#prompts are officially open

[chimchiri]

For the requests: maybe Dash and Spitfire are doing some bonding gaming with Scoots? I'm sure they enjoy some console gaming, but maybe they could be convinced to do some board games as well?

I had to color this in because I loved this idea too much. Scootaloo gets some help from Spitfire and learns an important lesson about strategy and playing the long game.

Poor Rainbow gets demolished.

[hypewinter]

When Dan was released from his prison, he was ready to go toe to toe in a rematch with his past self. Instead he was handed a baby and guided to two toddlers by Clockwork. The Ancient of Time explained to him that his parents accidentally created a machine that de-aged ghosts. Now Danny and Ellie, as well as Jazz who was just liminal enough to be affected are all tiny tots without a place to go.

That's about all the explanation Dan gets before he's pushed through a portal and into an alley. Before Clockwork closes the portal he tells Dan "Single fatherhood may be tough but do not lose hope!"

Wait..... Single fatherhood!?

[toxintouch]

I'm not sure if what I wrote is what this post had in mind but… also I meant to do this as a rb but my toxic trait is writing things in drafts/private posts so I err uhhh look I can't keep fighting with Tumblr formatting ok

Mhin receiving an unusually specific compliment. ᵕ ω ᵕ

“You're so fascinating, Mhin. If you wrote a book, I would definitely read it.  Even if you wrote the book about something really boring.  Even if you wrote…a dictionary, full of words I already know the meanings to.  I'd still read it, just because you wrote it.  Just to feel like I got to walk beside you in the world for a little while."

Mhin looks over at you despite themself. Your voice is low, tone affectionate difficult to parse over the incessant noise permeating the Wet Wick. They find themselves staring at your lips, as if to read your words despite hearing you clearly.

“You're really the most interesting person I know...  Which is saying a lot, in this city!”  You laugh at yourself, bandaged fingers trailing around the rim of the glass placed in front of you at the bar.  Your face is flushed, pupils dilated.  The longer they look at you, brows furrowed as they try to make sense of your words, the less you seem able to look them in the eyes.

The liquid in your glass is clear.  

Tequila?  Vodka?  Gin?  A stomach wrenching combination of all three, possibly.  Who knows what Leander was willing to put in front of you, if it makes you so…

Mhin huffs, mouth wrenching into a frown. They clasp a hand around the glass in front of you. "I think you've had enough." They must have gone (miraculously) nose-blind from the boozy scent of the Wet Wick because even as they slide the heavy tankard closer to themself, the pungent tang of alcohol is no more invasive than it was prior. They expected to be able to taste the fumes coming off of whatever concoction they just took from you.

"I'm--" You start to protest, but you find yourself cut off when Leander says something that causes the crowded bar to go wild, cheers erupting. One of the Bloodhounds jostles Mhin in their mirth, causing your confiscated drink to upend, contents sloshing over the surface of the bar and soaking the sleeve of Mhin's shirt.

It's water.

You were saying those things while sober.

Mhin's eyes find yours, no attention spared for the slurring Bloodhound beside them. You're looking at them affectionately, lips quirked.

"Would you be mad at me if I told you that you're too cute?" You ask, something far too warm, too inviting in your words.

Mhin is halfway across the bar in a heartbeat, burning red ears gone deaf to the sound of Leander's voice, calling out to them that they haven't picked their pay up yet. They'll get it tomorrow, they think, racing towards the respite of the fresh night air. Away from the urge to--

Mhin doesn't let themself turn to look back at you as they leave. Though they can't stop themself from wondering: if they did, would they see you staring back at them?

Damn Mhin just take the compliment. I made Mhin's about their brains instead of their looks etc. bc while I think mentioning wanting to kiss their beauty mark would fluster them I think this is the type of thing that would absolutely infect their brain.  Have them thinking about those words over and over until it completely ruins their nightly Soulless hunting; they give up & just stargaze all night.

[azaracyy]

"...that's all from me. does any of you have any questions?" "nope! crystal clear." "kew!" "that's good! um... thank you for this discussion." "you're the one who came up with this awesome plan, lopmon. have more confidence in yourself." "kew, kew kew kew!" digimon survive week 2024 day 2: cooperation

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 53

Jazz leaves amity for college. She did all the application and stuff via tuckers computer. For some reason nothing was going through on hers.

Due to majority of her extracurricular activists not being sent thought she didn’t get accepted to her top choices. Ended up going to Gotham u.

Things don’t add up. Leaving was a big deal. Like she ended up just going in the middle of night. The roads were closed for “construction”. They were absolutely fine when she ignored the signs and drove.

It took her less then a 6 hours to figure out amity couldn’t be contacted. She tried calling Danny upon getting to Gotham. Nothing. Research, nothing. It’s like the town didn’t exist.

She does have a communicator from tucker. One of the multi dimensional ones. She gets ahold of them just to hear the chaos. There is a hunt for her. Lockdowns. The whole town is shutdown.

She didn’t inform her parents where she was going. They only insisted she goes to the university in town and nowhere else. That could be the issue. She is 18 but they are extra special.

Obviously she’s gonna head back. What else’s is she supposed to do. She had to go get her brother and his friends. Do something. Authorities in amity never cared why would any outside force care. To bad her car suddenly doesn’t work.

Leads to her walking at night. Her goal is to find a rental car place or bus that maybe would be open late.

She doesn’t find a car or anything. But does punch a would be mugger. That punch back home would have not knocked a person back 5 feet into a wall. Were people here just that weak.

This leads to some guy in cosplay called Batman. Which come on that name is just as bad as box ghost. Telling her it’s not safe in Gotham for metas.

Jazz just lectures him on how that not his decision. She is going to be attending college here after she figures out why her home town completely shut down. All when she left for college. Besides she’s not whatever a meta is.

Long story short. Batman now has to deal with two not-metas in Gotham. Plus a whole town that didn’t exist. Multiple arrest. Then a possibility of pissing off the afterlife.

[eternadreeblissa]

Ok but the potential for Silent Prince Link. In that roleswap or so AU in BOTW

Listen, imagine him, the descendant of Hylia, trying to achieve his sealing powers but his prayers keep falling on deaf ears. The suffering he has to endure with a strict parent who doesnt give him much freedom, failing expectations so exceptionally well he beats himself up silently and secretly resents Hylia. We all know that but imagine inserting darling for a sec: he meets this person, who's been nothing but kind to him. They don't berate him or scold him, they don't expect much from him and wants nothing more but for him to be happy and given relief from his duties. His heart has never been touched and caressed so gently like soul, so he just, follows darling around, maybe roping them in strolls somewhere outside the kingdom. He takes every excuse to spend time with you, including skipping his training, or, maybe he has you with him instead of Zelda guarding him.

Now, his relationship with Zelda, isn't the greatest. One of the people who speaks their minds aloud to him (AKA near outright berating). I imagine this Zelda thinks he has it easy, or that maybe he's so privileged that he can do whatever he wants. Whatever it is she just got the wrong idea abt him. She doesn't like the fact she has to babysit him or smth guarding him; the guy avoids her like a plague anyway! (Asides from escorting him to the shrines and all. But on Link's side, he just didn't want to handle Zelda's criticism on him on top of his own parent's disappointment) she was living her best life being herself bonding with her mom, but she had to be taken away bcs she had the whole knight lineage thing under her name.

Anyway meeting darling was a breath of fresh air to him. I imagine he thinks of them as an escape: similar to how people escape reality. He spends nearly every waking moment with them, or at least as much as time and duties can allow. He never met someone who saw him for himself: as Link. Not the prince, not the descendant of Hylia. Just... Link. And she loved and cared for him like a real person.

Zelda, didn't exactly like this. Mostly bcs asides from already getting in trouble for not having Link in her vision as part of her job, if she lets you go on you might as well steal the prince away from Hyrule the more he skips duties and she might even be replaced. And while that would be awesome she'll be in even more trouble with the king or queen, AKA: Link's parent. She couldnt go back to the life she once had, not when it was taken from her and robbed of her childhood and all...

Yes, you and Link have to avoid Zelda a lot. He's actually pretty good at hiding. While he gets heavily lectured by his own personal guard its all worth it spending time with you.

But then... Hylia happened.

Why now, of all times, did his powers awaken and why of all people, did it have to be you? You were the real light of his life, in a world of darkness and oppression. The only one who gave him hope and more to live for than just his duties. Why now, when he was about to confess and run away with you, and he had you in his arms, did suddenly his own voice betray him? He wasn't himself— no, it wasn't him speaking AT ALL. THIS IS A DIFFERENT PERSON TALKING THROUGH HIM PLEASE STOP.

But he was helpless, helpless as his words were twisted to hurt you: no you weren't useless to him, you weren't in the way! You were everything he needed in life— no you were his life! He needed you! He truly loved you please! But your tears fell from his eyes, and just as he thought it was over, his hands glowed gold, he panicked, not understanding what's going on, but his hands were raised towards you, and his voice chanted; and in a bright flash, you were gone.

No. No... NO!

He fell to the ground. His life just came crashing down. Any light and joy and hope, all the good things he had in life, were taken with you as you were sealed— no, vanquished by his own hands. (he couldn't bear the thought he truly did seal you away from Hyrule forever)

It... It wasn't him. No it wasn't...

That light. That golden light. The one that his hands were forcibly used against you. There's only one person who he knows could do that to you: Hylia.

If he only disliked Hylia for putting him all through this not answering his call before, then he certainly hates her with every fibre of his being for making him lose you.

(Under the cut if yall are interested in how my OC Ava handles this! And it has some more details on how things happened—)

When she met silent prince link, he was out hiding from Zelda again and escaping from his well, life, while Ava stumbled into his world separated from the chain.

I imagine, she started off being all nice and everything to him. While Link is confused cuz this gal thinks he's the hero? Anyway, they started off a bit smooth at least and this first meeting alone had him enjoy her company, and wishes to see her more.

So they meet up more and more. Link clarified he wasn't the hero, or heroine in this matter, but didn't reveal he was the prince either. All he said to her was that, he was just Link, a nobody. And he wants to know more about her. Ava respected that, and they talked and all, but at some point Zelda found out abt her and shooed her off. (Link has never disliked Zelda more than he has now, astonishing really, currently nearly up with his resentment for Hylia)

Thank goodness he found her in some of the usual spots she visited. It was a good thing she told him about it too (if she hadn't he'd scour the entirety of Hyrule just to find her—) he tells her not to be discouraged to continue meeting up with him. He truly did enjoy his time together with her, and he doesnt like Zelda or pretty much all of Hyrule kingdom in general, sometimes including his own parent, and especially Hylia. He then spills his past to her, leaving his whole heart bare to her being.

Ava, in processing this, is then a little conflicted: His story is just like Wild's except... he's in flora's position? Wherever she is, she's somewhere very, very far. History can't be turned upside its head and forget everything and have... This. But how did it happen? Asides her thoughts, Ava understood, and would be more than happy to be there for him. Link couldn't be any more happier.

...There's just one problem: Hylia. She isn't sure how... They could continue on for long. She tells his she wants to stay a bit and help him out but, Hylia, as far as shes known that goddess, meddled a lot with her life. Often using Zelda to seal her away every time (sometimes she beats the Zeldas to it, by going back home on her own. Either the Zeldas sealed her away willingly, or forcibly, as there are some who didn't actually mean to do anything. Regardless, she was often in all sorts of troubles of messes because of her. All of this lore bit abt her can be explained for another day jsufbfhhb). She tells him Hylia doesn't like her, and if he's a descendant as he actually says he is, then she might.. use him against her.

Hearing all this, Link was furious. His resentment for that white goddess just increased a ton. He told her he won't let it happen. No matter what. He promises. Ava could only hope that promise can still hold true even with Hylia looming...

So they spent more time together, and they bonded a lot. But the King/Queen heard Link hasn't been doing his duty, (as if he hasn't already been slacking off in their eyes) so Ava didn't see Link for a few days and worried about him. The next time Ava saw a glimpse of him, he was out with Zelda, who seemed more of a hawk than she was before, heading out for training and everything.

It was quite horrid for Link :'(( so when he got back to her, he was latching onto her like a koala, wanting her attention on him and only him. If anyone tried to take her eyes away from him he glares and it's the most chilliest thing anyone has ever seen, nor did they even know Link was capable with that kind of expression! (Considering his lack thereof, in the public eye). Ava had to distract him and tell him to stop or at least, lessen that just a bit, as she takes him away somewhere more isolated where nobody will, hopefully get hurt. (He looks like he's just one breath away from hurling a book at someone's face—)

Anyway, Link wanted to catch back on lost time spent being away from her. And they did that! But again... Hylia happened.

After coming back to train once again or so, Link felt different. A bad different. He feels like he wanted to wash himself off from this feeling all over his body. He probs bathed like 3 times but, it didn't get rid of it. Probably bcs he despises Hylia a lot now and being around her mere statues or stuff just sickens him. He hopes all of that will be forgotten or washed away around Ava's presence but haha it couldn't be any more worse :'))) just like time and time again, Hylia used Link, awakening his powers and sealed her away.

...In the end, she didn't learn her lesson did she? Try as she might, leaving before she was sealed off from any of Hylia's vessels but, here she is. She stayed too long. She got attached again. She got both of them attached again and now, they're both going to be hurt, wounded from this. It's her fault she let this happen. She could only hug him in tears, trying to be there for him and comfort even though he spoke piercing words and trying to get her off from him. But deep down, this wasn't him. It was Hylia. Link always told her he loved her company and wanted nothing more but for her to stay. But just like before, with every link she met, no matter what she gets separated every. Single. Time.

So before she completely vanishes into the light and she burns in pain from its power, she could only tell Link, through her tears, she'll come back again. Just like before, as well. Because even though despite the fact she will always end up leaving or not staying for as long as she wanted, even though both her world and his wanted them apart, they'll just meet each other, again and again. In another time, or a different era, maybe a whole other world even. It cannot be helped, they were both connected. Maybe in his case, the hero's spirit didnt call her like it did with the others, simply because he doesn't have it, being Hylia's descendant. But somehow, even without it, she was here, met Link again, and similar scenarios were played. It's almost like... They truly were soulmates weren't they?

Because of that, she assures him: she'll come back, as a goddess. She'll train more, work harder, learn, just so she can stand against the selfish divine who kept meddling with their lives. She'll be there for him, and he won't have to suffer for so long in silence, but for now... It's farewell, until they meet again.

It was the one hope Link clung onto for dear life, as everything else in his world faded from mind.

[blackjackkent]

Using a random number generator for these :)

Karlach/Hector - A kiss to the palm of the hand

Jaheira/Rasaad - A kiss while one party is carried

Rakha/Wyll - A kiss in greeting

(kiss roulette meme)

Hrmdehrm, as always, many ideas swirling around. Decided to go with J/R (as usual XD ) and also combine this with one of your prompts from this ask. (“What Are We” moment prompts)

Jaheira/Rasaad - A kiss while one party is carriedRasaad/Jaheira (from Rasaad's POV this time) - feeling aflutter after something they've done dozens of times

-----

"Good," Rasaad says approvingly. "Now, your weight must stay balanced. Remain on the balls of your feet. Balance allows for quick reaction."

"A lesson any druid would approve of," Jaheira says with a slight smile.

"I thought you would like it." He circles her slowly, appraising her stance from all sides. She has her hands up in a guard pose as he has taught her, her shoulders squared, one foot slightly forward of the other. Her lips twitch as she turns her head to follow him, catching his eyes drifting across her hips.

"Your gaze lingers, monk," she says teasingly.

Rasaad coughs, feeling caught out. She's right, of course; his attention to her is very much more than merely academic. He has never tried to teach martial arts to someone he is in love with before; it makes for a far more... invigorating experience. Moves he knows as closely as his own breath take on a new dimension in her body, in his acute awareness of her every movement and her closeness against him, the scent of her skin and the way her eyes narrow and her lips work in a moment of focus--

Presumably, he reflects ruefully, this is why the Sun Soul does not encourage romance among its acolytes.

"I would be a poor teacher," he says gravely rather than voicing any of this, "if I did not thoroughly study every detail of your performance..."

She chuckles. "And what do you see, hm?"

A work of art, far beyond my deserving even now. "I see you are favoring your forward leg. It will leave you vulnerable to a sweep." He finishes circling her, comes to a halt in front of her again and finds that she is grinning at him.

"Be still my heart, the poetic words that fall from his lips..." she says dryly, adjusting her bearing to better center her weight.

"You asked me to train you," he says with all the dignity he can muster. "So I must remain... focused, however distracting you might be. I will not give you less than my best."

"I am jesting with you, Rasaad," she says; her tone gentles in a way that sends a pleasant shiver through his heart. Then her eyes narrow with muted playfulness. "Though it is good to know I have such an effect..."

He smiles sheepishly. "When we have finished for the day, I will endeavor to find proper words for it," he murmurs. A pause; he clears his throat and straightens up firmly. "For now, though - to business. Shall we try the shoulder throw again?"

She lets the smile fade from her face in favor of a studious, attentive air, though there is still a hint of mischief in her expression that he can't quite account for. "Perhaps you ought to demonstrate it for me again," she says thoughtfully.

He nods and reaches out to grab the front of her tunic with one hand, her sleeve with the other. Twisting his body sideways as he steps forward, he crouches, pulling her down and forward against his back. "It is easier at speed," he explains. "But you see the principle - to catch your opponent's momentum and use their weight against them. As they come forward, you lift--"

He suits the action to the word, lifting upward so she is fully suspended off the ground in preparation for the flipping throw. "You see?" he prompts.

"Hm. Yes..." she murmurs. Her mouth is almost against his ear, and for a moment he loses track of what he was doing as she takes advantage of the strange position to press a kiss directly under his ear at the hinge of his jaw.

His breath catches and he turns his head, instinctively seeking her lips with his, and in doing so unconsciously rocks his weight back onto his heels--

"Whoa--!"

As he unbalances, she twists her body sideways, dropping one foot to the ground. Pivoting, she executes a perfect sweep to take his legs out from under him; he falls with a grunt, slapping the ground to absorb the shock, and looks up to find her straddling his hips in one of the floor holds he taught her previously.

"Hm," she says, raising one eyebrow as she looks down at him. "What was that about balance being so important?"

It takes him a moment to regain his breath enough to speak - and not only because the impact knocked the air from his lungs. "That," he says, mock-indignant, "was not fair. I am helpless before such tactics."

A grievous lapse in his discipline, really, but it doesn't even occur to him to be embarrassed. There is something thrilling in it - the strength of his feelings that tear through his self-restraint as if it did not exist. For many years, he has struggled against his darker emotions, rage and grief and fear, and fought to keep them contained. What a joy it is, now, to struggle to contain love instead.

And what a joy it is to lose the fight.

She smiles slowly, drawing her fingers over his chest. "Perhaps we should try it again?" she suggests innocently.

He hums contentedly, low in his throat. "As many times as you like."

[revasserium]

send me a prompt and a character and i'll write you a drabbles

the sound of broken glass

where the nightmares meet

after a gunshot wound

neverlove

unfading memories

weighed expectations

the price of perfection

a story in reverse

the spaces between us

monochrome lives

to dream a dream

the cost of ambition

the last breath

edge of falling

a moment in time

death of innocence

weighing the past

heartbreak trees

a tunnel's end

whispers in the dark

words over worries

[crehador]

me: in 2024 i am going to aim to write a tiny icsm flash fic every day!! 100-300 words each absolutely no longer than that day 1: 426 words me: ...in 2024 i am going to aim to write a tiny icsm flash fic every day!! 100-500 words each absolutely no longer than that

[thesandsofelsweyr]

This is your periodic reminder that I’m a really, really, really slow writer 😅 I currently have 5 requests in my inbox, some going as far back as May and June. I'll get to them eventually, please don't lose hope!

[capseisen]

Genre Swap: Turning Dragon's Dogma into a Shounen Manga ,, September 2021

[heritageposts]

The Eurovision song contest is facing intense scrunity and accusations of discrimination after it rebuked Swedish-Palestinian pop star Eric Saade for wearing a Palestinian scarf in the opening act of the semi-finals. Saade, whose father is of Palestinian origin, kicked off the first semi-final of the Eurovision Song Contest in Malmo, Sweden on Tuesday evening with a keffiyeh, a traditional Palestinian and Arab male headdress, wrapped around his wrist. [...] In response, the organisers of the contest, European Broadcasting Union (EBU) released a statement saying it "regretted" that Saade wore the scarf. "The Eurovision Song Contest is a live TV show. All performers are made aware of the rules of the contest, and we regret that Eric Saade chose to compromise the non-political nature of the event," it said. [...] Eurovision later posted clips of the performances of the other two opening acts on its social media pages, but did not share Saade’s, prompting social media users to share the performance on their personal pages to show support for the artist.

Waving Palestinian flags, wearing traditional Palestinian garments, or if we're being honest, just being Palestinian, is now officially "too political" for Eurovision.

Literally, all Saade did was wear a keffiyeh around his wrist—while being Palestinian—and that was enough to get a statement from the EBU, and have his opening performance scrubbed from Youtube.

If you're not already boycotting Eurovision this year, then what the fuck is wrong with you?

Below are two statements from Saade. The first one, giving his reason for participating, was posted a few days ago, and the other was in response to the EBU accusing him of 'compromising the non-political nature' of the Genocide Song Contest:

Reminder again to BOYCOTT EUROVISION 🇵🇸

[mephisto-reporting]

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn���t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[mggslover]

‘spencer’s “first” time showing you his jealous/possessive side’. bau reader and spencer just started dating and are a bit reserved when it comes to showing affection in the office. a new agent starts flirting/trying to get readers attention and for the first time spencer make sure everyone knows who his girl friend is <3 thank you !!!

the first time spencer gets jealous genre: fluff word count: 965 a/n: oh how i love this prompt!! thanks for the request

Spencer Reid wasn’t big on PDA, so it didn’t surprise you when he suggested keeping your relationship under wraps once it became official. You didn’t mind much—sure, it was a little frustrating when he’d pat your hand away at the round table or create distance the morning after a particularly fun night, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you—but in general, you were glad to keep things private. You had no problem avoiding the “no dating between coworkers” policy drama, and it gave you the opportunity to focus on the cases and enjoy Spencer’s company even more when you’d sneak off home together at the end of the day. 

So, when you found yourself chatting with the new addition to the team—Agent Owen Rogers—you didn’t expect the effect it would have on your boyfriend.

“Of course he’s taken an interest in her. That woman makes everyone fall head over heels,” Penelope half-sighed, her voice a mix of awe and envy as she watched you talk to Owen from the office window. Her words caught Spencer’s attention, and he turned to the scene, spotting you mid-conversation. He recognized the looks his colleagues were giving Owen—those same dreamy, admiring glances they'd had for Hotch’s brother whenever he visited the office.

Spencer’s posture stiffened as the understanding sank in. If he were being honest, he’d liked the new agent when they first met, but now, seeing the way Owen was smirking at you as he moved closer, that initial fondness had quickly morphed into distaste. He could still hear his colleagues gushing over the agent as he quickly got up and headed down the stairs toward you.

“So, I was thinking Italian? Do you like Italian?” Owen asked, his voice upbeat.

Before you could even open your mouth to turn him down, you felt the familiar warmth of your boyfriend’s arms wrapping around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

“We love Italian.”.

You stood there, completely bewildered, as your boyfriend not only inserted himself into the conversation but also made the boldest display of possessiveness, wrapping his arms around you without a second thought. It was so un-Spencer-like—especially in the office—but you weren’t about to complain, your hands instinctively resting over his arms.

“Actually, Owen—I can call you Owen, right?” He doesn’t wait for confirmation before continuing. “You know, it’s fascinating how often people pick Italian food for a first date. Objectively, it’s a terrible choice. Think about it: you’ve got these long, slippery noodles—spaghetti, for instance—that are practically designed to humiliate you. The odds of splattering marinara sauce all over yourself—or worse, your date—are alarmingly high. And then there’s the garlic. People convince themselves that a mint will magically erase it, but we both know that’s just a delusion. Why anyone still thinks it’s a good idea is beyond me. Kind of stupid, don’t you think?”

You bit your lip, struggling to suppress your laughter as Owen’s face crumpled. You truly felt sorry for the poor thing—he really was a nice guy—but seeing Spencer get this sassy, especially when it was all because of you, was strangely entertaining.

“I—uh, yeah.” Owen gives a nervous laugh, his fingers awkwardly brushing the back of his neck. “Pretty stupid.”

“But we’d love to have Italian food with you! Right, baby?” Spencer gives your waist a subtle squeeze, his silent cue for you to play along.

You cough slightly, trying to cover your laugh. “Right! Yes, totally—Italian sounds great.”

“Yeah, that’s cool, guys. But, uh, now that I think about it, I’m swamped. You know, being a new agent and everything.” Roger’s voice wavers just enough to betray his weak excuse.

“So unfortunate. Maybe another time,” Spencer replied smoothly. Owen nodded stiffly, forcing a tight smile before quickly walking off.

You scoffed a laugh as Owen disappeared down the bullpen, the shock still lingering. You turned to Spencer, your eyes wide in disbelief.

“What in the world has gotten into that pretty head of yours?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a little, suddenly aware of how much of a spectacle he had just made in the middle of the office.

“He was asking you out,” he said quietly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You chuckled, reaching up to adjust his collar. “And I was just about to say no.”

His arms found their way back around your waist, leaning into your touch as if he’d forgotten where he was. His eyes flickered from your hands to your face, his expression softening. “I know you were. But he should know not to ask you.”

You smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, amused by how the man who’s so intent on keeping your relationship discreet in public is now letting his clingy nature shine through.

“You know he can’t smell that I’m taken, right?” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Well, maybe we should change that,” Spencer whispered, his voice low as he leaned in, his face brushing against your neck, causing you to giggle.

Unbeknownst to you, the whole team had quietly tiptoed their way down the stairs, and gathered around on the other side of the bullpen. They stood there, wide-eyed, like they were watching an episode of their favorite drama.

“Derek… Am I seeing this right?” Garcia whispered, voice dripping with curiosity as she watched Spencer's face disappear into your neck.

Morgan’s chuckle echoed through the bullpen. “Oh yes, babygirl. You’re seeing it just right.”

Spencer’s grip on you tightened as he sensed the peering eyes, but instead of discomfort, he radiated a quiet pride. He wasn’t hiding anymore—he was proud of what you shared, proud to be yours, and for you to be his, and he wanted the world to know it.

[minkoq]

Can I request a just married/ honeymoon prompt fluffy smut story about Bakugo x fem! reader plz.?! 🥹😮‍💨💘

🍓 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

just married to katsuki bakugou; fem! reader

warnings: nsfw, p in v, praise kink, desperate! bakugou, breeding kink, fingering

🍓 — carrying you bridal style into the hotel room, of course bridal style, you're his bride after all. throwing you onto the bed as your puffy dress flew around you.

🍓 — "katsuki! you're getting the whole dress crumpled!" you complained with a giggle, he just shook his head while unbuttoning his white dress shirt. "don't care about the stupid dress," he murmured out and leaned down to your level.

🍓 — "just wanna take it off of you." his kisses were gentle and light, his strong hands slid around your waist to your back. his tongue slipped into your mouth, you felt his hands fumble with the zipper of your wedding gown.

🍓 — when he finally got it he slipped the dress off of you, his touch was gentle. "my sweet wife now, huh?" he smirked, he put the dress on the floor. trying to be careful with it, in the end it's still your wedding dress.

🍓 — his gaze never left your form, he bit lip. white has never looked so good on you than in that moment; white lacey bra and white lacey panties? he is in heaven.

🍓 — he took his button up off hastily, his breath rugged. he needed to be inside of you. he was so impatient, he opened the zipper of his pants and slid them down along with his boxers, only enough so his length could spring out.

🍓 — your pussy clenched around nothing in need, his strong fingers slid your panties to the side. he awed at the beauty, his eyes landed on your sweet cunt. that belonged to him, officially now.

🍓 — his hand landed on your pussy, rubbing the folds so gently. spreading it as he but his lip, you squirmed while rubbing your crotch onto his hand. two of his fingers plunged into you, feeling your tight walls clench onto his fingers.

🍓 — "ngh.. m.. mgh," you whimpered out, katsuki moved his fingers delicately. he has felt your pussy at least over 500 times, but this felt different. you felt hotter, wetter.

🍓 — "so wet for me, ain't ya?" he smiled and took his fingers out. he licked your essence off his fingers, moaning at the heavenly taste. he stroked his length a few times, then he pressed into your wet heat.

🍓 — "o.. oh, f-fuck." his mouth hung open, your spongy walls made this day so much better. he got to marry you? and to top it off he could fuck you. it felt so much different. he started moving his hips, your gasps made his head spin.

🍓 — his cock started slamming into you, he wanted to be gentle, but you looked so beautiful.

🍓 — your arms reached for him, you pressed him against you. your legs locking him in, you sloppily kissed him. "s.. so good," you moaned out.

🍓 — he gripped your legs and bend you in half, he pressed your calves into the mattress beside your head. "officially mrs bakugou, huh?" katsuki groaned out, holding you in place.

🍓 — at this point he was balls deep in your cunt, he couldn't even control his hips anymore. he just focused on plowing into you. "katsuki!" you managed to squeal out, this position was too much for you.

🍓 — "such a sweet, sweet girl. gotta get you pregnant, huh?" you couldn't even take in his words, your pussy just leaking onto his fat cock like a faucet. "sweet girl," he praised.

🍓 — this was gonna be a long night, but how could you deny your husband? he was your husband. "my woman, huh?"

[cxrrodedcoffin]

✟ 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 ✟

Kinktober fic 2: Charlie Mayhew ✟ Blasphemy + Church Sex

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom!charlie, priest!charlie (duh), aspiring nun!reader, tattooed!reader, religious themes (obvi), catholicism, extremely blasphemous activities, mentions of mental health facilities and sobriety, mild religious trauma mention, baptism, submersion in holy water, semi-public sex, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, sex in water + in a church, fem + afab reader, breath play, hickeys, nipple play, cream pie, mentions of scars, use of “father” as an honorific in both a professional context and sexual context.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k

When you first visited the church to inquire about taking your vows as a nun, you weren’t sure what to expect. It had been so long since the last time you’d set foot in a church, but the moment you crossed that holy threshold a childhood full of memories came rushing back to you.

The church was not a place you ever thought you’d consider your home again once you reached adolescence, but now, after a decade of poor decisions and enough casual sex to put an end to global inceldom if you so wished, you found yourself back in a house of worship for the first time since childhood.

A six month-long stint in an in-patient psychiatric treatment center had been the catalyst, your first extended period of time being both sober and celibate since your teen years forcing you to face some hard truths about the way you’d been living your life.

You decided to see if there was any ounce of the faith you blindly held as a child still left somewhere deep in your subconscious, seeking out the nearest convent you could only a few weeks after your discharge from the facility.

Each step you took down the arched corridor to the church administrator’s office brought back flashes of the past, both bitter and sweet, the kaleidoscope of colors fanning in from the stained glass windows drawing a familiar sense of melancholy you had half-expected to reappear.

One thing you certainly were not expecting out of this visit was to meet one Father Charlie Mayhew. The curve of his jaw was the first thing you caught a glimpse of as he stepped out of the administrator’s office, the striking momentary glimpse of his side profile nearly knocking the wind out of you.

You squeaked out a faint “Sorry!” as you took a step back, your eyes locking with his. His cheeks creased in a charming smile, the black fabric of his clerical shirt pulling taut over his muscular forearm as he held the office door open for you. Your mind finally registered the flash of his white tab collar at his neck, prompting you to straighten up as a sign of respect.

“Thank you, Father-”

“Mayhew.” He finished, giving you a gentle nod as you returned the smile and slipped past him through the door frame. It was a small encounter, mere seconds of interaction, and yet you couldn’t shake the image of his smile from your mind for the rest of the day.

That was six months ago, and in the time since, every interaction you’d had with him had only worsened your attraction to him. He was equal parts charismatic and enigmatic, sharing fascinating details of his hobbies and interests and how they brought him closer to God, yet remaining at an arm’s length, keeping parts of himself closed off from you as well as the rest of the clergy.

Today was the day you were to begin your official commitment to your religious journey, ready to begin the years-long journey to take your vows. There was one final requirement you had to complete, needing to amend the oversight your parents had made in never getting around to having you baptized as a child.

You’d spent the majority of the day working on your studies, doing everything you could to distract yourself from the nerves growing in your tummy over your baptism ceremony. You weren’t nervous about the ceremony itself, it was a private ritual to be held before only God, you, and the priest performing it at an hour late enough that most of the convent would be fast asleep. The only problem was that the priest performing your baptism was none other than the man you’d become desperate for, Father Mayhew.

You had completed your post-dinner stroll around the campus, the sun set well below the horizon as the moon rose high in the sky. It was almost time, and when you returned to your dormitory, you stripped from your robes and hopped into a cold shower the moment the door shut behind you. Cleanliness was next to Godliness afterall, and the heat in your cheeks caused by your wandering mind needed to be quelled before facing the man at the center of your wildest fantasies.

When you had finally calmed yourself to a manageable level you stepped out of the shower, quickly wicking the water droplets off of your skin before pulling the flowy cotton nightgown over your bare body. You didn’t bother with undergarments, knowing they’d be just another layer of soaking wet fabric you’d have to peel from your shivering body in likely less than an hour.

You made your way down the hallway of the dormitory, your simple black ballet flats clicking gently against the sleek tile floor. After what felt like forever, you finally arrived at the connecting door of the chappel, pausing momentarily to gather your nerves one last time. The large wooden door creaked as you slowly pushed it open, moonlight shining through the tall stained glass portraits lining the walls of the hall. The flicker of candlelight pulled your eye to the baptismal font, flames dancing in the reflection of the pool.

Charlie stood tall, his hands folded behind his back as you slowly closed the space between you, stopping when there remained only a foot of space.

“Good evening, Father.” You greeted, barely above a whisper. He returned the greeting and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on your damp hair. You realized it was the first time he’d seen it completely uncovered since that first day you met six months ago, and you had to fight the urge to attempt to cover yourself. You were supposed to be in as natural of a state as possible in order to properly cover yourself in God’s protection, that was why you agreed to a full immersion baptism in the first place. There was no need to hide yourself from him tonight.

“Let’s begin.” He extended his hand to you, giving a reassuring smile as he guided you to the edge of the basin, taking each step into the lukewarm water. When you reached the center of the small pool, you observed the way the water level barely reached his knee but was fully up to your upper thigh, making your height difference glaringly obvious. You shivered, not only from the slight temperature of the holy water around you, but also the intimidation that his stature brought as he looked down at you.

“Cross your arms over your chest, please.” He instructed, taking a step closer to you so his torso was mere millimeters from being flush with yours, his right arm wrapping around your waist to cradle your lower back just above your tailbone.

“I’m going to do a short reading, then guide you to fall back into the water. You’ll only be under for a second, and I’ll pull you back out.” His voice was low, dulcet tones pairing beautifully with the atmosphere the dim lighting of the room created and you felt that familiar sin rising between your thighs, unable to remove your gaze from his immaculately sculpted facial features. You nodded in understanding, holding your arms across your heaving chest, hoping they disguised the evidence of your rapid heart rate and increasingly labored breaths.

“The Lord will cleanse the baptized from their impurities and idols, and give them a new heart and spirit. Through faith in Christ's death, God makes the baptized one with himself. May our sister lead a life worthy of her vocation, and preserve the unity of the Spirit.” He chanted, executing the sign of the cross before his free hand wrapped behind your shoulder to cradle you, exchanging a slight nod before you shut your eyes and allowed your body to fall back, holy water engulfing every inch of you for only a moment.

His strong arms lifted you out back out of the water, helping you find your footing on shaky knees, all the while your eyes remained shut. You hadn’t anticipated how sheer your shroud would become once it had taken on water, the lightweight linen clinging to every curve and contour of your body. Your whole frame shivered, painfully aware of the fact that your nipples were glaringly pert against the soaked fabric.

“You can open your eyes.” His hands remained around your waist, squeezing slightly with the lighthearted words as he waited for your response to finally being cleansed and fully protected.

Charlie couldn’t deny that his natural desires were running rampant at the sight of you, all wet and shivering on trembling legs like a fawn who’d slipped through the ice of a frozen lake, barely making it back to shore. Your nightgown was exceedingly translucent as it clung to your most intimate parts, the dark outline of your tattoos being what shocked him the most despite the allure of your breasts.

He hadn’t anticipated a girl with a face as angelic as yours could possibly be hiding markings such as these beneath the long sleeves he’d only ever seen you in. But then again, he doubted you’d ever anticipate the deep scars that adorned his back either. You weren’t the girl who had chosen to get those tattoos anymore, but he wondered if the girl you were now still had such a strong penchant for pain.

When you finally opened your eyes, ready to face the embarrassment of your exposed chest, you were surprised to find Father Mathew’s gaze not fixated on your breast, but rather your arms. You were so used to your tattoos, they barely even registered in your mind when you saw your reflection in the mirror each morning, so you had completely overlooked the fact that no one in the parish knew about them.

“I-I was a very different person when I got them.” You stumbled over your words, feeling a strong sense of insecurity about the way you’d dishonored your body in the eyes of the church.

“I find them to be an exquisite decoration of the temple that is your body, you know I don’t believe in the enforcement of many of the strict rules of the old church. You don’t have to justify yourself to me.” His right hand left your hip, finding your arm and lifting it to his mouth, plush lips placing firm kisses over the prominent vein at the base of your wrist before making his way further up, following the trail of your tattoos.

You mewled like a frightened kitten, so incredibly touch starved after a year of celibacy that you thought you might cum just from the heat of his mouth against your sensitive skin. As he pushed the sopping wet fabric of the bell sleeve further up your arm, your eyes fluttered shut, knees going weak again. You couldn’t believe he was touching you this way, even just chaste kisses along your limbs forcing the heat in your core to reach a boiling point. You couldn’t do this.

“Father, stop.” You tried to be as stern as possible but it came out as nothing more than a halfhearted sigh of defeat, your eyes pulled into a desperate plead. You wanted more, needed him so deep inside you that he might fill the God-shaped hole in your heart, but you were preparing to take a vow. That was the whole point of this, the very reason you were here with him in the first place.

“Now that you’ve been baptized, you are cleansed of your past sins and will be forgiven for those you commit going forward. We are and always will be sinners.” The look in his eyes was nothing but carnal, all reservations you held melting away with his insight.

“Fuck it.” You replied, a bit of the old you peeking through for a split second. Hearing that filthy word leave your cherubic lips set something off in him, causing him to drop your wrist and use his strong grip to pull you by your waist until you were completely flush with him, his mouth quickly finding yours in a kiss so forceful you wondered if your lip would bruise.

His hands were everywhere, squeezing and groping at your tender flesh through the fabric, almost fighting with the garment as it clung to your skin. You quickly grabbed for the hem still floating against your thighs in the water, peeling it as high up as you could before being forced to break away from him to pull it over your head. The sheer weight of the soaked gown was almost too much for you to lift, your arms shaking as you attempted to move it over your head.

Charlie took the bunched fabric from you, lifting it the rest of the way so you were finally free, completely nude in front of his still fully dressed state. You felt more vulnerable than ever before, so exposed in such a holy place, all the while he still held all of his modesty beneath his sleek black clerical shirt and slacks, barely saturated by the low water level.

“Good lord, you’re straight out of a renaissance painting.” He eyed you up and down, admiring every detail of your trembling body before his eyes settled on your breasts. His mouth began to water, the need to have his mouth on you again overwhelming his every thought. He closed the space between you once more, pushing you until your back hit the side of the pool.

“Up.” He mumbled against your neck, slender fingers gripping into the flesh of your hips as you jumped, his firm hold guiding your ass up onto the ledge, your feet dangling in the water. He pushed your thighs apart and pulled you to the very edge, just teetering on the slick tile. He took a step back, ripping the tab collar from his neck and starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. You instinctively began to close your legs, his eyes boring into you like a beam of sunlight.

“Keep them open.” His tone was more stern, hand reaching out to push your knee to its previous position.

“You hold heaven’s gate between your thighs, angel. Give me a chance to take it all in.” His voice was like smoked honey, smooth and intoxicating simultaneously, his nimble fingers expertly undoing the last of the buttons on his shirt before peeling it off of his toned arms. He made quick work of undoing his slacks, pushing them along with his underwear down his thighs, his hard cock slapping against his lower stomach before bobbing teasingly between his muscular thigh.

You had to fight your jaw from dropping at the sight, his cock just as mesmerizing as the rest of him, all flushed pink and dripping, his shaft taking a slight curve to the right, prominent vein running down the entire length of the left side, and the blushed tip glistening with precum. He nearly laughed at the look on your face, pushing the sound down in his throat to prevent any misinterpretation of his amusement.

He was enamored by you, this anomaly of a woman, equal parts innocent and sinful, all wrapped up in a package he couldn’t resist any longer. He sank to his knees, creating a wave in the water around him as he crawled those last few steps to you, still barely submerged up to his waist.

He placed an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, sucking hungrily on the plush skin in a trail leading straight to your pussy, blushed purple and red bruises blooming in his wake.

When he reached your cunt, he took a deep breath and exhaled a slow stream of air over your labia, observing the way your breath hitched and your stomach muscles tightened, reactive like a born again virgin.

He gave no warning, practically diving into your folds, tongue lapping hungrily at the nectar dripping from your entrance, like Samson drinking from the rock basin after nearly dying of thirst.

His large hands held your thighs apart with a determination you’d never felt, the pads of his manicured fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. Your hands moved to his perfectly quaffed hair, undoing the gelled style with the run of your dainty fingers through it, finding the tresses at the nape of his neck and pushing his face closer still to your cunt.

He was relentless, alternating in broad strokes and pointed flicks against your clit until your thighs shook, teetering dangerously close to both the edge of the pool and your first outsourced orgasm in over a year.

He replaced his right hand with his shoulder against your thigh to keep you spread wide open, his index and middle fingers broaching your entrance only to be quickly wrapped in your tight warmth, your neglected walls clinging to any stimulation they could get. One, two, three curls of his fingers against the velvety soft patch inside of you had you riding his face without inhibition, your cries of pleasure dulled only by your own hand clamped over your open mouth.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had cum that quickly, his actions drawing an unceremoniously fast reaction from you and you almost felt betrayed by your own body, unable to control your own sober actions for the first time in God knows how long.

“Need to feel your perfect cunt around my cock.” He panted through labored breaths as he finally pulled away from your overly sensitive clit, the bottom half of his face glistening just the same as your cunt.

He rose to his feet, taking you by the hips again and helping you back into the water, a chill running up your spine at the change in temperature. Your feet had barely touched the tile at the bottom before he was hauling you to the steps, gently pushing down on your shoulder to sit on the middle step.

“I want to see your angelic face while I ruin you.” He took your ankles in his grip, forcing your legs up to your chest as he knelt on the step below yours, aligning the head of his shaft with your weeping entrance. He brought his right hand up to the side of your face, thumb brushing along your jawline before dipping lower, his fingers wrapping firmly around your throat as he entered you fully with a single thrust. You gasped, the corners of your mouth pulling into a devilish smile at the sudden show of control, reveling in the feeling of his thick cock stretching your tight walls.

The holy water around you splashed with every rock of your connected hips, surrounding the place you were intertwined most intimately. Charlie dipped his head down to your chest, taking advantage of the way your back arched away from the edge of the step to take your pert nipple in his mouth, sucking gently at first until it devolved into hungry grazes of teeth and flicks of his expertly trained tongue. His grip on your throat tightened, his forearm pressing down on your other breast as he braced himself against the tile with his free hand.

You threw your head back, crying out in soft whimpers as he moaned against your breast, the upward angle of his thrusts causing the head of his cock to repeatedly hit the soft, sensitive spot deep inside of you, bringing you hurtling toward another orgasm.

“Come on, angel, show God how good this carnal sin feels.” He pulled away from your nipple just long enough to groan out the most blasphemous sentence you’d ever heard in your life, and you almost screamed from how hard he thrust up into you, swearing he had hit your cervix.

“Please, Father!” You moaned, pawing at his back, feeling the raised skin of his scars against your gentle fingertips. You made a mental note to inquire about them after, too lost in the feeling of him drawing you closer and closer to your orgasm to ask questions in the moment.

He rose back up from your chest, an animalistic open-mouth smirk on his face as he squeezed the sides of your neck tighter still, the lack of blood flow to your brain giving you a high you hadn’t quite experienced before. His eyes burned into yours, locked in a gaze you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to break as he gave a few more brutal thrusts into your aching cunt, finally reaching that euphoria you’d been craving from the moment you met him.

“Oh, God!” You cried out, watching the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes as you clamped down around him, forcing him to slow his pace inside of you. His hips began to falter, your cunt milking him relentlessly until the coil snapped, spilling his warm load deep inside of you. Watching the way the vein in his temple strained as he groaned above you gave you the same sense of satisfaction, knowing you could bring him to such a vulnerable state before the God you both served.

When you’d both caught your breath he pulled out of you, milky white cum swirling into the water. You’d almost feel ashamed if it weren’t for the afterglow you resided in, head still spinning from the deliciously pleasurable acts you’d just participated in.

“I have to drain the pool and refill it for tomorrow’s morning Mass, and you need to be back in your dorm before Mother Superior wakes up.” He stated matter-of-factly as he took your hand and helped you out of the pool, still shivering in the cold night air.

“Can we do this again?” You questioned meekly, apprehension setting in as you felt him pulling away from you.

“I’ll come by the dorms tomorrow during your lunch hour.” He squeezed your hand, giving a final reassuring smile as he handed you your now partially dried gown, nodding toward the door before you exchanged goodnights. You spent the rest of your night laying in your bed, slipping in and out of sleep, too distracted by your anticipation for what was to come to ever slip into a proper slumber.

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tagging my maywhores <3 (i just came up with that what do we think??): @xxbimbobunnyxx @babygorewhore

please comment or message me if you’d like to be tagged in my charlie mayhew fics going forward!!