#and then one thing leads to another and he kisses me and i was like kind of trying to be like nooo we're just friends I'm in a relationship

[archiveofvirtue]

doll!reader wants to take control during sex but rafe isn’t gonna submit that easily, so she has to find another way

cw ⎯⎯ nsfw, established relationship, making out, turning dom!rafe sub, forced submission (?) kinda, handcuffs, praise, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving)

“hngh..feels so good rafey.” you hummed, your hips continuing to roll against his still clothed cock, feeling him getting harder the more seconds pass. His lips were still attached to the sensitive skin on your neck as he sucked and licked on your sweet spot.

Rafe was leaning against the headboard, his fingers digging into your hips, pulling you closer, unable to get enough of you. Just as his lips began to trail down to your collarbone you pulled back slightly, a mischievous smile on your pink and glossy lips. He gazed up at you, his ocean blue eyes filled with lust and complete adoration.

“You’re driving me crazy, doll.”

he murmured, hands still clinging to your body.

“Good.” you whispered, leaning back down to nip at his jawline, his stubble slightly rough against your soft lips. As your kisses trailed down his neck, something in you shifted. You hadn’t planned for it to unfold like this, feeling kinda strange. Usually, Rafe was the one in charge, his dominant nature pulling you into submission so effortlessly that you never questioned it. You loved the way he took control, how he made you feel small and cared for. But what if you, just once, took the lead?

You weren’t sure where it all came from, but you also weren’t scared to find out. Maybe deep down you’d always wanted to see how far you could push him, to make him yours like he did to you. As your heart began to race you realized that the idea really turned you on, the wet spot on your panties only growing bigger.

Your fingers slid up his chest, brushing over his collarbone before settling at his neck. Your grip tightened slightly, feeling a bit nervous and just adding a playful pressure to start things off. Rafe tensed beneath you almost immediately, his hands shooting up to catch your wrists.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, his tone sharp as his blue eyes locked on yours. You froze, and for a second you thought about chickening out, to just leave it to him, but then a new found courage came rushing through you. “Just trying something new..”

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh, loosening his hold on your wrists but keeping them steady. "Doll, that's not really my thing. You know I'm not into—"

"Please," you interrupted, your voice a mixture of pleading and determination. Your hands moved to cup his face instead, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "Rafe, I promise l'll make you feel good.“

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to weigh your words. Rafe wasn't used to giving up control—not to anyone, and most of the time not even to you. But the way you looked at him, your big, hopeful eyes and your sweet pout, made it impossible for him to say no. You were his doll, his everything, and despite his doubts, he didn't want to disappoint you.

"Fine," he finally gave in. "But don't push it."

Your face lit up with excitement, not thinking that he’d actually agree. "You won't regret it," you promised, lips brushing against his again as your hands adjusted their grip, softer this time, testing his limits. You could feel the tension in his body as Rafe fought the instinct to pull away, his breathing uneven under your touch.

"Relax," you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his neck, your lips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Let me take care of you." A playful smirk was plastered on your lips as you placed your hands on Rafe's broad chest, gently pushing him back against the pillows. "Just trust me, okay?" You whispered, your tone dripping with sweetness, though your eyes sparkled with something malicious.

Rafe let you guide him, his hands resting loosely on your bare thighs. "Why do I feel like you're up to something?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion, though he couldn't help but smirk back at you.

"Close your eyes," you instructed, voice soft but firm. The blonde boy raised an eyebrow, clearly hesitant. "y/n-"

"Just do it," you interrupted, leaning down to kiss him again, silencing his protests. It was a kiss that left him momentarily dazed, and when you pulled back, he complied with a small groan, letting his eyes flutter closed.

Reaching over to your nightstand you slid the drawer open carefully, trying not to give yourself away as you pulled out the fluffy pink handcuffs you’d stashed there, finally finding an opportunity to use them. The rattling and soft clicking sounds as you adjusted them immediately made Rafe's brow furrow, even with his eyes shut.

"What's that?" he asked, his voice sharp, the hint of suspicion growing stronger.

"Shh," you cooed, leaning down to kiss him again, but this time he didn't fall for the distraction. His eyes snapped open just as you had clasped one of the cuffs around his wrist and secured it to the headboard.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rafe protested, tugging his arm instinctively, but you were quicker. You grabbed his other wrist and clicked the second cuff into place before he could stop you. His eyes widened as he pulled at the restraints, the fluffy pink cuffs holding him securely against the headboard.

"Doll, what the fuck is this? Get ‘em off."

You sat back on his hips, earning a low grunt from him while twirling the tiny key between your fingers with a smug grin. "Mmm, I don't think so," you said, voice dripping with confidence. "You're not in charge here, Rafey. I am."

Rafe's breath hitched slightly, his jaw clenching as he looked up at you. There was a flicker of something in his expression— frustration, maybe even a little fear, but also an undeniable heat in his blue eyes as he registered your words. He was done for.

“y/n, I swear to God-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Swear all you want," you giggled sadistically, leaning down until your lips were just a breath away from his ear. "You're mine now, Cameron. And you're gonna sit there and take whatever I decide to give you." Your voice was unusually low, commanding, and laced with a sultry edge that made Rafe’s body react before his brain could catch up.

He squirmed beneath you, his face flushing as he realized just how much your words affected him. "Baby, come on," he said, his tone wavering between irritation and something softer, almost vulnerable. "This isn't funny."

"Oh, I'm not laughing," you replied, grin widening as you watched him tug at the cuffs, the muscles in his arms flexing uselessly. Your pussy clenching at the sight, he was so unbelievably hot like this. You reached out, brushing your fingers along his jawline.

"Baby.." he muttered, his voice strained as he tried to muster up some semblance of control. But the way you looked at him, the power you held—it made him feel small in a way that was both frustrating and oddly thriling, feeling the buldge in his boxers grow. The way you were acting drove him crazy, thoughts running wild with all possible scenarios. It was all so new to him and seeing you in control definitely flipped a switch inside of Rafe.

You fully ignored his complaints, the outline of his erection definitely was enough for you to keep going, your fingers dipped below the waistline of his boxers, pulling them down as his erection sprang free. you held his already leaking cock in your hand, running your thumb along the tip before licking a stripe all the way to up his base. you repeated this action a few more times, then fully taking him in your mouth as far as you could go.

“fuck, baby..” rafe groaned, helplessly pulling at the handcuffs. you began to swirl your tongue around his cock, your hand wrapping around the inches that you couldn't get in your mouth. you continued to suck him off, pulling all the way off and then taking him back in. his grunts became louder, hips buckling up into you, while his tip hit the back of your throat.

Gagging and slurping sounds filled the four walls of your room, your saliva mixed with Rafe’s precum making your mouth move smoothly around him. You could tell he was close by the way he squirmed underneath you, tugging on the cuffs with all of his strength, complete trapped.

“You’re gonna cum for me pretty boy?” You chuckled up at him, hands replacing your mouth for a second as he watched you with hazy eyes, fully emerging into submission, nodding hastily. “Y-yes..fuck.”

You began jerking him off at a fast and rough pace, your hand gliding along his thick shaft with ease as you watched him twitch, quickly wrapping your lips back around his tip. Just as your tongue tasted him again you felt Rafe release, white ropes of cum pouring down your throat as you moaned, your own arousal running down the insides of your thighs.

Pulling yourself off him with a plopping sound you smirked satisfied, licking the corner of your swollen lips while Rafes chest was raising heavily up and down, trying to catch his breath. You leaned over Rafe, your fingers working quickly to unlock the fluffy pink handcuffs that had kept him restrained for far longer than he'd anticipated—or admitted he'd tolerate. The click of the cuffs releasing was followed by a deep exhale from your boyfriend as he brought his arms down, rubbing his sore wrists briefly, his lips curving into a slow, devilish smile.

"Enjoy yourself, Doll?" he asked, his tone low and teasing, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it that sent a shiver through your body.

You were unable stop grinning triumphantly as you sat back on your heels. “Maybe I did," you teased, brushing your hair out of your face. "And maybe I'll do it again."

Rafe chuckled, sitting up slightly, his movements deliberate and slow, like a predator sizing up his prey. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice silky smooth, though his eyes burned with intensity. "You did a good job, I'll give you that. Might even let you take control more often... if you're lucky."

Your confidence flared at his words, lips parting to say something smug, but before you could get a word out, Rafe’s hands shot out, grabbing your waist and flipping you effortlessly onto your back. A surprised squeal escaped your lips as he hovered over you, his body pinning yours to the mattress in one swift motion.

"Rafe!" You gasped, your cheeks flushing as you squirmed beneath him, your earlier dominance quickly turning into nervous laughter. "What are you-"

"Shh," he interrupted, pressing a finger gently to your lips before leaning in closer, his nose brushing against yours.

“You really thought that you could just tie me up and have your way with me without consequences..?”

my first time writing for doll!reader and im already obsessed with her and rafe’s relationship 🎀

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @starkeysprincess @drewspinkbunny @drewsarms @rafescokewhore @rafeslacy @rafesangelita @rafey-baby @nativegirltapes @maybanksbaby @httpsdrewstarkey @dolcekissy @moremaybank @cherrygirlfriend @beausling @cosmicanakin

[38livesalone-has3cats]

Too Early-- Konig(cod) x reader SMUT

a/n: omg omg hi !!!! this is my first smut ever so pls be nice i'm doing my best !😭😭😭 pls send in requests i need ideas and whatnot(should i make a masterlist/what fandoms i'll write for ??)

summary: the morning after Konig comes home from deployment, you wake up in bed alone >:(

**reader is also in the military and has a working dog named percy ! he's mentioned like twice**

word count: 3.3k

tags/tw: smut, basically porn w very little plot, switch!konig + switch!reader, reader has fem body parts, oral(m and f receiving), face-sitting, 69, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, light choking, mating press

You wake with a frustrated huff.

The bed around you is empty and cold, no Konig(your lovely fiancée), and no Percy(your perfect four-legged partner). You sit up and rub your eyes with a loud yawn.

You can hear your dog's nails on the tile as he sprints towards the bedroom. You let out a sleepy chuckle as you watch him launch himself onto the bed and climb up onto you. “Oh- god-” You laugh, petting and roughhousing with the dog for a bit. After that, you get up and pull on some shorts before stretching and letting Percy lead you to the kitchen- where Konig is standing and making some breakfast. He looks up at the sound of your footsteps and turns down the music he had playing.

“Ah, guten morgen, mein shatz.” He offers you a small smile.

“Good morning.” You huff, wrapping your arms around his waist and shoving your face into his back. Konig doesn’t react, continuing to use the stove. “What is the matter?” He asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You always wake up so early.” You complain, no real malice behind it. He simply chuckles. “Are you hungry?” He offers as he turns off the stove. “What’d you make?” You let him go and hop up on the counter. “Just some eggs and bacon.” He shrugs. He puts everything on a big plate before setting it down and turning back to you. “You hungry?” He repeats, putting his hands on either side of you on the counter.

“Not yet,” You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I jus’ woke up, unlike someone.” You tease, bumping your nose against his. Konig lets out a huff and brings his hands up to your lower back, where his fingers flex and trace shapes into your shirt(his shirt). “Maybe next time I’ll wake you up instead of sneaking out of bed to make you breakfast like a good verlobten.” He pouts, his breaths mingling with yours as he speaks. “Nooo-” You try to shake your head but he presses his lips firmly to yours, effectively shutting you up.

You make a noise against his lips as one of his hands cups the back of your head, the other gripping at your hip. You let out a breathy laugh when he pulls back for air, “I love you.” You sigh, tangling your fingers through his long hair, pulling out the little hair tie to release his auburn locks.

“I love you,” He parrots, letting his head fall down to your shoulder, “I missed you.” He noses along your neck and you laugh again, bringing your hands to his chest to push him away. “Konig! That tickles.” You continue to laugh as he lifts his head up, a big grin on his face.

“I am just having my fun, liebling.” He says, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Mmm, you’re having too much fun- it’s too early.” You manage to get out between kisses. “No such thing.” He says before moving his head down to mouth at your jaw and neck. “I’m barely even awake.” You murmur, your hands now gripping his shoulders. One of his hands suddenly reaches between your thighs and rubs his fingers along your clothed core, making you jump away from the sudden intrusion. “You feel awake to me.” He says simply, a smug look on his face.

“Konig.” You mean to say it in a chastising way but it comes out more as a whine. “Yes?” He mumbles, shoving his face in your chest, nosing the valley of your breasts over your shirt. His fingers press harder against you and you shift your hips forward slightly, your mouth dropping open.

He starts tracing slow circles over your clothed clit and you grab the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his long hair. “I want to taste you.” His voice is low, needy.

“Please.” You let one of your hands tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. That’s all he needs; he makes a pleased sound and pulls back just to pull your shorts and underwear down your legs. You lift your hips slightly to make it easier and he drops to his knees, letting the clothing fall to the floor.

Suddenly, Percy is headbutting Konig and trying to play- sending the 6 '10 man stumbling onto his ass. You let out a laugh as Konig regains his balance, “Lauf.” You instruct the dog through your giggles and he runs out the doggie-door to the backyard.

Konig lets out a huff, ignoring the ruined tension in the room; he grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder before pulling you to the edge of the counter. “Hey- easy-” You grip onto the counter to prevent yourself from slipping off. “I am getting impatient.” He says, a pout on his face as he presses kisses on your inner knee.

“I can see that- oh, f-fuck-” You barely get the sentence out before Konig is shoving his face between your legs. Your body jolts away from him on instinct, but he keeps his firm hold on your thighs, keeping you close so he can lap at your clit. Konig grumbles as you close your thighs around his head; he simply turns to nip at the soft flesh there and you yank them apart. He quickly latches back onto his target and you let out a high-pitched whine, digging your heel into his back to push him closer. “Konig- holy shit!” You cry out, letting your head fall back and exposing your neck.

Konig takes the opportunity of you looking away to shove a finger inside your hole. You gasp, straightening up and reaching down to grip his hair with one hand. He curls his finger once, twice, then inserts two more- all while his tongue continues its work on your bundle of nerves. 

It’s all becoming too much, and you pant wildly while your heels continue to press into Konig’s back- needing more, more, more. Konig lets out a chuckle against you and you groan, “Come on, Konig, please-!” He knows what he’s doing, the asshole. Finally, he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you, massaging your g-spot as he does. You let out a loud, high-pitched whine and he doubles down on your clit, sending you quickly tumbling over the edge.

Your fingers pull and yank at his hair while your thighs tremble around his head as you ride out the waves, slowly coming down as his lapping subsides. He breaks away, looking up at you with a goofy grin, the bottom half of his face shiny with your juices. “I swear, you taste even better than I remember.” He says excitedly, practically giggling.

You laugh along with him breathlessly, pushing on his shoulders as he climbs up and tries to kiss you. “S-stop! You’re all gross!” You laugh, your shaky arms unable to hold him back as he rubs his cheek against yours. You let out a loud yelp, groaning at the wet feeling on your face. “You’re so gross!” You pout, wiping your face with the t-shirt you're wearing.

“I think we have gotten much more “gross” before, have we not?” Konig raises an eyebrow, a goofy smirk on his face; his accent and what he’s implying sends another rush of arousal straight between your legs. You cringe at his words as he scoops you up, his hands under your thighs- your bare core brushing against the front of his sweatpants.

“Would you like to continue this here on the counter or in our bed?” He asks, but he’s already walking towards your shared room. “You’re not really giving me a choice.” You huff, letting out a laugh as he tosses you onto the bed. “I like it here more.” Konig shrugs simply, reaching to pull his shirt over his head as you scoot toward the edge of the bed, grabbing at his waistband.

Konig runs his large hand through your hair as you pull his sweats and boxers down in one go, exposing his long, hard length to your eager eyes. 

Konig takes a deep breath in as you pump his cock a few times, watching precum start to leak from his pretty red tip. “Scheiße.” He mutters, tugging on the roots of your hair. You grin up at him before taking him in your mouth.

You focus on the head for a few moments, swirling your tongue around and then suddenly taking him deeper. He hits the back of your throat and your nose hits the patch of hair that rests above the base of his cock. Konig makes a strangled noise, his head falling back as he groans. “H-ah, you are feeling- you feel so good, engel.” He pants, starting to match the bobbing of your head with small, careful thrusts of his hips.

He knows how big he is-he isn’t stupid- so he knows to be more careful during oral- no matter how often you whine and tell him it’s okay. 

Konig’s grip on your hair tightens and his panting turns to whines and whimpers. “Ah, gott, you must stop. Ah- I am going to come, bitte- I cannot take it-” He’s frantically begging, his cock twitching with the effort to keep himself from cumming.

You pull off his cock for a moment, looking up at him with a smug smile- Konig whines, but he’s relieved. “Thank you, danke, liebling.” He pants, taking a moment to wipe the drool from your chin with his thumb. “I wanted to taste you.” You pout, and he chuckles, tilting your chin up as he leans down.

You meet him halfway, rising off your hands as his mouth meets yours. You groan into his mouth as his tongue forces its way into your eager one, you reach up to grab onto his pecs- groping and tweaking at his nipples. He chuckles against your mouth, sending a fresh wave of arousal down between your legs.

“You are so needy today, shatz. What do I do with you?” He murmurs as you playfully nip at his bottom lip. “I think you should lay down and let me have some fun.” You suggest, letting your mouth continue to travel down his jaw and neck.

The air in the room shifts. “Should I?” Konig hums- testing the waters. His fingers tighten around your waist significantly as you dig your teeth into his neck. 

“Go on.” You murmur, pressing a smooch over the bite to soothe it. Konig makes a small noise of content, nodding as he moves away from you to lay down comfortably on his back. “You comfy?” You ask, your hands finding their way to his thighs where they squeeze and grope at the taut muscles there. “Mhm, yes schatz.” He agrees quickly, moving to sit up on his elbows so he can watch you.

You open your mouth, letting a glob of spit fall onto the head of his cock. Konig inhales sharply, and you watch his cock twitch with a playful grin on your face. “Keep your hands at your sides and don’t move or I’ll stop, okay?” You look up to meet his eyes and he nods, “Ja, yes- okay.” He moves his arms to his sides and lays flat on his back. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and squeeze it a few times to watch how his body reacts. His abs tremble slightly as he grows more desperate. 

You pull your hand away from his cock and watch as he closes his eyes and takes in a deep inhale. “Be good for me, alright?” You hum, crawling up the bed so you can swing your leg over his face so you're straddling him.

“Scheiße, can I hold you, engel?” Konig asks quickly, his breath fanning against your core. The feeling makes you clench around nothing, and you decide to be nice to him. “Alright, fine.” You agree, and his hands immediately shoot up to grip your thighs. They swiftly start to slide up and grope any part of your body he can reach as he waits for you to take a seat.

You intertwine your fingers with his, stopping his hands from moving any further; “Keep ‘em here or they’re going by your sides.” You put his hands on the tops of your thighs, where he experimentally squeezes a few times. “Yes, schatz.” He murmurs.

“You know the rules.” You hum, lowering yourself onto his face before he can mumble a response. He gets right to work, lapping at your pussy eagerly. 

Konig must not be in the mood to be punished today, because he does exactly as you ask of him- his hands don’t move from their spot, his hips stay glued to the bed, and he doesn’t tease. He steadily works you to your climax, his tongue fucking into your hole as he tilts his chin up to press it against your clit.

The friction of his stubble and the feeling of his tongue has your thighs trembling and you press your hips down harder against his face. 

You unabashedly moan as you continue to grind onto his face, his tongue making little shapes over your puffy clit. “So good- you’re so good, Konig.” You whine, leaning forward to grab at his hard member. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, making him cry out against your core.

You bob your head quickly up and down his cock, trying to make him come as quickly as possible. “Fuck- fuck, schatz.” Konig’s deep voice is muffled by your core as he starts to unravel. 

You grip onto his thighs, massaging and lightly scratching at them as you hollow your cheeks. Tears fill your eyes at the stimulation on your clit and the fullness of your throat. You pull off of him for a moment to catch your breath, stroking his cock with your hand as you pant; “I’m close, you wanna cum with me? Hmm?” You ask, keeping up your brutal pace with your hand.

He mumbles something you can’t quite make out, but you can feel him nodding against you, and he continues to eat you out with a newfound fervor. You figure that’s good enough of an answer, so you take him back into your mouth with a groan- making quick work to bring him to the edge again.

You don’t even have time to warn him before you're cumming hard against his face. You barely notice the way your juices drip down his face onto his neck and the sheets below him because his warm seed shoots down your throat. You choke for a moment before you swallow, pulling off of Konigs cock to cough and catch your breath.

Konig pays no mind to you or the fact that he just came, he licks up any juices on your thighs and cleans up your pussy until you're whining at the overstimulation. When you've had enough, you clamber off of him, letting yourself lay on your back as you come down from the high.

Konig sits up to look down at you, a dopey grin on his face. “Thank you, mein schatz.” He murmurs, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as the kiss quickly becomes more heated.

“I love you.” You manage to get out between the rough prodding of his tongue. “I love you.” He pants, his eyebrows furrowing as he nips and sucks on your jaw.

“Can I take you? Please, liebling.” He whines against your skin and you trail your fingers through his long hair. “Please.” You nod eagerly, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull his hips against your own. He wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance; immediately shoving himself completely inside with a relieved sigh. You moan out, digging your nails into the muscles of his shoulders as you recover from the sudden intrusion.

“Konig.” You grumble in warning and he quickly drops his head into the crook of your neck, letting you adjust to his size. “Sorry- sorry, engel. You just feel so good. So good, mein engel.” He rambles, mouthing at your neck as he waits for the okay to continue. 

 He holds himself up on his elbows, his fingers playing at the skin of your sides that he can reach. You run your fingers up and down his shoulder blades as you make him wait a little longer. You clench around him a few times, making him whine loudly in your ear, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly.

“Please, liebling- let me make you feel good.” He begs, running his teeth along the side of your neck, where he bites softly every so often. 

“Okay, go ahead, Ko- fuck-!” You can’t get the words out before he’s slamming into you at a brutal pace, keeping his forehead pressed to your shoulder.

You cry out, one of your hands grabs at his hair while the other grips his bicep for dear life. “A-ah, schatz, you feel so gut. Y-you- du gehörst zu mir.” He continues to ramble as he desperately rams his cock into you. “Konig, please-” You whine, pulling his face to yours to press your lips to his.

The kiss quickly devolves and Konig pulls back so he can grab your leg at the back of your knee, pressing it to your chest so he can press deeper inside you. You throw your head back and moan; Konig is quick to wrap his free hand around your exposed throat. 

He squeezes lightly a few times, the sensation sending a rush of fresh arousal between your legs. “G-god, you’re so good for me, Konig. Always make me feel so good.” You sigh, brushing some of his stray hairs from his sweaty forehead.

Your words seem to send a burst of energy through him; he pulls your ankles up onto his shoulders and puts his hands on either side of your head to pound into you harder. The sound of skin slapping is quickly covered by the sound of your combined moans as you two barrel towards your climaxes. “I only want to be g-good for you- verdammt.” Konig whimpers against your skin as he drops his head against you- focusing solely on slamming his hips into yours.

“Please, let me cum, engel. Ich brauche es- I’ve been good.” He continues, one of his hands slipping between your bodies to messily rub your puffy clit.

You can barely think- let alone speak- so Konig continues begging and whining against your skin as you get closer and closer to your release.

You realize he’s waiting for you to answer him so you try to hold back your orgasm to reply to him; “I- shit, Konig-! Yes, yes, yes- cum for me, please. I’m so close.” You babble incoherently, grabbing his wrist to keep him rubbing at your needy clit. “F-fuck-!” Konig cries out loudly, your words sending him tumbling into his climax. The warmth of his cum, his steady thrusts, and his harsh fingers on your bundle of nerves send you right over the edge after him.

Konig works the both of you through your orgasms before collapsing next to you with a small smile on his face. 

“I love you, mein liebling.” He murmurs, pressing kisses to your cheek as he patiently waits for you to come down from your high. “I love you, Konig. Thank you, baby. You did so well.” You murmur, brushing some of his hair behind his ear. He seems to grow brighter at that, his smile widening as he leans forward to nip at your bottom lip. “You wanna go get me a rag so I can clean up?” You hum, pressing your lips against his a few times before he can answer. 

“You think I am done with you, schatz?” The wild look in his eyes and that stupid grin have a familiar burn growing deep in your belly.

--

ITS FINALLY DONE !!!

holy shit this has taken me literal months to write i'm so sorry😭😭 as i mentioned before this is my first smut so it was so awkward for me LMAO hopefully it'll get easier in the future

thank you for reading !!!! <3

[imjuststen]

ten seconds

I've got the Dorym brain-rot, so I wrote a short fic to stop myself from exploding.

~

one

He kissed me, and everything stopped.

two

I felt the world crash around us when he pushed his lips to mine 

three

The worry, the panic, the setting dread of the task to come, disappeared as the warmth of his kiss pushed in.

four

Every anxiety from last night, that I held him too tightly, or said too much, or pulled him too close, melted away at the tender touch of his lips.

five

Bringing with it, every fantasy of the way things could have been. Every moment leading up to now, brought us here, together, at the end of all things.

six

Only he, amidst all of this, could make the worlds stop just for us, before they fell apart. 

seven

He had called me back, and I had come running. 

eight

He has always been my reason, and it is doubtful to me now,

that this is anything but love. 

nine

And after this is done, I won't waste another moment not showing him. 

ten

He pulls away from our kiss,

 a lifetime too soon.

~

“If we’re here tomorrow,

I’d really like to figure out…this…If you want?” 

“Oh…I Want”  

~

And I kiss him back,

with the weight of every moment that I wish I was brave enough to kiss him before. The gravity of my desire pulling my body into his.

I pull away, breathless, and rest my forehead against his,

savouring the fleeting moment we hold for each other.

And without speaking a word,

I knew we had promised,

that we would follow each other until the end,

wherever it would come to find us.

~

[rhiannonsknife]

Okay okay so hear me out.

Imagine the Yellowjackets are actually at the nationals instead of the plane crashing. And Jackie desperately tries to avoid r BUT the coach puts them in the same room for whatever reason, maybe shauna and jackie were playing around too much so as punishment shauna had to switch with r.

Now that they’re both forced to be closer than usual Jackie is genuinely losing her mind and her emotions are ALL around. Maybe they hook up, maybe not. Or they have a GENUINE conversation for once, which surprises Jackie..

You can do whatever you want with that idea, it’s totally up to you

— summary: secretly hooking up with jackie taylor. part 1. part 2.

— warnings: implied internalized homophobia & cheating. angst. hurt/no comfort because this is how things are done here. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni.

— a/n: enough with the jackie taylor fluff, back to the filthy lesbian sex + angst. you’re welcome.

the hallway of the hotel buzzes with the usual pre-competition chaos: teammates of various different schools all across the states scurrying between rooms, the sound of laughter and last-minute pep talks echoing off the walls. nationals. the peak of everything the yellowjackets had worked for all season. your last chance to win the thing as a team before most of you graduate.

obviously, jackie should feel excited, focused, and ready to step onto that court and lead her team to victory one final time.

instead, her stomach churns, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the pressure of the next couple of days.

“switching rooms is a terrible idea,” she reasons, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glares at coach martinez.

“this is not a debate, taylor,” he replies, voice clipped. “this isn’t summer camp. you’re here to win, not distract your teammates with shipman. now get your stuff and make the swap. it’s only a weekend”

jackie glances sideways, catching your eye from where you stand a little further down the hall. you’re leaning casually against the wall, trying to act like you’re not paying attention, but she knows better. you’ve always been good at reading her, too good for her comfort. what you’re not so good at is pretending.

she can see the way you’re watching the exchange, trying to hide the obvious amusement in your gaze as jackie tries to reason with the coach.

she’s been doing her absolute best to keep her distance, to keep things simple and clean. nationals are stressful enough without throwing whatever this is into the mix. but now, thanks to shauna’s antics, the universe has decided to test her self-control all over again.

with a resigned sigh and not another look back at coach martinez, jackie grabs her bag and stalks toward her new room.

you’re barely done setting your things down when she barges past you and into the space

“hello to you too, roomie” you mutter as you close the door on your own way in.

she shoots you a look, tossing her bag onto the other bed with more force than necessary. “don’t get too comfortable,” she mutters. “this isn’t permanent”

“oh?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “didn’t realize you had the power to override coach’s orders all of a sudden”

jackie’s jaw tightens, her posture stiffening as she stands by the bed. “i don’t,” she snaps, her voice sharp. “but i’ll talk to him tomorrow and get it fixed. until then, just…stay on your side of the room”

you scoff, setting your bag down with a little more force than necessary. “stay on my side of the room? what are we? fucking twelve?”

jackie glares at you. “i’m serious,” she says, brushing past you to grab her toiletries from her bag. “i don’t want any trouble”

“trouble?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. truthfully, you don’t mean to. but ever since you started whatever this is between you, jackie has been doing the same thing over and over: pushing you away, pretending like you don’t exist at all. she won’t even look at you in school. all you can do is watch when she’s with jeff instead, holding his hands or kissing him in the hall, for once not afraid of the affection

“you’re the one acting like this is the end of the world. it’s just one night, jackie. maybe try not making it weird for once”

jackie freezes mid-motion, her hand gripping the zipper of her duffel bag. when she turns to face you, there’s a familiar edge in her expression. “i’m making it weird?” she shoots back. “you think i want to be stuck here with you?”

the words hit harder than they should, but you refuse to let her see the sting. of course jackie taylor wouldn’t want to be caught in the same room with you if you’re not knuckle deep inside her simultaneously.

“right,” you say flatly, crossing your arms. “because it’s so awful being in the same room as me, huh? god forbid we have to actually talk like normal people”

jackie flinches at the unexpected bitterness in your tone, but she doesn’t back down either. “i’m just saying,” she starts. “this is nationals. it’s a big deal. we should be focusing on the game, not…whatever”

“whatever,” you echo, narrowing your eyes. “right. because that’s all this is to you. just some ‘whatever’”

her cheeks flush, and she glances away, busying herself with folding a stray sweatshirt. “i didn’t say that,” she mutters.

“you didn’t have to,” you reply, your voice slightly quieter now, but no less tense. “you know, for someone who’s so concerned about ‘trouble,’ you’re pretty good at creating it”

jackie’s hands still, her knuckles whitening as she grips the shirt tightly. for a moment, it looks like she might say something, but then she exhales sharply and shoves the sweatshirt away. a part of you would prefer it if she actually did. if she, for once, recognizes what you two have, rather than keeping it something shameful. something unspoken. it shouldn’t surprise you that she doesn’t.

“i’m going to take a shower,” jackie announces instead. “just…stay out of my way”

she doesn’t wait for a response before grabbing her things and heading for the door, leaving you alone in the too-quiet room. the door slams shut behind her, and you sink onto the edge of your bed, rubbing a hand over your face.

this wasn’t what you had envisioned for the nationals. you didn’t ask to be thrown into a room with jackie, but now that you are, you can’t help the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. why do you have to be punished, just because she and shauna can’t behave?

jackie has been keeping you at arm’s length for months now, barely acknowledging you outside of stolen moments behind closed doors that she won’t talk about. and now, trapped in this tiny room together, all the tension and unspoken words feel like they’re pressing down on you, endlessly heavy and suffocating.

when she finally returns, her hair damp and her face scrubbed clean, the air between you is no less charged.

she moves stiffly, avoiding your gaze as she sets her toiletries down and climbs into bed without a word. you briefly consider saying something to break the silence, but the memory of her earlier words

you think I want to be stuck here with you?

holds you back. instead, you turn off the bedside lamp and lie down on your back, the too-small room plunging into darkness.

a long time passes by in the familiar silence. it’s all it ever is with jackie: radio silence until it’s not an inconvenience for her to want you. then, you’ll have her for a couple of hours, before things go back to how they were before.

the other bed creaks softly beside you as jackie shifts, her back to you. for a second, you think she’s fallen asleep already. then you hear her sigh, low and almost inaudible.

despite everything, her sharp words, her cold demeanor, you know jackie, for better or for worse. you know she’s scared, for reasons beyond you, and conflicted. she’s trying so desperately to pretend to be something she’s not. and she would've been able to succeed with it, had it not been for you.

the silence stretches on, thick and heavy. at some point, you roll onto your side, your back to hers too, determined to get some sleep, yet to no avail. you hear it before she speaks: the faintest shift of the mattress as jackie turns.

“are you awake?” she murmurs, her voice hesitant.

you don’t answer right away, torn between wanting to keep your distance and the part of you that aches to close the gap between you. finally, you whisper, “yeah”

she falls silent for a moment, and you can almost sense her weighing whether or not to say more.

you hear movement in the dark, and you’re about to turn when the mattress dips by your legs where jackie has sat. ”i didn’t mean what i said earlier. about not wanting to be here“

you swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. you don’t dare to turn and look at her. “then why say it?”

jackie hesitates. you can feel her shift closer, the warmth of her body radiating against your back. a part of you wants to push her away. another, stronger and more determined part wants her endlessly closer. “because it’s easier,” she admits quietly. you force yourself to fight against the shiver that threatens to run down your back when she curls up against you, her breath warm on your shoulder blade. “it’s easier to push you away than…than deal with any of this”

her words hang in the air, and you find yourself turning to face her. the darkness between you doing nothing to hide the vulnerability in her expression from this close. this, you realize as you take in jackie’s features, is the most vulnerable she’s ever been around you.

“how do you feel?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

jackie’s gaze drops, her fingers curling into the edge of the blanket between you. “i don’t know,” she says, but the tremble in her voice betrays her. “i just know that when i’m with you, everything gets so…complicated”

you reach out, your hand brushing against hers. “it doesn’t have to be”

jackie doesn’t move, her eyes locked on yours. then, slowly, tentatively, she closes the distance between you, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s equal parts hesitation and longing.

when she finally pulls away, her forehead rests against yours, and she exhales shakily. “this doesn’t change anything,” she whispers. there she is again. the jackie you know. the jackie you will despise again in the morning. the jackie you have, unfortunately, fallen in love with months ago, long before she decided that you were worth to keep around for some occasional hook ups.

you don’t respond verbally. if this is all of her that you’ll get tonight, you will still very much take it.

jackie’s fingertips trace your cheeks as your mouths move together. you’re not even sure who has leaned in first this time, only that you’re kissing her again and that she’s kissing you back just as eagerly.

her lips are so soft against yours it’s unfair, yet they’re demanding and hungry, ravishing your mouth in a way you never dared to imagine. simultaneously, her hands are running all over you, wherever jackie can reach. frustrated with how restrictive these blankets are, she grunts and pushes them aside.

with the newfound space, she smoothly slides on top of you, your legs tangling together on the plain bedsheets.

“come here” she murmurs, closing the distance between you again. you part your lips almost immediately, giving in to all that stupid, pent-up hunger.

it’s not long after, that you try bucking your hips upward, chasing after a pressure she is not yet providing. jackie has never been one to give. you can remember the one single time where she’s actually shoved her hand down your pants. it’d been in the back of your car, from a slightly awkward angle and without much aftercare to it. but it had been, to this day, one of your best orgasms simply because it was jackie taylor’s hand that had been touching you that night. to this day, it is what you think back to when you’re alone in your room.

now, she seems oddly eager to touch you. except this time, you realize, you have time. there are no parents anywhere nearby, no jeff that could catch or overhear you. just the two of you, in the middle of the night.

maybe coach martinez had, unknowingly done you the biggest favor of your lifetime.

you bite your lip when jackie leans back to look down at you. her hair is a mess, her chest heaving with how hard she’s panting.

one tug is all it takes before she’s all over you again, caging you in between her forearms on either side of your head. you bury your hands in her hair and allow yourself to pretend that any of this is normal.

her shirt comes off first, tossed off the bed carelessly. you sit before her, hands roaming her sides, eyes glued to her chest. yours is next and jackie seems almost impatient to peel it off of you. once you’re both topless, she pushes you back into the mattress and straddles your hips.

you moan into her mouth when her bare breasts slide up against yours. eager to feel more of this, for as long as she lets you, you arch your back up against jackie. she groans softly into your mouth, the noise shooting straight between your legs.

“jackie” you manage. your fingers have, without you even noticing, wrapped around her forearms in a silent plea for her to stay this close. you only let go when she puts her mouth to the side of your neck and sucks.

well, this is new, you briefly think. jackie, for obvious reasons, never lets you mark her up at all. but you didn’t think of her as one to be into leaving hickeys. how you’ll cover them in the morning is a problem for your future self. for now, you just don’t want her to stop. whatever has gotten into her tonight, you want more of it.

“jackie” you sigh again, more urgency in your voice this time. “touch me”

she leans back from where she had her face buried in the crook of your neck. for a moment, as your hand slides from the back of her head, you think you’ve messed it all up. you’d been playing with fire from the start. and now you’ve pushed her too far, asked for too much. then, an unfamiliar determination flickers over jackie’s face, and her fingers drop down to your shorts.

“holy shit” you can’t help but mutter when she, unlike what you expected, doesn’t immediately shove her hand down past the waistline. instead, jackie pushes them all the way down your legs with your help, leaving you in your underwear. she watches as you kick them off, then turns back to face you. you do notice that she’s purposefully not looking right at you, but you don’t mind it all that much when she settles down beside you and runs her flat palm down your body.

her fingers briefly brush over your nipples but don’t waste any time to get to where you both want them the most. you’ve learned to love jackie in the quiet, stolen moments in between. you can’t miss anything you’ve never had and only the comfort of a bed and a room all to yourselves seems too luxurious to be true. you’re not going to ruin this for yourself by getting caught up in the lack of proper foreplay.

you involuntarily spread your legs wider for jackie when she reaches your underwear and you can feel her smile against the side of your neck, where she’s resting her head.

when her index finger runs over the fabric there, her mouth falls open. she must feel the wet patch of your arousal.

“you’re so-“ she gasps, just barely managing to cut herself off in time. jackie taylor doesn’t speak to you while she gets you off. she clears her throat and makes up by finally pushing your underwear aside.

you have to slam a hand over your mouth so your next-door neighbors won’t hear the sound you make when jackie circles your clit for the first time. she’s deliberate, her wrist moving in firm, clockwise circular motions.

the blankets rustle quietly as she adjusts, propping her weight down on one hand as she lingers above you and watches, then presses down harder.

your head falls back into the pillows and your jaw goes slack. to your surprise, jackie’s expression is a reflection of your own: her mouth hangs open as though she’s the one who’s getting touched, and her eyes are heavy as they study your reactions. just by the way she’s touching you, you wouldn’t know that this is only her second time doing this. she must've been attentive to the way you've been touching her during all of your past hook-ups.

you can feel how wet you’re getting -embarrassingly fast. her fingers slide over you in no time whatsoever, gathering your arousal on them before pushing it up and over your clit.

a shuddered breath falls from your lips. jackie is still watching you, alternating between your face (yet never your eyes) and where her hand is moving between your legs.

she keeps this up until you can feel her in every single nerve ending. whether jackie knows this or not, though something tells you that she does, this is not quite enough to make you cum. it’s merely enough to get you towards that edge, toeing it, yet never falling over. the pressure isn’t hard enough, the sensation too brief.

in spite of yourself, you begin to rock your hips into her hand. at this point, you’re so wet it’s dripping through your underwear. there’s no reason to hide your own desperation anymore when she can feel it herself.

“jackie-“ you gasp. it’s tortuously good.

the first time she looks into your eyes that night is when she dips her soaked finger lower and pushes it inside. the moan that you let out at this is definitely too loud for a packed hotel, but she makes no attempt to hush you.

you can feel the place where jackie's pebbled nipples press against you, every inch of exposed skin curled up with your own, and her breath fans against your earlobe. you’re half convinced you’re only imagining it when she whispers: “you like this?”

you hardly hear the words at all, drowned out by your own, mindless gasps and the sounds coming from where jackie is pounding into you; the obscenely slick noises.

she’s deep. she’s so deep inside of you, her delicate fingers pressing deeper than she’s ever been before. it’s the first time you actually feel her there and that alone is enough for your eyes to roll back in your head.

“yeah” you manage just so.

“yeah?” jackie pouts, almost mockingly, forcing them inside some more.

“oh my god” is all you can say to that.

usually, it would be you touching her. this is one of those rare occasions where the roles are reversed. where jackie gets to touch you. to fuck you, really: she's pressing her hips against you from where she’s lingering on top, draws them back as she does the same with her hand, then snaps them back immediately the moment she pumps her fingers into you. like she’s really fucking you, you think.

it briefly occurs to you that maybe, if jackie is so eager for this, you’ll have to invest in a strap so that you can fill each other up properly. then again, it would probably be too much to bring this idea up to her. you’ll consider yourself lucky if she so much as looks at you after tonight.

as soon as jackie’s third finger slips into you, you no longer bother to even try and hold your head up. she’s never fucked you like that and you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing for this feeling back.

she’s steadily pressing, curling, and exploring with three of her fingers and all you can do is chant cries of her name as you try to ride her hand.

your head falls to the side, into the pillows. a necessary but pointless try to stifle your moans.

“jackie please”

you can hear her mumbling words of “that’s it” and “take it” against your temple but it’s white noise to what you feel when her thumb finds your clit, rubbing in fast circles that match the brutal pace she’s set. even jackie is panting now. her wrists must be aching, at this rate, but she’s not stopping. you wonder if she’s as wet for you as you are for her. you know how easy it is to get her wet. so she must be, it wouldn’t surprise you if she’s stained your bed.

in the end, these aren’t the thoughts that push you over the edge. it’s jackie’s voice urging you to “cum” to “please cum for me”.

the rest of the world blurs in and out of focus and, for as long as your orgasm lasts, there’s nothing but the pleasure that explodes in your abdomen and leaves you shaking on the mattress.

you choke out a moan as it washes over you. jackie is watching you, her mouth hanging open like it only dawns upon her now that she's got this kind of effect on you.

even as the pleasure starts to fade, your thighs are still shaking. jackie is almost hesitant about lifting her hand from between your legs, though she makes a point of not looking down at your arousal on her before she wipes it off on the mattress.

“holy shit” you mutter, staring at the ceiling above and dropping the weight of your head back onto the pillows. your whole body feels ten times lighter than it did mere minutes ago.

reality sinks in soon enough though.

after another deep breath, you turn to jackie. she's still sitting on your mattress, but her bare back is turned to you. stupidly enough, you try to reach out. she senses the movement and shoots you a sharp glance, so your hand freezes mid-air, never reaching her.

“don't” the sharpness in her voice has no right to sting the way it does. you pull your hand back, uselessly dropping it onto the mattress.

“jackie...”

“i said don't" she snaps all over again. "it's better this way”

better for who? you wonder. the question burns but you force yourself to bite it back. there's no point in trying to push her further. you watch jackie reach for her discarded clothes on the floor. her movements are hurried as she pulls her shirt back over her head. like if she's frantic enough about it, it'll all go away.

“was it something i-” “no,” she immediately interrupts. with her shirt back on, she stands. “don’t make this into something it’s not”

“jackie you don’t have to-“

“this didn’t mean anything” she interjects all over again. “we shouldn’t have…it was a mistake, okay? it won’t happen again”

“a mistake?”

it’s not the first time jackie calls it that. for a ‘mistake’ she’s been coming back a surprising amount of times. yet it always comes down to this.

“i don’t want to talk about it,” she snaps, her arms cross defensively over her chest as she turns toward her bed. “we have nationals tomorrow. we need to focus”

“are you serious right now?” your voice rises slightly. “jackie, you can’t just-“

“i can,” she says firmly. “and i am”

you sit there, half naked and stunned into silence as jackie climbs into her own bed and pulls the covers up to her chin, facing the wall so you can’t see her expression. her breathing is shaky, though, and you can tell she’s trying hard to steady it.

“fine,” you say stubbornly when you realize she’s actually serious. “pretend it didn’t happen. pretend it didn’t mean anything to you”

jackie doesn’t respond.

you sit in the stillness for what feels like an eternity. as you finally settle under the covers, your back turned to her, you hear jackie’s voice:

“stay away from me. for the rest of this trip”

you swallow hard, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “got it,” you whisper.

then, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of her breathing. jackie doesn’t move, and neither do you. whatever you’d hoped might come from tonight has slipped right through your fingers.

eventually, jackie’s breathing evens out, and you wonder if she’s actually asleep or just pretending. either way, you close your eyes, trying to make the hurt fade.

[lunaatthezoo]

Introducing: What None Saw

As I'm finished writing and now just in the editing stage of the final chapters of She'll Wait No Longer, I have begun work on its prologue: What None Saw. This will be a dual-POV mostly canon-compliant multi-chapter Elriel fic leading up to ACOSF Solstice. I wanted to explore interactions with them that we didn't get to see in the first four books, and I've been having so much fun writing it. It's unfortunately not smutty, but a whole lot of mutual pining, angst, and fluff. We're talking a WHOLE lot of soooooooft Azriel and blushing Elain. Preview below ;)

🎨: padawan.carol, commissioned by stephdaydreams

“Another question?” Azriel asked her, as if he could sense that void still pulling on her. Elain nodded again.

Azriel considered for a few moments.

“What did you dream of becoming, when you were a child?”

Elain blinked. She gazed down into her tea again. 

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “When my mother was still alive, she expected me to marry and unburden the family of my care, I suppose. Or perhaps bring them further fortune. I was only ever encouraged to think, act, and look like a highborn lady. I played the pianoforte, I learned to read and write with my tutors, and I attended society events. I was never told I could be anything other than a wife and mother.” 

A pang of guilt swept through Elain at the thought that Feyre did not get that chance to learn to read and write, and that she and Nesta had done nothing to teach her. 

Azriel only watched her, impassive, so she continued. 

“When we lost our fortune, I had no time to dream. I became quite skilled with sewing, as we could not often afford new clothes and ours always needed repairs. I gardened seldomly, only when I could afford seeds and had the time to. I helped keep our cottage in working repair and cooked in my father’s stead, because he was injured. The only thing I ever allowed myself to dream about was falling in love and marrying. Partially because it was something I desired, but also because it was a way out.”

Elain had never admitted any of this to another before, and she didn’t know why she did now.

But Azriel just listened, so quietly and thoughtfully, and the words falling from her felt like…a relief. A grounding. He listened to her without judgment or concern, only honest curiosity.

“What did you dream of becoming as a boy?” She asked him.

Azriel kept his cool, collected mask on his face, even as Elain swore she saw something flicker through his eyes.

“I had no dreams as a child.” 

Shame flooded Elain at what an insensitive question it was. Azriel had just told her he was locked in a dungeon for eleven years. Of course he wasn't thinking about becoming a warrior or a courtier or an artist. He was just trying to survive. 

Azriel must have seen the guilt on her face because he considered. 

“I suppose I dreamed of freedom.” 

Elain let out a breath. 

“As did I,” she answered. 

Their gazes locked and they simply stared at each other for long moments. 

“What is your favorite dessert?” Azriel asked her. Elain felt the smallest semblance of a smile tug at her mouth. 

“Do you enjoy sweet things, Azriel?” She asked him, surprised once again by his question. She couldn't imagine the warrior eating a slice of chocolate cake or lemon tart. 

Azriel grinned a bit, too. “I do enjoy sweet things, Elain,” he answered, holding her gaze with intensity. 

And despite everything, despite her doomed engagement and the unfolding war and her stolen life and her daunting mating bond, Elain felt a blush kiss her cheeks. 

She looked down, feeling bashful. 

“Strawberry shortcake,” she told him. 

Azriel grinned a bit broader at that. 

“Strawberry shortcake,” he repeated, nodding thoughtfully. “I have never had that.”

“Really?” Elain asked. “Is it not eaten here?”

Azriel shook his head. “No, I have never heard of it.” After a few seconds he added, “Perhaps I can try it one day with you.” 

Elain fought a blush once more.

“And you?” She asked, curious now. 

Azriel leaned back, considering. 

“Honey biscuits.” 

And despite herself yet again, Elain swallowed a laugh. Azriel raised a brow at her reaction, which made a true giggle escape her lips. 

“I'm sorry,” Elain laughed. 

Azriel's mouth twitched at her amusement. “What is it?” He asked her.

“It’s just,” she chuckled. “Honey biscuits are rather a…a youngling snack, are they not? A snack for a hungry toddler stomping his feet?”

Azriel chuckled a bit himself then, smiling truly. Shadows flitted around his head as if in response to his laughter.

"Yes," he answered, leaning back and crossing his arms. "I suppose they are."

Elain giggled once more. She imagined Azriel munching on honey biscuits in a secret Spymaster lair and laughed harder still.

"But can you deny their perfection?" Azriel asked her with an amused smile.

"No," Elain answered, shaking her head with a smile. "No, I cannot."

Azriel's smile seemed to falter as he gazed at Elain's face.

"That's the first time I've heard your laugh," he noted.

[kathlare]

orange chaos

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amid the lively chaos of King’s Day in Amsterdam, Lando finds himself navigating the energetic festivities and an unexpected injury. A lighthearted call with Amelie bridges the miles between them, offering comfort and laughter. As the night unfolds, Lando’s introspection, fueled by the party’s drinks and a friend's candid observations, leads to a heartfelt realization about his feelings for her, sparking both hope and hesitation in his mind.

Wordcount: 1.3 k

Warnings: just fluff

April 27th, 2024 - Amsterdam, Netherlands

The canals of Amsterdam were alive with color. Boats packed with people decked out in bright orange, the national color of the Netherlands, drifted lazily through the water, music blasting and drinks flowing. The atmosphere was electric. Lando leaned back against the railing of the boat, laughing at one of Martin’s outrageous stories about a disastrous set he’d played in Ibiza years ago. He wasn’t sure if it was the chaos of King’s Day or the several drinks he’d had, but he felt completely at ease.

—Mate, drink up!— Martin called out, passing him another glass. Lando grabbed it without hesitation, clinking it against Martin’s before taking a swig. That’s when it happened. The moment the glass hit his lips, he felt the sharp sting, followed by the unmistakable taste of copper.

—Shit!— Lando exclaimed, pulling the glass away to see the jagged crack along the rim. Blood began to drip from the bridge of his nose, the cut small but annoyingly precise. He swore under his breath as he pressed a napkin to it.

Martin doubled over laughing, his orange bucket hat slipping over his eyes. —Oh my God, mate! You’ve actually managed to injure yourself while drinking! That’s a new one.—

—Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,— Lando grumbled, tilting his head back slightly and holding the napkin against the cut. The orange of his hoodie only made the red more vivid.

Martin, ever the instigator, pulled out his phone and snapped a quick photo. —This is gold. You look like some sort of bandaged gladiator,— he said between fits of laughter. —Amelie has to see this.—

—No, no, don’t...— Lando started, but it was too late. Martin was already video calling her.

Amelie’s face appeared on the screen, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. She was sitting in what looked like a trailer, her hair pulled back and a script in her lap. —What’s up, Marti... Oh my God, Lando, what the hell happened to you?—

Lando groaned. —Hi, Ames. Nice to see you too.—

Amelie leaned closer to the camera, squinting at him. —Is that... a bandage wrapped around your face? Did you get into a bar fight or something?—

—No!— Lando said, exasperated. —I cut my nose on a broken glass. And before you say anything, it wasn’t my fault.—

—Oh, sure,— Amelie teased, her laughter bubbling through the phone. —So the glass just... jumped at you? Classic.—

Martin, still laughing, chimed in. —I swear, Ames, it was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen. He’s sitting there, trying to look cool, and bam! Broken glass, blood everywhere.—

—Thanks for the support, mate,— Lando said dryly, rolling his eyes.

Amelie was laughing so hard now that she had to set her script aside. —I wish I was there to see it,— she managed between giggles. —You’re such a disaster.—

—Well, I wish you were here too,— Lando said, his tone softening. —But, you know, not to laugh at me. To, like, enjoy the chaos. And maybe keep me from injuring myself.—

Amelie’s teasing smile shifted into something more affectionate. —You’d still find a way to hurt yourself, even with me there.—

—Probably,— Lando admitted with a grin. —But at least you’d kiss it better.—

—Bold assumption,— she shot back, though the playful glint in her eye betrayed her.

—Don’t act like you don’t like an excuse to baby me,— he said, leaning into the flirtation.

Amelie rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. —How’s the party? Besides the obvious injury.—

—Insane,— Lando said, glancing around at the packed boat. —You’d love it. Everyone’s in orange, the music’s loud, and the drinks are... well, apparently dangerous.—

—Sounds like my kind of chaos,— she said wistfully. —But instead, I’m stuck in Indianapolis, pretending to be in the Upside Down. Not quite the same vibe.—

—I’ll trade you,— Lando offered. —You can party with Martin, and I’ll fight some Demogorgons or whatever.—

Amelie smirked. —Tempting, but I think I’ll stick to my fake monsters. They’re probably less hazardous than your broken glass.—

—Fair,— Lando conceded. —But next year, you’re coming with me. No excuses.—

—It’s a deal,— she said, her voice softening again. —But only if you promise not to injure yourself next time.—

—No promises,— Lando said with a wink.

Martin, who had been quiet during their back-and-forth, finally interrupted. —You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?—

Amelie laughed. —That’s your fault for calling me, Garrix.—

—I regret it deeply,— Martin deadpanned, though his grin betrayed him.

—Alright, I’ll let you two get back to your boat shenanigans,— Amelie said, still smiling. —But, Lando, please try not to bleed out, okay?—

—I’ll do my best,— he said, flashing her a boyish grin.

—Bye, Amelie,— Martin said, waving dramatically at the screen.

—Bye, guys,— she said, blowing a kiss toward the camera before the call ended.

Lando stared at the phone for a moment after the call ended, a small, private smile on his lips. Martin clapped him on the back, jolting him back to the present. —Mate, you’re so whipped.—

—Shut up,— Lando said, but he couldn’t stop smiling.

The party raged on, but Lando’s thoughts kept drifting back to Amelie, her laughter still ringing in his ears. Even thousands of miles apart, she had a way of making everything better. Broken glass, bleeding nose, and all.

The party showed no signs of slowing down, and neither did Martin’s enthusiasm for filling Lando’s glass. The music thumped in time with the swaying boat, and the laughter of their group carried over the water like an anthem of carefree chaos. Lando had lost count of how many drinks he’d had; all he knew was that his mind felt light, his limbs loose, and his tongue dangerously unfiltered.

Martin was recounting yet another ridiculous tour story when he noticed Lando staring into his half-empty glass, the smile on his face softer than usual.

—You’re quiet,— Martin said, nudging him. —What’s going on in that drunk little head of yours?—

Lando laughed, the sound more wistful than amused. —Just thinking.—

—Dangerous,— Martin teased, taking another sip of his drink. —About what? Or, let me guess... Amelie.—

Lando’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away, trying to mask it with a chuckle. —Shut up.—

Martin grinned, clearly onto something. —Oh, come on, mate. It’s written all over your face. You can’t stop smiling every time she’s mentioned, or when she calls, apparently. You’ve got it bad.—

Lando hesitated, his drunken inhibitions clashing with his usual instinct to play it cool. He swirled the liquid in his glass, watching the way it caught the light, before finally speaking. —I don’t know, man. It’s just… different with her.—

Martin’s eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t expecting Lando to actually open up. —Different how?—

Lando exhaled deeply, the alcohol loosening his tongue further. —She’s… she’s not like anyone else. She gets me, you know? Like, really gets me. I can be myself with her, completely. No filter, no walls. And she’s just... amazing. She’s funny, and smart, and talented, and so, so beautiful. And when she smiles, it’s like... I don’t know, like everything’s right with the world.—

Martin blinked at him, momentarily stunned into silence. Then he smirked. —Mate, you’re not just whipped... you’re in love.—

The words hung in the air, heavier than the party atmosphere around them. Lando didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the shimmering water. He downed the rest of his drink before answering, his voice quieter now. —Yeah. I think I am.—

Martin let out a low whistle, leaning back against the railing. —Well, shit. I didn’t think you’d actually admit it.—

Lando shrugged, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. —It’s the truth. And, honestly, it scares the hell out of me. Like, what if I mess it up? What if she doesn’t feel the same way?—

Martin shook his head, his expression surprisingly serious. —Lando, if you think she doesn’t feel the same, you’re blind. Did you not see the way she was looking at you earlier? She’s just as into you as you are into her.—

—You think so?— Lando asked, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability.

—I know so,— Martin said firmly. —Now, the real question is, when are you gonna tell her?—

Lando laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. —I don’t know. It’s not exactly easy to drop the ‘I love you’ bomb on someone, you know?—

—Well, you’d better figure it out, mate,— Martin said, clinking his glass against Lando’s. —Because if you don’t, someone else might. And you’d be an idiot to let her go.—

Lando nodded, the weight of Martin’s words settling in his chest. He glanced at his phone, the thought of Amelie’s laughter and the way her eyes lit up when she teased him replaying in his mind. He didn’t have all the answers, but one thing was clear—he had to tell her. And soon.

For now, though, the night wasn’t over. The boat swayed as another wave of cheers erupted from the crowd, and Martin handed him another drink, grinning mischievously. —Come on, lover boy. Let’s make some more memories to regret tomorrow.—

Lando laughed, clinking his glass against Martin’s. —Cheers to that.— But even as he joined in the revelry, his thoughts never strayed far from Amelie.

[magicalbuttertarts]

Damian Priest x f/Reader (18+) (AU)

WWE Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: unprotected sex. P in v sex. Anal sex. Cum oral (m & f receiving) use of dildo. Creampie. Marriage.

WC: 2335

Gifs & photos do not belong to me: 1st gif: @fireflyeditzz

©️magicalbuttertarts 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Idea came because @floofysashimi shared the title photo.

"Okay, okay, that is enough practice for today." Our drummer & backup singer, Rhea called out as I sighed, hanging my head as I gripped my guitar a bit too tight for my liking.

"We still have a few hours left until we should call it quits." The electronic keyboard player, Dominik said as he wrapped his arms around our other backup singer, Liv's waist, pulling her against his side.

Our Bass player, Finn was only walking off with some groupies.

"We will be back here tomorrow for the music video." I called out, already regretting doing this music video.

I didn't want too, but our manger insisted that our band Judgement Day, should.

"You good Damian?" Rhea asked me as she walked up to me.

She is the only one who knows me better than I know myself.

People thought we were together, but we are actually just really good friends. Her husband is a good guy, and will randomly travel with us on the road.

"Just don't think those three give a fuck about this anymore. Finn is always late and wondering where his next lay will come from, and don't get me started on Dominik and Liv."

"Okay, calm down there big fella. Let's go out and have some fun. Maybe a few hours at the club will ease your stress." Rhea suggested.

"Buddy meeting us?" Knowing she only goes out when he is in town.

"Yeah, got us in the VIP section at XS Las Vegas."

"Fine. I'll go. Just to see what the fuss is about with it. I have heard about it."

The music was loud, the woman were all over me like usual, but I know what they are after. Just one night with me to brag to all of their friends about spending the night with Damian Priest, lead singer of Judgement Day.

Rhea and Buddy were all over one another, as were Dominik and Liv.

The four of them were making me almost nauseated, so I decided to leave tbe VIP section and head outside to grab some fresh air.

But as I did that, I walked right into someone, my arms wrapping around them to keep from falling.

Their hands are laying on my chest and I was about to ask if they were okay as I looked down and for once in my life, no words came to me as I looked down at the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

I saw them mouth, "Are you okay?" And all I could do was nod my head yes.

I leaned down to whisper in their ear, "Can I buy you a drink?" They nodded their head yes, and the two of us walked back to the bar for me to replace the drink I spilled.

◆

I brought her back to the VIP section, and the only thing I caught was her name before we started to make out.

I pulled her into my lap, not caring for once if people were taking photos of me, as I wanted everyone to know that I have the most beautiful woman in my arms, kissing me as she grinded her body on top of me.

"Come back to my hotel room." I muttered against the kiss, making her whine my name before agreeing.

The two of us left my band members behind, her hand in mine as walked us out of the club and to the Uber that is waiting outside for us.

◆

I woke up the morning, with her gone, with only a few things to remind me of her.

Her lipstick stained against my skin.

The indents of where she dug her nails into my skin.

I licked my lips, groaning at the faint taste of her pussy still lingering on my lips, as I ate her out until she pushed me away, begging for me to fuck her.

Her gasps and moans echoing in mind as I started the shower.

I looked over my body, looking over all the little marks she left on me, and then my eyes were focused on my cock.

Her bouncing in my lap flashed before my eyes and I groaned at the thought of how tight her fucking pussy was. How it felt like it was trying to strangle my cock.

Then I noticed the red stain on my cock, remembering how she applied her lipstick once more just before she sucked me off.

Her eyes closed as she took me down her throat and then how her eyes teared up as I fucked her face until I came, groaning her name as I felt her swallow it all.

When I pulled back from her mouth, she smiled at me, opening her mouth to prove that it was all gone.

All I could do was moan as I picked her up to throw her on the bed, crawling between her thighs and fucking her into the mattress until her body wash shaking and my cum leaking out of her abused pussy.

The alarm on my phone brought me back down to earth, making me swear under my breath as I hopped into the shower, washing away our night together.

◆

"Places everyone. We will film just the band, and then the model will come after." The director called out from his seat.

"Not even the makeup crew could get rid of that hickey on your chest huh?" Rhea teased me as she walked past me.

"I see someone had a good time." Finn said next to me, lifting his sunglasses and wincing at the lights, before placing them back on.

"Okay, yes, I had a good time. Not let's get this done and over with." I said, loudly.

"You gonna see her again?" Liv asked me, as she stood next to Dominik.

"Most likely not. Only caught her first name."

"Once again, please people. Good good. Dim the lights. Good, good, action."

Time to get this day started.

◆

"Okay, bring out the girls." I gringed when the director called them that.

I could hear the sound of their heels and boots walking this way, and I was talking to Finn about what we are going to do next, when I heard the Director call for us to take our places once more.

I was assigned one model who would I would jump off the stage for and pretend to dance with as the music played around us.

"Damian, you see her, the one right in the middle, you were jump down and walk to her, okay."

I looked over at who he was pointing at, and I almost chocked on my spit.

It was her.

The woman from last night.

Her and I made eye contact, and her eyes got real wide as she saw me standing there, looking at her.

"She is gorgeous. Your manager picked good." The Director whistled, but stopped when he saw me turn my gaze to him.

He cleared his throat and told us to start.

I stood in my spot, watching her, to make sure she didn't disappear like she did this morning.

◆

The music was playing as I mouthed the words to the song I wrote.

It is time for me to jump off the stage and walk towards her, the other people fading into the background as the room went dark, except for her and I.

She pretended to walk away, but I pulled her back towards me, her hands landing on my chest just like yesterday when we met.

I placed my hand under her chin for her to look at me, as my other arm pulled her flush against my body.

Her perfume making me groan to myself before I kissed her, which wasn't in the script for the video, but the director kept rolling until the music faded away, the two of us still making out with everyone around us.

"I think we got it. All done for the day everyone. Good job."

People clapped around us, as I pulled my lips away from her, her eyes were half-closed as she looked up at me.

"Damian? We will meet up with you later." Rhea called out, pulling Dominik and Finn with her, with Liv most likely giggling.

"Come back with me again, or if you are hungry, we can go out to eat." I asked her once more.

"Damian, it was fun for one night, but it wouldn't work between us." She said.

"Why not?"

"You travel and I do as well. We wouldn't see eachother."

"Then come back for one last night together. I can't get you out of my head." I was honest with her.

"One more night, Damian."

◆

As I sat on our private plane, I looked out the window as I watched the video I recorded of us, the sounds of our love making going directly to my ears through my headphones.

"Just like that Damian. Fuck." She cried out as I rutted into her from behind, my cock buried in her pussy as I pushed her head into the mattress, her head turned towards the camera.

Her screaming out my name as she came, her pussy fluttering around my cock as she pulled an orgasm from my body.

I watched myself reach for my phone to zoom on her pussy, which was leaking my cum.

I watched another video of me between her spread thighs, her hand gripping my head as her other hand held the camera to record me eating her out.

Soft whines of my name I could hear as I ate her out, my eyes focused on her face, that I could not see on the camera.

Her body arched as she came, moaning loudly as ate her out and fingered her. I pulled my mouth away, and I could see my chin coated in her juices.

I licked my lips imaging the taste of her was still there.

Video after video played, and I had to go to the washroom to jerk off.

I watched my favourite video of all as I jerked myself off.

My phone was facing the bed as she rode me, her back arched and my hands on her hips as I helped her bounce in my lap.

As she came, she collapsed against my chest, her ass still bouncing in my lap as she used my cock to get off.

Then she got off of me and wrapped her lips around my cock just as I shouted out her name, my cum filling her mouth once more.

Her eyes were focused on my phone as she swallowed, kissing the tip as she moved her head away.

With grunt of her name, I came, not caring if anyone heard me. Wishing she was here, and not me jerking off on some private plane.

◆

I invited her to our concerts, and she showed up whe she could.

Her backstage, watching me the whole entire time.

Us going back to whatever hotel I am staying at.

Until I was able to convince her to go out on a date with me.

Which brought the paparazzi, which I should have known would happen.

It was all over the internet and even in magazines the next day.

'The Rockstar and The Model. Will it last?' Seemed to be main question, which had me fuming.

"Come on Damian, who cares what they think. Come back to bed or I will have to start with out you." She teased from the bed.

"You wouldn't dare." I put down my phone just as she flung back the blankets, and I could see she had a dildo in her hand.

But not just any dildo, but the one I had made just for her, the exact copy of my cock.

"Go on baby, fuck yourself with it."

My hand wrapped around my cock as I watched her insert it in her pussy, her whining my name.

"That's it baby. Keep it there and turn around, hands and knees. I want to stuff you full." She did exactly what I asked as I stood.

Grabbing the lube from my bag and quickly lathering my cock with it, her spreading her ass as I got closer.

I groaned at the sight as I have already fucked her there today.

I slid into her ass, inch by agonising inch until I bottomed out.

"How do you feel baby?" I asked her as I kissed her between her shoulder blades.

"Full. So full Damian."

"Good." Was all I said before I started to thrust in and out of her ass.

◆

Been four months of us dating and five months of us non-stop fucking.

We were once again in Vegas, and I was driving around with her next to me.

"You wanna get married?" I asked her, knowing she is the one for me.

"What? Right now?" She asked me, turning her body to look at me.

"Yeah, we pick a church and we get married."

"So romantic Damian." She teased. "But of course I will marry you."

We were married 45 minutes later, us driving off to the secluded cabin I rented, but I first had to pull off to the side of this empty, dirt road as I held her back of her head, as my hips thrust up into her mouth as she moaned around my cock.

"My wife is taking my cock so well down her throat. Like she was meant for me." I groaned as she was licking up and down my cock as I fucked her face.

My loud groan was her only warning as I came down her throat, the two of us moaning as she made qucik work to swallow.

I was breathing heavy as I let go of her hair and she sat up.

I smashed my mouth against hers, moaning at the fact that I can taste my cum on her lips.

"I love you my darling wife."

"I love you too, my sweet husband."

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @madhatterbri @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @tahiri-veyla @terrortwinunicorn

[webanglikethat]

things ram and devi have done and said without even saying they’re in love / being in a relationship because they drive me insane:

Ram defied orders from the LITERAL goddess because he didn’t want Devi to die, thus ignoring his duties

-> like …. he willingly let another woman DIE in Devi’s place and !!!! this act had been committed five years ago, when the affection between the two had BARELY begun blossoming

-> “Why bother when the goddess herself allows you to decide people’s fate?” had been Devi’s question to him, but little did she know, he already defied every rule for her, going against literal fate

he saved Devi during the arson, putting her before his own BROTHER

he went after Devi when she took off on an horse during the attack, and carried her in his arms back to safety (which he realllyy didn’t have to do 🤭)

it’s revealed he would purposefully change his route to catch a glimpse of Devi

-> Ram’s wishful desire was to see her at every service; just hoping to catch her smile along the hallowed halls where once they met

he “noticed an unfamiliar feeling rising inside him” when he met her again

Ram always found an excuse to touch Deviya — holding her hand to lead her somewhere, brushing his fingers over her cheek to calm her, cupping her face, putting a hand on her waist, trapping her against the wall, his finger on her lips, holding her hands tighter as if it could heal her holding her waist as she straddled him

he said he “missed her smiling at him”

he kissed her neck (quite literally marking her) while thinking of how De Clare would react, not realizing the jealousy that was growing in his heart at the thought of losing her to him

-> which he then said (in season 2) he’d do it on her wedding day too !!

-> in the same episode he tried to pretend he doesn’t care about their engagement 💀, mission failed my dude 🤭

“That. The way he felt when she was near him. The reason he always looked for her in the crowd and couldn’t stop teasing her”

ram always thought of marriage as a transaction, a duty to be fulfilled, something he simply had to do. and love? love wasn’t a necessary equation. that’s what his family line looked like — alliances, partnership, all devoid of tenderness. but Deviya awakened something in Ram — and for the first time, he was confused and lost

“It’s ironic that even with all the knowledge and wisdom of the world at my disposal, I still can’t figure this out on my own. I’m almost thirty, and for all of my life I have denied myself what I wanted because the greater good was more important. And in all this time… no one has ever been able to enchant me as much as…”

Ram talked Devi through her anger at the reception so she wouldn’t make a mistake in front of her guests and lose the position she had so long worked for (he helps her see the bigger picture)

Ram told her their connection wasn’t for nothing. they were fated for a reason

the less often he saw her, the more he wanted to see her

-> and if she didn’t came, he would wait for her

he noticed everything she did — be it the way she shifted from foot to foot when she was nervous or how she looked at him in fear (from the subtlest of things to the most obvious, he noticed it always)

he teased her about how much she liked him but then said:

“such a rakhasi cannot possibly die. I need her”

admitting, even if it was meant as a tease, that he could no longer exist in a world in which her presence didn’t fill his heart’s pages

he comforted her on the day of her death, quickly realizing that:

“/ wish this had happened to me instead... hasn't she been dealt enough pain already, in her life?”

“when Ram realized how sincere his desire to take all Deviya's troubles for himself was, it quickly became clear that their secret relationship had taken on a new meaning … growing into something profound”.

what started as a perhaps meaningless, fleeting, teasing affair quickly turned into something more — something he couldn’t put a name to, but he could feel encompassing his body every single second

he could no longer pretend it was just for fun or a distraction

so he finally mustered up the courage to ask Devi to be with him (but not officially 😔) even if it was in secret — for he would rather have her in secret, than lose her be it to death or another man. 

noticing how distressed she was, he closed his eyes and then slowly began kissing her fingers. Devi noticed that his eyelashes were trembling. “he’s nervous as well, but once again he tries to reassure me first, even though he could use some support himself."

he always put her before himself, over and over again. this isn’t something he was taught, like I mentioned before. for him, marriage or love was based on children, mutual respect and the husband’s views. yet he interminably put himself in the background, just to help Devi shine

“they kissed each other gently and yet desperately at the same time, as only doomed lovers can kiss.”

“he was with her right at that moment. sharing her pain and fear... would that have been possible if what they had was fleeting? he always chose her, no matter what.”

Ram: “I'll be with you. no matter what.” Devi: “I know”

he fought for her, allowing her to escape

and her thoughts led to him, even as she bled out

“the very thought of losing him was unbearable. and just as things were beginning to blossom between them.” “dying would be a little easier if you were holding my hand right now”

"I'm with him in my thoughts, heart, and soul." // "even if it doesn't make any real sense, it does for me. l feel calmer this way."

being away from her, when she was in a coma, made Ram feel like he was dying too // the thought of losing him (as she actively died) felt even worse than death

-> his biggest dream was being able to touch her again, to gaze into her eyes, to see his affection being mirrored in hers. to hear her laughter again was all he could hope for

they risked MULTIPLE times to be caught just to bask in each other’s presence — even if it was only for a few moments because the risk was worth it — they are worth it to each other

his face “instantly lost colour” when she mentioned her wedding

he tried pretending it didn’t hurt him — that he could accept it, that he could have a part of her and let it be enough, but they both knew the truth

so she laid out her future: her married to De Clare, visiting India from time to time, meeting Ram’s wife — but not him because he would still remain a coward who couldn’t voice what he wanted

so he finally let his feelings free and kissed her, marking her neck (in the middle of the hall where everyone could’ve caught them)

he touched her under the table — at dinner, where again, anyone could’ve seen them !!!

the moment Devi’s smile faded, Ram noticed immediately and shifted his tone, asking softly, “is something wrong?” -> he is SO attuned to her emotions, so skilled at noticing even the slightest change — which is especially important since Ram isn’t portrayed as someone who does this for just anyone

they know each other well enough to play off each other’s words without malice — their banter is so much fun (especially on passion route)

he fingers her in the library 🤭 he’s SO careful with her even though it’s obvious they’re both overwhelmed by the connection — he’s letting her set the pace and the fact that Ram doesn't push, but instead allows her to slowly move at her own pace, amplifies her vulnerability and makes her every move feel more significant. she’s still confused on what she wants and he lets her explore it on her own, and she knows he will wait for her

he wanted to dance with her despite not knowing how to — and in front of everyone too !! he was ready to embarrass himself for her

-> he is so caught up in her that he’s willing to push past his own comfort zone, even if it means embarrassing himself a little; as long as he can witness her smile

now she is the one who takes the power and kisses him, marking HIS neck — and so they imagine each other naked, finally taking the next step and ….

he finally admits it to himself.

He wanted to finally understand what it meant to connect with the woman he loved with all his heart.

Ram Doobay is in love with Deviya Sharma.

[mattsredgaphoodie]

attempting to study with cfs!chris - which leads to something else very quickly. wc: 897. warnings: fluff, making out, mention of getting hard.

"chris come on. you need to study, seriously. you're gonna fail your sat."

chris whines subtly from the spot next to you, laid out next to all the books and the one macbook infront of you both. "cubbyyyy.. i'll be fine. can we just take a break? we've been studying for hours."

"i've been studying for hours. all you've done is run through my pantry of snacks, kiss my thighs, and fall asleep what, twice now? you really need to focus." she says, almost desperately.

he plants another subtle kiss to her lower thigh. "yeah, but you like it." he huffs softly, realizing she's not gonna give up anytime soon. "fine. ill study. only cause my favorite girl wants me to, so so badly." he sits up, now in a criss-cross, rubbing her thigh in admiration of her dedication for his studying.

"finally. here, maybe to keep your mind focused and on-track, ill give you a kiss everytime you get 5 questions right, yeah?"

"5?!" "5." "maybe 1?' "3. lowest ill go." "fine."

after this agreement, desperately in need of kisses from his favorite, he quickly got on track. he finished 3 questions and smiled at her and rubbed her cheek.

"mm-mm. i have to make sure they are right, first." she says as she smiles softly, pulling his hand away from her face and looking down at the paper.

he huffs softly, rather taking this short period of time to examine her. he notices the small things about her when she's checking over his work, like when she bites the bottom end of her pen, the way she rubs the paper flat every once in a while to make sure she can see everything, and how she doesn't take her eyes off the paper, not even once, so she doesn't lose track.

"they're all right?" she nods. "you sure?" "you doubtin' me, sturniolo?" "no, no, of course not. just making sure." she smiles and kisses his soft, rosy lips carefully.

as she's about to lean back, he quickly diminishes his shy-personality and grabs the back of her neck and pulls her closer. despite her efforts, she quickly reciprocates the much-needed kiss.

truthfully, she's been needing this just as much as he does. they haven't had any time to themselves in a while, and seeing how quickly it takes for their desire to appear, they both take advantage of the 3 right answers.

she pulls away quickly, earning a whine from chris. "hold on, im setting the stuff on the floor so we don't mess anything up." he nods and leans back, watching her as she sets everything down onto her hardwood floor. as she leans back up, he grabs her wrist and pulls her on top of him, bringing her closer to his reach, allowing him to kiss her beautiful, glossy pink lips.

she quickly straddles him, not breaking the kiss. as she's doing so, he takes the small opportunity as she opens her mouth slightly to quickly enter his tongue into her mouth.

this reciprocated attraction quickly passes 10 minutes, including small breath breaks.

by accident, she rolls her hips across his, creating more comfort for her, but the opposite for him.

"hmph- cub, stop." he says through muffled kisses.

"what? my legs are getting tired." she says as she pulls away carefully, leaving a string of saliva connecting the two still together.

"you can't be rubbing your hips against me like that when we're making out, kid." he lets out a breathless laugh as he licks his wet lips, breaking the saliva string.

"wait wh- oh." as she realizes, she quickly covers her mouth letting out muffled laughs.

"im- so sorry." she says she leans back, sitting in an upright position.

"it-it's fine. but, you're currently making it a lot worse. either get off or move up a bit."

"shit- yeah, yeah of course." as she finishes her sentence she quickly moves her hips up so she's straddling his upper torso. "better?"

"ye-yeah." he says as he grips her hips tightly, almost tight enough to leave marks. "come back, cub. miss you." he says softly, almost embarrassed of his clingy words.

"yeah? miss me?" she says as she laughs and leans back down, her chest directly on his as she connects with his puffy, cherry red lips.

"mm-mhm." he nods softly, running his hands up and down her back and thighs.

after a bit longer, she gives him a deep kiss, and pulls away. "we seriously need to study. no more kissing, seriously." she climbs off his lap, leaning down to the floor, grabbing their materials once again.

as she pulls away and climbs off, he lets out a small huff and looks up, redirecting his gaze to the white ceiling.

"chris." "hm?" "go to the bathroom." "why?" she lets out a small cough as he looks up, directing his sight to hers, as he notices her gaze go to this lower torso.

"fuck- i'm so-sorry." he says as he quickly stands up off the bed, and his rosy cheeks turn a shade of deep red.

"its fine, c. just go to the bathroom."

he nods and almost- painfully, runs to the bathroom.

she watches as he runs out, and lets out a small laugh, realizing their "strictly friend" relationship is never going to be the same after their first kiss, 2 months ago.

[dangerpronebuddie]

hi yes sorry i am late but i would like to know about ryliver and also sex complicates everything pls and thank <3

Hi Charlie 🥰 you're never too late!

Okay the Ryliver fic is incredibly self indulgent and I am just a little bit obsessed with it. Long story short, Oliver has the brilliant idea to practice Buck and Eddie's first kiss. There's not supposed to be a moment of hesitation between buddie, so he thinks this is the perfect way to negate that. It's totally not gonna lead anywhere else 😉. A small treat for you 🥰:

Ryan's lips are soft against his own. The kiss itself is soft, a gentle pressure, like they're holding back. Oliver pulls away and looks into Ryan's eyes, fully prepared to tease him about how that didn't even really count as a kiss, but the remark dies in his throat. There's something in Ryan's eyes. Something Oliver's seen before, but from Eddie. It's different seeing it now. “Oliver,” Ryan says in a whisper, sounding wrecked from just one kiss. Oliver can't say he's faring much better. Something sparks between them, burning away the remaining timidness. Oliver dives forward, desperate to taste his name on Ryan's lips. He slots their lips together, and if Ryan asks why, he really doesn't have a logical explanation other than the fact he wanted to.

And Sex Complicates Everything started out as a drabble prompt Tanis sent me in an ask a while back (I'm talking pre 7x09), but I got an idea that ran away from me and it became 20% sex, 80% feels. In summary, Eddie still can't get it up after Marisol and well, Buck did say he wished he could help! Have a little of my favorite part:

He feels like a cavity has cracked open inside him, joining the other fissures and caverns created in his efforts not to shake apart throughout his life. The one thing that kept him from completely crumbling is standing before him growing more concerned the longer he stays silent. "Does your offer still stand?" Eddie blurts out. "Uh, what offer?" Buck asks. "You said you wished you could help," Eddie says. He knows he sounds insane, and what he's asking of Buck is insane. But he's getting more than a little desperate. He wasn't lying when he said he was pent up. "I did," Buck says slowly, taking another step closer. "Are you saying you want me to?" "Look, I know this sounds crazy, but I really need your help. Nothing was working with Marisol, not just that, but I... I think something else might be causing this whole issue and I just- I need..."

Ask about my WIPs!

[seaslugsapphic]

The new Nisaac pics and episode info make me half-convinced that they'll get back together pretty soon. Hear me out: I'll be really surprised if the diary plot in ep 6 wasn't at least partly related to Isaac being closeted, which could bring up thoughts of his relationship with Nigel and lead to Isaac continuing to question whether he made the right choice in ending things (just like when he slapped Peter before).

And then in ep 7, we have actual Nisaac interaction for the first time since Nigel went back to the shed, and it's about something directly related to the wedding - so they're forced to talk about what happened. Add that to the fact that the A plot in this episode is about a misunderstanding leading to the (presumably) temporary breakup of the Farnsbys, and I wouldn't be surprised if Nisaac decide to try to give it another chance in the Christmas specials.

I actually don't want them to get back together that quickly - partly because I want BOTH of them to get some decent character development, but also because I want to see Isaac have to work to regain Nigel's trust - but since there's never a guarantee that a show will get renewed, and it being a nice callback to when they had their first kiss, I wouldn't be mad about it.

So far this has been my exact train of thought! I completely agree with you! I already talked about a few theories about what could be in the diary in this post, but I do think it being about his queerness would make the most sense. And it’s the one that I hope that they go with.

It would be way too soon to have them get back together already. It’s still so early in the season, but I hope they are on track for that by the end of the episode. And maybe they can have a big moment during the Christmas specials. I would not be mad about it either.

Overall I’m feeling hopeful. More so than I have the rest of the season. The set up that seems to be here could payoff well.

[purplepixel]

So.

I read issue 44 of idw.

[blindedguilt]

//Was thinking about posting this on my alt, but since I figure I've spoken about this frequently enough on this blog and it's THE dedicated Leonard Space™️... //I'm throwing up and crying thinking about how leonard had never gotten to experience romantic or sexual attraction (or will ever GET to experience those things, unrequited or not) without complete dread and self-blame and guilt and how that must have been growing up with the hope and expectations of "Being in love must be so nice, I hope I'll be able feel that one day" and not ONLY having that hope gradually dwindle as he grew into the "expected marriageable age" watching those around him go on with their lives and attain those things in a way that seems so natural but is so foreign to him and the absolute sadness of the point the notion of "attraction" and "falling in love" turned to complete and abject horror and disgust when he realises that this is what his mind has decided is "Normal" for him, and all possibilities and aspirations he may have had of a child, teen, young adult, etc. up to that point of even the bare minimum is now a complete impossibility. //how it fully sets in he'll never experience love. never find his own family or someone to be interested in and care about in such a way or even feel attraction without that weight attached.... like idc, actual relationships are one thing but if ANYTHING you should at least be able to know the joy of falling in love if even for a SECOND without any strings (Disgust, guilt, self-hate, etc.) attached!!!! guys!!!!!!! //HE'S WAY TOO KIND AND GENTLE AND HANDSOME AND CARING AND HUMBLE AND A GENTLEMAN AND HANDSOME AND HIS VOICE IS WAY TOO SEXY FOR THIS SHIT, HE DOESN'T DESERVE THIS!!!!! LET HIM LOVE!!!!!!! HE'S SHOWN TO HAVE SO MUCH TO GIVE IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS (Parental, familial, just being an empathetic person towards his "enemies" in general) AND YET HE DIES HAVING NEVER KNOWN IT...... WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO HIM........... ouuugughhh.........

[grimandghoulish]

.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Y'know, there's this gripe I've had for years that really frustrates me, and it has to do with Love, Simon and people joking about it and calling it too-pg and designed-for-straight-people and all the like. (A similar thing has happened to Heartstopper, but that's another conversation.)

I saw Love, Simon in theaters when it came out my senior year in high school. I saw it three times, once with my friends/parents on opening night, once with my brother over spring break, and once with my grandparents.

On opening night, the air in the room was electric. It was palpable. Half the heads in there were dyed various colors. Queer kids were holding hands. We were all crying and laughing and cheering as a group. My friends grabbed my hands at the part where Simon was outed and didn't let go until his parents were saying that they accepted him. My friend came out to me as non-binary. Another person in our group admitted that she had feelings for girls. It was incredible. I left shaking. This was the first mainstream queer romance movie that had ever been produced by one of the main five studios, and I know that sounds like another "first queer character from Disney" bit but you have to understand that even in 2018 this was groundbreaking. Getting to have a sweet queer rom-com where the main character was told that he got "to breathe now" after coming out meant so much to me and my friends.

But also, from a designed-for-straight-people POV (which, to be frank, it was written by a bisexual author and directed by a gay man, this was not designed for straight audiences), why is it a bad thing that it appealed to the widest possible audience? That it could make my parents and grandparents see things in a new light? My stepdad wasn't at all interested in rom-coms but he saw it with me because it was something I cared about and he hugged me when we came out of the theater. My very Catholic grandparents watched it with me and though my grandpa said he still didn't quite understand the whole 'gay thing,' all he wanted was for me to be happy and to have a happy ending like Simon did. My Nana actually cried when Simon came out and squeeze my hand when his mother told him he could breathe.

And when Martin blackmailed Simon, my mom, badass ally that she is, literally hissed "Dropkick him. Dropkick him in the balls" leading to multiple queer kids in the audience to laugh or smile. Having my parents there- the only parents, by the way, out of my group of queer and questioning friends- made multiple people realize that supportive adults were out there. That parents like those in Love, Simon do exist in real life.

When people complain about Heartstopper not being realistic or Love, Simon being too cutesy, I remember seeing Love, Simon on opening night. I remember my friend coming out and my stepdad hugging me and my mom defending us through this character. I remember the cheers that went through the audience when Bram and Simon kissed and the chatter in the foyer after the movie was over and the way that this movie made me understand that happy endings do exist.

Queer kids need happy endings. Straight people need entry points to becoming allies. Both of these things can come together in beautiful ways. They can find out about more queer culture later, but for now, let them have this. Let them all have a glimpse at a better, happier world. Let them have queer joy.

[cherienymphe]

Lead Us Not Into Temptation

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, mentions of prostitution, mentions of infidelity

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies 

summary: turning your life around is easier said than done when you tempt the very man meant to lead you to salvation.

♱

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned…”

The familiar words tumbled from your lips, and your gaze remained on your lap, eyes following your finger as you traced patterns into the solid black skirt on your frame. It kissed your ankle as you shifted your feet, and the reminder of the long fabric had you swallowing down less than gentle thoughts. You slowly reached up to touch the collar of your shirt, eyes briefly falling closed as you cleared your throat.

You’d spent hours agonizing over how you’d leave the house…

“It has been seven days since my last confession. These are my sins.”

Like clockwork, you listed the time you cursed for some accident or another and the time you took the Lord’s name in vain and the brief impure thought about that attractive man you’d seen in the grocery store. Every week, it was the same. Sins that you yourself would never have considered as such months ago that you were now hyper aware of. They climbed out of your throat seamlessly, remembering every single one until only one was left.

The silence between you and the man just on the other side of that wall stretched—a familiar occurrence—and you took your lip between your teeth. You could taste blood as you worried it, swallowing it down before clearing your throat again. You smoothed your hand over your skirt, and you furiously blinked, struggling to blink away the tears that had started to collect. As you sat in silence, you wondered why you were trying so hard to impress people that had already written you off?

“I’ve had…some hateful thoughts as well.”

You struggled to get the words out, always struck by just how emotional this made you. You looked up towards the ceiling, eyes roaming, and you hadn’t even realized that your breathing had started to pick up until he spoke.

Father Mayhew.

“Take your time,” he gently encouraged. “Speak when you are ready.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard those words, recalling your first ever confessional and how you’d cried. It was as embarrassing now as it was then, but it was necessary. You were determined to live differently now—to be different, now.

“Although I have abandoned my former life and…occupation…” you thought you heard him shift. “...I feel as if I will never truly be forgiven for it.”

You swiped your tongue between your lips.

“...will never be accepted.”

You recalled the eyes that often found their way to you during mass—the judgment, the disdain, the way in which some stared at you as if they didn’t know how to place you. 

Every sunday it was the same. You’d wake up and agonize over how to present yourself in a place as holy as this. You’d fret that this skirt was too short and that dress was too tight. You’d fiddle with your hair for far too long and every lipstick you wiped off would stain your lips a little more than the last. You were constantly at a crossroad, torn between wanting to look nice for church and concerned about looking like…well…a whore.

You struggled to swallow.

“I see the way they look at me,” you eventually whispered, staring at nothing. “I can’t hear what they whisper, but I know it’s about me.”

You touched your throat, hating how tight it felt.

“It’s…discouraging.”

You didn’t want to use that word, but it was the only word that was appropriate. It made you sad, and you often wondered why you kept returning to a place that made you sad. Surely a church wasn’t necessary to ‘find God’...right? You didn’t think so, but you had wanted to start somewhere, and considering that none of your friends even owned a bible, they had been of no help. Stepping foot into a place that had only ever served to be ominous and oppressive in your eyes was the most terrifying thing you’d ever done.

…but then you had laid eyes on Father Mayhew.

He’d been the only one in the church at the time, and you would never forget the curious glint in his dark gaze. You’d had no doubt that he could see you were scared and unsure and in an environment you were wholly unused to. You’d appreciated the gentle way in which he talked to you, guiding you towards a pew in the front as you asked him questions that some people had answers to their entire lives. He hadn’t treated you like you were stupid, but more importantly, he hadn’t treated you like you didn’t belong.

You were willing to bet that he hadn’t even known about you then.

Although, months later, you were willing to bet that he did now…even though you’d never told him.

“Humans are flawed,” his smooth voice reached your ears through the wall. “We all fall short—even the most devout of us—and we find ourselves falling prey to the temptation of judgment…pride…lust…”

You intently listened. After all, he’d never said these words to you before, always giving you some speech about God’s love trumping all.

“I have no doubt that it is trying, but I am sure you will come to give them grace for their sins just as they will give you grace for yours. We are all God’s children striving to lead a life in his image…”

His voice lowered at that, and you frowned slightly, looking towards the wall and thinking to yourself that he almost seemed to be talking to himself now.

“He wants his children to love one another, a feat that is not without difficulty I’m sure you know…” that actually made you hold back a chuckle. “...but God’s love is powerful and he always grants forgiveness to those who genuinely yearn and ask for it.”

At that, you did smile.

You told him that you were truly sorry for your sins, and he told you to say ten Hail Mary’s, and you stepped out of the confessional feeling better than you did thirty minutes ago. You didn’t know how long the feeling would last though, and so you wanted to hold onto it for as long as you could, but you knew from experience that was easier said than done.

You touched the crucifix around your neck as you stepped out of your building.

It had once belonged to your mother, and despite how long she’d been gone and how down on your luck you’d been ever since, you could never quite find it in you to pawn it. It was real gold—probably the only real piece of jewelry you ever owned—but you just couldn’t do it, and you supposed that you were never meant to. Despite the many years you’d lived life as the complete opposite of a God fearing woman…it felt right sitting just below your collarbone.

Even if many would not agree.

You were no stranger to several men in this town—and the ones who often passed through on their truck routes—but that had not stopped you from seeking solace and guidance from a place you’d never stepped foot into in your life. You couldn’t lie and say it didn’t feel…strange to be in the same building as some of the men you’d serviced before, their wives and children at their side as they furiously avoided making eye contact with you. It felt even worse to watch the way the women would congregate together after church, excluding you all the while talking about you.

It felt somewhat pathetic for your only ally in the place to be the priest.

Although you sometimes wondered how true that was these days. You’d never once confessed that you used to be a prostitute—although the kids called it sex work these days—but you weren’t stupid. As godly and devout as they claimed to be, you knew that the church was filled with gossip and there was no telling who’d let it slip to the dark haired man. You knew when he knew though…

…because he looked at you different.

It wasn’t a bad different—thank God for that—but just…different, and while it wasn’t necessarily bad, you still didn’t think you liked it. Confession—being anonymous—never allowed for you to tell him your name, and considering you’d only ever spoken to him once outside of confession months ago, you didn’t know if he ever knew it was you he was talking to. You didn’t know if he knew that the woman he spoke so gently with each week and listened to cry on the other side of some window was the same woman who often shrunk under his heavy gaze as he looked down on his congregation.

You never felt like he was judging you, no, but you also never felt like he was looking at you as he did that first day, a gentle curiosity in his eyes. He wasn’t your friend—far from it in fact—but he felt like the closest thing you had to one in this church, and so you often forced yourself to find excuses for it. He watches you because he wants to make sure you’re settling in okay. He watches you to observe how other members of the church are treating you. He watches you because he’s wondering if you’ll ever come to confession, convincing yourself that he’s never recognized your voice all this time.

That is why he watches you, you told yourself.

No other reason. 

“You always come to pray at least three times a week…”

The familiar voice startled you as you stood, hand lowering as you’d just finished signing the cross. Your hand was still on your chest as you turned to face him, a small smile on your lips as he stood directly in the center of the aisle. You hadn’t even heard him make a single sound, and you wondered how long he’d been standing there.

He slowly returned your smile with one of his own, although it was smaller, and the silent way in which he stared at you reminded you that he’d said something to you. 

“Yes,” you finally said, moving away from the altar. “It helps with…um…really everything.”

He blinked at you, and you noticed that a strand of his hair was threatening to go rogue. He always looked so neat and perfect that it was hard to miss. Father Mayhew was handsome—if anyone had seen enough men to know it was you—but he was handsome in a way that you would categorize as flawless. Divine even. In a way that was untouchable and only meant to be admired in the most innocent of appreciation. 

He slowly nodded at your response, and you didn’t miss the way he studied you—dark eyes drinking you in and taking note of every stylistic choice you’d made today.

“You know, I think I might see your face far more than those who have been coming here for years,” he lightly told you, a slight laugh on his lips.

You laughed with him, only offering him a shrug.

“I’m still new. I’m sure it just seems that way because you aren’t used to seeing me.”

He started to shake his head before you could even finish talking, and you watched him move closer.

“No,” he murmured—so low you almost didn't hear him. “I think you are perhaps my most…devout congregant.”

He touched your crucifix as he said this, dark eyes tracing the shape of it, and he was so close that you could smell his cologne. You blinked at the scent, finding it strange to know that he wore cologne. It shouldn’t be strange, you supposed, but you realized then that you didn’t quite view priests—view him—as human. As normal…

His eyes lifted then to finally connect with yours, and a crooked smile danced along his pink lips.

“It’s admirable,” he whispered. “More of my congregation could stand to follow your lead.”

You couldn’t ignore the way your chest bloomed at those words, almost hating how much validation you wanted from this place. Validation that you were a good person…you weren’t who you used to be…that you were worthy of something more, you didn’t know. It just felt relieving to hear such a compliment from Father Mayhew when no one else in the church would even give you a chance.

“Thank you, Father,” you quietly replied to him. “That means a lot to me.”

You watched him slowly inhale as he dropped his hand, and he seemed even slower to step out of your way. When you walked past him, you could feel his gaze on you—always watching—and you smiled when he called out to you, telling you that he looked forward to seeing you on Sunday.

No one was more sad than you when you had to disappoint him.

An unexpected cold had you bedridden for days, and while you knew that an illness was a perfectly valid excuse to miss church, you couldn’t swallow down the disappointment. You hadn’t missed a single Sunday since you first started going, and you thought to yourself that the first thing you’d do when you returned was explain your absence to Father Mayhew.

You had never anticipated him showing up at your door to get it himself.

No one ever knocked on your door these days, so the sound had taken you by surprise. Your friends—while supportive of the direction your life had taken—didn’t quite understand it and so you didn’t see them as often, and as for anyone else… Well, there wasn’t anyone else who would come knocking on your door. You didn’t do that anymore so no customers were going to be greeting you on the other side with their money in their hand and an eager grin on their lips, and you doubted any of the women in town would want to sit down for a chat anytime soon.

Your shock at Father Mayhew’s presence was all over your face.

“Father,” you stated, the lilt in your voice hinting at your surprise.

He looked just as you were used to seeing him—clerical collar still on, not a hair out of place, and a hint of a smile on those pink lips. You stood there gaping at him for all of five seconds before it struck you how rude you were probably being.

“I…I’m so sorry. Um…come in,” you told him, stepping out of the way and widening the gap in the doorway.

He didn’t respond nor move right away, looking past you into your small house with a look in his gaze that you couldn’t name. If he were anyone else, you might worry that he was judging where you lived. You watched his jaw briefly tighten, a noticeable strain in his face, and it only just occurred to you that maybe this wasn’t appropriate? Although you were positive you’d heard of priests and pastors visiting the sick before, and while you certainly weren’t on your deathbed, you didn’t see why this would be different.

Before you could say another word though, his foot crossed the threshold, and you closed the door behind him.

“I do apologize for the unexpected visit,” he said to you, gazing around before his eyes landed on you again. “...but when I noticed that mass was absent of a face I’d grown to look forward to, I became concerned.”

You couldn’t stop your smile at his words

“Oh,” you softly said. “Well, there’s no need to be concerned. It’s just a small cold that will be gone in a day or two.”

You watched him exhale at that, nodding to himself, and you studied him, surprised to see that he looked genuinely relieved at that.

“I’m glad to hear that’s all it is…”

At that, your brows furrowed, and you watched him slowly walk about your living room.

“I had feared that some of your fellow church goers had scared you off.”

Your lips parted at his words, and he turned and looked at you.

“They often fall into the temptation of judgment, after all…”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you didn’t know how to react with the knowledge that he knew it was you who came to see him once a week. You’d only spoken to him face to face twice, and you swallowed, looking away.

“I thought it would be a shame if they scared you off,” he confessed, and you noted that he was closer now. “I wondered what I would have to do to convince you to come back. Drag you, perhaps.”

You gave a soft laugh at that, although he didn’t join you, and it awkwardly faded. He stared at you in silence for what felt like a long time, and just when you were considering asking him if he wanted anything to drink, he reached out to touch the crucifix around your neck again.

“So devout,” he quietly said to himself. “It almost makes me ashamed…”

At that, you gave a heavy laugh, wondering how you could ever shame a priest.

“Why?”

“...because I see why they flocked to your door…money in hand.”

His gaze lifted as he said that, and you were still as you both just stared at each other. His words made you blink, and you were suddenly very aware of his hand practically on you. You couldn’t stop the slight frown that fell over your face, and for the first time in months—since you first stepped foot into that church—you felt…wrong.

“I see why their eyes trace every inch of you when you’re not looking…as if to relive the memory of what you felt like—tasted like.”

You finally took a step back, hand coming up to cover your necklace as if protecting it from his touch.

“What memories they must have of you…”

You wrapped your other arm around yourself, mind whirling to reconcile the man before you with the same man who’d always been so welcoming and gentle. Not once did you ever think he judged you for your past, and you supposed that you were right, but not once did you ever think he also might…

You hadn’t done that in over a year, but had it really escaped you so quickly that a seemingly devout man was still…a man?

“Father, I think you should-.”

“I don’t say any of this to offend you,” he interrupted, tilting his head. “I say it because I fight the urge to touch you every time you’re in my presence.”

You moved by him to make your way to the door, but like an ever present shadow you only just noticed, he was close behind.

“You can cover up as much as you’d like—wear skirts down to your ankle and shirts up to your chin…” his hand on the door halted your movements. 

You felt his chest just barely grazing your back, and his lips followed suit, the softness of them brushing against your ear as he spoke. That familiar cologne invaded your senses.

“...but none of it can hide the temptation you pose by merely existing.”

You shrunk away from him at that, tears in your eyes as he verbalized the same fears you had every time you walked into the building. You flinched when his lips touched the back of your neck, heart dropping to your stomach, but you reached for the door handle anyway.

“Father, I’d like you to leave-.”

Your words were cut off by your own sharp scream, taken aback by the feel of his fingers harshly pressing into the skin of your throat. His hand rested on the back of your neck, and you pressed your hand to the door when his lips grazed your cheek.

“They’re all like rabid dogs…just waiting to pounce,” he mused against your skin, sliding between you and the door and forcing you further into your house with every step. “Just waiting for you to give up this charade and go back to taking their money for a quick fuck.”

You blinked, and a few tears escaped.

“...but they don’t know you like I know you.”

He grinned against your cheek, and you winced as he lightly nipped at the skin there.

“They don’t know that you come to church at least thrice a week to light candles and pray…”

You were full on sobbing now, and you could feel the cool metal of his ring against the back of your neck.

“They don’t know that you never miss your weekly confession, telling me every time you so much as say the Lord’s name in vain.”

His free hand was reaching for the buttons of your shirt, popping them open one by one, and you gasped when his fingers finally met skin. He dipped his head, mouth finding the skin of your shoulder and collarbone interesting before his hand searched for your wrist.

“They don’t know that you are the most pious woman to walk through those doors,” he purred, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of your wrist. “...and that I just want to ruin you for it.”

When his hand dipped between your legs, you were quick to try and stop him, still wincing at the tight grip on the back of your neck. Father Mayhew made a noise of disapproval, and your hand faltered when he harshly bit your shoulder.

“We are…and always will be…sinners…”

Once his fingers were inside of you, it was like the point of no return. You found it funny that he likened the men in church to that of rabid dogs when he himself was behaving like the very thing he used to insult them. When your knees buckled, he followed—one arm around you and holding you in place while the fingers on his other hand curved into you.

Every thrust of his fingers made you wetter—embarrassingly so—and when he pulled your head back, he forced a kiss onto your lips. He swallowed down your whimpers and noises of protest, a moan escaping him as he tasted the inside of your mouth. With him so close to you, you could feel the muscles and contours of his frame beneath his clothes, and you were forced to recognize your predicament and his strength and what that meant for you.

When you were face to face with him again, his hair was nowhere near as neat as it was when he first walked through your door. His pink lips were swollen and reddened from kissing you and dragging over your skin. Your pajama top had long been discarded, the bottoms long ripped and pulled off of you. Father Mayhew’s—Charlie—clerical collar was long gone, his shirt pulled open and hanging off of him.

You recalled the way your mouth had parted into an ‘O’ shape when the head of his cock finally dipped into you, stretching you with every inch and making your heart momentarily stop. His hand covered a breast, the feel of his ring cooling that singular part of your skin, the rest of you so overheated. His other hand was wrapped around your throat, and you clawed at his hand as he fucked you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in your tiny home, the only sound to rival it being his harsh grunts and your strained voice. Any fight that you’d put up had been quickly squashed down, shown in the harshest manner just how strong your priest was. You hated how good it felt, hated that you didn’t want this but was now forced to enjoy it. Nevermind the fact that you hadn’t enjoyed sex for the act itself in years…

…but of all people to find yourself in this predicament with.

Father Mayhew’s hands never stayed in one place for long. He seemed determined to touch every part of you he could get his hands on, lips tasting the saltiness of your skin. Sweat clung to your frame and his, his fingers sliding over you as he kneaded your thighs and your waist and your chest. Every time you reminded yourself how wrong this was, he’d push his cock into you to the hilt, and you’d involuntarily throw your head back.

You could feel your crucifix pressing into your skin, and your eyes watered.

“I must admit that I was—am—jealous,” he dragged out, voice hoarse and throaty and wholly unlike how you were used to hearing him. “Your devotion to God inspires an envy within me that I never knew existed.”

You took note of the scars on his back underneath your fingers.

“...a desire to have you completely devoted to me,” he bit out, covering your lips with his own. “You so desperately desire forgiveness and acceptance…and all the things you didn’t think you were worthy of having.”

He harshly thrust into you, making you gasp.

“...and I can give that to you,” he whispered into the kiss.

The power behind his thrusts had you scratching at both his back and the floor, eyes squeezing shut at the way his fingers dug into your skin. It was like he was both holding you to him and trying to prevent you from ever walking away. Your chest arched up into his as you gasped, choked whimpers climbing out of your throat with every push of his hips. He growled against your skin as his lips traveled to your neck, the sound almost demonic to your ears.

When you came around him—your first orgasm in over a year—you couldn’t swallow down the noise it forced out of you. You could feel blood beneath your nails and a slickness on the inside of your thighs, but all the while Father Mayhew didn’t stop.

With one hand pressed against the floor, he pushed himself up to look down at you. His free hand slid up your sweaty frame, coming up to wrap around the crucifix that rested against your skin. He tightened his hold around it, and he pulled on it, forcing you to lift your head and meet him halfway for a kiss.

“I want you just as eager to get on your knees for me…”