#priest Frankie | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sofiaispunk · 2 years ago

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Hot priest Morales. Thats it. that's the request

btw love your dbf series!

Sacred Temptations

pairings: priest!Francisco Morales x Reader AU

a/n: Thank you so much, beautiful! fuck YESSS hot priest Morales is making me feel all kind of things rn. I immediately pictured him as Pedro at the Oscars with his white slutty little buttonup. Thank you for your request! I really appreciate you and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think and if I should make a part 2 maybe?

words: 2k

warnings: religion, smut, flirting, forbidden romance, bratty reader, blasphemy, inappropriate behavior, 18+

You reluctantly followed your parents' lead as they made their way to the local church for Sunday mass. Your outfit for the day reflected your style and individuality, a short blush dress, which barely covered your body. The dress had delicate ruffles along the hemline, adding a touch of femininity to your attire. You paired it with a light cardigan, casually draped over your shoulders, providing at least a bit modesty.

Throughout your life, you had never been particularly fond of churches. The rigid traditions, the solemn rituals - they had always felt foreign to your free-spirited nature. Sunday mornings were often spent indulging in your own pursuits, watching Netflix, brunching with friends or lazily laying in bed, far removed from the pews and hymns.

However, as you returned from college for the summer, something within you had shifted.

Perhaps it was the newfound sense of maturity or maybe it was the desire to reconnect with your roots and understand your own beliefs better. Whatever the reason, you made a conscious decision to join your parents on their weekly visit to church.

As you entered the church, your eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the ornate stained glass windows, the flickering candlelight, and the peaceful atmosphere. Amidst the congregation, your gaze fell upon the priest, who stood at the pulpit, preparing to deliver the sermon.

You found yourself momentarily drawn to his presence, observing how he engaged with the congregation, his gestures emphasizing his words, and his voice carrying a soothing tone. His light brown hair, sleekly gelled back, added a touch of refinement to his overall look. However, scattered throughout his hair were subtle streaks of grey, hinting at the wisdom and experience he possessed.

A neatly trimmed, patchy beard adorned his face, accentuating his rugged charm. It framed his jawline, which was sharp and defined, lending him an air of strength and determination. His broad shoulders hinted at physical presence, giving him a commanding stance as he stood before the congregation.

Curiosity gnawing at you, you turned to your mother, who sat beside you , and leaned in to whisper a question. "Mom, who is the new priest? I don't think I've seen him before."

Your mother, engrossed in the beginning of the service, momentarily glanced at you and then followed your gaze toward the young priest. With a warm smile, she whispered back, "That's Father Francisco. He recently joined our parish. He is a lovely man. Father Francisco has been a guiding light for our community. He's been instrumental in organizing outreach programs, helping the less fortunate, and supporting charitable initiatives. The impact he's made on our community is truly inspiring and a true blessing.”

You nodded, taking in your mother's words. The intrigue surrounding Francisco only intensified as you listened to your mother's description.

As the Sunday service progressed, you couldn't help but feel a peculiar sensation, as if you were being watched. You shifted your gaze and found yourself locking eyes with Father Francisco. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as your gazes met, and an unspoken connection seemed to form.

Surprised by the intensity of the eye contact, a familiar heat rose in your core. However, instead of looking away, you felt an unexpected surge of boldness within you. Perhaps it was the curiosity sparked by your doubts, or the desire to seek answers, but you decided to seize the opportunity and act upon this newfound courage.

Determined to engage in a conversation with Father Francisco, you waited until the end of the service when the parishioners started dispersing. As people began to leave the pews, you approached the young priest, your steps deliberate and your mind racing with desire.

With a deep breath, you stood before Father Francisco, and mustered the courage to initiate a conversation.

"Father Francisco," you began, your voice steady and lower as usual. “I was hoping you could spare a moment of your time.”

“Of course, my child. What can I do for you? I believe we have never met before.”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you challenged Father Francisco's claim of not seeing you before.

“Father, are you truly suggesting that you haven't laid eyes on me in this sacred space until now? I find that hard to believe. Perhaps I simply didn't catch your attention until today.” you laid it on thick, making sure to flutter your eyelashes innocently.

“My apologies for not giving you the attention you deserve. It seems I'll have to make amends for that oversight. But I assure you, I am honored to make your acquaintance now.” The corners of his mouth curved into a gentle smile, his eyes mirroring the twinkle of your own.

You leaned in in slightly, the playful tone never leaving your voice. “Well, Father, it appears that divine intervention has finally led you to notice my presence. I must say, it's quite flattering to have captured the attention of such a captivating priest.”

“Ah, I don‘t think flattery will get you anywhere. But what is it you wanted to talk to me about, my child?“ he smiled at you, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

“There’s something plaquing my mind lately, something I haven't experienced in a long time. I'm not familiar with the process of confession. And I was wondering if you could help me, confess my sins?“ you asked innocently, your teeth grazing your bottom lip while your fingers played with the hem of your dress.

“I see. Come to the confessional after next week's mass. We can sit down and discuss the things that weigh heavily on your heart.” As he began to respond, your conversation was unexpectedly interrupted by a line of people forming, seeking his guidance and counsel. You, understanding the demands on the priest's time, gracefully stepped back.

“Well, Father, it seems you are a man in demand. I won't keep you from attending to the needs of your flock. I’ll see you next week, then.”

You offered a playful wink before making your way out of the church, subtly swaying your hips.

Surprising your parents, who had grown accustomed to your reluctance to attend church voluntarily, you made your way to the church the following Sunday. Feeling bold and sexy you opted for a green two-piece lingerie set adorned with subtle lace details, which flattered your skin tone perfectly. You threw on a modest high neck white dress on top which made you appear extra innocent.

Seating yourself in the front row, like a diligent Christian, you eagerly awaited the arrival of Father Francisco.

The Sunday mass took place as usual, without any noteworthy incidents.

Midway through the service, though, you uncrossed your legs, inadvertently capturing Father Francisco's attention, causing a faint blush to color his cheeks. His words momentarily faltered, a subtle indication that your presence had made an impact.

Father Francisco regained his composure, seamlessly continuing the service with his priestly duties. Though his gaze occasionally drifted towards you, he maintained his professionalism, determined to carry out his responsibilities.

You, too, were aware of the effect you had on the priest. A playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you observed his momentary distraction.

After the last strains of the closing hymn faded away, and the majority of the parishioners left the church, you seized the opportunity to approach the confessional. With each step, your heart beat a little faster, a mix of nervousness and anticipation filling you.

The confessional stood at the back of the church, tucked away in a quiet corner. Its wooden structure, weathered with time, carried an air of solemnity and reverence.

You approached the confessional, noticing the ornately carved wooden door adorned with intricate religious symbols. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly, and gently pushing it open. The door creaked softly, as if welcoming you into its sacred confines.

Inside, the confessional revealed two compartments separated by a latticed screen—a space for the penitent and a space for the priest. Soft, golden light filtered through stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns onto the wooden panels.

Taking a seat on the worn cushioned bench, you found yourself enveloped in a sense of hushed tranquility.

In the dimly lit space, you could make out the faint silhouette of the priest's side.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned. That’s what I am supposed to say, right?” you said, your voice hushed, almost sensual.

“Lately, my thoughts have wandered to someone who is unattainable. Someone who is meant to inspire and guide, yet remains just out of reach. But I can’t help it, I can’t seem to stop thinking about him at night, think about his big hands and how they would feel on me. About how his big cock would feel deep inside of me. These impure thoughts plague me at night, but they plaque you too, don’t they, daddy?“

Your breathing became heavier as you continue. “Tell me, do you think about me? About your big dick filling up my tight little cunt. Putting your big hands in to my little panties, working me open with those thick fingers of yours. Tell me, Frankie, how badly you want to fuck me. “You shifted on your seat, your thighs rubbing together relieving some of the tension, your own words riling you up. “I can be your little good girl, you know. Just say the words.”

You sank deeper into the plush cushions, Slick arousal pooling in your panties at the thought of him being only a few inches away from you. The tension and the longing became too strong, and you slipped your hand under your already soaked panties. You let out a small whimper as you dragged your wetness up to your clit, rubbing small circles on it. “Oh, fuck Frankie. I am so wet for you. “ you let head fall back, moaning his name loudly. “Can you hear how wet I am? Just let me sit on your face, Frankie. I want to make your whole face wet with my juices. “ You pant, unable to believe that you are so close to cumming after such little time of playing with yourself.

In an act of playful audacity, you reached down and slid your now ruined panties down your legs. With a sly grin, you slipped the fabric through the narrow slit, allowing it to dangle enticingly between the little gate that separated you from the priest.

You held your breath, anticipation mingling with a hint of nervous excitement, hoping you didn’t go too far this time. Moments stretched into eternity as you waited for a response, your heart beat thundering louder with every passing second. Then, amidst the silence, you watched as the priest's hand reached through the small slit and carefully retrieved the green lacy piece you offered. A faint rustle accompanied the movement, and then, silence enveloped the confessional once more .

But it was not the quiet that captured your attention; it was the deep, audible inhale that followed, that made another flood of arousal coat your fingers.

Then, only mere moments later you could hear his sounds. Lustful groans filled the small space.

The furious slapping of his fist as he worked his cock made the tension coil in your own stomach. “Tell me what you want Frankie, you want me on my knees, huh, worshipping your cock?” another loud grunt. “Ahhh, yah that’s it. I wish my mouth was on that dick too, baby. I want to swirl my tongue around it. I bet your cock tastes fucking amazing. I’m going to drain every last ounce of cum out of you.”

“Oh, God,” he let out one final strangled sound that almost sounded like he was in pain, reaching his climax. You followed soon after, clenching down on your fingers hard, shouting out his his name.

As you both came down from your high, only your breaths were audible.

“I'm not quite familiar with how this whole confession thing works. Do I need to say a dozen "Hail Marys" or perform a few extra penances to make up for that?” you asked innocently, awaiting his answer, but you were only met with, once again, silence.

Suddenly the heavy wooden door separating you swung open, revealing Father Francisco standing before you. His gaze intense and focused solely on you, “No.” he growled, letting out a low, almost predatory laugh, “that’s only reserved for good girls.”

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nerdieforpedro · 1 year ago

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Another Update 🤗

Frankie Friday fic is scheduled for tomorrow morning! 🤗 Frankie is a bit mean like me. 😩

Working on Dieter, chapter 2. Close to done, I gotta do more research about rich people shit. 🤣 I don’t know much about it.

Feel like writing an Agent Whiskey fic but not sure where to start. I gotta outline it or just throw some stuff at the wall.

Priest Din is coming along. It would be my first fic about him. 🖤

Working on my smut skills. I’d like to get to the level of so many writers on here. The descriptions, the invocation of feelings, thoughts and emotions, I wanna to that one day. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin #joel miller #dieter bravo #family #frankie morales #nerdie thinks aloud #writing #priest din

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xoseduce-and-destroyox · 2 years ago

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My favorite priest right now father Frankie cicero he the kind of priest to see a woman for a few weeks knowing that one day she'll take him and he won't fight back.

#religion kink #priest kink #hierophilia #catholic #hot priests #father Frankie cicero #father Frankie #he is the drama #he is the drama for acting all cute n shit like he don't know.

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denimbex1986 · 1 year ago

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'Have you experienced a strange kind of delirium right before waking up from a dream? Especially when a dream is so lucid and visceral that it feels real. There’s even a stretch when one is simultaneously aware they’re dreaming, but also immersed in it like it’s really happening. A majority of Andrew Haigh’s All Of Us Strangers takes place in a delirium like this.

Adam (Andrew Scott), a lonely screenwriter residing in a ghostly apartment building in London where he’s one of the two occupants, spends a large part of his day gazing into a distance. He’s either staring at a blank word document on his laptop whose blinking cursor is measuring his time wasted, or mindlessly watching TV while chomping snacks. It doesn’t seem like he has friends (not nearby, at least) and he looks accustomed to microwave dinners and leftovers.

His solitude is threatened when his only neighbour Harry (Paul Mescal) shows up at the door, visibly inebriated and slightly on edge. He asks Adam how he copes with the silence of their area, without throwing himself off the balcony. When Harry invites himself in, Adam turns him away politely, almost instantly regretting it. Adam is battling writer’s block, and it seems like he’s also spent a lifetime running away from relationships. A spot decision to look at his childhood things (for inspiration) causes him to visit his parents’ home in the suburbs. While walking around in the neighbourhood, he bumps into his father (Jamie Bell), who invites him to come pay his mother (Claire Foy) a visit. What makes this meeting out of the ordinary is – Adam’s parents died when he was 12. “A car crash,” Adam tells Harry, the writer in him groaning at the cliche.

Haigh’s film is an adaptation of a 1987 Japanese novel by Taichi Yamada called Strangers. As much as it traverses the supernatural/magic-realism path, the grief and longing here is deeply personal. Having missed out on living his teenage years with his parents, Adam becomes a recurring visitor at his parents’ home. Note the obedience in Scott’s eyes, like he suddenly transformed into the shy, awkward adolescent they left behind.

He comes out to them as a gay man – resulting in two exceptionally touching scenes. Foy is exquisite as a mother grappling with memories of unconditional love for Adam’s 12-year-old version, her ‘80s mindset clashing with contemporary progressive values, while still concerned for her son’s loneliness and health. Her immediate question is around a disease she heard about on TV. Similarly, Bell is measured as the ‘alpha’ Dad, who smokes like it’s a fashion statement. But who also surprises his son with his generosity and introspection. It’s almost like Adam is concocting his own revisionist version of his growing up years, to overcome the pain of growing up isolated – which probably played a part in making him an even more isolated adult.

The more he reconnects with his parents, the more Adam finds himself opening up to Harry. Haigh’s film creates the perfect time capsule, as the 80s music becomes more and more prominent (Pet Shop Boys, Frankie Goes to Hollywood), almost as a way of indicating that telling his parents about his unspoken desires, might have freed him enough to profess being attracted to another man. Mescal, in another haunted performance (after last year’s Aftersun) of a man putting up the confident, assertive act while being completely shattered within, is a sight to behold. As Adam’s young lover, Harry brings a recklessness to the dynamic, which the former never allowed himself. Haigh films the sex scenes between Adam and Harry with a directness, as they explore each other’s bodies without the shame that’s been conditioned into them from a young age.

Haigh, who made the similarly devastating 45 Years (his economy could be mistaken for him being distant), brings his fleeting touch here too. He maintains the plot’s ambiguity till the end – is Adam’s writing assignment resulting in him visualising these hyper-real conversations? Is he ‘healing’ through these conversations? Or is he losing his mind? Will these visits take a toll on his relationship with Harry – who, in one scene, realises he will have to step up as the caregiver.

All of Us Strangers is brimming with great performances, but it’s best described as an Andrew Scott showcase. Best known for playing Moriarty in Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock and a priest in Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag – Scott brings his most pared-down version for the part of Adam. He almost physically contracts himself around his parents, and gets comfortable in his own body beside his lover. It’s the best example of body-language acting I’ve seen in the last year.

Haigh knows exactly how to leverage the school-boy kindness in Scott’s eyes, and tip him over during the film’s eerie scenes. And yet, a certain kind of love and longing permeate through a majority of the film’s 100-minute runtime, even when it turns into a fever dream. Would you lose your mind to speak to your dead parents for a few more minutes? What does unconditional love really mean – would you embrace a partner consumed by their loneliness? Would you lie beside them and offer them comfort when there’s little to no chance of this effort being reciprocated? All of Us Strangers marinates in these questions, not pretending to fully know the answers.'

#All of Us Strangers #Andrew Haigh #Andrew Scott #Moriarty #Benedict Cumberbatch #Sherlock #Hot Priest #Phoebe Waller-Bridge #Fleabag #Paul Mescal #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #Taichi Yamada #Strangers #45 Years #Pet Shop Boys #Frankie Goes to Hollywood

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mostbelovedaewwrestlertournament · 1 year ago

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Most Beloved WWE Wrestler Tournament

#wwe #wwf #damian priest #franky monet #most beloved wwe wrestler tournament

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akitasimblr · 2 years ago

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what is going on here?!😳

🖤 previous | next🖤

@simsinfinitylt @sims4thehoes @mdshh @agena87 @whimsicalsimmies @bloomingkyras @moonfromearth @omazake @wastelandwhisperer @jonquilyst @igotsnothing @morgynemberisagenderfluiddaddy @invisiblequeen @seyvia @estah @upstated @adoringsentiment @plumbboo @simbico @obsoletepixels @falsetochild

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poolboyservice · 2 years ago

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Y'all I just found out you have to be at least 25 to be a priest, that means that Gerard Way could have 100% tried to become a priest in 2002 just for fun while they were making I Brought You My Bullets

#*after some gay ass sex* oh yeah by the way guys I'm a Catholic priest uh #*throwing tiny crosses homemade by paper* SORRY THIS IS MY FIRST DAY AS A PRIEST UHM!! HORAYYY GETTING FUCKED BY A VAMPIRE #those previous tags r actually canon I saw it #franky posts

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dontlookatme121 · 28 days ago

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(Smut) Fic Recs

Pedro Pascal characters, including Javier Peña, (mostly) Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Oberyn Martell, Marcus Acacius, and Lucien de Leon.

fic recs from a girl who spends too much time reading smut.

WARNING: PLEASE read the warnings on these fics; almost all of them contain smut, dark themes, and other sensitive topics. read at your own risk. EXPLICIT 18+, MDNI.

Javier Peña

One-Shots:

FYBF by @almostempty | javier x f!reader

Just Friends by @punkshort | Javier Peña x f!reader

Maneater by @probablyreadinsmut | Javier Peña X Afab!Reader

Murphy’s Sister by @absurdthirst | Javier Peña x F!Reader

Not So Secret Santa by @lincolndjarin | javier peña x fem!reader

Purgatory by @gothcsz | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader x Fem!OC

Strangers by @joelmillerisapunk | Stripper!Javier Peña x f!reader

Series:

Thoroughfare by @gothcsz | Javier Peña x Original Female Character | (Ongoing)

★ my fav fic. you should read it & everything else by Kat!

Fantasize by gothcsz | javier peña x fem!reader | (Ongoing)

Neighbors by gothcsz | javier peña x f!reader | (Complete)

Salvatore by @devilmademewriteit | javier peña x afab!fem!reader | (Last updated 03/2023)

(Un)Faithful by probablyreadinsmut | Rbf!Javier Peña x Married F!Reader | (Ongoing)

Unscripted Desire by gothcsz | Pornstar!Javier x Pornstar!OFC x Fem!Reader | (Ongoing)

Joel Miller

One-Shots:

blurred lines by stellamarielu | joel miller x female reader

But daddy, I love him! by @sanarsi | older boyfriend!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Cherub by @thechaoticcherub | Priest!Joel Miller x reader

Dusk by gothcsz | No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader

Euphoria by sanarsi | professor!Joel Miller x student!f!Reader

For Cryin’ Out Loud by @gracieheartspedro | post-outbreak! joel miller x fem!reader

handsy by @stellamarielu | joel miller x female reader

I'm Happy Where The Devils Are by @dilf-docs | dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

Just This Once by punkshort | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

love thy neighbour by @ace-turned-confused | joel miller x f!reader

Middle of the Night by @frannyzooey | Joel Miller x f!Reader

Not Your Daddy by @celiababy | Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

october's end. by @salingers | joel miller x f!reader

room for three by @morning-star-joy | joel miller x f!reader x arthur morgan

The Christmas Auction by absurdthirst | Joel Miller x F!Reader

TRICK OR TREAT by @maiamore | No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader

Tomb rider by @joelspeach | dbf!Joel x female reader

feels so right by @fake-bleach | dbf!joel miller x reader

You're a Daydream, Stay A While by dilf-docs | joel miller x younger!reader

Series:

cowboy like me by @macfrog | dbf!joel miller x f!reader | (Complete)

Dark Shades of Innocence by @mermaidgirl30 | club owner/pleasure dom! Joel x fem! reader | (Complete)

Fourth of July by jrrmint | dbf!joel miller x f!reader | (AO3 Complete)

Give in Again by @pocketfullofkouhuns | No-outbreak!Joel x f!reader | (Complete)

i'll be home for christmas by punkshort | (Hallmark) Joel Miller x f!reader | (Ongoing)

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise by @littlcdarlin | DBFJoel x f!Reader | (Complete)

right kind of dream by almostempty | joel miller x f!reader | (Complete)

slasher joel by @toxicanonymity | dark!Joel Miller x f!reader | (Ongoing)

Smooth Operator by @penascigarette | Joel Miller x F!Phone Sex Worker | (Ongoing)

swept away by punkshort | Joel Miller x f!reader | (Season 2 ongoing)

The F*CK IT LIST by @auteurdelabre | DBFJoel x f!Reader | (Ongoing)

unbeneath and you under my skin. by @tokkiwrites | mom's fiancé/bf! joel miller x f! | (Ongoing, last updated 11/2024)

worship by @mssalo | Joel Miller x married!f!Reader | (Complete)

i’ve read a lot more joel miller smut than i could’ve ever anticipated (ily dbf!joel)

Frankie Morales

Series:

The boyfriend act by @capuccinodoll | Frankie Morales x F!reader | (Ongoing)

Oberyn Martell

One-Shots:

The Watcher by absurdthirst | Modern!Oberyn Martell x F!Reader x Ellaria Sand

What’s Love Got to Do with It by almostempty | oberyn x f!reader

Marcus Acacius

One-Shots:

III by gothcsz | Marcus Acacius x Fem!Reader x Lucius Verus Aurelius

Blood Favor by @pedgito | Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Prima Nocta by @fuckyeahdindjarin | Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

The Farmer's Daughter by punkshort | Marcus Acacius x f!reader

The Future of Rome by absurdthirst | Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Lucien de Leon

One-Shots:

Shameless by @milla-frenchy | Lucien de Leon x fem reader

there are some of the fics i've read and enjoyed since getting back into fanfiction in july 2024. it's a lot more than i expected, approximately 55. ill be posting monthly fic recs beginning march 2025.

thank you to all these fantastic authors who keep me up at night as i consume unreasonable amounts of smut. you're all amazing <3

dividers by @enchanthings

(updated 2/23/2025)

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baronessvonglitter · 2 months ago

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I read so many fics over the holidays and found great new (well, new to me) authors. Starting next month I'll be doing monthly fic recs instead because whoa.. this is a lot ❤️

Please take time to read these stories, and others by these creative and beautiful people 💫 And mind the tags, as the majority of these blogs are 18+ and come with their own warnings.

dividers by @plum98 👑

Joel Miller

Borrowed Time by @aurorawritestoescape ~ Joel x f!reader

Darkest Desires by @myownwholewildworld ~ Boston QZ!Joel x f!reader.

Fade Into You by @probablyreadinsmut ~ Joel x Afab! Reader

Girl Dinner by @slimybeth69 ~ kidnapped!Joel x isolated&unhinged&potentially crazy!reader

A good grade by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Perv Art Professor!Joel x afab!reader

Guilty Pleasure by @for-a-longlongtime ~ dbf!Joel x reader

A Hell of a Morning by @aurorawritestoescape ~ Stepdad!Joel x f!reader

It feels like hope by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Hot Priest!Joel x f!reader

Lock the Gate by @almostfoxglove ~ Joel x f!reader

The Older One by @frannyzooey ~ Joel x f!reader

Overloaded by @katiexpunk ~ Joel and Tommy Miller X fem!Reader

Pregame Play by @joelmillerisapunk ~ Dbf!Joel x reader

Seeing Pink by @gutsby ~ Joel x Reader

Texas Red by @studioghibelli ~ Joel x reader

this one thing you did by @joelscruff ~ Joel x f!reader

Three Strikes by @maiamore ~ Joel x f!reader

Unwrapped by @sunshinehaze1 ~ Joel x f!reader (f. Marcus Acacius & Lucilla Aurelius)

The Warden by @arcanefox207 ~ GameWarden!Joel x F!Reader

you got me thinkin' nonsense by @joelmillerisapunk ~ Dbf!Joel x F!reader

Dave York

In Vino Veritas by @yxtkiwiyxt ~ dave x f!reader

The Lonely Space Between Floors by @morallyinept ~ Dave x F!Reader

One Day at a Time by @drewharrisonwriter ~ Dave x Female Reader

A Quiet Neighborhood by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Dave x f!reader

The Road Not Taken by @guiltyasdave ~ Dave x f!reader

Under False Pretenses by @joelalorian ~ stepdad!dave x f!reader

Javier Pena

How could you love somebody like me? by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ f!reader x Javier

Lost and Found by @oliveksmoked ~ Javier x f!reader

A New Year's Distraction by @lotusbxtch ~ Javier + f!Reader

Pump by @morallyinept ~ Javier x GN!Reader

Marcus Pike

Merry Christmas, baby by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Marcus P x f!reader

Sign Here, Please by @inept-the-magnificent ~ Marcus P X f!Reader

Dieter Bravo

A Better Man by @drewharrisonwriter ~ Dieter x reader

Din Djarin

Best Kept Secret by @lincolndjarin ~ bodyguard!din x princess!reader

Pero Tovar

Baron Tovar Takes a Wife by @604to647 ~ Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero x fem!reader

Confession by @sawymredfox ~ Pero x fem able-bodied reader

Marcus Acacius

Searching for the Stars Pt. 2 by @the-mandawhor1an ~ Marcus A x f!Reader

Frankie Morales

Extra cream and sugar by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Frankie x f!reader

Multi/Other

Blackmail by @milla-frenchy ~ Javier Pena x fem reader x Joel Miller

Cosmic Love by @kedsandtubesocks ~ Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

Datura by @suzdin ~ Joel Miller x f!reader x Dave York

Don't say a word if this word is not "please" by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ General!Marcus Acacius X slave trader!Javier Peña

Fuckboy by @sizzlingcloudmentality ~ unnamed ppu character x f!reader

Paris, Texas by @almostempty ~ Joel Miller x Javier Pena x f!reader

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denimbex1986 · 1 year ago

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“Is this real?”

The connections to our past can be tenuous, where we lose grasp of even simple memories or they can tether us to them in a way that those foundational moments keep us from achieving any level of personal growth. How often do we get to revisit or relitigate our past and if given the chance, would we?

In Andrew Haigh’s electrifying new film, All of Us Strangers, we’re introduced to Adam (Andrew Scott), a late 40’s film and television writer living alone in a seemingly deserted high-rise on the outskirts of London. He’s working on a script about his working class parents set in the 1980s but can’t seem to get past INT. SUBURBAN HOME. He obsessively watches Top of the Pops, listens to Frankie Goes to Hollywood and attempts to conjure up inspiration by looking at old family photographs of him and parents, who both died in a car accident when Adam was 12. Loosely adapted from Taichi Yamada’s Japan-set 1987 novel, Haigh switches up gender, location and sexualities for his most ambitious film to date – a love story, a ghost story and a story of letting go.

During a fire alarm in his apartment complex, Adam spots a figure multiple floors up who has yet to come down and join the meager amount of people who populate the massive building. Soon enough the mysterious stranger appears at his door in the form of Harry (Paul Mescal), bottle of Japanese whisky in hand, making a very forward pass at Adam, who politely rebuffs the advances of the younger, attractive but slightly creepy stranger. Imagine saying no to Mescal? Couldn’t be me, but I digress.

The casting of Mescal, who is absolutely incredible here, is quite perfect and almost eerie. There is a sense, if you’re an adventurous viewer, that All of Us Strangers could be a bit of a spiritual sequel to last year’s Aftersun, featuring Mescal’s Oscar-nominated turn. There isn’t a literal connection between the films other than Mescal but it’s enough to imagine a cinematic universe where they are, especially for a metaphysical and metaphorical story like this.

And it is the metaphysical and metaphorical returning to his childhood home that gives Adam’s story its weight. His nostalgic thoughts of his dead parents begin to consume him and something shifts when he takes the train back to his hometown. Between the subtle cues of Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch’s reflective score and the hazy allure of cinematographer Jamie Ramsay’s 35mm lens, we’re ever so subtly taken back 30 years, where Adam’s parents (sublimely played by Claire Foy and Jamie Bell) haven’t aged since their death, with Adam now older than both of them. Their reunion is almost sheepishly cute at first. “Is that him?, Mum asks. “That’s him,” confirms Dad. But it’s also a reunion painted with challenges as Adam still needs to come out to both of his parents (in separate visits). First is Mum, who is as curious as she is disappointed. “It’s a sad life, isn’t it?” she laments and there will probably be several people who will hear those words and they will sting as hard now as they did before, a common refrain from parents at that time (my husband’s mother said this to him verbatim). Foy is exquisite here though, her teased perm and emerald green tracksuit speaking in a contemporary language for the time as much as her words do. When Adam asks his mother “Is this real?” she responds with “I don’t know. Does it feel real?” It does, it is, as Haigh doesn’t present anything in these interludes as supernatural or what we’ve come to expect from a ‘ghost story.’ It’s as real as anything and it both scares and pushes their honesty to unguarded places.

But it’s Adam’s conversation with his Dad that will open the water works (at least they did for me), as Adam details hiding in his room after being bullied at school all day. Dad never asked why and Adam never told why and for the same reason; “I probably would have been one of the ones who bullied you,” Dad says, confirming Adam’s feelings. But Dad, at least this version of him, is far more open and accepting, bringing Adam to tears and most definitely this viewer. As I watched this through saturated eyes, I wondered what I would say to my father, who died when I was 21. We had a very severed relationship and I never officially came out to him in any way (my mother would tell me much later that when I was 3-years old my father said to her “he walks like a faggot”) and if I could find some type of closure to an open wound that’s been there for as long as Adam’s. Do I even need it? I think one of the great powers of storytelling can be two-fold; it can certainly inspire you to do or say something in your real life but simply seeing it onscreen, feeling heard and understood, a vicarious experience can be a shockingly healing salve. My apologies to anyone who sat near me at the Herzog as I was inconsolable in my own moment of self-reflection and memory. It can’t be overstated that Bell and Scott are transcendent in this moment; we’ve associated Scott with his “hot priest” character from Fleabag and as Moriarty in the Benedict Cumberbatch-led Sherlock series, but his vulnerability in this scene is shattering. For Bell, we’ve literally watched him grow up on film, from Billy Elliot to now, playing a father doing his best to find connection with his son. It’s a quiet performance, not simply of restraint but one that allows Scott’s Adam to breathe.

Back in London, Harry returns and this time Adam is more malleable and invites him in. The two engage not in simple small talk but in the rooted fear of intimacy and love that was the 1980s, the era of AIDS and wondering if your next hook up or your next (or first, in some cases) would be your last. It’s one of Haigh’s keen powers, understanding the intricacies of interpersonal relationships whether it’s the rawness of HBO’s Looking, the guarded secrets in 45 Years or Strangers’ closest relative, Weekend. The two discuss using ‘gay’ or ‘queer’ to identify themselves and how the generations word use differs, with Adam definitely in the ‘gay’ camp and Harry remarking “queer is like all the dick-sucking is taken out.” The ice is broken at this point (thanks in part to The Housemartins’ “Build,”) melted, and their bodies do too. They quickly fall into a comfort of domesticity, the kind Adam never thought he’d have (“I’ve never been in love,” he admits at one point). A club scene later in the film, where Harry and Adam do ketamine, begins to break the fabric of what’s real and what isn’t as Blur’s “Death of the Party” rages on.

I called the film a ghost story earlier but I don’t want to give the wrong impression of what that means. It’s not a haunting, Adam’s parents aren’t locked between two worlds. It’s actually Adam that is; carrying the pain and trauma from childhood to adulthood and longing for a way to connect in the middle, to keep seeing his parents and also move forward. But “that’s not how this works,” says mum, and we know the final moments between them are near. And indeed, when the time does come and Dad and Mum offer Adam the affirmations that any child would want, but didn’t know they needed until much later, it’s a devastating master class of writing and performance from Scott, Bell and Foy. For many people who grow up gay, the lack of parental support can feel finite, the same as a physical death, an irrevocable separation. What Haigh has created is a portal of sorts, to reclaim our history, if not exactly rewrite it.

Earlier this year, Celine Song’s Past Lives introduced many of us to the Korean concept of ‘in-yun,’ that the people in our past, even if they’ve touched us briefly, have a permanent effect on our lives, on our connectivity. For Adam, his in-yun exists with the brief time he had with his parents, with his flourishing relationship with Harry and what his relationship to himself will be. Despite all of this emotion, as draining as it is cathartic, the film’s breathtaking finale is not something I’ll likely ever forget. Like 45 Years, Haigh knows how to close a film and the final shot of All of Us Strangers will be a part of me forever. Haigh has created a timeless masterpiece and the best film of the year.

Grade: A'

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arcanefox207 · 3 months ago

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These are some PPCU fics I have read and enjoyed this past month and would like to recommend. Some new. Some Old. All have smut. I am going to be doing a monthly rec list going forward in an attempt to read more and help reblog and support some amazing authors out there. Please show them some love. Read all warnings! Not everything is for everyone and that is ok. Please always comment AND reblog fics you enjoy to show love to the authors 🖤

Joel Miller

Feelings on Fire // @pedropeach You're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you.

But He’s The One I Want // @wheresarizona All you needed was to see if your dad’s friend, Joel, had a spare key to your father’s house. Instead, you get railed within an inch of your life on Joel’s couch.

Only then, I am good // @joelsdagger You have a bad day in which it makes you question your worth. only joel can make you see the truth. daddy jackson!joel x f!reader

'Tis thee Season // @joelsdagger You’re back in town for christmas, and it’s been months since you’ve seen your boyfriend, joel miller. and he decides to make the most of the brief window of time you have together or, joel fucks you after taking viagra.

Subscribe // @joelmillerisapunk When Joel accidentally stumbles upon your only fans he convinces himself he's only subscribing to help you through college. And then you send him his top-tier subscriber personal video and he's fucked because you don't even know it's him your dad's best friend

Inhale, Exhale // @sp00kymulderr This world is not made for intimacy and both of you know it.

Dance With Me, Darlin' // @milla-frenchy You go to a club and want to fuck. So does Joel

San Angelo // @macfrog It's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, Joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar where fate delivers him to you.

General Marcus Acacius

Prima Nocta // @fuckyeahdindjarin Tomorrow, you will marry your husband-to-be. But tonight - it belongs to his father.

Fit For A Goddess // @ozarkthedog You wear Marcus’s gold laurel crown while he worships you.

Ezra

Little Wren // @schnarfer Wild. West. Priest. Ezra. That’s it, that’s the idea.

The Beast Within // @aurorawritestoescape Trekking the Green with his new partner, Ezra is overtaken by his need to have you. While you sleep in the camping tent, the animal within Ezra pushes him to act on his desires. Little does he know, you’ve wanted him as well.

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales

Nut vid with the sound on // @syd-djarin You accidentally send Frankie a text that he wasn't supposed to see.

Javier Pena

Office Hours // @itwasntimethatdidit40 You should concentrate on work. But you can't do that with the charming bastard you share the office with in front of you. Why not find a more fun way to spend your office hours?

Banner by me. Dividers by @saradika 🖤

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horrorfilmgifs · 7 months ago

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Am I going crazy or is Frankie hitting on a priest?

Stigmata (1999)

#horroredit #filmedit #filmgifs #userhorroredits #userbbelcher #dailyflicks #stigmata #patricia arquette #gabriel byrne #*gif #by Daggy #tuserdana #usergiles #userchristineb #usersnat #mikaeled #usercy

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berryispunk · 2 months ago

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This Town's Too Small

pairing: Priest Frankie x OFC

This is part 2 of "Nothing You Can Do Will Save Me" and contains heavy topics such as domestic violence and alcohol abuse so be warned before reading.

Part 1 readable here

summary: Frankie is full on left to his own devices after he fled the confessional. One day you appear at his office with matters to discuss.

tags/warnings: domestic violence, alcohol abuse, LONGING, YEARNING, mutual pining, did i say longing ? , slight power indifference, maybe the hint of dom! Frankie, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Guilt, Catholicism, small (?) age difference (Frankie is mid 30’s, Lucy beginning of 20’s), sexual tension, AU, Catholic Church Core, dirty thoughts, small town, inner turmoil, a hint of soft Frankie,we meet reader aka my OFC named Lucy, she has hair and green eyes, no other physical discription

word count: 3,4 k

When Frankie didn’t see you in service the day after, he wasn’t too concerned. It was another type of relief, creating even more distance for him to calm down - to sort through his racing mind and his aching body. But as it became two Sundays in a row he grew restless. You used to be in service, front pew every Sunday. Always on time. You were basically part of the furniture at this point. Your rightful place in church like the altar and the confessional. Your absence left him queasy, wandering around, tracing the aisles and backrooms of his little church like a caged animal waiting for you all the Sundays that followed, opening the church way before it was time and leaving it open until the sun hung low and created a golden hue through the stained glass.

He didn’t see your dad either. Not that he cared about him anyways. Frankie made vows renouncing moral judgements, one of them being prejudice. He wasn’t allowed to judge your father from the things he was told and heard from people of his perish but he found himself doing so anyway. The unmistakable drinking problem oozing from his every pore, red cheeks and swollen face a clear indication of his heavy drinking. Frankie didn’t need a doctor to get that.

He saw the signs in his army brothers many times when they lost themselves in the bottom of cheap booze bottles. Starting with the first shot in their morning coffee, making jokes about how it woke them up easier. Trying to hide it in the beginning but failing miserably as soon as the drinking took over their life completely - dictating it until all they could think about was their next fill. It made them short tempered, weak and frail.

And your dad was all that too, despite being a broad and big man, he seemed so small despite his body size. Frankie noticed his trembling hands when he took the wafer during the communion and his cloudy eyes that didn’t focus fully. He knew all the signs, but he decided to look away and trust God to lead your father the right way.

For sure he would’ve offered support for him whenever needed. But your father would refuse anyway, he had it already with the old priest so he just watched quietly as his misery went on.

It wasn’t until one Sunday that gossip spread around church like a wildfire. Whispers so loud, it was hard for Frankie to overhear them.

“I heard the girl has bruises on her face because Jack lost his temper during one of his escapades. Poor girl. I bet first it was their mother and now she’s the punchbag,” one of the older ladies said to her pew neighbor, her hand covering her mouth but Frankie heard it oh so clearly. Her judgement woven through every syllable, making them taste bitter on his own tongue even though they weren‘t his own.

It made his blood boil. The mere thought of your father laying a hand on you, his own flesh and blood, his child he was supposed to protect, was too much for Frankie. The ugly side of rage rearing its head even if he should know better. If all they said was true, what could he possibly do?

Sure, if he was a regular guy he would beat the shit out of him for hurting you until the bastard couldn‘t see straight without any hesitation.

But right now Frankie was your local priest, a guide for many and just the thought of being violent towards a member of his church itself was considered sinful.

Still, he couldn’t help it. The image of you in his mind, bruised, terrified and lost took his air to breathe. It made his chest constrict with a huge and probably irrational feeling of protectiveness he tried to shove deep inside.

Absolutely nothing could’ve prepared him for the moment you stood in front of him on another Sunday after service. He hadn’t seen you during mass, as you waited for him at his office door in the back of the church. Gaze demurely towards the ground, your shoulders slumped and suddenly so small he wished for nothing more than to hold you close. Even though your gaze was fixed on the ground and you tried to hide behind your hair, he could see it clearly: the bruise on your right cheekbone. Its color was already fading into green and brown hues but still noticeably obvious. You had to feel his intense stare because you also tried to cover up with your hand.

“Do you have a moment, father?” You simply asked and your voice is so thin he didn’t even know if he‘d heard your correctly.

He nodded and unlocked the office, ushering you inside with his hand splayed over the small of your back before he said, “Sit down”, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

He sat down behind it, clasping his hands and leaning onto them as he started looking at you even more closely taking a seat across from him. The woman in front of him was nothing like the one he was used to see every Sunday. She didn‘t look the same and she didn‘t sound the same. The woman in front of him was an empty shell.. And it affected him more than he was willing to admit.

He kept silent, tentative, afraid that if he spoke up you might run away like a deer in the headlights. So he waited, taking a deep breath and observing you.

Nervously fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, eyes fixed on your hands and the whole body language so muted like somebody had put on a dampener. Afraid to take too much space in this world, in this room and it made him angry. What could have possibly happened that made you change so much? The gentleness and optimism you were usually radiating into the world was replaced by this little terrified girl who didn‘t even dare to speak up. It was none of his business, it shouldn't be but still he found himself wanting to know who he had to teach a lesson for causing this change in you.

When the silence became suffocating, he ultimately asked, “What happened, hija?” His baritone voice so imposing in the small of the office it made you flinch for a second and his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“I fell,” you lied. He knew, he felt it.

“I don’t have to remind you that lying is considered a sin, do I?” he asked, his voice authoritative and for this one time in his life he felt like him being domineering could benefit this situation.

“No father,” you answered as you kept fiddling with your skirt fabric, your legs tightly pressed together and your gaze fixed on your hands.

“Good. So I ask you again: What. Happened?” There was this unmistakingly dominant tone to him now.

“It’s…,” you took a deep breath. “My dad….”

He knew it. He saw the signs, he heard the gossip, he saw how unkindly your father dragged you out of church one day. But he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Your father did this to you?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“He…” you audibly swallowed. “He was drunk, he already came back drunk from work. Usually it’s not like this, mostly it’s after dinner. I was in the kitchen preparing said dinner when I lost my grip on the salt cellar and it fell and busted. It– it happened so fast I—”

You started to visibly shake at the memory. The words seemed to come from your mouth like a waterfall, finally flowing free.

“He stood up from the dining table with such force the chair fell back with a loud noise and then he slapped me, twice. Telling me, ‘You’re as useless as your mother’ and I looked at him. I- I couldn’t believe what I just heard. I mean, my dad was never the most loving father figure but this was low, even for him. He told me to clean up the mess I made and that he wasn’t in the mood to eat my muck so he left and got himself something from Suzie’s diner.”

Frankie bristled at your words, every one of them stoking his rage further. His fists clenched and unclenched under the desk as he lowered his gaze and gritted his teeth. He tried so hard to keep calm for your sake even if every fiber in him screamed for teaching this low-life that called itself your father a lesson. He would love to, but he knew he couldn‘t. He made vows, he knew better than anyone else that wrath was one of the seven deadly sins but still he couldn't ignore the rage that creeped up towards him. Frankie used to be known for his short temper, especially in the last years of serving.Trauma did the rest, but ever since he left and joined the seminary he found himself getting calmer by the day.

Well, until this instant apparently. His voice sounded more strained than he‘d liked as he found it again to talk calmly even if his whole body was vibrating with resentment.

“Was it the first time this happened?”

For a moment you hesitated to answer before you spoke up,

“Well.. It was the first time he hit me so hard, yes.”

Frankie couldn’t believe his ears. This wasn’t the first time?

Why had nobody told him before?

How could the old priest have overlooked this?

“How long?“ he pressed out between still gritted teeth.

“How long what?”

“For how long has he been violent towards you?”

“Since my mother left. He’s frustrated I guess. He hit her a few times too if I recall correctly, but not as frequently as me.”

You sounded like you were telling him the most nonchalant thing when it was so far removed from that.

“Hija….” he started but was interrupted by you.

“Lucy. Well, Luciana but everyone calls me Lucy,” you said and finally you dared to look up at him as your eyes met his, their green so much bleaker than he remembered.

He held your gaze for a moment without replying, mulling over the new information he just got before he retorted, “Lucy Davis, is it?” Hint of a smile on his face.

“Yes, father,” you nodded and gave him the softest smile in return that made his stomach drop. It wasn‘t that he hadn‘t known your name before, of course he had, but you introducing yourself formally had a lot more weight.

“Can I know your name too father, or is this against the code?” you teased with the corners of your lips still up.

He chuckled deeply.

“You can know my name, but you’re not allowed to call me that. At least not outside of this office…” he warned and your head made a small nod in agreement.

He tilted his head a bit, rubbing the skin of his neck mindlessly as he stated, “It’s Frankie. Well, technically Francisco. But everyone used to call me Frankie.”

Your answer was a beautiful toothy smile.

“Frankie Morales?” you reassured yourself.

“Yes, ma'am,” he smirked while the irony of echoing the way you introduced yourself just moments ago wasn‘t lost on him.

“I like that”, you finally said, still a faint smile on your face. “Suits you, Frankie.”

The way his name rolls off your tongue so effortlessly felt electric and made his heart skip a beat.

Shit.

He cleared his throat before he continued speaking, “Did you tell anyone else about this?”

You shook your head.

“Do you want to press charges?”

“It’s my dad, I can’t–”

“Of course you can. What else do you want to do, Lucy?”

You sighed as you slumped deeper into the chair, burying your face in your hands. The lighthearted moment seemed forgotten. “I don’t know… It’s just that I’m still saving money so I can move closer to my sister. But it’s still a couple hundred bucks… And it’s not that easy; it’s still my home and he’s still my father…”

Frankie’s first impulse was to say that it was easy indeed from his point of view. Your father was a violent man and shouldn’t be allowed to call himself a parental figure anymore. Instead he bit the inside of his cheek and decided against it as he replied, “I get it. Can I help in any way?”

“I wouldn’t know how, father…”

“Frankie,” he reminded you as you looked at him, your brows crunched in confusion and wasn‘t that the cutest fucking thing he‘s ever seen.

“Yeah, uh…Frankie, I’m sorry,” you murmured. “No need,” he assured you and your lips twitched up in a hint of a shy smile. “Just thought it’s less formal ‘s all…”

You nodded. “It is indeed, but it feels kinda weird though.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he proclaimed.

Your eyes studied him for a moment, almost as if you were trying to gauge his reaction but he just held your gaze and nodded softly before he stood up and walked around the desk, leaning against the front of it, both hands left and right of his hip.

The distance between you both was way smaller than a moment ago and in this close proximity all feelings he desperately tried to bury bubbled up again. His gaze drifted to your soft pink lips before they found your eyes again. It was just a second but he was sure you registered them anyway as you mirrored his eye movement and it felt like back in the confessional again. The air was too thick to breathe, his chest painfully tight and his lower body having a life of its own as he shifted a bit to make room for the growing excitement in his pants before he broke the breathless silence.

“Wish I could do more for you. But you know I can’t because of my duty to maintain confidentiality. I am still glad you told me…” And every word was true.

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed so deeply and defeatedly it tugged at his heartstrings.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything…” you said quietly.

His eyebrows shot up in concern as you abruptly stood up. “I-I should go…” you stuttered.

He was frozen for a moment by the sudden broken tension that you were almost at the door.

“Wait!” he calls out as he reached for your wrist which caused you to look up at him, your eyes full of conflicted emotions.

“Stay..” he pleaded.

“And then what?” you asked, your eyes on his hand around your wrist before they searched his face again.

“We can talk, figuring something out. I really want to help you, if.. if you‘d let me,” he tried to reason softly with you.

“The people will talk if they see me leaving your office, Frankie. I know they already talk enough about my family as it is. I don’t need anymore of that gossip evolving around me. The whole town’s too small for keeping secrets.”

He knew you’re right, of course he did, but for God’s sake he wanted you to stay. To get to know you better, to see your beautiful smile more, just having you around. He knew he shouldn‘t think about this in the first place. He was your priest, he‘d just started working here and you were so young, so damn young. All valid reasons that spooked around his mind. But so close to you all he could focus on was his longing as he unconsciously closed his grip around your wrist tighter, pulling you closer to him until your chest was almost touching his, your gazes locked, your breath hitching slightly as you croaked out his name helplessly and it was all the invitation he needed.

He closed the insignificant distance, hand reaching out to cup your bruised cheek, thumb tracing over it feathery light , afraid it may hurt, but you didn‘t even flinch . His thumb continued gently tracing the lines of your bottom lip while his other hand tangled in your hair. He stopped, waiting for you take a step back, whether your face held any sign of hesitation. But it didn’t so he dipped his head to be more on your level, your lips parted but your eyes still fixed on him. Your warm breath ghosting over his lips, making his skin prickle with anticipation. He was so close, so close to losing control, to just give in to what he‘d been fighting for weeks and was now eating him alive.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, a painful reminder that what he so desperately yearned for was so far out of reach that he growled in frustration. A second, more insistent knock was the final nail in the coffin.

“Father Morales, are you there?” A scratchy voice came from the other side of the door.

It’s Mrs. Miller, he didn‘t have to look to know. She came over every other Sunday to check on him, sometimes offering some homemade cookies which tasted like heaven and just have a talk for a while, praying with him and going her way again when it was way past noon. She was rather lonely it seemed so Frankie gladly took his time to talk to her, hell, he was lonely too sometimes. And if talking to this old lady killed time and resulted in cookies, who was he to deny her?

He grew to like her, but right now he would have rather liked to curse her.

“I am here, one moment please,” he hollered through the closed door and his eyes found yours again as he straightened back up and let go of your face, your cheeks pink from embarrassment or perhaps arousal, he wouldn’t be able to tell.

You didn‘t say a word as Frankie opened the door wide, Mrs Miller standing closely behind it as her gaze drifted between him and you, her eyes slightly narrowed.

“Are you busy, father?” Mrs Miller asked with the kind of tone that was extra friendly when in reality she was just nosy, but Frankie shook his head in response.

“We just finished talking. I am free now,” he assured the old woman.

“How about you take a seat already? I‘ll join you in a second, Mrs. Miller,” a polite smile on his face and Mrs. Miller gave you a passing inquisitive glance before she stepped into his office, leaving both of you alone in the doorway.

He gently stroked his thumb on your upper arm, seeking the contact. “Are you okay?” he asked, afraid he might have overstepped a line.

You nodded in response, your eyes searching for his, probably a bit abashed. Your gaze lingering on his lips for a fragment.

He lowered his voice even more so Mrs Miller couldn’t hear him properly as you stood outside of his office with the door slightly ajar.

“Will you see me again?”

“I don’t know if I–” you broke off, clearly battling with yourself. Your inner turmoil as clear on your face as he felt it inside himself.

“Okay,” you ultimately say and he rubbed your arm gently.

“Good,” he smiled and you mirrored it with a small one on your own.

“Have a good day, fa–... Frankie,” you bowed slightly, whispering his name quietly like it was a sacred thing. He smiled lopsidedly in return.

“You too, Lucy,” he nodded and watched as you turned on your heels and walked away, your hips swaying and he couldn‘t help but stare. His body reacted like it always did when you were around.

“If you need anything…” he called after you, but you don’t turn around as your figure got smaller with every step.

When you were out of his eye sight, he went back into his office with a deep sigh, closing the door behind him and for the rest of the day he wasn’t able to focus even a second on Mrs. Miller's words or her cookies.

my masterlist in case you’re curious for more :)

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