#thank you all for your patience angels ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saintkaylaa · 28 days ago

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𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 🩸

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 4.4k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐚𝐮, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐮 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Kinktober 2024 || I know it’s late! But better late than never right👻 Thank you all for your patience and understanding! Especially after skipping 2 fics😭 but I think for my first kinktober I didn’t do too shabby (I hope). Thank you to my beta readers as always🤍 ART by aransmind on X

𝐈 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬

“Should we have a safe word?”

“What, are you scared?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you ran down a hallway. The loud creaky floorboards drowned out by the deafening buzzing trailing behind your every step.

Damn your boyfriend and his unlimited amount of curses.

Suguru had been chasing you around this dusty abandoned house for 20 minutes now. He managed to surprise you with what seemed like an unlimited amount of 3 and 4 grade level curses to slow you down. But it didn’t slow you down much; you were a special grade sorcerer too. Despite the rules of this game being that you could only use a cursed tool to defend yourself or exorcise curses.

Only now, as the swarm of fly heads chased you down the hallway with only a cursed blade, you wondered if maybe you were playing into Suguru’s plan by catching you at the end of the hall. The thought of him there waiting to pounce on you did much to remind you of the burning ache that begged for attention since you two had started this little chase.

But no, you couldn’t give up now. Not after 20 minutes, and the aphrodisiac that you and Suguru had taken together were barely kicking in. You were only just starting to feel that familiar neediness at your core, and you wondered if Suguru was beginning to get just as horny as you were.

You see the corner coming up, and you take a quick glance back at the fly heads chasing after you. Seeing them even closer on your heels than before, but you didn’t want to get caught just yet. So in the last second, you hit the floor to let the fly heads continue to fly over your head—successfully avoiding them.

“Damn it.” You hear a low, skin-prickling inducing voice grumble out, and you knew your hunch had been right. You laugh, sitting up on your heels as Suguru rounded the corner. He stepped out from the shadows, his Ghost Face mask strapped to the side of his face gleamed in the dim light filtering through the dusty windows. His expression was mostly neutral, but his gaze was piercing.

Suguru stalked forward, his movements slow and deliberate, almost predatory.

“Impressive," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But you can't run forever, angel."

He stopped short a foot away, looking down at you. “You know, when you suggested this, I thought you were crazy," he continued, his gaze raking over your form appreciatively.

"But now I’m thinking that I must be even crazier to understand the thrill."

He paused, tilting his head as if considering his next move. "You and I are a match made in hell.”

Suguru took another step forward and bent down to your level, his hand reaching out as if to caress your cheek. "How long do you think you will keep this up?"

You batted his hand away, not missing the clench in his jaw despite the smirk on his face. You knew how badly he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You grinned, taking the fabric of his black shirt and pulling him closer. He bites his lip in anticipation, his lust-filled violet eyes dropping to your mouth and back up half-lidded.

Oh yeah, he was definitely feeling the effects of the aphrodisiac now.

You didn’t get a chance to see if he was hard when he was stalking towards you, but by the way he was looking at you, and the way he was breathing rather unsteadily right now told you that he wanted you. He needed you.

“If you want me that badly,” your lips graze over his. The cinnamon smell of his breath coaxing you in like he was putting a spell on you. You wanted to taste the inside of his mouth.

“You’re going to have to catch me first. Those are the rules, Suguru.”

He didn’t have time to react before you pulled at his shirt again and slammed him against the wall beside you. Moving him out of your way so that you could make a run for it.

Suguru grunted, bracing himself as he watched you disappear around the corner he had just emerged from. And on any normal day, you wouldn’t have gotten away with that. He was never that slow to react, and he was almost always quick to action in any situation. But the aphrodisiac was making it harder to focus, his mind clouded with thoughts of sinking deep into your pussy, feeling you wrap around him like a glove; and with a girlfriend like you, he was doomed from the start.

Suguru groaned as he palmed himself through his pants, his head thudding against the wall and finding a weak respite in that. Imagining that you kissed him just then and allowed him to fuck you right into these creaky floorboards instead of manhandling him out of your way.

He shook his head while getting up, trying to clear the fog and regain control. He needed to plan out how to end this frustrating cat-and-mouse game so that he could claim victor and then claim your pussy as reward. He couldn't let his lust consume him completely, not yet.

Suguru began to conjure more curses, his fingers weaving patterns in the air as he summoned a horde of Grade 3 curses. Spider-like creatures materialized before him, their forms twisting and writhing with malevolent intent.

"Let's see how long you can keep running, baby," he murmured, sending the curses scurrying down the hall after you. He followed at a more leisurely pace, knowing this would all be over soon.

As he closed in on the door that ended the next hallway, he paused, his footsteps getting lighter and more cautious. A smirk tugged at his lips as he spotted the faint disruption of dust motes at the bottom of the door; he knew where you were hiding.

Perfect.

Your heart raced as you entered the library. Your footsteps are light and careful not to give yourself away by the old, noisy floorboards. It was dark and dusty, with the only illumination being the pale white rays of the moon bleeding in from the large circled window at the end of the room. You took in the half-empty library quickly to look for a place to hide, before whatever curses Suguru had conjured up found you—or Suguru himself. Which admittedly you wanted; yes, that was the whole objective of this thrilling game, but you at least wanted to make him work for it. Really work for it. Really prove that you were just as good of a special-grade sorcerer as he was.

You quickly found a spot in the darkest corner of the room, crouching down next to the tattered loveseat and beat-up crates. Hopefully by hiding, you could wait him out until he got so hard and frustrated that he would beg you to end the game and get what you both wanted. Fuck, just the thought of it sent a heat down your pussy. Your thighs clenched in response.

Not a moment later, Suguru was entering the library, pushing open the creaky door, his eyes quickly scanning the shadows. He could sense your presence and feel the way the air seemed to vibrate with your energy.

"I know you're in here, angel," he purred, his voice echoing.

He began to circle the room, his footsteps slow and deliberate. The aphrodisiac was really kicking in now, his body thrumming with need, his cock straining against the confines of his pants at the thought of finally catching you.

As he neared the corner where you were hiding, he felt a shift in the air, a subtle change in the energy around him. As if both your cursed energies were pushing and pulling at each other.

"I can feel you, baby," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous.

He took another step, his senses on high alert, ready to pounce the moment he laid eyes on you. The game was nearly over, and soon he would have his prize. Suguru's gaze swept over the shadows, searching for any telltale sign of movement. He knew you were watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Or rather, a perfect moment to make your escape.

You watched him move closer and closer. Each step he took inducing more and more tension. If you timed this right, you could ambush him with the loveseat and make a run for the door. You waited and waited for what felt like forever; by now he must have known exactly where you were and was waiting for you to make a move. So when he was closest to the shelves, like he was about to move behind the loveseat, you sprung up. You pushed the chair his way to try and barricade him against the shelves. He cursed, bringing his arms up to shield himself. And you took that moment to run, but Suguru was much faster, and with a flick of his wrist, he commanded his curses to block you in. You tried to exorcise them, taking a swing at the spiders a few times before Suguru came up behind you, knocking the cursed blade out of your hands.

You were cornered now. With the spider-looking curses surrounding you, the cursed blade knocked out of your hand, and the loveseat behind you, this was it.

Damn, you couldn’t even last an hour.

All that was left now was to see how long you both would last until the inevitable climax consumed you two together.

He was backing you towards the loveseat. Suguru’s grin grew wider at what putting you in the loveseat could entail. Eating your pussy, fucking you into the seat, fucking your throat, or even making you ride him until he was nothing but a fucked-out mess on the seat. The possibilities were torturous to think about.

“This was too easy.” Suguru hums, and with a snap of his fingers, web after web is tying your hands together and then lifting them over your head with a wave of his hand. You struggle some, but you accept rather instantly that you’ve been beat, and so you let everything just happen.

In the next moment you’re yanked back, your arms pulling back first and then your body, and you land roughly into the loveseat. The chair slides against the floor with a loud screech, and dust flies everywhere.

Suguru's breath hitches as he looms over you, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice rough with need. "All tied up for me, begging to be eaten."

His other hand trails down your body, skimming over the curves he knew so well, the ones he'd explored countless times before. But this time, everything felt heightened, magnified, as if he were feeling you for the first time.

Suguru leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "I'm going to devour you, angel," he whispered, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

"And then I'm going to fuck you so hard, so deep, that you'll feel me for days."

His hand slid lower, his fingers teasing along the waistband of your pants. "Is that what you want, baby?"

You stay silent. You were still partly upset that you lost this quickly, and the other part—more importantly— his touch was rendering you speechless. Your skin felt prickly under his touch—needy. Your eyes locked intensely on his, making you want to whine just by the way he was looking at you.

His fingers rested against your stomach, lightly pinning you in place.

"Do you want me to touch you?” He asks, his fingers trailing up slowly and with a little more pressure. You squirm the tiniest bit as he gets closer to one of your tits. But, when he notices that you’re purposely trying to contain your noises, he does something absolutely diabolical.

He takes his knee and knocks your legs further apart so that he could slot his knee right against your pussy. He pushes against you and presses against your clit in the most delicious way. Your head slumps back, and your mouth falls open to sigh in blissful relief.

Suguru's eyes darkened watching all of your reactions to his touch—the way your body squirmed and writhed beneath him. He could feel the heat of your pussy through the fabric of both your clothing.

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. "Do I make you feel good?" He asked, his voice low and seductive.

Without waiting for your response, he slid his hand up your body again, his fingers grazing over the soft curve of your breast. Feeling your nipple hardening beneath the thin fabric of your shirt. Your breath hitches as he brushes against it—circling it slowly.

Suguru's other hand moves lower, his fingers teasing along the hem of your pants.

"How wet do you think you are right now?" He asked, his knee pressing harder against your pussy. When you make a whimpering sound he looks back up at you. "You're dripping, aren't you? Soaking right through your panties.”

He grounds his knee against your clit, reveling in the way your hips buck up against him, seeking more friction. "That's it, angel," he murmured, his own arousal throbbing insistently against his zipper.

His fingers then dip beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers sliding down your stomach with pressure until he reaches your pussy. His touch gets light and brushes against the sticky heat of your folds.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "I want to taste you so fucking bad." He’s so close now, nipping at your neck and lightly sucking marks across your collar. “I want you to cum on my tongue.”

He teases your pussy for what feels like forever. Just rubbing and petting your lips and smearing your slick all over, purposely ignoring your clit, while he pulls whine after whine out of you. He knows he’s torturing you; that’s exactly what he wanted for evading him for as long as you did.

“Suguru…” you say breathlessly, trying hard to focus on what you wanted to say. But with your hands still tightly bound and high above your head, and Suguru now biting your overly sensitive nipples through your top, while his fingers pet your weeping pussy…

Wait, fuck, you lost your train of thought.

“Suguru.” You say a little louder when you inhale a breath. He hums, using his other hand to pull your top up slowly. You watch him as his violet eyes travel up your body as he pulls your top over your tits and tucks the fabric into your mouth. Gagging you.

“You lost, angel. No use in protesting.” He smirks, eyes half-lidded and looking at you with such chilling intensity that you half think he’s about to actually devour you. The ghost face mask hanging loosely to the side of his face does little to unconvince you of that thought.

There’s a stretch of silence that passes between you two, thick and heavy with primal energy. You wait; your heavy breath is the only thing audible since gagging you. And Suguru just stares at you with a shit eating grin that tells you that he’s enjoying this way too much.

Fuck him.

After a few minutes, his hands move to your pants as he starts unbuckling them slowly—his eyes never leaving yours. In fact, they gleam at the sight of you spread out for him when he adjusts your legs. Your top pulled up to gag you, your pants still partially on. With deliberate slowness, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and begins to tug them down, inch by excruciating inch. He watches your face the whole time, drinking in every furrow of your brows, every squint of your eyes, and every whimper that escapes you and muffles into the fabric of your shirt.

Once your pants are off, he tosses them aside carelessly, his gaze roaming over your bare pussy, glistening and sticky.

"Look at you," he purrs, his voice rough with lust. "So wet, so ready for me."

Suguru settles himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he leans in. Spreading you open, he starts at your inner thighs, placing soft, wet, open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin, working his way up to your pussy, his hot breath fanning against your heat.

When he reaches your folds, your body tenses when you see his tongue lull out, getting closer and then giving your pussy a teasing lick. The sensation makes you involuntarily buck your hips closer to him, wanting his tongue deeper.

"Mmm, you always taste so fucking good," he rasps, giving you one last look before diving in, his tongue delving deeper into you just like you wanted. A loud but muffled sound erupts out of you.

He laps at you furiously, his tongue swirling around your clit—alternating between circles and side to side, with each motion. Each movement was building that pressure closer to climax. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting your legs up and close to your chest, grunting as he manhandles you. Then he flattens his tongue against you with a few sloppy licks up the length of your pussy, and your vision blurs from the feeling.

You were dizzy from the sensory overload and the supersensitivity that was resulting from the aphrodisiac still swirling inside you. God, his tongue felt so good, so hot, and hungry. You pull at the binds at your wrist, wanting nothing more than to push your boyfriend’s face deeper into you. Wishing you could ride his face right over the edge.

Suguru’s cock hurt so bad; he was so fucking desperate to plunge himself so deep inside you that one wouldn't begin to know where your body started and his ended. But not yet; he had to hold himself together long enough to show you how much of a loser you actually were.

Suguru brought his arm up to wedge his forearm under your knees so that his free hand could join his mouth. Two fingers slipping inside you, curling against that spot that made you see stars. He pumped them in and out almost immediately, his tongue never stopping its relentless assault on your clit. His brows furrowing with determination, ready to push you over the edge and drink every last drop. He could feel you getting closer; he could feel the way your body tensed, your pussy clenching around his fingers, wishing it was his thick, fat cock that your pussy was so used to. Fuck, he knew you were ready to come.

Shit, you could feel it.

Pushing the makeshift gag out of your mouth, you moaned out his name, “S-Suguru. Suguru, fuck, I’m so close!”

He goes faster. Fucking you with his fingers harder. And the sounds your pussy and his mouth make together echoes off the walls of the library. It was so filthy.

“Fuckfuckfuck, baby, I’m right there!” Your body stiffens against him as you feel yourself slipping into a mind-numbing orgasm. But then suddenly he stops, and slaps your pussy hard, and the wet, sticky sound it makes is nasty.

You yell and whine and curse at him for ripping you away from cumming. When you spread your thighs apart to get a good look at him, he’s grinning, his lips swollen and shiny with all your juices. You want to kick him in the face.

“Untie me right now so I can beat the shit out of you!” You yell with genuine anger, and he laughs, sitting back on his heels and letting your legs fall back down. It was a heady feeling, knowing he had this much power over you, that he could reduce you to a writhing, desperate mess. He knew what he did and wanted you to know it too.

“That’s what you get for earlier.” He says, moving to stand up.

Fuck, he’s so damn hard that if he wasn’t wearing black pants, you’d probably be able to see the giant wet spot of his precum staining the front.

He stepped closer, towering over your bound form, his erection straining against his pants. "You’re really in no position to make demands..." He licks his lips, savoring the memory of your taste.

You furrow your brows and your expression is full of bitter indignation.

Suguru then leans in, his lips brushing against yours. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Forgive me, and I'll make it up to you. I'll give you what you need. I'll make you cum so hard, you'll forget all about being mad at me."

To prove his point, he captured your lips in a searing kiss before you could think to respond. His tongue meets yours deep, claiming your mouth as thoroughly as he planned to claim your pussy. It felt like he was sucking out all the air out of you, and all you could taste was yourself on his tongue.

When he finally pulled back, Suguru's eyes were dark with lust, his pupils blown wide—surely mirroring yours.

"Ride me," he commanded, his voice rough and grabbing your face roughly.

With that, he unties you himself. Taking the discarded blade off the floor to slice through the webs binding your hands. Your arms move in tandem with his, wrapping around his neck as his encloses around you. He lifts you up and pulls you flush against his chest so he can swap positions over the loveseat. He sat down, straddling you over his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

Suguru's hands gripped your waist, keeping you up right so that he could hastily free his cock for you. "Take me, baby," he pleaded, violet eyes locked on yours.

You hesitate for a moment, fighting the urge to deny him, and think to give him a taste of his own medicine. But when you see how red and painful his cock looks, you're reminded of how badly you also want to cum. So you fuck all your reservations to hell and slowly lower your pussy onto him.

Uniform moans fall out of both of you over rightfully connecting the way your bodies have been wanting to all night. In that moment, the game, the chase—this whole thing didn’t even matter anymore because all you both wanted to do was fuck each other.

“Fuuuck baby, I’m so horny.” Suguru says quickly through a hiss and you almost miss it. And he’s gripping onto you so tight, holding you so close against him that you feel like you’re one person. Being inside you felt like coming home, like finding a piece of himself he hadn't even known was missing.

He rolled his hips up to meet yours, driving himself deeper inside, stretching you, filling you in a way that made you both see stars. Suguru's head fell back against the loveseat, his eyes squeezing shut as he lost himself in the sensation of you, the way your walls welcomed him, the way your nails dug into his shoulders.

He says your name, and you're pulled out of your haze. “Use me." Grits through his teeth, his voice strained with pleasure.

His hands slide up your body, and under your bra to cup your tits, kneading them tenderly. He could feel your nipples pebbling against his palms; he could hear the catch in your breath as he pinched and rolled them between his fingers.

Your hips snapped down, fucking yourself so hard and fast that the loveseat began creaking beneath you. And he’s moaning with you, his cock so goddamn sensitive he could already feel his release building. The tension coiling tighter and tighter in his belly, but he held back, determined to bring you over with him.

"That's it, baby," he panted, his head leaned back against the chair, his eyes looking up at you with awe. "Come all over my cock."

Suguru could feel your body tensing; he could feel the way your muscles quivered and twitched as you also neared your orgasm. He redoubled his efforts, his hips pistoning up to meet you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made you let out cries that bordered pornographic.

"Come on, angel," he urged, his voice rough with desperation.

His hands slid down to grip your ass, his fingers digging into your fat as he guided your movements, helping you to grind down onto him to take him deeper. This was it. He could feel his release fast approaching; he could feel the base of his spine tingling, his balls drawing up tight.

"Fuck, I'm close," he growls, his teeth gritted against the onslaught of sensation. "Come with me, please."

The only thing you could do was nod furiously, wrapping your arms around his neck, and tangling your fingers into his long, dark hair—preparing for an earth-shattering orgasm. Suguru captured your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries while you both came together. Then you shattered, your pussy clamping down around him with a broken cry of his name. The rhythmic flutter of your walls was his undoing, and with a hoarse shout, he followed you over the edge, spilling himself deep inside you.

You two stayed collapsed and melted into the loveseat for what felt like hours, joined, connected, your bodies still coming down from the aftershocks. Suguru's arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his forehead resting against your shoulder and peppering it with kisses. Your body felt like it was floating.

"I can’t feel my body," he chuckles, his voice husky with satisfaction.

You hummed, shifting slightly so that you could press a soft kiss to his lips, a tender gesture that contrasted the carnal sex you just had. "Yea, losing has never felt this good.”

He laughs, shifting to one side so he could pluck his ghost face mask that had fallen in between the cushions. It’s face was smooshed and warped. Suguru began to put it back on when you stopped him. Making a weird face and shaking your head, making him chuckle.

“What? I thought this was your favorite scary movie.”

ᯓ★𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

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moonstruckme · 22 days ago

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hi maeeee!! can i request a poly! marauders where maybe reader is fighting with only one them and the others are shocked when they find out and try their very best to fix it even though things are quite tense? thanks maeeeee ilyyyy💐💐💐

Thanks for your patience with this one angel! It's not as angsty as I planned when I started writing it, but I hope you enjoy it <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

It’s James who finds you this time. You’re curled up in a corner of the couch, pretending to read whilst secretly feeling sorry for yourself. Your boyfriend sits next to you, touching your shoulder so that you turn to him for a kiss.

“Still upset?” he asks after a peck.

You ignore the complicated, knotty feeling that makes itself known in your chest. “Not at you.”

“No, I know.” James smiles a little, gifting you another kiss. “I’d be coming in here with my tail between my legs if you were. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of either you or Rem’s wrath.”

You stay quiet. You wouldn’t go so far as to call what you’re feeling wrath—that seems a tad dramatic to describe the low flame of vexation you’ve been burning for your tallest boyfriend—but you don’t feel like opening yourself up to the subject with James. You’ve already heard it from Sirius this morning.

“Angel.” James gives your shoulder a cajoling squeeze. “Come on, when are the two of you going to get past this? It’s very awkward sleeping in the same bed with two people who are quarreling, you know.”

“We sleep exactly the same as every other night.”

“There’s underlying tension,” he counters lightly. You roll your eyes, and James laughs. “Oi, don’t get cross with me now, too. I’m just telling you about my lived experience.” He leans his head on your shoulder, all sweetness and treachery. “You’re really not gonna forgive him? You know he’s gonna stick you with Sirius in the divorce.”

You huff a laugh. James grins up at you hopefully. You know there’s some sense to what he’s saying; one of you has to be the bigger person eventually. It had started small, a stupid disagreement, but you and Remus are each stubborn and petty enough to not want to admit where you were wrong. Now you’re more angry with him for being angry with you than for anything else.

When you think of his coldness to you—never mind the fact that you’ve been cold to him in turn—that flame of vexation burns a little brighter.

“I don’t know why you’re over here trying to convince me,” you tell James. “I won’t have any problem forgiving him if he actually apologizes.”

James sighs. You look down at your book to avoid his disappointment.

“Okay, then. But he does feel really bad, so you know. He’s in the bedroom with one of his headaches, and he asked if you were still upset with him.” You look up. James levels you with a weighted look. “Could probably really use a cuddle, if you two were on good terms.”

James is at least only somewhat smug when you abandon your book to go to the bedroom. You pass Sirius in the hall, who gives you a smile and a firm peck on the lips, likely having just left Remus himself. You enter the bedroom expecting to see the curtains drawn, lights off, and your poorly boyfriend in bed, but instead Remus is standing, well lit by the daylight streaming in through the windows, book tented on the bed still made from this morning. He appears as though he was just on his way out.

“Erm, hi,” he says, brows pulled together in the middle. He looks to be studying you. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you answer, bemused. “Are…are you?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

The door clicks shut behind you. You startle at the sound, not having closed it yourself. Then, you watch as a resigned sort of irritation comes over Remus’ features at the same time as it settles into you.

“Pricks.” He moves past you to the door, jiggling the handle. “It only locks from the inside, you twats.”

“Love you too,” comes Sirius’ voice. “You can come out after you kiss and make up.”

“And say you’re sorry!” adds James.

Remus scowls.

“Open it,” you tell him.

“What do you think I’m trying to do? One of them is holding it shut.”

“Let me try.”

“Be my guest.” Remus steps back, letting you have a go at the handle. By putting everything you have into it you manage to twist it, but you can’t get it open even an inch.

“Don’t hurt yourself, gorgeous.” Sirius sounds smug enough to make your face feel hot. “James is holding it on the other side here, a few more minutes and you’ll make him break a sweat.”

You let go of the handle with a huff, turning and stalking towards the bedroom window. You start moving the desk out of your way.

“Would you really rather climb out the window than be in a room with me?” asks Remus. You look over your shoulder, and he’s sitting on the bed, side-eyeing you with his back propped against the pillows.

“It’s not about you.” You shove your hip into the desk, budging it enough for you to get at the window latch. “They lied and made me feel all guilty just so they could lock us in here.”

“What’d they tell you?”

You try to get your fingernail behind the latch. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sirius had me thinking you were quite upset.”

“Yeah, and probably that I was asking after you, right? James told me you had a bad headache.”

A chuckle. “That was enough to make you come in here looking so flustered?”

“My mistake,” you huff, but it turns to a short whimper when your nail breaks. “Christ, you’d think they’d make these easier to open. What if there was a fire?”

“Don’t go out the window,” Remus says calmly. “You’ll ruin your tights.”

You work another nail behind the latch. “I can’t just let them win.”

“Mm. That’s a bit of a problem for you, is it?”

A bitter coolness settles over you. You turn, crossing your arms. “Something to say?”

Remus picks up his book, cornering a page. “Just making an observation, is all.”

“Remus,” you say sternly. “Don’t act like you’re any better. You could’ve apologized at any time.”

Your boyfriend levels you with a look. “Would that really have made a difference?”

“Yes!”

“Honestly?” He looks like he doesn’t believe you. “All I have to do is say I’m sorry, and you’ll forget about all of this and be completely happy with me?”

You shake your head, bewildered. “…Yeah. I mean, I would want to know that you understood how you hurt my feelings, but yeah. Really, it’s not that complicated.”

Remus’ expression softens. “I do understand that, dove. Do you understand how you hurt mine?”

“I…” You find you can’t quite look at him. “I imagine it’s sort of similar. Because I’ve been cold to you.”

“And because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says. It doesn’t sound like I told you so, not smug so much as gentle. “But it was a small thing to begin with, wasn’t it? I’m ready to be past it.”

You frown at him. “It’s not about the argument for me. I’m already past that, it’s just everything else.”

Remus considers you. “Would you come here, please?”

You swear you wouldn’t go if he didn’t sound so kind. But you find yourself with your legs curled underneath you on the bed in front of him, Remus coaxing your hands into his.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says sincerely, looking you in the eyes. “It was a silly argument, and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, sizing up whether he means it. “I…also could have been less stubborn,” you admit begrudgingly. Your tone softens. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, too. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Remus’ touch coasts from your hands up your arms as he pulls you closer to kiss your forehead. “Are we okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, mollified.

He smiles at you. “Hear that?” he says towards the door. “You can let us out now.”

There’s no response.

Remus frowns as you get out of bed, going to try the handle. The door comes open, revealing and empty hallway.

“Pricks,” Remus mutters.

You find your boyfriends in the living room, James flicking through channels on the telly while Sirius reads the back cover of your book. James notices you first.

“Oh, hello.” He grins at you as Sirius looks over. “All sorted, then?”

You’re half tempted to pretend you didn’t make up just to spite them. When you look over at Remus, you suspect he’s thinking the same thing.

“That was sort of mean, lying to me like that,” you say to James instead.

He looks a bit contrite, but Sirius says insouciantly, “You were never gonna do it by yourselves, babe. We weren’t ready to start divvying up the furniture because you wanted to have a row.”

You kiss your teeth. “I think I might be having a row with you now.”

“What, us?” James’ eyebrows rise above the frames of his glasses. “What for?”

“You lied to us both to make us feel bad,” Remus reminds him, “and then locked us in the bedroom.”

Sirius isn’t impressed. “Well, it wasn’t really locked, was it. If you’d gotten desperate, you could’ve taken it off the hinges. Or just checked again after a couple minutes.”

“She broke her nail trying to get the window open.”

You hold up your torn fingernail as proof. Sirius coos, reaching for your finger and bringing it to his lips while you scowl at him.

“Sorry, lovie. We had a plan to bring you food in a couple hours,” says James. “We were even going to let you out for bathroom breaks if you needed to go.”

“Really, you wrapped it up much quicker than we were expecting,” Sirius praises. He’s still holding your finger, drawing his thumb up and down the side in easy, consoling strokes. “We thought you’d ice each other out until supper at least. I’m quite proud of you.”

Remus scoffs.

“Oh, come now.” Sirius grins. “Give us a kiss.”

You roll your eyes but turn to Remus, extricating your finger from Sirius’ grasp to meet him in a chaste kiss.

The other boys cheer. “There we are!” James tilts his face up expectantly. “Now one for me.”

You and Remus exchange a look.

“No,” you say coolly, “I don’t think so.” The two of you go to sit on the far side of the couch, away from both Sirius and James with you curled against Remus’ side. He looks a tad smug as he puts his arm around you.

“Oi!” says Sirius. “Look what you’ve done, you’ve made James pull his sad puppy face. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“You lied to us,” you say again, slowly, with emphasis, “and locked us in the bedroom.”

Sirius scoffs. “So dramatic.”

“Oh, that’s rich.”

“Will it help if we say sorry?” James asks meekly.

Remus looks at you. You shrug.

“Maybe,” he says. “You’re more than welcome to try and find out.”

1K notes · View notes

winxanity-ii · 2 months ago

Text

FATHER, FORGIVE ME

ship: father charlie x fem!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 ( oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 4.1k a/n: ahhh….I just want to say I'm so thrilled with all the love and support for the mini Devotion series! It means the world to me to see you guys enjoying it as much as I do. And a huge thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday! I got drunk asf, and here's the rough draft I made while tipsy, lolol. Hope you all enjoy~ 😈✨..

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You wouldn't say you were a bad person.

Selfish? Maybe. Impulsive? Absolutely. But "bad" seemed a bit of a stretch.

It's just that, when you saw something you wanted, you didn't hesitate to take it—and, honestly, you had no regrets. Not until now, at least.

Sitting here, surrounded by the smell of old hymn books and dusty incense, listening to some wrinkly old man in a white robe drone on about salvation.

The whole thing was your mother's doing. She had this recurring phase, like clockwork, where she'd get bitten by the "Bible bug."

For a few weeks every year, she was the most devoted Catholic you'd ever seen. She'd call, text, guilt-trip—anything to get her kids back on the straight and narrow, even if just for a Sunday morning.

For the last seven years, you'd managed to dodge it. Moved out at eighteen and never looked back, leaving the duty of church attendance to your three other siblings.

Usually, someone would take one for the team and tag along with Mom until her enthusiasm fizzled out again. But this time, it seemed your luck had run dry—your sister had finally roped you in, and here you were, seven-year streak shattered.

You sighed deeply, eyes half-lidded as they flicked across the stained glass windows—all those saints staring down at you in judgment.

You couldn't help but think of all the things you could be doing right now. Sleeping, for one. Your bed sounded like heaven compared to the hard pew beneath you.

Or brunch with your friends—mimosas and laughter, not these monotone chants and the faint smell of mothballs.

Hell, you could've called Kevin over and gotten dicked down instead of dealing with this—

Your thoughts screeched to a halt, slamming against an unexpected sight.

The old priest, the one whose croaky voice was practically white noise at this point, stepped away from the pulpit. In his place was someone else—someone younger, someone whose presence commanded attention.

A man, tall, dark hair neatly combed back, with a crisp black cassock that hugged his broad shoulders just right. He moved with a sense of ease, like he belonged up there.

And damn, was he handsome. Handsome enough to pull your focus completely, which was a feat in itself given the circumstances.

Your eyes tracked him as he approached the podium, his voice replacing the rasping chant of the old priest. It was smooth, warm, resonant. Nothing like the man you remembered from years ago.

He spoke about community, faith, redemption—but all you could think was how someone like him ended up in a place like this.

You found yourself leaning forward, just slightly, as if drawn in by some invisible force. Your irritation melted away, replaced by a strange curiosity.

Maybe… maybe this wouldn't be the worst way to spend a Sunday after all.

The priest stood quietly at the altar, his figure framed by the soft light filtering through the stained glass windows. A faint scar traced its way down the right side of his forehead, a mark that spoke of some unknown hardship or past misadventure.

He was youthful but with the stillness of someone who’d seen enough to understand patience and humility.

With each breath, the man seemed grounded in his presence, shoulders relaxed but broad, the fabric of his robe resting comfortably against his chest.

His appearance was almost angelic, yet the subtle scar and the weight in his eyes hinted at something more complex beneath the surface—a man of God, perhaps, but one who had walked through fire to find his faith.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow in appreciation as you stared at the handsome man up there. You leaned over a bit to your mother, eyes never straying from his figure. "Ma, who's that? Is he new?" you whispered to your mother.

She looked up from her phone, Candy Crush flashing on her screen. You silenced the snort that wanted to come out. Looked like she might retire from church early this year, you thought to yourself, seeing her early signs of disengaging.

She glanced up at the front, giving a quick look before going back to her game. "That's Father Charlie Mayhew. He was brought in about two or three years ago, I think," she murmured absently, barely paying attention.

Father Charlie.

You watched as he spoke, his voice strong yet gentle, his eyes sweeping over the congregation with a genuine warmth. He wasn't like the old priest—this one seemed to genuinely care, as if each word held weight.

You wondered if that scar came from something dramatic, some story worth knowing. Your gaze lingered, taking in the slope of his shoulders, the way his lips moved with each word. Something about him felt... magnetic.

You found yourself sitting up straighter when the two of you made eye contact—he blinked, his words stumbling just slightly, a brief hitch in his otherwise smooth delivery. "I, uh... I apologize," he stuttered, looking off to the side, the tips of his ears turning pink.

You caught the way his eyes shifted nervously, almost as if he was trying to regain his footing. It was subtle, but you could see it—the way he tried to pull himself back together, to get through the rest of the sermon without any more disruptions.

He cleared his throat to continue, "As I was saying... uh, the importance of faith in our lives cannot be overstated. We must always strive to, um, to do what is right, even when it's difficult..." His voice trailed off slightly, but he managed to steady himself, his eyes avoiding yours as he focused on the rest of the congregation.

It made something stir in you, a mix of curiosity and amusement.

You bit down gently on your lower glossed lip, eyes trailing over his form, taking in every subtle detail. The way his hands gripped the edge of the podium, the faint flush creeping up his neck—it was all so telling.

He seemed innocent, reactive.

You smiled to yourself, letting your gaze linger as he continued, noting the way he seemed to avoid looking in your direction now, as if afraid that another glance might trip him up again.

Maybe you should pay a visit to Father Charlie—see if you could break that serene composure of his.

You could already imagine it—the way he might tense up under your touch, the way his voice might crack if you whispered something just a bit too forward.

The thought alone made your heart race, anticipation bubbling up inside you, like something in you just knew—he'd be fun to unravel.

You leaned back in your seat, a slow, satisfied smile playing on your lips. Oh, this was going to be fun.

The sermon ended with a quiet murmur of 'Amen' from the congregation, followed by the gentle shuffle of people rising from the pews.

You glanced around, watching as people slowly made their way to the exits, some stopping to chat while others lingered near the back of the church.

The old priest was nowhere to be seen, but Father Charlie remained, standing at the front as he spoke softly to a small group of parishioners.

Your mother, of course, made a beeline for him. You heard her voice carrying over the hushed conversations, gushing about how moving today’s sermon was.

You rolled your eyes, unable to help yourself, and slowly rose to your feet, making your way over with an almost lazy stride.

As you approached, you could see your mother perk up, her eyes lighting up as she turned to you. "Oh, there she is! Father Charlie, this is my youngest, ____." She gestured towards you, her hand lightly resting on your arm to pull you closer. "You've met my other children over the years."

You could see the change in Father Charlie almost instantly. His posture shifted, his back straightening just a little more, his eyes rounding as they landed on you. He seemed almost like an eager puppy, his gaze bright and attentive.

He quickly pulled his eyes away, turning back to your mother with a polite smile as he nodded. "Yes, I remember," he said, his voice a touch softer. Then he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours as he gave you a gentle smile. "It's nice to finally meet you. I don't think I've seen you here before... ?"

Your mother gave a sort of laughing scoff, waving him off as she caught his attention again. She chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, Father, the day she willingly comes to church without an incentive is the day the devil is welcomed back into Heaven's gates."

You kept your eyes on Father Charlie, a small smile tugging at your lips as you tilted your head slightly. "Maybe I just hadn't found a good enough reason to come before," you said, your gaze locked on his, your voice light but carrying a hint of something more.

His eyes widened just a little, and you watched as a faint blush spread across his cheeks, his lips parting slightly as he blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Before he could say anything, your mother’s name was called from behind. It was one of her church friends, and in an instant, she was off, waving a quick goodbye and leaving you standing there in front of Father Charlie.

You didn't waste a second, taking a daring step forward, your eyes fixed on him. "So..." you said, letting your gaze roam over him before meeting his eyes again. "You seem awfully young to be running a church like this. I have to say, I'm impressed."

He looked bashful, glancing down for a moment before looking back up at you. "Oh, well, thank you. I just... I do my best," he said, his voice soft, the pink on his cheeks deepening.

You smiled, tilting your head just slightly. "Do you do one-on-one sessions, like other churches do?" you asked, your voice carrying a hint of mischief.

He blinked, clearly confused for a moment, before his eyes widened in realization. "Oh, you mean confessionals?" He nodded quickly, his expression shifting back to something more serious. "Yes, I do. In fact, I was planning on doing confessionals later today, after the services. Not many people take me up on it, but I think it's important to always offer the option."

"Oh, really?" you said, letting your voice drop just a bit, your head tilting to the side as you watched him. You let a small smile curve your lips, your gaze never leaving his. "Well, you wouldn't mind if I came to see you and... confessed, would you, Father?"

He stuttered, his blush deepening as he quickly nodded. "N-No, of course not. You're more than welcome to come by, anytime," he said, his voice a bit shaky.

You smirked, giving him a nod. "Perfect," you said, your voice smooth, before turning on your heel and walking away, back towards where your mother was waiting.

You could feel his gaze on you the entire time, the weight of his eyes almost burning into your back. And you loved it.

This really was going to be fun.

The church grew quieter as the service officially ended, people slowly trickling out while you lingered, waiting for your moment.

Eventually, you made your way to the confessional booth, the small wooden space feeling cramped as you settled in. The air was close, the scent of polished wood and incense hanging heavy.

You could hear Father Charlie shuffling on the other side, the sound of the door closing behind him, the rustle of fabric as he got seated.

You took a breath, letting the silence stretch for a moment before you began. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..." you said, your voice soft, but there was an edge to it that you couldn't quite hide.

There was a pause before you heard him clear his throat, his voice coming through the small screen that separated you. "The Lord is always ready to forgive. Please, tell me your sins, my child."

You sighed, leaning back slightly, your fingers brushing against the hem of your dress. "I fear I desire a man that is just out of my reach," you said, your voice carrying a hint of frustration. "It's wrong for me to want him... but I can't seem to help myself."

There was a moment of silence, and you could almost picture the look on his face—concerned, earnest, wanting to help. His voice was gentle as he responded. "Desire can be difficult to control, but it is not inherently sinful. It is what we choose to do with that desire that matters. You must pray for guidance, ask for strength... and remember that God understands our struggles."

You hummed softly, your eyes half-lidded as you listened to him, but your mind was drifting. His voice was soothing, and you found yourself imagining what it would be like if things were different.

If there wasn't a screen between you.

If you could reach out, touch him, feel that innocence melt away under your fingers.

Your hand trailed down your side, your fingers brushing over your thigh as you let out a soft sigh.

His voice cut through your thoughts, sounding a bit uncertain. "Sister ____... are you alright? Do you hear me?"

You smiled to yourself, your mind made up. You leaned closer to the screen, your voice dropping to a near whisper. "Father," you began, your tone coy, "I must confess... I find it difficult to focus when you're speaking. You have such a... soothing voice."

His breath caught audibly, and you could almost hear the way he was struggling to gather himself. "W-What do you mean, sister?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, laced with confusion.

"It makes me think... sinful thoughts."

You could hear the slight hitch in his breath, the rustle of fabric as he shifted. "S-sister," he stammered, clearly taken aback. "This... this is not appropriate."

You ignored his protest, your voice growing softer, more intimate. "You know, Father, I've always heard that confession is good for the soul. And right now... I think there's only one thing that could truly absolve me of these desires." You let the words hang in the air, knowing exactly what you were implying.

"Sister, this... this isn't..." His voice was shaky now, the uncertainty clear. "I don't think—"

"Come get me, Father," you whispered, your tone daring, challenging him. "You wouldn't leave me like this, would you?"

There was silence for a long moment, and then you heard it—the slow shuffling as he moved. The sound of his door opening, the soft creak of the confessional booth as he stepped out.

You pushed your own door open, stepping out into the dimly lit church. Father Charlie was standing there, his head downcast, his face flushed a deep red. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came out, his eyes flickering up to meet yours before darting away again.

You took a step towards him, your movements slow, deliberate—like a predator closing in on its prey. His breath hitched as you approached, his shoulders tensing. He cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sister, I... this isn't right. We shouldn't—"

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the front of his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. You let your hand slide down, your voice a low purr. "Father," you purred, your eyes locking onto his, "I want you to take me somewhere... push me to a higher calling, yeah?"

His eyes widened, the pupils dilating as he stared at you, his lips parting in shock. For a moment, he seemed frozen, and then, almost as if the word was pulled from him, he whispered, "Okay..."

His hand was trembling slightly as he reached for yours, and you let him lead you out of the main church area, his eyes flicking nervously around to make sure no one was watching. He led you down a dim hallway, stopping at a small door that opened into a cramped janitor's closet.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you were on him.

You pushed him back against the wall, your lips crashing against his. He gasped, and you took advantage, licking into his mouth, tasting the hint of mint on his tongue as a low groan rumbled from your throat. His hands hesitated for a moment before resting on your waist, his touch light, unsure.

You deepened the kiss, feeling the way he shivered beneath your touch, your hands pushing up under his cassock, fingers skimming over the hard lines of his abdomen. His muscles tensed under your fingertips, a shudder running through him as he let out a shaky breath.

You pulled back, just enough to see his face in the low light, and he chased your lips, leaning forward as if he couldn't stand the sudden loss of contact.

You let out a dark chuckle, your hands coming up to cup his flushed cheeks, squeezing gently. His face was a deep shade of red, his eyes half-lidded, his breath coming in short, uneven pants. He looked almost dazed, completely overwhelmed, and it only made your smile widen.

Your thumb grazed over his plump bottom lip, pressing gently before dipping just inside his mouth. His eyes fluttered, his tongue flicking out hesitantly to brush against your thumb before retreating. You let out a soft sigh, a hint of a teasing smile tugging at your lips. "Oh?" you murmured, raising an eyebrow, your gaze fixed on him.

Charlie swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours, his breathing ragged. You stepped closer, rising onto your tiptoes, your lips just barely grazing his as you spoke. "You did so well during the sermon, Father," you whispered, your voice low and dripping with suggestion. "It makes me wonder... what could such a blessed mouth do somewhere else?"

His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly, but he didn’t pull away. You gripped his shoulder, your fingers digging in just enough to make him shiver, and tugged him downwards. "On your knees," you said, your tone commanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

Slowly, almost as if in a trance, Charlie sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something almost like reverence, and it sent a thrill through you.

You watched as he knelt before you, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that knew this was wrong, that wanted to resist—but the desire was stronger, and he couldn't bring himself to stop.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair, your touch surprisingly gentle. "That's it," you murmured, your voice softening just a fraction. "Such a good Father... doing exactly what you're told."

You took a step back, your eyes never leaving his as you moved to the nearest wall, leaning against it comfortably.

With slow, deliberate movements, your hands reached down, unzipping your mini skirt and letting it slide down your legs, pooling around your ankles. You made a show of it, your fingers tracing along your thighs, sliding over your hips, and letting out a soft sigh as you watched him.

Charlie's eyes widened, his gaze following every movement, his lips parted, his breath catching in his throat. The flush on his face deepened, his eyes locked onto you with something like awe, mingled with pure, unfiltered desire.

You smirked, lifting one hand and curling your fingers in a come-hither motion. He hesitated only for a moment before slowly beginning to crawl towards you, his eyes never breaking away from yours.

The sight sent a thrill through you, a shiver of excitement running up your spine. He reached you, his hands carefully coming up to rest on your legs, his touch light, almost reverent.

His fingers traced along your calves, moving upwards with a hesitant slowness that made you release a shaky sigh, your back arching slightly as his touch grew bolder.

His hands were trembling as they reached your hips, his fingers brushing against the edge of your underwear. He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking up to meet yours as if silently asking for permission.

You gave a small nod, and he let out a shaky breath, his fingers hooking into the waistband and slowly slipping your underwear down, his eyes fixed on you the entire time.

Once they were off, he shifted closer, his breath ghosting over your bare skin. He surprised you by gently lifting one of your legs, settling it over his shoulder as he pulled you closer, his face inches away from your most intimate parts.

He let out a deep, almost pornographic groan as he leaned in, taking a slow, deep breath, as if breathing you in. The sound sent a jolt through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

Charlie looked up at you one more time, his eyes searching, as if asking for final permission.

You smiled, your fingers sliding through his hair before giving a gentle but firm scratch along his scalp, your silent approval. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh before leaning in.

At first, his movements were hesitant, his tongue slipping out to give an experimental swipe. He was sloppy, uncoordinated, his lack of experience clear, but there was a determination in the way he moved, as if desperate to please.

You let out a soft hum, the sound encouraging him, and he grew a little more confident, his tongue pressing more firmly. He licked a long stripe up, his tongue swirling at the top, and you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

"That's it, Father," you murmured, your voice a soft purr. "You're doing such a good job."

The praise seemed to light something in him, a low groan vibrating against you as he pushed in closer. The sound made you gasp, your back arching slightly as the vibrations sent a rush of pleasure through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He grew bolder, his tongue delving deeper, slipping inside you as he began to eat you out like a man starved. He was messy, the wet sounds filling the small space, his lips and tongue moving with increasing fervor, as if the more he tasted, the more he craved.

He bullied his tongue into you, his nose brushing against you as he lost himself in the act, his hands gripping your hips tightly, holding you against him as he worked.

You bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep quiet, but the soft, wet sounds filled the small space, making it impossible to ignore.

Your hand moved up, your teeth sinking into the back of it as you stifled a moan, your thighs trembling as he continued. His tongue moved with determination, pressing deeper, swirling before retreating, then focusing on your most sensitive spot.

When his lips closed around your clit, giving a particularly hard suck, your vision blurred, and stars burst behind your eyelids. Your back arched, your body pressing against his face as the waves of pleasure rolled over you, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Your thighs shook as you slowly came down, your body relaxing slightly against the wall. You let out a shaky breath, your fingers still tangled in his hair, tugging gently. You gave Charlie a small shove, pushing him back just enough.

He hesitated, his tongue giving one last languid lick, followed by a reluctant suck before he finally pulled away, his lips glistening, his breath coming in low, heavy pants. His bottom face was a mess, his eyes half-lidded, dazed as he looked up at you.

You leaned down, your fingers cupping the bottom of his face, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek as you gave him a swift peck on the corner of his lips. He blinked, his eyes widening slightly, a blush deepening across his face.

Straightening up, you reached down, picking up your discarded thong, folding it neatly before slipping it into the pocket of his cassock. He stared at you, his lips parted, his breathing still uneven.

"Thank you, Father~" you purred, your voice dripping with satisfaction. You watched as his blush deepened even more, his eyes darting away from yours. "You know," you continued, your tone teasing, "I might just have to come back for confession more often."

He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours, a mix of confusion and something darker swirling in them. You smiled, giving him a wink before turning on your heel, striding out of the closet, leaving him kneeling there, his breath still shaky, his face still flushed.

As you walked away, a satisfied smile playing on your lips, you couldn't help but think that maybe church wasn't going to be so bad after all.

A/N: hehehe, dont mind me, just wanted to see charlie's and y/n relationship in reversal...

1K notes · View notes

okay-babe · 10 months ago

Text

Mothering

tags: alastor x fem! reader, suggestive themes, allusions to sex, alastor and reader are married, domestic bliss, Husk and Angel are tortured by your love for each other.

It was a rather quiet morning, one that had become almost typical of the hotel in the quickly passing months, and Angel watched as, like usual, the Radio Demon began to walk swiftly from the stairwell to the front doors.

Although, this time, there was a notable interruption to the sinner's routine.

"Al, wait!"

You called in an almost panicked sounding tone, bounding down the stairs in only your night gown, an object that Angel couldn't quite make out in hand.

Immediately, Alastor halted where he stood, his neck turning before the rest of his body to watch as you rushed over to him, cheeks flushed from your run down to the lobby.

The demon raised a brow at you curiously, but with a marked lack of exasperation that must have come from that store of patience he reserved just for you, and you smiled sheepishly as you held up a small shimmering band.

"You forgot this."

You said, tone almost nervous sounding as you continued your approach in spite of the painfully obvious adoration written all over the Radio Demon's face.

Immediately, Alastor looked down toward his left hand in surprise, his eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of his barren ring finger before he looked back to you and smiled one of those gentle soft things he once again only seemed to reserve for you.

"Ah, why thank you, my dear."

He all but purred, eyes lighting up as you grew ever closer until he could finally offer his hand to you in the way you so clearly desired.

You grinned happily at the gesture and reached forward with the ring in hand as the sinner spoke up again,

"I couldn't fathom going a day without it."

You blushed at that, eyes diverting swiftly for a moment before they moved almost instinctively back to Alastor, watching his pleased expression as you slid his wedding ring back onto his waiting finger.

You stared at him for a few seconds, as if enthralled by the very vision of him in spite of the fact that you quite literally woke up to the man every morning, until finally you snapped yourself out of it with a slightly embarrassed clearing of your throat.

"Well, I'm quite sure you could manage if you had to."

You said softly, voice slightly higher in pitch than usual as your husband bent down, the already raised left side of his mouth curling upward further in an amused smirk at the sight of your pink cheeks and slightly nervous body language.

He'd had this effect on you in life as well, but it seemed he'd never tire of seeing it, even after so very long.

"Manage, certainly, but I'm not sure I would want to without the reminder of my darling wife back home."

He drawled, his now decorated left hand reaching up to palm your cheek and his eyes scanning you with a chuckle as you all but melted into his touch, always so very receptive to his affections whenever he was willing to offer them.

Suddenly though, your eyes widened, and you broke away with a gasp, your gaze shifting down to Alastor's hands only to find them empty.

"Al, did you remember to grab the organs I prepared for Rosie yesterday evening?"

You asked, immediately causing Angel and Husk over by the bar to flinch in response.

Had it been a surprise that the Radio Demon's wife was a little bit too comfortable with cannibalism? Not nearly as surprising as it was that the overlord had a wife in the first place, but still, it certainly hadn't been anticipated that you would be so handy with a boning knife.

The deer demon standing in front of you let out a soft hum of surprise before he shook his head, straightening back out to his full height with one arm crossed over the other.

"Silly me, it appears I'd nearly forgotten."

He replied, tone colored with amusement as you immediately set off toward the kitchen before the man could even finished, returning shortly thereafter with a rather large container of something your observers would rather not think too hard about.

"Well count yourself lucky I felt up to the chase this morning, beau."

You teased as you set the tub down on an end table nearby so you could approach your husband once more, straightening out his tie and fussing over his hair for a few moments as the demon simply stood still beneath your attentions, smile both amused and contented all at once.

You looked up at him after a few moments, eyes softening slightly at the sight of his expression as your hands moved to brush some invisible lint off his chest.

"You know, it isn't like you to be so forgetful, Al."

You began gently, hands working to smooth out a few barely there wrinkles in the demon's shirt.

"I'm beginning to worry that your age is getting to you."

Your tone was far too teasing to ever be misconstrued as serious as you spoke, stepping away slightly to admire your handiwork only to be stopped by a tug at your wrist as Alastor moved to pull you close once more.

"Is that so?"

He purred, tone still just as amused as before as he flipped your teasing back on you tenfold,

"Well then darling, I suppose I'll have to remind you of just how spry I can be upon my return."

His voice lowered slightly as he said this, and instantly your cheeks felt hot and your eyes widened slightly beneath your husband's heavy gaze.

Desperate to change the subject before your (rather unwelcome) background audience caught on or made any commentary, you quickly cleared your throat again before giving a nervous laugh.

"Sure thing old man, whatever you say."

You said halfheartedly, watching as the Radio Demon's eyes grew darker at your unintentional challenge.

And at that, you were quick to switch topics.

"O-oh!"

You began, eyes roving aimlessly for something else to talk about before they finally fell to the unused coat rack in the corner of the room.

"Are you sure you won't be needing a coat, Al? I'd hate for you to catch a cold..."

You said nervously, hands wringing together as your husband watched you with sheer amusement and something slightly heavier behind his eyes, his mouth opening as if to reply only for him to be cut off by a voice from another part of the room.

"Babe, I love ya and all, but this is gettin' ridiculous!"

Angel cried out in exasperation,

"We're in hell, for cryin' out loud! Yer husband is a demon overlord who owns enough souls to be considered a large business owner! He's not gonna get cold out there!"

You gave another nervous laugh in response to Angel's rambling,

"But-"

"Nu uh, no buts Toots, now say goodbye to ol' tall, dark, and creepy before you start actin' like his motha' again."

Angel interrupted, immediately causing you to let out a huff of indignation, turning around to face your friend where he sat at the bar,

"I am NOT acting like his mother."

You insisted, attitude faltering a bit when you noted the rather amused expression that your comrades were wearing, informing you that you were likely making a slight fool of yourself.

"I-I'm not..."

You trailed off quietly, cheeks warm with embarrassment even as you felt a familiar clawed hand drop down upon your shoulder in a manner that was no doubt meant to be soothing.

Though, the next words out of your husband's mouth, in spite of his actions, most certainly were not.

"Not to worry, cher."

He purred, pulling you back against him gently so you could feel the warmth of his chest upon your back and the curl of his smile against your helix, a sensation which immediately caused you to shiver.

"If they wish to see you as a mother, I will happily oblige."

Your blush deepened at that, eyes widening as you desperately tried to ignore the shocked looks of your peers in favor of trying to focus on keeping your head straight instead as Alastor stepped away once more, the casualness of his attitude a stark contrast to his previous words.

"Oh dear, would you look at the time. I really must be going."

He said, a teasing lilt to his voice that was all too easy to hear coming through as he checked his wrist for a watch he wasn't actually wearing before leaning forward to press an exaggerated kiss to your forehead.

"I'll be seeing you later, darling." He drawled with that trademark grin of his as he approached the door, one clawed hand reaching to pull it open before he finally stepped out.

That is, until a few seconds later, when his head popped back in again.

"Oh, and do keep well hydrated, dear heart! I would hate to endure a repeat of the last time you called my spryness into question."

Alastor looked far too pleased with himself as he spoke for you to even bother attempting to rebuke him, and but a moment later he was gone, off to see Rosie with a well adorned ring finger and a large container of organs in hand.

"WHAT DID HE SAY?!"

Angel cried, still clearly stuck on your husband's mothering comment from earlier as you sighed and approached the bar, an apologetic look on your face as you glanced toward Husk.

"Can I just get a water please?"

You muttered sheepishly, immediately causing the bartender to groan and bury his face in his hand, his disappointment in your immense lack of shame obvious, but truly, what else had he expected?

Had he met your husband?

#alastor x reader #alastor imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #.writes

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alastor-x-reader-stories · 2 months ago

Text

"Bite Me" - Alastor x Reader

You were a strange addition to the hotel.

A quiet sinner demon with no merit to speak of who just waltzed in without much fuss or fanfare. No blowing up walls, no trying to kill anyone, no entertainment what so ever.

You were so boring, Alastor didn't even want to mess with you.

...

At first.

Then, quiet and unassuming, you slowly established yourself as both over-forgiving and sharply blunt.

It was amusing watching the whiplash on a demon's face when you flip between them so much in a single day.

Once, Angel Dust was high as a kite and practically lobbed a brick at your head. Your response was "No harm done, don't worry about it." later that same day, the spider-fellow draped an arm around Vaggie's shoulder and slung some sort of ridiculous insult. You moved his arm off of her and said "You need to learn to watch what you say or I'm ripping this arm off and shoving it down your throat."

Usually that last threat would lead to some other comment, but the flat way you said it and moved on to a different subject left the spider fellow standing there without much else to say.

How amusing!

Even he was no exemption from your two-faced nature, it seemed. One moment apologizing for accidentally blocking his path, the next informing him that you'd use his antlers as forks if he didn't leave you alone. Silly little threats that were oh-so pathetic when said by such a...underwhelming, individual.

Alastor's favorite of yours was 'I'm going to eat your kidneys'. Then how rude you were to decline the cooking lesson he offered!

Typically your quips and comments were about trivial things, little things that Alastor would purposely do in order to get a reaction.

THIS TIME, THOUGH

He had a particularly annoying run in with Vox one day, trudging back to the hotel with his patience already at its limit. Husk knew better than to comment on it, shying away from him as he prowled through the lobby. Angel Dust was at the bar counter, eyeing Alastor as he strode on through.

"Ya look like shit." He commented passively.

"Thank you ever so much for the keen observation." Alastor said with a smile. Husker flinched, ears dropping. It was only then he noticed you there as well, a forgotten drink in your hand as you gaze lingered on Husk, a frown setting to your lips.

The rest of that particular exchange wasn't of any significance. It wasn't until later when you sought him out in the Hotel's parlor things escalated.

"You need to calm down."

His grin hitched up and he leered down at you. You were more than a foot shorter than him and your big eyes did little to make you look more intimidating.

"I beg your pardon, dear?"

"I said you need to calm down." Your tail swished in agitation. "I get you had a bad day but that's no reason to take it out on other people."

Alastor chuckled "Oh goodness. My apologies, my dear. But you have absolutely no ground to tell me to do anything."

He back you up against the wall, hands planted on either side of you. His antler stretched out and his eyes took on the appearance of dials as he leaned down. Sharp teeth grazed your face, hot breath stung your eyes. Claws carved their way into the wall on either side of you.

"So, my dear, what was it you said? I'm afraid I didn't quite catch it."

"I said you need to calm down."

Alastor's eye twitched, his grin twisting into something so much more unhinged. No hesitation. Were you stupid?

A look at you said yes, but you knew damn well the danger you were in. You were trembling, pupils shaking breath shallow. But you still had the nerve to speak to him that way?

"All right, what if I don't?" He purred, tracing a claw over the side of your face "Go on ahead and let me hear whatever pathetic threat you have."

"I'll bite you." spoken in that flat tone of yours.

Alastor laughed "As amusing as always-"

Pain burst from his shoulder, sharp and sticky as fangs burst through flesh. Perhaps it was shock that had him stumble back, perhaps it was amusement that allowed you to get away from him. You opened your jaw, withdrawing your teeth from his shoulder as skin and cloth clung to the spaces between your bloodied fangs.

You gave him a pointed glare as your wiped some excess blood off of your face and prowled off without so much as giving him a second glance.

He had every right to hunt you down and rip apart your soul right then and there.

Instead he found himself losing his balance, falling onto his rear on the floor. Fingers curled over the fresh and large bite mark on his shoulder. The damn thing nearly covered the entirety of between his collar bone and his arm socket.

He pulled his hand away to stare absently at his own blood.

You must be venomous. That was the only way to explain why his heart was suddenly racing and his face suddenly felt far too warm. His breathing was off, shallow and uneven.

You actually bit him.

Were your threats actually not so empty?

Did you really intend to use his antlers as forks?

He laughed to himself, letting his hand drop back to his side. This was ridiculous! If you meant even half the strange threats you threw at him....then...

Well. He was in danger.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

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whytheylosttheirminds · 2 months ago

Text

LUNCH

(rafe cameron blurb)

pairing: waitress!reader x rafe cameron

content: smut, 18+ minors do not interact!

‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

You usually liked your job. Being on your feet all day sucked, and some of the members here were assholes, but they were rich assholes and you never left without your purse overflowing with tips.

It only took a few weeks of waitressing at the Island Club’s restaurant to learn what kinds of things had you clocking out with pockets full of twenties and fifties. You weren’t even from North Carolina originally, but you adopted a sweet, southern drawl to match your fake smile. When you were back-of-house waiting on food for your tables, you’d drop the act, fucking around with the cooks and swearing like a sailor, immediately codeswitching to an angelic southern belle when you were back on the floor.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” the old men would say when you dropped off their burgers.

“You’re welcome, hun,” you’d say to their face, followed by “get fucked, creep,” once your back was turned.

Somehow, the younger guys were even worse. At least the older men had some subtlety, but the twenty-something, trustfunded Kook boys that would come in had absolutely no tact, and they tipped like shit.

Today, none of your work friends were scheduled with you, your new manager had laid into you about your dress being too short for a professional environment, and to top it off, you were working a double. You were actually considering quitting when a herd of local boys came barrelling into the restaurant, fresh off of making fools of themselves on the golf course - all swagger and no skill. You groaned when they sat themselves in your section.

You had absolutely no patience left in you. Instead of your usual chipper greeting and the list of today’s specials, you arrived at their table snapping, “you’re supposed to wait to be seated.”

The guy closest to you looked up under the shadow of his Titlest hat, a smug glint in his eyes as he said, “y'know, you’d be prettier if you smiled. You’d make a lot more money too.” His buddies erupted in laughter, as if he’d just brought the house down with his wit.

You were so fucking done, not even caring if you lost your job.

“Eat me,” you bit back at him. A casual flick of your middle finger in his face as you spun and sauntered away. He watched your hips swing as you left.

‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Your dress was bunched up around your waist and apron thrown on the club’s bathroom floor. He kneeled behind you as your nails dug into the marble countertop. Fingertips digging into your ass cheeks, he shook his head back and forth rapidly, dragging his tongue all over your pussy. His pornographic slurps made you whimper helplessly, so incredibly frustrated and turned on. He turned his hat around backwards so he could get deeper.

His big hand came down hard on the side of your thigh with a loud thwack. There would be a red handprint at the hem of your dress when you returned from your 15-minute break. If your boss wasn’t pissed at you before, you were in for it now. But you were too fucked out to care, forgetting all about your bad shift. You let him devour you, your whole body shuddering with every precise flick of his tongue against your clit.

He nibbled at the skin of your inner thighs as he hooked his fingers into you skillfully, drunk on the sound of all the pretty profanities that flowed from your lips.

You came so hard he had to hold you up against the bathroom sink, your knees shaking as you struggled to pull your panties back up. He stood behind you, wiping his mouth sloppily with the back of his hand. He caught your eyes in the mirror, smiling arrogantly at your bright red cheeks and smudged makeup.

“Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”

‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Your legs wobbled as you walked back to the table with only his drink on your tray. His friends were already getting up to leave, complaining about how long their food was taking. You'd forgotten all about their orders. He took the cold glass from you with a wink, throwing it back before following his friends to the door.

“You gonna pay for that?” You scoffed.

“Put it on Cameron!” He called back.

You rolled your eyes.

Maybe you’d keep this job a little longer.

#rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #obx fic #rafe obx #obx smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron blurb #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine

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tbaluver · 3 months ago

Note

Can you write the guys reaction to having a baby girl as their first child? (I'm a sucker for papa's little princesses)

Thank you and your works are the best and comforting!

Papa's Little Princess- The Love And DeepSpace Men

synopsis: when your first child is a girl! genre: fluff fluff a/n: omg this was such a cute idea i wish they were real (╥﹏╥) and thank you so much! i hope my works can continuing being comforting for you and anybody else <3 i hope this was okay and that you enjoy this! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

His little star

A gentle father. He's the type to never yell at his daughter but he'll provide positive disciplining strategies with you.

He wants to be in every part of his daughter's life in any way he can. He wouldn't really know how to do his daughter's hair but he was willing to try ! He would watch you tie her hair, braid, and put many accessories in her hair and he would be confused on how you did all that. He tried looking up how to do her hair and his first time wasn't the best.....but after some practice with you, he would be a pro just like you!

Do NOT let these two bake together especially with the easy bake ovens. Nearly set the kitchen on fire attempting to make cookies for you. He couldn't say no to her when she wanted to cook or try baking with him. You don't know how but it ended up burnt or with the weirdest toppings ever and a broken easy bake oven.

Nap time is serious business with these two. They are not to be disturbed. She's either asleep on his chest or in his lap. Whenever you take walks and she gets too tired, he'll carry her around on his back. She'll rest her head on the crook of his neck while he holds onto her tightly.

She would have all the plushies, toys, and snacks she wants! He'll do his all to get her the plushies in the claw machine to make his little angel jump up and down in joy. She could never have enough

Loves to join her in her imaginative play whether she wants to be a princess or an astronaut. It makes playtime full of joy and adventure

Zayne:

You two would have the most polite, well mannered, and kindest daughter ever.

Loves to participate in playing house with her. He'll sit on the floor or the tiny chairs from the tea party set you gotten for her. He'll play the role with no complaints and tell her that the tea is delicious even though there is absolutely no tea in the plastic cup.

He's a doctor but he can't help but sneak a few sweet treats for her. If she wants some before lunch or dinner then she can have at least one before she eats her meal and then she'll have plenty more after. These two would have cavities later on.

He would make her all the mini snowmen and other things she wants from his evol. He finds her reaction to be adorable each time, it never gets old.

If your daughter mentions a boy, he would tell her she can have a boyfriend around 30. She would be happy and so was he. Mainly because she has no concept of time and age yet.

Your daughter loves to hear him read. Even though she was still very very young and didn't grasp everything just yet, he would read her stories and explain them with care and patience, aiming to entertain and nurture her curiosity. She loves to sit on his lap and sometimes she'll fall asleep on him.

He would let her pick any flower she wants to grow in your garden at the backyard. You would all start a small garden together and he would teach her how to care for them.

Rafayel:

Takes playing house a little too seriously. Whatever role his daughter gives him, he's giving it his all.

Oh he was so excited when your daughter first held a crayon. He colors with her a lot and eventually will introduce her to paint. He would tell her that she's doing so well even if they were just blobs. She's going to be an artist just like her papa. He'll even add some of her artwork on his so he can point it out to her if he were to have another exhibition tour.

First time at the beach with his daughter was such an emotional day for him. Hearing and seeing her squeal when her little feet touched the water warmed his heart. He held her so tightly and tenderly, reassuring her that she won't float away because her papa's got her. He teaches her a lot about how some fishes are friendly and one day he'll meet some of his fish friends.

He'll eventually tell her all about Lemuria whenever it was time for bed and he thought it's so cute whenever she wanted to hear more about it.

Would absolutely love to play dress up with her. Sometimes he'll pick some of her clothes out and he would think she is beautiful just like her mama. They'll make a little runway and model the outfits.

He would keep all the little milestones she has made and any memories. He'll keep all the photos, drawings, and any mementos to look back at the treasured memories.

Sylus:

The second person who will ever see his soft side is his daughter. You being the first.

He is protective over his daughter and with you. If anyone were to look at either one of you wrong? Sleep with one eye open.

He does not have fragile masculinity! He will let her apply as much toy makeup as she wants on his face. He'll play dress up with her as much as she wants no matter how obscure the outfits are! He has no complaints, anything to make his little angel smile and happy.

She loves hearing him sing lullabies. It puts her to sleep immediately but sometimes she'll sing or hum along with him.

If you tell your daughter no to something then she'll ask Sylus. He can't say no to his sweet baby girl. Just don't tell mom. He doesn't know what true fear is until he meets a mothers anger.

Loves to spoil her just like how he loves to spoil you. Not to the point where she's a brat though, you two would teach her to be better than that. "Just because" gifts to make her feel special without any special occasions

Anytime he would be away for business, he'll always bring you two something back. Something that you both either love or reminds him of you two or maybe both.

BONUS (All): They would all be patient fathers overall. They would never yell if your daughter showed any emotions especially if their daughters were to cry. They’re offering their own patience, love, and comfort in their own way. They would be there for your daughter emotionally as they were with you.

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hwan-g · 1 month ago

Text

cigarette smoke. BANG CHAN (18+)

pair. mechanic! chris x fem! reader genre. motel setting, romance, angst, smut warnings. use of pet names, flawed characters, smoking, explicit sexual content — read at your own discretion! word count. 3.7k

synopsis. fingers sink into the supple skin of your hip, the rest of him God knows where, impossible to tell as he ravages your sleek cunt, pistoling with the ferocity of a man unhinged, a man pathetic enough to think he can possibly carve a place for him inside of the body he wants to dominate more than anything else, against his greedy nature for the rest of the world and all it offers.

“I’m going to cut that motherfucker’s hands off next time he tries laying them on you.”

Chris was in deep shit.

Deep fucking shit.

You cross your arms over your chest, rubbing the skin, trying to keep warm. “You don’t have the balls.”

He smirks, chuckling to himself, and unlocks the door to his room for the time being, gesturing for you to get in first. “Watch it, angel. You might say something you’ll regret.”

You remain where you stand, stubborn as ever. Of course. Nothing’s ever easy when it comes to you, he should’ve known. So, why the fuck did he bring you here? What goddamn reason did he have for thinking you would, for once, once, do him the favor and comply with anything he requests of you?

Chris sighs. Drags a hand over his tired face, and scratches at his jaw, sensing his patience’s about to run out. Lucky for you. You’d probably love it. He thinks God must’ve put you on this Earth to get on his nerves and laugh mockingly as you watch him lose his fucking mind.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You prod, scoffing. Still not moving. “You get a hard-on every time someone tells you no.”

The mechanic growls, temper rising exponentially, and snatches you by the arm, shoving you through the door and locking it behind him, throwing the key haphazardly on top of the beaten down dresser with the cracked vanity and your lipstick stains from the previous night all over it. You don’t miss the way his biceps flex, all those delicious veins popping up the surface with the rough movement.

The one on his neck is constantly pulsing, angry and defined. You focus your gaze there, putting a hand on the bed’s mattress to keep from falling as you try to find your balance. Chris appears unbothered as he rids himself of the heavy biker jacket and rider boots. You contemplate pissing him off a bit more, just to get him where you really want him.

He really only ever chokes you out if you’ve crossed a line. You want him to go back to being familiar, to hatefuck you until you remember your place. You want to forget last night; how gentle his hands were, how softly he kissed you as he watched you two through the mirror, labored breath on your shoulder, fingers lightly wrapped around your bruised neck.

You didn’t want that—couldn’t want that. Violence is what you know. What you’re good at. Tenderness doesn’t last, it never does. Not with you. You’ll never deserve something like that.

Your hands move on their own accord, as you hear the click—four times—of his lighter. You smell the tobacco, see the smoke swirling and rising to the ceiling, with no escape.

He’s sitting on the rutty armchair by the TV, forearms propped on his knees, leaning forward, in nothing but a gray tank and unbuckled jeans, silver bracelet dangling as he taps his cigarette on an ashtray full of butts in front of him.

Your chest tightens at the sight of him. You bite your lip, and ignore the lump forming in your throat. You reach behind you to unhook the clasp of your bra.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asks harshly, upon noticing your undressing.

He sounds exhausted. There’s a raw raspiness to his voice, hours of chain smoking and dealing with grease, yelling over loud motors, then cursing every fucker who dares harass you at the bar. You haven’t thanked him once for looking out for you in there. If it wasn’t for him, who knows what would’ve happened to you, where you’d be.

Chris has the annoying tendency to make you his business, to keep involving himself with you, and taking your bullshit in stride. A good man in an ocean of so many bad ones, and you’ve no idea how to treat him, what to do with him. So, you push him away, hope it’s enough, hope that someday he’ll prove you right and become just like the rest of them—that he’ll get sick of you, and—and dump you. Just like you deserve.

It’s been a year.

By everyone else’s definition but your own, you’re his girl.

You’re sick with emotion you’ve no name for.

“Are you going to fuck me or should I leave?” You ask, sounding bored, feeling terrified.

Being naked in front of him will never stop feeling like the very first time he ever saw you that way. Back then, he’d run a calloused hand over your thigh, all the way up to your breast, and then had proceeded to crush you to his chest and push his thick, hard cock inside you, in the gas station outside of town.

Other places—the women’s bathroom at the bar, the kitchens after hours, the back room of the auto repair shop, his car, his second car, the bike currently parked outside, the shower of the apartment you share with your coworker, up against the fridge, the balcony with the potted plants you forgot to water months ago—and all those times, in all those places and positions, and times . . . He never once looked away.

He faced you fully, unafraid, not as a problem, but as an answer, and perhaps he’d been waiting for you or you’d been waiting for him, because Chris has been the only man that’s ever willed to take you upon himself as he has. No one’s ever stayed this long and not ran for their lives at the first sign of crazy.

Which is what you are. What you offer to his humble responsibility and sense of duty.

He doesn’t answer for a long time, instead studying your body as if a map has unraveled in front of him, uncharted waters and unclaimed lands. All dips and dives and curves, rounded corners and mountain sides.

The tip of the stick in his mouth burns red, hands coming together, overworked fingers interweaving. Dark eyes obscured by even darker wispy locks, plump mouth set in a hard line, completely unreachable, impossible to read.

You’re defiant. You refuse to cave under the weight of that gaze. Why else would he bring you here at three in the morning? Why else would he sit on the bar counter nursing whiskey after whiskey, counting down the minutes till you closed so he can take you with him?

You’re not good at a lot of things.

“Do you want to leave?” He asks, finally, voice muffled around the cigarette. “Am I holding you from something?”

“Fuck you.”

He leans back on the chair, mansplaining, arms raised behind his head. The glint in his eye is mischievous, is teasing. You bite down on your tongue, and get on the bed on all fours, facing away from him, giving him a good view of what he could have if he quit fucking playing games—it works, you hear that sharp inhale you’d been looking for, the choking down, the teeth grinding—before you get comfortable on your knees, hands on your lap, turning back to face him properly, blinking innocently, stomach churning with anticipation.

“Maybe,” he contemplates. “Answer me, (Y/N).”

Your brows furrow. Was there an actual question? “Answer what?”

“If I don’t fuck you tonight, are you going to leave?”

Whatever had been building up inside you shrivels and dies. You freeze all over, a terrible shiver running from the top of your head down your spine. He cannot be serious. So many things bubble up to the top, words you’d never speak out loud; confessions and thoughts, pointless black prayers you’ve whispered in dark, empty rooms. None of it is the correct answer.

You don’t think you’ll ever be ready for what is the correct answer.

“Did you think I was going to stay?” You spew acid, instead, deflecting, refusing, ignoring.

Chris seems to have expected it. He smashes the butt on the ashtray and gets up slowly, running a hand through soft looking hair. You could’ve been tugging at it by now, following the snap of his hips as they dig into your sopping cunt, but instead, here you are, talking in riddles about complicated, stupid feelings that you’d rather never discuss, never bring up, ever again.

“Do you have to cuddle with me to have me now? Is that it? Have you gone soft, Chris?” You reach to grab your shirt from the foot of the bed, to get dressed as fast as you can, to leave this ridiculous room and this even more ridiculous man. “What are you going to say next—are you gonna domesticate me, too, perhaps, like a fucking cat? Would you like to make love to me, wash my hair and sing me lulla—”

It takes all but three strides to reach you. He has you on your feet in an instant, standing so tall in front of you you have to crane your neck, and even knowing this, you feel ashamed. His hands grab the sides of your face, burying into your hair, as he forces you to look into his bloodshot eyes.

Fully clothed to your embarrassing nakedness, and yet you feel the bulge in his pants as it brushes your lower stomach, ever growing and so very hard already. See, this is what we both know, you want to tell him, to scream at him. Why do you need to make it difficult? Can’t you tell I’m already yours?

“Do I?” He mumbles close to your lips, tobacco on his breath, his muscular scent enveloping you in blissful familiarity, the word home home home beating inside you loud and clear. “Do I, angel?” He repeats, searching for answers in your eyes, diving deeper, beneath your skin, to your heart.

“Do I have you?” As he presses his lips to yours, grabbing a fistful of your hair and holding you to him, your body turning liquid, pulverizing into a million tiny pieces begging to be found by him.

Your entire being is screaming for him, raging against the instinctual fear and the agonizing dread of being left alone after you’ve encountered something as forceful, as devastating, fucking obliterating as Chris, and what if he snatches it all away? What if he leaves you with nothing but the unbearable gaping hole you’ve made for him in your chest?

What he’s supposed to fill and fill—what if, one day, he chooses not to? What if he abandons the fortress, declares retreat? What if he never comes back? What then?

“Why can’t you just slip inside me and get lost?” You whisper in his ear, your hands on his massive shoulders, pulling down, wanting to fit as much of him as they can. “Why isn’t that good enough?”

His hands are on the move again traveling south—cupping your mound with one palm, cursing at the sensation of your hot pussy on his fingers. He presses one of them between your lips, feeling your slick, rubbing the bundle of nerves that sends you over the edge every time.

Your knees wobble. He keeps you steady, holds you around the waist. You let him suck on your neck, lick down to your collarbone, all the while his fingers work on you, juices making a mess on his jeans, a leg propped to keep your thighs open.

“You’re afraid, sweetheart,” he says hoarsely, taking your mouth in his again. You let him. You let him do everything. You moan and you writhe and you come apart, and he’s patient, so patient with you.

“Don’t know what the word means,” you retort, ever the hard headed woman he fell in love with.

He chuckles lowly, letting you unzip him, before throwing you on the bed, and climbing after you, his broad figure over yours, unspoken promises and so many fucking things he’s yet to do to you.

“Of course you don’t,” he says affectionately, staring into your soul. “Fear, commitment, obedience—lost fucking concepts.”

You hum, wiggling your hips so your cunt is level with his swollen erection. “Never stood a chance.” When you grab him in your hand, big, so, so big and ready for you, he hisses and clamps a hand over your wrist, stopping you.

“As much as I wanna bury myself into this tight little fucking pussy right now—” He brings that same hand that held his cock to his lips, kissing your open palm. You ogle, surprised, speechless. You’re leaking so bad you feel the covers soaking underneath you.

“Shut your mouth for a second,” he demands sharply, seeing you’re about to rebute. “I need to make fucking sure first—Do I have your full consent to try something new?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You groan, aching with how empty you are, as you try to grab hold of his dick and shove it inside you, to end your suffering. “Chris, are you fucking—we’ve screwed fifty ways into the sun, now’s your time for this?”

He says nothing. He waits with a pained look, a sort of self inflicted wound, like he’s the one scared, like he’s risking everything here.

“Yes,” you let up. “Okay, yes.”

“I love you.”

He might've as well slapped you. It would’ve had the same effect.

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Chris, this isn’t funny.”

“I love you.”

You’re drowning. You’re going down under, sinking, sinking, filling up with water, and your lungs aren’t working properly, and there’s a solid case of hysteria twisting in your gut, and you’re suddenly very, very afraid of letting it get out, because if it does—if you crack open and it explodes—it’s going to ruin the perfect fucking quiet around the words the man on top of you won’t stop saying.

What is it that he’s saying again?

You can’t hear over the liquid in your ears.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, grabbing you by the hair and smashing your foreheads together. “You hear me? Forget about it. You’re mine, and I’d fucking eviscerate for you, and you have me. All of me, angel.”

His tip teases your entrance and you buck into him, delirious for friction, delirious for anything other than words you’ve no idea what to do with, words you’ve never been good at. He kisses you roughly, and bites your bottom lip, your cheek, your ear.

“I’m a pain in the ass,” you say way too loudly, maybe, and it comes out high pitched and dismayed.

Chris, attuned to you and your needs, buries inside your cunt to the hilt with one swift movement and stays there, elbows digging into the mattress on either side of your face. He’s smirking, and it reminds you—you hate his stupid, handsome face. So much. So much you can’t live without it.

“Very,” he agrees, and one of his big hands reaches down to cup your ass, squeezing savagely.

“You hate my hotheadedness.”

He shakes his head, working you up to a quick pace, just how you like it.

“I’d be a terrible—girlfriend,” you force the word out like it burns you. “I’ll drive you up a wall.”

Chris smiles, and hushes you. “Already done that,” he murmurs softly. “I’m beyond myself.”

Oh. “Which is why you’re talking crazy! Look, I can’t—”

His mouth is on you before you can get anything else out. It stays on you for a long time, just as his cock plunders you, the taking savage, selfish, like this—you, you—should’ve been his from the very first moment, completely, thoroughly, unreservedly, because he swears, he fucking promises—as soon as you entered the threshold of his shop, a wild and panicked thing looking for a person—him, him—to assist you and your smoking car, so goddamn clueless about motor oil and antifreeze fluid and their part on keeping a vehicle running—he’d been irrevocably, stupidly yours.

And now, as you are, naked and arching, and moaning under him, lost to your pleasure, he understands why he brought you here. That night, and all the nights after. You’re in possession of so much more than you think, so much more than he’s willing to lay bare in front of you. Not only his heart, the foolish thing he wears on his sleeve and has given away so willingly time and time before, no. Something vital, something that beats inside him similar to the drumming of the bleeding muscle, but which has no name, no etymology, just a vast sense of dreadful blackness that fills him with terror as the truth grips him—there’s absolutely not a single fucking thing he would not do for you, for your safety.

The dark, and the buried. The voice that wraps his hand around your pretty neck and squeezes, the voice that tells him you can take it, the thing that drives him over the edge, the very thing that turned deadly earlier at the bar when that man wouldn’t take the fucking hint. All his mortal, destructive tendencies—they’re yours to do as you please, to pull and tug and maneuver. You have the shadows of his mind dancing to your whims, obeying you like a rotting dog would a master.

And you have no fucking idea, do you?

Fingers sink into the supple skin of your hip, the rest of him God knows where, impossible to tell as he ravages your sleek cunt, pistoling with the ferocity of a man unhinged, a man pathetic enough to think he can possibly carve a place for him inside of the body he wants to dominate more than anything else, against his greedy nature for the rest of the world and all it offers.

He’d rather stay here, in this ratty motel room, wasted on you, until he can remember nothing but your name and how good it feels on his lips.

“Chris . . .”

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles against your open mouth, a hand coming to push away strands of hair from your eyes, the touch raw, tender, like a self inflicted wound. “So damn beautiful . . .”

You meet him halfway, your face wide with a feeling that twists like a knife inside him.

He fucks you slow then, his cock moving torturously unhurried, deliberate, a sedation you can’t help but fall into, a lulling pace, something dangerously close to—

“I’m scared,” you let yourself admit, your forearm falling over your face, embarrassed, overflowing with dread for what you promised yourself you were never going to succumb to, the emotion red and pumping and terrifying, terrifying.

Chris grabs the arm obscuring you from him and pins it above your head, measuring you with steady eyes, determined to make you see, to make you understand.

“I know,” he says, and it sounds a lot like: me too.

There’s no stopping the tears now, and he won’t even give you a second, not a single moment—he’s still burying you alive, wrapping you in his scent and his words and his coffee eyes, warm warm warm, scalding, and your body betrays as it always does, because you—because it’s—

“You could hurt me,” you whisper. “You could hurt me really badly.”

“Never.” His arms wrap around your waist and bring you over him, on his lap, the change of position delightfully unbearable, his entire length so incredibly deep, so much deeper than before. “It took me a long time to find you, angel, to bring you here.” You move against him, falling against his shoulder, and he holds you, he lets you do whatever you want. “Never, you hear me? (Y/N) . . . fuck, baby.”

“I’d let you,” you continue, sadly. “I’d let you do anything.”

He shushes you, leaving a kiss on the top of your spine, and leans back on defined muscle, arms flexing under his weight. When he focuses on your body and how it arches on his dick, watching you ride him, swallowing him deep in your folds, grabbing onto his thighs for support—he loses it.

“You’ve no fucking clue how you look right now, baby girl . . . Fuck on me, c’mon, that’s it, that’s it, you’re almost there, let me see you . . .” There’s a high you’re chasing like no other—no one’s ever been able to give it to you like the man opposite you, coaching you to your release. It’s unbelievable how blind you’d been; to accept what he offers, meant accepting this too, letting it in, a flash flood endangering everything you’ve believed, tearing through and down your walls, demanding, never angry, yet somehow always horrific.

His rough hands grab your hips and slam you on his rock hard cock, determined to finish this, to show you there’s no room to regret, to backtrack and run off the minute it’s done—because you might, because he knows, because he’s not going to let it happen and you’re a little more grateful every time he meets your eye with glorious belief that this, you you you, can become something else, something more, something potentially wonderful.

If you let him. If you allow.

Nothing but your labored breathing and the sound of skin on skin, then—a growl, raspy and guttural, as his body stills and he shudders inside you, hot semen spilling down your thighs, where you meet. It’s hard to swallow but you manage, as your own heartbeat sounds erratic, your own release mixing with his, the smell musky and erotic. His chest collides with yours, sweaty, ripped, and you blush, despite yourself, refusing to curl in his arms how he wants you, how he’s trying to have you.

His mouth is everywhere, peppering open mouthed kisses on your shoulders, your neck, your hair, and his hands, that intoxicating touch that silences you every time, it climbs to your cheek turning your head so his lips can find yours. You try really hard to find it in yourself to stop acting like this; like you’re under his spell with no escape, but it’s a weak argument and an even weaker case.

Something changed. Something changed and you let it.

“I don’t have to hear it back,” he murmurs in your ear, content to just have you as close as possible, if you’re not willing to face him fully yet. “All I want is you.”

“You deserve better,” you argue numbly, staring at the point where he ends and you begin. “This is—”

“—whatever you want it to be,” he finishes for you, reassuring you.

You shake your head.

He sighs, patient.

“Got on your nerves already?” You ask, a bitter smile stretching your features.

Chris fists a handful of your hair and smashed his mouth on yours, rough and heated. You gasp into him and melt almost immediately.

“Every—single—day,” he rasps, in between breaths. “Fucking torment me,” and then, manners an afterthought, “Please.”

You snort.

He bites your lip as punishment.

#bang chan scenarios #bang chan smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #bang chan #chan scenarios #stray kids #skz scenarios #skz smut #bang chan fanfic #chan smut #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #—mine.

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ellecdc · 3 months ago

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hii!! i rlly like your writing and was wondering if you could do a request ? remus (or wolfstar ) x reader where its like posthogwarts and she went to a diff wizarding school and the wizard thing was hush hush cuz she was a muggle, but then one day she like accidentally uses magic and they were like “ omg wait what” and like yeah. anyways pls feel free to ignore this its a very odd request LMAO. thank you so so much for taking the time to read this !!! (im sorry if this sounds weird i dk how to talk to ppl) ok bye 🫶

this was a very cute prompt! thank you so much for your request and your patience in my writing it!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who they believe to be a muggle [1.8k words]

CW: fear of werewolf prejudice, fear of muggle born prejudice, I also included a line in French and you can find the translation at the bottom of the work

Sirius knew that they were, perhaps, being a little bit selfish by keeping such a big secret from you.

Statute of Secrecy be damned, they were well beyond the point in your relationship where they could have (and likely should have) told you that he and Remus were wizards (oh, and, while we’re at it, Remus turns into a beast once a month so there’s that, too).

And while their friends all suspected it was Remus who was hesitant to tell you the truth on account of his lycanthropy, it had actually been Sirius who kept procrastinating the long overdue conversation.

But Sirius had to admit that he was very scared to tempt fate, because meeting you had been a complete fluke and he wasn’t willing to muck it up by scaring you off. How many times in one life did someone get the chance to meet a perfect angel?

Sirius had already met Remus which felt like nothing short of destiny, and then they met you, and that felt prophetic. And who was Sirius to mess with the prophecy?

“You cannot chicken out tonight.” Remus muttered as Sirius rapped on your door, earning him an indignant scoff from his boyfriend.

“I’ve never once chickened out in my entire life, thank you very much. That’s why I was sorted into Gryffindor.”

Remus merely snorted. “Sure, that’s why this is our seventh attempt at breaking the news, yeah?”

Sirius refused to look at Remus before banging (slightly louder) on your door once more before you finally opened up.

Gods you were so bloody beautiful; smiling like you couldn’t physically be any happier that your two boys were here, eyes excited and bright and so full of love and fuck sakes he couldn’t do it.

“Hey dove.” Remus greeted for the both of them, seeing as Sirius’ brain was short circuiting on account of your beauty and loveliness, pressing a kiss to your hairline and all but shoving Sirius past the threshold of your door. “It smells amazing, what are you making?”

Your smile seemed to grow impossibly brighter at the praise. “A vegetable bake! It’s sort of Mediterranean, and I’m making pasta to go with it.” You explained excitedly, and Sirius honestly felt like he was going to start overflowing with the amount of fondness he had for you.

“You going to say hello to our girl, Siri? Or are you just going to keep staring at her?” Remus taunted as he walked further into your flat to place the flowers he was carrying for you in a vase - the routine of bringing you bouquets every time they visited so practised that he knew where to find your vases.

“Of course, gorgeous. Sorry for being rude.” He murmured as he pulled you into his chest and breathed you in. “You’ve got to stop answering the door looking so bloody beautiful; I completely forget myself.”

You giggled into his chest and then leaned on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips that he - the selfish bastard - didn’t find nearly enough before he pulled you into a second deeper, lingering kiss.

“It’s good to see you, Sirius.”

Sirius sighed happily - because really, it was even better to see you - as he shuffled the two of you towards the kitchen Remus was now fussing in.

“Beautiful!” You cheered as Remus positioned the bouquet in the middle of your kitchen island; and Sirius could see the mischief in Remus’ eyes even if you couldn’t.

“Just like you, dove.”

And, quite possibly one of their favourite sights, they watched you turn bashful as you opted to fuss with the arrangement instead of looking at either of them.

“Listen, sweetheart, we were wondering if perhaps before we eat, we could chat with you about something?” Remus decided to rip the bandaid, and Sirius wanted to hex him for the way your body tensed and you looked at him with what appeared to be mild horror.

“Oh- uhm, okay, yeah, sure that’s… that’s fine.” You stuttered as you moved to the kitchen table to take a seat, both boys following obediently.

Sirius watched as Remus moved last week's bouquet - which Sirius had secretly cast a stasis charm over so that they would last longer - out of the centre of the table and closer to Sirius so that they could both have a better view of you.

“Is…everything okay?” You asked cautiously as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt. Sirius wanted to throw up.

“Of course, dovey.” Remus assured you, though it was Sirius’ thigh he gave a comforting squeeze under the table. “We just know that we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and we’ve grown to care about you quite a lot- you know that, right?”

Sirius watched as the divot between your brows only deepened as you nodded hesitantly. “So much, gorgeous; we care about you so much.” He insisted when it didn’t look like you truly believed them.

“But we just, well, we haven’t been completely honest with you, is all. And now that we’re at this point in our relationship, we…we feel like we owe it to you to be honest.” Remus continued, clearly beginning to feel just as out of his depth as Sirius was.

Your face fell completely blank, though Sirius could tell you were still tugging nervously at your shirt sleeve.

“Baby, I swear this isn’t bad, we- I rather think I’m in love with you, and-”

But as Sirius went to reach his hand over to rub at your arm in a way he hoped to be comforting, he ended up knocking over the vase stationed in front of him.

It didn’t break, thank Merlin, but it did topple over before Sirius could catch it and the water poured over the table.

Remus went to stand quickly to avoid being soaked, but no sooner had he pushed his chair away from the table was the vase floating towards you and the water completely vanished.

Not looking at the boys in front of you, you righted the vase and repositioned the florals to your liking before looking up at Remus who was now standing and staring at you owlishly, and Sirius who was gaping at you from his seat.

“Did you just-” Sirius started, voice no more than a whisper, but was quickly cut off by the sound of a timer in the kitchen.

You waved your hand in that direction mindlessly before sinking back despondently in your chair and staring down at your lap, the timer silent.

“Y/N.” Remus rasped. “Did- was that…are you a witch?”

You appeared to flinch as if you’d just realised what you’d done before you looked up; all colour seemingly draining from your face.

“What? I-” You started with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about? There’s no such thing as witches…”

But Sirius knew what he saw, the first could have been an accident - a trick of the mind - but the second act of magic was all the confirmation he needed.

Silently, Remus summoned the vase of flowers towards him before charming them to dance to imaginary music, plucking one from its stem and turning it gold before reaching across the table to put it behind your ear as you gaped at him.

“You’re…a wizard?” You whispered in disbelief.

At that, Sirius stood and spun, turning into Padfoot and panting excitedly at your feet as his tail whacked against the table leg with every wag.

A wet laugh escaped you before either boy realised you were wiping your eyes.

“Oh my gods?”

“Awe, dovey.” Remus cooed as he moved over to Sirius’ chair so he could take your hands in his. “Don’t cry.”

“Is this what you guys were going to tell me?” You asked cautiously, hopefully.

Padfoot melted back into Sirius, but he stayed kneeling at your feet as he rubbed soothing stripes up and down your calf. “Yes, baby; this was it.” He assured you. “I’m sorry we scared you.”

“So, that boarding school you went to in France?” Remus asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Beauxbatons.” You confirmed with a nod of your head. “And your boarding school in Scotland?”

“Hogwarts.” The two boys chorused, and you all let out a chuckle.

“It’s almost embarrassing that didn’t give it away right there.” You laughed breathlessly.

“Since we’re, uh, being honest about stuff…” Remus continued, trailing off awkwardly as he shared a grimace with Sirius. “I’m also, well, I’m also a werewolf.”

“Oh.” You breathed quietly.

Sirius held his breath as he watched you consider this before you nodded your head decisively.

“I’m muggleborn.”

Sirius and Remus shared a quick look before Remus let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Is that- …what?”

“Baby, are you trading that information like we might think that’s a negative?” Sirius teased you lightly.

“I suppose it depends on who you ask…” You whispered, and both boys softened.

“Not us, dove.” Remus offered. “Good.” You smiled at him. “Then me too.”

“Is that really how you feel about it? About me?” Remus asked quietly.

“No, it’s not how I feel about you.” You denied. “J'ai l'impression de tomber très amoureux de toi.” You admitted shyly, and Sirius couldn’t be held responsible for the mortifying cooing sound that resonated from the back of his throat.

He grabbed your face roughly and started peppering you with kisses: “how”, a kiss, “did we”, a kiss, “manage to find”, another kiss, “the most brilliant and beautiful witch”, kiss kiss kiss, “in the whole world?”

You were giggling and trying - not very hard, mind you - to pull away from Sirius’ ministrations when you stilled and let out a gasp.

“What?” Both boys paused.

“Supper!” You nearly shrieked as you went flying into the kitchen, muttering to yourself in French as you turned off the stove top and fussed with various pots and dishes.

“I am so unbelievably in love with her.” Remus murmured, eyes glued to your form as you danced through the kitchen.

Sirius scoffed as he leaned against his boyfriend with his arms crossed, feigning nonchalance. “I can’t believe you were so scared to tell her.”

Sirius didn’t need to look at Remus to know he was glaring at him; he could feel it.

But he also felt his heart grow three sizes when you turned to look at both of them with a beaming smile and a steaming dish in front of you, completely unphased that one of your boyfriends was a werewolf even though as a witch you knew exactly what that meant. And not only were you unphased, but you were still falling in love with them regardless.

Sirius had admittedly been very scared to tempt fate, because meeting you had been a complete fluke and he didn’t want to muck it up by scaring you off. Because really, how many times in one life did someone get the chance to meet a perfect angel?

If meeting Remus had been destiny, meeting you was prophetic; and who was Sirius to mess with the prophecy?

(translation: I feel like I’m very much falling in love with you).

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simonbrain · 1 month ago

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nothing made sense before you. it was like a fog permanently rested over simon—a dark, heavy cloud that weighed on his shoulders, constantly soaking him in his sins and grief. the cavity in his chest worsened the older he got, darkness spreading all over his heart until his ribs were nothing more than an empty cage, and he got better at ignoring the aching pain and the need to become someone meaningful. he fully accepted that he would die on the field and be forgotten, that he would become a fleeting thought, and the riley name would finally—properly—perish with him.

well, now that he thinks about it, he can't help but feel eternally grateful for you. how could he have lived like that?

the new life he leads now is nothing like what he was used to. he sits on the couch with a beer in his hand, the other resting on his full belly as a football match drones on in the back. pictures hang on the walls with your bright smile in each one. your scent sticks to everything in the house, especially on simon's shirts, and your plants and flowers sit on top of the shelves and table. the smell of toffee wafts into the living room, each wave making his nose perk up and water pool in his mouth even though he's certain he can't stuff anymore food down.

he's staring at you. he's watching the way you move around the kitchen—how there's not a lick of tension or stress in your body as you go about making the sauce for the sticky toffee pudding. your shoulders are relaxed, and you sway a little, humming one of your favourite songs as you stir the pot. you curse quietly when you accidentally burn yourself, and when you peek behind you to see if simon saw that—he did—you flash a bashful smile and return your attention back to the stove.

simon thinks you look so angelic like this. it's like you were crafted by the big man upstairs specifically for him, because he doesn't think he's ever felt so comfortable around someone in his life. he always feels so weak in your presence, his chest torn open for you to see him in his entirety, and he doesn't hate it. he doesn't hate being seen—not anymore. not if it's you casting your soft gaze upon him.

how can he thank you? how can he make it up to you for dragging him out of that hole he could never seem to claw his way out of? how can he ever explain how you cleared a way for him through the fog, how you soaked up the pain that kept pummelling down on his shoulders and transformed it into something misty and gentle, how you filled his chest with your everlasting joy until he finally felt his heart sing for the first time in years?

it will never be enough. he will never be able to repay you enough for the love and devotion you've shown him over the years, for the everlasting patience you had while he was still in the military, for the gentleness you've taught him through your own words and actions.

he's not a good man, and he doesn't deserve good things. but you've blessed him with your love and your tenderness, and he will never stop trying to make it up to you. he will love you fiercely and proudly; he'll flaunt the ring on his finger and carry a piece of your heart with him whenever he goes. he'll spend the rest of his life and the lives after that loving you.

when you bring him a plate of pudding paired with vanilla ice cream, he looks up at you with glazed heart-shaped eyes and brings you in for a sweet little kiss. you smile into it and return the love you feel radiating from him tenfold.

#i will never get sick of writing this trope <3 #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #rainwrites 𐙚

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bitchlessdino · 1 month ago

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stolen entries (m)

airing: fem!Reader x stalker!joshua

Genre: thriller, smut, stalking au

Word count: 10k

tags: PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T FOLLOW IN THE READERS FOOTSTEPS AND STAY SAFE. rated R for life RUINING, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND READ WARNINGS TO AVOID ANY TRIGGERING SUBJECTS, stalking, wrong just very morally black!joshua, dark imagery including but not limited to: implied and mentions of murder/threat, mentions of manipulation, mentions of blood, window sex and implied fear of falling out, possessive!joshua, pet names (angel, darling, ect), hair pulling, spanking, blowjobs/cunnilingus with consumption, face fucking, degradation, praise kink

Summary: Diary entries of a man in love. Joshua knew he loved you the moment he laid his eyes on you and had to have you, even if it meant enduring the echoes of every intimate detail of every sexual encounter you’d had before him. But he knew you were worth the wait. He was worth the wait.

author note: thank you @diamonddaze01 @wongyuseokie @tomodachiii @miabebe for betareading! mental health is great thank you for asking, im really excited to have been working on this and everyone involved in betaing have been so incredibly helpful. i hope yall enjoy and thank you again for your patience. <3

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys @idubiluranghae

Entry #3 - November 30th: White suits you.

You look so perfect the way you do. Perfect in white. Perfect in lace. Perfect. Perfect. Forgive me, darling, for being redundant. But that’s all you look to me. Perfect.

What wasn’t perfect was who you had in your room.

How perfectly imperfect.

But what was perfect was those sounds. So lewd. So perfect. Decadent. Enchanting you are, my dear. I wish I had been the reason for those sounds, but for now, I can only live vicariously through November 30th. He will only be known as November 30th. He doesn't deserve a name.

But, in a way, I should thank him. He’s satiating you now. He’s getting you ready for me as I’m getting ready for you.

Be patient, my sweet.

Entry #15 - December 15th: You like how it hurts.

I don’t like this one. He’s rude. Doesn’t even open the door for you. Doesn’t say thank you or please when he asks for something. Just dumps you into bed like you’re a ragdoll.

For some reason, you like that. You like that it hurts. You like it so much you scream his name. I’m forced to learn it.

Seokmin.

Seokmin. Seokmin. Seokmin.

Awful name. Awful on the tongue. I’d be better on the tongue.

But instead, he’s striking you. And I see red. In more ways than one. And you should be in agony, and I’d rescue you. But you’re laughing. You’re begging for more. You’re not fighting him to stop. You enjoy it too much.

So I’m watching again. But I’m not gonna like it. I don't like him.

But you like it. That’s what matters. I despise December 15th—what he does to you, how much you like it, and how much I could do so much better.

Entry #32 - January 1st: You like to teach.

Happy New Year, darling. You started off with someone young. Someone talkative. An amateur. You’re drunk, however, so I'm sure you’ll regret it in the morning.

But for now, you’re enjoying yourself yet again, and by god is it messy. He’s very messy. He touches you like he’s never had experience before, and you let him. I should resent you, but in no way can. You’re precious. My experimental little darling. I’m addicted to you. I must have you, and neither this Chan, Seokmin, nor Jeonghan can stop me.

But for now, I'm grateful the boy cut it short. Like the late bloomer is. How incompetent. But you made it a teaching opportunity. You’re quite good at it. And you made the boy work to your advantage. That’s so sexy. So you. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re also clever. Just like I knew you’d be. January 1st is a good kid. But he should stay in his lane before I push him into one.

Entry #45 January 13th: Dirty talk is a must.

This one is rather peculiar. Overly confident. And rather…annoying. Like a puppy without a leash. Drunk on ego and hard liquor with names I don’t even bother to pronounce. He’s pretentious and it’s clear in the way he undresses himself for you.

He treats you like he’s the only man in the world, and you’re simply beneath him, but I know you’re so much more. Yet, you encourage it. You encourage his… delusion that he’s this outstanding work of art.

You love how he narrates, how he talks to you as if you’re incompetent—degrading even—and you egg him on. “Good girl” this, “bad slut” that. It’s contradictory, but you enjoy it nonetheless. You get off on such obscenity. You’re euphoric from it. Although I hate to do such a thing and call you rancid names, I’ll have to ponder more creative versions.

Nonetheless, you like a bit of chatter, don’t you? Well, January 13th will have nothing on me, my little Angel.

Entry #78 - February 15th: You can keep going until you’re in ruin.

You’ve had a lonely month, and I do apologize, my darling, especially since it’s partially my fault. It is not my time just yet to have you. I must discipline myself first. Condition myself to cater to your every whim. And you have a lot of them.

You’re greedy. This one was utterly restless, I almost felt bad. His stamina had nothing on yours, darling, and I see that you can bite more than you can chew. You’re insatiable. I lost track of the hours that night. My knees, scraped raw and red against the rough concrete floor, as I stayed hidden in the shadows, waiting for you to finish, which you did. Again. Again. Again. Again.

I was starting to abhor this February 15th. What country did he save in his past life that earned him such devoted attention? Was he just that amazing? Did he make you 1000% satisfied? Would I have to kill him for that kind of love? Skin him and string him up like Christmas lights? It would be nice to prepare for the holidays early, wouldn’t it?

I’ll refrain for now. For your sake. But to keep up with you, my condition needs to multiply tenfold. I need to be able to be ready. Do what I need to to make indubitably and utterly mine.

M I N E.

Entry # 124 - April 1st: Toys are for adults too.

The joke was on me thinking you’ve changed your ways. Making love, or should I say primal sex, seemed to be something in the back of your head, but that wasn’t the case.

Instead, you fucked someone. A comedian nonetheless, and after he had finished his stand-up. You sat your pretty ass on the stool beside him, twirling your pretty strands of hair, batting your pretty lashes on that pretty face of yours. Just because it was April Fool's day doesn't mean you had to be the fool, my love. That was reckless.

But I suppose I learned something about you. Something you like in bed that you haven’t exhibited in others is that although you love a good laugh, it wasn’t fit for the bedroom. Sometimes, toys aren’t just a trickster's accessory but a vixen’s too. They are just simply different. Distinctly different.

Though a comedian’s job is to speak, you had him—well—gagged. Ball-gagged, no less. That was... intriguing. Enticing, to say the least, and you turned the whole performance into something far more captivating. There’s always something new I’m learning about you, love. And I can’t wait to show you what I’m capable of when I finally get my hands on you—and your toys.

Entry # 200 - June 14th: You could do it anywhere.

Keeping up with your summer antics wasn’t easy. Considering every precaution I’ve taken and every obstacle I’ve faced, I did everything from double-checking flight numbers to calculating the perfect distance to stay hidden. If only you could appreciate my efforts, love. I had to make sure my hiding place remained undetected—always just far enough to stay out of sight, but close enough to ensure your safety.

And while I thought a vacation with your family was the last place you’d do looking, you wound up somehow in your brother’s best friend’s bed. Seungcheol, was it? You really have no fear, do you? All while your family was all downstairs, you were getting your desserts while everyone was preparing for dinner, wondering where you were.

Or when it was time to go down by the beach and you had a little adventure in the dressing room of ‘Martha’s Swimsuit Boutique.’ The employees blamed the sounds on the old building fixtures or whatever was happening next door, but I knew what was happening in there. Hell, every person with working ears knew what was happening in there.

Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to forget you, to stop loving you, to forget you and how much you’ve hurt me. But I can't. No matter how much I want to or how many times I try, you're in my blood now. You're in my head, under my skin, and I can't rip you out. I don’t even want to.

You’re a part of me I can’t remove, like a vital organ. I just want you. I need you. I breathe you. If you want to do so much, I would take you right there on the dining table and wouldn’t care who watched, just to please you. Feel, taste, pound every part of you, from the red in your veins to cum that would flood in between my gums.

I D O N T K N O W H O W M U C H L O N G E R I C A N W A I T.

Entry # 237 - July 20th: At the end of the day, you want love too.

There’s no need to cry. He was never meant to have you is all. I must commend your brother. He beat that boy harder than I expected him to, but then again I would do a lot worse.

He didn’t deserve to have your heart. He was an idiot. I would never be like him. And you’ll realize that soon enough.

I would show you so much more. I can be so much more. I am so much more. My darling, I would travel to the next galaxy to have you, give you all that you desire, and make it so that the only tears you shed are the ones in bed when I prove to you how much you’re mine as much as I am yours.

Entry # 242 - July 25th: Today is the day.

Preemptively, I decided to go with a scent you’re familiar with. You've held out for weeks, even months, since your miraculous escape on July 20th. You’re stronger now, more confident, self-assured. very mindful, very demure. I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist saying it—just like you’ve repeated since locking yourself away. It’s cute, really. This whole ‘recovery’ thing, it suits you.

It’s like you were made to pique my interest and appetite. Even right now, as you’re outside the window of this restaurant, unsure if you want to enter because this was the one you’d frequent so often with him. Your favorite place to be since you were a little one.

I still can’t believe you decided to move back home. As if he hadn’t hurt you enough, you breathe the air he does? Watching him engage with the pretty blonde on his arm will not heal you, my sweet Angel. It is wrecking you. You should’ve left when you had planned to then.

I picked up my life and ran after you because I worried so much. I worried what would happen if I weren’t around to be with you. To make sure you’re okay. But I won’t have to anymore.

Today, I pretended to pick up a book you dropped to make eye contact with you, slipping a secret message I left on a Post-it inside. I hope you read it. I hope you reciprocate. And if you don’t, it had been all for nothing.

I’d be nothing.

Entry # 243 - July 26th: I love you.

You answered back, just like I thought you would.

“Hi :)” you said, with that cute emoji thing you do. How adorable.

For a moment I was worried, you wouldn’t but only a moment I promise. I would never doubt you. I have entire faith in you, you’d realize what this is. The fire I have burning for you.

I’m glad you’re giving us the chance to realize what we’re meant to be. I can’t wait for our first date. I’m so excited, I don’t even know what to write for today. I just want to live in the bliss of knowing that you finally see me. See me.

Entry # 244 - July 27th: You couldn't wait, and I almost gave in.

You tried kissing me. Put your hand on my thigh. Brushing against my–

I can’t be impatient. This journey can’t be rushed. No matter how much I want to push your head into the mattress and split you in half as you’re calling out my name.

The sooner I give in, the easier it is to make me a rebound. And I am no rebound.

I am meant to be your eternal. Your other half. Your perfect opposite.

Sleeping with you as soon as tonight would’ve tainted our beginning. You mean so much more to me than that.

Just know I want you so bad. I want to get to know you. I want to see you. For our future to start, we need to start this off right. You’ve signed up for a slow burn, my darling.

We are worth the wait.

Entry # 255 - August 7th: I love you more than I realize.

We are so good together. Even if the bag boy decides to flirt with you in front of me, and even if you entertain it a little, thinking I wouldn’t see.

You’re trying to punish me for being disciplined. It’s funny. The things I could do to punish you for testing my patience. Don’t pretend to be all innocent when you bend your ass towards me, leaning up against the conveyer belt to show off both your…assets. Give a show to me and that loud vest-wearing scum.

You think you’re so clever. So sneaky. And maybe you are. You’ve made quite the effort to conceal the truth about your previous relations. I like to think you’re doing it for me. For my sake. Because you’re so considerate. But I know the truth my darling. I know all I need to know about you. But I appreciate your efforts.

You really do love me. And somehow, I love you even more.

Entry # 297 - September 18th: You miss him.

You saw him today, and although you hid it, I could see it in your eyes. You miss him still. Like he was a scar etched into you, or a blood stain that was impossible to get out.

Did I have to kill him to rid you of thoughts of him? End your suffering by ending his life. It would be easy. So so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so easy.

I just can’t stand the way you look at him. A mere boy when a man like me is beside you.

Making you wait feels almost impossible now. Who the hell am I kidding? I’m the one who's waiting.

I just had to do one last thing before. Just one more thing. By then it would be final. And it would just be us. Forever.

You had been seeing Joshua for just a few months, but he was different from the guys you’ve met before. A genuinely good guy. Gentlemanly, even. You found it cute and maybe hot–absolutely hot. Nothing more attractive than knowing a man can keep his hands to himself.

But now, you found yourself wondering if he had not initiated because of something else. Since you’ve met, he’s always been the perfect gentleman, polite and thoughtful in a refreshing and frustrating way. It’s rare to meet a man who doesn’t leap at the chance to get you into bed, and while you found his restraint enticing and irresistible, it also left you questioning whether he’s just being courteous—or if he’s doing it on purpose to ward you off.

You’ve given Joshua every hint imaginable. The thong peeking out from your jeans when you bent over, the casual unbuttoning of your top whenever his eyes drifted your way—each move deliberate, strategic. You even threw in your signature look, those smoldering eyes that always did the trick, scanning his body as if you could ravage him whole, and you would. It had a flawless track record. Until Joshua, that is.

It made you want him more. Like he was making you wait, beg for his attention. Made you forget for a moment you were crying over Seungcheol some time ago. As if your heart didn’t shatter into a million pieces shortly before meeting Joshua.

Even when you saw Seungcheol briefly–so briefly–a part of you still missed your ex, but you craved being in Joshua’s arms more. Like medicine. Joshua was your medicine.

God, you needed him so fucking viscerally.

That’s when you decided. No more beating around the bush this time. It’s been four months too long. You had to have this man.

You decided to make a surprise appearance at his place–the address you just happened to "discover" on his driver’s license when he wasn’t paying attention. And, of course, you showed up wearing something kind of insane.

You know those movie scenes where the sexy love interest throws on an oversized trench coat with barely anything underneath, or sometimes nothing at all? Yeah, well... you decided to try that. And now you’re waiting outside of his apartment building in the autumn weather–freezing your literal ass off–waiting for him to get home to give him the surprise of his life.

It had been over an hour, and with each exhale, your breath hung in the air, a visible reminder of the cold. You hugged your coat tighter around your body, clutching it like it was the only barrier between you and freezing to death. And honestly, it might as well have been. Standing outside his building in practically nothing had your heart racing for all the wrong reasons.

Here you were trying to be all cutesy, sexy, and fun, and this damn man wasn’t even home. Were you out of your mind?

The anxiety was creeping in. The biting autumn air had found every exposed inch of your skin, and your confidence was sinking fast. Just when you were ready to leave this cringe-fest waiting to happen, and retreat to the warmth of your own home, you heard footsteps approaching from down the street. Your pulse quickened as you glanced up, and there he was, walking towards you in a long dark coat and sweater.

Joshua’s eyes met yours, his expression shifting from confusion to slow realization as registered you from his distance, watching you stand there bundled in your trench coat with something obviously beneath it. His lips parted slightly, his brow furrowed, but there was no judgment—just surprise, and more so curiosity.

You instinctively tightened your grip on the coat, pulling it closer around your nearly bare body as you leaned against the wooden front door that had been stubbornly keeping you outside. “Hey,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling slightly in the cold, watching your breath materialize in the air as a delicate cloud of frost.

“Hi?” His tone was cautious but amused as if he was trying to piece together exactly what was waiting at his doorstep. He shoved his leather-gloved hands into the pockets of his own coat, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “This is...unexpected. What are you doing here?”

You let out a shaky laugh, nerves bubbling up as you shifted on your feet, your bare thighs scraping against one another as they clenched. “Yeah, so... there’s a really good explanation for all of this, but, um...” You glanced down at yourself, then back up at him, feeling more exposed than ever. “Can I come in first?”

His place was disturbingly neat—psychopathically neat. It was the kind of spotless where everything seemed too perfect, like someone with more than a few screws loose needed complete control over their space. Every surface gleamed, not a speck of dust or a misplaced item in sight.

“Want something warm? Tea, maybe?” He politely offered with a warm smile.

You found yourself mirroring his smile, a giddy excitement bubbling inside you like a teenager with a crush. With a light skip, you made your way back toward him, the trench coat swaying around you like an oversized brown paper bag—so tempting to just shed it. “That sounds really nice. Anything would be good.”

“Okay. I’ll put on some Earl Grey for you.” His lingering smilewas the last thing you see before he disappeared in the kitchen, giving you the opportunity to learn more about the owner of the home.

Nothing was out of place. The walls were a sterile beige, devoid of any warmth or personality, while the furniture radiated with an unsettling shine that suggested it had never truly been used. Not a single wrapper marred the coffee table, nor was there a crumb in sight—everything was meticulously arranged as if he harbored an unyielding aversion to disorder. It felt more like a stage set than a home, the kind of place that made you wonder if anyone actually lived here, especially given the spontaneity of your intrusion.

Your blood ran cold. The longer you scanned the room, the more strange it felt to be standing there. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as unease settled in. You suddenly found yourself questioning why he was taking so long with the tea.

Your toes curled in discomfort as you glanced over to where Joshua had disappeared, and just then, he emerged from the kitchen, two mugs of steaming hot tea in either hand. He set them down on the coffee table with a practiced ease and settled onto the pristine couch behind him. “Have a seat. We can wait while the tea steeps.”

You nodded, a tight look on your face, and lowered yourself onto the couch beside him, accepting a cup and sipping on its deeply rich content. “Thank you.”

“Now, what brought you over here? I’m surprised you managed to find out where I lived...considering I never told you,” he said, his expression blank as he nursed his cup in his hands.

“Well,” you began, swallowing hard as the heat from the tea scalded your tongue and burned its way down your throat. “I’m not quite sure how to explain this, but…I found your driver’s license when it fell out of your wallet on one of our dates, and I kind of memorized your address? I thought I’d surprise you.” You paused, a nervous laugh escaping. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

He set his tea at the corner of the coffee table, and clasped his hands together, a teasing glint in his eyes hearing your confession. “Well... I commend you for not only your bravery in the doing and admitting fault, but it’s not that weird, actually. It’s kind of flattering.”

“Really? But I invaded your privacy. That’s invasive—almost illegal, isn’t it?”

For a fleeting moment, you swore you saw his fists clench, but then one of his hands slid over yours, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckle, quickening your heart rate. “But if I say it’s okay, then it’s okay. Right?”

Also, setting your tea aside, your other hand instinctively fell on top of his, the earlier discomfort and worry fading into the background. “I guess so.”

He shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. “You look cold. Would you like a hug to warm you up?”

“S-sure,” you managed to stutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you accepted his invitation.

As his arms enveloped you, you felt the raw strength he kept hidden beneath the layers of clothing. The warmth radiated from his body, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he tightened his embrace around you, holding you protectively–possessively even. You breathed in his scent, registering his cologne you were all too familiar with and something else you couldn’t put your finger on. For a moment, every trace of anxiety disappeared. Joshua had a way of making you feel secure again, of restoring that sense of safety you hadn't realized was what you were in search of.

You leaned into it, your breath fanning over the skin of his neck as your hand roamed up his back, eager to peel off his physical and mental layers keeping you from devouring him with reckless abandon. You wanted to pull him closer, to feel the reassuring weight of his body against yours, like your own personal shield. The conflicting urge to consume him entirely, to the point of exhaustion, while simultaneously cherishing every part of him was a dilemma you never anticipated facing—especially so soon after a breakup. Joshua stirred something deep within you, something you couldn’t even begin to explain, no matter how hard you tried.

When he let you go, the absence of his warmth was immediate, but the kind smile on his face remained as if reassuring you that everything was fine. “Better?”

“Yeah. That was nice,” you whispered, still holding his hands, both large and perfect.

“Good. Now. What was this surprise that couldn’t wait for a text or phone call?”

Now, a wave of nerves washed over you once more.

Your hands fiddled with the straps keeping your attire in place, and you hesitated before standing before him, mustering up the final bit of courage you had left in place of your dignity. “Well, I wasn’t quite sure if you were just being the polite gentleman who could ‘do no wrong’ or if you’d been completely oblivious to the hints I’ve been throwing your way since our first date. But I’m here making it as clear as possible for you, Joshua Hong.”

With a determined tug, you loosened the tie that held your closure in place, letting it slip from its knot and revealing the reason you felt goosebumps up your legs. Your breasts bulged out of the lacy fabric, leaving almost nothing to the imagination and hugging parts of your body the man before you had only seen in passing through a window. The pillowy flesh spilling from your decorated underwear left him with a sensation that wrapped around Joshua’s throat and clenched.

He couldn’t feel himself breathing, drinking in your exposed skin, admiring the bright white of the lingerie complimenting your skin as it clung on to you seamlessly, while the trench coat finally found itself where it belonged on the ground. He sank the couch behind him as you came closer, wordlessly tracing every curve, dotting every mole, noting every mark or scar as you loomed over him in feigned innocence. The only air he could draw was his ragged breath, his hands aching to touch you.

“I would love nothing more than to have your hands all over me,” You said with a sultry edge, dripping with obvious intent.

Your knee dug into the couch's cushion, the other following and taking residence in Joshua’s lap as he simply watched. His eyes softly blinked back up at you as you settled into him, having him melt under every word you spoke.

“Is that so?” He asked calmly, physically refraining himself, and ignoring the dark thoughts clouding his logic.

You threw your arms around his neck, gazing down at him as you shifted in his lap. “I do. It’s all I can ever think about anymore. Ever since these last four months.”

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, like steam escaping from a kettle.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“...Am I supposed to say something more?”

“How about–I don’t know. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to say that the whole time,’ or ‘I feel the exact same way, tongue wrestle me until we pass out.’ Give me something,” You begged.

He shrugged, playing up his ignorance. “Doesn’t sound like me? Does it?”

“Is this really all you can talk about? A girl in her best lacy underwear–in white mind you–sitting in your lap like she’s accepting ones in a night club, and you’re fixated on your characterization?”

He shrugged again as if taunting you, the smile on his face growing sinister at your agitation. “I have poor depth perception.”

You groaned, your body feeling heavy as you slumped against him, ready to slide off his lap in defeat. “I give up.”

But just as you were about to peel away from him, you felt a firm pair of hands steady you, anchoring you in place. Joshua’s eyes sharpened as his grip tightened, fitting your body in the curves of his palms. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You blinked back at him, confused yet oddly at home in his touch, despite the rapid beat of your heart suggesting otherwise. “I thought–I kinda thought you wanted nothing to do with me,” you reluctantly answered.

His cool palm slid against your flushed skin, trailing up your body and igniting a path of fire that battled the waves of chills following up your spine. Instinctively, you fell forward, involuntarily pressing your lace-clad chest against the cashmere of his sweater and finding purchase back around his broad shoulders, which looked bigger than usual. A soft squeak passed your lips as he tugged you towards, fitting your bodies together like pieces of a puzzle.

“You couldn’t be more wrong.” His hands grasped the sides of your thighs as he tucked them around his torso, not once breaking eye contact.

You felt a cold sweat trickle down your skin, your body stiffening as you focused solely on the soothing tenor of Joshua’s voice. “I always see how you look at me, Angel.” His fingers carded through your hair, pushing it to one side and delicately grazing over the fullness of your breast. “And I love how you look at me.”

“Josh,” Your voice emerged softer than you expected, almost tinged with a plea as you drew closer.

“And believe me when I say this, darling, I’ll always want something to do with you. I want everything to do with you…if you let me.”

You felt his hand somewhere you’ve only ever imagined: at the hook of your bra before he slowly started to unlatch it, the straps falling off your shoulders as your support came undone. You were grateful to be pressed so close to him. Otherwise, your entire upper body would be entirely nude. Entirely exposed. You tucked your arm over your chest, gaze dropping at the perceived proximity until Joshua gently moved you by the chin to meet his eyes.

“Don’t.” He quietly demanded, purposefully moving away, and the undergarment fell from your body, your nipples christened by the chill air conditioning. “So perfect.”

His hand hovered over their shape, only ghosting over them but not nearly touching, yet either bud tensed at their mere presence. You exhaled shakily, your breath uneven and impatient, as your eyes suddenly drifted away, overwhelmed by an unexpected rush from his uncharacteristic attention.

“You don’t want to know how much I imagined putting you in my mouth.” His pursed lips landed on your collarbone in an open mouth kiss, gently pulling you between his lips.

You softly moaned, unfurling your digits before they slid up his neck. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t do anything but—you felt his mouth latch onto you, teeth burying into your flesh. You parted your lip in another moan, instinctively reacting to the familiar concoction of pain and pleasure exhibited by previous partners, but this was Joshua. Gentlemanly Joshua.

He bared his hand flat against your back, dipping your body towards the coffee table and pressing urgent kisses to the hollow of your neck, lingering against the pulse of your throat and digging his hips into your pelvis. Your hand roamed over his body, cradling his head and pressing him closer against you as your knee hooked around his waist.

Joshua swung his hand behind you, knocking over the mugs with a loud crash, sending tea spilling everywhere on the ground as the flat surface of the coffee table urgently met your exposed back. It stung how cold it initially was until the weight of his body stunned you, leaving you impervious to everything else. He grabbed your side, wrestling with the skin of your clavicle as his hand ran harshly over your erect buds, grinding them under his palm.

In between your legs, you felt warmth—the kind that makes a show when you could only think of being rammed at 100 miles an hour—and you felt it soak in the fabric of the lace, flossed between your folds when you were desperate for friction. “Joshua, please…” you cried.

He shoved away the useless bra now just hanging off your body before his lips curled around the curve of your breasts, kissing their underside as his thumbs fiddled with their sensitivity. Your knees bent towards you, your hips pulsating against his thigh as his tongue taunted you, flicking over the texture of your nipples and nipping at the tips as he pulled with his teeth. You whimpered, body falling limp on the table as he nursed you between his lips, his eyes piercing back at you lewdly as an occasional moan would leave his lips.

“Tell me how you like it. Teach me.” He spoke with a quiet, commanding authority.

“Y-you seem to be doing a good job so far.”

He smiled, running his hand through your hair before it gripped between his knuckles, sending a rush of ache from your scalp. Your eyes shot up to meet his, a blend of fear and arousal flashing through them, but you were quickly soothed by the gaze he held, sultry and unshakable. “Should I be mean then?” He offered.

You let out a brief yelp after his hand swatted over your plush thigh, your flesh spilling between his fingers as he squeezed. The bridge of your nose touched your speechless expression, lips tracing over your face with a deep exhale. “Give you the kind of things you want? What I learned about you?”

“What have y-you learned?” you hesitated to ask.

His eyes glazed over you, seeing you melt at a simple glance before tenderly pressing his lips to yours, only sampling. You mewled in the depths of your throat, lips falling open as you kissed him for the first time, succumbing to the pillowy texture of his lips. His eyes partially open, he fixed his eyes on your features, how they contorted with his touch, reacting involuntarily to the rocking of his body against you. He was obsessed with the mere image of you.

“What I’ve learned, hmm,” he quietly pondered.

Giving him time to think, your hand cupped over his attached to your thigh, guiding it under you and around your ass, letting his digits outline the curve of your body. He chuckled and brought the other hand parallel, following his carnal urge to clutch you tightly in his grip. A smile melted on your face briefly, enjoying the sensation of his hands before he roughly pulled down your underwear before you could even gasp, leaving you truly naked.

“I’ve learned that when you want something, you take it.” His hands come down to the bottom of his sweater and pull it along with what’s underneath off of him.

His glistening tan reflected back at you, beads of perspiration coating his skin—likely a result of months of tension finally unfolding. As you took him in for the first time, the way the light and shadows sculpted his form accentuated his physique, leaving you stunned and curious about what else he might’ve been hiding from you.

“So take what you want from me, Angel.”

God, you really could swallow him whole in a single gulp.

You repositioned yourself, planted your knees on the table, and tugged him by his belt. Your once pleading eyes became determined as you fixated on tearing off his pants, starting by unbuckling his belt at the waist. Your eyes fluttered, seeing the bulge through his briefs, twitching in your presence while you fit a finger at the top hem. A sigh escaped you; glance briefly up at Joshua’s expression–full of patient anticipation–before wrapping your hands around his aroused girth.

“...You’ve been waiting for me,” you began to realize, seeing the cock firm up in your grasp.

He let out an amused hum, stroking the side of your head. “I wanted to make sure you wanted me.”

“Of course, I wanted you.” Your hand ran along his shaft, veins pulsing on the ball of your palm, and you pressed the head to your lips. “I just wanted you to show me you wanted me.”

Joshua’s groans barely escaped as your lips curved around the tip and more than gently kissed. His hand clasped around your head, moving it so your eyes could face his, seeing him come apart in front of you. From just your teasing. “Darling, if I did that…I’d never know when to stop.”

“Joshua. I’d never ask you to stop.”

His hand cupped your face, and you melted into his palm–absolutely reveling in the blind infatuation on your face before he made you face his arousal, cock grazing your chin before he pressed it past your lips. Your lips stretched around him like a rubber band, expanding to conquer his size but not with ease. Your hand covered his base and enveloping his length as much as you could.

“Angel,” he grunted.

He claimed the back of your head, leading your pace as you took him. Your hands clasped around his hips, fastening yourself to him. You could already feel your drool drip alongside your chin, becoming sloppy as you were fixated on his complexion: blissed with parted lips, looking at you like he’d been touched for the first time.

Your moans vibrated around him as he thrusted into you, momentarily breaching the air of his pelvis before he pulled you back, flicking his hips into your mouth and overcome with ecstasy. “My good little Angel,” he groans, breath hitching in his throat. “Taking my cock like you were made for me.”

He tugged your hair tighter as you felt the hilt hit the back of your throat, and you thought to yourself how much It would’ve hurt if you weren’t otherwise drunk with bliss. You buried him deep inside you, holding him with both hands, sobbing on him with such anguish that people would assume you hadn’t been fed for days.

Joshua’s pretty lips got caught in his pretty teeth, and the darkness in his eyes deepened to a richer, more intense black as a sense of reckless abandon enveloped him. “God…look at you…good little slut like you likes taking cock like mine, doesn’t she?”

The sensation of your mouth massaged him heavenly, having you taste the heady tang of his skin on your tongue while your nose tickled against his groin. He clutched your head, your whimpers and cries pulsating around his girth, fucking your mouth until you hit the base. You looked up, pliant and willing, as tears swelled in your eyes, cheeks hot to the touch, and a thick sheen of slobber over your lips.

You’re precious. And his. All his.

He pried either of your hands off him and restrained them above your head, carrying the weight of his control in his hips, crushing your mouth against his lap. While one hand had stabilized your wrists, the other back fell back in your hair, fucking your pretty mouth until he couldn’t anymore.

Joshua felt his name muffled around his cock, staring back at you as you repeated his name, desperation echoing from your throat, but not to stop–oh no, he recognized this stare. He held you towards him, cutting your airways with hardly a second to breathe. Your eyes fluttered. Pupils began to roll to the back of your head as his cock slid down your throat, bottoming out inside you for the first time.

“You want my cum, don’t you? You’re so damn obvious you do,” he taunted in an unfamiliar tone, foreign to you but nonetheless welcome.

You hummed confirmation around the girth, practically whining with full cheeks.

“Angel, you know what it means when I do, right?” he loomed over you, as your mouth was still pressed against him in an abrupt halt, still tasting all of him. “Do you understand what you’re getting into? The second I cum inside you–mouth or cunt–you’re mine. Are you ready for that responsibility?”

You nodded, impatience singeing your tongue.

“Really?” The fingers threaded through your hair pulled you off, giving you the sharpest intake of oxygen before you fell right back where you belonged with a slam. The pain in your throat caused it to go hoarse, and the tears once swelling in your eyes streamed down your face. “You better mean it, darling. Words aren’t just a promise to me; they’re a vow.”

His final thrusts were steady but harsh, pressing his size inside of you until you gagged, and finally, when he was merciful, you felt his hot stream coat your throat. His hips found their falter, plunging in and out of you–the cum dribbling down your chin until he finally let you go, prying you off him and giving you a moment of rest sprawled on the coffee table.

But only a moment.

His hands wordlessly caressed you, body drained from release, but mind hungry for your essence. Every word he’s ever said in this exchange, he’s meant with every fiber of his being, down to his very core.

“Tired, darling? We’re only getting started.”

You softly chuckled, a tired smile reappearing for the first time in a while. “I’m in for a lot with you, aren’t I?” you asked, strain evident in your voice.

“You’re asking that question far too little too late, Angel.”

His lips puckered to met yours in a gentle kiss, then another, then another. You held him against you, not minding how disheveled you looked with your pulled hair and mascara streaks staining your cheeks, it was your turn.

Joshua found your body easily in your liplock, gliding his hands up and down your body in rushed motions as if memorizing you by touch. Your dips, your curves, your angles. There wasn’t one part of you he dared to miss. And you smiled, you chuckled, so lust blind to see the symptoms forming before your very eyes as if they weren’t already there. He swallowed your laughter, tasting victory on your tongue, and nuzzled in the crook of your lips. “Can I do the things I'm willing to do for you–what I’m willing to do to you?”

You cupped his face, an impish grin on your face. “Stop asking and fuck me like you love me, Joshua.”

Gladly.

He held either of your legs at his side, fingers aligning your folds and splitting in half. If they didn’t already look big, they most certainly felt big. A single digit only traced along your slit, and your hips buckled, fluttering at the sliver of taste.

“I’ve barely grazed you, and you’re like a flood down there,” he quietly teased, pushing in his index halfway.

You clenched around him, then around nothing, and he repeated, effortlessly stealing your breath with every move. You anchored yourself to the edge of the table. “You know exactly why, Josh.” You whimpered.

He then pushes in the full digit–reaching deeper than you expected–and you convulse around him. Your head snapped back, the phantom strings of Joshua’s nasty habits–already acquainted with your body–pulling you in without warning. “Oh my god.”

“You’re so easy to please. As if I know everything about your body without you telling me.” He thrusted his finger, cultivating a rhythm he knew would be perfect for his little darling.

“It’s as if…we’ve known each other forever.” You stated in your countless, staggered breaths.

“Forever…” he plunged another finger, feeling you flutter around him delightfully, “with you?”

His smile, that unsettling perfect smile, pressed a tender kiss against your lips. “I rather like that. Me and you. Forever.”

You quietly laughed before tugging him into a deeper liplock, gently slotting your finger through his hair, not worried about ruining its pristine as you pulled him closer. “I’ll take you and me forever.”

“Now, angel–” you took the hand he had inside you to guide him faster, deeper, your language becoming gasps and moans in a matter of seconds.

He didn’t bother finishing his thought, too enraptured by your demanding hunger, that he pressed on further, feeding you his digits as you swallowed each one by one. His thumb caressed your pulsating bud for extra good measure, taking pleasure at how often you shake when he does, and rammed his fingers deeper in you, finally hearing what his name sounds like in a state of bliss.

He’s overcome with pride–nay–overcome with triumph. The way you look at him with such an utterly lewd expression, your delicious scent a thick film on your body that he couldn’t help but want to lick and devour and engorge. He didn’t need to have another orgasm for another second if it meant seeing you come apart the way you were right now.

“Joshua!” you cried, body shaking as if you were glitching, having an out-of-body experience, and you undid yourself the way he did: utterly and perfectly euphoric.

You creamed his digits with nectar, milky and fair, and he didn’t wait a second for them to enter his mouth, knuckles deep. His eyes fell shut from elation, moaning around his hands, and he caught even the slightest drop down his wrists.

You were fucking–

“Magnificent.” He swallowed your lips once more, hungrily, arousal rushing down to his body again. “Perfect, my sweet little angel.”

“...forever. Me and you.” You repeated, not getting pass the conversation that was interrupted what felt like a millennia ago. “I’ll take you for forever. And that’s a vow for me, too.”

Joshua never expected this, such a scene of ease and pristine, seeing his future lie limp and happy and fucked. You had never looked so beautiful. After all the men you’ve met, all the bodies you’ve collided with, all the dicks you’ve sucked, you always had a glow. It’s why he tolerated such things, but to see that glow after him. It was the most radiating version of you. And to know you’ll have him. He was the happiest man alive.

“Oh, my darling.” He pulled you up from the table to sit you back in his lap, parting away your hair to clearly see your face smiling back at him even with the fatigue. “You are the most perfect thing.” he shook his head in disbelief, unsure how he got so lucky.

“Let me take you to bed, hmm?”

You quietly nodded, admiring him back all the same.

You wrapped your legs around him tightly, before lifting you both up from the ground and walked into his bedroom–just as unnervingly neat as his living room. Or should you say how neat it was. The bedroom presented its same beige aura, hardly a spec of dust in place, but the one extraordinary thing about it was the light casting from the window, beckoning over the entire city.

The second Joshua tossed your naked body on his bed, you immediately got back up, pressing your palms to the window to gaze down upon everyone through it. “You can actually see everything from up here! Wow.”

You heard Joshua chuckle behind you with his footsteps towards you to follow. “You like it, Angel?”

“It’s beautiful.” The glint in your eyes sparkled brighter than any star above you. “I’ve lived here almost my whole life and I’ve never seen it like this. I can even see my house from here! That's crazy.”

Joshua let out an indistinguishable scoff, immediately covering his mouth before coming behind you, his hand settling on your hips. “I got lucky with the lease. Best I’ve ever seen. I never thought to appreciate this view, but now I have a reason to.”

His kiss bloomed a familiar warmth across your face, and you leaned into his embrace, taking his arms around you as you shared the impeccable view. The city lights illuminated the streets, their people, their livelihood, and you never would’ve imagined seeing it if you hadn’t found Joshua’s address.

You belonged here somehow, as if it was meant for you. It truly did feel special. Joshua made it special.

You brushed your backside to his groin, feeling something already prod your side and you swore you felt yourself purr. Bodies still connected, you leaned into the glass, knee digging into the cushions of the window nook. Joshua followed after you knowingly, hand pawing your thigh as his lips drew to your ear, nipping at the tips.

Your moan, deliciously loud, was all the signal Joshua needed to keep going. He mouthed against your neck, one hand crawling over your chest and another reclaiming your sensitive heat. You doubled over slightly, palming and smearing your fingerprints into the flawlessly clear glass, its chill not disrupting the heat festering your body in the slightest.

Joshua had your body thrum in reaction to his fingers, hips wriggling to his touch, and he heightened the strokes on your already throbbing heat. “Josh, please.”

He groaned into the crook of your neck, the outline of his erect cock distinctly recognizable against your lower back. “I want to show whoever’s watching what you’ve done to me, Angel.” he slammed his fingers upright inside you before returning to his regulated pace. “Show what pretty little slut you become when you’re within reach of me.”

“Anything, Josh, anything. Anything for you to fuck me.”

He snickered, an empty darkness echoing inside the tone. “You asked for it.”

His body slammed up against you, hungrily biting along your skin as he nestled his cock between your slit as he entered. You sooner realized how fingers did his size no justice as they filled your cunt with strain. Your ass perked up behind him, not a moment longer before you were forced to adjust to his size with full thrust, holding you by your neck as his other arm cuffed you by your elbows.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, falling and bouncing back against him as his raw cock took you demandingly.

“This pussy,” he growled, his hand striking the full shape of your ass cheek where it still stung, “I’ve dreamt of this pussy.”

He buried himself in you, hitting the hilt deep with your core to the point your vision flickered back to your skull. Your legs parted wide, backing yourself against him until you were accepting every inch. “Fuck that feels so fucking good, don’t fucking stop.”

“Yeah? My slutty angel likes my cock pounding into her pretty pussy?”

“Yes, please, Josh, please give it to me. I love how you give it to me so good.”

“You beg like that,” he gritted his teeth. “I’ll have to properly deliver.”

You looked back at him and smiled, hair falling over your face and his thrusts made you a vision of lust, somehow gracefully breathtaking with his cock buried deep inside you. “You and me forever, right? Don’t stop now.”

Joshua was throbbing, practically beaming at your answer, and before you knew it, your chest was greeted with the frost-bitten window, now flattening against your breasts. Groaning upon impact, the tempered glass tensed your nipples, bringing them both to a hard point, now freezing and pebbling you from your arms to your legs.

Joshua’s body pinned you in place, and you felt his unnerving arousal slide up and down between your cheeks and pushing back up inside you. “I’ll show just how much you’re mine to the world.” His voice was still gentle yet demanding. “Only because you asked for it.”

His flat palm struck you again, pushing up your body and letting the echoes of your collision play in surround sound. Your body, already sore from earlier, knew no rest as you took him deeper, the cold intensifying the pleasure rushing through your body. Your hips swiveled, playing with his cock like a personal toy, and you braced the window in front of you willingly, blasting on an indefinite high.

“Thinking about how someone can see you up here?” He whispered. “Taking my cock like the precious little angel you are? Or letting me fuck you like the nasty fucking slut you are?”

You gingerly nodded, hugging the glass desperately to feel him deeper inside you.“Yes—fuck—I want someone to see us. The thought gets me so wet.”

“So vocal, angel,” he tugged the back of your head, devouring your lips. “My dirty little angel.”

He held your arms behind you, pressing your whole torso against the window, and every snap of his waist had you bending more and more to his will. Every inch of his body had you flushed against him, feeling him present you to the world below like a goddamn masterpiece.

His body slammed again, shaking the glass and flickering fear into your eyes briefly before he reassured you by catching your waist in his hands. “Scared?”

“A little,” you stammered.

“I’ve got you, angel. Just enjoy it.”

And you did, endlessly as his pace picked up again, and by the number of times he’s pushed you, flipped you, rammed you against the window, you were no longer scared of falling through. The fragility of the glass was no longer of concern. You had Joshua to distract you from the life-threatening circumstances with every inch of his being. You had Joshua to protect you from the infinite possibilities of something were to go wrong with the window in front of you shattering. You had Joshua to feel safe no matter how scared and unsure you were. You had Joshua.

Joshua. Joshua. Joshua.

“Joshua, you’re gonna make me cum,” you mewled in his lap. Your ass took its turn to be displayed as your flesh pressed against the thick glass, bouncing on his cock that stiffened up to no bounds inside you.

“Are you? Your pretty pussy is gonna come all over my cock?” His voice now rushed, heightened, signaling how ready he was to burst like fucking dam.

Your nod carried urgency, your hands clasping against his face in desperate pleas, admiring that face you’ve grown fond of, how you could see both light and darkness in them, filling you to the brim with an inexplicable euphoria that you craved with everybody you’ve ever encountered. “I want it. I want to come all over your cock and feel you come inside me too…Make me feel so good so full.”

“Yeah,” he moaned, hand threading through your hair tightly, you hummed in confirmation, bouncing harder as you dared take him by his full length. “This the best cock you ever had? The best one to put my hot cum inside you.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “No one else…no one else can fuck me like you like this. I want you to fill me with all your hot cum.”

“S-shit,” he cried, tugging your back by the wrists, and fucking up into you, the window behind you christened with your sweat and slick arousal.

He ached to cover all his bases, pounding you to malleable dough, he filled your walls with his oozing determination, and his screams of release followed when he shot his promise inside you. His hips faltered in deep, thorough pumps, claiming your body in his hands with intense anguish as he inhaled your skin in his tight, unwavering embrace.

You felt the warmth inside and out of you, like a rapid stream of water—only more viscous and rewarding as your hips bucked, twitching in Joshua’s locking hold, hardly breathing with the way he held you. You wrapped around him just as tight, letting go of him the last thing on your mind and savoring the trembling descent of your peaks.

There are then only sounds of your exchanged breathing, slowly coming down to Earth.

He lowered his forearms, bracing you from your lower back, and carefully lifted you from the nook to carefully lay you against his bed that felt like heaven enveloping your body. He crawled on top of you still, descending lingering kisses all along your body before his lips reached your tired heat, not even thinking of pleasuring you but doing it anyway as he lapped up the final remnants of tonight’s events.

His hums were pleasant vibration, wordlessly tasting every ounce of cum—yours or his, it didn’t matter—and swallowing it like a full meal, gently caressing your swollen clit. He couldn’t have enough of you, letting the brain fog control him until you started screaming in pleasure again.

You had to pull him by threads of his hair to stop, overstimulated by his unwavering hunger, and for a second that darkness was back in his eyes the deepest you had ever seen until they softened in concern, his grip loosening. “You okay?” he wafted in with concern.

“Yeah, it felt good, I just…you’re gonna kill me,” you lightly joked.

He softly laughed, leveraging him up and facing chest to chest with you, devouring your lips with that lingering tang of dominance still on his tongue. “Never…” he whispered with a smile, before he inhaled you for a moment longer, swallowing your moans, caressing your body.

He finally found his self-restraint and let you rest, offering to run a warm bath in the hallway bathroom. You turned to him, taking his hand in gratitude. “That would be really nice.”

“I’ll start one up for you.”

As he leaves, you sink into the bed, reveling in the sheets worn from your presence, and hear the water run in another room, smelling of the clean seat of soap, and nothing has ever felt so right.

“I’ll carry you,” he stated before picking you up from your neck and back to your knees into the bathroom that was another vision of perfection, lit candles marking your path.

You gushed in disbelief, your body finally dipping to the perfect temperature as you were surrounded with rose petals and bubbles. Almost as if he planned this. Like he knew what to do and how to exactly do it.

“How is it?” He asked, hospitality being of second nature. “Warm enough? Water deep enough?”

You gripped the edge of the tub to gaze back at him, bent down to meet your level with a soft, adoring smile as the water splashed against you soothed your aching body. “Who are you, Joshua Hong?”

He snickered, kissing the top of your head without answer. “I’m gonna let you be on your own for a moment, to really give your rest and after I clean up outside, maybe I’ll join you. Just…don’t go anywhere.”

You nodded, initiating a chaste kiss on his lips. “I won't.”

“Good girl.” His smile had never gotten so big, kissing you back with double the force before he got up to leave.

“Leave the door open,” you requested, “just in case you wanted…a nice image welcoming you back.”

“Alright,” he said, eyes lingering on your state before finally taking his leave.

Joshua had his fun in the sun, clinging to every second of this perfect night, but he needed to clean up one more thing before it could truly end perfectly. The kitchen, if you could see it, was clean and pristine as the rest of the house goddamn near was until you helped him wreck it, except one thing just of place.

He glanced at the hunting knife in the sink, carelessly rinsed after he didn’t think he had time to properly clean in your company. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, realizing how long the metal had soaked in the water. He reached into the cabinet for cleaning supplies, his mind racing.

Dousing a rag with isopropyl, he carefully wiped every surface, hoping no streaks were left on the metal, almost failing to notice the blood ironically staining the stainless steel of his sink, to which he scrubbed and scrubbed with conviction. He couldn’t help but be grateful for your lack of awareness, the thought of entering your kitchen not crossing your mind a moment this entire visit. It’s why he loved you. You didn’t ask unnecessary questions. You kept to yourself for the most part despite your rendevous. And you weren’t trouble. he couldn’t wait to return to you. His perfectly oblivious angel.

Meanwhile, you soaked in the water, smelling its essential oil and lathering up the bubbles on your body. In the corner of your eye, a door catches your attention, having not noticed it since entering the apartment. The only door with a keypadlock that seemed to require a code, protecting whatever’s inside or keeping whoever unwanted out. Your thoughts lingered for a moment, wondering what he wanted to keep hidden from plain sight. Hobbies? Priceless items? Murder weapons? Your mind spiraled through every possibility, leaving an itch you couldn’t quite reach to scratch.

But before another second passes, you’re reunited with the man who’s been consuming your thoughts, a smile of relief returning to your face.

“Hi, everything good down there?” You gazed back up at him.

“Yeah, sorry I took so long,” he sighed, the weight on his shoulders palpable until the tension eased away as he slid into the tub beside you.

You moved closer, collapsing into his chest and nuzzling against him, the warmth of his embrace far better than any hot bath. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

His hand gently stroked the back of your head, smoothing the damp tendrils on your shoulders as he glanced down at you, then at the mirror reflecting your intertwined bodies. The image before him was a vision of what the rest of his life would look like. As he correctly foretold. As he meticulously planned. Everything falling into place.

“Me too.”

Your eyes still flickered toward the door with the keypad, curiosity gnawing at you, but you pushed it aside. Whatever was hidden behind that door no longer mattered. Joshua was all that mattered now. You were irrevocably his, as he was irrevocably yours.

Whatever secrets he had, he could keep them.

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