#Lift up your heads Church
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THE KING OF GLORY
Psalm 24:7 Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.
Psalm 24:8 Who is this King of glory? The LORD strong and mighty, the LORD mighty in battle.
#Fear not!#Lift up your heads Church#Open your gates#Open your heart#The King Jesus Christ will come in#The Lord is strong and mighty#He will protect you in the fight#Jesus Christ#A More Perfect Tabernacle#The Son of God#Praise God#The Father
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Price who fumbles at first sight of his new assistant; falls head over heals immediately. There's no way you needed this job; surely you had a boyfriend or someone to take care of your pretty little head.
Price who barely giving you any work, at most, you'd have a single sheet on your desk needing to be signed and then sending you off early, giving you his card to spend to your hearts content. Don't worry about the stack of papers on his desk. No need for someone like you to lift a finger.
Price who sets up to have you stay late on some days when he finds out you're single. He insists on taking you out to dinner. It's the least he can do for taking up your time, dovie. Brings you to a real fancy place and doesn't hide the satisfied smirk on his face when you comment how you've never been somewhere so nice before.
Tries to be respectful as you talk about your day, but his eyes keep straying down to the tight bodice you're wearing, breast pushing up real nice, giving him a good view while he drinks from his wine glass. Though he damn near breaks it when the waiter lingers too long, badgering you about a refill when really he wanted another glance at what he can't have.
The night ends with Price taking a really tispy you home and fucking you face down into the mattress. His hands roam your back, trailing from your spine down to your ass, squeezing every bit of flesh he can get his paws on. He commits everything about you to memory.
The way you moan when he kisses your neck, the way he can make you tighten around him by playing with the curves of your body, and how your orgasm sounds like church bells ringing. He decides right then and there he wants to keep you forever, he cums twice that night, pumping you nice and full.
The next day, Price shows up to work excitedly, thinking you'd finally throw him a bone, tell him that you see more than just one night. He's completely disappointed when you treat him the same. Oh, okay, that's fine. If everything that occurred was just for the moment, he could live with that. Price lives through the memory. It keeps him up at night, leaving him painfully yearning for you.
For a while, this continues until you walk into his office a couple of weeks later, all nervous, stuttering over your own words, claiming you missed your period.
P2
#cod x reader#call of duty#captain price x reader#captain john price#sunshine sunni#john price#captain price
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"Do you regret it?" | Five Hargreaves
Summary: Y/n and Five, drunk at the end of the world .
Pairing: Five Hargreaves X Fem!Reader
A/n: Is this small? Yes, but I decided to post it to ease our broken hearts for five now
"Do you regret it?" Y/n says with her head resting on Five's shoulder.
He was drunk, but not as drunk as she was.
"Of what?" He says trying to sober up so he can understand her.
"Of meeting me." Y/n says and Five laughs at the thought, they grew up together, and after everything they've been through, she asks that kind of question.
"Do you want to know what I regret?" Five says, taking her hand.
"I regret not making you happier, not marrying you, and our retirement not working out." He says and laughs at the end. Y/n lifts her head from Five's shoulder and looks at her upset.
"But you make me happy!" She says with him words a little jumbled and Five smiles softly.
"No, I don't make , I just drag you into every mess I get myself into I'm terrible, grumpy, and I don't understand anything about feelings, I'm sorry." Five says taking Y/n's hand and intertwining his fingers with hers.
"Five?"
"Yes dear?"
"I wish I had married you." She speaks softly and Five smiles closing his eyes.
"I would also love to see you in a white dress." He says imagining her in a beautiful white dress.
"But maybe in another universe... we got married, right?"
"Or maybe you found someone better for you." He says it jokingly, but it hurts to think about love with someone else.
"As if anyone else would put up with me like this."
"You say that as if you weren't the most incredible woman in the world." He gives her a little kiss on the head and keeps his mouth there with his eyes closed.
"Maybe in another universe you would end up with Lila." She says this, and Five frowns.
"I'd rather be killed."
"But if I wasn't in this universe?"
"Well, then my life would be nothing but sadness." Five can't even think about the possibility of living a life without his Y/n by his side, and if there is such a universe, where his Y/n isn't there, he wants to stay far away from it.
They were silent for a while, and Five couldn't help but imagine their wedding, it would be just the way she wanted it.
"Would you prefer to get married in the church or outdoors?" Y/n asks and Five smiles
"She was imagining that too."
"Which do you prefer?" He asks, squeezing her hand tighter.
"I'm not sure."
"Well, I would like it to be just the way you dreamed."
"What's your dream wedding Five?" Y/n says with and Five's smile widens.
"One where you're the bride and I'm the groom."
#five hargreeves#five x reader#five hargreaves x reader#five hargreeves x reader#tua five x reader#tua netflix#tua x reader#tua spoilers#tua season 4#the umbrella academy x reader#the umbrella academy
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For Love, We Sin the Most
Nightcrawler x Reader
Technically spoilers if you read any x-men anthology and haven't made it through second coming/ haven't read quest for nightcrawler. I don't get into many details or stay very canon anyway lol
Warnings: 18+ | no pronouns or assignments used for reader | unprotected sex | sex in a church | kinda public sex? | an established relationship of some kind ;) | sad | but happy ending! sort of | lots of plot with some porn | comfort/fluff | a little foreplay, a little aftercare | light bondage? sorry I really love his tail
Word count: 2,650
Summary: The resident catholic is having a hard time settling with the terms of his resurrection and just trying to feel again.
When Rachel frantically called on you to find Nightcrawler, you probably preferred to find him in battle, fighting demons. Luckily, on a Sunday morning, you knew exactly where to look first, creaking open the large wooden door just enough to pass through into the small lobby. The lights were off, but there was low singing from further inside. You would have proceeded to peek past that second set of doors, but the quick flick of blue that curled out from the sunlight and into the shadows nearby finished your investigation for you.
Well, you did, in fact, find him fighting demons.
This would normally be the part where you'd tease him about being terrible at hiding, but you didn't need to see his face to hold your tongue. Instead, you found a nearby panel of switches, flooding his side of the room in low light. Without the darkness, he could no longer blend and hide, but he didn't recoil. Hunched over, his hands were clasped together on his knees, and his tail tightly curled over his feet. You approached him wordlessly. You could tell he was focused but not on you, proven when he crossed himself right on cue. A cue you hardly heard yourself.
He continued to sit still for a few minutes. Obviously, he knew who stood before him. Otherwise he would have hid. Taking a deep breath, you placed a hand on his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be attending the service?" You asked softly.
"I," he finally choked out after several moments. "I'm not sure I am allowed to anymore." His words, although quiet, dripped with despair. For him, this welcoming foyer was his ancient narthex, created for those who weren't allowed into the sanctuary but still wished to listen to its sermon.
"Have you spoken to a Father about it?" Without further knowledge, you can only suggest a priest.
"And what would I say?" Kurt raised his voice in his anguish and grimaced at his own volume. "What would he say?" He tagged on, much quieter this time. He practically curled into himself as if he were cold. You sighed sadly at the sight, looking away. A small staircase in the corner caught your interest and gave you another idea. Reaching your hands down to his, you unfurled his hands from one another and took them into yours. At the gesture, he finally lifted his head to look at you. It took all you could not to take his sad face in your hands instead.
"I think he would tell you to come in," you reply in a gentle whisper. You smile down at him as you barely tug him towards you, convincing him to stand. When he finally does, you study him. His black blazer and black slacks, his white button-up shirt. A few top buttons were messily undone, but it only made him more handsome. Silently, with a hand in his, you led him up those wooden steps. Your intuition was right when they opened into a high balcony overlooking the inner room. That narrow gallery stretched against the wall was mostly dark, with only the tops of stained glass windows bleeding in light over the single row of benches. There was a reason someone like him chose such a dark, unpopulated church.
As you began to leave the doorway, deadweight stopped you in your tracks. Looking back, a pair of downcast yellow eyes glowed under the wooden arch. Naturally, he blended into the shadow. You came back to him, taking his other hand and settling between him and the wall. At the very least, maybe it would help for him to see this place again, you figured. You let him listen, watching him closely as he watched the floor.
And what a horrible day for a sermon about heaven.
"I saw it, you know," he barely spoke up, accent whispering like a snake. "Paradise." He said the word hauntingly, not with any grandeur nor remorse. He turned his head as he spoke, looking down at the alter, but he seemed distant. Perhaps in memory. The light of the window caught his eye and reflected brilliant pale yellow. In the darkness, the other was like fire.
"And yet you came back," you whispered back. Even you weren't quite sure what you meant by it, but he knew it wasn't merely an observation. Contemplating, he stared down into the room. The priest below continued, but you only wanted to hear whatever else Kurt had to say.
"There were many reasons I did what I did," he soon continued, still not looking at you. "Did it the way I did." He never told you the full story, not even Logan knew. You waited for more, but he didn't respond. He probably didn't want to talk about it—at least, not for another few minutes.
"I never thought that love would be my greatest sin," he finally said. "I wanted so badly to come back," he nearly sobbed, quickly putting his hand over his mouth to keep from interrupting the service below. He gathered himself for a few moments.
"To this place," he continued, "to my friends," he sighs before turning towards you, his fiery orbs still refusing to meet your gaze, "to you." Even when you cupped his cheek in your hand, his hand you left behind followed, fingers wrapping around your wrist. "That it would be greater than my love for God," he started but didn't finish when his voice began to rise again. By now he was rambling about things you hardly understood, but you hung on to every word.
"You said it yourself," you gently tease, more loving than lighthearted. "There is no love without sin." With a soft smile, your touch on his cheek stroked over the fur on his neck and drifted over what bare upper chest those undone buttons revealed. You knew you shouldn't, not here, but as his expression only grew more somber, you found yourself sliding your hand further, reaching the space above his heart for only a second before frantic yet gentle fingers pulled you away, afraid of what you'd find.
Or the lack thereof.
You couldn't stand to see him so sad, not even willing to look at you. As the preaching continued somewhere down below, something about fulfillment, there was really only one thing on your mind as you continued to watch his pained eyes. "Do you miss it?" You didn't mean to let your emotion ring in your tone as you whispered— doubt, disappointment, sadness. He picked up on it, raising his face once more to meet your gaze. Solemn eyes panicked, realizing his mistake. With a change of posture, he stepped closer, grasping your arm and placing your palm over his chest again. "Not in the same way I missed here," he reassured you. His eyes were still sad, but so earnest. You could feel the metal cross hanging from his pendant with how hard he pressed your palm into his chest. You both stared at one another in silence, but understanding.
Something about the word doom was quietly uttered through the archway.
"I realize now that I had already found Paradise," he proclaimed longingly, leaning in slightly. Though flattered, you only half-smiled.
"You shouldn't talk like that here," you whispered, cupping his jaw. "Surely it's a sin."
And he'd already cut his path of redemption short enough.
"And yet it would be a sin not to." His tone was almost desperate. He leaned in closer, head tilted dangerously close to a kiss. You began to protest, but his grip on your arm tightened in defiance. "My soul is already adrift elsewhere," he hissed in a hurried whisper, "and He has no use for my body." He shook his head in defeat, tilting his chin to kiss the hand that held him before looking back up. "So if it's all I have left, I will use it to worship who does." His voice cracked against your lips, and he practically fell into you.
Your back hit the wall with a thud that made you panic, but any protest of his name was muffled and lost between his lips. He could only follow what made him feel at the moment, and he'd come to his senses later, but right now, he was desperate to atone for his sins in a different way. It was a long, suffocating kiss that was touch-starved, hardly focused on any particular pleasure other than the need for your warmth. Despite knowing your current circumstances, you relaxed into him, taking your hand from his face and gripping the soft, indigo curls on the back of his head. He took that as his cue to press into you impossibly more, knees knocking with yours as you both nearly buckled from his weight.
Finally, he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, warm breath fanning against your cheek a few times before eagerly diving back in. This time, he moved with you. Your noses knocked each time he rolled his head to find his favorite angle, and, in annoyance, you tried to hold him still with your hand on his neck and your grip on his hair. In response, his lips parted, tongue lapping at your top lip and tentatively touching yours when you let him in.
His grip on your waist was harsh, almost as if he was scared that if he let go even a little, he might lose this moment forever. As if he couldn't hold you enough, his tail joined in, wrapping itself beneath your ass and tightly snaking around your waist. You felt him smile into the kiss when you pet over the peach fuzz of his tail before he abruptly pulled away from your lips, tongue sliding over your bottom lip as he withdrew into your neck. Sweetly, he kisses your pulse. And you know where he's going.
"We should 'port somewhere else," you suggest softly. The light kisses on your neck become open-mouthed and wet, showing you just what he thinks about your suggestion. You catch the words reunion with God bouncing off the wall, and you weren't sure if the devil himself said it or the clergyman was sermonizing below. You tilted your head back for him at the prickling feeling of his fangs.
With a mind of their own, your hands worked down the rest of the button on his shirt, splaying your fingers through the velvety fluff of his chest, barely able to feel the warm beating of his heart. At least you knew that he was alive, in some way or another.
Making sure you could feel all of him, you pushed his blazer and shirt off his shoulders, feeling him down and scratching over his abs just the way he used to like it, and he tensed them just the way you remember.
When his hands left your hips to slide off his clothes, they came back to do the same to you, sliding under your top and over your bare skin. You let him undress you, and eventually, you both stood nude.
Even after being… gone for so long, he remembered just where to touch you. He held your hips flush with his while licked over your nipple, pawed between your legs, and tickled your inner thigh with the curling of his fuzzy tail. Feeling boneless, the wall helped him to hold you up while you focused on covering your mouth to muffle your pleasured moans and sighs.
You were suddenly spun around, strong arms wrapped tightly around you as they swiftly lowered you to the wooden floor. Kurt's lithe form settled between your legs, back bowed as he bent down to mouth over your stomach. On his knees, he worshiped you carnally, hands gripping over-excitedly at your thighs and waist.
Fingers around your wrist pulled your hand from your mouth, quickly replaced with that crushing pair of full lips again. Some would say he was desecrating holy ground, but Kurt would say quite the opposite. In��a nest of clothes, right there in the dark loft of his place of faith, he took you. Whether it was because he was most comforted here or because he was angry at the circumstances, his hips pumped into you with a fervor that had you clawing into his back and biting his shoulder to muffle your whines.
The floor was cold and hard and uncomfortable as he rocked you back and forth, but he was the opposite— warm and soft and lovingly fucking you into the ground. Luckily, the pious music drifting through the doorway covered up the sound of his cock slapping into you and his hissing moans as you bit and carved the punishment of love into his skin.
You were ripped from his shoulder when he sat up, not even bothering to cover your gasping moan at the change in angle. Blunt nails dug into your skin as he held your hips, making your legs squirm and draw up behind him with the overstimulated pleasure.
It was like a perverse religious painting, with his cross pendant wildly swinging above you and fangs gleaming along with his eyes; his tail, pointed like a devil's, bound your legs around his waist. This was heaven to him right now, watching you arch your back off the ground and eyes fluttering heavily as you both found that perfect sweet spot.
It was when you came on him that his glowing eyes beheld the glorious sight he was searching for. He kept going, desperate to keep the image of your moaning, parted lips in his mind, and keep the feeling of your warm cream that dripped over his cock. "Oh~ mein gott," he growled at the way you tightened around him. You could almost laugh at the way he said it if you weren't busy trying to recover. "(Y/N)," he panted and spoke your name like gospel. "My dearest."
Your only response could be a meek whimper of his name, but it was enough when you weakly rolled your head to look up at him. If you couldn't tell by the way his brows raised and furrowed, you knew that he was right on the edge by the constriction of his tail around your ankles, keeping you bound around him while he came, throbbing, deep inside you.
It was quiet now, aside from panting and the sounds of the congregation conversing and slowly departing that same creaking door that got you here in the first place. You felt you could finally relax and close your eyes when the last of the noise was shut out with the door, and you could finally stretch out your legs again as you felt his tail unravel. He had the same idea, stretching out his legs when he fell into your side. He let you have your space, but that sneaky tail laid loosely over your thigh.
You felt a sort of regret for him as you turned to take in the proper view of his nude form lying elegantly in your bed of disheveled clothes, wishing to know what this meant for him… but you weren't going to ask, letting him bask in release— whatever kind it was. You reached for his pendant, twirling the chain between your fingers and observing the discoloration of the metal cross. Without even opening an eye, he took your attention away from it with a touch, making you hold his hand against his chest instead.
"I-" You eventually break the silence but pause, unsure what excerpt you should say. It gets his attention, eyes lifting to look into yours. You muster a smile. "I'm glad you're back," you say softly, simply. Despite the circumstances, despite what it meant, despite what it's already done to you, you wanted to add, but his own bittersweet smile already knew what you meant.
"Me too," he whispered and brought your hand up from his chest to kiss your knuckles. "Me too, my dear."
#nightcrawler#nightcrawler x reader#nightcrawler smut#nightcrawler x reader smut#nightcrawler fic#nightcrawler oneshot#nightcrawler one shot#nightcrawler imagine#nightcrawler headcanons#kurt wagner#kurt wagner x reader#kurt wagner smut#kurt wagner x reader smut#kurt wagner imagine#kurt wagner one shot#kurt wagner oneshot#kurt wagner headcanon#marvel#marvel smut#marvel headcanons#marvel fic#x men x reader
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𝜗𝜚 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄
— father charlie mayhew x f!reader
tags – mature content﹒18 +﹒fem!reader﹒oral sex (f!receiving)﹒blasphemy in general
♱ a/n ◞ sorry this is awful. english is not my first language
his hands are resting on your knees, his grip tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again. you’ve been absent for weeks—dodging mass, an act to spite your religious parents. but father charlie mayhew has always spoken in your favour, insisting to them that you were “just figuring things out.” but you know that charlie has an interest in you—he always had. lingering touches, the looks that lasted a beat too long, not to mention the way he defended you, even when he shouldn’t. you’re not naive to it.
and maybe that’s why you’re back in church, letting him do this. one final act of rebellion against the religious dogma they’ve forced upon you. dipping his head, charlie kisses the soft flesh of your inner thigh, eyelashes fluttering as he stares up at you. “you have no idea how much i missed you,” the look in his eyes is reverent, almost worshipful. which, given current circumstances is quite laughable.
you say nothing, giving him a saucy little smirk before graciously lifting your hips for him to slide your panties down your legs and past your ankles. you inhale sharply when you feel the pad of his finger push inside, slowly sinking to the knuckle. then inserting another. dragging across your plushy walls before curling against the sweet spot that makes your toes curl and your head tilt back; staring up at the faint slats of light filtering through the confessional booth’s lattice window, thin lines of shadow crisscrossing against the mahogany ceiling.
this is the closest to heaven i’ll ever be, you realise. with a priest between my thighs.
at the first kitten-lick, your entire world shifts—fracturing into pieces and reforming itself all at once. a moan escapes you when charlie wraps his tongue over your clit and sucks genty, teasing the bundle of sensitive nerves.
another suckle has you clamping your thighs around his head, fingers twisting in his hair.
every one of his movements is executed with finesse and precision, tactfully coordinating between thrusting his finger and licking your cunt until the pressure he’s been coaxing from you finally reaches its peak, exploding like a gentle burst of snowfall. white-hot pleasure engulfs your entire being, blinding in its euphoric intensity. fingers stilling, charlie keeps his tongue flattened his against your clit as it pulsates throughout the glorious orgasm that follows, him lapping away greedily as if a starved man bestowed upon the nectar of god.
the muffled groans and wet slurping noises between your thighs are nothing short of obscene, and yet you’ve never experienced such a deep sense of satisfaction, of freedom in your life. but with him—the man who always urges you to cast propriety aside for indulgence. father charlie, who wears his hubris like armour, who twists scripture to justify every sin you commit together.
perhaps it’s lust, or something close to it. you don’t know him well enough to say it was love, but you’re drawn to him nonetheless, like eve to the apple, like the prodigal son to his rebellion.
he tries to lead you astray, and you let him. every time.
mlist. © fear-is-truth do not repost, modify or translate
#𝐅.𝐈.𝐓#father charlie mayhew#grotesquerie#Charlie mayhew#charlie mayhew x reader#charlie mayhew x y/n#Charlie mayhew smut#father charlie x reader#charlie mayhew x you#nicholas chavez#nicholas alexander chavez#nicholas chavez x reader#nicholas chavez smut#Nicholas chavez x you
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NSFW EIGHTEEN+
all i seem to think about lately is religious!abby who grew up in a church all her life, always been told she needs to be with a man, marry one, build a life with one — owen in particular is who she’s been told to have. the arranged marriage she was basically grown into.
in her early twenties, yet has she had the opportunity to be with another. a promise to her father, with the cross-necklace laying on her chest, she’s dedicated to being celibate until marriage. a pact practically bound by the blood of virgin mary, she believes in the sacred bond she has through faith with her god and savior, jesus christ. funnily enough, it’s the words she utters as you corner her in the bathroom. well…not so much as cornered, not with those curious blue eyes begging for something, anything to unburden her from the life abby feels trapped in. even if she knows it goes against everything she’s been taught, she doesn’t stop you from snaking your hand up her sunshine sunday dress, bright blue as it bring out her eyes, never leaving your actions. at first, your fingers only running along her folds, teasing the era until she’s dripping for you. there isn’t a doubt in your mind she’s never felt anything like this.
the gold cross pendant a pawn in her mouth as if the only purpose it’s ever served is to be a prop until the cadence revealed itself. the truth of religion can be found on the tips of your fingers, the delicate touches on abby’s clit. abby lets her mind wander into the altar, the communion she takes, you’ll be the sin she begs for forgiveness next. seeping into her body like the blood pumping through her veins, the lone reason for her existence was for you. no god could compare to this, the trembling of her thighs, the moans she whispered in hopes not even her savior from above could hear her.
is god really the way, the truth, and the light if she sees heaven through your eyes?
“this is what you wanted isn’t it? someone to save you from the chains you call religion? let me set you free.” without a second more wasted, your tongue laps at her pussy, enjoying the way she can barely hold herself up. letting you claim something now has had the privilege of venturing. she would be shunned, ostracized from society if anyone knew the truth.
truthfully, it’s an easy task. the angelic blonde so deprived of another’s touch she slithers in the hands of a snake, tasting the forbidden fruit for the first time. it’s quick, overwhelming when she comes undone, spilling her sweet nectar into your lips, hips moving uncontrollably as she fucks your face. knuckles bearing the color of winter snow, clutching onto her dress that rests at her toned abdomen as you swallow every last drop.
stepping away from her, you grab a washcloth, running it under warm water, abby unable to move. impending doom washes over her guilty, and now sinful, heart. this never should have happened, the voice in her head repeats, the path of self righteousness was supposed to be hers but now she finds herself acquainted with the sinner and the snake, straying from the life of a discipline and discipleship.
“hold your pretty dress for me. can’t get it wet, can we?” abby lifts her dress, clutching it as the warm wash rag gently cleans her, she feels your fingers dip inside her slightly, thorough as you clean up her cum.
“i should get back out there.” abby shyly whispers. “my dad will be looking for me…and owen.”
“right.” you toss the used rag on the countertop, “just one more thing.”
with a passion laced in your tongue, you steal her breath away, lips locking either her pinky, pouting ones. abby can only assume the salty but even sweeter taste is her. whimpering as you squeeze her small tits through the pale blue dress, abby can’t help but grind against your legs between her legs, aching for something more. this time, you deny her of what she so desperately needs.
“come and find me when you’re ready for a real fuck, princess.”
#tw religious themes#uh dont ask me what this is#i'm just a lesbian with alot of religious trauma and i'm depressed!#abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x masc reader#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson x fem!reader#abby anderson x gn!reader#abby anderson x gender neutral reader#abby anderson smut#religious!abby#abby x you#abby x y/n#abby x reader#abby smut#abby x fem!reader
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Thinking about priest Jason Todd and realizing that would be really fucking funny if he was just this die hard catholic.
Damian, invading his safe house again messing around like a little shit: What do you keep in this drawer? Tt- It's probably a knife.
Jason: My Bible.
Damian:
Damian: Your what?
Jason, deadpanned: My Bible.
---
Dick: I know I will regret this
Dick: What's up with the altar candle's in front of Virgin Mary?
Jason: I pray for each soul I take.
Dick: I'm sorry– you what?
Jason: Each sould I take. When I kill people. So they find their way into purgatory. How do you think they are getting in hell? I light the candle, I pray for them *Looking at the candles* Your welcome.
---
In the middle of a shooting with almost a hundred henchmen
Jason, whispering: If we get out of here alive I'll walk the entirety of Gotham's church stairs on my knees.
The signal, next to him: Because that definitely won't be nothing disturbing. Early mourning fuckin Redhood, walking on his knees to a church. You usual Sunday in Gotham city.
Jason: Shut up asshole I'm praying.
---
Batman, inside of a church at nine pm doing an investigation: What are you doing here?
Jason lifting his head up from the church pew, holding his hands: The fuck look like I'm doing?
#jason todd hc#catholic!Jason#priest jason todd#jason todd priest#jason todd#redhood#q rambles#tw blasphemy#?#idk
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ateez and corruption kinks… that’s it I just had to let that out into the void
communion
pairing: priest! yunho x nun! reader (fem)
summary: priest jeong wishes to share another communion with the most beloved member of the monastery.
wc: 1.1k
warnings: for the love of god (lol) if sacrilegious smut isn’t your thing do NOT read this,, however if it IS wellll i got something good for you <3, wine drinking, but like, in an unconventional way lmao, nasty perverted dom! yuyu, subby cock hungry! reader (can we blame her tho?), implied sex slave training, oral (giving/receiving), deepthroating, finger sucking, cum eating, implied toy usage (the toy is um….well…a religious object…)
a/n: oh nonnie idt you realize what you’ve unleashed with that ask ^^ there’s nothing i love more than corruption 🖤 physical, emotional, psychological ughhhh,,, anyways writers block and some shitty real life stuff have been taking turns beating me up the past couple months so i thought this might be a good escape for me :3 i hope you enjoy <33
p.s: i’ll be posting two more fics with a corruption theme very soonnn,, one features perverted bsf wooyoung and the other involves frat boy sannie 🫶🏼
song rec: take me to church - hozier (i mean come on….)
No matter how dark the communal church grew in the late hours of the night, the bright light of the moon still shone through the fragmented mosaic glass, now casting a myriad of gleaming crosses across your face and body as you sat on your knees upon the altar. You raised your hands up to begin worshipping your Lord in the way you were taught by Father Jeong, gingerly opening his robes to unveil the point of your focus.
Yunho lifted up a ceremonial bell and rung it once, his robes pooling around his feet, watching as your thighs squeezed tightly together underneath your heavy garments, your shaky exhale fanning over his exposed, twitching cock, finding the unyielding look of pure lust inside your eyes to be so beautiful he could shed a tear. Over the many, many communions you’ve shared together, it seemed that the bell reminded you of your loyalty to him and to your shared savior, of the pleasure you shared all in the name of God.
He pushed your veil off to expose your hair, before he placed his large hands on either side of your head, his long, slender fingers wrapping securely around it. “And, what do we say now, Sister L/N?” he asked softly, as though he were testing you, dragging his tongue over his top set of teeth, letting out a few heavy breaths.
“O’ Lord, for which I am about to receive, is truly your most precious Body and your life-giving blood, which, I pray, makes me worthy to receive for the remission of all my sins and for everlasting life,” you recited your prayer like many times before, the wetness between your thighs everlasting, watching Father Jeong let go of your head for a second to pick up a chalice of wine from the ceremony table behind him.
Yunho held the gold chalice just above his waist, growing that much harder as the dark liquid began to pour down his long, curved length, spilling off of his sticky tip and dripping into your open mouth. “The Blood of Christ…” He watched you swallow it all down, like the obedient servant you were. Something this sinful simply had to be holy, didn’t it? He swallowed down the abundant saliva that filled his mouth. “Ahh?” he voiced, like he was waiting for you to say something.
“Amen,” you sighed out, licking the remnants of wine and pre-cum from your lips, your trembling fingers clasping around his bare hips.
“Amen.”
Yunho then thrusted forward until he hit the back of your parched throat, eagerly dragging you back and forth along his sizable cock, using you like the faithful cocksleeve you were, the repetitive sounds of squelching, gagging, and muffled moaning sending delightful shivers down his spine, much like the sacred hymns did to him every morning during mass. “Sister L/N, your throat has molded to the shape of my cock, has it not? Bonding with me all these long nights, over and over, it’s like you were made for me, and only me. Tell me, Sister, does taking the Body of Christ down your throat make you feel closer to God?”
You let out a stunted, pleased moan, blinking a few tears out of your dazed, half closed eyes, watching as a blurry version of Father Jeong brought his rosary up to his lips to kiss it. Due to being trained so consistently, you knew to relax your jaw and throat in order to take all of him without fail, your gag reflex nonexistent, simply drooling all over his long, heavy cock instead, much to Yunho’s delight.
“Oh, God, let His will be done….” He hunched over slightly, in order to pound himself into the back of your throat over and over, thick strands of pre-cum and saliva dripping from your chin and landing onto your previously pristine garments, his fingers closing in around your bulging throat to feel himself moving inside it. It was simply too much for the priest to handle. “So…nnngh–sovereign, so pure, this divinity…” Yunho expressed between heavy pants, suddenly pulling out until his twitching cockhead rested against your splayed out tongue. “Sister L/N, you must show me something heavenly so that I may fill you with the Holy Spirit. Be quick, for I am at my limit…”
Licking the beads of pre-cum from his slit, you began to lift up the layers of your tunic until your bare cunt glistened underneath the moonlight that was casted over you like a spotlight, the edges of your skin glowing as though you were a real life angel, one that was sent down from above to tempt Yunho, especially now that he could see you in your most vulnerable state. “Father Jeong, please see what I’ve done for you. I’ve kept myself full…so that I may take you inside properly…”
It was then that Father Jeong fell to his knees before you, looking up at the slick heaven in between your thighs, before leaning in to lap up the abundant wetness from your lips, his hot tongue practically melting against your cunt as he ate you out like a starved man, spreading your open with his ringed thumbs. Maintaining steady eye contact with you, he slowly pulled the hood of your clit back to expose your weak point, wrapping his plush lips around it as he began to suck and lick until he had you trembling above him, your nails digging into the dense wood of the pews. “Cum before me,” he commanded, dragging his tongue along your fluttering slit up to your throbbing clit until you let out a beautifully broken cry.
You spread your trembling thighs open just enough to allow what was filling you up the entire time to slowly come sliding out, both you and the priest letting out a similar gasp once it did. A thick, slick-covered silver cross landed inside Yunho’s open palm. He watched diligently as you lifted it up to his mouth, not even having to say anything as he sucked it clean. Without exchanging words, Yunho stood back and squeezed his throbbing cock, just as you lowered yourself back down onto your knees with a loving smile, watching with pride as he began to shudder, long spurts of his hot cum landing onto your tongue and disappearing down your throat.
“What a thing of beauty….” The priest swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. “You never fail to bring me close to our Savior, my dear,” he praised, reaching down to rub the remaining remnants of his seed over your swollen lips and onto your tongue with his thumb, pulling it away from your mouth and licking the last of his saltiness off of his digit himself.
“It’s all for the greater good,” you softly replied, slowly standing up and hiking up your now soiled garments, so that you could bend over the pew, spreading yourself wide, opening the gates of your heaven and giving Yunho access like every blissful night before. “Now, please allow me to bring you even closer.”
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Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 5)
You were never one to complain. Living in the foster system means accepting all kinds of shit that comes with being an orphan in a stranger's house.
You almost never received any presents. It was rare the times you did get something at your placements, but if you did, it was a hand me down. Like the thin blue jacket you came wearing, that was a present from a divorced mother who kids were already too big for the jacket. Or the white dress that a christian family gave to you so you could go to church with them 'dressed appropriately'.
Well, you couldn't complain about that one. The simple white dress is to this day your 'fanciest' piece of clothing.
You wouldn't say you were that much of a picky eater either, but you certainly didn't like all kinds of food... which is pratically torture in the system. You just learned to push all kinds of food down your throat quietly, and if it was truly too bad for you to manage? You would simply come up with a weak excuse and run away from the food.
Being any kind of picky eater in the system was torture. Even worse if you have allergies. You knew a boy at your last group home that was allergic to glutten and peanuts, and he was basically as thin as you were. He was still bigger, being a cat hybrid and all, but at least you knew you weren't the only one suffering at these houses.
So imagine your surprise when John, the big hybrid dragon, spend his whole morning gently coaxing you to go shopping with him and Simon, to get 'things you might need', and 'snacks you might like to eat', and even 'go grab lunch at the mall'.
At first, you were too nervous and anxious to say anything, mostly just staring back at him as you fidgeted quietly in place. It took Johnny joining the conversation excitedly, Kyle sending you stupid thumbs up quietly from the living room couch, and Simon picking up the keys to their car while looking at you expectantly for you to finally agree to go with them.
So here you were, walking between two giants of men at a big and loaded shopping center, nervously trying to keep your pace matched up to theirs as Simon made sure to keep a hand enveloped tightly around your much smaller hand.
Worse of all? A lot of people were looking your way. Big hybrids like Price and Ghost weren't unnusual, but the small little human holding their hand surely was. Not only human, but a human under the care of hybrids. You wanted to burry your head in a deep hole and never come out.
"Darlin'." John's deep and purred voice called your attention immediatly as you looked up at him quietly. "Don't try and wander off, understood?"
You nod quietly, slightly intimidated by his tone and serious face.
"Good baby." He purrs out, giant hand coming down on your head as he messes slightly with the small strands there. "Now, sweetness, let's buy you some things."
"I... I really d-don't need anything..." You murmur quietly, a bit anxious about them wasting money on you.
Both of them looked at you with those serious expressions for a few seconds, considering you. John smiled slightly as he compromised, lifting both hands up.
"Then let's look around, if we find something, then that's good." His laugh is deep, slow and rough. It's clear the smoke from his dragon side had some effect on his throat. That, and he probably smoked cigars and cigarettes too.
You just nodded quietly, not willing to go against his word, as you three kept walking around. That is, until Simon grunted, fixing the surgical mask on his face and looking down like he was thinking of something.
".......what...?" You murmur softly, confused.
"I think you're breaking Simon's back, hun." John laughed deeply, shaking his head slightly.
"W-Wha...?"
"You're too small for me to hold your hand confortably." The wraith deadpanned. "Stay still."
"W-Wait, wh- Aah!"
You were stunned for a second, as you were suddenly held high up. Big, thick arms held your legs easily, making you sit in the crook of his elbow, as he held you to his side like a toddler. It was enough to shut your little squeak of surprise as you were just in shock now.
"Simon, I told you to be gentle." The dragon smirked slightly, tho his voice a bit more rough than usual as it seems to always have an edge of a growl on it.
"I am." The wraith grunted quietly as he started to walk once again. "This is the best option for the both of us. Right, luv?"
"A-Ah... I..." You were too flustered to properly say anything, but you still nodded your head slowly, trying to settle on his arms.
"See?" Simon smirked under his mask to John, as the older man simply rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.
"Say, darlin'. Do you like ice cream?" John offers out of nowhere as he smiles confidently, ignoring Simon's remark.
".....some flavors, yeah..." You mumble back, a little arm holding on Simon's shoulder as you looked around quietly, trying to ignore other people's looks.
"What's your favorite?" He asks easily, taking a different path as Simon followed close behind.
"...Vanilla is good..."
"Good, then vanilla is what you're gonna get." He answers simply, with the confidance you don't think you have ever seen on anyone else.
"...it's... it's really okay if you don't..." You try quietly, only to see him shaking his head slowly, looking over his shoulder that didn't have the wing, expression serious and stoic as his rough voice murmured.
"I provide to my hoard, little hatchling. It would do you good to remember that."
Those words, spoken in that way, was enough to immediatly shut you up, your body instinctively curling on itself (more on Simon really) at the sigh of an intimidating predator.
Tho, Simon didn't let you suffer in your fear and anxiety, as his big and wide palm settled on your small back, pulling you closer to his chest for confort as he was speaking, slow and quiet, even if his voice always sounded rough.
"Price's not mad, fledgling. Stay calm. He's not mad, much less mad at you. He's just a protective bastard." He snorted quietly, bouncing you a little on his arms to help you calm down.
"Watch it, Riley." Price mumbled, tho he had a small smile on his face as he slowed his pace a bit to stand by you and Simon, big hand now being placed on your upper back, which was a slightly shock due to how warm it felt. Simon was wearing gloves, but he felt much cooler. "And i'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to scare you."
He was also doing that subtle baby voice, keeping his voice much quieter as he leaned in and gently nudged half of his face against yours, making you freeze a bit at the action. It really felt like a big animal was trying to be apologetic.
"If Kyle was here, you would've gotten an ear full." Simon commented simply as he watched, amused.
"Thank god he isn't." John huffs a little, stepping back. "I don't need mother hen scolding me for this. I didn't even growl." And now, he was leaning slightly closer again, that quiet and gentle tone coming back as he looked at your small, nervous face. "I'm not that scary, am I, darlin'?"
"'Course you are, for a small little thing like this?" Simon laughs roughly, shaking his head, his grip in you getting firmer.
"I-I'm not scared..." You mumble quietly, playing a bit with the sweater that they lent it to you yesterday, not making eye contact with either of them.
"Of course not, darlin'..." John cooed deeply, tho his tone made it clear that he wasn't taking your answer seriously, rubbing your head gently. "Come on."
In the end, they got you a vanilla ice cream on a big cone, that you were licking it quietly. They were speaking with eachother as they planned what next things to buy, and what stores to visit. You weren't paying that much attention, just focusing on your vanilla ice cream as Simon carreid you around.
You got used to him carrying you, and now, you were much more confortable on his hold.
"Baby, look here." John's voice once again called your attention as you lifted your head from the ice cream to stare at him. "What do you think of this blanket?"
You tilted your head to the side, slightly confused, but you reached for the soft blanket he brough close, feeling the fuzzy, confortable texture.
"It's... good." You mumble, unsure about what to say.
"Just good?" John asked, considering your answer, looking between you and the blanket, before putting it back in place. "Let's see others, then."
You were not entirely sure what John was trying to do. Maybe buy you a blanket, but... you already had lots of blankets on the bed they gave you. And on the weird nest on the middle too.
Still, you got distracted once again with the ice cream in your tiny hold, going back to licking it. You were already getting a bit full... you were never the biggest fan of ice cream, you got tired of it fast. So, as you looked quietly to the side to stare at Simon's face, you gently brought the cone close to his face, making him look at you passively.
"Do you want a bit...?" You mumble softly, only to see the man pushing his surgical mask to his chin and taking a big bite out of the ice cream you were holding in front of his face.
You managed to see his scary, pointy and large teeth, the slightly too long and sharp tongue at the action, making you instinctively shudder on his hold. It was natural, a human watching their predator showing their dangerous teeth like it was nothing. Still, you were thankful for his help.
"Oww...." You turned a bit alarmed to John's direction as you heard the dragon's deep croon, his eyes getting half-lidded and pupils dilating. "Always soft for the hatchlings, aren't you, Simon?"
Simon just hums, swallowing the ice cream and licking his lips simply, keeping his serious expression.
"I'm used to being the kids' trashcan." He... joked? You were not sure, since he kept his face and tone so stony, but by John's laugh, you deduced it was a joke.
"Here, hun, how does this blanket feel?" John asks as he brings another fuzzy blanket close, light blue and full of colorful little dots.
"Good... confortable..." You mumble, feeling the material.
"Hmmm...." John considered once again, humming as he squinted his eyes.
"John, you know humans don't nest. She's not going to have hard instincts towards blankets." Simon comments, almost bored as te took another bite of your almost finished ice cream.
"I know, it's just... different to see it." John nods slightly before shrugging. "Do you like this color, little one?"
You just nod quietly, now understanding a bit more what was going on. Indeed, you shouldn't expect nesting instincts from a human, but even you could tell when the blanket was confortable and made from a good material.
"Come on, doll. Let's see what else we can find for you before having lunch." John mumbles softly, leaning close once again, quickly kissing Simon on the lips, who kissed back easily, and then kissing you on the forehead gently.
They were... very nice. Even if a bit scary.
#poly141#poly!141#cod#foster child!reader#teen!reader#kid!reader#simon ghost riley#john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#wraith!ghost#werewolf!soap#dragon!price#harpy!gaz#monster 141 au#monster au#cod mw2#cod mw3#tf 141#dad!price#dad!ghost#dad!soap#dad!gaz#hybrid 141#human!Reader#platonic!141
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A Trip Down Memory Lane
Summary: Messmer decides to surprise you in more ways than one.
Spoilers for both Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings tho, just me loving my fiery redhead.
MESSMER LOVERS COME EAT!
I finally got the courage to upload the fic I was working on! Everyone was so nice (and starving for Messmer content) so I folded lmao. Please enjoy and understand that I have never written anything like this, especially with ye olde English. It's a pain.
“I have something I wish to show thee.” Messmer’s low voice cut through the silence reverberating in his chamber.
“What is it?” You look up from patching a hole in one of his cloaks.
“I cannot say. It is a surprise.” His eye twinkled with something akin to mischief. You put down your needle and gently fold his cloak, putting it on your chair to finish later.
“A surprise for me? Are you feeling alright, My Lord?” You smile at him from where he towers above you.
“Shush. Wilt thou follow?”
“Always,” you say.
He leads you down countless flights of stairs and through the castle’s corridors. Down a hallway, you follow him as he steps into a lift that takes you to a part of the castle that is unfamiliar to you. You assumed you had explored everything by now, but it seems you were wrong. Messmer had given you permission to freely roam the castle, and you had spent a lot of time exploring the various rooms. You had gotten lost many times within the many twisting and confusing hallways, but the castle staff always led you back to your quarters.
The path from the lift leads out to a part of the castle almost entirely flooded. This seems like a place that hasn’t been occupied in many years. Some of the buildings you can see appear to be collapsing and debris litters the area. The water churns uneasily below you, as if something lurks in the depths. Taking a few steps away from the ledge, you stare out into the water that swallows surrounding buildings.
“What is it?” Messmer asks. He senses your trepidation in going any further, though you don’t think you have much to worry about with a powerful demigod at your side. Still, this place sets your nerves alight and has you on high alert.
“I’ve never seen this place before. Where are we?”
He speaks as if it’s common knowledge. “The Church District.”
“What happened here?”
He takes a second before he responds in a flat tone. “It does not matter.” Noticing your face falling slightly, he gives you a small smile. “Thy surprise is near. Come.”
You continue to follow him, your footfalls mere echoes of his much heavier ones. You wonder where he is taking you, and why he decided to surprise you. Though you have gotten much closer to him throughout your time in the Realm of Shadow, you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he wants to show you something himself. So many unanswered questions, though Messmer brings about many of those. Still, you cannot complain about how well he treats you now after you’ve earned some of his trust. You are safe within his walls, and you are welcome.
Though you wish he’d let you into his heart and mind more often, you take what you can get.
Finally, he stops in a room with a large, and complete, statue of Queen Marika. Many throughout the Realm of Shadow have been beheaded, sending icy chills through you when you first arrived, but this one is intact. The only signs of damage have been from the apparent age of the statue.
“Dost thou trust me?”
His question catches you off guard. Looking up at him, he looks vulnerable and almost uncomfortable.
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have followed if I didn’t.” You smile at him to ease his tension.
He relaxes slightly. “Of course. I will ask thee to trust me again.”
You shoot him a puzzled look. How could you trust him any more than you already have?
“Close thine eyes. I shall lead thee, hand in hand.”
The prospect of him holding your hand makes heat rush to your cheeks, but you comply. Closing your eyes, you hold out your hands, and a few seconds later, he grabs them in his much larger ones. He holds them delicately, as if you might break if he dares to squeeze your hands. His skin is surprisingly smooth and warm.
“I will ensure thou dost not fall and injure thyself..”
“I’d appreciate that.”
He chuckles at your comment, a sound so rare and pleasant you want to hear it again and again. He begins walking, gently guiding you down a hill and you soon feel sunlight on your skin. The air feels lighter and there is a pleasant smell of lavender and fresh grass in the air. You wonder where you could possibly be. You haven’t seen much greenery in the Realm of Shadow.
After a few minutes he stops and lets go of your hands. You instantly miss his warmth, but you soon feel the heat of him behind you. You keep your eyes closed out of obedience and trust; you know he would not harm you.
His hands gently find your waist and he moves you a few steps to the left. Satisfied, he lowers a hand over your eyes to ensure you will not open them prematurely.
“This place is sacred. Inviting thee here was not a spontaneous act.” His voice is a mere whisper in your ear. You can’t tell whether to be scared or excited for what he will soon allow you to see.
He moves his hand away from your eyes, but they remain closed. You will not sully his trust.
You can hear the smile in his voice. He’s pleased by your obedience.
“Open thine eyes.”
You do, and you are immediately greeted with a grassy field speckled with vibrant flowers. You’ve never seen so many in one place. You think it would take all day to identify them. Trickles of gold sit suspended in the air like shattered stained glass and the sunlight kisses your skin sweetly. Not far up a hill is a small village made up of a few wooden houses. They look old and mostly abandoned. You take in the beauty before you. Not even Leyendell was this spectacular.
“Thou’rt pleased, I take it?” His voice wavers slightly with uncertainty.
“This is a most wonderful surprise, My Lord. Thank you for bringing me here.” You look up at Messmer, whose golden eye seems to shine brighter in the sanctity of this place.
“Forget formalities here.” He sits down in the soft grass and you are soon to join him. He looks relaxed, even happy, here.
“May I ask where we are now?” You idly skim your fingertips over the silky petals of the flowers swaying in the breeze around your skirt.
“Mother’s home. Her village before she became a God.”
Your mouth hangs open in shock. It takes you a few moments to gather yourself enough to speak. “Queen Marika lived here?”
“Yes,” he answers. “Long ago.”
You wonder if Marika wanted Messmer to guard her old home, or if he does it out of love for her. You’ve seen the state of other Shamans within his infirmary, his medics working day and night to try and reverse the torture they’d went through. You knew Marika was a Shaman herself, but you’d never realized this place was originally her home. Your heart hurts for the God-Queen. Behind all her power was a girl who wanted her people safe.
You sigh, and Messmer shoots you a curious look. “This is the first time I’ve seen Marika as a person. Knowing she lived here, knowing she suffered… I understand now.”
Messmer reaches up and takes his helmet off, gently placing it to his side. “Mother desired revenge for her peoples’ suffering, and I became her instrument to do so here, in the Land of Shadow.”
“Did you want this?”
He closes his eye. “Mother has endured what a thousand people could not. I will ensure she receives her long-awaited deliverance.” He dodged the question. He does not want this, but he desires to avenge Marika.
“I know you won’t answer me truthfully, and we don’t have to talk about this anymore. But know this: you are not ‘The Impaler’ to me.”
“Thank you.” His response is so quiet you almost can’t hear it, despite being right next to him.
As promised, you change the subject. “Have you brought others here?”
He looks away and you can see a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.
“I have not. The first to lay eyes on this place is thee.” He admits.
“Why?”
“I-“ he begins. “Surely thou must know thy importance to me, yes?”
The realization hits you.
This is his way of saying he loves you.
You scoot closer to him and lay your head against his arm. You feel him tense, then slowly begin to relax. One of his snakes gently perches itself on your shoulder. You smile.
“You can touch me, you know.” You reassure him. “You won’t break me.”
Silence hangs in the breeze as you wait for him to respond.
“Dost thou understand my reason for bringing thee here?”
You nod against him. “I think so.”
He moves away from you, earning himself a confused look, then he slowly grabs your hands and pulls you closer until you are comfortably sitting between his legs. You look up at him and see that his face is almost as red as his hair. He is adorable when he blushes.
You could get used to this.
“You will forgive me if I am too presumptuous. I am… not accustomed to touch, yet I want thee closer.” His soft, silky voice makes your heart melt.
“I want you closer too. It’s okay.” You cup his face with both hands, and though it’s a simple gesture, he relaxes into your touch almost immediately. His eye closes and you try to memorize the look of peace etched on his face.
“With thee, I am content.” He whispers to you.
“Then I’ll see to it that we’re never separated.”
His eye flutters open and he hazily looks down at your lips. His hand engulfs your cheek and you feel the warmth radiating from his palm.
So many have met their demise from the man sitting in front of you now, content and complacent, and that thought sends shivers down your spine.
“No man nor God could tear thee away from me. That is a promise.”
He leans forward and kisses you. His lips are soft and he pulls you closer to him and his hands are splayed possessively over your face and back. You don’t want to pull away, and you get the feeling he doesn’t want to either.
You are his as he is yours.
#messmer the impaler#messmer x tarnished#messmer the impaler x reader#messmer x reader#elden ring x reader#i love him your honor#he's so pookie
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Been thinking of armand x reader x louis and their whole dynamic. I could see her being one of the actors, i want them WHIPPED for her. Like sis has these two powerful beings wrapped around her finger, scary dog privileges fr
Trust | Armand x Reader x Louis
ෆ born for stardom, but destined for chaos, the last thing you ever expected was for two old vampires to become your companions.
it is finally here, the amount of requests for these two has been ASTRONOMICAL 😅 I promise there will be more in the future!!!!
“Open your hands,” your father barked. Holding out your palms, you winced, tears running down your face as the belt came in contact with your hands.
Drawing your hands back, he stopped you and roughly grabbed your wrist. Yanking your arm forward, he brought another lash to your stinging palms.
“You've been missing church to be at that bar, seducing those men like a harlot,” he screamed at you. You could see your mother looking away, too afraid to intervene. She never helped you, her marriage was first, and you were always an afterthought.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to sing, I was only singing-
“Are you alright, my love?” Snapping out of your thoughts, Armand lifted your head to look at him. You sat comfortably on the floor, surrounded by the handsome models, but looked up at your maker, while he stared down, his soft curls in his face.
“I’m okay,” you smiled, watching as he went to stand next to Louis, who sent a wink your way. Knowing him, he heard or saw something in your thoughts and told Armand.
“Shall we continue?” The photographer asked nervously, relieved when Louis nodded at him.
"Did she have to be practically naked?" Armand asked.
"You look amazing, darling, fabulous," the photographer praised, snapping the pictures.
"She wouldn't have wanted it any other way," Louis said, as they focused on the photoshoot.
In the bedazzled lingerie, you posed provocatively, the male models surrounding you. Your fangs out, lightly pressed against the model's neck for the photo.
The model tried blinking away the headache, unable to see Armand glaring, using his powers against the young man.
You were above all these mortals, yet you allowed them to touch you so freely. You and Louis were more willing to work alongside the humans, allowing them a safe space, to feel comfortable, he would never.
"And that is it, I think we're done," the photographer announced, as your team clapped.
"Great, thank you all for coming," you said, pecking the cheek of the model your teeth were pressed against.
You could feel the intense gaze from your companions, territorial and envious. Standing, you walked in front of them, the staff eyed you in fascination seeing you move so fast. Since Lestat had revealed himself, Louis had been quite stressed. He had no intentions of getting back with the blonde hotshot, but he still cared deeply for him.
Mortals didn’t believe the authenticity of his claim to be a vampire, while the elders were furious. Out of love for your companion, and the thrill of living life on the edge, you revealed your own identity, taking some of the spotlight off of him and shifting it to yourself.
If you were going to break the ancient laws, why not go all the way out and serve cunt while doing so. Becoming the next biggest Pop sensation, you were sure to cross all boundaries, and the best part of all of this, you were elusive, untouchable by almost all vampires. Being with Armand and Louis, others were scared to even look your way, despite their desire to see your demise. The next Madonna? Britney? Gaga? Rihanna? no, you were better. You were selling sex, covered in a catchy beat and raunchy choreography, and the world was eating it up.
"You two looked a little close," Armand pointed out, while Louis stared at the model, as he slipped back into a shirt.
“Stop it,” you grabbed their jaws, forcing them to look at you.
"Don't I look tasty?" you changed the subject.
"Yes, although, I wished you would have worn something less revealing for our...guests"
"I thought you liked it when I showed off, Louis, do you like my outfit?" you nuzzled your nose against his own, as his hand went around your waist. Taking in your scent, he nodded.
"I never said I did not like it, or that you did not look ravishing," Armand recanted, wrapping an arm around you.
“I think you could show better than you could tell me,” you smirked. Closing your eyes, you hummed, feeling the pairs of lips against your skin.
“Beautiful,” Louis whispered, as he continued kissing along your neck.
“The most perfect,” Armand added, moving from your neck to your lips.
“I want both of you,” you said, in between the sweet kisses, hearing Louis’s low groan.
Armand was about to command the team to leave the penthouse. They had private business to tend to with you, when your assistant, Joy, came walking in, clearing her throat.
"My apologies, your reporter, he has arrived," she said, as the two men slowly pulled away. Your silk robe, flew across the room, into Armand's hands, before he began to place it onto your body.
“Aw, and I wanted to show him my outfit,” you laughed as Armand looked at you, the idea infuriated his thoughts.
“You've shown off enough today,” Louis said, going to tie the robe closed.
"Let him in," you said, giving them both a kiss of reassurance.
However, you ended up humming in approval, as the tall man entered, he seemed too handsome to be a reporter, a Clark Kent archetype.
"I'm Robert, it is a pleasure to meet you, Vogue is extremely eager to work with you," he held out his hand for you.
"The pleasure is all mine," you winked, snickering as he backed up, glancing at the two figures behind you. You could feel Armand’s icy glare, mixed with Louis’s judgmental frown.
"Don't mind them, they won't bite, will you?" You asked them. They remained motionless for a moment, contemplating simply shredding the guy into pieces, his thoughts loud, staring at your legs, your cleavage, the rouge lipstick.
"No," Louis said, he was usually first to give in. He was loyal as they came, too focused on pleasing you to go against you.
"Armand?" You turned to your maker. He stared emotionless at Robert, who uncomfortably shifted under his gaze.
"Love, tell Robert you won't hurt him," you said, as you held his jaw, his eyes shifting to you, softening.
"I won't," he agreed.
"See, they are very well behaved, they just don't like to share, we can go into the living room, it was recently redecorated," you exclaimed, intertwining Robert's arm with your own, while they followed behind, trying to swallow their burning jealousy.
Sitting across from you, the three of you stared at Robert, watching as he pulled out his notes and laptop before he cleared his throat.
"We have been thrilled about your willingness to work with Vogue, you are very inspiring to many artists, the youth, and I'm sure other vampires. I have questions from our team and you can answer them freely, and whatever is too uncomfortable, you just let me know"
"Okay," you nodded, crossing your legs, smirking as he looked, gulping as the robe rose slightly.
'Let's start with your persona, you claim to be a vampire, is this in any way connected to the rockstar, Lestat-
"No, he is not the only vampire to exist, my maker, is much older than him. I will admit, the ancient laws, so sacred and honored, are boresome, I think the both of us would agree," you said, pausing, as he typed your words.
"Ancient laws, could you elaborate for us... mortals?"
"Think of it like our commandments, no writing about vampirism, killing other vampires, don't turn children, no revealing your nature, and allowing the person to live. I could go further, but it's all incredibly uninteresting to me," you shrugged.
"How many others like you are there?"
"I'm not sure, I don't keep count of every vampire there is," you said, as you and Louis shared a chuckle.
"Will you only ask her questions about vampirism?" Armand asked, a frown already forming.
"It's fine," you told him, as he interlocked his fingers with your own.
"Um, your career, were you always into music, or was it a passion that came over time with your gift?"
"Oh, I've always had quite the stage presence, throughout my years in high school, I think I managed to play lead in every play. Also, there was a lounge near the apartments I lived in before I turned, I performed there regularly"
"Were you pursuing a music career?”
"Not really, I knew it was something I was good at, I mean, I was great at acting and singing, but I needed more than hope and a childish dream to pick up my entire life, to try to achieve either"
"Please forgive my questioning, but since you've revealed yourself, many are fearful of your potential eating habits, any comment?"
"I cannot speak for all vampires, but my maker, companion, and I all receive blood in the most cruelty-free way. Yes, we are technically able to do these things but there are better things to do than picking up random people to kill"
"Your maker? The person, or I should say vampire, who turned you?"
"Yes"
"Who is your maker?"
"Armand," you said, watching the emotion leave his face, as he briefly glanced at him.
"If possible, could you tell us a backstory maybe your previous months, leading to your transformation”
"No," Armand interrupted, before you whispered into his ear, Robert was interested in knowing what you could have said leaving the vampire much more relaxed than before.
“I was born in a small town, less than 5,000 people. Everyone knew everyone, and they all seemed to follow the same customs, until me. My mother told me when I was a child, she knew then, I would be a star, but my daddy thought differently…”
“I swear, if she is in here, I’m beating her into next week,” your father, Joseph said, turning off the car.
“Joseph,” Sandra, your mother screamed.
“This isn't a grocery store, first she's missing church, now she is a liar,” he said, getting out of the car, his wife scrambling to follow him.
It was your mother who convinced him to let you have a job in the first place. You had been working at the next town over, for about two years now. You were able to purchase your own car and save money. The problem came in because you broke your end of the deal. You got the cashier job, but you still had to continue with church and choir with your family.
However, your parents didn't even know you didn't work at a grocery store. You managed to find a nice bar, willing to pay tips and you got to perform. Dressing up, you were able to sing and dance whatever your heart desired, as long as the lustful men got to watch you.
Easter Sunday came and went and you were nowhere to be found, leading them to begin investigating the town over, where they heard about the bar.
You stand straight as Tiffany’s
Diamonds, Diamonds
I don't mean rhinestones
But diamonds are a girl's best friend
As you finished singing, you nearly fainted as you made eye contact with your parents. Your mother had her mouth covered, while your father held a look of disgust.
The music, the form-fitting dress, the hair, the make-up, you were practically a lady of the night, dancing for these men. Nervously bowing, you accepted the tips, before you approached your parents.
“Where are your keys?” you father started.
“In my bag,” you winced at his every move, afraid of getting one of his brutal punishments.
He was strict, and it wasn't uncommon for him to get physical if he even felt like you were trying to act unladylike.
“Get your things now, you can ride back with your mother,” he told you, hardly sparing you a glance.
Quickly changing, you explained your situation to your manager, and before you knew it, you were awkwardly sitting in the passenger seat, as your mother drove you home.
“He’s going to kill me, mommy,” you whispered.
“Why would you do this, Y/n, dressed like that, tempting those men,” she stressed.
“You always said I was meant to be a star-
“That doesn't mean dress like Marilyn Monroe, of all people, she has a terrible legacy, is that what you want? To be seen as a sex symbol by all of those men?” she asked. Yes. Yes, you did, your embarrassing daddy issues made you crave the attention of men. If using your body and looks made them fall to their knees, you didn't care.
“I’m sorry-
“You’ll have to tell that to your father,” she cut you off.
“I’m 20, how long am I supposed to let him spank me as if I am a child,” you raised your voice at her. She didn't say anything the rest of the drive, pulling into the driveway.
Your father stood, leaning against your car, and as soon as your mother parked, he took long strides towards the door, opening it, and yanking you onto the grass.
Trying to get up, your efforts were futile, as he grabbed your hair, dragging you into the house. Your mother kept her head down, unable to watch the sight.
“Daddy-
“I won't let you become so whore, you are a young girl and you need to act like it,” he said, taking off his belt. You sat on your knees, crying, rubbing your head from the soon-to-be headache, trying to mentally prepare yourself for what was coming.
“Open your hands,” your father barked. Holding out your palms, you winced, tears running down your face as the belt came in contact with your hands.
Drawing your hands back, he stopped you and roughly grabbed your wrist. Yanking your arm forward, he brought another lash to your stinging palms.
“You've been missing church to be at that bar, seducing those men like a harlot,” he screamed at you. You could see your mother looking away, too afraid to intervene. She never helped you, her marriage was first, and you were always an afterthought.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to sing, I was only singing-
“You sing at church. Not some bar full of lustful drunkards, you’ll learn, no more working, no more car, after this, you can reflect on your choices,” he said, as he began swinging the belt freely.
By the time he finished, you lay stiffly on the carpet, the welts already forming. You were too tired from crying and squirming to move around, but you knew one thing, you needed to leave as fast as possible. You couldn't stay in this small town and keep dealing with the treatment.
Forcing yourself off of the floor, you limped to your bedroom. Packing only a handful of outfits in a backpack, grabbing your stash of saved money. Once you were sure your parents were settled in their room, you snuck and took your car keys from your father’s jacket.
Running outside, you quickly started your car to leave. You had to get as far away as possible, and you could find a new job wherever you went. You had enough money saved to get an apartment, but as of now you simply wanted to drive, cry, and hope to end up anywhere better than this shitty town.
“You are in luck, my dear, we just recently finished cleaning up a one-bed, one bath - the only problem is it is on the third floor, and the elevator only goes to the second,” the landlord, Gary said, smiling sheepishly.
“It doesn't matter to me, I need a place as soon as possible,” you told him.
“Then we can work something out, you seem like a sweet girl with a good head on your shoulders, I won't do a background check, just finish the application and we’ll go from there,” he said, standing as someone rang the bell in the lobby.
“Excuse me,” he said, leaving you, as you tried your hardest to hide your smile.
After hours upon hours of driving until you finally stopped in San Francisco, and the first apartments you checked, you were already finding a place to stay. Gary, the landlord, was the kindest old man, everything you wished your father was.
As he said, the process went by quickly, and before you knew it, both of you stood outside of the door, as he placed the keys into your hand.
“It’s only you and the neighbors across the hall, but you won’t have any issues, they stay to themselves,” he explained.
“Thank you so much,” you told him.
“Oh please, dear, I hope you enjoy your stay,” he told you, turning to leave you.
Your living situation was now secured, you just needed a job. The sun was beginning to set, but perhaps there were a few places you could check- your hand instinctively went to your stomach as it growled. Maybe you could eat something first, preferably something budget-friendly.
Driving around, the lounge caught your eye, Midnight Oasis, and they sold baked goods! Parking your car, you made your way inside. The room was dimly lit, most of everyone's attention on the stage. A man sat, playing a saxophone.
Going to the counter, you ordered a slice of the velvet cake, along with a cold-cut sandwich. Sitting at the bar, you watched in amazement, as the man played the instrument. Back home, you weren't allowed to listen to music on the radio, it was the devil's music, your father had even taken it out of your car.
All you had was old vinyl, bought at the record store, and all of the albums you owned were from the sixties or older. When you worked, you grew familiar with a few artists you liked, Queen, Donna Summer, and Abba, just to name a few, but you hadn't been listening long enough for any of it to stick.
As the cute plates were placed in front of you, you slowly ate, watching the performance. The man playing the music was quite handsome and had strong features, dark eyes, and a cute haircut. He kind of stood out, he didn't look like the type to be in lounges.
“Is he an upcoming artist? He's really good,” you asked the nearby bartender.
“Christopher? No, he's just a regular, the tips are nice so he keeps coming back,” she laughed.
“He doesn't work here?” you asked surprised.
“No, you sign up and the stage is yours for nearly an hour, you can do music, stand up, dance, whatever,” she said, as she cleaned the glasses.
“How do I sign up?” you asked, interested in the idea of easy tips.
“Sign that paper, I don't think anyone else has signed up, so you may be next,” she pointed out by the cash register.
“Thank you,” you said, going to the cashier to pay for your meal, along with signing the paper.
“Oh, you actually signed up,” the bartender said, surprised as you came back.
“Yeah, could I have two shots of…do you have whiskey?” you asked, taking out a few bills to pay.
Quickly making the shots, she slid them to you, watching as you reached for them.
“To new beginnings,” you mumbled to yourself. Throwing each shot to the back of your throat, you grimaced at the burning sensation, shaking your head sourly.
“That was Christopher with his self-written piece, next up, Y/n,” the cashier announced with a microphone. Exhaling, you took off your jacket and purse, revealing the shirt you'd cut into a crop top with daisy dukes.
“Could I leave this here?” you asked her, sitting it on the counter as she nodded.
Walking through the crowd, you could already feel the alcohol warming your body. You smiled at the variety of men, as their eyes widened, watching you walk past. Making eye contact with Christopher, you looked him up and down, moving to the microphone, while he walked off of stage.
“Hey,” you called out to him, biting your lip as he looked back at you.
“Do you play piano?”
“Yeah,” he nodded.
“Could you…” you motioned.
“Sure,” he grinned, coming back on stage.
“Do you know Natural Woman?”
“Uh, yes,” he nodded.
“Okay, follow along,” you chuckled, grabbing the microphone from its stand.
Lookin’ out on the morning rain, I used to feel so uninspired-
As you started singing, he began to press the keys, and the crowd of men began whistling, wooing you. Continuing to sing, you walked from the stage, passing a few of the men, swaying your hips. The performance seemed to catch the attention of nearly all of the employees, hearing how rowdy the audience was getting.
Sitting on one of the many tables, you looked down at both of the brown-skinned men. They stared at you as if you were prey, and in a twisted way, it only made you more confident in your appearance.
Hoping up, you went back to the stage was the song was coming to an end, dramatically bowing as everyone cheered for you. The staff, the audience, security, even people that had been walking by had came in to hear your voice.
“You were amazing,” Christopher started, as he stood up.
“I know,” you laughed.
“Are you new in the area? Maybe we could get lunch sometime,” he said, and just like that, he became unattractive to you.
“I don't know, it seems a little bit too soon for any of that,” you apologized.
“No, it’s okay, at least take my number, if you're ever bored, call me,” he said, quickly writing his number on a napkin and giving it to you. Grabbing his saxophone case, he waved, before he left.
Walking from the stage, you accepted the tips, from everyone. Thanking each of them with a wink, when a man stopped you.
“That was a beautiful performance”
“Thank you”
“My name is Donald Willis, I’m the owner of this establishment, and I would love to offer a position as a full-time performer. You would get paid weekly, along with your tips, please accept, we have been this crowded for years,” he said.
“Okay,” you nodded, excitedly.
“Come back tomorrow night and we’ll talk more, Miss Y/n,” he said, eagerly, walking away.
Going to the bar, you sat down, putting your things back on.
“You certainly know how to put on a show, and Donny offered you a job,” the bartender came back.
“Thank you, I’m so excited,” you beamed. Everything seemed to be falling into place for you, leaving home was one of the best things that could've happened.
“Brava, it has been a long time since I’ve seen such an eccentric performance,” you heard, making you turn around. Of the brown men, one was clearly black, but the other was possibly desi. They were handsome, with a hungry, and lustful glint in their eyes.
“You have a beautiful voice,” the second man spoke.
“Thank you,” you smiled.
“For you,” the brown man spoke, holding the folded bills, it had to be a few hundred, sticking the money in your waistband, you got goosebumps as his cool fingers brushed against your skin.
“I’m Y/n,” you spoke, they shared a smirk, before looking back to you.
“Louis”
“Armand,” you brown man spoke. His eyes felt like they were piercing through you and it only drove you crazier.
What was wrong with you? You loved men like your father, stoic, stern, a little evil, but what you loved even more was doing to them what you couldn't do to your father; break them. To have these scary men falling at your feet, there was no greater ecstasy. You certainly weren't a virgin, perhaps that was one of the many reasons your father was cold to you, but the distance between you both slowly was replaced by your nymphomaniac tendencies.
“Why’d you turn down the kid with saxophone, he seemed nice,” Louis asked.
“He’s not what I’m looking for, especially in a man,” you crossed your leg over the other.
“Really now?”
“Hm, I prefer older, mysterious men,” you batted your eyelashes.
“Is that what you think? You should get home, too dangerous for a young girl to be out alone,” Armand said, turning to walk away.
“I am not a little girl,” you told him, taking your purse, storming past him. You were too offended by his words to notice his smirk. They could hear your thoughts loud and clear, he could see the sass in your walk, this was the most intrigued Armand and Louis had been in a while.
“Hey, he didn't mean that sometimes he just speaks before he thinks,” Louis called out, trying to keep up with you, your humanly fast pace.
“It's okay, Louis, I appreciate it, not everyone can have the looks and a way with words, your loverboy lacks the latter,” you said, as Armand slowly approached the two of you.
“My apologies, I am very aware that you are indeed fully woman, I was only letting you know, that there are scary men who would give anything to hunt a woman with a face as cute as yours,” he told you, grinning as you mentally questioned why he sounded like he was from another time.
“Let them, I can handle myself,” you told him, looking away as his eyes explored your figure. He didn't even hide it, while Louis was more discreet.
“Hardly, it would only take one swift move, to have you against the car, if you knew any better, you would take my advice,” he said, making your laugh.
“Is that what this is? Your advice? You haven't been able to keep your eyes off of my cleavage since you introduced yourself, if you wanted me, all you had to do was say it,” you smirked, looking at him. He stared at you, before sharing a look with Louis.
You are the dancing queen
Young and sweet, only seventeen
Dancing queen
Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah
Singing loudly, you vacuumed the large rug in your living room. It had been only a few weeks since living in San Francisco, and things were really looking up for you. You'd been hired at the Midnight Oasis and quickly became popular, the money growing each night.
Louis and Armand, you didn't see any more, which bummed you out. After that night, what happened between the three of you, in your car, you hoped they would at least try to keep contact. However, you couldn't stay stuck on the same two people, which is why you had already been on a lunch date with Christopher.
He was there nearly every other day, and after a few conversations, you agreed to meet him for lunch. He was sweet, the stereotypical good guy behavior. He wasn’t your type, but perhaps it was what you needed, instead of the same men you kept dealing with.
The sound of knocking interrupted your thoughts, lowering the radio, you rushed to the door and swung it open. Raising your eyebrow, you were surprised to see Louis.
“Hi,” you said.
“Hey, could you keep the music down a bit,” he smiled.
“You’re my neighbor, and I’m just finding this out,” you said, your eyes widening as Armand opened the door across the hall.
“We’ve known about you for some time now, just been busy,” Louis said.
“I was wondering when I’d see you both again, I figured you didn't want to see me anymore, especially since you both thought I was too much of a little girl to leave your number, but woman enough to fuck,” you raised your voice for Armand to hear. He had been staring, unblinking with those piercing eyes, never once speaking to you.
“You practically begged for it, but you are a young girl and you need to act like it,” Armand said, your eyes immediately watered, his choice of words reminding you of your father.
“Shut the fuck up,” Louis looked back at him with a frown.
“Don't listen to him-
“I don't know what your problem is, Armand, but I have some news for you. I certainly wasn't begging you, shrimp. I’ll keep the music down, Louis,” you said, slamming the door shut.
Leaning against the wall, you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to calm yourself down. You had lied, trying to hurt Armand’s pride, he and Louis had been the best you'd ever had. You didn't understand what was his problem though. His eyes showed that he yearned for your attention, but the first time he saw you in nearly a month, he said something so mean.
The next morning, opening your door, you were shocked to see the bouquet. A small card, simply stating, “sorry”, not even a name. Balling up the note, you angrily took the flowers and tossed them in the trash.
As much as you were attracted to these men, it was best to do them the same thing they had done to you, leave them in the past. There were too many options for you to be stuck on two men you didn't know.
You began avoiding them like the plague, going to work and coming home. Occasionally, you made plans, but you mostly stayed in your apartment or at your job. Christopher because a recurring person in your life, and you didn't mind, if it meant the two would leave your thoughts.
I love to love you, baby
I love to love you, baby
I love to love you, baby
Finishing the Donna Summer song, you waved, facing Christopher as he pulled you into a hug. Rocking left to right, his hand rested on your lower back. Pulling away, you accepted the tips, before the both of you were at the bar.
“You did amazing, you always do, I don't think I've ever met anyone like you,” he confessed, his eyes shifting from your eyes to your lips. Laughing, you leaned close, pecking his lips.
“Would you like to come to my place?” you asked, tilting your head. Eagerly nodding, he stood as you held his hand, leading him to his car.
Back in the apartments, Louis leaned against the wall, and Armand sat on the sofa, trying to stop himself from destroying the area out of jealousy. They could hear you, loud and clearly. Your moans, giggles, the sound of the bed, he couldn't stop his leg from shaking.
“You can't be jealous, after what you did,” Louis told him.
“What have I done?”
“You were all inside her brain and used those words against her”
“You were in her thoughts as well, and I was trying to create distance between us, it will either be death or she is turned, if we reveal our identity. Something about her is very special, and I don't know if she should have the dark gift,” he confessed, grimacing as you whispered the saxophone boy’s name.
“That would be up to her to make that decision, I like her and I know you do too, so there is no reason for you to act like that, when you could just try to get to know her, outside of invading her thoughts,” Louis told him. It sounded very easy, but Armand couldn't help that he ended up saying the wrong thing.
Standing up, he could hear the two of you getting dressed, and soon your door opened, and you walked the boy to the stairs. Just as you were coming back, Armand opened the door, staring at you.
“Can I help you?” you rolled your eyes.
“You were loud,” he lied.
“Okay? Turn on the radio to drown me out,” you said, gasping as he was in front of you within a span of a blink.
“You choose to live vivaciously through your daddy issues-
“Excuse me?”
“When you are worthy of more than this,” he said, his eyes briefly looking down at the robe. Staring into his eyes, you smashed your lips into his own. Naturally, he picked you up, his hands moving down your back to your bottom. You moaned lightly in the kiss when suddenly, you slapped him.
He could see the tears building up in your eyes as you ran into your apartment, slamming the door. Looking back, he shared a look with a very disappointed Louis.
“You live vivaciously through your daddy issues, why the hell would you say that?” he asked Armand, as he came back into their apartment.
“I was trying to be nice-
“By bringing up trauma? When the hell has that ever worked for anyone?” Louis stressed, going into their shared room. Armand seemed like a lost cause, any possibility that he and his companion had to see or experience you again, was dropping, quickly.
“Wait, so you had a threesome with your neighbors? They're not gay?” Christopher asked. He had become a regular at your apartment, oftentimes cuddling, talking, being intimate. In a way, he seemed like your boyfriend without the title.
“Not completely, obviously, because it happened, but Armand has been the biggest asshole ever since, it really has been too much,” you shook your head.
“Do you want me to tell him to back off?” Christopher asked.
“No, he has been keeping his distance, hold on, I need to give Gary my rent,” you gasped, remembering that he said he would be out of time for two weeks.
“You want me to come?” he said, watching as you slipped into the pajama pants and slippers, grabbing the check.
“No, it's fine, I will only be a few minutes,” you said, going to the stairs.
Making your down to the lobby, you rang the bell, hearing Gary call out, one second. Leaning against the counter, you patiently waited, jumping as your name was called.
“Y/n, how are you?” Louis asked as he and Armand entered the building.
“I’m okay, you?”
“Great,” he smiled at you.
“Y/n, I-I would like to apologize for my actions towards you, how I spoke to you is inexcusable, I spoke wrongfully one too many times without thinking,” Armand confessed. You didn't say anything, staring at him.
“Gary, I’d like to pay Y/n’s rent this month,” He said.
“No, I don't need you to do that,” you refused.
“I insist, think of it as payment for the emotional distress I’ve caused,” he said, counting out a few hundred dollars, and handing them to Gary, as soon as he came from his office.
“You can spend your money on something nice,” Louis told you, as Gary looked at you.
“That is very kind of you two,” Gary nodded in approval, taking the money, and going to his office.
“You didn't have to do that, you could have done anything else,” you told Armand, your heart fluttered as he smiled.
“I told you, think of it like my payment for the distress I’ve caused you, I knew matter to speak to a lady in such a manner, but I let my tongue run loosely in the presence of a beautiful woman like yourself,” he spoke. Your eyes widened, surprised by his words. He expressed as if he was a completely different person.
“Well…apology accepted,” you said, making your way to the stairs, both of them following close behind.
“Would you two like to come over for lunch-
“We have plans tomorrow,” Louis spoke, feeling guilty as you mouthed, ‘oh’.
“But you can come over tomorrow night, do you play board games?” he continued, blushing as you smiled, nodding.
“Then we will see you tomorrow, after sunset,” Armand told you, as you approached your apartment.
“See you then,” you nodded. As you entered your apartment, Christopher looked at you confused at your smile.
“You seem happier than before you left, something happened?” he asked.
“Nope,” you said, your smile faltering as he stood up.
“I have to leave, I have class early tomorrow, I’ll see you later?” he asked, putting his shoes on.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll just see you later,” you nodded, letting him peck your cheek, before making his way out of the apartment.
Christopher made his way out of the complex, walking towards his car, when he stopped, seeing the familiar man, leaning against his car.
“You, again,” he grumbled.
“I need your help, you’ve gotten to know Y/n, and how does one grand sound?” he asked, Christopher pondered on it.
The man had approached him, some time ago, offering him money, to have access to you. The longer he declined the deal, the higher the offers became. Christopher had been trying to hold out because he did like you, but he was a struggling college student. From his understanding, in your hometown, you didn't have any plans concerning college, and since you had been in San Francisco you had taken all of the money he could have earned.
“What is your name again, sir?”
“Joseph”
“Alright, Joseph, I will let you know when we can begin planning,” he said, shaking the older man’s hand before getting into his car.
Meanwhile, Armand and Louis began getting ready for bed, undressing.
“You did good, telling her how you feel,” Louis told Armand.
“You don't think I overstepped?” Armand asked.
“She agreed to come over, so it worked,” Louis told him, as he nodded in agreement.
“Right”
“We just have to wait for the right time to tell her,” Louis said, as they climbed into their coffins.
After spending countless hours observing, they had determined that you were indispensable, the crucial element to their companionship. The apple of their eyes, from the way you walked down to your sassy mannerism, they would do anything, be anything, if it meant they could have you.
“Make your move, Y/n,” Louis taunted. It had been well over two weeks and you were beginning to form a friendship with the two males. Regularly hanging at their apartment whenever you were off or spending time with them after your performances.
“Armand, help me,” you whined, holding the cards close. You were losing terribly in the card game and with you asking for help, he immediately felt compelled, reaching forward, grabbing the necessary card.
“Why did you actually help?” Louis asked, as you laughed.
“Don't be a sore loser, Louis,” you pointed, before glancing at the clock.
“Oh god, it is getting late, I need to get dressed for work,” you said, standing up.
“You picked up tonight?”
“Donny asked me last minute if I could do it, you two should come, we can get a few drinks afterward,” you said, turning around. You caught a glimpse into their shared bedroom. You didn't know if your eyes were playing tricks on you, but it looked like a coffin inside.
“Sure, did you want to ride with us?” Louis asked.
“Will your boyfriend be there?” Armand asked, trying to hide his jealousy. Smiling, you stepped closer to him.
“I don't have a boyfriend, and no, I would rather my outfit be a surprise,” you smiled, backing out of the apartment, as Armand walked forward.
“Then we will be there waiting for you,” he said, taking your hand into his own, and placing a kiss on your knuckles.
Going to your apartment, you immediately began fixing your hair and makeup. Thinking about Armand and Louis, you couldn't help but smile, they were so interesting. A few of your colleagues warned you, claiming the men seemed strange and could potentially be dangerous.
You didn't believe that though, hanging around them nearly every day, despite how intimidating they were to everyone else, they were nothing but gentlemen to you.
Just as you slipped on your fitted dress, you heard a soft knocking on the door. Smiling, you were going to peek out and tell Armand or Louis, they had to wait. However, your smile dropped upon seeing Christopher. You hadn't seen him at all, for the last two weeks, he wasn't answering the phone, nor was he ever showing up to the lounge anymore.
“Y/n, may I come in?” he asked, unable to meet your eyes.
“Fine, you have some nerve, showing up after all this time, I was worried about you,” you said, letting him in, going to a nearby mirror to fix your lipstick, slipping your earrings into your ears.
“I’m sorry, Y/n,” he said, looking as if he would burst into tears.
“It's alright, Chris, no need to look so emotional,” you laughed, going to grab your car keys and heels.
“Forgive me,” he whispered, making you look back at him in confusion, when a cloth went to your mouth, roughly pressing against your face, until you fell unconscious.
At Midnight Oasis, just as Louis was parking the car, they felt weird feeling. You were in trouble, starting the car, then quickly went back to the apartment. Your door was shut, but by making the door swing open, they could see that you struggled only a little, knocking a few things. Picking up the cloth, it was obvious someone drugged you. Armand frowned, the cloth burning into flames before he stormed out of the apartment.
Waking up, you groaned, your head throbbing. Blinking repeatedly, your heart was pounding as you recognized your surroundings. You were home. Trying to get up, you realized your hands and ankles had handcuffs on them. When suddenly, your father walked into the room, Christopher behind him, with his head down.
You didn't know when you got here, or how long you had even been here, but you had to get out of here, as soon as possible.
“Dad…”
“You have no idea what you’ve put your mother and me through to get you back home, it was thanks to this young man, I was able to get you back,” he grinned, patting his back.
“Chris?”
“I needed the money,” he told you, looking away.
“And you, young lady, you’ve shown why you don't need to be away from home,” he said, as Christopher hesitantly approached.
“Your neighbors, they- they are some kind of monster, it may be best that you stay here,” he tried to make you feel better, as he showed you the pictures. Louis and Armand, both biting into people, seemingly killing them, fire, lots of it, as they burn the bodies. None of it was logical, you had no logical explanation for it, but all you knew was the two had treated you with chivalry and you weren't going to trust him when he had kidnapped you for your father.
“You’re wrong, get away from me, I hate you, I hat-” You dropped your head when your father slapped you in the face.
“Thank you for your help, Christopher, take your money and get out of my house,” he said, as he began taking off his belt.
“Mom, mommy,” you screamed, tears already piling up in your eyes, out of fear. Five months had come and gone, you began to live a life, free of this, but in his presence, you were filled with fear.
She came from out of their room, tears in her eyes, and she shook her head.
“Joseph, don't do this, this isn't the way, please,” she cried. You both knew this spanking would be worse than any of them.
“Shut up, go in the room,” he screamed at her, making her lower her head at his tone.
Swinging the first lash, you gasped, feeling as if your breath had been taken away. Falling over, your face landed on the carpet, as you took a deep breath, although he didn't let you recover, as he began swinging the belt harshly. You would die, you were sure he would kill you from this.
You could hear your mother crying, begging him to stop, you had enough, even Christopher hadn't left, watching the scene unfold. He questioned within himself if he had made a mistake, in helping your father. You lay crying quietly, flinching after each hit when the door broke open.
Armand and Louis walked in, and immediately, Louis was in front of Christopher, snapping his neck. He had given you up for money, making him equally guilty. Your mother screamed as you widened your eyes. Armand stalked towards your father, fire appearing in his hand, as your father backed away from him. Crouching down, Armand ripped handcuffs off with ease, caressing your wrists, then ankles.
“What are you two doing here?” you sniffled.
“Here to get the woman we love,” he said, holding your face.
“What are y-
“We will explain, everything, but trust me when I say, you will never be treated like this again, you will only know love, I promise you. Louis and I will cherish you, seeing you for all that you are, if you allow us to be your companions. Would you grant us the greatest gift, to be yours?” he asked, as Louis approached, crouching next to him.
“Yes,” you smiled, wiping your tear-stained face, as they both embraced you.
“You whore, you’ve defiled yourself, giving yourself to these demons, who have committed acts against nature,” your father spewed, as the two of them slowly looked towards him.
“That is something I have to live with, Dad,” you told him, slowly standing up.
“Do you think I am letting you leave this house after you have shown you love what is evil, it would have been better if you had never been born,” he said, pulling out a pistol from his waistband.
“Joseph, no-oh god,” your mother screamed, the most terrifying scream, as the gun went off. Holding your stomach, you looked down at the blood on your hand, before your eyes went to Armand, then Louis.
Louis caught you, as you began to fall, while Armand stood, as darkness covered his eyes. You could see the fire sparking from his hand, your vision going in and out, as he gruesomely killed your father. Breaking his limbs, drinking his blood, setting him on fire.
Louis held you, trying to keep you awake, while he searched for the bullet. Finally, as he pulled it out, Armand rushed over lifting you into his arms. Louis looked back at your mother, who cried hysterically, about to stand up, you reached for him.
“Spare her,” you struggled to speak.
“I’m going to make the pain go away, okay,” Armand told you.
“Are you sure you want to do it? I can do it-
“No, I got it,” Armand said. All this time, in San Francisco, he had been trying to push you away with mean words, to avoid this happening to you — but now at this moment — he wanted only his blood flowing through your veins.
Struggling to nod at his words, your eyes began to roll back, as he began drinking your blood, and before death could take you, he pulled away. Your breathing was shallow, slow, and unsteady, as you reached to hold his face.
Using his nail to slice his skin, he brought his wrist to your mouth. “Drink,” he told you, watching as you slowly began to swallow, holding onto his arm. Finally, after you had enough, you let go, laying back in his arms, as your eyes went to Louis, reaching to hold his hand.
“We will teach you everything you need to know, in your new life, but things of your former life will have to be left behind,” Louis told you, motioning to your mother. Nodding, you watched as he stood up, approaching her. She flinched away from him, but he grabbed her, glamouring her, telling her a fabricated story, before sending her to bed.
Despite still having a wound, your stomach no longer hurt, but rather churned. Armand looked down at you, Patting your stomach, he smiled.
“No worries, it is normal, and won't last for long,” he said, kissing your cheek.
“What are we?” you asked him, as your body felt physically exhausted.
“We are vampires and we will have an eternity together”
“Promise?”
“I promise”
“I’m sorry,” Robert said, genuinely feeling pity for you.
“Oh no, there is no need to be sorry, my father was a terrible man, as was Christoper, no different than Judas, it was unfortunate that I had been shot, but my maker and companion both avenged me, before I was given the dark gift,” you said, as Armand kissed your intertwined hand, while Louis kissed your cheek.
“And what of your mother?”
You remember as if it was yesterday when you got the letter in the mail. She was old, wheelchair-bound, and waiting for her time to come. She had sold everything and now lived in a retirement home. Louis had only wiped her memory up until the night you left, blaming her husband’s death on sickness. She wrote you a letter, begging that you would come see her, and out of curiosity, you showed up.
You felt bad for her, she couldn't help that she was brainwashed into the role of what was considered a good wife. However, when you showed up, first she praised how young you looked before she began to scold you. She couldn't believe you would up and abandon your family because of mistakes your father made, it was shameful, etc. You knew it was wrong, but you made her remember everything, a devious smirk on your face as you left the facility. She screamed that same scream from that night, terrified by the things she had seen and allowed.
“Her memory was erased and she lived the rest of her and died a happy old woman,” you smirked.
“After your time at Midnight Oasis was that the night of your music career, until recently?”
“No, I continued there a few more years and went on to do some behind-the-scenes work, songwriting, producing, a little bit of everything”
“Do you ever…do you ever think of seeing other vampires, or even people? An eternity seems like a long time to be bound to someone,” he managed to get out. You could practically see the steam radiating from Armand and Louis, as they stared at him. Laughing, you lay your head on Louis’s shoulder
“Not really, companionships are different than any average relationship, so the circumstances are really the same either”
“Miss Y/n, excuse me, but your meals have arrived,” Joy peeked into the living room.
“I’m afraid this interview will have to be cut short, Robert,” you told him, leaning forward, an enthusiastic grin on your lips.
“We will finish on Zoom, ciao,” you waved, as he blushed, packing his things.
“I will see you, then,” he said, unable to meet the eyes of Armand and Louis because of their harsh stares.
“Did you have to scare him?”
“He’s lucky he didn't get worse,” Louis said.
“Exactly, with his perverted thoughts, I should have ripped every limb from his pathetic body-
“If you two kill every person who wants me, who will fawn over me?” you asked them, while they shared an expression.
“Us,” they said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Obviously, but you like when I’m performing, being ravished with attention, not just you two but others,” you pouted, as you began to open the robe.
“Of course, but it is infuriating hearing the thoughts of everyone who thinks they could have a chance with you”
“Let them have their fantasies, it is on the stage that they can use their imagination, but you both know I won't be going anywhere any time soon,” you said, kissing Armand’s lips, then Louis’s.
“Promise?” Louis asked you.
“I promise,” you laughed, your pinkies wrapping around both of their pinkies.
“Miss Y/n, your first meal…”
i'm not sure about how i feel about this one, but time will tell…
#armand x reader#armand the vampire#louis de pointe du lac x reader#louis x reader#interview with the vampire#amc iwtv
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TAKE HEED AND WATCH
Luke 21:25 And there shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars; and upon the earth distress of nations, with perplexity; the sea the waves roaring;
Luke 21:26 Men's hearts failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth: for the powers of heaven shall be shaken.
Luke 21:27 And then shall they see the Son of man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.
Luke 21:28 And when these things begin to come pass, then look up, lift up your heads; for your redemption draweth nigh.
#Current events#He foretold us#So lift up your heads#Look up Church#Our redemption draws closer#The Father will let him loose soon#Jesus Christ#A More Perfect Tabernacle#The Son of God#Praise God#The Father
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CONFESSION - Part Two
Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader
Warnings: innocent reader, lustful priest, oral (female receiving), fingering, swearing
Readers Notes: You guys enjoyed the first part so much I wasted no time writing the second part! I hope you enjoy and there could be one more part coming. Not proof read, possible spelling errors.
part one
As the week passed all you could think about is what happened with you and Father Charlie during your confession. Part of you felt guilty for doing what you did, but another part of you enjoyed it and you hated to admit that you were looking forward to Thursday and to seeing him again. You had no idea what he could possibly have planned this time. He had spoken to you on Sunday and instructed you to come on Thursday after hours, so there would be no interruptions. You never had done so before, but you carefully picked out your outfit: a cute tan mini dress with florals on it and a cute bow that tied in the bust area of the dress and tan ballet flats. Along with your white rosary around your neck. You took one last look of yourself in the mirror before you finally headed out and made your way to the church.
Father Charlie was in his office waiting for you, his fingertips tracing along his desk as he thought of you and thought of your pussy as it glistened under the dim light of the confession booth last Thursday. He too knew the thoughts he had were a sin.. But he always knew how to absolve himself of his lustful ways. You had come walking into the church, dipping your fingers into the holy water and signing the cross before you headed toward his office. You thought a silly thing for you to sign the cross considering the sins you were going to commit soon.
You took a deep breath as you walked toward Father Charlie’s office and once you were face to face with the door you took another deep breath and quickly soothed out your dress before you lightly knocked on the door. “Father? It’s me, Y/N.” you said softly. A warm smile formed on his face when he heard your voice.
“Come in, Y/N.” he replied.
You slowly opened the door, peeking your head in at first before stepping aside. He didn’t lift his head up but his eyes looked up through his lashes and he slowly brushed his fingers against his chin as he saw what you were wearing and he smirked to himself as he quickly stood up. “Right on time as usual..” he hummed, eyeing you up and down in your little dress. You could feel his stares as you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes as you felt your face growing hot. He liked that. He liked how innocent and shy you were around him. He leaned against his desk and his hands rested against it. “Sit down, Y/N.” he murmured.
You slowly walked over and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk and you glanced up to see him standing before you, he looked handsome as always. You tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear nervously. “So.. uh.. What are we going to do today, father?” you asked in a mousy little voice. He had a half smirk on his lips.
“Well.. I thought we’d talk more about your thoughts. The dirty ones. Are you still having them after our last talk?” he looked down at you, his stare so intense.
You nodded hesitantly. How could you not have them after what happened last week.
“Mm..” he says softly. “And they’re still the same as you described to me?” he questions.
“Yes..” you answer softly, peering back up at him and seeing the smile on his face. He loved this.
“Mm.. Well, I think we should maybe take the next step into helping you.” he suggests.
You raised an eyebrow at him curiously. “What’s the next step?” you ask. He suddenly got closer to you and he leaned over toward you, his hands resting on either side of the arm rests of your chair and his hands gripping it tight. If you wanted to move.. You couldn’t because he had you trapped between him and the chair. You stared up at him. Your eyes meeting with such intensity, he licked over his lips as he studied your face for a moment.
“The next step is making those desires of yours come true..” he uttered in a low raspy tone. His right hand letting go of the armrest of the chair and reaching up to touch your face and you jump slightly at his touch as his fingers caress your cheek slowly. “Instead of you playing with yourself and imagining this man touching you.. I can help you.. I can give you what you want.” he whispered, the pad of his thumb tracing along your bottom lip. The very feeling of it makes you shudder in pleasure and you could feel your breathing growing heavy.
“Is.. Is.. that allowed? I thought priests couldn’t do things like that..” you mumble as you look up at him innocently.
He smirked and his face moved closer to yours and now your lips were practically inches apart from one another. “God wants this.. God wants you to give yourself to me. He chose me to give this to you..We must obey him, right?” he mumbles before his lips crash against yours, not even giving you a chance to answer. A soft moan escapes you as you kiss him back without a thought, nodding in response to him. You kissed him with such a hunger that you began to drag your tongue along his lips and slipped into his mouth, he moved his hand from your face and reached up to grab a handful of your hair and tugged your head back forcefully. You look at him with wide eyes as you gasp. “Do you want this?” he mumbles to you as his lips press against your jaw.
You let out a soft whimper. “Yes.. Yes..” you pleaded.
“Yes what?” he whispered in your ear.
“Yes father..” you whimpered.
He smirks and lets you go as he stands up straight again and he takes a hold of your hands and stands you up. “Take off your clothes.” he demands as he reaches up and tugs at the bow on the front of your dress until it unravels and opens up at the top just enough to get a peek at your breasts. You scrape your teeth against your bottom lip as you nodded at his words, not even thinking about questioning him this time. You slowly begin to slip your dress off and let it fall into a puddle at your feet and you step out of it, staring up at him as you stood there in just your bra and panties. He licked over his lips as he looked over your body and he ran his fingers up along your left arm which caused you to shiver. “Remove everything..” he whispers. You look up at him and you lock eyes as you slowly unclasped your bra and let it drop to the floor as it slides off your shoulders, Father Charlie takes a deep breath as he stares down at your breasts, biting his bottom lip as his eyes linger down and he watches you slip your panties off next. He runs his hand along your abdomen as he just stares at your body, his staring making you feel a bit shy and when you try to cover yourself with your hands he quickly grabs them to stop you and he shakes his head. “Don’t. You’re beautiful..” he says softly.
You feel the heat rushing to your face again and you smile at him. “Sit down, Y/N.” he mumbles. You look at him confused but sit back down as he asks and the cold leather of the chair pressed against your ass makes you shiver and you watch as he gets down on his knees before you. His hands run over your thighs, slowly moving up and down in between your thighs. He stares at you with such intensity in his eyes as he smirks. “This is a blessing from God.” he mutters. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, his hands feel so good against your soft skin and you breathe heavily as you watch him as he spreads your legs open and leans his head down so that he’s right in between your thighs and soft noise escapes from your lips.
“F..Father..” you say breathlessly.
“Shh..” he mumbles, softly pressing kisses along your left inner slowly making his way up to your pussy. Your eyes rolled back just feeling his lips against you. You couldn’t believe it but you were already wet and in desperate need to feel his mouth against your pussy and without hesitation as his lips grew closer and closer to your throbbing cunt your hands grab onto his head and you grip his hair between his fingers and he smirks to him when he feels you tugging at his hair and he sticks his tongue out and drags it up your inner thigh and he lets out a soft moan and now his hands grab your thighs and spread when further that his props your legs up over the arm rests of the chair and now you were spread wide open, your pussy completely on display for him and he can see the arousal dripping between your lips and you could hear a soft groan escaping from his lips from the very sight before he buries his face in your pussy and his tongue dives right in between your wet folds, he presses his tongue against your swollen clit and flicks his tongue against it slowly as his hands grip your thighs tugging you closer and you throw your head back in pleasure feeling his warm tongue in your pussy and you moan softly, gripping his hair tighter in between your fingers.
He begins to circle his tongue slowly around your clit, your wetness smearing on his face as he begins to lap his tongue around your clit and flicking it playfully before sucking on it a bit. You let out a soft moan and your head tilted back and a small “Mm..” escaping your lips. He pressed his tongue firmly against your clit again dragging it up and down and he glanced up at you for a moment to see you completely overcome with pleasure. He starts dragging his tongue down now and sliding it inside of you, pumping it slowly. You begin moving your hips slightly against him, tugging hard at his hair as your moans grew a bit louder, your eyes rolling back. Father Charlie was enjoying every minute of this that his pants were so uncomfortably tight from how hard he was now, he removed his tongue and slide it backup to your clit, and moved his right hand between your legs using three of his fingers he ran them in between your wet folds getting his fingers nice and coated in your arousal before shoving the three of them inside of you roughly as his tongue played with your clit and he now pumped his fingers inside of you at a steady pace. You gasped loudly as you whimpered between your loud moans. “Fuck.. Father…” you could hardly speak. His fingers dug into your flesh as he squeezed your thigh for dear life with his other hand and he pulled his head back momentarily and he spits on your clit and his saliva runs down to his fingers as his they continues to pump deep inside of you and curling just slightly to hit the right spots inside of you. You were so wet that his face was a mess with your arousal.
His cock pressed tight against his pants from how hard he was but he was too focused on pleasuring you to even think about himself. He’d masturbate after thinking of you to get himself off. You didn’t know how much longer of this you could take, your legs began to tremble and your moans were becoming extremely vocal and you could feel that funny feeling you felt before when you were close and now it was building faster than before and you pushed his face against your pussy and your thighs wrapped around him forcing his head there. It felt like the devil had suddenly taken over and now both his hands were on your thighs and he was moaning against your pussy, sucking, licking every last bit of you like you were his last meal. “F-.. Charlie..” you cried out. “I’m gonna.. Gonna cum.. Fuck..” you whimpered and you held him tight against you as you finally reached your orgasm and your body convulsed and twitched against him as you came hard all over his face. You could hear him groaning and mumbling and he let go of your thighs and pushed them away as he pulled his head up for air and he was moaning as his face dripped in your cum.
“Goddamn..” he groaned, licking his lips and then taking two fingers and wiping them against his face so they were coated in your cum and he stared at you. You felt like you were seeing stars when you finally opened your eyes again, your body felt stiff and tired now and you stared back at him and he reached over and grabbed a hold of your face and shoved the two fingers covered in your cum into your mouth forcing you to taste yourself and your eyes rolled back and you sucked his fingers clean like a desperate little slut. He watched you with delight in his eyes and he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and then put them into his mouth, sucking your saliva off as he stared intensely at you before he stood back up on his feet and soothing out his clothes and fixing his collar. “I think we really got somewhere this time.. In no time I’ll have you rid of those dirty thoughts in that head of yours.” he grinned.
You didn’t even know what to say because you were still in a daze. You slowly sat up trying to compose yourself as you reached down to grab your dress and he suddenly stopped you and made you look at him. Father Charlie leaned down and he kissed you softly. You kissed him back and when he pulled away you didn’t want him too and a part of you felt disappointed. He now begins to pray over you and absolve you of your sins. You stared silently as he did and all you could think about was how you wanted him more than ever and now you weren’t sure if this was helping you or making your feelings for him worse. But all you knew was that you desperately wanted to fuck the priest.
Tagging: @nicholasachavez @smokeymountainboy @arianatheangel-girl @theycametoconquertheearth53 @suspiciousmindsxo
If you would like to be added to my taglist let me know!
#nicholas alexander chavez#grotesquerie#father charlie x reader#father charlie mayhew fanfic#father charlie mayhew#hot priest#smut#fanfic
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Sins of The Flesh II
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC [Riley]
Wordcount: 3,000+
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Alternate Universe (Mike Is Alive), P in V, Spanking Aftermath, Mentions of Heaven/Hell, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Absolute Filth, Breeding Kink, Oral (Female Receiving)
A/N: Part One should be read first. Divider by fireflygraphics. I'm kind of embarrassed, but not really because y'all are nasty too.
“I want grits with a salmon croquette and chicken sausage. Can you get me a strawberry lemonade too? Their lemonade is amazing.”
Riley lay on her stomach in bed, facing Terry, who was propped up against the headboard, cell phone in hand. He rubbed between her shoulder blades, his touch gentle and soothing as he dialed up the brunch restaurant. Freshly bathed and wrapped up in one of his Marines T-shirts, she felt almost like she was floating. Having Terry there, being so attentive and caring, was exactly what she needed after their time apart.
“You want a side of bacon, too?” he asked, eyeing her with a raised brow. He knew her too well—she always said no, but then asked for some of his when the food arrived. “No, I don't need that much. Just a little bit.” She pinched her fingers together, mimicking a tiny portion.
“I’ll just have some of yours. You’ll share, right, baby?” She reached over lazily to rub his forearm, her fingers caressing the scar above his wrist. His expression softened as he gazed into her sweet brown eyes. She was so mesmerizing without even trying.
“Of course. Whatever you want,” he said, placing the order without the bacon but adding on an order of beignets. They were her guilty pleasure and he enjoyed tasting the powdered sugar that lingered on her lips afterward.
He tossed his phone aside after learning the total. “It’ll be here in an hour.”
“An hour?” she sighed deeply, “I’m going to starve by then.” After church hunger hit differently, and his spanking had drained her energy even more. She needed a nap and a big hearty meal to recover.
“You’ll be a’ight,” he grinned, shaking his head slightly as he laughed. "As soon as you take that first bite, you'll be saying it was worth the wait." Riley erupted into laughter, surprised at how predictable she really was. “Quit acting like you got me all figured out,” she giggled, tracing the lines of his palms with her fingers. “Today could be different, you never know.”
“You say that every week, babe.”
“I could change my mind,” she insisted, coming up with all kinds of scenarios—like missing chicken sausage or a plain lemonade that would throw her whole day off. The beignets could arrive soggy or without enough powdered sugar.
"You just talkin' to be talkin', huh?" He cut her off, tickling her sides until she was shrieking and wiggling away from him. She swatted at his hands, enjoying the lightness of the moment and teasing him back, “You know you love when I run my mouth.”
“You got a gift for keeping things interesting, that’s for sure.” He admitted, gaze drawn to her backside as her legs kicked up playfully behind her. The moments when it felt like it was just the two of them in the entire world with nothing else to worry about were her favorite.
“See? I knew you liked all this mouth.”
“Yeah, but that mouth is what keeps getting you into trouble, too.” He reminded her with a gentle kiss, his hands sliding down to her waist. Riley smiled up at him, bright and beautiful, and he knew he couldn’t deny her anything. Her parents had spoiled their only child, and Terry nurtured that spirit, indulging her in every way. She’d run all over him if he let her, which is why their little “checks and balances” system was necessary.
"Let me see what we’re working with," He tugged her closer by her arms, brushing off her protests as he lifted the oversized T-shirt to her waist, eager to examine his handiwork. She’d soaked in an oatmeal bath for half an hour, but her butt was still welted, bearing the marks of his handprints.
"Damn, baby, I really did a number on you."
Riley propped herself up on her elbows. "I'm fine," she assured him softly. "I needed it." The release had allowed her to shed the tension that had built up over the past week, though her body was still aching.
“Let me go ahead and put some cream on that for you,” he insisted.
Earlier, she'd brushed off his offer, insisting it hurt too much and that waiting until after her bath would be best. She groaned, realizing she couldn’t avoid it any longer. Terry was all about that aftercare—always checking to make sure she was genuinely okay. He reached into the bedside drawer, pulled out the tube of homemade cream—a mix of shea butter and aloe vera gel—and then settled in behind her.
He knelt on his haunches, positioned between her legs while she buried her face in the sheets. She heard the cap pop open, followed by the sound of his hands rubbing together to warm the cream.
She hissed as he began to work magic, his touch gentle but precise.
Her eyes were tightly shut, but she could easily picture his arms flexing as he kneaded her skin. He was as skilled as any professional massage therapist. She never questioned where he’d learned that skill or how he’d perfected it. She preferred to remain ignorant. The thought of him using those hands on other women, touching them the same way, drove her up the wall.
That primal instinct constantly gnawed at her, igniting an ugly possessiveness she couldn’t rein in.
The last time they went on a dinner date, she was convinced the older woman at the table next to them was intentionally dropping her napkin just to get Terry to keep picking it up. That lady took every opportunity to touch his hands, leaning in way too close for comfort. It didn’t take all that just to say 'thank you'.
Afterward, she told him she never wanted to go back, pretending it was because the tables were too close together. The truth was, she felt too embarrassed to admit she was jealous of someone old enough to be her grandma for no good reason.
Then there were the young women who couldn’t resist trying their luck. The same girls she grew up with at church would ask, “Terry, can you bring my donations in for me? They’re so heavy. Terry, can you carry these cakes in? Terry, will you come out to the car and grab these cans of soda?”
They knew damn well they were dragging their own donations in before he started showing up. So she made it a point to lag behind on Sunday mornings. They wouldn’t be late, but they also wouldn’t arrive early enough for anyone to take advantage.
And don’t get her started on the women at the grocery store; they were the absolute worst!
They’d whisper and watch Terry as he walked through the aisles. He’d bend down and reach for everything Riley pointed out, completely oblivious to their lingering. They clustered around when he loaded up the cart with water. It drove her so crazy that she eventually started ordering her groceries for pickup, insisting he unload them at home.
All that fine was for her eyes only.
Gradually, the burning sting began to subside. What had felt like a raging fire now simmered down to a dull, tender ache. “Feel better?” he asked, kissing the back of her neck. “Mhm,” she hummed lazily, on the verge of falling asleep.
“Yes. Thank you.”
He bent down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “I'm supposed to look after you. You don’t need to thank me for that.” She had a way of bringing out his softer side, making him feel more tender than he ever planned to be. “You had it coming, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it.”
“I told you I’m fine, baby.”
"Doesn't mean I can't kiss it better."
She bit her lip, wishing he would finally grant her the one request she’d been making all day. The waiting felt like a tightrope walk—teetering on the edge of cruel and unusual punishment.
“But I gotta make sure I’ve got all my bases covered first," he said as he helped her onto her hands and knees, applying gentle pressure to her back until she arched.
Slivers of light filtered through the closed blinds, bouncing off her moisturized, glossy skin. He watched, enthralled, as her hips swayed back and forth, fueled by all that pent-up energy. He couldn’t look away from the swollen, soft pink.
"Yeah, I’mma make it all better with a kiss." He pledged, carefully using both of his hands to part her open before pressing a gentle kiss against her slit. She panted, heart racing as he kissed her pussy the same way he kissed her lips—slow and sensual, taking his sweet time before sliding his tongue in.
He teased her with his words in between.
"You always taste so good."
"I missed this pussy while I was away."
"It's all I could think about."
"Such a sweet girl, baby."
Riley jolted forward, squealing in surprise when the tip of his tongue brushed her sensitive clit. “Don’t move,” He instructed sternly, grabbing hold of the back of her thighs. His tongue lavished her wet pussy as she squirmed; warm, wet, methodical, and engineered to drive her wild. Terry was such a fucking menace.
"Wait a second, baby," She tried to gather herself, groaning and shifting her hips, as if another moment would make his teasing any easier to endure. She bit her lip to stifle her sounds, but he wasn't having that. Terry wrapped his arms under her legs until he had her firmly secured.
"What did I say?" She struggled against his grip but found it was iron-tight. "Don't run from me," He warned like he didn't already have her pinned down and at his mercy.
He took full advantage of her vulnerable position, zeroing in on her puffy clit, sucking, licking, and devouring her like a starved man. She clawed at his hands, but it was useless.
“Oh God!" She gasped, convinced he was one of the devil’s soldiers, sent to torment and steal her soul. Nothing else made sense. She’d never met a man so skilled and deliberate in driving her insane.
“You good, baby?” She heard the smirk in his voice, certain that this was some new form of torture. The only time she caught a break was when he took a second to breathe, and even then, he was right back at it, pushing her limits all over again. His mouth was even more skilled than his hands, working her over soft and deliberate until she was trembling.
Terry was indeed a fucking menace, but she was his willing prey, moaning that it was too much while pushing her hips back for more. Her essence dripped onto his tongue and down his chin, sweet and sticky like ripe mango.
"I'm gonna come!" She wailed, grinding against his face.
Terry pawed at her butt, a surge of aggression washing over him. It took everything not to spank her ass some more. He stuffed his face where she wanted it, letting her ride his tongue until she creamed all over it.
“Shit!” she screamed, collapsing forward as her hips jerked uncontrollably.
The sound of his shorts falling to the floor faded into the background as blood rushed to her ears, drowning out everything else. Before she realized it, he flipped her onto her back, placing one pillow under her head and another beneath her back to ease the pressure on her bottom. He lifted her hips, positioning himself to slide between her legs.
The tip of his dick leaked as he stroked it, grunting softly as he tried to mentally prepare for the tight fit. Her pussy was still clenching down on nothing, hungry for something more.
“Come ‘ere,” Riley urged, pulling him down to her lips for a deep kiss and moaning wantonly as she tasted herself. She wrapped her arms and legs tight around Terry’s large frame, grinding down against his hard dick. Her chest felt tight with emotions that were too intense.
I love you to death. You mean everything to me. I need you.
Terry could ask her to do just anything in that moment, and she’d say yes without a second thought. She’d agree to have ten children if that's what he wanted. She wanted a permanent connection, something to bind them together forever—a family of their own.
"You ready for more, pretty girl?"
"I'll take whatever you give me," She promised softly, laser-focused on his big dick as he teased at her entrance. She was fatigued, but finally getting what she had been fantasizing about all week. Deep brown skin, mesmerizing hazel eyes, and a strong, muscular build that could surround her completely.
Her face contorted, brows furrowed and mouth agape as he pushed in. Terry pressed his face into her neck, letting out a soft groan as she ran her fingers soothingly along his back. "I love you," she confessed, unable to contain the emotion any longer as he began to move his hips.
Terry could barely think straight with her squeezing him so tightly, but he managed to work up to a steady rhythm, gently pushing and pulling until he was fully sheathed inside her. Riley gripped his arms for dear life as he occupied every inch of her.
“Can’t believe you thought I was giving this to somebody else,” He let out a loud grunt, thrusting deep. "I already got my hands full with you, baby."
Riley was his own little slice of heaven, perfectly crafted just for him. He never imagined he could love someone so deeply that being apart from her felt like he was missing a limb. As he slipped into her, he remembered how she had accused him of cheating when she was the only thing on his mind. Her sweet magnolia scent and those beautiful brown eyes—she was his master, and she didn’t even realize it.
"Fuck me," She ordered with the urgency of a drill sergeant, grabbing his ass and pushing him deeper. She wanted him buried inside of her. “That feels so good.” She growled out.
“Keep fucking me, just like that.”
"Fuck this tight pussy, Daddy.”
“I missed this dick so fucking much.”
“I’ve been thinking about it everyday.”
She didn’t usually speak that way, but something was taking over her, making the vulgar words spill from her lips effortlessly.
It had taken all his restraint not to give in to her earlier, but it was worth it for this moment. The way her heat molded around him, fitting him perfectly as she clung to him, desperate and wanton.
“You’re being so rough with me, baby!” she exclaimed, though there was no hint of complaint. Terry was manhandling her like a ragdoll, and she loved every second of it. Watching such a disciplined man lose control over her was exhilarating.
Terry tried to restrain his darker urges around her, but she was so beautiful when she cried. It only fueled his hunger, driving him to be even more aggressive. She clawed at his back, yelling out when his balls smacked her tender ass.
“I wanna have your baby, Daddy.” Riley confessed with tears in her eyes. She knew she had to be losing her mind, but she meant every word.
Terry’s hips faltered. “What did you just say?”
“I want to give you a baby. I want us to have a baby together. Can we, please?”
Every conversation they’d had about having children had ultimately come down to the understanding that they needed to be married first before starting a family. The pullout method, however dangerous, had worked for them thus far. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, but she knew exactly what to say to get what she wanted out of him. "I want to be the one to give you a baby, Daddy. The only one.”
Terry cursed, struggling to keep his composure. His own mind was foggy with love and lust. Her parents would be furious if he got her pregnant before marriage, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. They could go ring shopping tomorrow and then apply for the marriage license right after. It was just paperwork—he already knew how he felt.
“You for real?” He imagined her big and round, pregnant and filled with his child. Relying on him to help her tie her shoes or assemble a crib for their child.
"Yes!" she replied eagerly, her eyes shining with desire.
“You want me to make you a mommy?”
“Yes, I’m ready to have all your babies, Daddy.” Babies? She always had to take it a step further. The bare minimum was never enough for her. She was utterly spoiled, and their children would undoubtedly be the same.
“How am I supposed to turn you down when you ask so sweet?” Terry leaned in closer, his breath warm against her neck as he let out a low growl. “If you want my baby, you’re gonna have to be a really good girl and keep that pussy open for me.”
“If you keep giving it to me good, I’ll give you what you want.”
“I’ll cum deep in that creamy pussy and give you a baby.”
She was so wet that everything felt slick, her brown eyes glazed over with desire. He knew he should try to be the responsible one, but all he could think about was filling her womb and giving her the beautiful baby she was begging him for. “Tell me you’re mine,” he says, gripping her neck firmly, leaving her breathless.
“I-," The doorbell rings, and it takes her a few moments to process the sound. Terry doesn’t stop, sweat dripping down his face and onto her skin, mixing with hers. It’s as if he’s in a trance, unable to concentrate on anything but his mission.
“Oh my God,” she cries, pushing at his firm stomach for when he strikes a particularly sensitive spot inside of her. Terry forced her up the bed with each powerful motion of his hips, fucking her harder and deeper than he ever had before.
“Relax. It's probably the food," He crooned, brushing her hands aside. "I’ll get it, but I need to give you my baby first.”
“Oh my God,” She braced herself as the pressure built in her belly. Terry was driving himself deep and hard in her pussy like he had a point to prove. He really wanted that baby. With her eyes closed shut, Riley surrendered, pinching and pulling on her nipples until she was soaking Terry and the sheets beneath them. He held her down, ensuring she couldn’t escape as he flooded her with cum.
“Oh my god,” she repeated incessantly, like a broken record. All of his weight settled on top of her, their foreheads touching. She gazed into his eyes, the realization of what they had just done beginning to sink in. She didn’t have any regrets; she was eager to claim him as hers forever. Excited to nurture a child who represented the best of each of them.
Terry leaned in, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss that lingered as if he were trying to memorize the taste of her. When he finally pulled away, it was with reluctance, his gaze locked on hers. He couldn’t find any hint of regret in her eyes, and he certainly didn’t have any himself.
"Thank you, Daddy." She cooed, reaching down to stroke her clit. He watched, entranced as their slick oozed out of her. It felt like he was hardwired for it, instinctively wanting to fill her up again and push in deep. “Whatever happens next, I’m gonna take care of you.” He vowed, his warm hand pressing gently on her belly. He silently prayed for a favorable outcome, hoping it would lead to a little baby in the next ten months.
She brushed the sweat from his forehead with the back of her hand. “I know. I love you and trust you completely. I really want us to be a family.”
“We will be,” he said with a conviction that tugged at her heartstrings.
The doorbell rang again.
“The food,” she reminded him, gently pushing him back before they got too caught up in the moment. She needed a moment to catch her breath anyway. The tension between them was smoldering.
He cursed under his breath as he reluctantly pulled away, picking up his shorts from the floor and then his wallet from the dresser. She heard the faint sound of the door alarm as the front door opened, followed by quiet voices conversing while she stared up at the ceiling.
Her heavy eyelids fluttered shut. There was no way she'd be able to go to work in the morning.
Terry eventually shuffled back into the room, holding the tied bag in his large hands like a prized catch. “Come on. Let’s put something else in your belly before you knock out on me.”
Thoughts? Lol 😂
Tagging the people who asked for a second installment:
@sageispunk @avoidthings @megamindsecretlair @planetblaque
#terry richmond#terry richmond x black oc#terry richmond x black!oc#terry richmond x black reader#terry richmond x black!reader#rebel ridge#rebel ridge fanfiction
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They're his children of course. Richard still recognizes them; it's only been two years.
And yet...
Peter is a man. Still six months shy of his draft papers, but he stands, walks, sounds like a man. He always has a pocket knife, he tips his hat to all the females, he sings in a baritone that will only get deeper and richer. The tea he makes is decent, but sometimes he drinks coffee now. He talks about horses and crops and reads Augustine. He can drive a car. He gives orders, and expects them to be followed.
They all look to him, to Peter. Helen calls him to open a jar, Susan questions how her hair looks, Lucy runs to him in tears. As for Edmund, he and Peter are curiously joined, they turn to each other with their laughter, their thoughts, their books and newspapers and letters. As often as his family swirls around him, Richard sees them swirl around Peter, a habit, he knows, born of necessity, but that doesn't prevent it from being strange. Even painful.
Peter moves to take the head of table, catches himself. They both start to say grace, stop, glance at each other. Peter takes the newspaper over breakfast, and is a page in before he remembers. And every time he apologises. Each time he smiles at his father, and it is warm, glad, even benevolent.
One of the first nights, shortly after Christmas, Peter finds him sitting in his old armchair, staring into the fire, after everyone else has gone up to bed. "Dad?" comes the question, and he looks up blinking at the tall man, lamplight crowning him in gold, blue eyes deep and dark with knowledge and certainty.
"I'm not who I was," Richard says, a confession, the kind a father shouldn't burden his son with he thinks immediately, but then Peter is down on one knee, reaching for the mangled hand, tender with the three fingers as he clasps strong calloused palms around them.
"Neither am I, Dad. None of us are." Peter's gaze is earnest, bright. "But you are still my father. And I will always be your son. I am forever grateful for that."
It is as if a great burden rolls off of his shoulders, and he finds no shame in leaning on Peter's hand to rise.
When the holidays end, and the four go back to school, Peter says I love you to each of them at the station.
If Peter is a man now, Susan is a lady.
She sits straight, she walks gracefully, she can cook anything as well or better than her mother. She reads the newspapers with Peter, she scolds Lucy for coming home with twigs in her hair and a tear in her stocking and wet shoes.
She talks less than her father remembers, and there is a woman's sadness in her gazing out the window or into the fire. She is also very admiring of the boys in uniforms, and Richard requests her arm on the way out of church with a father's righteous sense of protection.
But she is also gentler than he recalls, she does not shy away from his injured hand, she takes care of him without making him feel as if he needs care. She sits on a cushion by his feet as she braids her hair in the evenings, leans on his knee as she reads aloud, and Richard thinks, Not my little princess, but a queen now.
At the train station, she kisses him goodbye, and he hugs her close, and there are tears in her eyes as she says I love you.
Edmund is the closest to unrecognizable, the once-obvious four year span between he and Peter seemingly halved. He greets his father wordlessly, all shining eyes and bright smile, and his face is so close to Richard's own it makes his heart break a little.
Ed is no more little boy, he is tall, slim, oddly graceful, but his handclasp is strong. He holds himself the same way Peter does, with squared shoulders and lifted head, but he wears that nobility in a quieter fashion. He's quick to see, quick to hear, quick with a wisecrack that makes Peter laugh out loud. He plays the violin now. He returns the family Bible to the living room with an apology for having kept it since the summer holidays. He reads Agatha Christie as a personal challenge, whispers to Susan in French, and his chess games with Peter are fierce battles of strategy that Richard cannot keep pace with.
In discussions of the war and its movements, he is sober and considerate, he meets each of Peter's moods with a balancing counter, he has a way of phrasing questions that pull out stories Richard had never planned to tell.
A few nights before the children return to school, Richard sits up in bed, certain he has heard a faint cry, and he slips away from his exhausted wife to check on his children, remembering how Edmund had suffered from night terrors as a child, imagining little Lucy inflicted with some dark dream.
But all he finds is shadows in the boys' room, and quiet whispers—Peter's apologies, Edmund's reassurance, and allusions to things Richard has no context for. He lingers by the door, an outsider in his home, until silence falls, and he returns with morning light to find them curled together in Peter's bed, Pete with an arm over Ed, and the father's love is bittersweet.
They have fought their own battle over here, on the home ground, Richard reminds himself. In their own way they have each faced terror and learned to conquer or be conquered, but perhaps he can meet them somewhere in between. Only time will tell.
On the train platform, Ed hugs his father tightly, gives him a smile, tells him to keep out of trouble.
Lucy is the least changed, though she too is taller and stronger, and her eyes are deeper. She still sings, still dances, still tries to make friends with all the animals, still smiles and speaks kind and stares dreaming at the Christmas tree.
She still gives fierce hugs, still climbs into her father's lap, though her head comes up higher on his chest, on his shoulder.
But then he finds gaps in his library, and Lucy returns the medical books with a winsome apology, she asks questions about his practices in the field, she winces but does not shy away from the blood and broken things he speaks of.
Then she recites long poems, words spinning off her tongue until they become half song; she dances swift and graceful, she and Peter laughing and stepping and clapping and spinning in intricate patterns to the swing song on the radio; and it is she who, breathless, quotes Byron: "On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined!"
Her comfort is both generous and thoughtful, and she strokes her father's hair with a motherly hand that makes his eyes sting, and he kisses her fingers, looks up at her to whisper, "Don't- don't grow up quite so fast, my darling."
When she hugs him on the platform, Susan waiting for her, the boys already gone, she doesn't want to let go, and there are tears on her cheek, that he wipes away gently. "Be careful, Daddy," she whispers. "Get strong. Take care of Mummy."
"Yes, little mother," he smiles back.
And then they are all gone, and he takes a cab home, weary of his still-recovering body.
He will have to learn his children all over again, he thinks. But he is proud of them still. That has not changed.
#mr pevensie#richard pevensie#peter pevensie#susan pevensie#edmund pevensie#lucy pevensie#pevensie siblings#fatherhood#my writing#narnia fanfiction#narnia
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𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 . . . hc .ᐟ ⭑ 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐰
⟢ tags — fem!reader﹒headcanons﹒domestic fluff﹒nsfw﹒mdni﹒smut﹒kinky rp﹒blasphemy
a/n: requested by… i’m pretty sure i remember who sent the req but not confident enough to @
you’ve mastered the art of meal prepping for him—chicken breasts, egg whites, protein shakes etc. he’ll sneak up to you from behind while you’re cooking, kissing the top of your head as a thank you.
his “controversial” youtube channel, where he films fitness and cycling classes, is something you secretly love to watch him record. you’ll often peek from the doorway as he’s filming, watching as he passionately leads the class, shirtless and full of energy, talking about strength and spirituality.
the two of you have a growing collection of houseplants that charlie swears he’s responsible for watering (even though you know you do most of it). he’s also been talking about getting a pet dog—and he gets excited just thinking about it.
you have a ritual of watching true crime documentaries in bed. he’d throw in some commentary during the episodes, pointing out details others would miss and making sarcastic remarks about the criminals’ poor decisions. you can tell he’s fascinated by the psychology of it all, even though some of his comments make you playfully swat his arm for being a bit too dark.
he’s dedicated to his morning jogs and always tries to convince you to join him, but on most days, you’re still in bed when he gets back, all sweaty and smug. he’ll kiss you awake like sleeping beauty and tell you that he’s already done your workout for you.
he’s super buff. strong enough to lift you effortlessly, and loves showing off. charlie would sweep you off your feet at random moments—like when you’re about to leave the house, or after a long day when he insists on carrying you to bed. he always jokes about how he’ll never get tired of it, no matter how many times you roll your eyes at his over-the-top gestures.
nsfw — mdni
after groundbreaking sex, you’ll be snuggled in bed, and suddenly, he’ll ask, “so, if you had to commit the perfect crime, how would you do it?” charlie loves watching you try to come up with a serious answer, and then he’ll one-up you with some morbid trivia or a clever solution.
one day he got his hands on a nun’s habit, and casually suggests you try it on. the whole thing was more than a bit blasphemous, considering his position, but you decided to humour him. as soon as you put it on, he was all over you.
confessing (in great detail) to him in the confessional booth about how you touched yourself when he’s not there.
christening your shared apartment by fucking you in every room, and on every available surface.
when you’ve ran out of surfaces, it extended to the church.
he has fucked you in the confessional booth at least once.
charlie has crazy stamina—partly because he works out and partly because he’s “blessed by god”.
you have a stash of homemade porn videos that you’ve filmed together.
talked you into wearing vibrating panties to mass. sitting in the front row for him to admire the tiny expressions in your face.
using holy anointing oil to give you full-body massages.
rehearsing his sermons while you cockwarm him.
charlie likes to leave the bathroom door slightly ajar when he’s taking a shower, knowing you’ll peek in. more than often, you join him, the sound of your clothes dropping to the floor muted by the running water. steam fogs up the bathroom as his hands find their way to your hips, pulling you under the water.
he’d scoop you up in his arms, pinning you securely between him and the wall. you’d cling onto charlie like a koala, wrapping your legs around his waist while kissing him, fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you back with equal fervour, him slipping his tongue past your lips and exploring your mouth lazily.
when he senses your impatience—the telltale tightening of your grip on his hair or the small whine that passed between your connected lips, he’d waste no time lining himself to your entrance and filling you with one deep thrust.
MLIST fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.
#grotesquerie#charlie mayhew#father charlie mayhew#charlie mayhew x reader#charlie mayhew x y/n#charlie mayhew smut#nicholas alexander chavez#nicholas chavez
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