#they work so hard and the show is beautiful

[malsmind]

"now you can feel me, even when i'm not there."

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: chris is going on tour agian, which means he can't fuck you. well, he's still gonna. just not entierly himself.

warnings: smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, use of sex toys, pet names (baby, angel, sweetheart)

english is not my first language!

chris going on tour again with his brothers was planned for a long time, but that didn't mean you'd miss him any less. no falling asleep together, no waking up together, no cuddling, and no sex.

chris already got you a huge plushie to make up for the cuddles that he won't be able to give you while he's out and about, making sure it smells like him before giving it to you the day he had to leave. but there's one more thing that unfortunately didn't make it in time.

because now, chris was on the road, on his way to texas for the first show. he told you to call him when the package he wouldn't shut up about arrived at your door step. he's been giggling about it the entire time before he left, refusing to tell you what it was. so when you came home from work later today and saw a pink giftbox placed on your doorstep, the first thing you did was call your boyfriend.

“did it arrive??”

you put your phone on speaker and sitting down on your bed, the box infront of you.

“hello to you too” you chuckled.

“hi, baby. did it arrive?”

“yes, chris.”

you could hear chris giggle on the other end, requesting to facetime you. you accepted, and you were immediately greeted with a huge smirk spread across chris's face. you couldn't help but laugh at how excited he seemed, like he was the one recieving a gift. you were excited too. chris wouldn't shut up about how he thought of 'the craziest gift ever' for you, something that'd help you get through the time apart from him.

“open it.” chris encouraged with a big grin, watching you as you analyzed the package, thinking about what it could be. you reached out to untie the little bow, putting it aside. when you went to lift the lid off of the box, you saw chris's grin widening, eyes glinting with mischief when the lid finally came off.

your lips parted, brows knitting together in slight confusion as you looked at the silicone item infront of you.

“a dildo?” you questioned, looking at him with a confused smile.

“not just any dildo.” chris said, watching you as you took the toy out of the box, examining it.

you thought hard about what you were holding in your hands. surely that's not the 'craziest gift ever' that he was on about, right? you noticed how this particular dildo looked a little different from the standard ones you could order somewhere.

and then you realized. the tip, that one vein, the length, everything.

“shut up, you did not!”

“oh, you know i did.”

you looked up at your phone with a smile, chris smirking at you trough the screen.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

you were wating for chris to call. tour didn't start until the next day, so chris was out with his brothers for dinner, meeting up a few friends. he kept texing you, making sure you'd wait for him to get back.

you sighed, putting your phone down and walking into the kitchen to get a drink. before you could open the fridge and grab one, you heard your phone ringing. you sprinted back to your room quickly, clicking accept on the call, laying down on your bed again.

“hey, beautiful. thought about you all night.”

“i miss you, chris. how was your night?”

“let's talk about that later, okay? how about we put your new gift to use..” chris suggested, his voice low and you could hear his blanket rustling.

“what about nick and matt...?”

“they're still out, baby. don't worry about it.”

you bit your lip, looking over at your nightstand where the toy was. still in the box. reminders of the day before chris left flooded your mind. moans filling the room, his dick buried deep inside of you.

“you okay baby?” chris's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. you grabbed the dildo, fingers tracing the cruve of the tip. it was crazy how accurate the toy was. every curve, every vein of chris's perfect cock, now molded into silicone for you to use whenever he was away. you put it down, turning your attention back to your phone.

“it’s… pretty fucking accurate, chris.”

he grinned, a flicker of heat coiling in his chest. “thought you’d like that. you using it yet?”

“not yet,” you admitted, and he could hear the smirk in your words. “waiting for you to tell me what to do with it.”

“fuck,” he muttered, his free hand already drifting down to adjust himself through his jeans. his dick twitched at the thought of you, legs spread, that toy in your hands. “alright, then. get comfortable, angel. take that shirt off—i know you’re wearing mine—and lie back on the bed.”

there was a soft thud, the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and he imagined the way your skin would look in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, all soft curves and shadows. “done,” you said, your voice a little breathier now. “what next?”

“grab it,” he instructed, his own breath hitching as he unzipped his jeans, freeing himself into the cool air of the bunk. his cock was already half-hard, thick and heavy in his palm. “run your fingers over it first. tell me how it feels.”

“it’s… cold,” you said, and he heard the faintest hitch in your tone as you touched it. “smooth, though. kinda weird how it’s so you. like, i can feel that little vein under the head, just like the real thing.”

“yeah?” he smirked, stroking himself slowly, his thumb brushing over that same vein on his own dick. “warm it up for me, then. put it in your mouth—get it nice and wet.”

a quiet whimper slipped through the phone, and he could picture it: your lips parting, sliding over the tip, your tongue tracing the shape of him. the sound of your soft, wet sucks came through the speaker, faint but enough to make his grip tighten, his hips shifting against the mattress. “shit, baby, you’re killing me,” he groaned. “how’s it taste?”

“like silicone,” you said with a small laugh, pulling back. “but i’m imagining it’s you. makes it better.”

“good girl,” he rasped, his voice dropping lower. “now slide it down—tease yourself with it. rub it on thet pretty pussy f'me.”

the line went quiet for a second, just the sound of your breathing, and then a shaky moan as you followed his command. “fuck, chris,” you whispered. “it’s… it’s right there. feels so good.”

“tell me,” he urged, his hand moving faster now, precum slicking his fingers. “what’s it like?”

“it’s wet,” you said, your words trembling. “i’m so fucking wet. god, i wish you were here.”

“me too, sweetheart,” he growled, his imagination running wild: your thighs parted, your pussy glistening, that toy—his dick—gliding through your folds. “push it in now. slow. let me hear you.”

your gasp was sharp, raw, and it hit him like a punch. he could hear the faint, slick sound of it sliding inside you, stretching you open, and your next words came out in a rush. “oh fuck—it’s big. filling me up so good, just like you do.”

“yeah?” his voice was strained, his balls tightening as he pictured it: your cunt gripping the dildo, your hips rocking against it. “fuck yourself for me. pretend it’s me fucking you—deep and hard.”

your moans grew louder, punctuated by the rhythmic creak of the bed, and he matched his strokes to the pace he knew you’d set, his cock throbbing in his fist. “chris—fuck, it’s so good,” you panted.

“attagirl,” he praised, his teeth gritted as heat surged through him. “keep going. fuck yourself with it—let me hear how wet you are.”

the sounds were obscene now. the wet squelch of your pussy, the slap of your hand guiding it in and out, your broken cries spilling through the phone. “fuck, yes.” you managed, voice hitching. “—fuck, chris, i’m gonna cum.”

“do it,” he snarled, his own release barreling closer. “cum all over my cock, baby—”

your scream was muffled, like you’d buried your face in the pillow, but it still sent him over the edge. his hips bucked, cum spilling hot and thick over his hand, splattering onto his stomach as he groaned your name. for a moment, there was just the sound of both of you panting, the aftershocks trembling through the line.

“shit,” he said finally, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he caught his breath. “you’re fucking incredible.”

you laughed, soft and sated. “i miss you so much, chris”

“i miss you too, angel.” he said, wiping his hand on a stray shirt. “think you can hold out with my little stand-in ‘til i'm back?”

“maybe,” you teased. “but i’m keeping this thing close. might need another round tomorrow.”

“just can't get enough of my dick, hm? now you can feel me, even when i’m not there.”

phone dividers by @kodaswrld

—

an: @sweetshuga gave me the idea for this LMAO. this is 4u isa i hope u like it :p

—

@emely9274 @impossiblecollectorcat @staargazr @sllutty-sturniolo @shadowthesim237 @sturns-mermaid @courta13 @grace-sturnz @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @ncm9696 @rcklessheavn @sophand4n4 @amyiasturnl @ivysturnss @loser41ifee @helpimateenagerinlove @joanakaulitz @colorthecosmos444 @tits4matt @pasteldreams @h3arts4nat

[chantaralindgren-pilotbutte-mom]

Chantara Lindgren: it was all official and it happened. I had left my marriage to kolby and I had was now living with my son Huxton. I was living with my 24 year old son in the 2.3 million dollar home he had built for us. My girlfriends that were close to me couldn’t believe that I actually did what I did. This was us Huxton and I. We had entered into a real romantic Mom and Son Incestual relationship and it was more than just me as a woman my was seeing, or a mature mother twice his age that he was dating. I was more than that to my son Huxton. I belonged to my son Huxton in a way that even my girlfriend Danielle couldn’t believe. I was my 24 year old son’s wife. When I left kolby I had also taken Dax with me. Huxton was there for everything he was there with me throughout my whole pregnancy with Dax. The last two years had been so intense. Danielle showed me in the secret romantic relationship that she had with her son Blake that it was very possible I could have the same thing with my son Huxton.

It happened and I’ve already written about how it started its pinned to my the top of my blog. It was only a few weeks after I found out I was pregnant with Dax that my son Huxton (who was 22 at the time) had our first romantic and physical encounter.

It was during that same weekend when my ex kolby was out of town working that Huxton and I first started to have sex. It was so incredibly beautiful and intense we were mom and son I was Chantara Lindgren a 40 year old mom at the time, I was only a few weeks pregnant with Dax and I let my son Huxton have sex with me in my bedroom on my bed. On the bed and in the bedroom that I slept with his father in. I remember telling Danielle for the first time she couldn’t believe it that I let my son Huxton have sex with me when I was only a few weeks pregnant. It didn’t stop between Huxton and I. It happened all though out the whole term of my pregnancy with Dax. My son Huxton had sex with me during the full nine months I was pregnant. Every night before I let my son Huxton have sex with me we made a commitment that he would claim Dax as his own baby. Huxton fulfilled that when he finished inside of me giving me his sperm every night. My baby bump wasn’t showing yet and as we had sex I would beg my son to put a baby inside of my womb. It was the most intense thing I’ve ever experienced in my life as his mom. We even simulated me taking a pregnancy test and then one night celebrating my eventual pregnancy.

I was his mom and slowly overtime my son and I continued to have sex every night and most mornings. My belly grew with a baby that was growing inside of me claimed by my son Huxton. It was something that my son and I both felt together. My pregnancy wasn’t because kolby pressed himself onto me one night when I was drunk and ended up pregnant. That wasn’t it at all. I was pregnant because my son Huxton and I were trying to have a baby and Huxton was putting everything he had into me to get me pregnant so we could have a baby together. Eventually we were successful in getting me pregnant. It was the beginning of some of the most wild sex I’ve ever had in my life. I never imagined being pregnant and having sex that was so intense with my own son. Imagine being a mom seven months pregnant with your own son‘s baby wearing a brown nighty for sex with him. Imagine your legs are spread open tightly wrapped around your own son as his long thick hard cock stretches you and fucks you hard as you can when you have a seven month baby bump. At eight months pregnant I got on top of my son naked, my pregnant belly fully bare and covered in baby oil. My breasts were big. My nipples were swollen and full of milk. I was about to have a baby with my son. I was so pregnant on top of my son Huxton riding him as if I was his pregnant girlfriend.

Time has passed and my blonde girlfriend Danielle who I was often jealous of can’t believe what I do with my son. She knew that I was ready to leave my marriage as soon as the house Huxton was building for us was complete. She knew that I was gonna ask for a separation and that I didn’t care what people thought or said about me moving in with my son Huxton and taking Dad with me so Huxton and I can raise him together as our own family. Danielle watched me do what I did. I’m now more than Huxton’s girlfriend I’m my son’s wife and mom. We’re trying again I’m going to have another baby with my son Huxton. I know it’s only a matter of time before I end up getting pregnant with my son Huxton‘s baby again. I’m ready to get pregnant again. Since I moved in with my 24 year old son Huxton I have been taking folic acid every day. I’m also taking clomiphene citrate that’s stimulating my ovulation. Omg this is happening I’m doing this to have a baby with my son 🤍

[harmoonix]

SALVATORE

Astrology Observations

Descendant (your 7th house has the same degrees as your ascendant/rising), at 4° 16° 28° degrees craves a more soft love type. They're definitely attracted to more tender people

Descendant at 6° 18° degrees craves a more rational love. They wanna keep it real, and without any illusions or fake people, they're attracted to authentic people

Descendant at 1° 13° 25° degrees craves the dominant lover type, someone who they can rely on or and to be there when they need it. They're attracted to people who show dominant energies

Descendant at 5° 17° 29° degrees craves a type of love without any obstacles, no one can interfere in their love, someone who can give them the moon and the stars

Venus in the 3rd decan (20° - 29° degrees) can definitely experience more relationships later in life, probably more in their adulthood than teenagehood

Venus aspecting the south node, especially if they are in the 7th house, gives me major vibes of a widow in a past life

Venus aspecting Saturn natives crave long and durable relationships rather than hooking up around and having one night stands

Mars aspecting Jupiter in good aspects natives are full of ambition and power to work/going through lots of harsh things

Mentally, Mars in the 3rd, 6th, and 11th houses are good. Here, Mars needs a lot of stimulation of the brain and more focus on the details

Jupiter in Libra natives can get lucky with a relationship and the people they surround themselves with. Their personality is likable

If you have soft moon signs like Pisces, Libra, Taurus, or Virgo, but your moon is aspecting Pluto, it will automatically make it more dark, so you may not relate with the 'soft moon observations'

Venus, in the 1st, 10th, and 12th hosue age so beautifully with the years, definitely going old and pretty too. Beautiful everywhere

Lana del rey's chart will always amaze me. She has Venus in Taurus in the 7th house, and that makes sense to so many of her songs. Bless her. Salvatore and doing time are some of my favorites from her

Jupiter in Aquarius natives can be very popular online/liked on social media. At the point of obsession sometimes/they can have a mass of ppl following them too

Pluto aspecting Moon is so dark on an emotional level, the native with these aspects can be even interested in death themes/afterlife/spiritual connection after death

Asteroid Aphrodite *1388* in harsh aspects to Venus (opposite, conjuction, square) tends to have a hard time learning how to love or how to receive it

Aphrodite 1388 in air signs can possess beautiful voices. You can often get compliments about having a nice voice

Aphrodite 1388 in good aspects to Moon (trine, conjuct, sextile) can be more in tune with their energy/emotional state. These natives can also have a huge feminine energy

Aphrodite 1388 in both harsh and good aspects to Pluto can indicate a powerful energy, striking beauty, more dominant than submissive and dark personality

Moon aspecting Mercury natives are very soft spoken. They usually have a pleasant voice/good at interacting with others. They know how to charm softly

Asteroid Circe (34) aspecting in Pluto can indicate psychic powers, seeing ghosts/entities/shadows, having a curiosity about death or about what happens after death

Circe aspecting Sun can have healing powers, not physically..but they can heal others with their words/energy, these natives can make others feel better quite easily

Jupiter aspecting Moon natives have (in harsh aspects) can have a hard time being optimistic, and the same can happen for those with Saturn - Moon aspects.

Ascendant aspecting Moon or Neptune natives have that kind of face you'll never be able to forget. It can be quite nostalgic/familar

Sun in the 3rd/9th house can get social with everyone in the room as long as they share the same vibe. They're pretty open to everything

Scorpio Risings can have so many intense people in their lives due to Pluto ruling their 1st house and Venus their 7th house with Taurus

Virgo Risings tend to have exes coming back in their lives due to Pisces energy in the 7th house, + if you have Mercury Retrogade in your chart as your 1st house ruler

Pisces Risings tend to meet hardworking partners due to their 7th house in Virgo. They might have good communication in their relationship.

Saturn or Capricorn in the 12th house of karma can sometimes indicate a hard life. It's not taken out of context, but it's very karmic

Uranus aspecting Venus (in harsh aspects) can be quite confusing. Especially on what they want/crave from their love life or partners, indecisive

Lilith aspecting Moon in harsh aspects rely very much on their emotional side. They can be at their lowest and still need some nurturing/care

Have a great weekend,everyone 🖤🖤

Harmoonix 🖤🖤🖤

[evnseokz]

꒰ ☆ mine to ruin ~ l.hs ꒱

pairing: heeseung x f.reader

contents: inexperienced reader, teacher heeseung, fingering, oral (f), dirty talk, praise kink, corruption kink, pet name baby, i think that’s all

w.c 1.5k

MINORS DNI

you had always been curious.

the thought of intimacy, of pleasure, of giving yourself to someone—it had lingered in the back of your mind for so long, but you had never acted on it. never let anyone touch you like that.

until heeseung.

he was different. confident, patient, and so incredibly alluring that you couldn’t ignore the pull you felt toward him. maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way his voice dropped when he spoke about things that made your skin flush.

or maybe it was the fact that he knew—he knew you were inexperienced, untouched, and he reveled in it.

“are you sure about this?” his voice was soft, but the dark glint in his eyes told a different story.

you nodded, swallowing hard. “i want you to teach me.”

a slow smirk curled his lips. “alright, baby. but once we start, i’m not stopping until i’ve had my fill of you.”

your breath hitched as he leaned in, his hands resting on your thighs. his fingers traced soft circles, barely touching, teasing, making you squirm before he even started.

“you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured, lips ghosting over your neck. “to be the first one to touch you. to show you everything.”

your thighs clenched together at his words, and he chuckled, feeling the subtle movement.

“you’re already reacting so much,” he mused, sliding a hand between your legs. “so sensitive.”

a soft gasp left your lips as his fingers trailed over your clothed core, applying the lightest pressure. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you whimper.

“tell me, baby,” heeseung whispered, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “have you ever touched yourself before?”

you hesitated, heat rushing to your face. “n-not really…”

he groaned. “fuck, you’re driving me crazy.”

with one swift motion, he pushed you back onto the bed, settling between your legs. his fingers worked at the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down along with your panties, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

your heart pounded in your chest as he took in the sight of you, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, running a hand up your thigh. “and you’re all mine to ruin.”

his fingers ghosted over your entrance, just barely dipping in before pulling away, making you whine.

“so eager,” he chuckled. “but i want to hear you say it. tell me what you want.”

you bit your lip, feeling a mix of embarrassment and need. “i… i want you to touch me.”

he smirked, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “good girl.”

without another word, he slid a finger inside you, slow and deliberate. your body tensed at the unfamiliar sensation, but the slight discomfort quickly faded into something new—something warm and overwhelming.

“relax, baby,” he soothed, moving his finger in and out, letting you adjust. “you feel so fucking tight.”

a whimper escaped your lips, and he added a second finger, stretching you open. his thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles that had you gasping.

“that’s it,” he cooed, watching as your body responded to him. “let yourself feel it.”

your hips began to move on their own, chasing the friction of his touch. heeseung groaned at the sight, his fingers curling just right, pressing against that sweet spot that made your back arch.

“fuck, heeseung—”

he smirked. “that’s it, baby. let me hear you.”

his fingers worked faster, his lips trailing down your stomach before he settled between your thighs. you barely had time to process before his tongue replaced his fingers, licking a slow, teasing stripe through your wetness.

a strangled moan left your lips, your hands flying to his hair, fingers twisting in the dark strands as he devoured you.

his tongue flicked over your clit, his fingers still working inside you, and the combination had your entire body trembling.

“you taste so fucking sweet,” he groaned against you, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine. “you were made for this, baby.”

you were already so close, the unfamiliar pressure building in your core. “heeseung—i think—”

“i know,” he murmured, sucking your clit into his mouth. “let go for me, baby. come for me.”

the moment the words left his mouth, you fell apart. your whole body tensed, pleasure washing over you in waves as you cried out his name.

heeseung didn’t stop, his tongue lapping up everything you gave him, prolonging your high until you were left panting, legs shaking.

heeseung pulled away slowly, his fingers leaving you empty, and you whimpered at the loss. he smirked, wiping his chin with the back of his hand as he looked down at you—completely wrecked, your legs still trembling, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“you did so well, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your thigh.

your half-lidded eyes met his, and you reached for him, still lost in the haze of pleasure. “heeseung… i want more.”

his smirk deepened, but he shook his head, running a soothing hand over your hip. “i know you’re eager, sweetheart. but this is enough for today’s lesson.”

you pouted, shifting beneath him, but he only chuckled, brushing his fingers over your swollen, overstimulated core just enough to make you jolt.

“see? you’re already so sensitive,” he teased. “i want to take my time with you. make sure you learn everything properly.”

your cheeks burned at his words, and he leaned in, kissing the corner of your lips. “next time, baby,” he whispered. “i’ll teach you even more.”

with that, he pulled you into his arms, letting you rest against his chest as his fingers traced lazy circles over your skin.

…

..

.

[rosiewitchescottage]

When portraying the character as a 'Strong Female Character' becomes more important than giving her character and personality, then yes. We're not going to connect with her.

The perfect example that I can think of is the contrast between animated Mulan and live action Mulan.

Animated Mulan achieves some amazing feats, she saves China, for goodness sake.

And yet, she doesn't lose her vulnerability, she has to work hard to get to where she needs to be.

And we love her, because she's real! Of course she doesn't get into the army and can do everything the same way as the men.

Clearly she's got some serious potential, waiting to be let out. But she hasn't got the same bodily strength and speed as her fellow soldiers.

She has to put in extra time and effort, which pays off in buckets.

There's something of Joan of Arc to be seen in Mulan. I remember watching a video about the French National Saint, and it was speculated that she probably didn't do much of the hand to hand fighting, but there's good reason to believe that she had very good leadership skills.

She lead her men in battle and they were inspired to follow her.

And we see that with Mulan, she's a soldier, not an officer, but once her comrades realise that the woman Mulan is still the same person as the man Ping, they listen to her, and realise that her ideas have the makings of success.

She doesn't lose any of this by having her love story with Shang. In fact they have a fascinating journey together, as Shang learns to love the woman that he grew to like and respect when she was pretending to be a man. He learns why she did it, and he respects that family loyalty. He realises that it's all the same person in the end.

And he's proud to be able to say that his wife saved China!

Contrast to live action Mulan. What can we say about her? She's got super powers so of course she can already whoop every ass in her way.

No coconut for guessing which is the more satisfying character to watch. 🙄

With animated Snow White we get the strength of her pure heart. All she wishes for is to be loved and spoken to kindly.

The animals aren't afraid of her, because they know there's no cruelty in her.

The dwarves are happy to give her a home because she's willing to give back to them by keeping house.

My theory about The Prince is that there had to be something extra special about this girl for him to keep looking for her.

In his world beautiful girls who can sing will be plentiful.

If Snow White was just a pretty servant that he wanted to have fun with, why go all out to find her again?

Cinderella (both animated and live action) shows the power of never giving into bitterness. She keeps believing in the power of dreams and she loves, despite the only kindness that she gets is from her animal friends.

Animated Belle loves her father and when the condition of her father's freedom is for her to remain with The Beast, she does it, even though it breaks her heart. Loyalty and Honour.

And she's determined to make the best of the situation. She gets to know the castle. She takes the time to get to know The Beast, and as she's showing interest in him, it makes him want to know and care about her.

The more "empowered" Disney tries to write their heroines as, the less interesting and charismatic they become, ironically.

[tiny-pretty-sana]

gf mina | headcanons

warning: nsfw content (+18), men and minors dni

sfw

mina is synonym of elegance, serenity and beauty. being by her side feels like watching the waves crashing on the shore when the sea is calm during a sunset. 

she is shy with a serious appearance and elegant, controlled mannerisms, all of which together can give an impression of her that is far from reality.

she is a quiet person, she demonstrates more through her actions than with her words. but if it’s something she’s passionate about you can hear her talk for long.

when she is ready and voices what she thinks or how she feels, she does it just as she is, calmly and elegantly. even when she demands something it doesn’t sound like it and you just feel the need to listen to her.

she's not oblivious to the effect she has on people and especially on you, she will demand your attention in subtle but effective ways. she knows what makes you weak.

your first impression of her is that she was sexy but cold and mysterious, it turns out she is the definition of “loser trapped in a hot girl's body”.

she's a nerd. she loves video games, knows the names of too many pokémon, watches superhero movies, recreates poses of anime characters and builds legos that she then puts in display cases. 

when you started going on dates you noticed she seemed too focused on something and you felt something was off. turns out she was a bit self conscious of her walking. 

time passed and soon enough she stopped hiding her penguin like walking around you.

her love language is gift giving, but also acts of service.

you do whatever she asks (or commands), but she is always there for whatever you need. whether it's to help you, to be by your side or to do it for you.

she isn’t a romantic person, although she does romantic things. expect to receive bouquets of your favorite flowers, stuffed animals, the snacks you like the most, something she has crocheted or made.

for your birthdays, anniversaries or valentine's day she won't post anything on social media or do anything that other people can see. you like to celebrate things privately.

mina's favorite dates are the ones that include going to a nice restaurant, a bakery shop, eating ice cream or trying new food. no matter what you do, food is a must. 

when you don't stay home with a nice wine, home-cooked meal or take out to watch a movie or play video games you enjoy quiet dates. 

you go to the movies, go to a museum, the aquarium, botanical garden or shopping so she can indulge in her hobbies.

when you go shopping together she stuns you when she tries on clothes and the next minute she's dragging you through the whole store to show you a minecraft tshirt. 

the gifts mina gives you are things you like and will use. if she gives you jewelry it's nice, but also something you can wear in your everyday activities. and another day she might give you an overpriced toaster in your favorite color. 

mina is the kind of person you have to take care of and make sure she eats on time and drinks water. if she has a new game or building a big lego set, you have to remind her to take breaks and go to bed. 

she is a homebody and sometimes you have to drag her out of her home but a promise to grab some food and a few kisses will do the trick.

when situations in her life, work or your relationship overwhelm her, her way of dealing with it is to walk away. 

she is learning to count on you and understand that she is not a bother, but it can be hard to break out of old habits.

mina is a private person. she won't say she loves you out loud or kiss you in public. instead she gives you affection in subtle ways to let you know she is there for you. 

she follows you with her eyes, feeds you, slides her hands between yours, places her hand on your thigh, or keeps her hand on your lower back while you talk. 

she sometimes gets overwhelmed in big crowds or when meeting new people, when this happens she clings onto you.

she is not jealous at all, she is very confident in herself and also in you. she knows she has you hooked.

in private she's all over you. she’s really affectionate and touchy once she lets herself go, sometimes she sits on your lap while she plays or will ask you to straddle her while she’s gaming on the computer.

nsfw

once again her calmness and quietness may give you the wrong impression of her. mina is not innocent at all, it didn't take you long to realize it.

sex with her is passionate, intimate and fun, but also dirty and rough. behind closed doors you get to see the less elegant, soft and collected version of mina. 

mina gives herself to you whether she is in control or not. and you have no choice but to give her everything she needs, no matter if she begs for it or demands it.

to put it in another way, mina bottoms most of the time.

she knows how hot she is and she knows she has you wrapped around her finger. she knows exactly what words to use and how to touch you to get exactly what she wants from you.

she's a tease. it doesn't matter if you're in public or private because she'll find the way.

her gestures, her touches or the way she looks at you may go unnoticed by others, but you know perfectly well the intentions behind them, however subtle they may be. 

when you’re at home she wears obscenely short clothes, she purposely raises her arms until her t-shirt slides up showing her abs or bends over to give you a perfect view of her ass. 

she enjoys teasing you but it’s even easier to tease her since she’s horny most of the time. a look, a few words and a suggestive gesture would have her blushing, looking avoiding your eyes and squeezing her thighs together.

you let her misbehave all she wants because it's not like you can punish her. she loves to be spanked, being edged or whatever you come up with.

she will use pet names rather than titles with you (unless you tell her). however, if you use them with her, especially the ones she has taught you in japanese, she becomes putty in your hands

mina is kinky, a freak, a pervert… you name it. she has so many kinks that you’re still finding out and she’s willing to try so many things. that includes bdsm dynamics

once you called her a pervert to tease her but it just turned her on. 

she’s both into praising and degradation, she can’t help it when she just loves getting any type of attention from you. 

she enjoys degradation, humiliation and sadism. for these she enjoys being the receiving end more but when she's in a certain mood she doesn't hesitate to inflict it. 

she also enjoys bondage, impact play, temperature/sensation play and wax play among others.

she likes to try new positions and take advantage of her flexibility but nothing compares to having you eating her out while she plays. 

she has a staring problem, she can't take her eyes off you, your chest or any exposed skin. you don't miss the opportunity to remind her “my eyes are higher up” just to see her reaction.

this does not only happen with you, but also with other people. that's why she doesn’t get jealous even though she's possessive. truly she also gets turned on by the idea of you catching her.

to be fair, years of doing ballet makes you notice other women too much and it's not even a sexual thing, unlike her oral fixation. 

you have no complaints when she puts her oral fixation to good use whether it's with your breasts, putting her between your legs or making her suck the strap.

you can expect anything from her. one day she's wearing a beautiful lingerie set to surprise you and the next day you pull her pants down and find some minecraft boxers

mina has a collection of sex toys that she loves you to use on her, most of them she also uses by herself. dildos, vibrators, whips, paddles, handcuffs, plugs, ropes...this does not only happen with you, but also with other people.

she orders them online but she made an exception of going to a specialized store to get you a leather collar with your name engraved in a silver tag.

mina is always quiet, so during sex it's not much different as long as she's in a more submissive and needy headspace. she'll let out the most adorable breathy moans and whimpers. but if she’s being dominant... she will talk you through it, guide you and bossing you around

it can get rough when she asks for it. in these cases she is the one who needs the most aftercare, but even then she asks you if you are ok and makes you know that she enjoyed it. during the whole aftercare process, she gets shy and hides in the crook of your neck.

[lucehe]

Magikey Event by @quartztwst !!!

Thank you for this beautiful idea I love this au a lot maybe we should make some Yuu company and overthrow Crowley's agency together 🫵

"The Shooting Star" --- Yuki Rei

Don't worry, no matter who you are, where you are, and what happened, Yuki will try her best to help you!

(Detailed infos below!)

Yuno's part

Settings:

The lovely little girl who got chosen to become the magical girl by Crowley. Of course she doesn't understand much about her new ability and power, she is only 5. But don't worry, Mr. Spider is willing to help her!

Mr. Spider teached her how to use that giant syringe, its a little scary at first, Yuki hates being poked by their sharp needles! But seeing her patients feel better after then, she felt happier and braver!

Mr. Spider also taught her, she just have to do her best to help people who is in pain. If anything happened, he will give her supports. She can rest and take a break if she wants to, Mr. Spider will give her some candies and cuddles.

Ability

1 - Let me help you!

Yuki always had the urge to help people, even when she was stressed.

Its a habit she get after her father turned into a monster.

She would used her giant syringe and heal her patients. No worries to the liquid inside, its all her pure love and care.

"Its just a little mini miny pain on your butt, sir. 3, 2, 1!"

2 - Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

After gaining the magikey, Yuki starting to see the little stars everywhere!

It can be on the street, in the air, around the flowers, everywhere thats beautiful.

Its hard to understand, but Yuki likes to collect them up, and put them carefully into her little bag.

When enemies were trying to attack people, she will throw these little stars to the enemies and hit them hard!

The stars would help her, making shiny lights and blind the enemies!

"Hehe, I did it again, thank you, little stars."

3 - Take a break, Yuki

It only happened in specific scenarios. Yuki always fought with the other heros since she is a supporter and healer.

However, when it comes with Yuki being separated from the group and unable protect herself, Mr. Spider will showed up and guard Yuki.

Not many people have seen Mr. Spider's human form yet, and everytime he and Mr. Crowley met, Mr. Spider will try to eat him (actually just to scare him and threaten this fuking crow)

"Don't worry Yuki, do you see the people over there? I'll come to find you ten minutes later, you can help them a little and eat some biscuits. Its blueberry flavour."

Bonus

Yuki's mother was horrified when she knew her daughter gained the magic key, as a single mother who raised her daughter alone, she can't do anything but watching Yuki doing her "responsibility".

The villains were acting more frequently recently, and the government will make these who have the ability to work, to fight for the weaks.

She is only 5, she will got hurt, she is just a innocent, naive little child

Yuki doesn't know her mother's fear, she is happy that she gain new powers that can save people.

Its her dream to be someone like a superhero, to be a cool doctor!

Maybe she can make new friends, maybe people will like her again, instead of thinking her as a criminal's daughter.

Her father used to be a cursed magikey user, yet he got corrupted and hurt so many people.

So she will fix all of these, she will change how people feel about her family, she will protect her mommy!

Yes, I will create one more post for Yuno.

I mean I love to see magical creatures protecting the magical girl or something

Its a lovely dynamic, and Im going to make that man unhinged

[orikixx]

cw: 2.2k words, fem!reader, eventual smut, not proofread

bodyguard!Toji who's a cold, dangerous, untouchable man. his whole entire life he's only seen bullcrap, and he's so done dealing with it. he decided to take matters into his own hands, making himself feel better about his shitty life by protecting others' lives.

bodyguard!Toji is used to working with every type of people. spoiled nepo baby who clearly has a crush on him? check, and you can be sure he'd flirt back. some clueless airheads almost getting themselves killed, obviously. stubborn ceos' kids, even government assets.

bodyguard!Toji who's taken aback when his handler, shiu, shows him a picture of you. for the first time in his entire life, he considers turning down a job offer. he's seen plenty of women, sure, but he's never seen someone as captivating, genuinely stunning as you. his reaction earns him a snicker from shiu, as the man sighs. toji knows he needs the money. never choosing the right boat to bet on, he could definitely use it.

bodyguard!Toji reluctantly accepts the offer, yet he's in his own head as shiu gives him the details. he knows he shouldn't have accepted it. why would he knowingly risk your life like that, when he's aware he won't be able to resist you? hell, he can't even focus on shiu's explanation, your stunning face lingring in his mind, suffocating every other thought. sure, he's been with plenty of women before, and heaven knows that if he wants to, he can have multiple ladies a night. he still does sometimes, but its never anyone he’s attached to. he makes sure they have fun too, ever the gentleman, but thats it for him, pretty much a pump and dump.

bodyguard!Toji who sees you the next day, and thinks he might have to quit. maybe he hasn't truly worked with all kinds of people. the man stands still as you open the door to your house, inviting him in. no client has ever extanded him the opportunity to enter their home, the one safe space a bodyguard usually won't be in. he walks in, keeping his cool as he eyes you up and down. your figure shows behind your flimsy pjs, and he's eating it up as you try introducing yourself to him.

"um, is everything okay mr fushiguro? you look distracted.."

"all good doll. what were ya saying?"

bodyguard!Toji continues ogling you as you keep on rambling, your voice eventually dying when you notice where he holds his gaze.

"oh gosh, I'm so sorry! let me go change, I'll be back in a second!"

he hears the panic in your voice and smirks, watching you run off to your room. he uses the free time to wander around your apartment, his gaze skimming over every little detail he can take in. fuck, as if your cute pjs weren't enough, your place is filled with scented candles, decorated polaroids and an insane amount of pastel colored throw pillows.

bodyguard!Toji mentally curses himself when you return in an oversized hoodie and jeans, reminding himself he's got a job to do, one that he's paid very well for. he manages to somewhat focus this time, listening as you tell him about how your dad thought you needed a bodyguard since his own dangerous job, so here you guys are.

bodyguard!Toji manages to pass the first few week just fine. he usually guards you from mornings to late afternoons, so he spends the majority of his days with you. not that he minds having a beautiful woman to stare at, but there's something else he finds interesting about you. despite your dad's buisness, you seem far too delicate and somewhat unserious. he's not calling you dumb, you certeinly are a clever woman, it simply took him by surprise. toji's eventually grown accostumed to you, and dare he say, even started enjoying your company.

bodyguard!Toji can't wait for the day to end already. you didn't give him too hard of a challange, you guys merely wandered throughout the mall for some hours, yet he can barely hold himself back when you enter a lingerie shop, pleading him to stay outside. toji almost flushes, before shaking his head.

"ya know I can't do that, promise I won't peep."

you sigh and dramatically stop inside, the tall man walking with some distance, as sadly he's got enough self control to try respecting your privacy. he's standing there, feeling like some kind of pervert. honestly, he might be one, since he's currently using all his willpower to not follow you towards the fitting rooms.

bodyguard!Toji is a simple man, so when you leave the shopping bag outside of the fitting rooms, he can't help himself but peep into it, making a mental note of the cute bras you took, of course all of them had bows and gems, and a crotchless thong you tried burying under the pile. toji can feel himself going mad at the thought of you wearing them, his pants already growing tighter. who are you even buying them for? you never mentioned anything about a boyfriend, and that made him happy among the weird feelings it brought up.

bodyguard!Toji who acts all nonchallant when you come out of the fitting room, hastily shoving a few more items into your bag before running off to pay. he hopes he managed to play it off well enough that you won't notice the tent in his pants, as he tries thinking of anything else to calm himself down.

bodyguard!Toji who's rushing to your place one night, as your dad alerted him of a potential threat to you, following some unsuccessful buisness meeting. he knows he should be somewhat nervous, you're his client, after all, but sweat lingers at his brow, he feels his guts knotting with fear, and its all too much. he knocks on your door once, twice, louder when you won't answer. his emotions quickly get the best of him and he forces his way into your apartment, immediately assuming the worst has happened.

bodyguard!Toji doesn't spot you anywhere as he quickly scans the kitchen and living room, getting more and more nervous by the second. what if he's lost a client? the dreaded occasion has only occured once, with no intention of repeat, especially if it was you who he was losing. toji hears the faintest noise, so he proceeds deeper into your small apartment, the noise only getting stronger.

bodyguard!Toji eventually spots the source- your bedroom. he sighs with relief, before realizing he's hearing groans and whimpers. what if someone's in there with you? what if they caught you in the bedroom, and are torturing you for information? toji bursts inside without a second thought, knocking the door wide open with his strong shoulder.

"f-fuck, so close, toji please!"

and toji knows he's screwed.

bodyguard!Toji simply stands there, dumbfounded for a short moment as he watches you scramble up the bed, covering yourself with the fluffy blanket. you're breathing heavily, cheeks flushed, and, well... fingers sticky.

"fuck doll, didn't know you had it in ya."

"get out toji! what the hell are you doing here?"

"there was a threat alert from your father, but now I see we have crucial business to attand to."

bodyguard!Toji smirks as he watches your expression go blank, all thoughts disappearing from your mind.

"do you... what?"

it's barely a whisper, and he can see a glimer of hope in your eyes, making him falter. he slowly inches closer, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

"I'm serious ma, with the way you were moaning my name I bet you wouldn't mind some help."

you bury your face in your hands, groaning loudly, yet nodding.

"gonna need you to say it, ma."

and with a sigh, you do.

"could you... help me, toji? please?"

bodyguard!Toji pounces on you as if he's never touched a woman before, pulling your hands off your face before finally kissing you. it's hungry and needy, something you wouldn't have expected from toji, your own guard. he greedily bites on your lower lip, forcing your mouth open as he hovers on top of you. you're moaning into the kiss, feeling his hands travel down to your bare legs, skilled fingers getting closer and closer to your core.

bodyguard!Toji who gently forces your thighs open, rough fingers almost tickling your soft skin. he breaks off the kiss, panting, before crawling down the bed, now eye to eye with your gooey cunt.

"don't just stare, it's emba-"

"keep it down doll, wanna appreciate her."

you flush, too weirded out by the situation that you fantasized about countless times to even look toji in the eye as his mouth latches onto your clit. toji takes the neglected bud into his mouth, sucking harshly as your thighs squeeze his head. he groans, relishing in your taste as he feels himself getting harder by the second. he continues sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking it with his hot tongue as your fingerss grab his fine, black strands. your moans fill the small room, only fueling toji on.

bodyguard!Toji quickly slips a finger inside of you, groaning at the feeling of your velvety, slick walls around him. you're so tight, and he's only one finger in, fuck how small are your fingers? will you even be able to handle his dick? toji pushes these thoughts aside, focusing on the way you squirm, eyes squeezed shut as his finger pumps faster inside of you. the man almost chuckles, pushing a second thick, experienced finger inside you, scissoring them both and thrusting into your g spot.

You almost scream his name, thighs quivering, and he’s abusing your spot until you're gushing all over him, creamy liquid clinging onto his fingers as he pulls them out of your already sore cunt.

bodyguard!Toji experately licks his fingers clean, closing his eyes and savoring the taste of your sweet nectar, letting you catch your breath for a second. once he's had enough, he looks back at your fucked up face.

"youv'e had enough, doll?"

your stare trails down to his erection, the sheer size of the tent in his pants frightening you. you shake your head, and toji follows your gaze, chuckling to himself.

"you know you gotta say it for me, ma."

"can you just fuck me toji? for the love of god I might die if you don't.."

you almost mumble that, but it's more than enough for the embarrassingly desperate man.

bodyguard!Toji quickly gets rid of his jeans and boxers, which are already decorated with a small spot of precum. he spits once onto his hard shaft, strechy globes landing on his bright pink tip. he strokes up and down, shivering as he looks at you. you're all spread out on the bed, cum still leaking out of your cunt, yet you look up at him with so much adoration. he leans in, landing a soft kiss onto your forehead, surprising you. you smile, only momentarily, because the moment he pushes his fat tip into your tight cunt you feel the worst stretch of your life.

"go slower, fuck it hurts so bad already!"

toji hums, thumb coming up to circle your clit in an attempt to calm you down.

"it's gonna be okay ma, just relax and let me do all the work."

bodyguard!Toji eventually manages to push his entire length into you, mushroom tip bullying your cervix as he pumps in and out, hips snapping onto yours in god-like speed. your nails rake down his back, pushing him closer, deeper into you, and he moans at the feeling. one of his hands comes down to trace your cheek, and he studies your face, mouth wide open, drooling, and eyes squeezed shut with pleasure. "such a good girl for me, can feel you clenching baby." toji decides to be a good man for once, bringing his hand back to your clit, rubbing tight circles onto it. you clench so hard around him, and toji thinks he wont be able to pull out with the grip you've got him in.

"inside.. p-please? ah!"

yeah, he's so fucking screwed.

bodyguard!Toji cums so hard, the hardest he ever has, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. feeling his sticky load filling you up even more is enough to tip you off the edge once again, slick walls clenching around his dick. you breath heavily, wrapping your arms around toji's neck as he almost collapses on top of you.

"that was... that was insane, toji."

"yeah? you liked it ma?"

toji knows it was a pointless question, you nod as he scans the mess you two have left all over your soft sheets. he gently pulls out, almost smirking when you whine at the loss of his warmth. he helps you clean up, gently trailing his hands all over your soft body. you simply lay there, too exahusted to move as your own bodyguard cleans you off. you look up, your mind wondering with a small pout.

bodyguard!Toji notices, of course, he's learnt to notice everything about you since you've met.

"everything okay, doll?"

"tomorrow, will we just be.. in business settings again?"

toji hears the undertone of hurt in your voice, already expecting the worst outcome.

"well.. it's gonna be complicated, but if you're willing to try anything more, count me the fuck in. especially with this tight pu-"

"toji!"

bodyguard!Toji is helping you get in bed, tucking the blanket for you.

"I'll see you tomorrow, y/n."

"cya tomorrow, mr fushiguro!"

you're definitely the weirdest client he's ever had, but he loves it.

a/n: OH MY GOSH😭 ugh ik this is super rushed but I wanted to use my day off to at least try writing something, so here it is lol. Hope it’s not too bad and you guys like it💕

[fangel]

OH MY GOSHHH ♡-໒₍: o̴̶̷᷄ ̫ o̴̶̷᷅ก̀₎১՞ i can’t believe i was able to give you some inspiration that’s so crazy to me and im soooo happy you were able to overcome the fear of writing unholy nasty content because ya know what, hell yeah !! embrace the weird freak nasty pervert sht. i love you ㅠㅠ thank god you took this fic out of the drafts !!! my rambles i made while reading are below.. ♡

first part in and i was already HOOKED. i’m (very obviously) a sucker for religious fics so of course i was foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog when i saw this notif. but it’s the way you write their devotion so beautifully detailed that i was like ‘oh yeah, im in for a ride.’

AND mc so quick to be like …maybe thinking of sin isn’t so bad just from seeing jake WHILE PRAYING IN CHURCH FOR HIMMM 😭😭 #real adore her already

something about jake is so perfect for religious au’s and idk how to describe it but YOU get it. i know you do.. i love u for that hehe

I LIVE AND LOVE for mc trying to find understanding of her feelings :( poor baby trying to navigate human emotions while being swallowed by quilt. the other girls talking about jake with “a quiet admiration, soft and innocent” — meanwhile mc’s is as you described “heavier” SET HER FREE !!!!! — “why did yours feel like something that sat in your chest, something that pressed against your ribs with every prayer, something that burned.”

⤷ YOURE COOKING, and it’s still only the beginning askdlakzpa

(insert every quote of dialogue from the scene where the nun lectures purity, masturbation, and sexual nature because every single line was hard as fuck oh my god) ((..kiss me pls i beg of you i love your brain…))

the apple…. the snake…… the garden of eden reference….. the first sin…. !!!! I WILL SUCCUMB EVERY TIME !!!!

who tf got my girl karina expelled 😒 a girl can’t have hobbies and be hot ? she can’t get some ?? fuck it i would’ve joined them

“eve took the apple. she chose knowledge, chose to know desire, hunger, craving. and for that she was cast out. but maybe that was never a punishment. maybe it was freedom.” SPEAK YOUR (THE) TRUTH KARINA 🔥🔥🔥 okay but seriously love this sequence of mc finding someone who indulges on what she wants to, and being told that it’s not something to regret. mc needed that — so much of religious lessons / morals (my brain isn’t working to find the right words) are based on fear !!! rights and wrongs, the consequences of going against god’s word or values, etc. putting fear into people to live a certain way. i love how you touched on that

her touching herself THERE, IN THE PLACE OF WORSHIP… ?! okay me too #twin #realfreaksonly

THE FUCKING TENSION BETWEEN MC AND JAKE DURING THE CONFESSION SCENE WHATTHEHELLL AHHHHHHHHHHHH i would’ve bent over that pew so fast 😭

the scene of jake begging mc to show him how she touched herself….. and then she just gets down to it and whips his dick out anzjakzak “i’m going to pray for forgiveness” LMAO I LOVE U LIL PERV CHURCH GIRL - the entire thing was so hot.. i am the real pervert 😞

once they started they didn’t stop LMFAO already diving into talking about kinks too !!! this is what i’m here for !!!!! i just know his nose would drive me insane too.. mc is just getting more and more real

why do i feel guilt ?!? “because we’ve been taught to fear Him more than we’ve been taught to trust His love.” OHMYGUCKING GOD JUST SHOOT ME — continues to spew more beautiful dialogue (ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू) while just lovin and touchin on each other oh wow where is my completely devote partner to worship and love me regardless of what anything else says

THEY ARE IN LOVVVEREEE 🤍🤍🤍🤍 all is right in the world

okay but honestly, this was such an amazing read (and my first jake fic i’ve read, so this is extra special to me hehe) the way you captured the characters emotions was so well done. i love all the religious references as a former catholic girl myself so of course i ate this up. all the analogies and metaphors were so perfect. you also write dialogue really well. there were so many more quotes i could’ve included because so much of it stood out to me ㅠㅠ truly phenomenal !! your characters felt real and it was so easy to connect with them too. from the imagery and details to the overall themes of guilt and shame are just so good, so yummy. really enjoyed jake’s pov too omg ily so bad also the smut was hot asf !!! TRUST, i will be reading more of your works bc that freaky nasty poly jayke fic has been calling my name for weeks now

i haven’t read a fic in over a month maybe longer but this tag really brought me right out of my reading slump. i will tackle your other works tomorrow ♥️ thank you so much for writing this, you’re so talented and amazing and beautiful and lovely i adore you

the fall of a man — sjy

SYNOPSIS: You were taught that virtue was a woman’s greatest strength, that temptation was a test of will, that desire was the serpent’s whisper leading you astray. But when temptation comes in the form of Sim Jaeyun—holy, untouchable, the very image of devotion—your faith begins to waver.

content tags: slow burn, plot with little bit of porn, mutual pining, both of them are religious and virgins, set in catholic university that is lead by nuns, they don't have sex ed!! adam and eve references, religious guilt, reader crushing and thirsting over jake in religious way that's been written for almost 5k words, some of the scenes are heavily inspired by 'guilty as sin' by ts.

warning: heavy sacrilegious content, karina kind of represent the serpent in reader's pov, blasphemy, explicit content (smut): reader masturbate in the chapel, virgins trying to fuck, virginity loss (obv), blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex (condom don't exist), jake call out god's name a lot of times. wc: 16.7k

note: my darling, @fangel really inspired me and make me overcome my fear in writing the most unholiest thing in the world, i'm inlove with you, bae and you really changed my world with your fics <3 i wrote this fic for armin arlert way back 2023 but never had the guts to publish it, but hey u give me a reason to continue this fic. and to my readers out there, i hope you enjoy reading this fic, i love writing jake's pov here :)

Ever since you were a child, you followed everything your parents told you. Raised in a devoutly religious household, your days revolved around faith—joining church activities, attending every Sunday mass without fail, even flying to Puerto Rico with your family to take part in Misa de Aguinaldo.

Religion wasn't just a part of your life; it was your life.

You loved God. You loved listening to preachers, absorbing their words like scripture carved into your soul. You loved spreading the message of Jesus Christ, the warmth of faith filling you every time you shared His name.

You prayed constantly—palms pressed together, head bowed, whispering words of gratitude for every blessing, of repentance for every misstep. You prayed for strength, for purity, for the will to resist temptation.

And yet—temptation had a name.

And his name is Sim Jaeyun.

You remember the first time you saw him walking through the gates of the Catholic university you both attended.

Jake Sim was the very embodiment of devotion, of unwavering faith. He carried himself with an air of holiness, always with a rosary wrapped around his fingers or a Bible tucked beneath his arm. He spoke with conviction, every word laced with the kind of certainty only true believers possessed. And yet, to you, he was something else entirely.

The way he moved, the way his voice echoed through the chapel—it was hypnotic. Your prayers would falter on your tongue whenever he stood at the altar, leading hymns with a voice so steady, so sure.

You had watched him, your eyes tracing the curve of his lips as he spoke, the way his lashes fluttered when he blinked. You had memorized the way candlelight danced across his skin, the way the veins in his hands shifted when he clasped them in prayer.

The boy who knelt before the cross with his eyes closed in deep, persistent faithfulness.

The boy who touched the rosary beads with such reverence, his fingers gliding over each one as if they held the weight of his salvation.

But all you could think about was how those same fingers would feel tracing the lines of your body, how they would press into your skin—not in prayer, but in something far more sinful.

How his lips would taste if they weren't murmuring scripture, if instead, they whispered your name in the dark.

How his faith would crumble if he ever looked at you the way you wanted him to.

And as you sat in the pews, hands clasped, head bowed, you prayed—not for strength, not for purity, but for him.

You shouldn't think about him that way. You shouldn't let your mind wander, not here, not in the house of God.

You knew the weight of sin, the warnings etched into you since childhood. Your family had made it clear—masturbation, desire, sex before marriage—each was a path to damnation. To act on them was to betray God.

Do not lay a hand on any boy. Do not think of flesh, of pleasure, of sin. Do not touch your body with thoughts of another.

But if you had never touched him, never let your hands stray to your own skin —if all you had were thoughts, then how could you already feel guilty as sin?

The golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the stained-glass windows of the university chapel, casting soft hues of red, blue, and gold onto the polished wooden pews. The air was still, filled only with the faint scent of old parchment and melting candle wax.

You sat near the front, fingers absentmindedly tracing the spine of your prayer book. The chapel was mostly empty, save for a few students lingering in quiet reflection. And him.

Sim Jaeyun stood near the altar, carefully arranging hymnals. Even in the simplicity of his tasks, there was a quiet devotion to him—an unshaken faith that made it impossible to look away.

You tried to focus on the words of the scripture open in front of you, but your thoughts were restless. It wasn't the first time you had stayed after midday prayers, and it wasn't the first time you had found yourself stealing glances at him.

A quiet sound of footsteps against the marble floor.

"You're here again."

You glanced up to find Jake standing at the edge. You nodded, offering a small smile. "I like the chapel in the afternoon. It's peaceful."

Jake hummed in agreement, sliding into the pew beside you, though he kept a respectful distance. "It's my favorite time, too," he admitted, clasping his hands together. "When the day is slowing down, but the world isn't quite asleep yet."

You studied him for a moment, watching as the sunlight touched his face, illuminating the softness in his features. "What do you pray for?" you asked.

Jake exhaled, his gaze fixed ahead. "For strength," he said. "To always follow the right path."

You nodded slowly, looking down at your hands.

"And you?" he asked.

You hesitated. You knew what you should say. Strength. Wisdom. Purity.

But instead, you murmured, "For understanding."

Jake turned to you, brow slightly furrowed. "Understanding?"

You swallowed. "There are... thoughts I don't always understand." You hesitated, fingers tightening around the pages of your prayer book. "And I ask for guidance. To know what is right."

For a moment, Jake was silent, then he offered a small, knowing smile. "God sees our hearts even when we struggle to see them ourselves." His voice was gentle and reassuring. "Sometimes, we don't need to have all the answers. We just need to trust Him to show us the way."

His words should have comforted you. But as you looked at him—at the boy who made your heart race in ways you couldn't explain—you weren't sure if the path you longed for was the one God had intended for you.

Sim Jaeyun barely even knew you. The two of you only shared a religion class, occasionally finding yourselves in the same prayer group. Your interactions were brief—just passing glances, a quiet exchange of smiles. Sometimes, after kneeling in prayer, he would hand you a sandwich and a bottle of water and you always accepted with a small nod of thanks, though the warmth in your chest lingered long after.

During every community outreach, you would catch glimpses of him—kneeling to pet stray dogs and cats, laughter spilling from his lips as children clung to his arms, their tiny hands gripping at his sleeves. He spoke to the elderly with a patience and gentleness that felt almost sacred, offering up his seat without hesitation, carrying their bags.

He was the kind of person people gravitated toward, the kind of person who made faith feel tangible—something living and breathing, rather than just words in a book.

You wondered if someone like him, someone pure as gold, ever sinned.

Sim Jaeyun was a name whispered often in the girls' residence hall. Every night, as curfew neared, you would hear them murmuring from their bunks.

"He'd make such a good husband." "Imagine him as a father—he'd be perfect." "Any girl would be lucky to have him."

A quiet admiration, soft and innocent. So why was yours so much heavier? So much more?

Why did yours feel like something that sat in your chest, something that pressed against your ribs with every prayer, something that burned?

"Your body is sacred."

The nun's voice rang through the classroom. She moved slowly between the rows of desks, the wooden stick in her hand tapping lightly against her palm with every step.

It was an all-girls class since she was teaching anatomy. But this wasn't just about the body. It was about purity.

She stopped near the front of the room, turning to face the class. Her gaze swept over each of you, as if she could see straight into your thoughts. "God has given you this body," she continued. "A temple. A gift. A vessel meant for holiness, not for sin."

You swallowed, shifting slightly in your seat.

"Temptation is everywhere," she said. "It creeps into your thoughts, into your hands, into the desires you do not speak of. But hear me, girls—"God is watching.""

The stick tapped against her palm again.

"Masturbation," she said, the word itself feeling heavy as it filled the silence, "is a sin against your own flesh. To lay a hand upon yourself in lust is to defile what was meant to be pure."

A hush settled over the room. Some girls looked down at their desks, others sat rigid, eyes wide, hands folded neatly in their laps as if to prove they had never done such a thing—never even thought about it.

You felt a heat crawl up the back of your neck.

"When you indulge in these acts," she continued, voice sharp with a warning, "your body burns—not with passion, not with pleasure, but with sin. A fire that does not cleanse, but corrupts."

She paused, her gaze sweeping the room again,

"And when you engage in sex outside of marriage, when you surrender yourself to the desires of the flesh, that fire does not leave you. It stays. It marks you. And on the day of judgment, when you stand before God, He will see it. He will know."

A shudder ran through you. You clenched your hands together, nails pressing into your palms.

Then, the nun's eyes landed on you.

"You understand, don't you?" she asked, though it wasn't really a question.

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came.

And just for a moment, you thought of him.

Sim Jaeyun.

Of the way his fingers brushed over rosary beads in prayer. Of the way his voice sounded when he spoke of faith, of devotion. Of how those hands, that voice, could ruin you.

And as the nun continued, warning of damnation, of the watchful eyes of God, you couldn't help but wonder.

If God was watching, did He already know what was in your heart? And worse—had He already condemned you for it?

"Yes, I understand," you said, though the words felt heavy on your tongue.

Guilt settled deep in your chest. Your palms were damp, fingers twitching slightly as you clasped them together.

You needed to repent.

You needed to pray until the thoughts left you, until the weight of sin lifted from your heart. Until the fire the nun spoke of no longer burned beneath your skin.

"Here, an apple for you."

A small hand reached toward yours, fingers curled around a tiny, imperfect apple. The child's eyes were bright with innocence, his smile wide as he offered it to you.

It was community outreach day in the mountains, where children ran barefoot over the uneven ground, laughter ringing through the crisp afternoon air. The scent of earth and firewood lingered, mingling with the distant voices of volunteers.

You knelt slightly, accepting the apple with a gentle smile. "Thank you," you said, your voice soft.

The boy beamed, pleased by your gratitude before running off to join the others.

You were about to take a bite of the apple when a sudden tap on your shoulder made you pause. Turning, you found your classmate standing behind you, her expression impatient.

"I need you to find Karina," she said, arms crossed. "She's missing again. And we need to leave by three."

You sighed, tucking the apple into your pocket. "Alright, I'll look for her."

With that, you made your way up the stone steps leading further into the hills, where the trees grew denser and the voices of the other volunteers faded into the rustling of leaves. The fresh mountain air brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke.

As you climbed higher, a small tug on your sleeve made you stop.

"Lady, where are you going?"

You looked down to see a little girl standing beside you, her dark eyes round with curiosity. She was sucking her thumb, her tiny fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt.

Crouching down to her level, you offered a reassuring smile. "I need to find my friend."

The girl tilted her head, studying you with the kind of seriousness only children could manage. Then, after a moment, she leaned in slightly and whispered, "Be careful out there."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

She pulled her thumb from her mouth and grinned, baring her tiny teeth. "There's a snake," she hissed, making a slithering motion with her hands. "They bite!"

You laughed, shaking your head. "I'll be careful."

With a gentle pat on the girl's head, you urged her to go play with the others before continuing your search.

"Karina!" you called, your voice echoing through the trees. The afternoon air was with the scent of damp earth and pine, the only sounds around you the rustling of leaves and the distant chatter of children below.

After what felt like ages of wandering, you sighed, pulling the apple from your pocket. Your thumb brushed against its smooth surface as you took slow steps forward, letting yourself take a small break.

Then, just as you were about to take a bite, something caught your eye.

It was small cabin, worn by time, tucked between the trees. You hadn't noticed it before, hadn't even realized anyone lived this far up the mountain.

Lifting your head, you parted your lips to call for Karina again but you heard a low, quiet, barely audible voice over the wind.

Your breath hitched slightly, and instinctively, you stayed silent.

Tilting your head, you slowly took a bite of the apple, the crunch loud in the stillness. Step by step, you moved around the cabin, careful not to make a sound.

You crept closer, your breath shallow, your fingers curled tightly around the apple. The rough wooden cabin stood against the trees, its single window slightly ajar. Through the gap, the muffled voices inside grew clearer—soft murmurs, hushed laughter.

A breathless moan.

Your body tensed, You hesitated for only a moment before tilting your head, peering through the dust-coated glass.

And that's when you saw the most sinful acts you've ever witness.

Karina was sprawled against the wooden table, her back arching beneath the weight of the farmer pressing into her. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, her bare thighs caging his hips. His hands gripped her skin, fingers digging into the softness of her legs, his mouth trailing down the curve of her neck.

Your stomach twisted, but you couldn't look away.

Karina wasn't resisting. She wasn't recoiling in shame or horror. There was no fear in her expression, no sign of guilt or repentance.

She was pulling him closer.

Her fingers wove into his hair, tugging slightly as her head fell back, exposing more of her throat to his lips. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her mouth parting with quiet, trembling gasps.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

The nun's words echoed in your head, warnings of fire, of suffering, of bodies burning for their sins.

But Karina wasn't burning.

Your breath trembled as you stared, as the world you had known—the one built on prayer, on restraint, on the fear of temptation—began to splinter.

How is she not burning?

The apple slipped from your fingers, tumbling to the ground with a dull thud.

A hiss was heard. The sound was sharp, unnatural, cutting through the silence of the forest. Your body stiffened, a cold shiver crawling up your spine. Slowly, your gaze flickered to the tree beside you.

A snake. Its body coiled around the rough bark, scales glistening in the fading sunlight. It was watching you, its tongue flickering out.

Eve was tempted. Eve took the fruit.

Your stomach twisted violently as you staggered back, tearing your eyes away from both the serpent and the scene inside the cabin.

You ran. Branches scraped against your skin as you pushed through the trees, your feet barely touching the ground. The echoes of Karina's breathless moans clung to you, no matter how fast you tried to outrun them.

You needed to forget. To erase the moment of sin that had burned itself into your mind. To cleanse yourself before the weight of temptation swallowed you whole.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee..."

Your eyes clenched shut as you muttered the prayer, over and over, you repeated the words, as if their rhythm alone could cleanse your mind, could undo what you had seen.

The rosary felt heavy in your hands, the beads pressing into your palm. But no matter how tightly you held it, no matter how desperately you clung to prayer, the memory would not leave you.

"Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

You sucked in a sharp breath, your chest tightening.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners—"

Your voice broke. This was your fall.

A single tear slipped down your cheek, then another, until you were gripping the rosary so tightly your knuckles turned white. A quiet sniffle escaped you, but the tears kept coming, blurring the dim candlelight of the chapel.

You could not stop trembling, your stomach tightening, a dull ache spreading between your legs, heat pooling where it should not.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, but it did nothing to stop the throbbing. You clenched your fists, willing the sensation away, but the images had already taken root.

Karina. The farmer. The way her body had arched into him, how she had clung to him. It should have horrified you. It should have disgusted you.

Instead, a shudder ran through you as your mind betrayed you, as the image shifted, reshaped itself into something far more forbidden.

Not Karina.

You.

And not the farmer.

Jake.

Your breath hitched. The thought was wrong—blasphemous. But it came unbidden, vivid and consuming, slipping into the cracks of your mind like sin itself. You saw him above you, his hands gripping your waist, his lips murmuring something against your skin.

Your rosary slipped from your fingers, the beads scattering against the marble floor.

You gasped softly, snapping your eyes open as if waking from a dream—no, a nightmare.

Your hands flew to your chest, pressing against your heart as if you could smother the racing beat beneath your skin.

No. No, no, no.

Tears welled in your eyes again, this time not just from guilt but from fear—of yourself.

This was your fall.

The serpent had coiled itself around you, whispering its venom into your ears, seeping into your thoughts, your body.

Karina was expelled after the nuns discovered what she had done during the community outreach.

You helped her pack in silence, folding the last of her skirts into a worn-out suitcase.

Your nose was red, your eyes swollen—for many reasons. Of course, you hadn't told anyone what you saw. That was yet another reason you were a sinner. You had kept her secret, watched in silence as she was cast out.

But worse—you couldn't stop thinking about it.

And worst of all, you had lost another prayer partner.

Your voice was quiet when you finally asked, "Do you regret it?"

Karina's hands stilled over the fabric of her blouse. She stared at the ground for a long moment before exhaling slowly. "No."

"They're sending me away," she continued. "Some isolated place, far from men. Away from temptation. They'll make me enter seminary, force me to repent, try to fix me."

She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Fix me. As if I'm broken."

You said nothing, letting her words settle between you.

Karina turned then, her gaze finding yours. "But I don't regret it. No matter what they try to tell me." A small, humorless smile tugged at her lips. "But you wouldn't understand, would you?"

Your fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as you folded it, staring at the delicate lace trim. "There are a lot of things I don't understand," you admitted. Then, meeting her eyes, you added, "But I do not judge. I am here to listen."

Karina studied you, her expression is pained. Then she let out a slow breath, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You know the story of Adam and Eve," she said.

You nodded. "Of course."

"They call it the fall," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. "But have you ever thought that maybe it wasn't a fall at all?"

You frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her fingers intertwined. "Eve took the apple. She chose knowledge, chose to know desire, hunger, craving. And for that, she was cast out." Karina exhaled through her nose, a bitter smile on her lips. "But maybe that was never a punishment. Maybe it was freedom."

She glanced at you then, "Christianity tells us that craving is sinful. That wanting—whether it's knowledge, pleasure, or love—will ruin us." Her voice lowered, "but tell me—why would God give us bodies that feel if He didn't want us to use them?"

Your throat felt dry.

"You've thought about it, haven't you?" Karina questioned. "You've felt it."

Heat crept up your neck, shame curling tight in your stomach.

Karina smiled, but it wasn't mocking. If anything, it was knowing. "It's normal to crave, you know," she said. "To want."

"In the city," Karina continued, "I heard students openly talk about sex. About how it's natural. They even discuss things like hormones, the way the body reacts to desire. When your clitoris—"

"Shhh!" Your eyes widened as you shot a panicked glance toward the door. Your hand moved on instinct, pressing against her lips to silence her.

"Do not use such vulgar words!" you hissed, even hearing such a thing felt wrong, like an invitation for sin to take root inside you.

Karina only laughed, she gently pulled your hand away, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "Why? Because the nuns don't want you to know your own body?"

Your cheeks burned, your fingers curling into your lap as you looked away. "Because it's wrong," you muttered. "You speak of things that lead to damnation."

Karina sighed, tilting her head. "Says who? The nuns? The ones who tell us that touching ourselves will set our bodies on fire?" She leaned in slightly, "Tell me, have you ever actually tried it?"

Your breath hitched as you swallowed, your pulse hammering against your skin. "I—I would never—"

Karina smiled knowingly. "Of course you wouldn't. Because you're afraid, aren't you?"

You stiffened. "Afraid of what?"

"That they were lying to you," she said simply.

You stared at her, Karina reached for your hand, her touch gentle as she placed it over your own lap. "If it's really so sinful," she murmured, "if it really makes you burn... then why don't you test it?"

Your breath caught in your throat. Her fingers pressed lightly against yours. "Go on. Just once. Just to see if their words hold any truth."

"If you want to touch yourself," she continued, undeterred by your silence, "put your fingers inside—but don't just push in and out. Curl them inside, find the spot that makes your legs shake."

Your entire body went rigid as Karina leaned closer, her lips curling, almost amused at your reaction. "And your clitoris—"

"Stop," you gasped, eyes widening as you instinctively clamped a hand over her mouth. Your other hand flew to the door, your head snapping toward it, terrified that someone might hear.

She giggled against your palm, her laughter muffled before she gently pulled your hand away. "Why are you so scared?" she teased. "It's just your body. It's natural."

Your cheeks were burning now, hot with embarrassment.

Karina sighed, tilting her head as if she pitied you. "If you ever do find someone," she continued, undeterred, "a boy—"

You swallowed hard.

"Let him play with your nipples." Her voice dipped lower, as if she were sharing a secret meant only for you. "Let him suck them, bite them just a little. It feels so good."

Your thighs clenched involuntarily.

"And a boy," she went on, eyes glinting with mischievous, "his penis—"

"Karina!"

She laughed, completely unashamed of her own words. "What? It's true! If you want to make a boy weak, touch him there. Play with it, stroke it, suck on it—especially the tip."

A choked sound escaped you.

"Giving someone pleasure," she said, watching your reaction, "is just as enjoyable as receiving it. Maybe even more."

Your hands trembled in your lap. You couldn't even look at her now. Your mind felt clouded, a war raging between every lesson the nuns had taught you and the curiosity her words planted deep inside you.

Karina exhaled, shaking her head. "You poor thing," she murmured, you bit your lip hard, trying to drown out the heat rising in your body with pain.

"You should try it, you know," she said after a beat, her voice almost gentle now. "Just once. Just so you know if they were lying to you all along."

Your chest tightened, your heart hammering so loudly you feared it might betray you.

Because the worst part wasn't her words.

It was that you wanted to know if she was right.

So you repented again.

You prayed and prayed for forgiveness, whispering desperate pleas beneath your breath, pressing your forehead against the cold chapel floor. You gripped your rosary so tightly that the beads left indentations in your palm, as if pain itself could cleanse you.

But it was getting harder. Especially now, with Holy Week approaching. Longer prayers, deeper fasting, more time spent in solemn reflection. And yet, the more you immersed yourself in worship, the more temptation gnawed at you.

Especially since Sim Jaeyun was the one leading Passion Week.

You sat among the others, hands folded in your lap, your gaze fixed on the cross, trying not to think about him. Trying not to remember Karina's words.

"If you ever find someone, let him touch you, let him play with you—"

You swallowed hard, clenching your fists against your thighs.

Women and men were not allowed to be seen too close together. A proper distance must always be kept, a respectable space left between bodies. A simple conversation was permitted—but only from afar.

"You do pray very often."

The voice came from behind you. You stiffened, your breath catching in your throat as you turned slightly—only to find him.

Jake stood just a few feet away, hands clasped in front of him. "Is something bothering you?"

You turned back toward the cross, swallowing the lump in your throat. Your fingers curled against your knees, sweat forming at your temples.

"No," you whispered, though the lie burned on your tongue.

Jake was silent for a moment. Then, softly, he said, "You can talk to me, you know. If something is troubling you."

You closed your eyes. How could you tell him?

How could you tell him that the prayers weren't working? That no matter how hard you tried, the thoughts would not leave you? That he was becoming the temptation you could no longer escape?

Your eyes started to water again, he knelt beside you, as his presence settled so dangerously close—closer than what was proper.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your fingers tightening around the rosary.

Jake watched you. From this close, he could see the way the candlelight illuminated your face, casting soft shadows along the delicate curve of your cheekbones. Your skin glowed, almost ethereal, as if touched by something divine.

You looked like a painting—one of the old Renaissance depictions of saints and martyrs.

Beautiful.

His gaze drifted lower, to the way your lips barely moved as you whispered prayers, the words shaky, your hands trembled over the rosary, clutched so tightly.

His eyes fell to your knees. The fabric of your skirt had shifted slightly, revealing the barest hint of bruised skin—evidence of hours spent kneeling.

He had seen piety before. He had witnessed countless prayers, watched the most devout of worshippers bow their heads in absolute faith.

But this—the way you prayed, the way you looked before the altar—felt different. He couldn't imagine what sin someone like you could have possibly committed.

His voice came quietly, "You should rest."

You flinched slightly at the sound of his voice,

"I can't," you murmured.

And then softly, without thinking—he reached out.

His hand hovered over yours for just a breath before settling atop your trembling fingers. Palm to palm, warm and steady, stopping you mid-prayer.

He didn't know what possessed him to touch you. Perhaps it was the way you looked so lost, so utterly consumed by something unseen. Or perhaps it was the fact that no nun was watching, no one to scold him for standing too close, for placing his hand over yours.

His touch was meant to be assuring. Nothing more. Nothing sinful.

But then you stiffened beneath him.

Your breath caught in your throat, your shoulders going rigid, your fingers twitching beneath his. Your heartbeat slammed against your ribs.

You turned your face toward him.

Jake sucked in a quiet breath as his eyes met yours—wide, desperate, a single tear slipping down your cheek.

He had never seen a gaze like that before. Not in church, not in prayer, not in the face of someone seeking salvation.

His fingers flexed slightly against yours, the warmth of your skin radiating beneath his palm. His thumb brushed against the back of your hand, a slow, instinctive movement, like a silent reassurance.

Before he could stop himself, his other hand lifted. Gently, hesitantly, he swiped away the tear that had slipped down your cheek, his fingertips barely grazing your skin.

You gasped softly. It was the smallest sound, but it sent something through him, something that made his fingers linger just a second too long against your face.

Your skin was warm beneath his touch. Soft. Alive.

It took everything in him to pull away.

The moment his fingers left your cheek, a strange kind of loss settled in his chest. He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the fabric of his handkerchief before carefully pulling it out. Silently, he placed it in your trembling hands.

"Whatever you were praying for," he murmured, "I'm sure God will understand."

As if to anchor you back into the faith you were grasping so desperately onto, he smiled.

The kind of smile meant to bring comfort. But to you, it only made it worse.

"I should go," Jake said, you nodded, unable to meet his gaze. He shift beside you, the soft rustling of fabric as he stood. His presence lingered for just a moment longer before the sound of his footsteps echoed against the chapel floor, growing fainter.

And yet, his warmth remained.

Your hands trembled as you lifted the handkerchief to your face, pressing it against your damp cheeks. His scent clung to the fabric—a faint trace of sandalwood and incense, something undeniably him.

You exhaled shakily, squeezing your eyes shut.

God will understand.

A broken sob escaped your lips as you clutched the fabric tighter, your body trembling with something you no longer had the strength to fight. Tears slipped freely down your cheeks, soaking into the handkerchief as you sniffled against it.

Your fingertips skimmed over the waistband of your skirt, then lower, brushing against the thin fabric beneath.

A sharp breath left you when you felt the wetness, sticky and warm, pooling between your thighs, evidence of the thoughts you had failed to purge.

You should stop. You should repent.

And yet, your other hand only tightened around the handkerchief, pressing it closer to your face, inhaling the faint traces of him.

Still kneeling, you stared at the cross before you. Your body trembled, shame curling in your stomach.

You sobbed, your weight tipping forward, forehead pressing against the marble floor. Your free hand clenched at your skirt, your knuckles white with restraint.

Your finger dipped inside, a choked gasp slipping past your lips at the sudden intrusion.

The feeling was new, startling and unfamiliar. You hesitated only for a moment before pressing deeper, your body clenching around the touch, breath hitching as pleasure licked up your spine.

The nuns had warned you—the body will burn.

But as your fingers curled, as something electric shot through your legs, making them tremble, you realized this was not pain nor suffering.

Your mouth parted, a quiet, breathless sound escaping as you rocked into your own touch, your other hand bracing against the marble floor to steady yourself, the overwhelming scent of him filling your senses.

Sim Jaeyun—his hands hovering over yours, the warmth of his palm against your trembling fingers, the way he had wiped away your tear.

Your fingers pressed deeper, and a soft gasp escaped your lips. You imagined it was his touch, his fingers exploring you with hesitant curiosity.

"You do pray very often," his voice echoed in your mind, "Is something bothering you?"

Yes, he was bothering you.

You pictured him above you, his fingers tracing over the same places your own were now.

"Does it burn?" he would ask, voice laced with something both sinful and sacred.

And you would shake your head—because it didn't.

It felt holy.

Your body arched into your own touch, your legs trembling as heat coiled deep inside you, tighter and tighter, threatening to consume you whole. The pressure, the ache, the need—it was overwhelming. It was blasphemous.

Yet, it was the closest you had ever felt to salvation.

A gasp tore from your lips, soft yet sinful in the silence of the chapel. Your fingers pushed deeper, your body rocking to meet them, each movement sending dizzying waves of pleasure through you.

Beads of sweat dripped from your forehead, falling onto the floor. You added another finger, stretching yourself further, testing the limits of your own body. A choked whimper escaped as your walls clenched around the intrusion, your breathing ragged. Your other hand fumbled against the floor, grasping for stability, but there was none—no safety, no sanctuary, no way to stop now.

You think about his hands on your waist, his lips trailing down your neck. Your body tensed, your fingers working faster, chasing the edge of an unknown pleasure that built higher and higher—until it was too much, too much.

With one final, shuddering breath, the world shattered around you. Your body trembled, pleasure crashing over you in violent waves, a silent cry caught in your throat as your mind went blank.

Your body slumped forward, forehead pressing against the cool marble floor, your fingers slipping out as the aftershocks of pleasure left you breathless.

There was only silence. Only your heaving breaths, the scent of candle wax and incense thick in the air, the fading echoes of his name somewhere in the depths of your mind.

Then, guilt settled in, so heavy. You had really fallen.

And yet, as you lay there, pulse still racing, you couldn't bring yourself to repent.

The days blurred into nights, and with each passing moment, you felt yourself slipping further into something you could no longer control.

You couldn't meet your own reflection anymore. The girl in the mirror was not the same—her eyes hollow with guilt, her lips parted in silent prayer that never reached the heavens. You had abandoned the comfort of your rosary, leaving it untouched on your bedside table. Even the scent of candle wax and incense, once a balm to your soul, now felt suffocating.

It was as if a devil had settled inside you, whispering in your ear, feeding your thoughts with things no holy woman should crave. And yet, no matter how fiercely you fought it, you kept returning to your sin.

Each night, beneath the shroud of darkness, your body became a traitor. Your hands moved without permission, exploring places you had been taught were forbidden. Your bedsheets tangled around your legs, damp with sweat, evidence of your transgressions.

And always, always, his name spilled from your lips.

Each time, you found yourself back in the same position—fingers trembling, thighs clenched, gasping into the silence of your room, drowning in him. And it felt too good to stop.

"Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your unfailing love..."

You whispered it every day in the chapel, hands clutching the rosary so tightly. "According to Your great compassion, blot out my transgressions. Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin..."

Tears slipped down your cheeks, soaking into the fabric of your sleeves as you knelt before the altar. You sobbed, your body wracked with guilt, your lips forming words of repentance.

And yet—when you returned to your bed that night, your body trembling with guilt, your prayers still lingering in the air—

You touched yourself anyway.

"It's impressive how you always pray," Jake said, his voice gentle, filled with quiet admiration. A small smile graced his lips. Another interaction. Another moment that would be burned into your mind, another weight added to the burden of your sin.

"How you always find time to speak with Him," he continued. "I'm sure whatever you're praying for, you'd be heard."

You swallowed hard. Would God listen when your prayers were no longer pure? When you begged not for salvation, but for relief from the temptation standing before you?

You forced a polite nod, quickly wiping at your damp cheeks, hoping he wouldn't notice how red your eyes were. How broken you looked. Your knees ached from kneeling for so long, your fingers sore from gripping the rosary too tightly. If only he knew what your prayers had become—not words of devotion, but desperate pleas for deliverance.

You were about to stand, to create distance, to escape before your body could betray you again. But before you could move, Jake lowered himself to kneel beside you.

The proximity sent a shiver down your spine. His presence was grounding, yet it set something uneasy alight inside you.

"You know," he said, voice soft, "I quite admire you."

Jake smiled, warm and sincere, his eyes searching yours as if he was seeing something sacred in you. "You share a special relationship with God," he continued. "The way you pray, the way you devote yourself—it's beautiful."

"I've seen the way you never miss a prayer," he went on. "The way you kneel here for hours, speaking to Him when no one else is watching. I've seen the tears, the way you hold your rosary."

His gaze flickered down to your hands, still red from gripping the beads too tightly.

"And I think... that kind of devotion is rare."

You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away, because his words—his praise—felt heavier than anything the nuns had ever told you.

Because it was him saying it.

He didn't know that your devotion wasn't pure. That your prayers were not for holiness, but for control. That when you closed your eyes at night, it wasn't scripture that filled your mind, but the memory of his touch.

"God must love you very much," Jake murmured, tilting his head slightly. "To have someone as loyal as you."

You inhaled shakily, without thinking, you shifted back, settling onto the wooden pew. Jake stayed where he was, still kneeling, his gaze fixed on the cross. You swallowed. Your fingers curled around the rosary in your palm

"Can I confess, Jake?"

Your voice was barely above a whisper. Jake turned his head, he hesitated for a moment before moving to sit beside you, his posture still composed. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice is with quiet curiosity. "I am not a priest—I can't take such confessions."

You exhaled sharply, your grip tightening around the rosary.

"Forgive me, for I have sinned."

Jake stilled beside you his confusion was evident in the way his brows knitted together, in the way his head tilted slightly as if trying to piece together what you meant. "Why?" he asked slowly.

You couldn't look at him. If you did, you feared he would see it. The truth. The war inside you. The way he was the very thing you needed to confess.

Your throat tightened as you muttered the next following words. "Because," you whispered, forcing the words out before you lost the courage to speak them, "I don't think I want to repent."

Jake stiffened beside you. His breath hitched, his entire body going rigid. His fingers curled against his lap, gripping the fabric of his trousers. "H-How can you say that?" His voice was unsteady, a stark contrast to the usual calmness he carried. His soft features, always composed, always gentle, were now pulled into shock and disbelief.

You swallowed, your throat dry, your heart slamming against your ribs as you forced yourself to continue. If you stopped now, if you let fear take hold, you would never be free of this.

"I think of things I shouldn't."Your voice trembled, but your gaze didn't waver this time. "I touched myself."

Jake's body jerked slightly, his lips parted again, but no words came, as if he had been struck speechless, as if the confession had ripped the breath from his lungs. His Adam's apple bobbed with a harsh swallow, the tendons in his neck tightening. His gaze flickered away, darting briefly to the cross above the altar, as if seeking guidance, as if seeking a way out. But there was none. He could not look at you, not when the weight of your confession was still lingering in the air

"You..." he started, but the words failed him. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. His brows furrowed, "Why are you telling me this?"

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms as you forced yourself to speak—forced yourself to ruin yourself completely. "Because it was you, Jake."

Jake inhale, his eyes widening, but only for a second. Something changed—something deep inside him, something that flickered behind his dark gaze like a dying flame suddenly reignited.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your skin tingling under the intensity of his stare. But you didn't stop. You couldn't.

"I touch myself with the thought of you."

Jake's fingers dug into his thighs, gripping so tightly. His breathing turned shallow, uneven, his chest rising and falling at a pace that betrayed his struggle. His gaze dropped—just for a second—to your lips, before snapping back up, but the damage was already done.

He was flustered.

"D-Do not say v-vulgar things," Jake whispered, his hands trembling slightly where they rested against his lap. But it was his eyes that held you captive—wide, burning, conflicted.

Your throat tightened, and before you could stop yourself, tears welled in your eyes again. "I don't think I'm free of guilt if I confess to God."

Jake flinched at your words. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach for you, to stop you, to comfort you—but he didn't. Because he shouldn't.

"I keep praying for forgiveness," you continued, your voice trembling, "but I do not regret what I have done."

Jake inhaled sharply. His gaze flickered to the cross for only a moment—as if searching for guidance—before returning to you. Your lips trembled as you forced out the truth, the final confession that sealed your fall.

"I only feel guilty because thinking of you is a sinful act against my own people."

A tear slipped down your cheek, falling onto your lap, soaking into the fabric of your skirt. You weren't sure what you were asking from him—absolution, understanding, or something far more dangerous.

"God is willing to forgive again and again, right?" you choked out. Jake's breath hitched, and then you asked the only question that truly mattered. "But are you willing to forgive me?"

His throat bobbed with another hard swallow, but he couldn't speak. Because there was no answer to give. Not one that would be right. Not one that would be true. He stood abruptly. The movement was sudden, almost jerky, as if he was running—fleeing.

You watched him, lips quivering, hands still clenched together in your lap.

His palm was sweaty as he brushed it against his robe, his pulse erratic as he stepped out of the chapel, the heavy door closing behind him with a finality that made your chest ache.

You didn't call after him. You didn't move. Because what could you say? He was already gone.

Jake arrived early at the residence hall, his movements stiff, controlled, as if forcing himself into habit, but as soon as the door shut behind him, his composure cracked. His chest rose and fell with deep, unsteady breaths, his hands running through his hair in frustration. The ghost of your voice lingered in his ears, wrapping around his mind like a noose.

"I touch myself with the thought of you."

"I do not regret what I have done."

His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. He sank onto the bed, head falling back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut.

"But are you willing to forgive me?"

His breath came out shaky, ragged, as he muttered, "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name..." His voice was strained and the prayer did nothing.

Nothing to rid him of the images flooding his mind, of your tear-streaked face, of the way your voice trembled, of the way you looked at him as if he held the answer to your salvation. He sucked in a sharp breath as his hands gripped the sheets beside him, as the tension in his body coiled so tight it hurt.

And then—he felt the unbearable heat pooling low in his stomach. The painful ache of his cock pressing against the fabric of his pants.

He let out a quiet, desperate whine, the sound muffled against his palm as he ran a hand over his face, as if trying to scrub away the shame, the want, the overwhelming weight of you. Still, the words of his prayer tumbled from his lips, over and over, between broken breaths.

Just like Adam, he had been steadfast. Pure. Untouched by temptation. He had walked the path of righteousness without faltering, without question, his faith as unwavering as the ground beneath his feet. He had known his purpose—to obey, to serve, to resist.

And yet, you— the Eve.

A whisper of temptation. Just as Eve had reached for the fruit, her fingers brushing against the knowledge of sin, you had reached for him—not with hands, but with words.

And now, like Adam, he was failing. He had seen the fruit before him. He had heard the serpent's voice, had felt the first stirrings of doubt deep in his chest, where conviction once lived.

He wanted to reach back.

To taste. To know. To fall.

Because wasn't that what Adam had done? He hadn't been deceived—he had chosen to fall with Eve. He had taken the fruit from her hand, knowing what it would cost.

"Take a bite."

The voice echoed in his mind, low and insistent, curling around his thoughts like a serpent coiled around a branch. Jake sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, but he did not see it.

Instead, he saw you.

He imagined you whispering to him, your lips forming the very words that now tormented him. He imagined your fingers brushing against his wrist, leading him closer to ruin. Just as Eve had turned to Adam with the fruit cradled in her palm, you had turned to him with your confession, tempting him in ways he had never been tempted before.

His cock throbbed painfully beneath the confines of his pants, damp with his own arousal.

"Take a bite," the voice urged again, slithering through the cracks of his crumbling resistance. His hands clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He should continue praying, to fight whatever temptation the devil was filling him.

But instead, he lay there, panting, burning not with the way the nun teaches, his body betraying him as he squeezed his eyes shut. He let himself imagine.

"Heaven and earth are full," the voices soared inside the chapel, the morning light streaming through the stained-glass windows.

"Are full of your glory."

Jake's lips parted, but he did not sing. His gaze was fixed on you. You stood in the choir, your voice blending seamlessly with the others, yet somehow, to him, it was the only one that mattered.

Your long white dress fell in soft folds to your feet, the fabric catching in the gentle morning breeze drifting through the open doors. The wind moved through your hair, shifting it slightly, making it look almost weightless.

You were a vision of purity wrapped in divinity.

"Hosanna, hosanna."

Your eyes are dull and distant, told a different story. You sang the words, but you were not present. There was no joy, no reverence, only an emptiness that should not belong to someone standing before God.

"Hosanna in the highest."

But to him, you were the highest. More than the chapel's towering walls, more than the altar bathed in candlelight, more than the cross above them all. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to touch, to reach, to worship. But not as a believer should.

"Show me."

The words slipped from Jake's. Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening as you stared at him.

The small room at the back of the chapel felt unbearably tight, with the scent of old books and dust, the faint aroma of candle wax lingering in the corners. A candlelight was at the center of the table.

This was a place of study, of quiet contemplation, and A man and a woman should not be alone together. Not when the door was shut.

"Show me." Jake swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Show me how you touch yourself."

"H-Huh?" You stuttered, barely able to form words, your mind struggling to comprehend what he had just said. "Jake, you're so pure... I don't want you to be tainted like me. I already disappoint God—"

"Please, just show me."

His voice was desperate, his restraint fraying at the edges. Jake stepped forward, closing the distance between you.

Your breath hitched as he leaned over the table between you, hands bracing against the worn wood, trapping you between his body and the cold stone wall.

"I have thoughts about you too."

Your eyes snapped up to his, his eyes were glassy, his lips trembling as if the weight of his own confession was too much to bear, unshed tears brimming in his lashes.

"I thought of you that night," he murmured. You sucked in a breath, pressing yourself further into the table.

"I disappointed God too."

"Jake. . . " Your breath hitched at his confession as your eyes is searching on him. "Are you not afraid? Of the fire that will burn you?" you asked.

Jake's breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling as he leaned closer, his hands tightening against the edge of the table. "Does it burn you when you touch yourself?"

"Because when I thought of you," Jake continued, "my body just ached for your embrace."

Your heart pounded so loudly; you almost want to lower your head due to the proximity.

"It's not the fire that burns me."

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as his gaze bore into yours, "It's the ache of longing for you."

You had feared he would resist, that he would turn away, condemn you, beg for salvation. But he wasn't begging for salvation. He was begging for you.

"Take a bite," a voice in the back of your mind hissed—low and insidious.

And without another word, without hesitation, you reached for him. Your fingers curled around the nape of his neck, you pulled him in, lips met his.

A low, desperate moan escaped Jake's throat as he crushed you against him, his hands finding your waist, gripping you so tightly. His body pressed into yours, heat radiating through the layers of fabric that still separated you.

His lips moved against yours with a hunger that startled you. The tears that had brimmed in his eyes slipped down his cheeks.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling, needing. The kiss was desperate, both of your teeth are clashing. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. The pressure of his mouth against yours softened after a moment, his lips parting slightly, then his tongue brushed against yours.

A soft gasp left your lips, and Jake seized the moment, his tongue slipping past the seam of your mouth, exploring, tasting. He groaned into you, the sound vibrating against your chest, making something hot coil in your stomach.

Your grip tightening in his hair as the kiss deepened, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes, coaxing you into submission.

"If you want to make a boy weak, touch him there. Play with it, stroke it."

Still kissing him, your free hand drifted lower, hesitant, until your fingers pressed over the hardness beneath his pants.

Jake cried out. His entire body jerked, his hips stuttering beneath your touch as he broke the kiss with a sharp gasp.

"Oh my Lord—"

His head fell forward, forehead pressing against your shoulder as his breath came out in ragged, uneven pants. His hands clenched at your waist, gripping the fabric of your dress.

You swallowed, watching in fascination as his body trembled beneath your touch.

Carefully, experimentally, you pressed your palm more firmly against him, stroking him slow through the fabric.

Jake whimpered. His hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more friction, chasing the pleasure, more relief, yet it was never enough. Your name slipped from his lips in a strangled moan, muffled against your shoulder.

"I want to see you. Please." You whisper, more like a whine as your fingers continued to stroke him through the fabric of his pants.

Jake lifted his head slowly, his breath ragged, his pupils blown wide with something that had nothing to do with faith. Tears streaked his flushed cheeks, his lips parted as they trembled.

His gaze locked onto yours, vulnerable yet so needy.

"W-Will you touch me more?"

His voice cracked at the end, his body shuddering as he fumbled with the buttons of his pants, his fingers shaking too much to work quickly. You watched as he hesitated, his chest rising and falling rapidly, before finally tugging the fabric down past his hips.

Your breath caught in your throat.

A penis. His cock was thick, long, flushed a deep shade of red. Fluid leaked from the swollen tip, dripping down the shaft in slow, glistening trails.

You remembered feeling disgusted way in anatomy class, staring at the stiff, clinical images in textbooks, thinking the male body was strange, almost grotesque.

Now, your mouth watered.

Heat pooled deep in your belly, your pussy clenching together involuntarily. You didn't even realize what you were doing until you were already on your knees.

Jake's breath hitched, his body going rigid. His wide, teary eyes stared down at you.

"W-What a-are you doing?" He exhaled sharply, his voice cracking. You glanced up at him, your hands settling on his thighs.

A whisper from your past came back to you, "Suck on it—especially the tip."

Your lips parted, and you murmured, "I'm going to pray for forgiveness." then you took him into your mouth.

"Ahhh—!"

A choked gasp tore from his lips, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. His hands flew to your head, fingers tangling in your hair, but he didn't push. He held on for dear life.

His knees buckled slightly, his breath coming in ragged, shuddering gasps as your warm mouth engulfed him.

You tasted the saltiness of his arousal, the unfamiliar flavor spreading across your tongue, but instead of pulling away, you took more.

"Jesus Christ, this is disgusting," Jake cried, his voice shaking—yet his hands remained buried in your hair, his hips jerking forward, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

His breath came out in broken gasps as he watched you, watched the way your cheeks hollowed around his cock, the way your lips stretched to accommodate him. His fingers trembled where they tangled in your hair, torn between holding back and pushing in further.

"It feels too good—too good, too good—" he whined, his mouth falling open, eyes glassy.

Your stomach tightened at the sound, heat curling between your thighs at the way he was breaking apart. You wanted more, you needed more.

Your tongue traced along the underside of his shaft, your head bobbing steadily, each movement coaxing more whimpers from his lips. His thighs trembled beneath your hands, his entire body shaking with pleasure so foreign to him that he didn't know what to do with it.

"You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain." The words echoed in the back of your mind, a commandment you had already shattered beyond repair.

But you like hearing him, hearing the way he gasped for God, the way his voice cracked when he moaned between whispered prayers.

Your eyes flickered up, meeting his gaze. Jake whimpered, his breath stuttering as you took him further, pushing yourself until the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat. Your gag reflex tightened, but you didn't pull away. You held him there, letting him feel everything.

"A-Ahhh—!"

A loud, uncontrollable moan ripped from his throat as his head fell back, exposing the column of his neck, veins prominent, his Adam's apple bobbing with every gasping breath.

His body tensed, his fingers gripping you too tightly, as if he was seeing God Himself in the pleasure washing over him.

His moans grew louder, needier—his entire existence reduced to you and the sin you were leading him into.

His grip in your hair tightened, his hips stuttering as he fought to keep himself from thrusting into your mouth, from losing himself entirely.

"S-Something's coming—something's coming."

His voice broke, whimpering and breathless. Still bobbing your head, you reached down with one hand, lifting your skirt, fingers sliding beneath the fabric of your underwear. The moment your fingers brushed against your slick folds; a moan vibrated against his shaft.

Jake gasped, his thighs tensing, his entire body shuddering at the sensation.

Your wetness coated your fingers, and with no hesitation, you pushed one inside, curling it the way you always had when you were alone—except now, you weren't alone.

Now, it felt too good to be true. Because Jake was in front of you.

Because Jake was falling with you.

Your own pleasure built with every movement of your fingers, every muffled moan that sent vibrations through him.

His hand slid down, trembling, until it brushed against your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes, tears from how deep you had taken him, from how overwhelming it all was.

His touch was tender, contradicting the broken, filthy sounds spilling from his lips.

"You're—" he choked out, his voice wrecked. "You're touching yourself?"

You hummed around him, confirming, not slowing down, your fingers working deeper inside yourself as his body tensed above you.

Jake whimpered, his head falling forward, his lips barely parted as he stared. His stomach coiled tighter and tighter, his body trembling as his hips stuttered, chasing the feeling, unable to hold back.

"You look so beautiful," he sobbed, his voice raw and shaking. "So divine."

His gaze never left you, drinking in the sight of you—on your knees before him, lips wrapped around his length, taking him so deep without breaking eye contact.

A choked moan tore from his throat at the way you looked up at him, at the sheer devotion in your eyes. It was as if you had been sculpted by God Himself, crafted not from dust but from light, from holiness.

Jake had always admired you.

The way you prayed every afternoon in the chapel, hands clasped. How your lips moved so softly in whispered hymns, the way your voice blended into the choir like something celestial.

How you knelt before the altar, head bowed, untouched by the world around you, your beauty standing apart from anything he had ever known.

Now, you were kneeling for him, your mouth worshipped something else entirely.

His hips jerked forward, unrestrained, a sob catching in his throat.

"Oh—oh, my God—"

His entire body shook, the pleasure nearly blinding. A choked sob left his lips as his release spilled into your mouth, hot and thick, coating your tongue. His hips jerked involuntarily, pressing deeper until your nose met his abdomen, forcing you to take every last drop.

You moaned at the sensation, fingers working faster inside yourself, chasing the same pleasure that had just undone him. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, salty, forbidden—yet you swallowed it all, not letting a single drop go to waste.

Above you, Jake shuddered violently, his hands tangling in your hair as if clinging to you for stability.

His head tipped back; his lips parted in a silent cry as he came down from his high. His fingers trembled against your scalp, stroking gently.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he whispered, his eyes clenched shut, his chest rising. He held you there, cradling your head against his abdomen, his body still twitching from the aftershocks.

You tapped his thigh twice, a silent signal. Jake inhaled sharply, His grip loosened instantly, and with shaky hands, he let go of you, his cock slipping from your mouth.

A thin string of saliva connected you, stretching between your lips and the flushed tip of him before breaking. Your tongue remained out, your breath ragged, your lips swollen and slick with the remnants of his release.

"You... you swallowed my seed," Jake whispered, you stared up at him through lidded eyes, your breath shaky, your body still moving, fingers still working inside yourself.

His gaze flickered downward, following the slow, desperate motion of your hand beneath your lifted skirt. His cock twitched, still sensitive, yet already stirring again at the sight of you.

"It... it should be in your uterus," he muttered, his brows drawing together. "Not your mouth."

A slow smile curled at your lips, heat simmering beneath your skin as you reached for his hand, guiding it to your cheek.

"Then pump me with your seed, Jake," you whispered.

A sharp inhale left his lips, his fingers tightening at your sides before he pulled you to your feet.

His mouth was on yours again, his hands trailing down your back, finding the zipper of your dress. He tugged it down slowly, the fabric loosened, slipping over your shoulders, pooling at your feet.

Jake pulled away, his lips parting as he took you in—your bare form. His throat bobbed, fingers trembling slightly as they traced over your waist.

He bent down, lips finding the curve of your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

Your gaze lifted past him, to the walls of the room—where portraits of nuns, saints, and martyrs hung in quiet judgement. Their solemn eyes bore into you, unblinking, unwavering. Your chest tightened, guilt creeping in but you didn't want to stop.

Instead, you let your eyes fall shut, choosing to surrender—to savor the moment.

"Teach me how to please you," Jake murmured against your skin, his hands encircling your waist, holding you close.

You inhaled sharply, your fingers threading through his hair before drifting down to cup his face. Your foreheads pressed together, breath mingling.

Jake's eyes fluttered shut as he sighed against your palm, his lips brushing against the center of it before pressing a tender kiss there. His own hands lifted, fingers tracing the shape of yours.

You pulled away slowly, you reached behind you, unclasping your bralette. The straps slipped from your shoulders, the fabric falling away, leaving your bare skin exposed to the afternoon light. Your underwear followed, sliding down your legs until you stepped out of them, standing before him in nothing but temptation itself.

Jake's breath caught, his entire body rigid as he took in the sight of you—completely bare, completely his to look upon, to touch.

His lips parted, his gaze roamed over you, over the soft curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the smooth expanse of your thighs. He had seen statues of angels, paintings of the Virgin Mary draped in flowing white, but no work of art, no scripture, no vision of heaven itself had ever looked as divine as you did now.

You turned, settling yourself onto the wooden table behind you, your legs parting slowly, revealing yourself to him without hesitation.

A shaky exhale left your lips as your fingers trailed down your own skin, tracing along your inner thigh before sliding to your labia. You arched your back slightly, sighing as you spread yourself wider, holding his gaze.

"Come here, J-Jake," you moaned, your breath hitching as you pushed a single finger inside yourself. Jake swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he reached for the buttons of his shirt. One by one, he undid them. He let the fabric slide from his shoulders, pooling onto the floor before taking slow steps toward you.

As he neared, his breath hitched, his gaze lowering to where your fingers disappeared inside your slick folds. His pupils dilated, "It's so wet," he whispered.

Before you could respond, his hand moved. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, still slick from your arousal, and gently pulled your hand away.

Jake's gaze flickered to your glistening fingers, then he brought your hand to his lips.

You gasped, your walls clenching involuntarily as his tongue flicked out, tasting you for the first time. His lashes fluttered shut, a soft groan slipping past his lips as he took more of you onto his tongue, savoring the taste.

When Jake opened his eyes again, they were darker.

"I want more." A sudden moan tore from your throat at his words, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. You reached for his wrist, guiding his hand between your legs, breath hitching the moment his fingers brushed against your slick folds.

Jake sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers trembling as they hesitated at your entrance, slowly he pushed a single finger inside you.

A gasp escaped you as he entered. His jaw clenched at the sensation, his breath uneven as he felt you—felt the way your walls clenched around him, soft and wet and so impossibly tight.

His free hand gripped your thigh for support, his own body shuddering. Then he curled his finger.

"Oh God!" A sharp cry left your lips, your back arching at the sudden jolt of pleasure. Jake choked on a moan, watching you intently, his eyes locked onto every flicker of expression on your face.

He did it again, this time slower, pressing deeper, and your fingers dug into his shoulders.  His breathing grew heavier, his forehead nearly pressing against yours as he whispered, "Can I touch your breasts?"

Your head fell back, your lips parting on a silent gasp. You nodded frantically, eyes shut, too overwhelmed to speak properly. But a pleading "please" slipped from your lips.

That was all the permission he needed. Jake's other hand rose cautiously, fingers ghosting over the curve of your breast before cupping it fully, squeezing experimentally. His breath hitched at the feeling—warm, soft, the peak pebbling under his touch.

You moaned at the contact, pressing into his palm, "You like that?" he asked.

You nodded quickly, tilting your chin up to kiss him again, swallowing his breath. Your body was burning in a way that the nuns never depicted, your core aching with want, and you didn't care how shameless you sounded when you pleaded, "Please, touch me more."

Jake swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his fingers kneaded your breast, his other hand still buried deep inside you, working slow, torturous circles that made you gasp.

"Lean down and suck my breast," you whispered against his lips. "I heard it feels good."

Jake pulled back slightly, blinking down at you, his cheeks flushed. "Like a baby?" he asked, almost innocently, though the way his hips pressed forward, grinding his aching cock against your thigh, told another story entirely.

You let out a breathy laugh, though it was cut short when he twisted his fingers inside you, making your back arch.

"No," you whimpered. "Like a man who wants me."

Jake groaned, before lowering his head, his lips parting as he took your nipple into his mouth. The moment his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud; a cry left you.

He started gently at first, his lips soft and warm against your breast, still testing, still learning how to touch you. But as your back arched, as your fingers tangled into his hair and held him there, he grew bolder.

His lips sealing around your nipple, his tongue swirling. Then his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, just enough to send a delicious shudder down your spine.

"Jake—" you gasped, thighs clenching around his waist, trapping him against you.

He moaned against your skin, his free hand massaged your other breast, fingers rolling the hardened peak between them, mimicking the movements of his tongue.

"Add another finger inside me—please, please," you begged, voice breaking, hands clutching at his shoulders, urging him deeper.

Jake's forehead pressing against your chest bracing himself as he obeyed. His second finger slipped inside, stretching you further, filling you in a way that made your toes curl. Your walls clenched around him, tight, warm, so wet, and Jake whimpered, his hips bucking against your thigh at the feeling of you around his fingers.

"I want you inside me," you whispered into his ear, tears slipped down your cheeks. Jake let out a shuddering breath, his body stiffening at your words. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment. "They said it will hurt," Jake whispered, his fingers, still buried deep inside you, twitched. His free hand came up to your cheek, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb, his touch so tender it made your chest ache.

He swallowed hard. "I don't want to hurt you."

You leaned into his touch, your lips brushing against his wrist as you whispered, "I want to feel all of you, Jake. Even if it hurts, I want you."

Jake's breath hitched, his forehead pressing against yours. With trembling hands, he withdrew his fingers from your heat, watching the way your body shuddered, the way your thighs quivered as he left you empty. He brought his fingers to his lips without thinking, tasting you again, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a quiet, needy moan.

Jake let out a shaky exhale, gripping himself at the base. His other hand rested on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "Are you sure?" he asked.

You nodded, spreading your legs further, offering yourself to him completely. "Please, Jake."

With a shaky breath, Jake lined himself up with your entrance, his tip pressing against your heat. His hands trembled as he gripped your thighs, steadying himself, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly, carefully, began to push inside.

A gasp tore from your lips the moment he breached you. Your arms wrapped around him, clinging to his shoulders, molding yourself against him as your body adjusted to the slow intrusion of his thick cock.

The stretch was overwhelming. Tears welled in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks as your walls struggled to accommodate him. Looking down, you saw—he had barely entered you. Only the tip, and yet, it already felt so much.

Jake let out a strangled moan, his breath stuttering as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

"S-Slow," you whimpered, your body trembling beneath him. Jake nodded rapidly, biting his lip so hard. His entire body was tense, his self-control hanging by a thread as he forced himself to move at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"You’re so—" He choked on his words, a desperate whimper escaping him. "So tight—God—"

His hips twitched involuntarily, and you gasped, your nails raking down his back at the sudden jolt of sensation. Jake's breath hitched at the sharp sting of your nails, his cock throbbing as he pushed in another inch.

A broken sob escaped you.

"I-It’s too much—" you whimpered, your walls fluttering around him, trying to adjust, trying to take all of him.

"Shh, I know, I know—" he whispered, kissing your tear-streaked cheek, peppering soft kisses along your jaw, trying to ease the overwhelming stretch. His hands slid down to your thighs, holding you open, rubbing gentle circles into your skin as he murmured against your lips, "do you want me to pull out?"

You shake your head, Jake exhaled sharply, his breath warm against your skin, his hands steadying you before he pressed forward again, stretching you further. Until you felt his abdomen on your navel. Every movement forcing your walls to open for him, to take him in ways you hadn’t known were possible.

Your breath hitched when you finally felt the press of his abdomen flush against your navel. A hiss escaped you, your back arching off the wooden table at the overwhelming sensation of being completely full. "Y-You're inside me," you gasped, as your gaze dropped between your bodies.

Jake groaned softly, his hands gripping your waist, his cock throbbing inside you as he fought to remain still, to give you time to adjust. "Yeah," he murmured, "I'm inside you."

Your breath was ragged, your fingers shaking as they slid up to his face, tracing the curve of his jaw. "I'm not burning," you whispered, half in disbelief. "I'm not burning."

The nuns had lied. The warnings, the fear, the fire they swore would consume you if you ever gave in to desire—it was nowhere to be found. There was only warmth. Only Jake.

Jake swallowed hard, his gaze locking onto yours. He reached for your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes.

"You're not burning," you whispered. Jake brows furrowing, a gasp tore from your lips as he pulled out slightly before thrusting forward again, sinking into you. His mouth fell open, his head tilting back as he felt you, felt the way your walls clung to him, squeezing him.

His lips parted, but the only sounds that came were broken, incoherent prayers.

"Oh, God—" he choked out. His hands shook as they traced over your body, touching you, his fingers skimming your sides, your stomach, your breasts. You cried out as the pain shifted, morphing into pleasure.

"You're so beautiful," Jake sobbed, he thrust back inside you, deeper than before, his arms tightening around you. His chin rested atop your head, his lips brushing against your hair as he inhaled, breathing you in, letting your scent consume him as much as your body did.

"You're—you're everything," he whispered shakily, his hips rolling into you. "Made perfect, sculpted by God’s own hands," he moaned against your skin. "How could something so sinful feel so good?"

You whimpered beneath him, clinging to his shoulders. 

"I could do this every day," he moaned. Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering open, finding his face above you. He pulled back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his trembling hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, wiping away the remnants of your tears. His forehead pressed against yours.

"I would do this every day," he corrected himself, groaned as he thrust deeper, his hips stuttering slightly at the way your walls clenched around him. "Worship you like this. Love you like this."

Your moans grew louder, your nails pressing deeper into his skin, leaving marks along his back as if claiming him in return.

Jake groaned, his lips parting, his body trembling from the way you felt. "Would you let me?" His eyes searched yours. "Would you let me taint you? Every day?"

His hands roamed your body, gripping your waist, then sliding lower to cup the back of your thighs, pulling you closer. His movements slowed, dragging out every sensation, every inch of him inside you.

Your back arched, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist, locking him in place, your breath coming in soft, desperate gasps as the pleasure built inside you. "Yes, yes!" you cried out. "Taint me, fill me with your seed—I don’t care anymore!"

A ragged moan tore from his throat as he thrust harder. "You're all I've ever wanted." His pace turned desperate, frantic. His hands shook as he rocked into you. His lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as he drove deeper, his body pressing you down into the wooden table. The room was filled with the sinful sounds of skin meeting skin, of breathless gasps and muffled cries.

"I’ll give you everything," Jake panted, his forehead pressing against yours, sweat dripping from his temple. "I’ll fill you up, I’ll make you mine—"

His thrusts grew erratic, his hips snapping forward, chasing release, chasing you.

Your walls clenched tighter, pulsing around him, and he whimpered, his body tensing, his breath stuttering as the pleasure coiled unbearably tight inside him.

"Jake, Jake," you whimpered, your hands drifted lower, fingers grazing over the stretch where your bodies met. You could feel him inside you, thick, pulsing, dragging against your walls with each deep, sliding thrust. 

Your fingers dipped lower, pressing against your clit. A sharp gasp escaped you. The moment your fingers touched the sensitive bundle of nerves, a bolt of another intense pleasure shot through you. 

Jake groaned at the movement, his grip tightening, his lips parting as he watched you touch yourself.

"It feels too good—too good," you sobbed, rolling slow, shaky circles against your clit, heightening the pleasure building inside you. Your walls spasmed around him, gripping him tighter, making his hips stutter.

"Oh my Lord," Jake moaned, his head dropping against your shoulder, his body shaking with the effort to keep himself together. "This—this feels too good. I am willing to sin every day to get a taste of you."

"I would trade heaven just to stay inside you forever—"

His teeth grazed your jaw, his fingers locking around your wrists, guiding your movements against your clit, urging you faster, desperate to bring you with him.

"Please—please, come for me," he begged, and with one last deep thrust, as your fingers circled your clit faster, as his cock hit the perfect spot inside you.

The pleasure snapped through you, your entire body seizing as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. Your walls clenched around him, pulsing, milking him as your climax washed through every inch of your being.

Jake choked on a moan, his body jerking as he buried himself deep, hips stuttering, his breath breaking into ragged gasps. His hands trembled as they gripped your hips, holding you still as his release spilled inside you, hot and thick, filling you completely.

His lips found yours again as he emptied himself into you, his body still shaking from the intensity of it all.

You gasped into his mouth, still riding the aftershocks, feeling the warmth of him inside you. Neither of you moved for a long moment, too overwhelmed, too wrecked to do anything but exist in the sinful haze of what had just happened.

Jake’s hands slowly slid up your back, his fingers tracing over your spine made your chest tighten. Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze soft but dazed, as if he still couldn’t quite believe what he had done—what you had done together.

 "Are you okay?"

Your heart ached at the tenderness in his voice, at the way he searched your face for any sign of regret. But there was none. You reached up, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering against his cheek.

"I'm full of you," you murmured, "I can feel you inside me."

Jake groaned, his hands tightening on your hips, his entire body tensing as he let out a shaky breath. Yet, even as exhaustion threatened to pull him under, his cock twitched inside you—still buried to the hilt, still too sensitive, yet already stirring again at your words

"Don't say that," he whispered, but his hands betrayed him.

They slid upward, over your waist, tracing the curve of your ribs before finding your breasts again, cupping them, thumbs circling your pebbled peaks. His fingers kneaded softly, rolling the sensitive flesh between his palms. 

Your back arched, your head tipping back, letting your hair cascade over the edge of the table. Your lips parted in a breathless moan, the aftershocks of pleasure still tingling in your veins, yet now, a new wave of desire was coiling inside you again. 

You were undone beneath him, your body glistening with sweat, your lips swollen from his kisses, your eyes still dazed, darkened with lust. And yet, you looked untouched. 

His grip on your breasts tightened slightly, his hips pressing forward just enough to remind you that he was still inside you.

"You make me forget who I am," he murmured, his breath shaky against your throat. "What I'm supposed to be."

His lips found the pulse at your neck, trailing down again at every inch of your skin. 

Neither of you noticed the way the candlelight flickered. Because you had both awakened the Tree of Knowledge.

And neither of you would ever return to Eden.

Jake had always been a man of God.

From the moment he could speak, he was taught that he was formed from the dust of the earth, molded by divine hands, a creation of purpose. His parents instilled in him the belief that he was meant to walk the righteous path, to live a life devoted to prayer, to obedience, to purity.

He appreciated every intricate work of the Creator—the way the sun spilled golden light over the stained-glass windows of the churches, the way the choir’s voices soared in perfect harmony, the way scripture spoke of faith and the reward of salvation. He saw God in everything, and in return, he gave himself to Him, dedicating his days to scripture, to service, to resisting the sins that so easily ensnared others.

Where others strayed, he remained steadfast. Where others indulged in temptation, he turned away.

He had watched boys his age succumbs to their own desires— lusting over naked bodies, wandering hands beneath heavy blankets. He had seen the way girls blushed at their names being called by the wrong kind of voice, the way they giggled behind cupped hands, oblivious to how close they danced to damnation.

But not him.

Jake had spent his youth guarding his body, his mind, his soul. He never allowed himself to waver, never let his thoughts wander to things he had been told were unholy. And if—if—his body ever betrayed him in the quiet of night, if his skin burned with an unfamiliar ache, if his mind was tempted by images that had no place in his heart, he would fall to his knees in prayer.

He would beg for forgiveness, whispering fervent apologies, asking for the strength to resist, the grace to overcome.

And for years, he believed he was strong enough.

He believed his faith was unshakable, that no force on earth could tempt him away from his devotion. He had spent his life resisting, rejecting, turning away from desire as though it were a serpent poised to strike.

During one of his evening services at the university chapel, he saw you. At first, it was nothing. A passing glance. A new face among many, just another student filling the pews, singing hymns.

But then, he saw you again.

And again.

You stood among the choir, always placed near the back, always just slightly out of reach—like something meant to be admired from afar, never touched. Your voice wove seamlessly into the others, rising with the organ, filling the chapel, but it wasn't just your voice.

It was the way you bowed your head in prayer, hands folded so delicately. It was the way you knelt before the altar, the way your fingers curled around your rosary.

And every time he saw you, every time your lashes fluttered closed, every time your lips parted to whisper scripture. He would whisper to himself, Song of Solomon 4:7.

"You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you."

Because when he looked at you, he saw something more than human.

He saw a reflection of God’s love, a testament to His creativity—flawless, untouched, pure in ways he never realized he could ache for.

He told himself it was admiration. That his heart only quickened because he saw God in you. That the warmth spreading through his chest whenever you smiled at the nuns, whenever your fingers brushed against the pages of your worn bible, was nothing but spiritual devotion.

But the more he saw you, the harder it became to believe the lie. Because you were forbidden. So untouchable it hurt.

And by the time he had a taste of your poison, by the time your lips had met his, by the time he had felt the warmth of your body pressed against him, wrapped around him. He couldn’t stop craving.

"Jake—" you whined, your voice hushed, breathless, your hands pressed against the cool tiles of the wall for balance. Your body rocked with each deep thrust, your skirt bunched up around your waist, your panties pulled aside in rushed desperation.

Here he was, buried deep inside you in the thin, suffocating space of the girls’ restroom, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you as you bounced against him. He had barely gotten them down before he was inside you. 

Jake let out a shaky breath, his forehead falling against the back of your shoulder, his hips snapping forward, a choked moan escaping his lips as your walls squeezed around him.

"D-Do you love my c-cock inside you?"  He stammered. His hands slid from your hips, traveling up, slipping beneath your uniform blouse to cup your breasts, kneading them, his thumbs rolling over your sensitive peaks as he thrust deeper.

"Answer me," he pleaded, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

A sharp gasp left your lips, your head tilting back against his shoulder as your walls clenched even tighter. "Y-Yes," you whispered, your fingers curling against the cold tile, your knees going weak.

"Say it."

"I love it, Jake," you sobbed, barely holding yourself up as he drove into you faster. "I love your cock inside me—I love it so much—"

Jake whimpered, his grip on you tightening, his entire body shuddering against yours as he lost himself again.

Nothing in this world felt holier than you. Every secret rendezvous was another prayer whispered in the dark, another moment stolen between fleeting glances and hurried footsteps, another sin sealed between trembling lips.

It was your skin against his, pressed against the cold walls of empty classrooms, hidden beneath the dim glow of flickering candlelight in the chapel, tangled in sheets that smelled of guilt and devotion.

It was your kiss—sweet and sinful, your lips brushing against his top lip before capturing him fully, pulling him under, making him forget the weight of his conscience.

It was the way your fingers found his face, tracing over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, down to the sharp line of his jaw.

"Jake," you would whisper, your touch like a baptism, washing away the person he once was and leaving behind someone entirely yours.

Your hands never hesitated when they roamed his body, memorizing the contours of his muscles, the dip of his collarbone, the ridges of his spine. Your body molded to his, fitting perfectly, as if you had been crafted just for him.

And God, how could something that felt this right be wrong? How could he look at you and believe this was damnation?

You were not a temptation.

You were his salvation, And if this was sin—if loving you, wanting you, needing you—meant turning away from heaven, then so be it.

Because Jake had already made his choice and he would choose you every time.

"They say if you have sexual preferences, it's called a kink," Jake mused, his arms wrapped loosely around your shoulders as he stared out at the lake, watching the water ripple under the soft afternoon light.

It was a rare that the both of you escape—just the two of you, away from the suffocating walls of the university.  Here, it was quiet. Peaceful.

You hummed in amusement, leaning back against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "Hmm, I think I have a nose kink."

Jake chuckled, tilting his head slightly. "A nose kink?"

You grinned, turning to look up at him, mischief dancing in your eyes. "I love your nose," you said simply, reaching up to tap the tip of it gently with your finger. "I love how it bumps against my clit."

A giggle slipped from your lips as Jake let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head, his ears tinged slightly pink.

"You're unbelievable," he murmured, pressing his chin lightly against your shoulder, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his fondness.

You shifted, wrapping your arms around his, your fingers playing with the fabric of his sleeves. "What about you? Do you have a kink?"

Jake pretended to think, his lips pursing before he finally admitted, "I love your tongue."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh?"

His smile widened, his fingers trailing lazily along your arms. "I love how soft it is when you kiss me," he said, voice dropping slightly. "I love the way it feels against my skin, how warm it is when you—"

He stopped himself, biting his lip, his cheeks darkening as he let out a flustered chuckle. "You know."

You turned fully in his embrace, resting your chin against his chest as you beamed up at him. "Say it."

Jake groaned, rolling his eyes, but there was nothing but adoration in them as he dipped his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "I love how your tongue feels when you're tasting me."

Your giggles turned into full laughter, your arms tightening around him, and he let out a breathy laugh of his own, shaking his head in defeat.

The wind rustled through the trees, the lake shimmering under the sunlight.

"Do you think God still loves us?" you asked, Jake's fingers threaded through your hair, slow and gentle, playing with your scalp as he stared out at the lake, watching the way the sunlight danced over the rippling water.

"Yes," he said, without hesitation.

You blinked, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. "How can you be so sure?"

Jake exhaled softly, his lips curling into a small, thoughtful smile. "Because love doesn’t disappear just because we fall." His gaze met yours. "God loved David even after his sins. He loved Peter even after he denied Him three times. Love isn’t something that fades because of our mistakes. It’s unconditional."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the quiet conviction in his voice.

"Then why do I still feel guilty?" you whispered, pressing your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Jake sighed, his chin resting lightly atop your head. "Because we've been taught to fear Him more than we've been taught to trust His love."

Silence stretched, only the soft rustling of trees and the distant laughter from the festival carrying through the breeze. After a moment, Jake spoke again, "but when I’m with you…" he paused, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your arm, "I feel closer to God than I ever have before."

You pulled back slightly, eyes searching his, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. "How?"

He smiled, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead again before whispering,

"Because you are the most beautiful thing He’s ever created."

Your breath hitched, your hands tightening around his shirt as warmth bloomed in your chest.

Jake tilted his head, his lips hovering just above yours. "And if loving you is a sin…" he murmured, a teasing smile playing on his lips, "then I guess I’ll just have to keep repenting."

His hands wandered lower, tracing slow, idle patterns along your upper thigh. You shivered slightly at his touch, but it wasn’t just the sensation that made your breath hitch—it was the way his finger moved deliberately, forming letters, one by one, spelling out a single word:

"Mine."

Your lips parted, your heart stuttering in your chest as your gaze flickered up to meet his.

Jake only smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting, "I will leave the university," he said suddenly. 

Jake exhaled slowly, "I’ve realized a lot of things, and one of them is…" He hesitated, searching your face, then sighed. "I don’t think I was ever meant to be the man they wanted me to be."

Your throat tightened. "Jake—"

"Everything is okay," he reassured you, his voice firm, calming. "I don’t regret any of it. Not the prayers, not the faith—but I also don’t regret you. And if the only way to keep you is to walk away from what was never truly mine, then I’ll do it."

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears, your fingers curling around his wrists. "You would do that?"

"I would do anything for you," he muttered, "I was never meant to be a saint, and I don’t think I want to be anymore." His fingers tightened around yours, grounding himself in the warmth of your touch, in the certainty of this moment. "I just want to be yours." 

A breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding.  You swallowed, your lips parting before you whispered, "Ruth 1:16-17."

Jake tilted his head slightly, his brows raising in curiosity. You smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay."

His gaze softened, warm and full of love, as if in that moment, there was nothing else in the world but you and him. Jake swallowed, his fingers tightening around yours as he whispered back, "Song of Solomon 3:4."

Your breath hitched. A sharp sting burned behind your eyes as you realized what he was saying, as the words sank into your skin, into your soul. Tears welled up, spilling onto your cheeks as he brought a trembling hand to cup your face, his thumb wiping them away.

"I have found the one whom my soul loves."

A quiet sob escaped you as you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle into the deepest parts of you.

That was the day you faced the judgment of others.

Whispers followed you down the chapel halls, sharp as knives, spoken behind cupped hands and lowered eyes. You were no longer the devout girl they had known, no longer the image of purity they had placed on a pedestal.

You were cast out, stripped of the life you had once known, condemned for surrendering to the desires they warned you against. For falling, like Eve, for stepping into temptation and taking the bite that could never be undone.

But none of it mattered. Because just as Adam had followed Eve into exile, Jake followed you. It had always been him and you. It would always be him and you.

You would always choose him—religiously, faithfully.

You clutched Jake’s hand, sweat beading on your forehead, your body trembling as pain surged through you. Your body trembling with exhaustion. The midwife kneeled before you, her voice firm yet reassuring, guiding you through labored breaths as she prepared to deliver your third child.

Jake pressed a kiss to your damp temple, whispering words of encouragement, of love, his grip unwavering as he held onto you, just as he always had.

He wiped away the tears spilling from your eyes, just as he had that day by the lake, when he promised you that everything would be okay.

And as you cried out, as life pushed forward, as your body bore the proof of your love.

"You’re so strong," he murmured. "Just a little more, my love. I’m right here."

Another sharp cry left your lips, your back arching as the final push sent waves of relief crashing over you.

A baby’s cry filled the room.

A sharp, piercing sound, followed by the relieved murmurs of the midwife as she carefully wrapped the tiny, wriggling form in soft cloth. Your head fell back against the pillow, your chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. Jake’s hand trembled as he reached for you, his lips pressing against your knuckles, his gratitude unspoken but infinite.

Tiny footsteps thundered against the wooden floor.

"Mama!"

The door burst open, and two small figures ran inside, their eager little hands gripping the edges of your bedsheet.

Cain and Abel—your firstborns.

Their wide eyes shimmered with excitement; their faces flushed from running. Cain, the elder, clung to Jake’s arm, while Abel climbed onto the edge of the bed, trying to peer over your shoulder.

"Did it hurt, Mama? Are you okay?" Cain asked, his brows furrowed in concern, his little hands gripping onto Jake’s sleeve.

"It’s okay, my love," you soothed, your voice weak but filled with warmth as you reached for them. "I am okay."

Jake’s breath hitched as the midwife gently placed the newborn into his waiting arms. A soft gasp left his lips as he cradled the tiny child against his chest, his eyes glistening with tears. His fingers traced the delicate curve of the baby’s cheek, his voice breaking as he whispered, "Seth."

At the sound of his father’s voice, the newborn let out a small, sleepy whimper, tiny fists curling against Jake’s chest. Cain and Abel watched in awe; their excitement momentarily silenced as they stared at their new baby brother.

"Seth," Abel repeated softly, as if testing the name on his tongue.

"He’s so small," Cain murmured, his fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to reach out and touch him.

Jake let out a choked laugh, pressing a kiss to Seth’s forehead before carefully settling beside you on the bed. His arm curled around your shoulders, pulling you close, his free hand still cradling your newest son. And as your children gathered around you, their voices filled with wonder.

As Jake’s lips found your forehead once more, you exhaled, a breathless, relieved sigh. You thought of Eden. Of Adam, formed from dust. Of Eve, crafted from his rib, made for him, meant to be his. The two of them had once lived untouched, unburdened, perfect in their innocence.

But love—true love—was never meant to exist without choice.

And so, they had fallen. Not out of defiance. Not out of sin. But out of love—a love so deep, so human, it had rewritten the course of existence itself.

Your body spent, your children nestled close, your husband’s arms wrapped around you as he held his world in his hands. Your tired eyes fluttered shut, as Jake pressed another soft kiss against your skin, your newborn stirred gently in his father’s arms.

Falling had never been a punishment. Because It is a gift.

perm taglist: @won4me @ikaw-at-ikaw, @kristynaaah, @fancypeacepersona @tunafishyfishylike @vvenusoncasual, @cutehoons02,

[pinkboaclub]

Love On Tour

Summary: You accompany Harry on Tour, when things get too stressful, you’re there to help.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings & More: entirely smut, kind of Soft Dom, praise kink, LOT Harry, I last minute changed this from present to past tense, so if there’s any mistakes, sorry !

You slipped on Harry's favorite lingerie, a sweet spring yellow set that complemented your skin tone perfectly. He was on tour, performing his new album, and you, as his girlfriend, were accompanying him. The tour had recently been catching up to him, each night he would come home, exhausted from giving 100 percent on stage each night. So today, you decided to give him the stress reliever he needed.

When you hear the key card slide into the lock, your heart raced. This was it, the moment you had been dreaming about all day. As the door opens, Harry's exhausted frame comes in the doorway. He sighed heavily, dropping his bag to the floor before he spots you, lounging on the bed in nothing but the yellow lingerie he loves so much. A slow, hungry smile spreads across his face.

"Hi, beautiful girl."

You give him a seductive smile, patting the space on the bed next to you. He doesn't need further invitation, stripping off his shirt, revealing his toned body, a testament to the rigorous tour schedule.

"What's all this for?" He asked with a cheeky smile, undoing his belt as he sat on the edge of the hotel bed.

"I wanted to help you out," You replied, now taking control of his belt yourself, stripping it from his pants. "You've been so stressed out and tired recently...I want to please you, make you feel good."

Once you unbutton and unzip his pants, and free his growing length from his boxers, you start to give his halfway hard dick a massage, running your hand up over and over from the tip to the base.

"Mm, that's it," Harry murmurs, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you work his cock. You lean in and kiss the tip, feeling his pulse under your lips.

"You suck so good, baby," he says, stroking your hair as you take him into your mouth. His words make you feel powerful, like you're the one in charge of his pleasure. You start to suck him deeper, feeling him harden against your tongue. You're eager to show him just how much you want to please him.

"Look at you," Harry says, his voice a low rumble of praise. "You're so beautiful in your pretty lingerie."

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you kept going, taking him deeper into your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. You started to pick up speed, your tongue swirling around the tip, teasing the slit before taking him in deeper again. You could feel him getting harder, his grip on your hair tightening slightly. His praise only spurred you on, making you want to give him the best blowjob he'd ever had.

You moved faster now, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him with everything you had. Harry's breath hitches, his eyes rolled back in his head as he watched you. His voice strained, his words coming out as breathy moans of pleasure.

"That's it," he whispers, "you're doing so good, baby."

Encouraged by his words, you sped up, your lips gliding along his shaft as you took him deeper and faster into your mouth. You felt his cock throb against your tongue, and the salty taste of him became more intense. Harry's hips started to move with you, gently thrusting into your mouth as he lost control. The sound of your suckling filled the quiet hotel room, echoing off the walls.

Suddenly, you lifted your head, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his cock. You look up at him with hooded eyes, a smirk playing on your lips. You enjoy the power you hold over him at that moment. Harry's eyes were dark with desire, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked down at you, his pupils dilated with lust.

In your sex life, Harry was definitely the more dominant one, if there was one, but that definitely didn't stop you from having some level of control over him when you looked deep into his eyes as you sucked his cock.

He reached down, gently gripping the base of his cock to stop you. "My turn," he says, his voice gruff with desire. He stood up, pulling you up to your feet and walking you over to the bed. "Lay down," he commands, his voice firm but not unkind. You obeyed, feeling a thrill of excitement shoot through you as you lay back on the edge of the bed.

"I hate to take this off you so quickly, but I don't mind getting a look at your pretty pussy."

He knelt before you, his eyes feasting on the sight before him. He took a deep breath, his nose flaring at the sweet scent of your arousal. Without wasting another second, he dived in, his tongue pressing against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"Oh, Harry," you moan, your hips bucking slightly as he lapped at your folds. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking and teasing until you felt like you were going to burst. You held onto the bed for dear life, your knuckles turning white.

"Keep going," you whine, your voice needy. Harry's eyes meet yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he saw how much you were enjoying this. He didn’t say a word, just continued his sweet torment, his tongue delving deeper into your pussy, exploring every inch of you like he's savoring a fine dessert.

Your legs shook as Harry's mouth moved in perfect rhythm with your body, his tongue teasing your clit, then plunging into your wetness, only to retreat again. You couldn’t help but moan, the sound echoing in the hotel room. His praise was constant, whispered sweet nothings that make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

"You're the perfect girl for me...I love hearing your sweat moans."

You felt Harry's breath against your pussy, hot and heavy, as he started to lick you again. You laid on the end of the bed, your legs up and apart, giving him full access to your most intimate parts. You held your legs up under your knees, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but also incredibly turned on by the way he was looking at you. His eyes were full of hunger, and the way his tongue moves against your clit was like nothing you'd ever felt before.

"You're so pretty, baby," Harry murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Your pussy is so sweet, it tastes perfect."

With a final, lingering kiss to your clit, Harry stood up, his cock fully erect. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the very edge of the bed. You watch as he lines himself up, the head of his cock nudging against your wet entrance. He looked down at you with a fiery gaze, and you nodded, begging for more.

"Ready for me, baby?" He asked, his voice thick with desire. You nodded eagerly, your heart racing as you felt the tip of his cock pressing against you.

With one swift movement, Harry entered you, filling you completely. You gasped, the feeling of him inside you was so intense it was almost overwhelming. He started to move, his strokes deep and firm, his praise never ending.

"Look at me, baby," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're so pretty when you're taking my cock."

You moan, the sensation of being filled by him while he praised you, pushing you closer to the edge. He started to move faster, his cock pumped in and out of you with a ferocity that left you breathless. Each thrust was met with a "good girl" or "so sweet" from his lips, and it only made you want to cum quicker and harder.

"Look at you, taking me so good," Harry said, his voice strained. He grabbed your hips, his fingers digged into your skin as he fucked you with a perfect rhythm. You whimpered, the pleasure building up inside you. "Keep those legs up, baby."

You did as you were told, your muscles quivering from the effort of holding up your legs as Harry's cock hit just the right spot. The bed shook with each thrust, the headboard thumped against the wall.

"You're so wet, baby," Harry groaned, his eyes never leaving the spot where his cock entered you. "Such a pretty puffy pussy...were you waiting for this darling? Waiting all day for me to come and fuck you?"

"Yes, yes." You whimpered out, overcome by the pleasure his cock was giving you.

His strokes grew more demanding, his breathing ragged as he watched his cock slide in and out of you. Your pussy clenched around him, desperate for release, and he could feel it. "You're going to cum for me, baby," he whispered, his eyes dark with lust. "You're going to let go and show me how much you love it."

You moaned out, the feeling in your stomach different from a standard orgasm. "'m… gonna squirt, Harry."

"Yeah?" he growled, his eyes locked on yours, his strokes becoming more powerful. "Gonna soak me, honey?"

You felt it, your stomach twisting in a delicious knot, your pussy tightening around him. Harry's grip on your hips grew stronger, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched the pleasure wash over your face. You nodded frantically, unable to form words as the pressure grew.

"That's it," Harry encouraged, his voice low and guttural. "Let it out, baby. I want to feel it all."

Your stomach twisted tighter and tighter as Harry's relentless rhythm continued, his praises only adding to the high building inside of you. Your eyes squeezed shut as the pressure became unbearable, and then, with a final, desperate whimper, you let go. The orgasm ripped through you, your body shuddered and convulsed around him as you squirted, soaking him and the bed beneath you.

"Oh, fuck," Harry gasped, his eyes struck with amazement and desire as he watched the sight before him. "Made such a mess on me, baby. Does your pussy love my cock that much?" he whispered, his voice filled with awe as he felt your pussy clench and pulse around his cock.

"Yes, love your cock so much." You moaned out, breathless from the powerful climax your body just went through.

"Good girl," Harry said, his voice soothing. He slowed his strokes, giving you a moment to recover before he starts to build the rhythm again. You felt his cock swell inside you, his own climax approaching. "I want you to cum again," he murmurs, his thumb brushed against your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

You whimpered, your body already so sensitive from the first orgasm that you weren't sure if you can handle more. But Harry knew exactly what he was doing, his skilled fingers and cock working in tandem to push you towards the edge again.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "You're so close." His thrusts were relentless. He forgot about his own orgasm and pleasure, only working to hit your g spot over and over again.

"Look at me," Harry commanded, his eyes boring into yours as he sped up again. "Tell me how much you love this."

You obeyed, looking up at him with a mix of adoration and desperation. "I love it, Harry," you whisper, your voice strained. "I love your cock so much."

He smiled, pleased with your response, and leaned down to kiss you hard, his tongue delving into your mouth as his hips slammed in and out of you. You felt him getting closer, his strokes becoming more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening. You know he won't last much longer.

"Please," you beg, your voice breathless, "I want to feel you cum inside me."

"Not yet, baby," Harry said, his own voice tight with restraint. He slowed his movements, his eyes never leaving yours. "'m gonna make you cum again first."

You whimpered, your body already on the edge. Harry's fingers worked their magic, playing your clit like a maestro with a violin, and you felt your orgasm building again. "Please, Harry," you begged, your voice shaking. "I need you to fill me up."

He pulled out, your pussy feeling empty without his thick cock inside you. You watched as he lined up with your pussy again, the head of his cock glistened with your juices. With one smooth thrust, he was back inside, filling you completely. You let out a gasp, your legs trembling uncontrollably. Harry started to pump into you, his movements slow and deliberate at first, building up the intensity.

You felt your orgasm approaching like a freight train, barreling down the tracks of pleasure. Harry's praise turned into growls of encouragement, his eyes dark with hunger as he watched you. "That's it, baby," he murmured. "Cum for me."

The next few seconds feel like an eternity as your body tensed, your muscles tightened around his cock. And then, with a scream that you didn't know you had in you, you did. Your pussy clenched and spasmed, another powerful orgasm ripped through your body, making your legs shake so badly you think they might snap.

As your body relaxed and the aftershocks of your climax faded, Harry's eyes darken even more. He grabbed your hips and started to fuck you harder, his strokes deep and demanding. You could feel his own orgasm building, his cock swelling even more inside you.

"Fuck, baby," he said, his voice strained. His grip tightened, his hips snapped against yours with each thrust.

Harry slammed into you one final time, his cock pulsed as he came deep inside you. You felt his warmth fill you, and it's the most incredible feeling in the world.

His eyes darkened with satisfaction as he pulled out of you, a soft smile played on his lips. "You're so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with wonder.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving down to kiss your cheeks, your neck, and finally, your still-swollen lips. You could taste yourself on him, and the idea of it makes your insides melt. He pulled back, a finger lingering on your pussy, tracing the mess you both created.

"Look how beautifully we've made you," Harry whispered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He ran his finger up your sensitive slit, the mix of his seed and your juices made you quiver. "So wet, so tight...my cum inside you," he said, his voice filled with wonder.

He brought his finger up to your mouth, his finger shined with your combined releases and you obediently part your lips, taking his finger inside. You sucked greedily, the tang of him mingled with your own flavor making your stomach fill with butterflies.

"You're so good, baby," Harry praised, watching the intimate act with a gentle smile. "So, so good." His thumb traced over your bottom lip as you suck, the sweetness of his words made your heart flutter.

[meadowfics]

in the ring

boxer!kang dae ho x f!reader headcannons

warnings: 18+

dae ho is fiercely protective of you.

he’s not overbearing, but his eyes are always scanning your surroundings when you’re out together.

years in the marines made him hyper-aware, and it shows in the way he instinctively places himself between you and any perceived danger.

he loves holding your hand with his stronger ones, but his favorite is resting his hand on the small of your back.

it’s second nature for him.

sometimes he’ll rub small circles with his thumb, sending a shiver down your spine.

if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, dae ho’s stare alone is enough to send them packing.

he never needs to say anything; the presence he carries is intimidating enough.

the second he looks back at you, that sharp gaze softens completely.

he’s a sucker for you watching him train in the boxing ring.

knowing you’re there on the sidelines, admiring how hard he works, makes him push himself even more.

when he catches you biting your lip as he pounds the punching bag, he’ll flash you a knowing smirk.

“do see something you like, baby?”

dae ho always smells like a mix of sweat, cedarwood, and that subtle hint of cologne you bought him.

after training, he loves wrapping his arms around you, sweat and all.

“thought you liked me raw and real,”

he teases, pulling you closer despite your protests.

"you know I do, big tiger."

he spoils you in the most unexpected ways.

he’s not flashy, but if he catches you eyeing something, it’s yours.

he has a weakness for jewelry, seeing his initials around your neck or a bracelet he bought on your wrist makes him feel like you’re his in every sense.

he uses his prize money from the matches he wins to buy everything you want <3

dae ho loves control.

the man has spent his life gaining it.

he’s the type to pin your wrists above your head, his voice low and raspy as he whispers how beautiful you are.

“mine,”

he growls against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck.

the way his rough hands contrast with his gentle kisses leaves you breathless.

sometimes, he’s soft and teasing, watching you squirm as he drags things out, loving how much you want him.

other times, after a tough match, he’s all adrenaline and dominance, needing to remind himself that he has you, that you’re safe and his.

dae ho’s strength is ridiculous.

he picks you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bed like you weigh nothing.

during sex, he will move you around into different positions without any struggle.

gosh those boxing armssss!!!!!!

he loves how easily he can toss you around.

sometimes, he does it just to hear your surprised giggle.

he trains like a machine, but when he’s home, he melts into you.

after a long day, he loves lying with his head on your stomach, your fingers running through his hair.

he hums softly, letting the sound of your heartbeat calm him down.

he has a habit of tracing his fingers along your skin when you’re cuddling.

calloused hands, rough from years of boxing, slowly gliding across your soft skin.

he memorizes every freckle, every scar, each one making you more beautiful in his eyes.

when he’s away for fights or training camps, he calls you every night without fail.

dae-ho's voice is low and soothing, telling you about his day before he insists you tell him everything about yours.

“i miss you, baby,”

he whispers.

“i hate sleeping without you.”

sometimes, he gets jealous, though he tries to play it cool.

if anyone flirts with you, his arm tightens around your waist, and he’ll lean down, murmuring something like, “they should know you’re taken.”

it’s possessive, but never in a way that makes you feel trapped.

it’s like he needs the world to know you’re his.

he loves teasing you. sometimes when you’re getting ready, he’ll sneak up behind you, peppering kisses down your neck.

“we could stay in,”

he whispers, his hands wandering towards your hips.

“who needs dinner when i’ve got you to eat?”

again, he’s a huge tease in the gym too.

when you come to work out with him, he’ll stand behind you at the squat rack, hands just barely grazing your waist.

“lower,”

he instructs, his voice dripping with amusement as he just stares at your ass and waist.

“that’s it, baby. perfect form.”

if you ever wear his boxing robe around the house, it’s game over.

seeing you in his name, his team logo stitched proudly on your back, ignites something primal in him.

“damn, baby,”

he groans, pulling you against him.

“you really wanna test me today?”

"come and find out what is underneath here, big boy."

at the end of the day, no matter how rough the fight or how long the training, dae ho always comes home to you.

you’re his peace.

“i love you, baby. forever.”

masterlist

author's note: this is based off of this inbox message someone sent me <3

taglist: @chunkzdeluluwife , @theredvelvetbitch , @martinasr00 , @ameliahaa , @googie-jeon , @casually-simping , @erinkeenan , @thewinterv , @breakmeoff , @breeisaslay22 

I do not own the pictures used above

[houseofblve]

𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚- 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝

𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌

after obsessively analyzing the message she had sent, y/n realized she needed to pull herself together. she was losing sight of who she was—over a pogue, no less. sure, a beautiful and kind one, but still a pogue. she didn’t need to be reminded of that.

sofia felt a wave of nervousness as she prepared for work. she hadn’t replied to y/n's message, and now she was left wondering what kind of consequences she might face. would y/n call her out? ignore her completely? it was hard to predict. kooks were always such a mystery to her.

to her surprise, y/n showed up with sarah today. sofia had thought sarah was firmly in the pogue category by now, but instead of leading them to a table, sarah plopped herself down at the bar with a smug grin. it was obvious she knew exactly what she was doing.

"hey, sarah, y/n, what can I get you?" sofia asked, forcing a polite smile.

"oh, i'll just have—shit, i forgot my phone in the car. sorry, i'll be right back." sarah stood up and headed toward the door.

y/n could've killed her on the spot, because as she walked away, there it was—her phone clearly tucked into the back pocket of her shorts. that conniving bitch.

"would you like your usual? i promise i won’t spill it this time," Sofia said, trying to lighten the mood with a half-hearted chuckle.

"you remember my usual?" y/n raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.

"of course i do. how could i forget?" sofia smiled back, but when she turned to make the drink, she missed the slight blush creeping onto y/n’s cheeks. maybe she really didn’t know who she was anymore, because no way should she be blushing over something as simple as a pogue remembering her drink order.

tag list: @mirellef2001 @sqfewrd @isinpfortvdmen @littlxpxtal @furiouscopshepherduniversity @bloodofadoll @luzstarkey @sassyvilliantrope @popou61 @gublerstylesobrien1238 @anacamofficial

a/n: rafe refusing to encourage her delusions so homophobic of him 🙄

[lovebyhyun]

the rush

genre : fluff, han jisung x reader

synopsis : when your best friend is finally ready to give his feelings for you a name.

warnings : jisung is shy, reader is unaware of jisung’s feelings, slightest mention of masturbation if you squint

a/n : can someone send me a request so i can check if they even work pls? lmao

masterlist

Jisung has always noticed that odd warmth unveiling uncomfortably in his stomach everytime he caught himself staring at you for a bit longer than intended.

He felt every single one of his heartstrings snapping when you flashed him a smile. Even the quickest and the smallest one made his heart skip beats and pump so fast, he almost felt it in his throat.

His feelings drove him crazy, yet he couldn’t shake the thought of you off his mind. All the late nights he spent thinking about you, picturing your face, doing things he wouldn’t admit to doing. Sometimes he felt a little insane with how often you filled his mind.

But deep inside, Jisung knew that he would be the best boyfriend that you could ever dream of. So sweet and loving, so caring and genuine.

He wasn’t in love. It was just a thought.

So he acted normal whenever he was around you. You two were absolutely nothing more than friends. Casual. Yet there was an undeniable amount of despair coating him whenever you’d mention another boy.

Whether it was you talking about yourself going on a date soon, you crying over how your ex cheated on you or you mentioning a male celebrity crush, it made his heart ache.

Han always tried to explain it as “being tired of being single” or “being jealous about how many people y/n is able to pull”. He tried so intensely to believe it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help but feel that little spark growing bigger at the very bottom of his heart.

Now his eyes still heavy from sleep and limbs still making a mess with the tangled sheets, he opens his phone right after waking up to check for any important news.

And he saw it.

“im coming over tonight. you better have snacks at yours, love ya<3”

A sweet message from you that made his heart do a tiny backflip. Without realizing it, a small grin started engraving itself onto his face. It was normal for friends to be excited to see each other, right?

A few hours and a few back and forth texts with you later, Jisung prepared a cozy setting for the two of you for tonight. Nothing too crazy, just a few blankets, pillows and lots of snacks.

He remembered every single detail about what makes a movie night the perfect night for you, and he always made the expectations come true. It was the only right thing to do for your best friend of so many years. At least that’s what helped him sleep at night

And you came. Looking like an absolute goddess even in your most comfortable clothes, with no makeup on and a messy hairstyle.

Just with a single glance, he noticed every single detail about your appearance.

How singular strands of your hair framed your face perfectly, your hair tie doing nothing to stop them from getting in your eyes.

How your lashes looked extra long today, even though they had no mascara on. You probably curled them right before leaving.

How your sweater had the slightest stain, barely even noticeable. So of course he saw it. He noticed everything. But he told himself that he was just a very observant person.

He welcomed you in as usual, and you made yourself comfortable on the couch as Jisung put on your favourite show.

Grabbing a pint of ice cream and a spoon, you shot your friend a glance and you simply said

“Thanks for trying. It’s rare to find a friend like you these days.”

Han just looked at you and stopped. What was happening to him? Why was he reacting like this?

“You deserve it.” He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, still he wasn’t sure if it was working.

Even after he finished talking, he didn’t look away. How could he? You were so effortlessly beautiful. You look back at him with a confused look and the tip of his ears went immediately red as he turned to the TV with the speed of light.

Not thinking much of it, you did the same and went back to your ice cream.

Jisung couldn’t quite focus on the characters moving on the screen and the sounds echoing across the room anymore.

Thoughts where rushing through his mind. What was that feeling untying in his chest each time you’d spare him a glance? Was it something more than a friendship he wanted with you?

Breaking him out of his trance, your giggle suddenly filled the room as a funny moment came on the show. And that was it for him.

It was all the confirmation he needed.

Han Jisung loved you.

[melanchoire]

camgirl gaeul who enjoys to roleplay as a dom in her livestreams so she invited her friend wonyoung who is also a camgirl but more sub and “innocent” just for wony to end up dominating gaeul in front of her followers and she enjoying how good wonyoung fucks, overstimulate and edge her in different ways

cw: fingering, humiliation, mommy kink (kinda), strap usage.

gaeul loving to show her followers a dominant woman role because the fact that she is small in height and build fed the perverse brain of her fans 😵‍💫 always choosing to fuck with big, buff people, loving holding broad shoulders while riding a big cock and feeling strong arms hugging her waist encouraging her to continue with her task 🙏🏻

until one day gaeul decides to invite her dear friend wonyoung! a colleague from her work field 💕 gaeul thinking that she will have an entertaining night tonight because wonyoung is much more “vanilla” than her; wony in her videos was always dominated and she wasn’t even on top at least once! she was always bent over any surface and receiving the fucking that a beautiful princess deserves 🥰 wonyoung always wearing the prettiest lingerie, giving cute smiles to the camera and always obeying whoever is going to fuck her this time

both getting very touchy and cuddly once the camera starts the live stream; gaeul rushing to get on top of wonyoung, crawling slowly across the mattress until she was straddling her friend. although gaeul knew beforehand that they were going to fuck and that would involve any kind of physical contact, but she rarely felt quite nervous and a blush soon covered her cheeks when she felt wonyoung’s hands on her waist 😵‍💫

gaeul freezing in place and completely forgetting what she was about to do, needing only for wonyoung to lower her hands to gaeul’s ass and give it a firm squeeze simultaneously burying her face in the crook of gaeul’s neck and start kissing her sensitive skin… poor gaeul failing to act dominant and letting out the most pathetic and submissive moan possible 😭 she was meant to dominate wonyoung and make her the same submissive princess she always is, but no! wonyoung has other plans for today

the typical dominant mommy character that gaeul always tends to play had vanished from the moment she felt wonyoung’s hands on her and her touch, but you know what was better? having her fingers on her 🥰

gaeul kneeling on the mattress and wonyoung behind her, both arms surrounding her and hugging her from behind but one is between gaeul’s thighs fingering her and wonyoung’s other hand is closed around her neck 😵‍💫 wonyoung pressing her body against gaeul’s back, resting her chin on her shoulder to admire the cute gestures and expressions gaeul was making because of how wonyoung was playing with her pussy 🫠 it was never in gaeul’s head the thought or idea that wonyoung could ever dominate… but she was wrong! and so much

wonyoung making the most beautiful noises out of gaeul, ramming her fingers harder and harder in and out of gaeul’s abused pussy just to hear those sweet noises she loved so much, becoming so obsessed with making gaeul whimper and fucking her to the point that she doesn't know if her whining is because wonyoung is pushing her too far into submission or because it’s getting to be too much for gaeul to take 😭

danjangz mating press 😩 wonyoung placing her hands on the back of gaeul’s knees and pushing them against her chest until she practically bent her in half + size kink hehe IM SORRY but gaeul literally has this fetish and seems completely in love with fucking herself with giant dildos SO wonyoung chooses one with a size and thickness that will give gaeul a hard time getting used to it 🙏🏻 wonyoung loving fucking gaeul with the strap and being able to admire the bulge forming in her lower tummy? 100% will take gaeul’s hands and force her to press the bulge, placing her own hands on top of gaeul’s to press further on the bulge when he feels she is being too gentle about it 🤗

MOMMY KINK not really anything interesting but wonyoung would call gaeul "mommy" just to make her a bigger mess... things like ”does it feel good, mommy?" simultaneously to which wonyoung gives a thrust that makes the head of the silicone cock hit gaeul’s cervix, knocking the air out of her completely and making her mean obscenely 😵‍💫 of course wonyoung won’t stop fucking gaeul until she is humiliated on social media for not being able to maintain her role as a dom mommy who now can easily be defeated by a princess like wonyoung

[traumadumpwriter]

Ninety Five

Controlling!Rafe x ED!Reader

“It’s not a big deal, I just want to get to ninety five pounds before Midsummers”

Summary: Reader is suffering from an eating disorder and when Rafe finds out about it he struggles to be sympathetic

Trigger warning for explicit depictions of bulimia, vomit, starving, drug use, controlling behaviour

Word count: 5.7k

Reminder as always that I’m here if any of you need to speak to someone! This is my first Rafe fic and I rly hope y’all enjoy. Working on a part 2 already. (Story is below divider by @kodaswrld )

Part One:

Rafe Cameron could have any girl he wanted, so why did he want you? That was the question that you'd found yourself thinking every day since he'd asked you to be his girlfriend. It didn't make any sense. He was handsome, rich, charming - the king of Kildare County. What on earth could you have done to deserve his devotion?

He knew that you felt this way - or at least that you didn't like yourself. It was clear in the red of your cheeks whenever he paid you a compliment, the way that you'd fidget with your fingers when one of his beautiful kook associates would talk to him, or how you'd look down shyly when he introduced you to them. Part of him liked it for purely selfish reasons. Knowing that you probably wouldn't leave him for someone else - that you thought that he was the best you could get. But more often than not, he found it irritating. He wanted to show you off without you getting embarrassed, to be able to persuade you to wear the tiny dresses he'd buy you in public, to know that you were happy and that you felt worthy around his friends. He even slightly wanted you to try to leave him, just so that he could show you what he would do if you tried.

The first time it had occurred to him that your insecurity was anymore than just that, it had been six months into your relationship and he was watching you get ready for your date that night. He'd wanted to take you out somewhere nice to eat, but you'd managed to persuade him to go bowling instead. He took you out to eat at least once a week and it would be nice to change things up - and to not have to worry about calories for once.

"Well if I don't get to see you in a nice dress tonight, I want to at least pick your outfit." Rafe pouted from his leant back position on your bed, a smug gleam in his eye.

You were stood on the other side of the room, assessing the options you'd laid out and feeling displeased with all of them. You'd been trying really hard to loose weight recently - even harder than usual - but you couldn't see any change in your body. "No matter what I wear, I'm going to look like shit." You thought to yourself, struggling to not show your sadness on your face.

You quickly hid it though, not wanting Rafe to get annoyed with you as he sometimes did, especially not on an anniversary. He would accuse you of not wanting to be with him, of not being happy about the date, and you would have to spend ten minutes convincing him otherwise.

"Okay, sure. But nothing too revealing, there's probably gonna be at least one group of kids, n maybe some old people there." You smiled, sending him a teasing wink.

"Fine. How about those black shorts I like, the Gucci ones, and one of your cute crop tops - you know, the ones with the little cartoon on them." He suggested with a smirk, his voice assertive in a way that let you know there was no point arguing. Not that you would anyway.

The choice was a semi-modest outfit by Rafe's standards and of course you would only be allowed to dress that way when you were with him. Those shorts would not fly with your friends or even to go out by yourself. This control wasn't something you particularly hated though.

There had been one incredibly hot day in OBX where you'd decided to wear a mini skirt to go out and meet some of your friends. They were all dressed in little material too so you didn't think much of it as you enjoyed cocktails with them at the Beach Club. When Rafe picked you up a couple of hours later, his jaw had clenched instantly upon seeing you and he paced over before you could even step down the wooden steps and into the car park. He'd grabbed you by your waist and practically dragged you back to the car, hissing that "there were filthy Pogues about" and that you were "stupid for dressing like that when he wasn't there to protect you." You'd apologised profusely and promised to never wear that skirt without him again. And you hadn't.

You pulled off your comfy clothes and put on the new outfit, feeling Rafe's eyes devour you the entire time. He always loved to watch you get dressed, examining your body with lustful obsession. He knew every inch of your body like the back of his hand - or at least he thought he did - which was why he was confused when you slipped on the shorts. They had always been tight fitting - that was why he liked them - but as he gazed at your thighs and ass now, he could see that there had been a slight change in how the material sat on you. It was looser - not in a severe way, the shorts still revealed your shape nicely - but it was enough for him to notice.

You hadn't even turned to look at him yet, still disappointedly looking at yourself in the mirror, when he offered his opinion, his unaroused tone taking you off guard.

"Have you lost some weight or something? They don't fit as well as the last time I saw them." He questioned, slowly sitting up to get a better look.

You blushed, looking down at yourself and then at him. Any discussion of your body - particularly the size of it - made you extremely uncomfortable.

"I don't know. I don't think so." You mumbled, scratching your arm awkwardly.

"Come here." He demanded softly and you obliged, stepping towards him and standing beside the bed, his head level to your stomach.

He eyed your body closely, a light crease between his brow, and then motioned for you to spin around, which you did with a blush. Waiting for his verdict felt like minutes long torture, though it was realistically only a few seconds before he spoke again. He wrapped his arms around your hips and pulled your ass into his face, grinning as he did.

"All mine." He stated into your flesh, humming in satisfaction as he lightly groped your skin.

After feeling how stiff you'd gotten beside him, he'd decided not to say anything more of your weight - but he had concluded that you'd lost some. You perceived his lack of a verbal decision to mean the opposite though and felt silently mortified, imagining that your boyfriend had come to the conclusion that you'd actually put on weight but just didn't want to embarrass you.

"She's probably just been busy with studying and forgot to have a few meals. I'll take her out for some nice food tomorrow." Rafe thought to himself and then moved his focus onto how good you looked in the outfit he'd picked, entirely unaware of how horrible you felt inside.

The next time he found himself worrying about you was a month later in a restaurant with Topper, Kelce and their dates - Georgia and Elle.

You were wearing one of the dresses that Rafe had bought you that week; flowy and loose fitting as you'd requested it to be much to his dismay but short and cute much to his satisfaction. He loved having you on his arm anywhere, but especially next to his friend's girls. You looked obviously more attractive than them and that served to boost his ego massively. He could see it on the faces of Topper and Kelce too - they knew that he'd won that contest.

You didn't see that though. In fact, you automatically compared yourself to Georgia and Elle as soon as you'd all sat down and found yourself wishing that the ground would swallow you up.

"Everyone must think Rafe is mad for being with me. They must laugh when they see us together. Especially next to these girls. They're so beautiful. I look like a pig next to them." Your thoughts started to spiral, though they remained hidden by your polite smile and casual conversation.

When the menus came out, instead of looking at the names of any of the dishes available your eyes went straight to the calories written next to them, and you chose the meal with the lowest amount without much consideration for what it would actually taste like. Rafe had taken you out to eat every night that week and all of the meals had been good, overly priced, high calorie heaven. It would be nice to not have to make yourself sick after this one.

"Really? Just a salad?" Rafe scoffed after you told your order to the waitress, causing you to stiffen up against him anxiously.

"I'm not that hungry." You smiled awkwardly but he shook his head with a wink.

"Put the salad on the side, she'll have the carbonara." He turned to the waitress and you didn't dare to disagree with him in front of his friends. He was just trying to be nice after all.

You chuckled and nodded at the waitress, sending her off as the conversation resumed around the table.

"So I hear that the Pogues are planning on throwing some kind of surf party at the beach tonight. Anyone else feel like crashing?" Elle suggested with a sly grin, earning a proud kiss from Kelce.

"Sounds like a good plan." Topper stated, less interested in Georgia who didn't look impressed with the girls suggestion.

The only reason Topper wanted to go was to mess with his ex, Sarah Cameron, and her new group of friends. Everyone at the table knew that - including Georgia. You shot her a sorry look as Rafe's arm snaked around your waist, agreeing with his friend, but to your surprise she shot you a sorry look back.

"Maybank needs his head kicked in." Snorted Rafe. "Always got his eyes on you, don't he Y/N? Piece of shit just wishes he could have a chance."

"I'm not sure that I'm really his type to be honest." You jested.

"He doesn't have a type, he'd stick his dick in anything. Last I heard he'd been doing it with Kiara, although she's probably done the whole gang." Topper snorted, earning a chorus of chuckles from around the table.

Food came and went, and soon everyone was gearing up to leave and start pre-drinking for whatever they were going to do that night. You didn't particularly want to join them for a multitude of reasons but the evening had spun entirely out of your control and there was nothing you could do to stop it now.

Luckily, there was one small thing that you could still control.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." You said to Rafe, sliding out of the booth as the waitress came over with the bill.

"Women and their tiny bladders." He tutted with a teasing smirk, which you playfully returned before walking away.

The restroom was empty. You went into the last stall and flung yourself down in front of the porcelain bowl before swiftly putting your fingers down your throat. It didn't take long to achieve the desired affect - having gotten very used to it - and you were soon feeling waves of relief crash through you. Your anxiety was suddenly under control again and you felt that maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad. Even at the sound of footsteps coming to the stall next to you, you kept your fingers there and let another calming wave settle through you before cleaning yourself up.

You waited in the stall for the other person to leave and then stepped quickly to the sinks, splashing your face with cold water before chewing a piece of gum.

"I look fine. I'm fine." You said to yourself, looking in the mirror one last time before stepping out, a smile on your face that was instantly uprooted by the concerned expression on your boyfriend's face.

He was stood right outside the toilets and from across the room you could see that your dining accomplices were looking over.

"Georgia said that you were being sick in there. Do you not feel well?"

"Oh." Was all you could say at first, your brain short circuiting before desperately scrambling for an excuse. "I don't think that was me she heard."

"She went in right after you, said there was no one else in there." He frowned, examining you closely.

You didn't know what to say, shrinking under his intense gaze. He'd caught you in a lie and now you were only going to have to deepen it further. With an anxious swallow, you started to open your mouth but to your surprised relief he spoke in a soft tone.

"Listen, if you don't feel well baby that's fine. We don't have to go out tonight. Did you think I was gonna make you?"

"No- I- I just didn't want to ruin your fun. You can still go out if you want." You answered, which he smiled and shook his head at.

He leaned down closer to you and said lowly "It would be boring without you. Let's just go back to yours and I'll nurse you back to health."

His breath on your skin gave you goosebumps and your stomach did an excited flip as he told his friends that you would be staying in.

A few hours of fucking and cuddling later, you were cozy under your covers, looking up at Rafe with adoring eyes as he got dressed. His beauty never ceased to amaze you; everything from his angelic face to his chiseled body - and the fact that he was yours still didn't feel real.

Rafe caught your eye, smirking at the redness forming on your cheeks. He leant over the bed and planted a short kiss on your head.

"You're cute." He mused, momentarily reconsidering his plan to meet his friends after all. "You sure you're feeling better?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Go be with your friends. I'll survive." You answered in a sweet tone.

"Weird how you were sick like that earlier. Maybe it was something in the food." He mumbled.

"Probably. Don't worry about it. I feel okay now." You agreed, your heartbeat rising slightly as he eyed you with uncertainty.

He opened his mouth but then quickly shut it, sucking in his lips like he was annoyed before sitting down on the end of your bed.

"I just think that if it was the food, you'd probably still feel sick now. Right?"

"I- I don't know."

"And it was weird that your first reaction was to lie to me about it."

"I just didn't want to worry you. I'm sorry."

He still looked unimpressed as he eyed you, but his face softened slightly after a moment and he mumbled "I know... you never want to worry me."

He left shortly after that and you were relieved that his suspicion had seemingly been dealt with. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, but little did you know that Rafe's was extremely suspicious and his mind was running through different theories - none of them good.

"Maybe she's pregnant and doesn't want me to know. She thinks I'd leave her.. or make her get rid of it." Was his first idea - something that he had to sit in his parked car in silence for a couple minutes to process. Once he'd decided that that probably wasn't the case, he moved onto his next theory - that you were acting weird because you wanted to leave him. The insecure part of his brain screamed out at him that that was probably the case, but he was able to put that out of his mind pretty quickly, thinking of the way you looked up at him with absolute adoration, how you clung onto him for protection, how you moaned his name.

Remembering how his name had fallen from your lips a few hours prior, he smirked to himself and relished in the memory. You'd been entirely on display beneath him, hardly able to keep your mouth shut as he rammed into you. You were so beautiful and delicate beneath him, he felt like a God knowing that he could make an angel feel so good. With his hands around your waist, you felt tiny and breakable - and he felt powerful.

But then he remembered that a thought had momentarily occurred to him earlier on; of how you felt smaller than usual. Quite a fair bit smaller. It had come and gone in that moment, distracted by your tits, but now he was focusing on it. You'd definitely lost weight since he'd last thought about it, and that didn't make sense - since then he had spent most days with you and you'd been eating a good amount; he'd made sure of it.

So then the idea suddenly occurred to him, shocking and confusing; that you'd been making yourself sick. That was why you'd been loosing weight. That was why you'd lied about it. It didn't make any sense that you would do that to yourself until he thought on it a bit longer and... maybe it did. You'd never been particularly kind to yourself... but you'd never been outright unkind either.

Three nights later, awoken by your movement in the early morning, Rafe confirmed his suspicion. Usually when you got up in the night and accidentally woke him he would ignore it and go back to sleep, this time he only pretended to do so.

He listened as you crept to his bathroom, ears pricking as he heard the sound of retching. He sat up out of the bed and crept to the ajar door, peaking through the gap and grimacing at the sight. You were bent over the toilet with your hand in your mouth, eyes watering and forehead beaded with sweat.

Without your shoulders poised properly and unguarded in the yellowish bathroom light, Rafe was surprised by just how vulnerable you looked. Your body looked about ready to snap with every heave, your shoulder blades poking through your pyjama shirt like metal under a sheet.

He stood and watched until the vomit finally exited your throat, and saw the look of bliss on your face at the release. You leant over the bowl for another minute, catching your breath before pushing the handle down, jumping out of your skin at the sound of Rafe's voice.

"How long have you been doing this?" He questioned, his voice low and sounding almost completely void of emotion.

He was stood in the doorway, his arms crossed across his chest and a blank expression on his face. It worried you - not being able to read him - and you froze, suddenly terrified that you'd pissed him off. How long had he been stood there? Could you get away with this?

"Rafe- I didn't meant to wake you. I- I must have a bug or something-"

"Don't give me that bullshit Y/N. You've been making yourself sick after you eat, I know you have. Just tell me how long you've been doing it for." He said plainly, his jaw twitching.

You noticed that he was twisting one of his hands, clicking his wrist and fingers with his each moment. He was angry. Anxious tears threatened to spill over the brims of your eyes but you managed to blink them back, swallowing and taking a breath before answering. You stood up and tried to look like you were completely fine, running your hand under the tap.

"Not long. It's not a big deal." You lied. "I-I'll stop if you want me to."

"Yeah, you will stop. That shit is fucked up, Y/N." He said with aggressive certainty.

He was enraged that you'd been doing this to yourself, but he was more angry with himself for not clocking onto it sooner.

"I don't get it- do I not love you enough or something? Why would you do this to yourself?"

"What? No. Of course not. It's not your fault - it's- you love me more than enough. I'm sorry baby. I just wanted to loose some weight. I- I wanted to look good for you. F-For Midsummers." You stammered, stepping closer to him, hoping that he would open his arms and embrace you in a way that would let you know you were forgiven. He stayed still though, his arms crossed, lip curled and brows furrowed.

"So this is my fault."

"No! That's not what I meant-"

"And you're doing this to look good? You look like shit, Y/N. Take better care of yourself." He cut you off with a harsh scoff and then turned around, going back to bed without another word.

Your gut twisted and a dagger struck your heart. A real nausea rose in your body and you felt that you might actually need to be sick. Your hands shook uncontrollably and the tears that you'd previously been able to suppress spilled down your cheeks as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Rafe had never said anything like that to you before. He'd gotten angry and told you to shut up, reminded you of all the things he did for you, told you to change your outfit, berated you for being anxious about going somewhere. But at the end of all that - you'd still always been his beautiful girl.

"I look like shit." You repeated to yourself in your head. "If Rafe ever catches me being sick again, he's going to leave me. I should've seen this coming. I'm already not good enough for him - why would he want a bulimic girlfriend?"

You splashed your face with water and stared at yourself, only seeing the gaunt tiredness and red blotches - not thinking as to why you looked that way.

"I'm going to have to find a new way to loose weight. It'll be fine. I can go to the gym." You decided, trying to calm down. "I can make Rafe think I'm beautiful again. I'll start wearing a full face of makeup every day and just keep some distance until I reach my goal weight. By this time next week, he won't even remember seeing me like this."

Eventually, you were calm enough in your delusion to crawl back into bed with him, sticking to your side and not daring to try to initiate a cuddle. He already seemed to be asleep anyway and you didn't want to wake him up again.

You were surprised to find the bed empty when you woke up the next morning, a note in place of where Rafe would usually be.

"Got to do some shit with my dad. I'll see you later." It read and you found yourself feeling sick again, becoming certain that Rafe was disgusted by you now.

The few times that you'd woken up to a note or a text like that, it always ended with a "love you". The empty space where it ought to have been mocked you. With a shaky breath, you got out of bed and pulled your clothes on, grabbing your belongings from the side before making your way to your car. Rubbing salt into the wound, Ward was downstairs.

"You alright, Y/N?" He questioned, genuine concern on the older man's face.

He liked you a lot - claiming to Rafe that it was about time he brought a nice girl home - and would sometimes worry about how his son was treating you.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just got some studying to do." You lied with a forced smile.

It was something that Ward could see right through, but he nodded anyway and allowed you to believe you'd fooled him.

"Is Rafe up yet?" He asked.

"Yeah, he's gone out to play golf, I think." You answered, entirely uncertain of the truth and starting to worry that he might actually be with another girl.

Ward rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath but smiled at you nonetheless. When you finally got home you were unsurprised yet relieved to find that your mother was out - most likely at her boyfriends - and you quickly made your way to your room, throwing yourself onto your bed and letting out the sobs you'd been suppressing.

You wanted to get up and do some exercise - to start bettering yourself as you had planned to do - but with no food in your body, you had no energy and so ended up spending the day hiding under your covers. You thought about calling Rafe, but you were too embarrassed, and then you even thought about calling Sarah - having been quite close with her before you started dating her brother - but you didn't dare to do that either. Instead, you slept and cried the day away, wondering where your boyfriend was and if he even still loved you.

Meanwhile, Rafe was sprawled across the sofa of Topper's beach house, an empty bottle of whisky on his lap and a mirror decorated with white lines at his side. He had decided to break into the residence - as he had many times before - some hours prior, calling Topper once he'd gotten inside and demanding that his friend come and meet him.

"It's eleven in the morning bro, what the hell is wrong with you?" Topper had sighed upon entering the residence, seeing that Rafe had raided his parents very expensive liquor cabinet. "You better replace all that. My dad is gonna be pissed."

Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Obviously I'm gonna replace it. When was the last time your old man came down here anyway? Isn't he too busy sucking up to mine?"

Topper ignored his blatant rudeness and sat down on the polished leather seat beside the matching sofa Rafe had claimed. He grabbed the mirror from the side and picked up the rolled up note, inhaling a line before speaking.

"What are you doing here at this time anyway? Have you been up all night?"

"No. I got up about an hour ago."

"So what are you doing then?"

Rafe sighed, snatched the mirror back from Topper and snorted another line. He let his head fall backwards and looked up at the ceiling, forcing the powder down to the back of his throat - the bitter taste having become therapeutic through his habitual use.

"I don't know if I'm good for Y/N." He muttered after a moment.

"Why not?" Topper returned, acting clueless although your mental decline had been somewhat visible to him for the last couple of weeks. He'd just assumed that you'd been doing too much coke with Rafe.

Rafe shrugged.

"I think she might just be fucked in the head, you know?"

"All women are. But with one as hot as that - you kind of just gotta put up with it. You know what I mean?" Topper snorted. "I mean, Georgia's a total fucking bitch. The other day she complained about her outfit for an hour straight! Some bullshit about how the collar of her shirt was making her look fat. God knows I wouldn't put up with it if she wasn't so fine."

Rafe rolled his eyes and spoke matter-of-factly, his head still facing the ceiling. "Yeah well Y/N isn't a bitch. And Georgia's not even that hot. Everyone knows you're just rebounding after my bitch sister."

"Shut up, man. She's got a good rack and you can't even deny that. And if Y/N's not secretly a bitch then what's the problem? You seem like you've lucked out with that one."

Topper poured himself a drink, secretly aggravated with how his friend always seemed to have things go right for him. The richest dad on the island, a good career handed down to him and a beautiful girlfriend who practically no one had anything bad to say about. Rafe had some clue to how lucky he was, but he didn't fully get it. The taller boy thought about telling his friend the truth of what he'd seen the night before, but he feared that it might reflect badly on him so he didn't for the time being. Instead, he agreed that Georgia did have a good rack and changed the subject.

Late into the evening though - after spending the entire day drinking and playing video games - the conversation came up again and this time Rafe was too inebriated to play it cool. The image of you hadn't been able to escape his mind no matter how fucked up he got and he needed to vent.

The game had been paused so that Topper could pour them more drinks, and the temporary silence was unbearable to Rafe.

"I caught Y/N making herself be sick last night." He blurted out, his tone low and solemn. "And then I was kind of a dick about it."

Topper didn't seem too interested in what Rafe was saying, his eyes fixed on the drink he was pouring as he replied "What do you mean? Like she was unwell?"

"No. Like she's fucking anorexic or something." Rafe responded with some frustration. "I think she's been doing it for a while."

At this Topper looked up, his expression seeming almost amused in his surprise.

He scoffed "Well shit. I didn't see that coming" to which Rafe quickly hissed "It's not fucking funny" and Topper's smile dropped.

"Nah you're right dude, it isn't. Sorry."

Rafe ignored his apology, continuing his rant as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I just don't get why she would do that to herself. Do I not treat her good enough or something? Like, I thought that shit was for weird emo girls with fuckin' daddy issues or something. Why the fuck would Y/N feel the need to do that? It doesn't make any sense."

Topper shrugged and sighed. "I don't know but you should get it sorted before it gets out of hand. That's what got Josie Tenthro sent to a psych ward in the tenth grade, remember? The weird girl - weighed like ten pounds. Apparently she almost died."

Rafe sat up straight with an unamused scoff, rubbing the back of his head with one hand whilst the other reached for the coke mirror. His friend was so stupid.

"Well thanks Top that really makes me feel better. Guess I'll just ship my girlfriend off to a looney bin then, huh? Fucking dick." He seethed before inhaling a line. "I don't even know why I told you anything. Just forget about it."

Topper held his hands up defensively,

"Woah, woah. Chill out bro. That's not what I meant. You and I both know that Y/N doesn't belong in one of those places. She's a sweet girl whose obviously just a bit down in the dumps for whatever reason. Why don't you take her on a little holiday or something? Show her a real good time."

Rafe considered that option for a moment, liking the sound of it but quickly deciding that it wouldn't fix things. If anything it might make them worse. After all, you had said that you wanted to look good for him. Would some time apart be the best thing for you? Some part of him knew that it probably would be, but selfishly he couldn't allow that. He needed to be with you, and as he thought on it deeper, he needed to be with you now.

Without visibly acknowledging Topper, he grabbed his phone and dialled your number, extremely dismayed when you didn't pick up. It was only nine PM - were you really asleep already? Or had you gone out? That last option made him feel unsettled. In a split second decision, he decided that he was going to just turn up at yours and climb into your bedroom window.

"I've gotta go. I'll see you later." He mumbled to Topper, ignoring his friends questions as he headed straight to his motorbike.

The drive to yours was luckily short and the climb up the side of your house was quite easy, meaning he'd managed to do both things accident free despite his extremely intoxicated state. When he saw you curled up in your bed, forehead damp with sweat and arms wrapped tight around a pillow, any hint of insecurity or frustration vanished as he took in your appearance. You were beautiful and there was no one else he wanted more than you.

"Hey babe, wake up." He shook you lightly with a drunken grin, pleased when you stirred awake.

"Rafe?" You said groggily. "What time is it?"

"It's nine baby, how come you're asleep already?"

He was slurring more than he realised and that brought you back to all the anxiety you'd been feeling all day. What had he been doing? Drinking, obviously, but with who?

"I took a nap, I didn't mean to." You answered. You thought about expanding on your words, of maybe even questioning him, but he spoke quickly and as if your answer hadn't really mattered.

"You're like.. the prettiest girl ever. You know that?" He whispered, moving a hand to stroke your face. "I'm sorry I left this morning."

Any anger that you might've felt immediately evaporated at that. Rafe rarely apologised and hearing the words made you feel guilty.

"Don't be sorry-" you began but then he spoke again, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip.

"I am sorry, Y/N. It was a dick move. I'm really fucked up right now, I've been with Topper all day." He said with a heavy exhale. "But I just needed to come here and tell you to seriously never do that shit to yourself again. You're perfect, you don't need to do that to yourself. Is that understood?"

His eyes were wide and his jaw was tight but you were charmed nonetheless, nodding as you gazed up at his sculpted face.

"I wanna hear you say it." He said, his fingers slightly shifting position again so that he was stroking your cheek.

You swallowed nervously, entirely exposed under his gaze and unable to deny him anything.

"I'm not going to make myself sick again." You whispered, blushing as the words came out.

A smile pulled at the corner of his lips and he mumbled "good girl" before leaning down and kissing you, his touch instantly making up for the entire day. "My good, beautiful girl."

[cinnamonnbby]

.NSFW MDNI.

ADMIRABLE VI X TREASURED READER HC

cw: subfemme!reader X dom!vi, fingering but it’s not straight up implied, guided masturbation, biting, scratching, tribbing, that’s kinda it

Vi loves your body. no questions asked. every roll, every scar whether natural or not, she loves it. she adores every hair, every wrinkle, and every freckle. there’s nothing she enjoys more than when she’s on top of you and she’s able to look at every inch of your bare body. “god you’re beautiful,” she says, “I wish I could put you in a frame and stare at it all day.” you giggle under your raspy breath at her weird comment but it’s nothing unusual she hasn’t said before. your body is so intoxicating to her that when she tries to describe her feelings and thoughts nothing but messy and unfinished sentences leave her chapped lips.

Vi who is sure to help you recognize how beautiful you are, makes you sit at the edge of bed while she’s at your feet and tells you how to touch yourself. she isn’t very handsy, but instead focused on how you make yourself feel. “I want you to sit here and feel yourself, baby.” she slides off the edge of the bed, pulling your hips to the end. as she lowers herself and sits on her knees you open your legs. Vi doesn’t look at what’s there, instead she goes for your hand and places it where you’ve begun to feel your wetness spread. “like this.” she starts to gently trace your index and middle finger in between your cunt making sure they’re wet enough to glide over your desperate clit. “juuust like that….” her quiet voice trails off as she looks up with her puppy eyes to see how you react. she’s pleased to see your legs open as wide as they can, your back beginning to arch, and your hips start to roll into your own hand. soft moans leave you, the sound waves bouncing off Vi’s raised arm hairs. “keep going baby. I want you to understand how beautiful your body is.”

Vi knows exactly what you need and how you need it. she knows every single detail with how your mind works and how you show her that what she’s doing feels good. when words fail you, you turn to your own bodies help with expressing what’s happening inside you. as Vi pushes her fingers faster in and out, you start to get that non verbal, sickening feeling of pleasure begin to build up. “Vi…“ you attempt to tell her to keep going and to not stop, but your skin is hot and sweaty, your breathing so quick you’re light headed so that not much comes out in full sentences. you aren’t too worried about not saying anything because Vi has done this so many times that she knows exactly what do and what you mean when your words get caught in your dry throat. for instance, right this second you’re having a hard time telling her to not stop so your hands start to trail up her back, at first they’re light strokes but Vi has started making circles on your clit that put you in an immediate catatonia state. as you feel your core tighten, your stomach suck in to attempt to feel every stroke of your walls she leaves, your nails start to dig in deeper to her skin. Vi’s eyes dart up to your tired face, and she flinches at how your dull nails could be so sharp. “fuck baby. I know.” she immediately understands and goes faster, your legs opening as wide as they can, your hips starting to ache at the way they spread for her.

Vi has a sweet tooth, and you being her one and only cupcake means that the amount of love bites you get when she’s 6 feet deep in your guts is nothing new. she’s been thrusting herself onto you, your cunts fitting together like puzzle pieces. her favorite way to hold you, is having you laid down with your left leg to the side as she holds your other over her shoulder. you can feel her body start to twitch at the way your clit hits the most perfect nerves of hers. she thrusts harder, the sound of both of your wet cunts echoing into your ringing ears. her grip on your leg tightens, and her breathing is fast. she begins to turn beat red the moment she feels herself begin to tighten around nothing. you simultaneously begin to breathe faster attempting to match her. you start pushing your hips up into hers making sure you finish with her. you’re so close but just not there yet. Vi’s about to let loose of her pushed down orgasm, but when she sees you quite aren’t there yet, she pulls her head down and starts to bite the meaty part of your calf leaving two red bite marks, her vampirish canines being most noticeable in your flesh. you let out a yelp and your hips immediately buck up into her pelvis making Vi immediately gasp and cry out. her sounds only make your walls start to clench tighter before finally releasing all their tension. Vi chuckles because at the same time she begins to come on you, the wet sounds only becoming louder and messier. Once you both finish, your final moans beginning to soften, she kisses the bite marks, licks them, and then lowers your legs down, her free hand running across your lower stomach. you glide your hands up her arms, your hands clammy on her soft skin. Vi looks back down to you, kissing your chest and up your neck, “you really are sweet like a cupcake.”

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