#Angel X Matt

[ligmaballsbaby]

I did it again 😈😈😈

Angel slowly pulls away one of her eyebrows raised, and she tilted her head slightly confused

Angel:"is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?"

Matt:"take it how you want"

They just stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds, he could tell the gears were turning in her head

Angel:"you know what I'm not going to think about it...fuck you if it's a-"

Matt:"I will in a minute"

Angel:"-insult... And thanks if it's a compliment"

She said before they start making out again

.... He came four times at night... She came seven... She's easy... Have fun at work tomorrow you two lovebirds (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

[winnie1emon]

✧.* what happens after mattheo finds his sweet bsf moping after a bad date..?

bsf!mattheo x angel!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx 2.2k

cw: MDNI!!, smut, bsf!mattheo, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, finger sucking(?), lots of praise, mattheo is maybe kind of a perv idk lol, p link in the middle

a/n: sorry it took me a bajillion years to do this... sleep schedule is in the works :( + requests are open :3

Mattheo quickly flipped over the muggle Playboy magazine he had gotten his hands on the previous summer and fumbled with his zipper as he heard his dorm door swing open. Needn't to turn around as he recognized the familiar sound of your heels clicking across his floor as you kicked them off and slumped onto his bed, he clumsily shoved his small collection of magazines into his drawer.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "How was your date, he ugly?" He did not bother to turn around and face you, adamant about not showing you his flushed face.

Truth be told, your "date" was terrible. You had waited at the Three Broomsticks for hours, garnering pitying looks from Madam Rosmerta while you awkwardly stirred an on-the-house butterbeer, waiting for your blind date to arrive.

"Bad..." you managed to mutter, your voice trembling slightly. You had begun suffocating as your face was planted on one of his pillows, raising your head up for air and seeing the tear stains you left on the pillowcase.

Slightly surprised, he furrowed his brows, turning around his chair to get a full view of you, sulking, face-first on his bed. "Why? What happened?" he questioned.

"Didn't even show," you sniffled out, not looking up.

Concern washed over his face as he got up, readjusting his pants for the second time, before sitting gently beside you. He placed a palm on your shoulder, pushing slightly to get a view of you. You didn't resist, turning your body around, and giving him a clear look at you.

His heart ached at the sight of you; your dried-up tears, the red hue in your eyes, and the remnants of tears clinging onto your bottom lashes.

Mattheo brought his thumb to your face, swiping away at your cheek. "He didn't?" he asked softly. He meant to sound comforting and understanding, but his voice had a subtle tone of hope that you didn't catch over your small hiccup.

You shut your eyes, feeling new tears form as he pulled you up off your back, allowing you to sit against his headboard. Kicking off his slippers, he brought his feet onto the bed and sat beside you, placing your head on his shoulder with his arm slung over yours.

You both stayed in that position, silent, for a while. It wasn't uncomfortable, it was something familiar to make you feel better. Mattheo fidgeted with his sheets with his free arm and you felt most of the tears come to a stop. Lifting your head off his shoulder, you turned towards him.

"You're a guy right?" you asked.

"I'm pretty sure."

You stifled a small giggle before resuming your more solemn mood. "Do y'know why he wouldn't come?" you asked tentatively. Met with silence and his gaze set straight ahead, you prodded, "Like... think he saw me and left?"

"No. No way."

Mattheo had answered you quickly, even surprising you. You had expected a teasing yeah or a reluctant no from him, but he seemed dead serious. It wasn't like Mattheo was rude to you, merlin, you were probably the one person he was the nicest to, but he'd usually never pass up on an easy opportunity to make a joke.

Moving closer beside him, you peered curiously at his face, looking for any sign of sarcasm, but there wasn't any. "Really?"

The sight of your doubting eyes, the slight quiver in your lips, and the feel of your body pressed against his arm as you sat on his bed was all too much for Mattheo to handle. He wanted to scoop you up and mumble reassurances into your ears, but a part of him that he so desperately wanted to push away, wanted to fuck you senseless and show you how serious he really was.

Fuck. He knew it was wrong to feel this way when you sought comfort from him and nothing more, but he could hardly suppress his thoughts. Not when you stumbled into his room as he was about to relieve himself-- especially not in the strapless dress you wore for your date.

"Mm, yeah," he barely got out. "You're... beautiful."

You hummed appreciatively, feeling an unfamiliar blush creep up your face. Mattheo was your friend, and he had complimented you a few times before, but this was strangely... intimate. Grateful for him, you let your head sink past his shoulder and onto his chest and allowed one of your hands to play around with the material of his shirt, the soft cotton rubbing against your fingertips.

Tracing patterns on his shirt, his toned torso underneath; so close to your touch, you allowed yourself to be mesmerized while drawing swirls and stars on his shirt until you felt his body go taut and he cleared his throat.

"Oh-- sorry," you said sheepishly, retracting your hand. You sat back up, having your head properly rested against the headboard.

"No, don't be," Mattheo said. "I'm just, just a bit out of it right now," he told you, turning to face you.

"Yeah..." you noted. "You look a bit flush." You examined his face, his cheeks lightly dusted with a rosy hue and a very tiny bead of sweat on his forehead. You pushed yourself off the headboard, sitting straight up on the bed and your eyes wandered over him. "Are you," you began to ask in concern before your heart leaped into your throat from the sight of his very obvious boner. "...okay?" you finished, swallowing thickly.

"Don't even worry 'bout me," Mattheo shrugged off, oblivious to your wandering eyes. "Feeling better now?" he asked you, your tears from earlier no longer apparent.

Your brain still short circuiting from the sight of his boner, you paused before snapping back into reality.

"I-- uh, I don't know..." you said biting your lip. "I was really excited to go, but I guess he wasn't."

Mattheo searched for the words to say before you spoke again.

"Maybe I got the date wrong. Oo, oh! Maybe the place wrong?" you tried to convince yourself. "Merlin, who am I kidding? He saw me and decided not to show," you groaned. "I knew I shouldn't have worn this dress, I was kind of doubting buying it when I was at the store and-" you rambled before being cut off by a cool hand on your chin turning your head around.

"Hey- what are you doing?" you smiled sheepishly, caught off guard.

"Stop talking about yourself like that. You know it's not true."

You chortled, confusion etched onto your features, but nothing on his face resembled a joke.

"Stop joking, I'm actually sad," you finally drawled.

"M'not joking," he said. Before you could retort, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss.

Your mind clouded for a brief moment before you began to kiss him back.

For such a seemingly rough guy, his lips were soft and welcoming. You could go days without pulling away, your hands running up his back as he cupped your face. Kissing him felt natural, something that you didn't have to work very hard to do.

You let your body take over and kiss him without worry and he seemed to do the same as he slipped his tongue in, taking you by surprise.

Knowing he already crossed a line by kissing his best friend, Mattheo couldn't hold back the amount of arousal coursing through him at the moment. Without thinking, he allowed a hand to trail down from your face, feeling the lines of your waist until it found your thigh. Pushing the blue silk dress upwards, his hand rested on your ass.

Not protesting at all, you leaned closer, with his hands beginning to guide you onto his lap. You both sunk on the bed, having you straddle him. The cool air hit your bare skin as he brought your dress even upper, the dress folding inside out on your waist. His hands ran up and down your ass, stroking the lace of your underwear.

He slipped his hand underneath the material, feeling the skin of his palms on your unclothed ass, groping and grabbing blindly. You continued to kiss him, resting on top of him warmly until you felt his hand ghost over your bare folds causing you to pull away from the kiss and elicit a moan.

You looked at him curiously, parting your lips before he asked, "Can I?"

Before you could contemplate, your body was already deciding as you immediately nodded up and down. His fingers trailed lightly on the outside of your slick cunt and you could hear him murmur to himself but the sound was blocked out of your ears as your mind was clouded with thrill.

Burying your head beside his head and into his pillows, you let out a shrill whimper as you felt him insert one finger. Slowly, he pumped it in and out of your cunt, slowly increasing in speed.

Entering another finger, your whimpers grew into moans and he turned to look at your heated face.

"Fuck, you're cute."

Unable to respond, you attempted to give him a sheepish smile that sent him over the edge.

His fingers pumped in and out of you with uncontrollable fervor, your fluids coating his fingers as you leaked out. You writhed around on top of him, small squeals escaping your lips as you felt your orgasm near.

"M-Matt..." you mewled. "I'm gonna-"

"Shh, shh," he said, bringing his free hand to caress your head. "You can come. Come on my fingers for me." He buried his fingers deep inside, curling them slightly as he found your g-spot.

No longer able to contain yourself, you let your orgasm happen, your cunt tightening over his fingers. Panting, your body went limp which gave him time to flip you over so you were below him.

Watching the look you sported as your orgasm washed over you, the way you were beneath him, and how your lips were swollen from your previous make out, Mattheo could've sworn he was going to come right in his pants.

Wasting no time, he pulled down his pants, boxers following, allowing his cock to spring out, the tip already leaky with precum.

Pulling down your soaked underwear, he positioned himself between your legs. He pushed in slowly, each agonizing second torturing you as you desperately wanted him.

He rocked his hips and you had expected him to go slowly like he did with his fingers, but he quickly set a pace, hardly waiting for you to adjust.

The world felt unreal to you, having your best friend's cock inside of you when just moments before you were moping about some mystery guy...

Mattheo tugged down the top of your dress, the lack of straps allowing your tits to pool out. Fondling greedily, he couldn't even contain himself.

"Can't believe he lost this before even getting it," he groaned under his breath. "Fucking clown."

Unable to get a word out through your whimpers and mewls, all you could do was blush bashfully at his words.

He brought his hand to cup your jaw, slipping his thumb into your mouth. Teasing, he pulled his thumb to the edge of your mouth, contorting your lips as he laughed to himself. "You look adorable."

He continued to tease, finding the faces you made amusing as he continued to use his cock to kiss your cervix. You were about to unravel again, your cunt gripping onto his cock as your cries grew louder, your hands scratching his arms. "Gonna come?" he asked. You nodded quickly, a sign for him to slow down.

"Are you?" you asked tentatively.

"Not yet. Wanna savor my time with my favorite girl," he cooed, leaning into your ear.

Your surprise couldn't last long as you came for a second time, your face scrunching up. You breathed heavily, still allowing your body to process while Mattheo took the time to pull out and turn you around, your knees sinking on the bed.

Mattheo wanted to frame that moment right there and then. Capturing the sight of you; back arched down, ass up in the air practically inviting him inside your glossy cunt, face buried into the sheets.

"I hope you're forgetting about that guy. I would throw myself off the Astronomy Tower if I skimped out on a date only to find out it was with you."

Entering once more, he threw his head back before letting out moans of his own. Unlike during missionary, he went in patiently, admiring the view of his cock sliding in and out of your folds.

"I'm going to come just looking at you like this, I swear. Want me to? Want me to come inside?"

"Y-yes!" you managed to sputter out. "Please..."

"The day I say no to you; just know I'm under the imperius curse." And with that, he came, spurting thick ropes of cum inside to coat your walls. "Shit..."

He pulled out, leaning down to watch the remnants of his arousal seep out of you. He pulled you upwards to sit on your knees on his bed before hugging you by the head, caressing you with his hands roving your body.

"Bet you're glad he didn't show now, huh?" he joked gloatingly.

"Yeah."

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

[girlyrafe]

christmas pyjamas.ᐟ

ʚɞ a december to remember

𖢔 notes: this is so short but I just couldn’t think of what to write, sorry and I don’t like it at all + not proof read

── .✦ advent .ᐟ

summary: basically you make (by just being you) Rafe wear matching christmas pyjamas

ᯓᡣ𐭩

You grinned as you handed him the soft, cosy Christmas pyjamas, your eyes sparkling with excitement. The fabric was so fluffy, and you had picked them out with such care.

 

They're festive with little reindeer and snowflakes, the perfect touch for the season.

 

Rafe looked at the set, then back at her, his heart melting. His smile grows, and despite his usual resistance to wearing matching holiday outfits, he can’t bring himself to say no to you. He couldn't say no to your sweet smile and the warmth in her voice as she gently teased him.

 

"Come on," you urged, "just for me?" Your charm, warmth, and the way you’re looking at him, all bundled up in love and holiday spirit, make it impossible And with that, he surrendered, the softness of her touch and the joy in her eyes making it impossible to refuse.

 

He doesn’t know when he turned so soft—he does, but won’t acknowledge it’s when he saw you for the first time.

 

So with that, before he could let his brain catch up and stop being alluded into whatever you wanted, he was sat back on the soft as you crawled into his lap with some loose red pyjama pants that have reindeers scattered about and snowflakes dancing in between and a tight white shirt on top.

 

“Still think these are stupid, sweetheart.” So he’s trying to defend himself when he looked this cute? —“Uh-huh?” Your lips pull into a small smile. “But they’re so comfy, and they look cute.” He rolls his eyes, pretending to hate this “cute." No, it's all on you, Angel.”

 

As you gave him a soft—and cheeky—kiss, Rafe’s smile grew.

 

He let his eyes flutter close at the feel of your lips on his, enjoying the brief but sweet moment. His hand on the small of your back held on just a bit tighter, bringing your body closer to his.

 

When you pulled away, he slowly opened his eyes again, his hand running idly on your bare back.

 

©GIRLYRAFE

[darksturnz]

† A SINNERS EMBRACE — matthew sturniolo x angel!reader.

SYNOPSIS: Desperate for forgiveness, she stepped into the confession booth, unaware that the very man who was the subject of her dream was on the other side, his ears listening to her confession while his hand was wrapped around his throbbing cock. CONTENTS: heavy religious imagery・semi public masturbation (male!)・perv!matthew・fem!reader・corruption・not proofread WC: 5k

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of St. Mary's Cathedral, casting colorful patterns across the polished wooden pews. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the soft murmurs of the congregation as they awaited the start of mass.

In the sacristy, Father Matthew Sturniolo stood before the mirror, adjusting his crisp black cassock. His piercing blue eyes met his reflection, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He ran a hand through his neatly styled curly brown hair, ensuring not a strand was out of place. Satisfied with his appearance, he stepped out into the nave.

As Father Matthew made his way to the altar, his gaze swept over the gathered faithful. His eyes lingered on a young woman seated near the front, her delicate features framed by soft curls held back with a ribbon. She seemed to radiate an innocent purity that drew his attention like a moth to a flame.

He began the service, his rich baritone voice filling the cathedral. His words were honey-sweet, weaving a spell of devotion over the congregation. Yet beneath the pious facade, dark desires stirred within him, hidden from all but himself.

As the mass concluded, Father Matthew descended from the altar, ready to greet his flock. His smile was warm and welcoming, yet his eyes held a calculating gleam as they once again found the young woman. He approached her slowly, his presence seeming to fill the space between them. "Good morning," Father Matthew said softly, his voice like velvet. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Father Matthew, the newest member of our little community here."

He extended his hand, palm up in invitation. "And you are?"

The young woman looked up at him, her wide eyes shining with innocent curiosity. "Y-yes, Father. I'm Y/N, sir. It's nice to meet you." Her small hand rested lightly in his, her skin soft and warm against his own.

Father Matthew smiled, his thumb brushing ever so slightly across her knuckles. "The pleasure is all mine, Y/N. I look forward to getting to know you better."

With a final squeeze of her hand, he released her and turned to greet the other parishioners, leaving Y/N flushed and flustered in his wake. One Sunday afternoon, after the congregation had dispersed and the cathedral lay quiet, Father Matthew sought out Y/N in the empty nave. He found her kneeling before a pew, head bowed in prayer. Approaching softly, he cleared his throat to announce his presence.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, Y/N," he said gently, "but I couldn't help noticing how deeply you seem to connect with the Lord during services. Your devotion is truly inspiring and I’m sure your parents are very proud."

Y/N looked up, startled, then smiled shyly. "Oh, thank you, Father. I try my best to please them."

Father Matthew nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "Your dedication is admirable, indeed. As your spiritual leader, I feel it's my duty to nurture that spark within you. Perhaps we could arrange some...private Bible studies?"

Y/N's brow furrowed in confusion. "Private studies, Father? But wouldn't that be improper?"

A hint of amusement danced in Father Matthew's eyes. "Not at all, dear. In fact, one-on-one instruction allows us to delve deeper into the scriptures together. I assure you, it's a common practice among clergy and their devout followers."

He reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Think of it as an opportunity to grow closer to God under my guidance. What do you say, Y/N? Would you be willing to meet with me regularly, just the two of us, to explore the Word?"

As Father Matthew's hand settled upon Y/N's shoulder, a shiver ran down her spine. The gentle pressure sent tingles through her slender frame, making her acutely aware of his proximity. His touch was warm, reassuring, and yet...different. There was a subtle intimacy to it that left her breathless and disoriented.

Y/N's cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she struggled to find her voice. "I-I mean...if it's really necessary, Father..." she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between his face and the floor. "But won't people talk if we're alone together?"

Father Matthew's fingers squeezed her shoulder lightly, a silent reassurance. "Let them talk, child. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and sometimes that means challenging societal norms for the greater good,"

"Besides," Father Matthew continued, his voice low and soothing, "our meetings will take place in a secluded area of the rectory. No one will ever need to know."

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind reeling with the implications. A private setting with Father Matthew, away from prying eyes...it felt both thrilling and terrifying. She bit her lip, torn between her desire to please him and her instinctive fear of doing something wrong.

"I...I suppose it would be a good opportunity to learn more about God's word," she ventured finally, trying to sound convincing despite her racing heart. "When did you have in mind for our first session, Father?"

Father Matthew's smile broadened, revealing a glint of approval in his eyes. "How about tomorrow evening, after dinner? I'll make sure to leave a light on for you at the door."

With a nod, Y/N agreed to the clandestine meeting, her heart pounding in her chest. She spent the remainder of the day in a daze, her thoughts consumed by the prospect of being alone with Father Matthew.

As night fell the next day, Y/N found herself standing before the rectory, a mix of trepidation and anticipation coursing through her veins. She knocked softly on the door, her knuckles trembling slightly.

After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit hallway. Father Matthew stood in the shadows, his figure imposing yet inviting. "Welcome, Y/N," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Please, come in."

She entered hesitantly, her eyes adjusting to the faint glow of candles scattered throughout the room. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and leather-bound books.

Father Matthew guided Y/N to a plush armchair positioned near a large, ornate desk. "Make yourself comfortable," he instructed, gesturing to the chair. "We have much to discuss tonight."

As she sat down, Y/N noticed a Bible lying open on the desk, its pages marked with a silver bookmark. Her gaze lingered on the ancient text, feeling a sense of reverence wash over her.

Father Matthew settled into a nearby chair, leaning back with an air of relaxed confidence. "Before we begin our study, I'd like to share a personal anecdote," he said, his tone taking on a contemplative quality. "Growing up, I often felt disconnected from the divine. It wasn't until I dedicated myself fully to serving the Lord that I truly started to understand His plan for me."

He fixed Y/N with a piercing stare, his words dripping with conviction.

"I believe that same calling exists within you, Y/N. Tonight, I hope to help you recognize and embrace it."

With those enigmatic words, Father Matthew reached across the desk, his fingers brushing against Y/N's as he handed her the Bible. Their touch sent another jolt of electricity through her, leaving her breathless.

As she opened the book, the weight of the sacred text seemed to press against her palms. Y/N felt a strange connection to the pages, as if they held secrets meant only for her ears.

Father Matthew leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Let's start with a passage that resonates with me," he suggested, pointing to a verse marked in the book. "Psalm 23, verses 3-4. 'He restores my soul; He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake."

Y/N's eyes widened as she read the familiar words, a sense of peace washing over her. She recited the verses aloud, her voice soft and reverent. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me..."

As she spoke, Father Matthew's gaze never wavered from hers, his eyes burning with an intensity that made her skin prickle. When she finished, he nodded approvingly. "Beautifully said, Y/N. Those words offer solace even in the darkest of times."

He paused, studying her face intently. "Tell me, when you pray, what do you usually focus on? Is it asking for blessings, seeking forgiveness, or perhaps longing for a deeper connection with the divine?"

Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unsure how to articulate her feelings. "I guess..."

"...I mostly pray for protection and guidance. For my family's well-being and for not doing anything wrong," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Father Matthew's expression softened, and he reached out to place a comforting hand on her knee. "Those are noble prayers, but remember, the Lord wants a relationship built on trust and openness. Don't be afraid to express your desires and fears to Him."

His touch lingered, sending warmth spreading through Y/N's legs. She found herself leaning into his palm, craving more of that comforting contact.

"Perhaps we can work on expanding your prayer life together," Father Matthew suggested, his voice low and persuasive. "Start by sharing your deepest concerns with me. I'm here to listen and guide you, Y/N."

Y/N took a shaky breath, her heart racing as she considered Father Matthew's offer. The idea of unburdening her innermost thoughts to someone - anyone - felt daunting, yet there was a part of her that yearned for this kind of intimate connection.

"I...I worry about pleasing God," she confessed, her voice trembling. "About not living up to His expectations. Sometimes I feel so small and insignificant compared to His greatness."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she met Father Matthew's gaze. "And then there's the fear of sinning...of doing something terrible and irreparable. It keeps me up at night, wondering if I'm worthy of His love."

Her confession hung in the air, heavy with vulnerability. Y/N waited with bated breath for Father Matthew's reaction, her entire being attuned to his response.

Father Matthew's expression turned solemn, his eyes filled with compassion. "Sin is a heavy burden to carry, Y/N," he acknowledged, his voice a gentle murmur. "But know this: you were born innocent, and it's never too late to seek forgiveness and redemption."

He squeezed her knee reassuringly. "The Lord loves you unconditionally, just as you are. Your worth comes from being His child, not from achieving some lofty standard of perfection."

Leaning forward, Father Matthew rested his forearms on his thighs, bringing their faces closer together. "In fact, it's precisely your humility and willingness to acknowledge your flaws that make your faith all the more genuine and beautiful."

His words washed over Y/N like a soothing balm, easing some of the tension in her shoulders. She found herself drawn to his presence, craving the comfort and understanding only he could provide. As Father Matthew's proximity intensified, Y/N's breathing grew shallow. The scent of his cologne mingled with the musty aroma of the old books, creating a heady mixture that clouded her senses.

His warm breath tickled her ear as he whispered, "Remember, Y/N, true strength lies in vulnerability. By sharing your fears and doubts, you're taking the first step towards a deeper, more meaningful relationship with God – and with me."

One of Father Matthew's hands slid from her knee to gently cradle her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin in a tender caress. Y/N's eyelids fluttered closed, savoring the sensation of his touch.

In that moment, she felt an overwhelming urge to surrender completely to him – to let go of her inhibitions and simply exist in the safety of his presence. Father Matthew's lips hovered mere inches from Y/N's, the anticipation almost palpable. Then, with deliberate slowness, he inclined his head, allowing their noses to brush together in a fleeting, electric contact. The briefest of sighs escaped Y/N's lips as she savored the closeness, her eyes drifting shut. But before she could process the intensity of the moment, Father Matthew pulled back, breaking the spell.

Opening her eyes, Y/N found him smiling at her with an unreadable mix of tenderness and restraint. "Until next Sunday, Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "May the Lord bless and keep you in the interim."

Rising from his seat, Father Matthew offered her his arm, guiding her towards the door with a gentle pressure. As they walked side by side, Y/N couldn't shake the lingering effects of their intimate encounter. Every step felt weighted, each breath charged with a newfound awareness of Father Matthew's presence beside her.

At the entrance, he paused, turning to face her. In the dim light filtering through the stained glass windows, his features appeared almost ethereal, as if carved from shadows and moonlight.

"Farewell for now, Y/N," Father Matthew said softly, his gaze holding hers captive. "May your dreams be peaceful and your heart remain open to the mysteries of the spirit."

With that, he cupped her cheek once more, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip before releasing her. Then, with a final, enigmatic smile, he stepped back and watched as she disappeared into the night, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the stillness.

As Y/N retreated to the sanctuary of her bedroom, the events of the evening swirled through her mind like a tempestuous sea. Father Matthew's touch, his whispers, the weight of his gaze – each detail replayed itself in vivid Technicolor, refusing to be relegated to the realm of memory.

She slipped beneath the covers, her body thrumming with a restless energy. Try as she might, sleep eluded her, replaced instead by a kaleidoscope of forbidden fantasies.

In the darkness, Y/N's imagination ran wild, conjuring scenarios where Father Matthew's hands roamed her body with increasing boldness. She pictured his fingers trailing along her collarbone, dipping into the neckline of her nightgown to tease the sensitive skin beneath.

As the illicit visions intensified, a telltale dampness began to gather between Y/N's thighs.

Exhaustion finally claimed Y/N, her eyelids growing heavy as the fantasy montage continued to unfold behind her closed lids. With a soft sigh, she surrendered to the embrace of slumber, her dreams already tainted by the forbidden allure of Father Matthew.

In the depths of her subconscious, the scenario shifted, becoming more explicit and sensual with each passing moment. Y/N found herself lying on the cold stone floor of the rectory, her nightgown pushed up around her waist as Father Matthew loomed over her, his dark robes pooling around his knees.

His hands, once so reverent, now explored her body with a hunger that made her shiver. Fingers danced across her breasts, teasing the hardened nipples until pleasure-pain shot straight to her core. A whimper escaped her lips, muffled by the priest's mouth as he captured them in a searing kiss.

As the dream intensified, Y/N's hips bucked involuntarily, seeking friction against the damp heat building between her legs. Her hands reached down to press against Father Matthew's, urging him closer, wanting more of his touch.

Moans and gasps punctuated the erotic haze, the sounds muffled by the priest's insistent kisses. He Trailered his mouth down her neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin until Y/N arched off the ground, crying out in ecstasy.

In the throes of her climax, Y/N's vision blurred, colors bleeding together as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. She clung to Father Matthew, her nails digging into his arms as she rode out the intense sensations, lost to everything but the bliss consuming her.

Y/N jolted awake, her chest heaving as if she'd run a marathon. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her nightgown clung to her skin, dampened by the remnants of her climax. For a moment, disoriented and panting, she struggled to anchor herself in reality.

As the fog of sleep lifted, memories of the dream came rushing back, leaving a trail of shame and confusion in its wake. Y/N's cheeks flushed hot, and she buried her face in her pillow, mortified by the intensity of her own desires.

What had possessed her to imagine such things? Father Matthew, the man she trusted above all others, reduced to a participant in her most private, debased fantasies. The thought alone made her stomach churn with self-loathing.

Throughout the day, Y/N moved through her routine with mechanical precision, her mind consumed by the guilt gnawing at her soul. Every time her parents glanced her way, concern etched onto their faces, she couldn't help but wonder if they sensed the turmoil brewing inside her.

The telltale flush on her cheeks seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a constant reminder of the shameful secret she harbored. Each time she caught her reflection in a window or mirror, she flinched, as if the image staring back might hold some hidden clue to her innermost thoughts.

By mid-afternoon, the weight of her confession became unbearable. Y/N excused herself from the kitchen, where her mother was preparing dinner, claiming she needed fresh air. As soon as she stepped outside, however, she found herself drawn inexorably toward the familiar solace of the church.

The imposing stone structure loomed before her, its towering spires reaching toward the heavens like outstretched arms. Y/N hesitated briefly, her hand trembling as she grasped the ornate bronze handle of the massive wooden doors.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pushed the doors open, the creak of the hinges echoing through the empty nave. The interior was bathed in a warm, golden light, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors.

Y/N wandered deeper into the church, her footsteps echoing softly off the walls. Eventually, she found herself standing before the confessional, its wooden screen adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes of redemption and forgiveness.

With a sense of trepidation mixed with relief, she knelt before the grated opening, her voice barely audible as she whispered, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned..."

Inside the confessional, Father Matthew listened intently as Y/N's hesitant voice filtered through the grate, her words painting a picture of guilt and contrition. His heart raced at the realization that the penitent before him was none other than the innocent, sheltered girl he had grown to care for.

Concealing his true identity, Father Matthew adopted a neutral, soothing tone, meant to provide comfort without revealing his knowledge of her personal life. "My child, please, share your sins with me, and know that you shall receive absolution."

Y/N took a shaky breath before continuing, her voice trembling slightly. "Father, I...I had a dream last night. A wicked dream. I imagined doing sinful things with someone I trust deeply, someone who should never be the subject of such thoughts." She paused, biting her lip.

"It was Father Matthew," Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "In my dream, he touched me in ways no one ever has, and I felt things I shouldn't have felt. Desire, longing...even pleasure when we did things that are wrong."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she confessed, "When I woke up, I was...I was soaked. It was as if my body betrayed me, responding to those forbidden imaginings. I'm ashamed, Father. So terribly ashamed."

Y/N waited with bated breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she awaited the priest's response, unsure whether he would offer condemnation or understanding.

Inside the confessional, Father Matthew's composure faltered at Y/N's explicit admission. The mere mention of her dream, coupled with the intimate details, sent a surge of arousal coursing through his veins. His cock twitched to life, straining against the confines of his black cassock.

Swallowing hard, he fought to maintain his calm, professional demeanor. "Tell me more, my child," he urged, his voice low and husky despite his best efforts. "Describe this dream in greater detail. What exactly transpired between you and Father Matthew?"

As Y/N began to recount the specifics – the sensation of his hands on her body, the taste of his kisses, the feeling of being taken against the cold stone floor – Father Matthew's erection grew even harder, throbbing with an almost painful intensity.

"Did he touch you intimately?" Father Matthew pressed, his curiosity piqued and his desire escalating with each word from Y/N's lips. "Was there any...physical contact beyond kissing and caressing?"

His fingers tightened around the edge of the confessional booth, imagining the tender flesh beneath Y/N's garments, the softness of her breasts, the warmth of her cunt. The mental images were almost too much to bear, stoking the flames of his lust to a near-blazing inferno.

"Please, continue," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "Every detail is important for your spiritual guidance, my child."

Father Matthew could no longer resist the temptation. With one hand, he unzipped his fly, freeing his throbbing cock from its fabric prison. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft, giving it a firm squeeze as he continued to listen intently to Y/N's detailed account of her dream.

As she described the feeling of Father Matthew's cock sliding into her virgin depths, stretching her tight walls, he began to stroke himself in earnest. Slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, he pumped his fist along his length, imagining it was Y/N's slick cunt enveloping him instead.

"Mmmm," he groaned under his breath, the sound muffled behind the wooden screen. His hips rocked in tandem with his hand, thrusting upward as if seeking to bury himself deeper into an imaginary pussy.

Y/N's blush deepened as she recounted the lewd acts from her dream, her voice quivering with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "He...he kissed me everywhere, Father. My neck, my breasts, even between my thighs. And then..."

She paused, her breath catching in her throat as she relived the sensations. "Then, he entered me. It hurt at first, but soon it felt so good. Like nothing l've ever experienced before. I wanted more, even though I knew it was wrong."

Y/N's confession hung heavy in the air, the vivid descriptions painting a scandalous picture in Father Matthew's mind. His cock throbbed painfully, straining against the fabric of his clerical robes. He could hardly believe the depraved thoughts now racing through his head.

Father Matthew's composure slipped further with each salacious detail Y/N revealed. His breathing grew ragged, punctuated by stifled groans as he continued to stroke his aching cock. The once sacred space of the confessional now reeked of sin and debauchery, the air thick with the musk of his arousal.

"Go on," he urged, his voice strained and unsteady. Gone was the calm, reassuring tone of a spiritual guide; in its place was the desperate plea of a man teetering on the brink of self-control. "Tell me everything. Don't leave out a single detail."

Y/N's innocence, her purity, only served to fuel the fire burning within him. He imagined defiling her, corrupting her, molding her into his perfect little slut.

Father Matthew's mind raced with perverse fantasies, each one more depraved than the last. In his twisted imagination, he saw himself bending Y/N over the altar, tearing away her flimsy dress to reveal her nubile body. He pictured her on her knees before him, those innocent eyes wide with shock as she took his cock into her mouth, gagging on his length.

The thought of claiming her virginity, of being the first and only man to plunge into her untouched depths, drove him wild with lust. He stroked faster, harder, chasing the release that seemed just out of reach.

Father Matthew's resolve crumbled like a house of cards, the soft sniffles emanating from Y/N proving to be his undoing. The sound of her guilt, her shame, only served to heighten his own dark desires, pushing him over the precipice of restraint.

With a strangled cry, he erupted, his seed spilling forth in hot, pulsing spurts. Ropes of cum painted the inside of the confessional, splattering against the wood in obscene patterns. His hips jerked erratically as he rode out the waves of his climax, each twitch sending another burst of semen from his spasming cock.

As the haze of orgasm slowly dissipated, Father Matthew slumped back in his seat, his chest heaving with exertion. He quickly tucked his spent member back into his cassock, zipping up his fly with shaking hands.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Father Matthew tried to compose himself, to slip back into the role of the compassionate priest. "My child," he began, his voice still slightly rougher than usual, "you mustn't blame yourself for these dreams. They are merely manifestations of your natural, God-given desires, warped by the influence of the world outside our holy sanctuary."

He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "What matters most is that you recognize the sinfulness of such thoughts and actions. Repentance is key, and you've already shown great courage in confessing these impure urges."

Father Matthew's mind raced, torn between his vows and his growing obsession with Y/N. He knew he should steer her towards prayer, fasting, and increased devotion to ward off these temptations.

Father Matthew's heart raced, his pulse pounding in his ears as he grappled with the conflicting emotions swirling within him. The urge to lead Y/N astray, to encourage her down a path of sin and debauchery, warred with his duty to guide her towards righteousness.

In the end, his own twisted desires won out. Leaning closer to the screen separating them, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Listen closely, my child. While these feelings may seem unnatural, even sinful, I assure you that they are perfectly normal for a young woman of your age and disposition."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "God created us with these desires, these needs. To deny them entirely would be to go against His divine plan."

Father Matthew's voice dropped to a husky murmur, his words dripping with barely restrained lust. "If you were to act upon these urges, to explore the pleasures of the flesh with a willing partner, I don't believe the Lord would hold it against you. After all, He gave us these bodies to enjoy, to revel in their sensations."

He shifted in his seat, his spent cock already beginning to stir again at the thought of guiding Y/N into the world of carnal delights. "Should you ever find yourself tempted to cross that line, know that Father Matthew is there to offer his support, his...guidance. Together, you can navigate this treacherous terrain, ensuring that your journey remains safe and fulfilling."

Father Matthew's mind raced with possibilities, visions of stolen moments and illicit encounters dancing behind his eyes.

Father Matthew's mind raced with possibilities, visions of stolen moments and illicit encounters dancing behind his eyes. He imagined taking Y/N's hand, leading her away from the confessional and into a secluded corner of the church. There, in the dim light filtering through the stained glass windows, he would show her the true meaning of pleasure.

His fingers twitched with the urge to touch her, to explore every inch of her nubile form. He pictured her gasping beneath him, her body writhing in ecstasy as he claimed her innocence, molding her into his perfect little plaything.

Y/N's eyes widened in shock at the brazen words, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of crimson. She squirmed uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, her thighs pressing together as a strange warmth blossomed between her legs.

"I...I don't understand, Father," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and budding desire. "Isn't giving in to such thoughts and urges considered a grave sin? Won't God punish me for entertaining such wicked notions?"

Despite her words, Y/N couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through her at the idea of exploring these forbidden desires. The taboo nature of it all sent a shiver down her spine, awakening something primal and hungry within her.

Father Matthew leaned closer, his breath ghosting across the screen separating them. "Oh, but that's where you're mistaken, my dear. God understands our human nature, our need for connection and intimacy. He doesn't expect us to live as celibate monks, denying ourselves the joys of the flesh."

His voice dropped to a seductive purr, each word dripping with sinful promise. "No, He wants us to embrace these desires, to revel in them with a loving partner. And who better to guide you on this journey than your humble priest?"

Father Matthew's mind raced with wicked thoughts, imagining all the ways he could corrupt Y/N.

With a trembling voice, Y/N thanked the mysterious priest for his guidance and understanding. "Thank you, Father, for hearing my confession and offering such wise counsel. Your words have brought me comfort and clarity."

She rose from the bench, smoothing her skirt with nervous hands. As she made her way out of the confessional, Y/N's mind buzzed with a whirlwind of emotions - confusion, curiosity, and a simmering undercurrent of excitement.

On the walk home, Y/N found herself replaying the priest's words in her head, trying to reconcile them with everything she'd been taught about the evils of lust and temptation. Yet, despite her best efforts, she couldn't shake the image of the handsome priest who haunted her dreams.

Father Matthew remained seated in the confessional long after Y/N had departed, his mind reeling from their encounter. The scent of her lingering perfume filled his nostrils, mingling with the musk of his own arousal.

He palmed his hardening cock through his cassock, biting back a groan as he recalled the way her voice had quivered with a mix of innocence and burgeoning desire. The thought of corrupting her, of guiding her down a path of sin and depravity, consumed his every waking thought.

Rising from his seat, Father Matthew emerged from the confessional, his gaze drawn to the spot where Y/N had stood mere moments ago. A wicked smile played across his lips as he plotted his next move, determined to make the innocent girl his own personal plaything.

DISCLAIMER: this is an original storyline written by me and only me. @/muwapsturniolo has written a series using the priest!matthew au which you can find here but my story is NOT inspired by hers nor a copy.

AUTHORS NOTE: first chapter >.<!! i rewrote this one a good four times and ultimately cut the wc from 16k to 5k... she’s a bit rushed but i’d like to get the boring details out of the way.

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch

[cheriematt]

DADDY IS LOOKING GOOD IN THIS PHOTO DUMP

[fallbhind]

☆ matt making you oh so happy by getting you sonny angels.

matt didn't understand why you were obessed with collecting the small naked baby dolls, but it made you happy. so like any great boyfriend, he naturally picked up some.

when he arrived home, he sat the bags down onto the counter, immediately hearing your feet scramble off the couch, running to him. "missed you to babe." he let out a soft 'oopf' sound when your body collided into his, holding him in a tight hug.

"i missed you more." you mumbled into his arms, just happy he was back from the store. "but why'd it take you so long?" you said with a whiny like-demanding tone.

he let out a soft sigh, pulling out the two weirdly shaped box's that contained sonny angels. you let out a squeal, "matt!" you eyes shimmered with happiness, like a kid on christmas. you dragged matt over to the couch, with the two boxes in your hands. you sat down, opening up the first box.

you pulled it out, the first one being a blue sonny angel, surprisingly it had clothes, or at least a shirt. same with the second one, but an orange cat. giddingly, you pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. "thank you so much."

"mhm, your welcome baby." he said into your neck softly, pressing a gentle kiss against your jaw.

[hawklovesskippy]

Matt’s photoshoot for the Los Angeles Times | Released August 22, 2024

[smallsinger5901]

im picturing Matt finding the manuscript for LABB and walking around their place reading it aloud while Mello furiously tries to stop him

[space-matt]

Against time

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: many moments, laughter and 'I love you,' but is time on their side?

request: no

author’s note: hello there! I got the inspiration while listening to the song mentioned in the story, I hope you can appreciate it :)

tell me what you think!♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

The city of Los Angeles sprawled out before us, its lights shimmering like a sea of stars dancing on the rain-soaked streets, casting an otherworldly glow.

It was Friday night, and the traffic moved at a snail's pace as I gazed out the window, enveloped in my own thoughts.

Chris was at the wheel, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, his expression grave. Despite his serious demeanor, I could sense the underlying concern in his eyes. We had been inseparable over the past year, but something had changed in recent months.

The easy laughter had disappeared, our late-night phone calls had dwindled, and the deep, meaningful conversations under the starlit sky seemed like a distant memory. Now, everything felt uncertain.

The tender melody of "Time is Not On Our Side" by The Vamps filled the room, its bittersweet notes weaving through the air.

As the lyrics washed over me, a profound sense of melancholy settled in my chest. It felt as though the song was speaking directly to the fleeting nature of my relationship with Chris.

Time was slipping through our fingers, and I couldn't shake the feeling of irretrievable loss.

"Chris," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. He tore his gaze from the road, his expression etched with concern as he looked at me.

"What's the matter?" he inquired, his voice gently carrying a hint of weariness.

I hesitated, the weight of my unspoken thoughts pressing down on me. After a moment, I mustered the courage to voice the question that had been haunting me for weeks. "Do you ever get the sense that we're running out of time?"

Chris gazed at you, his expression heavy with emotion. "Yeah" he murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. "I feel it every single day."

His words landed like a blow, confirming that the feeling wasn't just in your mind. He was experiencing it too.

"I always imagined we'd have more time" Chris confessed, his voice steady but weighted with feeling.

"More time to savor life, to discover new things, to navigate our path. But time keeps slipping away from us."

His words resonated deeply, echoing the truth you both struggled to confront. The whirlwind of obligations and responsibilities had taken its toll, gradually driving a wedge between you, even when you were physically together.

"Remember our time in Boston?" Chris interjected, breaking the heavy silence that enveloped you. "It was winter, bitterly cold outside. We cocooned ourselves under the covers for hours, losing ourselves in movies as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist."

You nodded, a wistful smile dancing on your lips. It was a treasured memory, a time when everything seemed to align perfectly. Time stood still, and you were simply two souls in love, unencumbered by worries or doubts.

But now? It felt like a distant dream.

"I don't know what changed" Chris confessed, his voice quivering with emotion. "But I miss that time. I miss you."

His words pierced through your heart. You longed to express the same sentiment, to convey how much you missed him even when he was right there beside you.

Yet, the words seemed to choke in your throat. There was an ocean of unspoken feelings between the two of you, and time never seemed sufficient to confront them.

"I don't want to lose you" Chris interjected suddenly, his tone tinged with urgency. "I can't fathom my life without you, but..."

"But what?" you murmured, anxiety quickening your heartbeat.

"But time isn't on our side." He turned to meet your gaze, his eyes filled with anguish. "We're being pulled in different directions by so many things, and it seems that every time we attempt to mend things, something else drives us apart."

The myriad of emotions reflecting in his eyes left you feeling overwhelmed, as if the world was crumbling around you, and all your opportunities were slipping away with the passage of uncontrollable time.

"What do you want to do?" Chris questioned, his voice tinged with desperation.

You were at a loss for words. Undoubtedly, you loved him. However, love no longer seemed to be enough. The burden of time, the weight of expectations, and the harsh truth that life waits for no one all crowded your thoughts.

"I don't know" you finally confessed, the strain evident in your voice. "I don't want to lose you either, but it feels like we're helpless against all of this. Time... it's slipping through our fingers, and I don't know how to halt it."

Chris peered out of the window, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “There’s a part of me that just wants to escape from all of this, to abandon everything with you and leave the world behind. But I know we can’t do that.”

The notion of running away together and starting anew, leaving everything behind, had always lingered in the depths of your minds. However, both of you understood that it was merely a figment of imagination. Reality was far more intricate.

You let out a deep sigh and locked eyes with him. "Do you think there’s still a chance for us?"

Chris didn’t respond immediately. A prolonged silence enveloped the room, interrupted only by the gentle melody playing in the background.

Eventually, he turned to you, and in his eyes, there was a glimmer of something that had been absent for a while. "Yes" he murmured softly. "But we both have to desire it. We have to figure out a way to halt time—or at least not let it govern us."

Those words, despite their simplicity, ignited a faint glimmer of hope within you. Perhaps not all was lost. Maybe, if both of you truly exerted effort, you could salvage what you once had. Maybe you could still defy time, at least for the two of you.

"If we both believe in it, we can make it" you responded, clasping his hand.

Chris nodded, and even though you were aware that the path ahead would be arduous, in that moment, with your intertwined hands and the world outside continuing its motion, you sensed that, at least for now, time was finally on your side.

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

Taglist:  @xoxo4chrisss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @bernardsbendystraws @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @ivysturnss @sturniolosreads @mayhem-72 @dracoflaco @lyzsaphrodite @ifilwtmfc @c00ch13destroyer

[retailther4py]

My Love - Florence + The Machine // The Borgias (2011-2013) // The Lovers - Rene Magritte // The Borgias: Apocalypse // Anatomy of a Hug - Luna Lu // The Borgias S1 E1 // Western Nights - Ethel Cain // The Borgias (2011-2013) // The Kiss of Death - Edvard Munch // Twisted Tongue - Matt Maeson

[angelgalchicha]

Doomed by the plot lovers AU

[ligmaballsbaby]

(normal interaction with Angel and Derek)

Matt:"I think we better split up guys, Angel and I will-"

Derek:"oh hell nah!, you're just trying to fuck your slut again!"

Matt:"no I'm not!, Derek shut your flumpy ass up!"

Derek:"okay if we split up I'm going with her then!"

Angel:"No your musky ass is not!"

Derek:"oh, you can't throw anyone else on the team no puss!?, see that's that bullshit!"

Angel:"Bitch ain't nobody bout to throw you no puss while you are smelling like an NBA locker room during overtime in the six game!, you've been wearing that headband since you crawled out your mama's cooch!"

Derek:"Fuck you Angel!"

Angel:"You fucking wish!, you musky mushroom goblin Bitch!"

*Matt and Emily are just standing side by side by them watching them argue*

(I guess Angel has another thing in common with Matt)

[missmarveledsblog]

Angel night ( frank castle x reader )

Summary : Frank comes home to thinking his angel is in danger only to realise that she has had a nightmare . he makes sure to comfort his girl . this like part of what i will be calling the angel verse  of our beloved bad ass punisher and his equally bad ass sarcastic ball of sunshine that is y/n " angel" murdock . 

warnings : angsty fluffy fun , frank being a teddy bear ( i love making big bad ass men teddy bears) . i have a smutty version post soon . 

A year to the night of when he first met angel probably would of been laughable if someone told him he would fall head over heels in love with a murdock but yet now here he was coming home to their shared apartment.

Coming back to the place he once deemed just that the place he slept and lived in , was now a home . each part has some sort of reminder of the woman that brought sunshine and light into the dark hole he felt his life become. He never thought he could love again , find a second chance to be the happiest he's ever been and yet here he was smile on his face looking around his home  even if he was bloody and bruised after spending few days with said woman's annoying older brother . that smile soon faded , like he could clock something was wrong . his angel didn't come to greet him like she always did no matter what time of the night or day he got back  . a familiar chill ran down his back as he inspected the place nothing seemed to be touched it should of calmed his fears knowing if she was under some sort of threat she would leave evidence of such an event . yet when her screams hit his ear sent him into action mode straight through to the bedroom expecting to see the worst .

Gun drawn he looked around for the threat like it was second nature then he saw her face. That told him everything he needed to know , the pain on her face as she moved in the bed , the sweat on her forehead. She was having a nightmare and a bad one at that.

" angel" he called soft and gentle hoping the tone could change the course of her dreams which sometimes works or wake her from the hell she was trapped in . he went to move forward only for her to shoot up gasping and panting for air tired confused eyes trying to make sense of the environment before locking on him.

" fr-frank you're ok? Please say you're ok" she pleaded voice filled with heartbreak and fear . asking him instead of confirming it was just a nightmare. It broke his heart seeing her so sorrowful like she was still trying to distinguish reality and dream . He didn't speak partially because he was relieved she wasn't under some threat or worse . wordlessly he took off the tactical gear he was wearing before lifting her in his arms letting her heartbroken sobs soak into the shirt he was wearing . sitting her on their sofa and kiss to her head he went to the kitchen. Chuckling at the burnt pot soaking into the sink . He began making the hot chocolate one she enjoyed most during a bad times ,which this deemed to be one of those . Making his more irish , he carried the cups into the living room deal with the clean up in the morning right now it really wasn't important. Handing her the cup and placing his own on the coffee table noticing the shivers down her body , instantly sitting on the sofa and pulling her into his lap wrappin the comforter around her body .

" you're ok" she repeated like it was all she could say .

" i'm ok , i got you sweet girl" he kissed her head holding her a little tighter . Not a word spoken nor was he going to ask , he knew when she was ready she would. Taken her from the room to ground herself and let her just bare her senses . let her ground herself after the trauma her unconscious inflicted. It was bad he knew as much her nightmare never spilled out physically or made her scream that loud. Soft touches and kisses reminding her he was there keeping her safe from the unseen monsters. Waiting til she was ready if she ever was ready to talk about it either way he was there for her.

An hour of silence , an hour of just feeling him under her touch knowing he was actually there. At first it felt like a trick of her mind , the dream was so vivid that real life seemed as it was the dreamland . finally finding her voice she lifted her head eyes looking into his , scanning his face like it was another thing she need to do to definitely be sure .

" they got me , i don't know how but when my eyes opened i was in the dingey room , i could actually smell the damp and mould , it was so real i could feel the binds around my wrist" she said lip trembling as she rubbed the skin of her wrists only for him to take each hand and placing a kiss on the skin .

" they wanted me to work for them , comply to their evil requests and do their dirty work. I kept saying no i wasn't a monster like them , i tried using my powers and they wouldn't come all i kept thinking was you and matt as i pulled on the binds, then like they could read my mind " she paused willing herself not to break as he rubbed her hand letting her know she wasn't alone nor did she need to continue if it was too much one things she loved about him . frank never pressured her into anything, never control any aspect of her life something she never had before .

" they pulled .. they pulled you into the room , hog tied and gagged , bruised and bloody i begged them to let you go and they laughed" she sniffled . " they kept asking me to do it and i said no you said no and each time they hit you and each time it was hard, it was so real i could hear their fist hit your skin , your pained grunts and groans . i screamed for them to let you go when your eyes started getting heavy i agree i did whatever i could to make sure they would stop hurting you , i would do anything to keep you from harm" she cried only for his hand to come up and wipe the tears off her cheeks.

" they shot you and laughed when i screamed , crying begging you to wake up and then he turned and went to grab me by the throat i couldn't breathe . I woke up" she looked up into his eyes .

all he wanted to do was take that pain , all those fears from her. take all those negative feelings and make them positive . seeing the one he loves the most so scared ,  so pained never was something he wanted nor would he wish for.  all he wanted to see on her face was smiles although seeing her mad was a hot one though he made sure it never last so long . she was usually the one making everyone so happy and laughing and now it was her turn to be taking care of . 

He held her face in his hand kissing her cheeks , her forehead , nose before kissing her lips letting her know he was there and not planning on leaving at anytime soon .

"angel , my sweet girl i promise you with every fibre in my being those sick fucks will never get you , nor will they hurt you in any shape , we both know you are a powerhouse all on your own powers or not , but in saying that i will kill them all , i would burn this world to make sure it meant you were safe , you my sweet girl gave me a second chance at something i never knew could exist , one that has me looking forward to coming home , waking up in the morning i will let nothing get in the way of that" he kissed her lips again .

" what if you get killed running around with my brother" she sniffled.

" i alway will come home to you no matter what that brother of yours pulls me into i'll keep him safe too , i'm here , i'm breathing , see my heart its beating , it's beating stronger ever since your sassy little ass came into my life " he said softly holding her hand to his chest . " every part of me will make sure i come home to you because you are my everything and more , you gave me something i never thought i would have , something i thought i gave up on so long ago , something so forbidden it was impossible for me to even think of , you gave me a future , you repair a man so broken that others would of just cast away and deemed so unfixable . you gave me a second chance of living i love you so much angel i hope you know you saved me " he pulled her into his arms . " well unless you cook for me well then sorry that's out of my hands " he chuckled only to hear her giggles muffled in his t-shirt and her hand bat his chest.

" hey i'm not that bad but  i love you too " she looked up now smile on her face.

" say that too the pot in there , there she is , there's  my girl now how about we get some sleep and i make us some breakfast in the morning and we have a lazy ass day  watching movies and eating junk food , can even prank call your brother and stark i know you love winding those two up  " he kissed her lips before lifting her in his arms and carrying her into the room . both physically and emotional tired as her head on his chest hand over his heart . feeling the rise and fall of his chest , feeling his heartbeat and his hands in her scalp soothing her . she felt her eyes getting heavy and drifting off to sweeter dreams one where she lived a future with the man she never thought she would find herself falling in love with giving their first encounter .

While he watched her fall into a soothing sleep , wondering when it was the best time to use that ring he hid snugly in his drawer unbeknownst to him of making her dreams a reality . He meant it when he said it , he would burn the world burn just for her to be safe and he was going to do everything to keep her safe . but for now he all he could do was hold his angel , his favourite murdock and lets his own dreams take over one's now filled with promises of a better and bright future. Because a future with angel ,was a future worth living for .  

[girlyrafe]

jellycat secret santa.ᐟ

ʚɞ a december to remember

𖢔 notes: kinda lost the concept but still!

── .✦ advent .ᐟ

summary: you and Rafe but each other jellycats as a sort of secret Santa for Christmas but his choice is initially a little questionable.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

So, we’ve all seen that TikTok trend where a group of girlfriends buys each other a thong and a Jellycat that’s supposed to match their personality, right? Well, then there’s Rafe. He’s not a girl, but you still want to see his take on you through the eyes of a Jellycat. So…

“Hey, Ray.” You snuggle up closer to him on the couch, your phone glowing brightly in the dim light. You flip it toward him, showing a video of people exchanging Jellycats like a cute, plushie version of Secret Santa—minus the naughty bits, of course.

Rafe takes your phone with a smirk, already guessing where this is going. “Uh-huh?” he says, raising an eyebrow, like he’s already got it figured out.

“Can we do that too?” you ask, a hopeful gleam in your eyes. “But, like, pick Jellycats that remind us of each other and wrap them up all cute and cosy?”

So, a couple of weeks later, here you both are, sitting on his bed. You’re cross-legged, practically bouncing with excitement like a kid on Christmas morning, while Rafe lounges against his headboard, trying to play it cool—though you can tell he’s just as excited as you are.

Between you two are two bags, overflowing with tissue paper, each neatly wrapped—well, yours is, but Rafe's did his best (there’s a bit of tape sticking out, but it's charming). Your excitement is practically vibrating off you, making Rafe even more nervous than he probably already was, hoping you’ll like his pick.

“Soo,” you start, stretching the word out dramatically. “Soo?” he teases back, mimicking you with a grin.

 

“Well…” You nod at the bags, then hand him yours and take his in return. 

You let him go first. The plush you picked for him is so adorable, in your humble opinion. And while Rafe might not care too much about the plushie itself, you’re sure he’ll at least think it’s cute.

When he pulls the bear out, he immediately bursts out laughing. You watch, eyes wide, as he hugs the soft, coffee-coloured bear to his chest, still laughing. 

“I fucking love this,” he says, finally catching his breath. “It’s perfect. Like… it’s really like something else here.” He gestures to himself, and you're not sure if he's talking about his own personality or... something else, but either way, thank god he loves it.

The more you grin at him, the more his laughter bubbles up. The bear’s name is Bartholomew, but honestly, it’s like he’s the plushie version of Rafe—stern on the outside but secretly a total softie. 

He hands you your bag next, still chuckling. You can feel your heart race with a little mix of excitement and nervousness. 

You tear away the paper quickly, and your eyes go wide when you pull out—wait, is that a goat? 

Your confusion must be obvious, because Rafe’s face turns a little sheepish. He watches you intently, waiting for your reaction.

It’s not what you expected. You thought he’d pick something like a pink bunny or a cuddly kitten, but as you study the little goat—soft and round—it’s growing on you. The more you look at it, the cuter it gets. It’s actually adorable, in a quirky way. 

You look up at Rafe, who’s giving you a nervous grin. “I, uh, I can get you a different one if you don’t like it,” he stammers, clearly worried. “I just thought…”

You interrupt him before he can ramble too much. “Shut up,” you say with a teasing grin, pulling him toward you and kissing him before he can overthink it. His lips curve into a smile as he kisses you back, and for a moment, nothing else matters—just you, him, and the little goat that somehow fits perfectly into this moment.

©GIRLYRAFE

[darksturnz]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁!𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚆 +𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝙻! 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁

𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 ˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

contents: suggestive

angel!reader who woke up with an undeniable stickiness between her thighs the morning after her first encounter with father matthew, the memories of the dream still fresh in her mind. Her cheeks burned brighter than a firetruck, unable to shake the mortifying memory of the sinful things she had imagined doing with him. Desperate for forgiveness, she stepped into the confession booth, unaware that the very man who was the subject of her dream was on the other side, his ears listening to her confession while his hand was wrapped around his throbbing cock. ˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

father!matthew who managed to win over angel!readers strict parents by offering private Bible study sessions for her. In an act of persuasion, he convinced them that strengthening one's relationship with the Lord is of the utmost importance, and as a devout man of the cloth, he is more than willing to devote his time to help her further her faith.

father!matthew who just can’t seem to keep his filthy eyes off angel!reader during mass. his gaze travels up her smooth legs, lingering on her babydoll dresses, his thoughts wandering to forbidden places. the fabric clings to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. Every movement, every shift of her body, only seems to draw his attention further, his mind racing with impure thoughts and desires that are far from holy.

father!matthew who keeps a jar of lollipops in his private office solely for angel!reader. the way her glossy lips glide over the candy sends his mind wandering, far from the innocence the treat tries to convey. who replays those images in his head while his fist wraps around his cock in the shower, imagining your soft lips wrapped around his leaking tip.

angel!reader who found herself twisting and turning in bed all night after every private Bible study sessions with Father Matthew. the aching need between her legs made it difficult to concentrate at dinner, let alone fall asleep. the memories of their close proximity, his hand resting on hers as they read scripture, and the sound of his deep voice lingering in her mind, only adding to her frustration and desire.

father!matthew who noticed the subtle reactions: the clench of her thighs as he gave her knee a reassuring squeeze, the way her cheeks flushed with a hint of pink each time he praised her perfect recitation of a verse, the way her gaze would dart away from his face, as if avoiding meeting his eyes, whenever he prolonged direct eye contact.

AUTHORS NOTE: i’ll def be making more of these as their relationship progresses :)!

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife

[cheriematt]

SO EVERYONE IS GOING FERAL OVER THE CLIP OF MATT W HIS HAND AT HIS CROTCH, LIKE ME TOO BUT

WAS I THE ONLY ONE WHO DIDN'T NOTICE UNTIL EVERYONE WAS POINTING IT OUT 😭