke to you.

"How uh— how are you?" You stuttered.

But before she could answer you shook your head, blurting for her not to answer that stupid question. Jesus your face was burning up, felt like you had a fever.

"I'm sorry," You were able to get that out. "This is dumb, I just thought you were really pretty and.." She hadn't broken eye contact with you, but you could barely look at her. "In a situation like this it's pretty weird to say something like that to someone isn't it?"

"You think I'm pretty?"

You shut your mouth, looking at her oddly. "Yeah..of course i do. Do you not think so?" She scoffed, thinking you were joking. She had just gotten called beautiful by young-mi, and she believed it she truly did. But hearing it from someone she barely knew? Made her feel like crying again.

"I have been called a lot of things, yet not pretty. I only expected to be called pretty after my transition." That was where you made another face more confused than before. "Transition?" Your voice spoke with genuine confusion.

She raised her eyebrow at you, then rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that. I know you can tell." You really couldn't. There was nothing you had against transgender people at all, but it doesn't change the fact you couldn't tell.

"I really wasn't aware, was that offensive to you?" She stared at you for a moment, bursting out laughing after a while and earning some stares. "My voice? Even hearing me, you weren't aware?" You shook your head and shrugged.

"I just thought you had a naturally deep voice." Oh you were making her feel so much better, even if you didn't know it. She couldn't stop laughing, grabbing onto your shoulder as a touch of affection. It made you smile and laugh with her, your own hand touching hers to reciprocate.

The two of you had deeper talks over time until the next game. She told you what you guessed she told the others, about her plan on what to do with the money, how she had others distance themselves from her when she told them she felt like a woman. It made you feel bad, but you were happy she was telling you this because it felt like you had known each other for so long.

You wished it lasted longer

—

"Six." The moment it was spoke, you had been pulled by hyun ju. It was a habit she was making, always grabbing you the moment the she heard the number. But this time, she made a mistake. She realized last minute young-mi was too behind.

She panicked, no one else seemed to have room and it was a moment of time before she absolutely had to close the door.

Hyun ju's grip stayed on you, it seemed to get tighter the more stressed she got. Young mi was just a kid, she deserved to live on.

"10, 9, 8,"

You only had so much time to decide. You yanked yourself from hyun ju's grip, and she instantly gave you a look as if you were stupid. "What are you doing?" She wanted to save you both, but you knew that wasn't possible.

You didn't speak, only letting your lips touch hers quickly, yet you stayed as long as you could. Even in death you would always remember her lips, they trembled against yours, confused, yet wanting and needing more. You let yourself run out, pushing the girl inside. "1."

It was done, and there was nothing that could be done. You heard the yell of her voice, panicking and shaking the door trying to get it to open. "No, no, unlock the door! God damn it!"

"I love you." She stopped, looking at you in your eyes. You were scared too, crying even. You didn't want to die, and she knew it. She was so deeply in love with someone she only knew for a few hours, but it felt like years. She needed you, she wanted you to live. Get to know you better when this was all over, maybe even go further if it could!

She couldn't even say it back while you were conscious. The life left your eyes, and your body fell. "No.." she was in disbelief. No, you weren't dead.

"Please, please, I love you too.." She couldn't be upset at anyone, she couldn't even stand on her own two feet.

"Unnie." Arms wrapped around her, "Come on..you have to get up..the next round." She didn't want to play anymore, she didn't feel like she could. If only it was her, she could have at least had hope for you and young-mi.

Damn it

[kaisentine]

𝒲HAT IS THAT MELODY?

turn that shit up ! what popular song do bllk boys remind me of?

feat. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, mikage reo, itoshi rin, oliver aiku

note : YES… i did do research on what the songs’ meanings are and i understand some of them don’t fit as well but i’m also basing this off of certain lyrics as well so #don’tdiscriminate… also this has opened up my multi-character works 😁 expect more in the future LMFAO. also is this the right time to say i did not proofread

💿 MICHAEL KAISER is now playing… back to the basics by lana del rey (unreleased)

cw : uhm coercion (i think), implied toxic relationship (I LOVE KAISER DONT GET ME WRONG… but he’s still poopy anyway #keepingitreal☹️) + if you count that in, then there’s angst if you squint, thoughts of killing (JUST ONCE and it’s not serious, promise!)

“everybody’s saying that you’re no good for me”

it’s not hard to decipher you’re definitely in love with the star soccer player—michael kaiser. however, even with your rose-tinted glasses, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s still an asshole. so now it honestly feels like it’s you and him (probably ness too) v.s your friends. they just don’t understand the euphoria hidden behind all his lies. but God was it hard to handle him now that he’s a hotshot within the athletic world—it’s like when you try to speak to him, he starts spewing nonsense and even more lies to you.

“c’mon, hase.” his plea sounds more like demanding no matter how hard he tried to sound convincing. it’s weird seeing a man like him on his knees begging so you avert your gaze with your arms crossed. you know you’re doomed to give into him and his sweet-talk again—like you always do—kaiser knows that, he just needs to find which button to press to make you give in faster.

this time you’re taking longer than you normally do. he’s starting to get impatient by your little game of trying to get rid of him. “kaiser… we can’t keep doing this anymore.” you finally say, something kaiser didn’t expect you to say. “last name basis already, huh?” he gets up from his (very awkward) position to tower over you—to intimidate you.

you try to stand your ground but with the way he’s looking at you, is it too late to run away?

“i know what you’re trying to do. my friends keep telling me.” you’re stubborn, aren’t you? you’re annoying when you’re like this, he hates it. “and you’re really listening to your friends over your boyfriend?” he keeps trying to talk but you cut him off, “ex-boyfriend. please, don’t do this.” you’re the one begging now and he really wishes he could relish in this sight forever.

SLAM

holy shit, did you just slam the door on him? i’m going to die—you think. kaiser chuckles on your porch after being met with your front-door i’m going to kill you—he thinks.

the next few weeks are bombarded by countless messages from ness. who you are quite acquainted with him because of kaiser. all of them are along the lines of ‘trust me, he’s changed’ they’re all full of bullshit that you can smell it and scrunch your nose up in disgust. but as fate would have it, it wasn’t on your side!

“took ‘ya long enough, hase.” the sickly sweet nickname rolls off his tongue like second nature. it’s a very familiar scene, he’s on your doorstep again. he’s towering over you and your eyes are glossed over with admiration and guilt. “‘m really sorry.” you try not to sniffle to keep it cool. you really despise the way kaiser can’t keep his stupid grin off of his face at your weak attempt not to cry. “aw, it’s okay. but it’s gonna take a lot for me to forgive you.” he says in faux concern before pulling you into a hug—his cologne filling up your senses and making it hard to breathe.

the urge to punch him in the stomach is futile by the way he basically crushes your bones in the hug. oh you hate the way you can never get rid of him, oh you hate the way you give into him, oh you hate the way he’s the one wanting the apology when it’s actually you who deserves such privilege.

‘i hate you but i really just hate the way i love you too much to let go.’

because eventually, you know you’ll always fall into his traps no matter how far you run away. however, the only thing on your mind is how you’ll never hear the end of it from your friends.

💿 ITOSHI SAE is now playing… no one noticed by the marias

cw : angst, hurt/little to no comfort (guys… please don’t burn me), OK but open-ending, uh sae might be a really super big asshole here, i also realized at the end that 7 weeks and 3 days by yungatita would’ve been better but YOLO

“come on, don’t leave me, it can’t be that easy, babe.”

as much as you’d like to make him stay, you know he wouldn’t. he wanted to be as free as a bird in the sky with no restraints—including a relationship. even after promising one day he’d come back, reassuring you that you’ll always be his answer, he then left without a trace. now you’re just starting to realize letting go is easier than it seems until the problem arises once again.

you know he already told you that he’d come back but why only now does he decide to show up? a lover of yours to whom you vowed to never love another before his return. it’s just been so long that you doubt he evens remembers the promise.

“didn’t think you’d actually turn up.” you spit out, he isn’t even phased by the malice in your tone. “i told you i would, didn’t i?” he responds. “yeah but that was like ten fucking years ago?” you emphasize the ten fucking years because seriously, ten years radio silence and he thinks he can just slide back into you life like that? he must be a crazed man.

for the first three years of those ten, you were content with waiting for him. the fourth and fifth, you began growing impatient. sixth, you felt like you didn’t care anymore. from the seventh to ninth year, you swore you hated him with a dagger aimed to your heart. lastly, on the tenth year (on which he decided to show up), you finally accepted he did not give a shit and that you shouldn’t either.

“i needed to prioritize my career before i could support any of my relationships.” he now sounds confused by the way you’re so upset at this situation.

he used the ten years you took to realize that dwelling on some dumb red-head wasn’t worth it to work on his soccer career? “you could’ve texted.” you retorted. “didn’t have the time to.” your jaw actually wants to drop by how ignorant his response is. he’s talking to the person he ghosted for a decade like this?

you’d like to joke around and say ‘damn sae, you’re just like an ex who slides back into your life’ but it isn’t a joke—not with him, at least. “didn’t have time to? it would’ve been better if you never had the time to. just let us go, itoshi.” the way you say his last name is deadly. he’s already been bitten by a snake once before so he knows he can survive your bite.

does he even know how much you sacrificed? did he put two and two together to realize how much he made an impact to you? so much so that at one point, anything would’ve reminded you of him.

“you’re being emotional, talk to me when you aren’t.” he says as if he wasn’t the one who started the conversation—the nerve!

“my number is the same but change the last digit to 8.” and off he goes, removing himself from your life like always.

the way you’re quietly dialing the phone that night completely destroys everything you worked for—like you’re crumbling down just for the thought that he might pick up.

💿 MIKAGE REO is now playing… show me how by men i trust

cw : guys it’s getting too angsty for me i might cry, still a lil angst and neglect but it’s not that bad 😭, i acc wrote this one last bc i didn’t know which song to use for him (my first option was shameless by avenoir), when i was writing this… i was thinking abt melania and trump’s relationship (WE LISTEN AND WE DON’T JUDGE.), reader eats meat… anyway… so this is significantly worse than everyone elses so uhm, cliff hanger who!

“show me how you care.”

everyone keeps commenting on how lucky you are that you managed to bag a billionaire’s son and you say thanks! because that’s how you should respond. but dear God, does he even know anything about you anymore? being in a chokehold relationship with mikage corp’s heir isn’t too hard until you start questioning reo’s love for you. yeah he’s shown you how he loves you but you need more words instead of actions and a credit card.

“reo, can we talk?” you ask the purple-haired male while he’s hard at work at his desk. “i’m a bit busy right now. we can talk later, yeah? go out and use my card as an apology.” he hums before returning his vision back to whatever he was doing. it’s the typical response you were expecting but you didn’t want to use his money—you wanted to talk.

you’ve already exited the room to go to the mall anyway. you’re left eating alone at some restaurant with shopping bags being used as your excuse for some company. the steak you ordered is bland like the way reo hugs you. his touches feel empty now, every time you go to hold his hand, he doesn’t flat out reject it but he doesn’t squeeze your hand the same way you do—the same way he used to.

one thing about reo is that it seems like he hates communication and in his world, the only way he knows how to say sorry is his credit card.

he doesn’t care, does he?

when you get back to his place, he acts like he doesn’t remember the way you said that you wanted to talk. he keeps trying to put off that talk for as long as he can. it’s gotten to the point you have that stupid look on your face—cheeks being slightly puffed out with your eyebrows furrowed. reo hates the look on your face so he approaches you with caution.

“you good?” he asks but you don’t respond. “need a hug?” he just keeps talking to the point you feel like something is boiling in your head. you shake your head to say no because you’ve started to dislike his emotionless hugs—feels like you’re hugging a log with brittle twigs. how would he feel like if you gave him the same treatment he’s given you? although, it is a bit more serious because you aren’t speaking to him at all.

his time will come where you grace him with your voice one again but that’s only when he actually asks you to talk to him! in his invisible diary, he write ‘it’s been 3 days since they’ve spoken to me, i can’t see through my right eye…’ sure he’s being more than overdramatic but he can’t figure out why you’re giving him the silent treatment.

oh but little did you know, he remembers that you did want to speak with him…

“can you just speak to me, please?” the way he says please is intoxicating to you. you’re waiting.

“fine. let’s have that talk.”

💿 ITOSHI RIN is now playing… lovers rock by tv girl

cw : unrequited love, angst, reader should go to r/aita 😭, uh kissing, this one is longer but rin isn’t even in my favs 😭

“because love can burn like a cigarette”

and it only hurts because you know you can’t have him. you’d love to kiss him right now but you understand that if you do then your whole life would probably blow up into a million pieces. it hurts so much that even if your life blows up, it wouldn’t matter. can it hurt that much to just kiss him? yes.

“oh he totally likes you!” you giggle at your friend’s flushed face after an encounter with her longterm crush—itoshi rin. she tries to shut you up in a joking manner but manages to only do so after she confesses something. “didn’t i tell you?” she asks which makes you raise an eyebrow. “tell me what?”

“…he does like me.”

wow, an arrow straight to the heart much? your expression of gloom is soon masked by raw surprise. “really?! when did that happen?” you force out a smile—to your credit, you were genuinely surprised by such because never once had she mentioned it before. “last week.” she sounds guilty, the type of guilty you’d only show your friends if you forgot to mention that you got married.

little did she know, you also had your eyes on the raven-haired man for quite some time now too. “ooh girl i’m hurt,” you start with it off with faking a shot to the heart and she laughs. “should’ve told me earlier!’ you almost fall to the ground for the effects (and also because your knees feel weak in sorrow) but refrain from doing so. “sorry, sorry! come to my house this saturday, i’ll introduce you!” she says before quickly running off to wherever.

“sure.” you whisper. walking to the nearby bathroom feels more like you’re dragging yourself to it. you can’t bring yourself to muster up the tears to cry over heartbreak because she really didn’t know you also liked rin. but the way you couldn’t even cry because now you’d feel like the asshole? you hated her.

you dreaded going to her house that saturday.

sadly, time stops for no one and now you’re here sitting in your friend’s room with rin all alone because she needed to help her mom with dinner. it wasn’t a crime to yearn for someone you couldn’t have but being with the someone you couldn’t have? someone bring you to jail already.

it’s quite awkward in the room due to the silence and both of you choosing to not speak. but being a chatterbox such as yourself, you’d soon come to regret it. “so… whats up?” you ask with caution. “nothing much. i only agreed to come because my soccer training was canceled.” he answers. you nod at his words—he looks really peaceful right now.

his black hair draping down his face, striking eyes bringing emphasis to his bottom lashes… his nonchalant expression. it’s just too much for you.

across the room.

you’re across the room from him and you hate the distance. all you know is that they both like each-other—nothing more—no labels—no launches. would doing something now really hurt more than how you’re hurting right now?

it’s quick. you were quick on your feet to get over to him, you were quick to bend down to where he was resting his back on your friend’s bed, you were quick to close the space, you were quick to move away.

rin is bewildered by your actions with no words to say. “sorry!” you apologize as fast as you dash out of the room—leaving him sitting there to question his thoughts, bringing a finger up to his lips—did his mu’s bestfriend just steal his first kiss?

“where are you going?” your friend’s mom asks aloud when she sees you dashing to the front-door. “my mom called! emergency! say that i said sorry!” those were the words you spoke before booking it out the front door.

later, when your friend comes out of the bathroom to question her mom what the commotion was all about, she just says that you had an emergency—she frowns because she really wanted you to try her cooking. after dinner, she brings rin back up to her room. just like you did hours before, she advances her moves to hover her face right above his—to give him a kiss, just like you, albeit, it’s longer and more drawn-out unlike yours.

“you’re my first kiss.” he mutters out.

💿 OLIVER AIKU is now playing… why’d you only ever call me when you’re high? by artic monkeys

cw : SITUATIONSHIP (bleuhhh), somewhat suggestive..? (idk but be wary cause idk how to write him w/o making it smth like that), angst, aiku is an asshole (BRO everyone is an asshole here i’m crying), mention of drugs

“why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?”

your lame situationship loves calling you late at night after getting with another girl and now you’ve grown to hate when he calls you but you just can’t stop picking up his calls.

you’re jolted up awake once you hear that fuck-ass ringtone coming from behind your pillow. the screen is bright so you have to squint really hard to see what was going on, you’re on your way to decline the call when you see his name pop up but your hand slips (!) and you swipe the call. “oliver, it’s three in the morning.” you groggily complain only to be met with heavy breathing on the other end.

“oh don’t even. call me when you’re done.” you gasp, then end the call. you throw your phone to the end of your bed and slam yourself back down onto your mattress. does that man ever catch a break? why do you even like him. it’s not like you guys are really anything else so is it really worth it to hang on and only hope for something you know you won’t get in return?

you probably get a good two hour nap before you’re awoken by another phone call. “you done?” you ask, more awake now since it’s 5AM already. “hi. yeah.” his voice reverberates along his bathroom walls—he’s gross, isn’t he? “you’re gonna make me pick up another phone call just to say that?” you sound irritated, and you are because it’s such a hassle to keep up with him like this.

“dunno, just wanted to hear your voice.” he replies in a wobbly voice. is he high again? “…are you high?” you ask in concern as if this wasn’t his 54th time calling after smoking something. “maybe.” he says. “you’re hopeless. you should go to rehab, you know?” you snake your way into his mind but it’s stupid to think he can even comprehend what you’re telling him right now.

“nah, i got better things to do, ‘ya know?” he chuckles at your pitiful attempt to help him get better. he knows you know that he isn’t keen on doing such—not anymore, at least. he’s content with his life as it is. “can i…” you breathe, “can i ask you something?” you finish. “what’s up?” he’s being as attentive as he can be through this state, he trying his best.

you hate the way how out of it he sounds, yet he’s still trying to hear you out. “do you still want this?” it’s like you had something get lifted off your chest only for it to get dropped on your head instead. “want what?” great, he doesn’t understand your question. not wanting to give this opportunity up, you rephrase it. “i meant, do you still want me?”

the other line is silent for a while. “sure, i still want you.” he responds. “so stop calling me when you’re high or you’re with another girl.” you winced at your own words. he’s really taking advantage of the way you understand that you guys aren’t anything more than a “oh, it’s complicated” type of relationship and that you guys are technically still allowed to see other people—but he’s the only one actually using it.

“let me ask you this. do you still want us?”

you loathe him but you can’t help but reply with i do.

“so don’t complain about my calls.”

thank you for reading this far :)

[deprivedreality]

𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗙𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗜 𝗕𝗔𝗞𝗨𝗚𝗢?!

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠...?

Word Count: 560

Content: Fluff. Mutual Pining. 3rd year Katsuki Bakugo x gn.reader in support course. Part 2 Part 3 (smau)

The afternoon sun was glaring over UA’s training grounds, the warmth seeping into Katsuki Bakugo’s skin as he finished his cooldown stretches. His muscles ached in a way that felt satisfying—proof of a training session well spent. He rolled his shoulders and glanced toward the entrance of the training ground, his sharp eyes catching sight of someone he didn’t expect.

You.

You were standing a few feet away, fidgeting with a big box in your hands, your usual confident demeanor replaced by nervous energy. He scowled, not out of irritation, but because his chest felt weirdly tight every time you were around. You were a second-year in the support course—brilliant, sharp, and, in his mind, annoyingly distracting.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, voice gruff as always.

You looked up, startled, and quickly adjusted your grip on the box. “Oh! I—I came to drop off the gauntlet you asked for last week.”

Bakugo frowned. “I didn’t ask you for shit. Hatsume was—” He stopped mid-sentence, realizing something. “Wait, you did the adjustments?"

You nodded, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. I thought you’d want them done faster, so I, uh… volunteered.”

There was something off about your tone, something hesitant that made him squint at you suspiciously. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not!” you blurted, your voice higher than usual.

His brows furrowed deeper. “Tch, whatever. Just give me the damn thing.”

You stepped closer, holding out his gears, but your hands were trembling slightly. He noticed, of course. He always noticed when it came to you. And before he could stop himself, he said, “Oi, are you nervous or something? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m not nervous!” you insisted, but then, without warning, the words tumbled out of your mouth like a landslide. “Okay, maybe I am, but it’s because I like you. Geez—”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bakugo froze, the words hitting him like one of his own explosions. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, wide with disbelief. “What?"

You blinked, your own face going pale as the weight of what you just said crashed over you. “Ah! Wait. I mean—”

“What did you just say?” he demanded, stepping closer, his heart pounding in his chest.

Your eyes darted around, searching for an escape route. “Nothing! I said nothing!”

“Bullshit,” Bakugo growled, his voice lower now. “You said you like me. As in, like, like me?”

Your face flushed scarlet. “I… I didn’t mean to say that! Forget I said anything!”

Before he could say another word, you shoved the box into his hands and bolted, sprinting toward the workshop like your life depended on it.

Bakugo stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the neatly done gauntlets in his hands. You liked him. You, the same person he’d been watching from afar for months. The person he’d subtly helped out—gruffly, of course, but helped nonetheless. The person who had a laugh that made his chest feel too tight and a smile that stuck in his mind longer than he cared to admit.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, a rare, uncharacteristic smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You actually like me. Holy shit.”

For the first time in a long time, Katsuki Bakugo found himself excited to chase something—someone.

And this time, he wasn’t planning to let them run too far.

Part two right here

a/n: i have part two in my drafts

ᓚᘏᗢ @deprivedreality 2024 | all rights reserved.

[chaepink]

Money, Money, Money! | sub!izuku midoriya

wc: 1.3k+ words | masterlist

dom!gn!reader, sub!pro-hero!izuku, sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship (reader is the sugar baby), degradation, bondage, financial domination, shoe humping, use of vibrator toys, gagging/choking, not really proof read

note: anon wanted the character to be changed to delu for context

AND GOD DAMN AM I PROUD OF THIS ONE

"Do you like it, baby?" izuku lifts his head up, his hazy, glassy eyes staring at the way the new outfit you just bought today looks on you. it looks incredible but he isn't able to voice that thought out, not when you've attached a ball choker around his head and in his mouth which prevents him from saying anything.

You smile when he nods eagerly, taking your sweet time to pose for him so he could see the entire outfit. Though you take longer than usual to do so, just so you could tease him.

You walk towards him, each loud step of your shoes on the floor making izuku's heart race at what going to happen next.

When you've reached him kneeling on the floor in front of the bed, you lick your lips at the delicious scene in front of you.

Drool is dripping down izuku's mouth as it drips onto his legs and even on his leaking cock. a vibrator toy sits attached to his hard dick, waiting to be turned on. his hands are tied behind is back and you dont even need to tie his legs apart, izuku is obedient enough to do that himself. His body is fully revealed to you and if you were to see him from behind, you would be able to see a vibrator toy in his ass too.

You coo at him. "look at you, already leaking like a whore when i haven't even touched you yet." Izuku whimpers but you see the way his dick twitches at your words, his face flushing a bright red. He’s been in this position for a hour now and his dick has been hard almost the entire time. everytime he moves, his dick bumps against his stomach and he can't help but let out a moan each time.

"what? don't lie, you really are a whore for me." You stand in front of him, looking down to stare at the hearts in his eyes. "after all, you let me do all sorts of stuff to you." You chuckle before remembering something.

"oh right! i almost forgot about the toys on you, let me just grab the remote it came with." You reach for the nearby remote before reading the instructions carefully. You just bought the toy today for him and you were eager to test it out, wanting to see all the reactions it would emit from izuku.

"they both came together so i assume they're connected somehow." You quickly scan the paper.

"it says here.. that if i press this button-" You press a button and izuku sudden jerks forward, his eyes widening and tears immediately prickling his eyes. He whines and shuts his eyes. You can hear the sound of vibrations and when you glance at the one attached to his dick, you see the way its vibrating.

Holy shit. You assumed it was going to work well since it costed quite a lot but you didnt know it would work this good. Izuku’s face scrunches up and you realize you started the vibrations on high but you don't move to lower it.

A muffled gasp escapes from him as the toy in his ass immediately hits a spot in him that makes pre cum spurt out of his dick. You watch in amusement as izuku quickly falls apart at the feeling of being played with from both sides. He can't think properly on whether or not he focusses on the pleasure coming from his dick or his ass.

Drool escapes through the openings of the choker and he stares up at you with glassy eyes, pleading you to take it off. And so you do, you want to hear all the adorable noises he lets out obviously.

Though when you move towards him to do so, you purposely bump your leg against his dick, pressing it against his chest. Izuku lets out a cry at the friction.

You’re then surprised to see cum shoot of his dick, staining his chest. You watch in shock and disbelief but izuku is quick to apologize now that the choker is off him.

"s-shit [name] ah!" Izuku whimpers when his dick immediately becomes hard again and he realizes you haven't turned off the vibrations. If anything, he feels you increase them, making him widen his eyes.

"wait! i-i didn't m-mean ngh to c-cum!" You narrow your eyes at him and you suddenly grab a fistful of his hair to yank his head back.

"but you did cum anyways, didn't you? without my permission too like a brat." Izuku hisses at the pain and shuts his eyes. He slowly nods, not wanting to disobey you.

He feels you let go of his hair and stare down at him with narrowed eyes. You’re looking at him like he’s some dirty plaything for you and while he is, fuck do you look hot doing it.

You feel some movement against your leg and you stare down, seeing his dick move against your leg. Izuku must be doing it subconsciously because when he follows your gaze, he gasps and stutters out another apology but you quickly cut him off.

"what, you want to hump my shoe or something? you want to be a dumb whore for me?"

Izuku bites his lip but he then nods eagerly and you let out a small laugh. It’s addicting, really. The feeling of having such power and control over someone who could easily overpower you. He could break out of the bondage right now but you know he won't. You know he wants to be a good boy for you.

You stick your foot out in front of his leaky dick, presenting your new fancy leather shoes that izuku assumes are really expensive.

Well he knows they were expensive actually, he bought them for you for you twos anniversary recently.

With almost no hesitation, Izuku begins grinding his dick against your shoe, groaning at the friction of the rough material against his sensitive member. He can’t help but lean forward to lay his cheek on your thigh and stare up at you as he falls apart from your shoe. You feel the way his dick vibrates from the toy attached.

“F-Fuck ah! Y-Your shoe feels s-so good, baby.” You giggle and lean down to wipe the drool from the corner of his lips, making his eyes flutter.

Since he’s still sensitive from his first orgasm, his second one quickly approaches and he’s quick to warn you. He lets out a groan as he stares up with you with glassy eyes and you already know what he’s asking for as his mind is probably too foggy to even ask or think properly.

You play with the remote in your hand before turning the toys to its highest setting, making Izuku let out a choked whimper.

“Go on, baby. You’ll be a good boy and cum for me right? You finally asked for permission this time.” Izuku nods rapidly as his pace against your shoe speeds up even more. He suddenly lets out a cry as cum shoots out of his dick and stains your shoe along with your lower leg.

You feign a pout. "my shoe is all ruined now!" Though izuku doesnt seem to care, only continuing to rut again your shoe even though he just came for the second time. The pleasure must've gotten to his head, you think as you watch in amusement. You glance down and see as his cum drips down your shoe and onto the floor underneath.

You use a finger to tilt his head upwards towards you, a small grin on your face. "but you'll buy me a new pair right? you'll be a good boy and do that for me, wont you?"

Izuku stares up at you dumbly, hearts practically in his eyes. He nods eagerly.

"anything for you, [name]."

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[nkogneatho]

"BETTER WRAP THAT PRESENT UP BEFORE YOU GIVE IT TO ME"

—gojo satoru x reader.

—#TAPE NO 1 OF 'Tis the Season to be Naughty

—cw: fem!reader, cunnigulus, nicknames, reader in lingerie

Throughout your dating life, you have never met a man who was interested in fucking you for your benefit. All they cared about is a quick fuck as long as they cum. Nothing for your pleasure. That changed when you met Satoru. He fucked you for you. To make you see the stars. To make you cum till you couldn't anymore. It's only fair that you returned him the gesture once in a while.

Christmas was Satoru's favorite because he loved spoiling you with gifts, watching your eyes light up and your fingers carefully unwrapped the gift, squealing and kissing him for them. He also loved the way you would beautifully decorate his gifts—he almost never wanted to open them, tearing away your efforts but you insisted—write him little cards with cute hearts drawn on each. But this year, you hid one gift from him.

"Sweetie pie, I am home." He announced, walking through the door. The higher ups tied him up with work even on Christmas eve, yet being the strongest he was, he completed it before time to spend time with his baby.

"Honey?" You didn't reply. The room lights were off, only the fairy lights on the christmas tree illuminating the sexy silhouette of you leaning against the bedroom doorframe.

"Welcome home. Santa left you a package."

"Wha—Holy shit." He walked closer, the soft glow of the lamp light bouncing off your skin and what he thinks is the most provocative lingerie. Red lace hugging your curves in all places oh so beautifully, he was jealous of them.

"Well, well, well...Looks like someone's been busy while I was out, huh?" He gulped. Taking in the sight of your  figure barely contained by the lacy red ensemble.

"Santa left one his naughty helpers for me?"

"Mhm" you nod, looking at him with a smirk while his hands pulled in your waist. "Was tired of helping him. Thought you needed to use me more than him." Slender fingers roamed all over your body, thumb lingering on some places for a little longer.

"All this for me?" He questioned, his pointer toying with the string.

"Yeah. All yours, Toru."

"Mmm..." he hummed. "Love unwrapping my presents. This might be the best one yet." That is all that was said before his lips crashed yours, an arm snaking your back to hold you as your arched into him, guiding both of you to the bed. Satory plopped you down but he remained on the edge.

He inhaled loudly, eyes bathing in the sight of you. the exhale followed a little later, almost coming out as a groan. You spread your legs, teasing him with the most inviting posture.

"Fuck. You're going to be the death of me Y/N Gojo." His lips trailed kisses all over your legs before they caught up to your pussy. He could feel it through the lace. All throbbing and wet. Just for him. Poking his tongue out, he pressed it against your clothed sex a few times, making you squirm. his fingers abandoned your thighs to rub you through the red fabric. He didn't take your panties off, just moved it enough to get access of your cunt. He left warm breaths on her.

"Pretty fucking pussy. Always so wet for me," he teased. Moving your thighs further apart, he licked a long stripe between your slick, parting your pussy lips. His eyes closed to feel how good you taste before going on for real. Warm, sloppy muscles making out with each other. Your fingers cascade through his locks, sweet moans leaving your lips.

"Fmuuck. shweet fmucking cwunt," mouth never leaving her. His big hands travel up to palm your tits and pinch your nipples, eyes so focused on you and the way you squirm, yelp and whine.

"Fhhuck. Toru, ngh—feels sooo good."

He continues his adorable abuse on your pussy before he shoves two fingers in your hole, inching you closer and closer to your climax.

"C'mon, princess. Do it for me. Santa sent you to help me, didn't he? Go ahead and help me. Lemme see this cute pussy cum." If you weren't gonna cum from the tongue or the fingers, you sure as hell did from his lewd sentences.

"G-gonna cum, toru. fuck. please ah—"

Soon enough, you were vibrating, thighs closing around his head, and fingers pulling his head too tight.

"Good girl." He breathed as he licked his lips. "Tell Santa thank you. Now..." you heard his belt unbunckle, "time for your present, princess."

[thechaoticcherub]

Cherub

Pairing: Priest!Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Reader is a student teacher at the Catholic nursery school attached to the church she attended growing up. While becoming disillusioned with being a teacher she runs into the church's priest that she has known since he taught her confirmation classes.

Warnings: 18+ please, large age gap, power dynamics, dubcon(?), priests, catholicism, lots of religious imagery, i mean i am GOING TO HELL, blatant blasphemy, violation of holy spaces, joel is a PERVERT, some mentions of him being interested in reader as a underage teenager(no actual underage anything), masturbation, sexual shame, humiliation, embarrassment, innocence kink, virgin reader, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, light choking(not even really choking), rough sex, pussy pronouns, no use of y/n, religious trauma, i really gotta underscore how much I violate holy things from christianity, smoking, cigarettes, cum play, lots of pet names, no daddy kink but lots of calling him Father

Notes: Okay please bless me lord for I have SINNED. this is FILTH even thought there isn't like constant smut it might be the dirtiest thing i've written? I'm so sorry to Catholics everywhere. And I'm sorry if I fucked up terminology. I tried to do lots of research but you know, liturgical shit is hard to understand. also yeah, i get how much this is more writer insert than reader considering the title. Ahem. I'm sorry this is again not really edited or beta read. sorry. Well I hope you enjoy!

OH! also: I have a playlist for this if anyone would be interested, let me know!

Word Count: 6.4 K

🎀👼🏻Home | Ask | Masterlist👼🏻🎀

It had been a long week at Holy Trinity Catholic Nursery School and you were exhausted, when you had first started your student teaching unit you had been beyond excited to be back at the church you grew up going to. You were familiar with the facilities including the big, beautiful sanctuary and the priest who still presided over the Parish was the priest who had done confirmation with you. Father Joel Miller had always been a slightly off-beat, interesting, yet intimidating choice for priest of a Catholic church. He was known for smoking Marlboro Reds in his office, having a scruffy unshaven face, giving short homilies in his gruff Texan accent and seeming more like a cowboy than a priest. 

There was something about him though that had always sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t tell if it was a good shiver, or something sinister. He was handsome, that was a known fact around the church when you were growing up, the other girls in your confirmation class giggled about it and  even now your co-workers at the nursery school often made jokes or teasing comments to each other. He had to be in his mid-fifties now with greying stubble and hair and lines around his eyes and forehead but yes, you did still find him attractive, but it didn’t shake the sense that your tingling sense of something might not have been entirely positive. 

Maybe it was the simple fact that his eyes always had lingered on you for longer than you felt necessary. Even when you were a young teenager in his confirmation classes, learning prayers, handing in your sermon notes, sitting in mass every Sunday, you felt his eyes on you. You never understood what it was about you that made him look for so long but he had. Now that you were working on becoming a teacher like you had always hoped, you found that when he came to visit the classrooms, he spent his time asking you questions about the classroom instead of the lead teachers. That was easy to brush off as maybe he felt like he was helping you learn, but when you brought the children to the main church for their daily prayers his eyes would spark on you and he would come to you first when he gave a blessing to everyone. His hand resting on your forehead as he spoke his short blessing before drawing the sign of the cross on your forehead with his thumb, his eyes stuck on yours as if he would never look away. Eventually he always did, moving on to each individual child and adult from your classroom, but he didn’t linger with any of them the way he lingered with you. 

Now, as the day was coming to a close you had snuck away from the classroom to try and escape the exhaustion that was working with children day in and day out. You had always wanted to be a Nursery school teacher but now that you were experiencing a classroom you understood why burnout was so common. You had made up a bad excuse and snuck down the cool hallway, away from the school portion of the building,  to the candle lit nave, you weaved your way through the pews over to the side aisle lined with stone arches. You took a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of the cutesy dress you wore because of your ridiculous desire to be the next Ms Frizzle. In your opinion, just under the arches to the side of the pews was the best place to sneak away to and smoke without being in too much danger of being caught. The incense that was regularly burned covered up most of the smell, you could enjoy the view of the sanctuary and the altar while you smoked and it was usually deserted. You tucked yourself under one of the arches, your back pressed into the cool stone and lit up. Taking a long inhale you relished in the fact that you weren’t surrounded by screaming preschoolers. It was allowing yourself these couple minutes away from the chaos of the end of the day that made this week bearable. You smoked and tapped the ash off onto the stone floor, rubbing it into the cracks with your foot as you went. 

“You ain’t sposed to be smokin’ in here, young lady.” The voice came from a few yards away by the priest’s door that opened into the sanctuary by the altar, you jumped and turned to face the man whose voice it was. Father Miller was watching you as he walked across the sanctuary, first past the altar and then the pulpit and down through the central gap between the altar rails. You felt frozen in place, you had smoked here multiple times and no one had ever come in and of course now, it was Father Miller who had found you here. He stood in front of the first pew and crossed his arms over his chest, still watching you. 

“Shit,” you said, unsure of what to do with the lit cigarette. Usually when you were done smoking you’d put it out on the floor and rub out the mark and shove the butt into the pack to get rid of later. Now he was there and the smoke from your cigarette filtered up above you, curling against the stone arch and then dispersing. 

“Got a fresh mouth on you too,” He added with a laugh. “Never knew that about you before,” he crossed in front of the pew, walking towards you. You felt like a small animal caught in a trap and he was some kind of giant predator stalking towards you. He was wearing all black, his shirtsleeves were rolled up and his clerical collar was bright white against the black of the shirt. 

“I’m sorry, Father, I…didn’t think-” You broke off because really you didn’t think you would be caught, not that you didn’t think it would be a problem or anything. Joel’s eyes widened a little as he waited for you to finish your sentence, he turned at the end of the pew to walk along the side aisle to the first arch where you were still trapped. His finger grazed alone the  wood of the pew, 

“You didn’t think…?” He prompted when your voice faltered. You shrugged, 

“I don’t have an excuse, Father.” You admitted. Father Miller walked right up to you in your alcove that you thought would be so secret and stood in front of you. You remembered how intimidated by him you had always been, suddenly you felt fifteen again, having to recite scripture and prayers correctly in your weekly confirmation classes. Your heart thudded in your chest as he looked down at you, he was tall, broad and as he stood so close to you, popping any sort of personal space bubble you thought you had, you realized you could smell him. Tobacco, cool mint, fresh sweat and then underneath it all, an acrid heat, almost metallic. It mingled into something not unpleasant but it did mean he was too close. 

“Go ahead and smoke that, kid.” Joel’s eyes moved from yours down towards the cigarette dangling in your fingers and he nodded slowly, encouraging you. 

“I-I shouldn’t…” You stuttered, still looking up at him, almost transfixed on his face, still frozen there half with fear, half just trapped in his gaze. 

“No, you shouldn’t…but you already are, cherub, may as well finish.” Joel said and you watched as a sly smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. Cherub. Not typically did a priest use any sort of nickname for a parishioner, let alone a pet name like that. If anything they would say “my child” if in confession. Cherub sent that familiar shiver down your spine, a memory surfaced of that word on his lips years before. It had been to you then too,

“Say a hail mary and you will be absolved, cherub.” You must have confessed something to him or done something wrong in class.  Your heart sped at the memory and your eyes flicked up to meet his. He was telling you to smoke, daring you to and there was no reason not to anymore. It wasn’t like he didn’t smoke in the church, Mr. Marlboro Reds in his office. So you held his gaze as best you could and lifted the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. You blew the smoke away from him and he watched you, like he had so many times before. 

“Aint you supposed to be with the kids?” He asked, still standing to close, his scent still wafting over you, still just watching you smoke. 

“Yes,” You said softly, “But I needed…a minute away,” You didn’t even want to admit how much you needed to get away from your job, your responsibilities but the words spilled out of you before you could stop them. You hurriedly brought the cigarette up to your lips again, as if to silence yourself.

“A minute away…” Joel repeated, “To pray?” He asked, his voice mocked you because even though you were in the church, you weren’t lighting a candle or on your knees asking for peace. You were smoking and feeling bad for yourself. You started to shake your head, the cigarette dangling from your lips now, before you could even complete the motion his hand was on your chin, halting your movement.  His thick thumb dug into one side of your jaw, his pointer finger curled down the other side. Breath, and all thought was knocked out of you. All you could do was look up at the chiseled face above you.  There was grey in the scruff on his cheeks and peppering his mustache and  his chin was tilted up as his eyes looked down on you, examining your face. The old priest shouldn’t have been touching you like this, you knew that but your feet wouldn’t work, your stomach twisted and the shiver running up and down your spine still couldn’t make up its mind about whether it was a good shiver or a bad shiver. “I think you need’ta get on your knees to pray more often,” his voice had lowered slightly but the gruff resonance in it was enough to shake you. You thought for a half second he was about to force your to your knees now but instead he reached up with his other hand and plucked the dangling cigarette from your lips. He put it into his mouth, inhaled and then removed it, taking a step away from you,

“Thanks, cherub.” he said and then he turned on his  nice leather shoes and walked back up through the pews. 

+

You didn’t return to the church to smoke again. You did tell yourself you would go to mass more often. The thoughts you were having about that evening were completely unholy, and you needed to force them out of your mind. You needed to take the Eucharist and try and heal yourself from these sins of the flesh. For the first time in a long time you had been tempted, really tempted to do something you knew was wrong. When you were young you had touched yourself plenty but as you got older you became more and more disgusted by your actions and resisted it, knowing self love was sinful, but that interaction with Father Joel Miller had you thinking things that made your body heat up. The crawling shiver up your spine had been a warning, a warning about feelings that had bubbled up in your tummy and how it would be so easy for those feelings, those desires, wants, needs to take over. It was your own dirty mind that was allowing you to believe it was because of Father Joel looking at you that you got that creeping sensation. He was a priest, a little bit of an unorthodox priest, but a priest nonetheless and you were allowing dirty thoughts to change your opinion of him. So going to mass was a good idea. 

You didn’t allow yourself to look at Father Miller during the service on Sunday, but his gruff voice speaking his homily reminded you vividly of the way he said “cherub”. The way he had told you that you needed to “get on your knees to pray.” You could barely pay attention to his words because simply his voice, that resounding, husky voice did something to you and warmth pooled deep in your belly. It felt like there was a persistent drip of warmth sliding lower down, lower to that place that remained mostly unexplored by you, by anyone. All because of his voice.

You felt like it vibrated through the floor of the church and up into your pew, making you pulse with your disgusting desires.

You kept your eyes down, on your hymnal, refusing to look up at Father Miller because there was a quiet part of you, in the back of your mind, that told you if you looked at him, you’d be meeting his gaze. That would do absolutely nothing to help control that heat that was pooling inside of you. 

When you stood to go to the altar rails and receive the eucharist your legs were wobbly, damn this weakness. There was no reason to sexualize Father Miller’s kindness to you. He hadn’t gotten you in trouble for smoking in the church and in return you were allowing these debased thoughts to happen to you in church on your way to receive the very body and blood of Christ. While you walked up the aisle, the crucifix directly in front of you, a statue of the Virgin Mary staring into your soul, you could feel that drip of heat wetting your underwear. You tried your hardest to tell yourself it was nothing, it was just natural discharge, not what you knew it to be, your body’s reaction to Father Miller’s voice as he spoke holy words, prayers and talked of repentance during his Homily.

At the altar rail you knelt down on the cushion and clasped your hands in front of you to pray while you waited for your turn to receive communion.  You knew you would have to look at Father Miller while he gave you the body of Christ but you were scared, you had forced yourself to avoid looking at him all throughout mass, you hadn’t met his gaze when you knew he was looking at you and you told yourself time and time again that his gaze meant nothing. But your attempts to curb your desires had been in vain something about his voice, about the memories of his hand on your chin, his body so close to you, his smell had caused you to leak arousal into your underwear. Your labia felt swollen against the tight cotton and you were ashamed to be kneeling in church like this, your face was burning much like you would be if you were to be struck down dead right now. You could hear him approaching, speaking to each parishioner as he placed the body of Christ on their tongue and blessed them. You would have to look up at him shortly, your eyes would have to meet his, you would have to take in that face that had been haunting you while he spoke his blessing to you. He was on the person to your right and now was the time to tilt your head up, you almost didn’t but as he moved over, you knew your place as a good Catholic and you looked up at your priest. 

He was just as entrancing as he always had been, in off white vestments with gold stitching, his greying hair pushed back away from his face, a little long in the back, curling around his neck and his eyes, dark and hungry, staring down at you. Your vagina clenched around nothing and you burned with shame and the memory of his big hand at your chin and jaw. 

Your eyes locked onto his and his gaze held yours, refusing to let you go, there was no choice in the matter, you would gaze up into his eyes until the end of time if he wanted it. He held the body of Christ out to you, your head upturned. At the time you didn’t understand just how reverent you looked, all you could think of was him and the vague worry that your juices might have been dripping down your leg. 

“The body of Christ,” Father Miller’s voice changed ever so slightly when he spoke the words to you. You had been listening the whole time you had been kneeling and now his voice had lost the monotone pitch he had had. There was a lilt in his voice that was only for you. 

“Amen,” You said, you opened your mouth, your tongue very slightly pushed out, resting on the edge of your bottom lip, your eyes still captured in his gaze. Something blazed there, behind his eyes and despite the heat in your cheeks and the heat that was making your wet and swollen vulva pulse with a need you had never felt before, that familiar shiver crawled up your spine. Joel placed the body of Christ on your tongue and maybe you imagined it, maybe it was a split second that felt like it stretched into eternity but you could have sworn the tip of his finger grazed the side of your tongue as he took his hand away. That tiniest touch of his thick, calloused finger against an intimate and sensitive part of yourself made your brow briefly furrow and that deep clench of your sex to take over your body again. You closed your mouth around the wafer that you believed to be the actual flesh of your Savior and your gaze remained on the man granting you that sacrament. You watched his lip twitch ever so slightly as, without taking those dark, burning brown eyes form yours, he took the chalice he was handed and held it before you. 

“The blood of Christ,” he said, you could hear that lilt again, like he was mocking not only you but God himself as he held that chalice out. 

“Amen,” you said and he brought the chalice to your mouth, tilting it back while cupping his hand under your chin in case it spilled over. The proximity of his hand to your chin buzzed something in you. Your eyes remained on him and his eyebrows raised slightly as he fed you the Blood of Christ. When he removed the chalice from your lips, a droplet of the wine dribbled out of the corner of your mouth. You were about to reach up and wipe it when his thumb beat you to it. In one quick motion, he swiped it away, the calloused thumb leaving a trail of heat on your face. You felt him tear his eyes away from you like a punch to the gut and you knew you had to continue on. You made the sign of the cross on yourself, collected every ounce of strength you had and got up from the altar rail. You could feel your slick soaking your underwear, and wetting your thighs as you walked. You knew you had to beg for forgiveness and the only place to do that was Confession. 

+

You knew you had to confess. You hadn’t been able to resist your carnal desires, once you had returned to your apartment after mass on Sunday you had tried your hardest to relieve that mounting pressure between your thighs. You had delicately stroked your folds and experimented with pace and tried to find a rhythm that would relieve you but as if as punishment, you couldn’t. Now, you needed to confess and to make matters worse, the only person you could confess to was Father Miller. You came to confession on a Friday night after school had let out. The hours for confession were set and you knew he would be in the confessional, waiting for perishoners.

Friday was usually silent at the church, the staff had left for the weekend and most people didn’t confess on a Friday. You walked into the church  and down the side aisle to where the confessional was. It was tucked into the side aisle just in front of the very altar rail you had knelt at and drenched your underwear earlier in the week. Your cheeks were bright red as you stepped into the booth and knelt down in front of the partition, there was a screen between you and him but you knew he was there. The smell of him lingered all around you. Tobacco, mint and the acrid metallic scent…what could that be? If you had to guess you’d say gunpowder but that made no sense to you. Your body reacted to his scent as if you were being touched by him again, your body clenched and your heart skipped a beat. 

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was…” You actually had to think about it for a moment, you had confessed at your church in college but that was over a year ago…was that the last time you had confessed? “Over a year ago,” You mumbled. You paused, unsure if you should just start or if he would say something else. 

“What are your sins, Cherub?” He knew it was you. He’d never say that to someone else. It would have been, “My child”. But no, cherub. You were taken aback by this breach in protocol and you didn’t speak for so long he cleared his throat, “We ain’t gettin’ any younger.” He said. “And your sins aint any closer to absolved,” You needed to speak and speak now, to get all this off of your chest so you could lay it to rest and forget it. 

“I’ve…been plagued with unholy desires, Father.” You said. You could hear him shift in the box next to you and you leaned your head forward, your forehead pressed to the screen separating you. “I’ve been having these intense…” Embarrassment made your cheeks flush, you fiddled with the hem of the skirt you wore today and you knew you had to keep going, “Sexual fantasies,” You blurted it out and you heard him let out a long, slow breath. “I can’t stop them but the thoughts are so intense…and wrong,” You said. You listened to his breathing while your own breathing quickened because the heady scent of him was doing something to you again. Your knees were aching from where they were pressed into the kneeler and your whole body felt tight and tense. 

“You been actin’ on these…fantasies?” He asked. Acting on them? Did an aborted masturbation attempt count as acting on them? In the eyes of the Lord, yes. You needed to admit it to him. 

“Yes, Father…I…I believe I have.” You said it even as you could feel that blooming, dripping heat fill your belly. 

“You believe you have, huh?” He asked, that mocking lilt colored his voice and another shiver crawled up your spine. While the shiver might have been caused by something unholy, it certainly was a good shiver. 

“I’ve touched myself because of these fantasies,” You admitted softly, your fingers still twisting the end of your skirt. “I was never able to…finish but it’s still a sin.” You told him taking a deep breath through your nose, you wondered if he was leaning in towards the screen too. You pulled your head back to look,  you could see bits of him through the latticed wood that created the screen that was supposedly there to protect anonymity.  

“Yea, Cherub, it sure is a sin.” He spoke and the words, his voice was like an injection of heat straight to your core. You had already practically leaked all over the altar rails at communion but now you were going to drip down your thighs in confession. “And I know what your penance should be,” he said. You let out a relieved breath, maybe if you did the penance you would be absolved and God would take the lust from your body. 

“Yes, Father. What should I do?” You asked. You heard Joel lean forward now, his voice was closer to the screen and the seat he was on creaked slightly. 

“You gotta reach your fingers under your skirt and touch yourself again, right here, right now.” His low voice sounded even more gravely than usual and the words burned through you. 

“F-Father?” You questioned, unsure if this could be possible. Your brain was already addled with lust, and this felt wrong but the temptation was so strong. 

“The only way we can absolve you of these sins is to complete them.” He insisted and you knew how wrong he was. Those shivers you felt were warnings of him. But how could you resist this? His voice was like a drug and that scent and the way you remembered the feeling of his fingers on your jaw, the pad of his thumb on your chin at communion, the ridge of his finger on the side of your tongue. “I want you to tell me just how wet you are, kneeling there before God,” Joel’s voice came to you through your lust filled fog and before you could think further you reached your hand up under your skirt and into your underwear. Your fingers immediately slipped over your soaked lips and you let out a gasp at the realization you had been soaking your underwear during the entirety of the confession. 

“Father, it’s…so wet.” You gasped, you heard movement again from his side of the confessional, the rustle of clothing and maybe the clinking of a belt being adjusted. 

“Get those knees nice and wide and stroke your lips for me,” Father Miller said, and you knew he was close to you leaned into the wood lattice screen. You could practically feel his breath. You did as you were told, kneeling a little wider and stroking your lips. You let out a squeak of pleasure, “Nice n’ slow, darlin’” His voice floated through the screen and your fingers slowly, painfully slow stroked along your puffy lips. 

“Oh God,” The words were ripped from you as the tips of your delicate fingers grazed your clitorus and your whole body throbbed. 

“Jus’ your lips, pretty girl, don’t touch that clit of yours.” The filth words coming from your priest's mouth only spurred you on. You wanted to ignore him and touch your clit again, but how had he known you had touched it in the first place? “Stroke down to your hole, cherub,” it was horribly disgusting and lewd to hear him talk like that but it still stoked a terrible fire inside you. You reached your hand farther down, sinking your butt back towards your feet as you knelt. Your finger found your entrance, the source of your wetness and you found yourself longing to push your finger into yourself. As if he heard your very thought Joel chuckled,

“Dont even think about fingerin’ yourself, little girl.” He said. A moan of desperation that matched any of the vulgarity he had spewed to you fell from your lips. “Tell me, cherub, is that a virgin cunt you’ve got over there? Or is there somethin’ else you need to be confessin’ to your Father?” he asked. Your fingers were tracing a circle around your soaked hole, trying to listen to him and not let your finger enter your body. 

“I’m a virgin, Father. Please…” You didn’t know what you were asking for with that please but it felt appropriate. Once you said that, there was a rush of movement and then the door to your side of the confessional was thrown open and Father Miller stood in front of you. You nearly toppled over from where you were kneeling, your hand still shoved into  your underwear.  He made a tsking sound, 

“Oh my little Virgin Mary,” his voice crawled up your spine like the shiver. “I’ve always known you were my good girl,” He reached down to where you were kneeling and wrapped his arm around your upper arm, pulling you up to stand. You gasped and he pulled you out of the confessional, his body moving your weight like it was nothing. His hand tightened on your arm as he pulled you into his body and then it dropped to around your waist and his mouth was on yours, kissing you. It was anything but a chaste kiss, his tongue lavished your mouth, circling yours while his arms wrapped around your waist keeping you locked against his broad, strong body.  When he pulled away from you, you were gasping for breath and he let out a dark chuckle

“Oh, I am going to eat you up, Cherub.” It was a threat, but it made you pulse with need. Joel took your upper arms in his hands again, fingers digging in, “Let’s pray,” he said and he started to pull you over a few feet to the altar rail. In a sharp movement he pushed you down, bent at the waist over the rail, your feet pressed into the kneeler, you squealed in surprise, 

“Father!” You managed to squeak out.

“Let’s see this pretty cunt that’s causin’ you such problems, sweetheart.” Joel growled and with one hand shoved your skirt up and then ripped your undies down, exposing your soaked pussy to him. You whimper in shame and embarrassment. You were so close to the holy altar, staring up at the crucifix while your most private part was exposed to Father Joel Miller. He let out a laugh, as his hand came up to your ass, he grabbed the meat of it, digging his fingers in and spreading it enough to expose more of your pussy to him. 

“Ohhh there she is,” He breathed, he let out a low whistle, “So swollen, so wet.” The fingers of his other hand stroked down your wet lips and in response you spread your legs a little more. “Is that what you want, Cherub?” he asked. You nodded vigorously, completely lost in lust. Joel stroked along your lips up to your clit and he started to flick slow circles around it. Your moans started to echo as he worked you up. “That’s it, enjoy that sin, darlin,” he breathed, leaning over your back to whisper into your ear. You could feel his black button up pressed into your back while his fingers continued to circle around your clit, sending burning pleasure coursing through you. 

“P-please!” You begged, letting yourself go completely to the need for more. “God! Please!” You cried. 

“Please, what?” Joel asked into your ear, you could feel his stubble and mustache against your ear. His scent washed over you, intoxicating you further. 

“Please, I want you inside of me, Father!” You cried, you hadn’t even realized that was what you would say when you opened your mouth but it came tumbling out anyway. His fingers moved from your clit to your entrance where you were clenching on nothing, your cunt was begging for it regardless of what you said. His middle finger circled around your hole, not entering you but noticing how tight you were. Joel pulled back enough to look down at your pussy again, 

“You want me inside of your virgin pussy?” He asked, You nodded before letting your head hang down in shame, the shame of how much you needed it and how much you were willing to sacrifice for it. The temptation of him had been too much. You could feel his eyes on your fluttering sex while he started to ease his finger inside of you. He rocked his finger inside of you and you pressed yourself back against him. 

“Oh cherub, I can see that you’re a virgin.” He said, those greedy, dark eyes on you, still, even now, sending shivers up your spine. His finger had barely made it halfway inside of you when he tugged his finger away. You gasped at the loss and pressed yourself back towards him. 

“Father! No! Please!” You whined, wiggling your hips. 

“If your virginity is gunna be mine, I sure as hell am gunna take it with my cock.” Joel’s molten voice sizzled inside of you and the realization washed over you that you weren’t going to try to stop him, and you were about to be filled with his cock right here in the middle of the church. You heard the buckle of his belt and the shift of clothes, still leaned over the altar railing, legs spread wide, ready to for him to fully know you. 

Joel watched your pussy as he notched his thick cock against your hole, your inner lips were parting for him waiting for your cunt to accept him. 

“Joel,” you gasped his name for the first time as you fully understood what was about to happen. “Is it going to hurt?”You asked. 

“Well it ain’t goin’ to be a walk in the park at first, Cherub.” He said, and you could feel how thick his cock head felt at your entrance“But I think she’ll open up for me,” his voice had that mocking lilt to it again. Before you could say anything else he had started to push into you and the stretch was so much that the breath was completely knocked out of you. You lurched forward as his hips rocked into you. 

“Oh, that looks so good…pretty cunt splittin’ open for me.” He said and you knew he was watching the place where your bodies connected. He pressed himself forward again, forcing his way inside of you, making a spot for his thick cock in your tight hole. You let out a whine and he gripped your hips tugging you back more. “Atta girl, you’re takin’ my cock so well. This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” he asked and all you could manage was a garbled moan in response. It did hurt some as he continued to ease himself in inch by thick inch but you were also completely drenched with slick that it was decently quick work to ease you open. 

“Father! Oh, its…so big!” You pressed your hips back, hoping to open yourself more to him. When he was fully sheathed inside of you, he was still for so long that you felt like you might go crazy with the need for friction. “Please…father…fuck me.” You gasped and that seemed to spur Joel on, he started to pull his cock back before shoving it back in, setting a brutal pace. Joels breath started to grow ragged with his own pleasure,

“Is that what you want, little girl?” He asked as his hips snapped forward to fill you over and over. “You want my cock to fuck you?” He asked. You nodded, still dazed. 

“I wanna hear you, Cherub. Confess to me, what do you want?” Joel bent forward over you, one hand snaking around you and grabbing your throat , fingers pressing into your jaw.  You moaned, unable to form a proper sentence as he pulled you back by your neck, making you look up at the altar in front of you. “Come on, let‘s hear that confession,” he said as his cock ruthlessly pummeled against your cervix, splitting you open more and more with each thrust. His other hand, the one not forcing you to look at the image of your savior, trailed down your belly and underneath your skirt. His middle finger found your clit, stroking it in those quick, flicking circles. Your body tensed against the feeling, tightening around his cock. He groaned into your cheek while he held you up with his hand on your neck. “Come on, tell me you want me to fuck your pretty little cunt.” He said. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cried, your eyes blurring with tears as you admitted it in front of him, and God all the same. “Yes, I want your cock to fuck me and I want to come!” You cried. 

“You want to come?” He asked, “Is that it, Cherub? You wanna come while confessin’ your sins right here in front of the holy altar?” his voice was strained and you could feel his thrusts becoming messier, harder as he chased his own orgasm. 

“Yes! Father! Please!” his finger stroked across your clit. 

“Come on my cock, Cherub. Let go for me,” He spoke the word into her cheek, your head turned to the side, leaning back into him. Your orgasm burst over you like white light, heat and shivers down your spine. He stroked your clit through it while his hips pumped his thick cock in and out of you, pulling mewls of pleasure out of. Your eyes opened and you watched the statue of the Virgin Mary while his cock pummeled your cervix and he released ropes of his hot spend inside of you. He groaned into your cheek, your body still back against him. Joel’s teeth caught your jaw, biting you briefly. 

As your breathing settled a little, Father Joel Miller pulled himself out of you. You felt his eyes on your completely destroyed pussy and his fingers briefly stroked at your entrance, gathering a generous amount of his sticky come onto his fingers before he lifted your underwear for you, covering you again. 

“Turn around, Cherub.” he instructed and you did, your face burning with the shame of what had just happened. Joel grabbed your jaw with one of his hands, “Open,” he said and you did what you were told, your tongue pressed out just a tiny bit, resting against your bottom lip. He brought the finger coated in his come that had been dripping out of you to your tongue and swiped across it. The salty, heady taste mixed with the scent of Father Joel Miller, Tobacco, mint, fresh sweat and the acrid burning metallic gunpowder smell. Shivers ran up and down your spine as you stood in front of the holy altar, bleary eyed and red cheeked. 

“God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

new follower

words: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, male receiving oral, p in v sex, unprotected sex

rafe doesn’t follow many people on social media. topper, kelce, a few of his other country club friends, and you. 

the notification shocked you when you woke up one morning and saw that rafe cameron followed you back. you knew him decent enough, mostly through being friends of friends, with rafe being a year ahead of you when you were in school.

you assumed it was a mistake, he was scrolling his recent notifications maybe and accidentally clicked your follow button. you waited for him to realize and unfollow you, but it never happened, not even after a week passed.

“did you see?” you answer your friends call. rafe not only didn’t unfollow you, but he just liked and commented on your picture.

“holy shit. holy shit. holy shit.” stephanies excited voice rings out from the other side of the line, obviously having seen the recent development. “girl, he wants you.” “coming to the party this friday?” you say the message out loud, having already memorized it. you haven’t responded yet, not wanting to seem too crazy by immediately screaming yes. “i mean what else could that mean?” 

“girl, you are getting dicked DOWN at that party.”

--

you tug at rafes zipper, having already undone the button. you know you're moving too fast, should slow down and savor the moment as you sink to your knees.

“mmm, baby, you don't have to.” rafe reaches his hand down to pull you back up, but you already tugged at his pants, lowering them to his thighs so just his underwear is left covering his dick, obviously already hard and straining against the fabric.

“i want to.” you clarify, leaning in and kissing along his length until you reach the head of his cock, suckling at it through the material, wetting it with your mouth.

rafe is just as big as you thought he would be, you can tell just from wrapping your lips around him, making you even more excited to get him inside of you.

“fuck.” rafe groans. “quit teasing me, pretty.”

you smile at rafes compliment, pulling his underwear down, his cock pushing free, standing upright against his body. rafe groans as the cold bathroom air hits his cock, pressing his back even harder into the wall.

you waste no time, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, pausing for a moment to enjoy the taste before you begin to bob your head, unable to take him all the down, but getting pretty damn close before your gag reflex forces you to pull off.

“god, you're just as good as i imagined you'd be.” rafe moans, hands gripping your hair.

“you imagined this?” you ask, pulling away to blink up at rafe through your lashes.

“yeah.” rafe smirks. he's got no shame about being attracted to you. it's rare for a girl to truly capture his attention, especially for any period of time longer than a one night stand.

“oh.” you blush, wanting to know more details as you grasp his cock, stroking it to still give him some stimulation. “before or after you followed me?”

“after. can't believe i never noticed you in high school. your photo popped up in my discover and… god, you're just so pretty.”

“did you touch yourself to me?” you ask, the words tumbling from your mouth before you can stop them.

“you would like it if i did, wouldn’t you dirty girl?” rafe smirks, not giving you a chance to confirm that you really would like it as he pushes your head back down. you allow rafe to control your movements, keeping your mouth open as his cock pushes down your throat.

you swallow around his length, excited to tell all your friends about sucking rafe off in the bathroom at the party, especially stephanie, who you know can’t be far.

“god, i need your cunt. come on.” rafe tugs at your hair.

“yeah, yeah.” you nod, giving one last kiss to the tip of rafes cock before standing.

“turn around.” rafe moves you towards the sink, having you face the mirror. he smirks when you realize you’re watching him in the reflection as he pushes your dress up until your underwear is revealed, having chosen a cute thong specifically for rafe to see.

“jesus, you’re gonna kill me.” rafe groans, hands gripping your ass, feeling your plump flesh in his hands.

“yeah?” you smirk, leaning forward and placing your hands on the marble counter to shake your bum slightly from side to side. 

“too hot, i swear.” he groans, about to pull your underwear to the side when theres a knock on the bathroom door, making you both jump, forgetting that there was still an entire party going on.

“fucking occupied!” rafe shouts. “fuck off!”

you laugh at rafes yelling, listening to whoever knocked walk away, footsteps moving down the hallway.

“jesus.” he groans. “i should take you home before we fuck.” “what, not gentlemanly to take me for the first time in a bathroom?” you laugh.

“you’re not funny. i’m serious.” rafe pouts. “i like you, let me take you back to tanneyhill.” you turn around, pushing yourself up to sit on the counter. you lean forward, pressing your lips against rafes. its flattering that he wants to take you someplace more private, but you’re honestly not sure you can wait.

you reach between your bodies with both hands, moving your thong to the side while guiding rafes cock towards you entrance. you move the head of his cock through your folds, letting out a moan against his lips when you push it against your clit.

“alright, alright, shit.” rafe moans, “i’ll fuck you now.”

“good.” you smirk. “you can fuck me at tanneyhill later too.”

“oh yeah?” rafe laughs, pushing your hands away to take control, placing his hands on your hips as he sinks his cock into your entrance, moving slowly to let you adjust. “just can’t get enough of this cock, huh?” you let out a moan, gripping rafes shoulders as he stays seated inside you, pushing on your walls the perfect amount. 

“move. move, its okay.” you mumble. 

“god, i need a second too pretty girl.” rafe takes a deep breath, trying to control himself from absolutely ravaging you and cumming far too early. 

you laugh, cupping rafes jaw with your hands, tugging him close for a kiss. it gives him a moment to settle before he starts to move, cock pushing in and out of your cunt, a wet squelching sound filling the bathroom with every movement.

rafe has one hand gripping your hip while the other slides to your back, keeping you from leaning backwards against the mirror, chest pressed against his.

“let me see your tits, baby.” rafe asks, looking down the top of your dress at your cleavage. you nod, tugging at the front of your dress, pulling it down so your chest is revealed, having forgone a bra. rafe smirks as he looks down, breasts bouncing every time he thrusts into you.

“so hot.” he groans, managing to duck his head to kiss over the swell of your breast while keeping his cock pushing into you. “touch yourself for me.”

rafe picks his head up to press a kiss to your lips before leaning back, looking between your bodies while you start with your tits, cupping one and jiggling it to show off to rafe before playing with your own nipples, switching to the other side.

“your cunt, come on. let me see how you touch yourself.” rafe knows he can't last much longer, needing you to get yourself off since his hands are occupied keeping you in place on the counter.

you sink your hand lower, ruffling over the scrunched up dress until you reach your pussy, sinking lower to gather some of your wetness from where rafe is pumping into you. you glide back up to your clit, rubbing it with two fingers in the way you do when you get yourself off.

“oh, fuck.” rafe groans as you clench around his length. “you're trying to kill me baby.”

“cum inside me.” you whimper. “please.”

“yeah.” rafe nods. “cant last.” you can tell from the way rafes cock swells inside of you that he's close.

“come on.” you begin to grind your hips up and down. “give it to me.”

rafe let's out a strangled moan, half sounding like your name, half sounding like a curse as he cums, pushing his cock as deep inside of you as possible, triggering your own orgasm as you let out a squeal, back arching into him as your fingers slow on your clit.

“fuck, that was good.” you pant, body flopping forward to lean your forehead against rafes shoulder.

“fuck yeah it was.” rafe laughs, carefully pulling his softening cock out of you. he takes your chin in his hand, picking your head up to press a kiss to your lips. “now when can we do that again?”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @mysticallystilinski @https-luvvia @aerangi @folklorsweet @soilderpoetandking @auryyz

[eddiesxangel]

sucking off virgin!eddie blurb?

Cw: hand job, blow job, hair pulling, swallowing, dirty talk, pet names, g!n Reader.

You had Eddie lying back on the plush blankets by and pillows of your bed. You watched and his chest rise and fall rapidly as your fingers traced the outline of the prominent bulge imprinted in his sweatpants.

“You okay baby?” You cock your head curiously.

Baby. Eddie could have come then and there just buy the name of endearment alone.

“Y-yes” he stumbled out and he tried so hard to keep his cool, trying so hard not to cum just by your fingers lightly tracing his hard cock.

“I can’t wait to taste you.” You smirk as you hook your fingers under the grey elastic waistband. You were truly excited to see what he’s been hiding from you.

“Fuck” he bites as your words swim around in his head. You can’t wait to taste him. You want to have his cock in your mouth, to please him, to worship him.

“You like that baby?” You observed as his cock twitched once it was free of its confines.

He bites his lip and frantically nods his head, his small sweaty tendrils covering his forehead bounced up and down with it.

“Oh honey, you’re so big” you coo. Your praises make Eddie whimper.

“Please” he brings a shaky hand up to your face. You lean into him a touch. He was so sweet, so gentle, and you were about to ruin him.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you” you kiss the inside of his palm before giving it a teasing lick. A little preview to what you’re about to do his cock.

“Shit” Another whimper leaves his lips.

You spit into your palm before gently griping his cock with the right about of pressure. You stroke it once, twice, three times before dipping your head down to teasingly give the pink leaky head a few kitten licks, ease him into it.

You feel his wide hand spread across the back of your head lightly resting it there, not knowing what to do with it. Wanting to press your head further but he knew better than to do that.

“It’s ok Ed’s, you can touch me” you gazed up at him with puppy dog eyes as you dip your head lower so you can lick him from base to tip.

“Shit shit shit” Eddie could die right now. He was being so uncool but it didn’t matter because use you were making him feel so good. Oh god he can’t believe how warm and wet your tongue was and you hadn’t even started yet.

You finally dip your head down lower and lower until you take him as far as you could. You swirl your tongue around his thick long shaft, bobbing your head up and down slowly before speeding up.

Nope it was official, Eddie died and was in heaven. This was it, no way there could be something better than this. (Little does he know yes there is in fact, but you’ll show him another day )

He wasn’t going to last much longer, not with your magical mouth working his throbbing cock so good. His breath quickened as he tried holding off, he thought of puppies, grandmas, anything that was not the delicious feeling that you were serving to him.

“Baby baby baby” he panted as you glided your soft wet lips along his velvet skin of his shaft. Your mouth suctioned into home like a vice, coming up to the tip and swirling around and that’s what did it for Eddie.

“I’m cumingI’m cumingI’m cuming!” His stomach clenched his head popped up off the bed and the grip on the back of your head tightened, pulling your hair taught. You let his cum run down the back of your throat before licking up everything. You open your mouth showing him you’ve swallowed everything.

“Holy shit” Eddie flops back on the bed totally spent.

“You okay?” You giggle crawling up his chest before he latches his strong arms around you.

“If I ever say no to one of those ever, I give you permission to slap me ok”

You can’t help but giggle as Eddie peppers kisses all along your face.

“Thank you” he blushes.

“You think that’s fun baby? Just you wait” you wink.

[eddieandbird]

How Romantic—

You’re Corroded Coffin’s tour manager and you wake up realizing you drunkenly got married to Eddie the night before.

Part 2 | Part 3

tags/warnings: fluff | 2.7k words | f!reader | rockstar!Eddie | alcohol ment

———

Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary when you opened your eyes this morning. Your head was pounding, but you expected that after Corroded Coffin’s first show in Las Vegas. You went to rub the sleep out from your eyes but you winced in pain as you felt a small object scratch the corner of your eye.

“Ow! What the hell?” You hissed. You sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp.

A diamond ring sat on the third knuckle of your left hand, the sight causing you to flinch like it were a spider crawling up your leg.

“Eddie?” You shoved your sleeping client beside you. “Eddie, I think we did something really stupid last night,”

“What? Of course, we did! We’re rockstars, idiot,” He grumbled, rolling his shoulders to shake off your hand.

He attempted to roll over and fall back asleep, but this wasn’t a situation you could press the snooze button on. In a panic you pulled him up by his long hair, forcing him to sit up beside you.

“Hey!—“

“Eddie, shut up,” You said sternly, interrupting his whining. “Let me see your hands,”

You fumbled around to get a hold of them, light scratches exchanged between the both of you as you slapped each other like bickering children. Somehow you were able to catch his wrist, bringing his left hand closer to the light.

As you feared, he wore a gold band on his ring finger, with white diamonds that glistened, mocking you.

“Holy shit, no, no, no-” You cursed under your breath when you wanted to scream, but the ever-present headache prevented you from raising your voice.

Eddie flinched as you tugged at him, then chuckled when he caught the sight of his own ring.

“Looks like we got a matching set,” He said casually.

His expression didn’t change, leaving you utterly dumbfounded. You could tell he was not understanding the gravity of the situation at all.

“A matching set?— Eddie this isn’t some cute friendship bracelet thing!” You shook your head then forced his hand closer to his face like it could get him to understand.

Eddie wasn’t stupid by any means, but boy did he struggle to get the point sometimes. You knew to cut him some slack considering he was hungover just like you. However, you didn’t think you had to spell this all out for him.

Another moment passed before his eyes opened up fully. “Oh… OH!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, oh,” You sighed, relieved and irritated.

He studied his hand for a moment, tilting it in the light as he observed the jewels embedded into the gold.

“Oh wow, this is-” He mumbled to himself, his voice getting lost in a trail of thoughts.

He then went silent for a moment before suddenly grabbing your hand harshly, and yanking it into the light. “I bet yours is nicer, let me see,” He grumbled, his tone sounding almost jealous. It did nothing but work you up even more. You were unfortunately going to have to spell it out for him.

You flailed out of bed, ripping off the robe that hung on the lampshade, and covered yourself. The bewildered glare you gave Eddie only caused him to look more confused. You sighed and rubbed your aching head.

“I can’t believe I’m even explaining this to you right now,” You mumbled to yourself. You put your hands together and pointed the form at him. “Eddie, I think we got married last night,”

You hoped and prayed he would give you a different look, one that didn’t make you believe he didn’t even know his own name.

“You think? Or you know?” He countered, raising his eyebrows at you. “These rings could mean nothing, we just have to make sure,”

His expression was far more casual than it should’ve been. You didn’t know how much longer you would be able to stay patient, he was making your blood boil. He was treating this as if you were scolding him for showing up late to the gig.

As much as you wanted him to prove your theory wrong, you feared it wasn’t likely. Your eyes scanned the trashed hotel room for any other sign. To your dismay, there was a white dress tossed to the side of the bathroom. Disgust and regret painted your face as you lifted it. It was covered in red wine and smelled even worse.

“I think I found my wedding dress,” You gagged, holding it up to show Eddie.

You groaned as you just as quickly threw it back down on the floor.

Eddie’s smile wavered as he saw the state of your wedding dress. He suddenly looked nauseous as he observed the wine stains and messy wrinkles.

“We must’ve been super wasted last night,” He thought back to the night before, his mind desperately trying to recall any other details. “I can’t remember a damn thing after the first hour or so,” He said, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Yeah, no kidding,”

You examined the dress again from where you stood and bits and pieces of last night suddenly came back to you. The cheap rhinestones on it formed a pattern that haunted you.

The sight took you back to when Eddie and you stumbled downtown, giggling as you tried to keep each other upright. With one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady, he used the other to point out the ridiculously lit chapel you were passing by. A window peered into a showroom with a plethora of wedding dresses.

You let out a low whistle with your finger pointed at the glass. “Jeez what a dress, huh? Have you ever seen anything more gaudy?” You elbowed Eddie in the chest playfully.

You were too amused to see that he hardly gave that stupid dress more than one glance. He was too captivated by the way you looked underneath the twinkling lights.

“I dunno. I bet you’d make it look good,” Eddie slurred back, raising his eyebrows to fight his half-lidded eyes. His sudden suggestive tone took you aback. He was always crass and liked to push buttons, but never had he been this forward with you. You felt a strange flutter in the pit of your stomach that you had every intention of ignoring.

“Alright, buddy, I gotta get you back to the hotel. You’re too far gone if you’re imagining your manager in a wedding dress,” You hiccupped, trying to pry Eddie away from the chapel windows, but he was sturdy like a wall. You yelped as he pulled you by the wrist back into him.

“I think you should go in and try it on,” He whispered, his lips grazing your ear.

Shivers went down your spine, traveling down your body and convincing you it was a good idea. The sloshing liquor in your gut and the rasp of his voice was a dangerous combination. It created a switch inside your head that drained you of your professionalism, leaving only traits that would make you the woman of Eddie’s dreams. This included the boldness to slip your hand into his and say “Aw… Fuck it, why not? Let’s see how stupid it looks,”

Eddie hastily led you into the chapel, walking through the doorway and into the showroom full of gowns. The two of you were greeted by a bored employee who couldn’t look less interested in her job, but somehow had the energy to sneer at the both of you. You only took it as a sign that you should try on the stupid dress if only to spite that miserable lady at the front desk.

Just as you were joking about before, you took the gown that sat in the window and brought it with you to the fitting room. It was way too ornate and flashy for your taste, but you had the itch to try it on to humor Eddie’s curiosity. One outfit change later and you came out, propped up against the doorframe with a hand on your hip. Despite your slightly pained expression, you glittered beautifully in the dress.

“Okay I’m pretty sure this thing is a size too small because I can hardly breathe, but here it is. Happy now, Munson?” You gave an ironic smile.

You expected Eddie to laugh along with you, maybe even make a few digs at how awful the get-up was, but he didn’t. Instead, he stared at you slack-jawed. You had brought an entire galaxy to his hazy eyes. His pupils dilated with desire as he took a few sudden strides toward you.

“There is no way you’re actually making that dress look good,” He muttered in disbelief, pawing at your hips.

Eddie dragged his fingertips along your jawline, gently pushing your hair behind the shoulders. He took a step back to admire the skin around your neck that he just exposed. Your silhouette was being squeezed into the fabric and hardly left anything to the imagination. There was really no stopping Eddie now. With an uncoordinated tug, your body was pressed to his.

“What are you doing?” You asked him like he was a toddler getting caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. Delirious giggles rang out of you as half-heartedly pushed him.

“Taking my bride to the altar, duh,” Eddie leaned in, his lips tickling the nape of your neck. He spoke in that false innocent tone that you knew was laced with devious intentions. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his feather-like touches.

“You’re gonna marry me, right, princess?” His silky voice was incredibly inviting in the state you were in.

“I um- well m-” You stuttered. You could hardly stand straight, let alone answer his question properly. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought. C’mon, sweetheart, you’re mine now,” He triumphantly laughed.

The receptionist’s eyes widened in complete shock as Eddie suddenly picked you up off the floor. He began walking back out the door, carrying you like a damsel in distress. Your giggling, mixed with the employee’s confused protesting was the only noise heard through the room.

Eddie barreled down the aisle of the chapel. He laughed with misplaced enthusiasm as you both stumbled closer and closer toward the pastor waiting at the end of the aisle.

You couldn’t bear to remember anything beyond that. A full-body shiver came over you as you snapped out of the memory of the night before. You couldn’t hear anything for a moment over the pounding of your heart in your ears. Your mind couldn’t wrap around Eddie and you sharing a moment so intimate and unfortunately so permanent.

“Oh, right… that’s what happened,” His voice pulled your attention back to him.

As he laid his eyes upon the dress, it repeated the events to him in his mind. He was tempted to brag about how steady he kept you in his arms even while he wasted, but he bit his tongue, knowing you’d probably snap at him again.

As the realization hit Eddie, he felt overwhelmed with emotion. Part of him couldn’t believe that the both of him had gotten married so recklessly, but another part felt a strange fluttering in his chest.

“Yeah, how romantic,” You groaned, limping to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face.

Eddie followed after you, leaning against the bathroom door frame.

“You um- You’re not thinking of breaking all this off right?” he asked timidly.

As if this morning couldn’t get any more insane, of course, he had to ask you that. You shot a glare in the mirror reflection for a moment before whipping around with your arms folded.

“Munson… What the hell are you saying?” Although the message was harsh, your tone had no bite to it. You sounded much more confused than upset at this moment. You didn’t want to believe that he was genuinely considering remaining married to you.

“Hear me out,” He set his hands out, gesturing you to stop whatever angry rant you wished to go on. “Maybe this doesn’t have to be the worst thing that could happen to us,”

“What do you mean?”

“I doubt that we weren’t spotted in that chapel. If we’re lucky we have until the afternoon before we see headlines about Corroded Coffin’s main guitarist and his manager getting hitched in Vegas,” He scrunched his nose and shook a hand through his tangled hair.

There goes your deer-in-headlights look again. “God, I really am an idiot! How did I not think of that? I-”

Eddie pressed a finger to your lips, promptly shutting you up. “Yeah, yeah, you’re the tortured manager of our band, we get it. But hey, just stay with me,” He dismissed your spiral before it could even happen. He swept you up similar to how he did last night, but this time to sit you down on the bathroom counter.

“What if we just stayed married for a little while?” He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Think about it. All that press Corroded Coffin would get over something like this. We’d be a household name! It’s kind of genius,” With his hands caging you into your spot on the counter, he smiled proudly at you as he explained what he had in mind.

He could see your mind racing behind your eyes, clearly contemplating the logistics of getting media attention out of this. He leaned closer to you, keeping you to the counter. He placed his hands on either side of your thighs.

“I know you hate the attention,” He continued softly, looking at you with puppy dog eyes. “But this is a good idea. We have to capitalize on our screw-up... For the band of course.”

A choked exhale escaped you before you set your head in your hands for a moment. Your mind drew up a montage of all the disapproving faces you’d have to explain this to, all the uncomfortable interviews you’d have to speak in, and all the death threats made by Corroded Coffin’s fans to you.

“Do I really have a choice in all this?” You mumbled through the spaces in between your fingers.

Eddie flashed a wry smile. “I guess not,” he teasingly held up his ring finger as if he was flipping you off. “Bottom line, when we walk out of this hotel, we are officially husband and wife. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want this to make the rest of the tour miserable. So you can either mope around the bus for the next two months and have more rumors spread in your absence, or you can hold your head up high and make a spectacle of our marriage for the sake of the band,”

Eddie’s grin grew wider as he saw the exhaustion creeping onto your face. He knew exactly how much you hated the attention, but he also knew that you cared just as much about the success of Corroded Coffin. He leaned closer to you, his body now almost completely pressed against yours.

“I don’t like either of those options, just throw me off the balcony and be done with it,” You dramatically huffed and smacked your head on his shoulder. He snorted at your reaction.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” he taunted, his fingers gripping your thighs in a tight but affectionate grip. “Where’s that infamous strength of yours, huh? What happened to the badass manager that keeps us in line?”

You gave him the weakest glare you had yet. He was right about one thing: you cared about Corroded Coffin more than anything else. It was time to step up and do what you had to for them, for Eddie.

“Alright!” You blurted out. “Fine, let’s do this, but as soon as tour is over, we get a quiet divorce and we move on like nothing ever happened,”

“Yeah, totally, for sure,” Eddie nodded his head half-convincingly, then lightly smacked your leg with approval. He was beaming, looking forward to all the fun he was about to have with you. “Alright, get all dolled up for brunch, I’m starving. It’s time for your grand debut, Mrs. Munson,”

“Hey, I never agreed on changing my name!” you whined, pushing Eddie off of you to get down from the counter.

Eddie chuckled as you suddenly stood up from the counter.

“Well get used to it, because I’m going to keep calling you that,” he teased. “You’re officially stuck with me now, Mrs. Munson,”

[sturniqlo]

HERE TO STAY FOREVER- CHRIS STURN

summary: when chris starts to turn cold towards his best friend, y/n, she thinks the worst. what happens when she starts to back off and chris is desperate to hangout with her and confesses something?

cw: slight angst, cursing, commitment issues, fluff

an: i've been OBSESSED with bff!chris lately so here's more!! | thank you to @monroesturnns for the idea💋

masterlist

-----------------------------------------------

Chris and Y/n have been best friends now for about four years now. As they spent more and more time together, Chris started to feel different about her. Not in a bad way, never that. Just different.

He started to picture a future with her. An, eternity with her. And it scared him, it really did. He's never felt like this towards anyone. Yeah he's has a few girlfriends here and there but, he never saw a future with them. It scared him that he saw forever with her and they weren't even dating.

Unfortunately, something in his mind told him to turn cold towards her. She doesn't like you back, she never will. He tossed and turned in his bed, trying to fall asleep. She needs someone better, you aren't it for her. He groaned, throwing the comforter off of himself and getting up. He goes up to the kitchen and serves him a glass of water, placing it quietly in the sink.

Getting back in bed, his phone buzzes on his nightstand. He picks it up and sees a message from no one other than Y/n. hey chris, sorry if you're sleeping already but are we still on for tomorrow night? They had planned on going to a fancy dinner. Someone they always joked about, dressing to super fancy and join the rich snobby people at a fancy restaurant. They'd been saving a good amount from their paychecks. sure, hopefully you aren't getting any cold feet about it? i was looking at the menu and holy shit is all i have to say. He types back. no cold feet at all, i'll see you tomorrow! goodnight:))

Her messages somehow gave him hope and he was able to sleep.

Over the next two weeks, Y/n has been getting treated differently by Chris. Whenever they hangout, he's quieter than usual and moody. It would hurt her from time to time when he would snap at her for something so simple. Chris never snapped at her.

Even his brothers noticed it. "Chris, why are you being so mean to Y/n?" Matt said once he heard the bathroom door closing signaling Y/n couldn't hear. "No I'm not?" He scoffed, opening the fridge to grab the leftovers from yesterday's dinner their mom had cooked. "Uh, yeah you are." Nick says next to Matt. "She's been telling me how you snap at her all the time. And five minutes ago you literally bumped her shoulder and didn't say sorry. I'd say you are being pretty fucking rude."

"Why the hell is she even texting you?" Chris says, retrieving the plate from the microwave. "If I remember correctly, she's everyone's friend, not just yours. You know what? I thought you had feelings for her." As Chris was about to respond, they all heard the bathroom door opening and he shut his mouth.

The following Friday, Y/n went over their house per Chris' request. It had been about an hour and Chris had spoken no more than ten words to her. She was feeling unwanted. She felt awkward and uncomfortable at the shift in his mood. "I- I think I'm going to head out." She broke the silence. "So soon?" Chris' heart dropped and he shut his phone off. "Yeah, my mom she- uh she needs some help with something." She waved her phone. "Oh, okay. I'll walk you out." She nodded and walked toward his room door.

Chris walked her down to the door and wanted to phone her mom and tell her if Y/n can stay for longer. "I'll see you around." She goes for a full hug but Chris only gives her a side hug. Her heart stung for a second. "Okay." He cleared his throat, shutting the door once she went down the steps.

"Y/n is gone already?" Both Nick and Matt magically appeared in the kitchen, snacking on the chips they had bought the other day. "Yep, I feel like shit though." He groans into Matt's shoulder. "What up, Kid?" Matt pats his back. "You guys were right, I've been such a shit best friend to Y/n."

"We've been telling you." Nick says from the sink. "I thought you had like major feelings for her." Matt looks at him. "That's what I said last time," Nick throws his hands up. "what happened to said feelings?" Nick adds on, he knew how much his brother had feelings for their friend Y/n. "Fine," He pauses before continuing. "I like her, but I cant help but act like such a bitch to her. I'm- I'm scared to tell her." He walks to the fridge to retrieve a can of pepsi.

"Scared of what?!" Nick yells, his eyes widen in disbelief. "Commitment? Rejection? It's all over the place!" He opens the blue can. "Have you seen how she looks at you? Her eyes turn into fucking heart anytime she looks at you. I doubt she'll reject you." Matt nods at Nick's words. "As for your commitment issues, you guys can take it easy, or you guys can be exclusive for sometime. It's up to you two."

The following week, Chris has noticed a change in Y/n's behavior. Something that has never happened. hi, do you want to hangout tonight? Chris waited patiently with his phone in his hands. The three familiar dots popped up before disappearing for a couple of seconds and popped up again. sorry, i can't tonight. Chris sighed. It was the third time this week she had said no to hanging out and it was only tuesday.

oh okay. tomorrow maybe? He replied. maybe He turned off his phone and threw himself back. "What is going on!" He rubs his face.

It was now Friday and they were finally hanging out together. Chris had managed to finally get some of Y/n's time. However, Y/n was home all week. She felt so guilty turning Chris' hangouts down while she was in bed thinking about Chris' cold behavior. She took some time to think and finally decided it was time to come out of hiding.

"Hey, get over here!" Chris said, grabbing Y/n by her waist pulling her towards him. "Oh- are you sure?" She's startled by Chris' sudden touch, something she hasn't felt in over three weeks. "Of course. I missed you this week, you know?" He kisses her cheek. "Sorry, I was uh- busy?" She stutters. "Why're you questioning it?" He giggles against her shoulder. "I wasn't actually busy. I was giving you space."

"Space? From what?" He pulls back. "I just- I thought- you were being so cold to me I thought you wanted some space. Thought you were getting tired of me or- or maybe you were talking to someone. I wasn't sure." She shrugs, playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. Chris grabs her and places her on his lap. "Hey, listen. I have to tell you something." She nodded at him.

"I'm sorry, about my behavior. I just- I- I love you. And, I was to- I was too scared to admit it. N' I thought if I were to I don't know. Mean? Cold? That my feelings were to go away. But I realized that they're never going to leave. They're here to stay forever. I love you, Y/n." At this point, Y/n is in tears. She's waited so long for Chris to admit something like this.

She knows how much his commitment issues have gotten away in the past. "What?" She says through a teary laugh. "I love you, Y/n. I fucking love you." He smiles and grabs her face to kiss her. Chris hesitantly leans his face towards hers and Y/n grabs the back of his head and locks their lips together.

"Mmph." He huffs in relief and grabs her jaw lightly. They finally let go of each other once they're out of breath. "I've been waiting so long to do that." He places one chaste kiss to her lips. "Me too." She moves the hair out of his face, staring at him with a smile. "I take it you feel the same way." He giggles. "Of course I do." She kisses the tip of his nose.

"I love you, Chris."