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chleem · 6 days ago

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After the first date

One shot: singledad!drew starkey x younger!reader

Summary: after the first date with this 'perfect' guy, you head to his place for some mind-blowing sex. until...

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension, making out, talk of kinks, implied age gap (read at own caution

⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work pls

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You couldn’t help yourself.

The car ride over to his place was filled with sexual tension, that you and Drew knew couldn’t be ignored.

Once the elevator door closes, you throw yourself onto Drew, lips locking in with his, in urgency.

Drew, the blind date that your friend set you up with.

You expected it to be some loser, because she always fails at finding the right guy for you. But to your surprise, Drew turned out to be incredibly charming. Yes, he was a bit older. But…he certainly didn’t look his age.

The whole night, from the restaurant food, to the conversation topics, everything flowed perfectly. He was not only listening, but paying attention, and he had this kind of humor that fitted perfectly with yours.

Perfectly. Is there a word more perfect than perfect? Because that’s how the date went.

The date was perfect, which, was weird.

There must be a catch to a perfect first date, right? But so far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

His back hits the wall with a thud, your arms wrapping around his neck to press yourself closer to him.

You wanted him, and you showed him just that.

He gasps into your mouth, surprised, and it takes a few seconds for him to relax under your touch.

He kisses back, tender and slow compared to your desperate, passionate energy.

His lips are soft, but there's a certain intensity in how he deepens the kiss, allowing the moment to stretch, as if savoring each second.

His hands roam around your back, feeling the material of your dress, as his breath mingles with yours. You do the same, hands running through his hair, then the back of his neck, then massaging gently on his shoulders.

You can feel his heartbeat, steady and calm, as though he's slowly pulling you into his rhythm, balancing out the storm inside you with his quiet strength.

The elevator shakes quietly with each passing floor, and you could feel the hunger inside of you growing.

It’s frantic, untidy, with no real rhythm—but it's genuine, filled with an undeniable sense of longing.

Too into it, it takes a few seconds for you to reopen your eyes after Drew pulls away, his mesmerizing blue eyes staring down at you.

Still in each other’s arms, you mirror his expression, one of flushed cheeks, parted lips, and breathlessness.

Ding.

The elevator door opens, neither of you seems in a hurry to move, caught in the electricity of the connection you’ve just shared.

Ding.

Drew’s gaze never wavers from yours, and with a steady hand, he reaches out to stop the door from closing.

Your eyes flicker to his lips, and you close your eyes, ready to welcome the softness of his lips again.

Until, you hear a soft laugh escaping the air.

You peek, and see Drew’s smile, soft yet playful.

He leans in close to you, his nose ghostly brushing against yours.

“I don’t sleep- I don’t sleep on the first date.”

Ding.

You blink, the sudden shift in his tone pulling you back to reality.

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything feels like it just...paused. You try to mask the disappointment that settles in, but it’s clear on the frown that’s creeping up your face.

Then…why did he bring you back to his place?

Drew reaches for the button to keep the door from closing, his hand hovering just a bit longer than needed.

“But-“ his hand comes up, brushing the hair away from your neck, “I’ll do it- I’ll break the fucking- fucking rule.”

A giggle escapes you when he finishes his sentence, your shoulders relaxing as his lips graze the skin there.

It’s ticklish as he gently nibbles, lips traveling lower, lower, lower, ghosting over your cleavage.

You let out a soft moan, hands tugging on his tie to take it off.

...But it does the opposite.

As your fingers tug, the tie tightens around his neck, pulling him just out of the rhythm you two had been in.

Drew gasps, the sound surprising both of you, and he pulls away sharply, eyes wide for a moment as he catches his breath.

You’re pushed away, panic coursing through your veins, as you realized you’ve probably just frightened him and ruined the chances of getting laid.

“Shit- shit, I’m so sorry, shit-“

Ding.

Another reminder to get out the elevator.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, hopeless as you watch his hand instinctively go to his neck, loosening the fabric with a quick movement.

His eyes meet yours, and you prepare yourself for a deep scolding of some kind.

Then, the corner of his lips curl up, the wrinkles around his eyes appearing, “kinks on the first date?”

You freeze for just a second, processing his words, then, laughter bubbles up between you two. You can’t help but chuckle—though it’s more shy than confident, a bit of heat creeping into your cheeks.

Drew’s arm comes up to the elevator door, his body leaning against it as an indication for you to step out.

“I don’t know-“ you start, stepping out, feeling his presence behind you.

The door shuts with a soft ding, and his footsteps match the click of your heels as you walk down the hall. “-I don’t mind choking. You?”

You take a quick look around—okay, okay, his apartment’s not that bad. The place looks sleek, modern, and way nicer than you expected.

Great. The perfect date, the perfect guy, perfect apartment, what could go wrong with this?

You glance to your side, and a rush of butterflies hits you all at once—Drew’s already staring down at you.

You don’t know if it’s the look itself or the blueness of his eyes, but it’s definitely something.

You’re suddenly so aware of the words that just left your mouth; you’re playing a dangerous game right now.

He licks his lips, and you feel the brief touch of his hand on your lower back, “spitting."

Nasty. Yet, you’re down for it. Down for this perfect man right here.

You break eye contact, looking ahead of you as the two of you walked down the hall. And you don’t know why, but you’re intrigued to continue this conversation, “spanking.”

“Spanking? Receiving or…”

“Receiving,” you whisper, and then, he stops you at door 1104.

You lean against the wall, watching the way he reaches into his pocket. You bite your lip, excited and anxious about his next words.

Drew looks at you with that same smirk, a look that sends a wave of heat through you.

His eyes are unreadable for a moment, and then, he leans in.

Your breath hitches as he towers over you, caging you close to the wall.

Instinctively, you raise a hand, fingertips touching his loosened tie, then slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

His lips are dangerously close to yours, and you relax your eyes, ready for a much needed, heated kiss, something more passionate that the one in the elevator.

“Once I open the door…”

You hum, listening intently to Drew’s next words, voice now dropped to a low whisper.

“We’re doing it- doing it on the counter…”

One of his hands slip underneath your dress, gripping the flesh of your thigh.

A sharp breath escapes you, your back arching into him.

“Gonna rip this dress off of you,”

His words come to an abrupt stop as lips come crashing into yours, eagerly, as if he couldn’t wait another second.

You kiss him back immediately, your tongues mixing together once again.

The sound of the door unlocking cuts through the air, and before you can even process it, you're swept off your feet. His arms wrap around you with effortless strength, lifting you off the ground, your body pressed against his.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you don’t dare to move away from his lips, too lost in the softness and wetness of them.

You’ve never found yourself to enjoy kissing that much, yet, making out with Drew was electrifying, both of you fighting for control.

The back of your thighs hit the cold kitchen counter, Drew’s hand forcing your legs apart.

He stands between them, multitasking himself as his lips trail down your neck, a hand massaging your tits, the other snaking it’s way to your panties.

You let out a soft groan as he bites down on your collarbone, your hands busy with his belt.

But just as his hand cups your pussy over your panties, his belt falling to the floor with a hard thud,

A high-pitched scream echoes through the space.

Both you and Drew’s movements come to a halt, and in a flash, he’s pushed himself away, and no man has ever got off of you any faster.

“Shit-“

Drew rubs his face, fixing his shirt quickly, his eyes darting to what’s behind you, panic written all over his face.

You’re still breathless, your mind hazy from your own horniness, but quickly the concern begins to creep in.

What the hell was that scream?

You push yourself off the counter, adjusting your dress, ready to ask him what’s going on, when-

“Ew, Dad! You bought a girl home?”

You turn your head sharply toward the source, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes lock onto the young girl standing in the doorway of one of the rooms.

She…she looks a bit like Drew-

Wait-

Dad???

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks as your eyes widen at her words. Drew is her dad? He’s a daddy? He- he has a daughter??

The room suddenly feels a lot smaller, and your stomach flips with a mix of embarrassment and confusion.

The ‘perfect’ guy has a daughter. Your perfect date,…is a dad.

And as if it wasn’t enough, a young boy walks out from another room.

You freeze, your heart pounding as he steps into view. Oh my god.

He looks just like Drew, but a younger, chubbier version.

"Why we screaming?” He asks, those familiar, piercing blue eyes glancing around, “Dad?”

The boy’s words hang in the air like a shot to your chest.

Should you leave? Leave, leave, leave! Your brain shouts at you.

“What- what are you doing here?” Drew finally speaks up, his voice having an edge of panic to it. He takes a step forward, and to your surprise, he steps in front of you, almost as if he’s shielding you from his kids.

Your heels allow you to peek over his shoulders, and you quietly stand behind him, unsure why you’re not bolting out the door.

"Mom dropped us off," the young girl says casually.

Mom???

Is he married? No way-

You glance down at his left hand; no ring. Yeah, you remembered there was no ring on his finger. Plus, he didn’t mention anything about a partner…or kids. So…is he divorced? Split up? What- what’s going on?

You could feel your brain frying as it scrambles to piece together the scene in front of you.

"Mom dropped you off?" Drew asks, his voice tight with confusion and frustration.

He steps out of the kitchen, moving in front of his daughter and son, his posture rigid, his eyes searching them both for some kind of explanation.

You’re left speechless, frozen in place, your mind still whirling with questions. You feel dizzy, almost disconnected from the scene unfolding before you.

What happened to…ripping your dress off?

What happened to…doing it on the counter?

“Yeah- a few minutes ago,” his son answers.

You watch Drew, your breath catching for a moment.

He pokes his tongue against his cheek, a small, subtle movement, his eyes sharpening as he looks down at his kids. “Alright- um-“ Drew runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. His voice stutters out, “Give me a minute, okay?”

His kids exchange skeptical looks, then their eyes shift to you standing awkwardly in the kitchen.

His daughter, with a knowing look, crosses her arms and says, “just not on the counter, please.”

Flush creeps on your cheeks, and you wished there was a hole to dig yourself into.

A low chuckle escapes Drew, one that tells you he’s not surprised by his daughter’s attitude. The sound is almost amused, but there’s a hint of exhaustion in it, too.

"Get out of here, jeez,” he mutters, shaking his head as he waves them off, clearly over the whole thing.

His daughter rolls her eyes dramatically, but without saying another word, she turns, her brother trailing behind her, still casting curious glances your way.

As they disappear into their own bedrooms, the tension is slightly lifted, but only, replaced with awkward silence.

The huge elephant sits in the room; what now?

You both stand there, unsure of how to break the stillness.

Drew rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit, his eyes darting from the floor to you.

You, who hasn’t moved in that short five minutes, fidget with your hands.

"Look, I—“

"Hey, so I’m just—“

You both speak at the same time, your voices tripping over one another.

Awkward chuckles stubbles out of you, and you place a hand over your mouth, signaling for him to start.

“I- uh, wasn’t suppose to have them till tomorrow.”

You bite down on your lip, pushing your panicked thoughts aside to listen.

Drew walks over, and stands on the other side of the kitchen counter. His blue eyes meet yours, and there’s a quiet intensity in his gaze that you can’t quite put your finger on.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out at first. His jaw clenches, his brow furrowing as he tries to figure out what to say.

“…but uh, yeah, that was, my kids,” his voice is barely above a whisper now.

You look away from him, your gaze dropping to your hands, a nervous smile tugging at your lips. “They’re lovely,” you say, trying to lighten the awkwardness of the moment, though your mind is swirling with questions.

Why didn’t he mention this? At any point tonight? Why didn’t your friend—who set up this date—say anything about him having kids?

Your smile falters just a little, as the questions gnaw at you.

And he seems to read your mind- or, your body language.

“I should’ve told you, earlier in the night.”

You raise your eyebrows in a 'yeah, you should’ve' way, your shoulders slouching slightly as you exhale, “not even after I told you I liked kids?” you mention, recalling that part during dinner.

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, a soft vibration that catches you off guard, pulling your attention back to him.

“Did you like those brats, then?” he teases, a playful glint in his eyes. You can’t help but notice the way he looks at you—half-serious, half-amused��like he’s testing how you’ll respond.

“Clearly got it from their daddy,” you joke, laughing softly afterward.

Drew raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, clearly pleased by your retort. “Oh? Daddy kink?”

“Oh- god no,” you immediately say, and that earns a laugh from Drew.

As you watch his smile, listening to the sound of his laugh, you can’t help but wonder, what’s it like going out with someone’s daddy?

A…really hot one.

Aw, fuck, that’s weird.

Well… the fact that you’re still standing here and not sprinting off, says a lot.

Before you can add anything more, Drew checks his watch, his expression shifting slightly. His eyes meet yours, and there’s a touch of apology in them.

“Y’know, if the kids weren’t here…”

He walks around the counter, stepping beside you, his voice dropping to a low whisper, “you’d definitely be screaming into my pillows right now."

You immediately feel your face heat up, biting your lip to hold back the sudden rush of nervousness. Gosh, he’s good….probably why he has two kids.

You shake your head lightly, almost as if to shake those thoughts off, and then you manage to say, “Your original plan, right?”

Drew’s lips twitch into a half-smile, his eyes still locked on you, but there’s something deeper behind them now. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low, the implication clear, “the original plan.”

The words hang in the air, but then you quickly break eye contact, your voice a little shaky as you respond.

"But uh— I should get going.”

He steps forward, a sudden urgency in his voice as he says, “Wait, lemme drive you—”

“No, I got it,” you interrupt, voice steady.

He’s a bit taken back by it, but he nods slowly, "Okay... okay, well, at least let me walk you downstairs.”

You shake your head quickly, “no- no.”

“C’mon, please, y/n.”

It’s the way he says your name—gentle, coaxing—that makes your heart race again, and you couldn’t help it, “fine.”

His blue eyes light up instantly, that spark of relief and something else flickering across his face.

Drew steps aside, opening the door for you, leaning against it.

You could feel him staring down at you when you passed by him.

And as you walk down the hallway with him, you find yourself lost for words.

You’re still fixated on the fact that your perfect date is a dad.

With two kids.

Fuck.

Did that make him even more perfect? Or the opposite?

You…you really don’t know.

“You, you okay?” Drew asks, his voice full of concern.

“Yeah- yeah, I’m fine.”

He presses the button once you reach the elevator door, and you can’t help but feel self-conscious as the two of you wait for it to arrive.

You keep your eyes focused on the top screen, watching the floor the elevator is currently on.

Then, you feel a heavy fabric drape onto your shoulders, and when you turn toward Drew, your hands brushing against the cloth, you realize he's given you his suit jacket.

“Oh—thanks,” you say, surprised. You can’t quite tell if it’s the warmth of the jacket or the gesture itself that’s making your heart race again.

Drew smiles, the wrinkles around his eyes appearing again.

Ding.

You step in the elevator with Drew.

Ding.

He presses the button for the first floor, his shoulder brushing against yours as you stand close to him.

You can’t help but glance at him, at the side of his face, your mind flooding with the memories of a few minutes ago, of making out in this exact elevator.

But with the way he keeps his hands tucked into his pockets, eyes staring ahead, that controlled stillness about him, you realize he's not going to make a move.

He’s not gonna initiate another kiss in the elevator.

A kiss that might escalate to a full blown make-out session.

A make-out session that might be better than the last one you shared-

“Mph!”

Drew suddenly turns around, hands cupping your face as his lips crash into yours.

You stumble slightly, the jacket falling off your shoulders as you melt into him, letting instincts take over.

He kisses you, as if your lips are what keeps him alive.

You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling against him as you savor the way his lips taste. Sweet, soft, and intoxicating, things you wouldn’t expect a first date to taste like.

Let alone, a dad.

Your tongue sloppily thrusts into his, while you find his growing rougher by the second.

Shit, he’s a good kisser.

Ding.

The elevator door opens, and a soft gasp is heard.

You furrow your eyebrows, pulling away from Drew.

Behind him, you see an elderly woman, her hands gripping a bag of groceries, her eyes wide in surprise.

Great. The second- third person to catch you making out with Drew.

He follows your gaze, turning his head. His shoulders drop when he sees the elderly woman, and you quickly pull his hands off your face.

“Hi,” you whisper to her, before rushing past her, mostly due to embarrassment.

“Hi, uh, hey, Ms Jones,” you hear Drew call out, his voice slightly hushed.

Upon hearing footsteps following behind you, you slow down, trying to steady your breath.

“That was Ms Jones,” Drew whispers to you, and then, you feel the same fabric drape over your shoulders again. He steps a little closer, his voice low, “yeah- sorry about that.”

“About what?”

“That- uh, that,” his eyes flicker to your lips again.

“That kiss?”

The building’s front door opens by itself, and you step out, pulling out your phone to call an Uber.

“No- the interruptions.”

Interruptions. Plural.

A smile spreads on your face as you look down at your phone, fingers coming to a halt.

“I told you, my original plan.”

An Uber coming your way, just around the corner.

You look up, meeting his blue eyes that seem to reflect every thought he has, raw and unguarded.

“I know,” you tell him, before adding, “besides, you’ve got my number.”

He chuckles, “yeah, I- I do.”

“So do the plan next time.”

“I know- I’ll definitely…definitely do you next time.”

You look away, a bit shy under the intensity of his eyes and words.

“So call me,” you say, looking ahead, and you hear a chuckle from him.

“I will.”

“You will?”

“Yeah. Will…will you answer?”

“Depends. Will you be alone?”

“Of course,” he says, his voice a little quieter now.

Then, the headlights of a car approach, and you start to shrug off his jacket, but he stops you.

“Keep it,” he says, his voice soft but insistent. “Gives me a reason to see you again.”

“You need a reason to see me?” you ask, teasingly with your eyebrows raised.

“...No,” he chuckles, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You laugh, but you keep the jacket on.

“Call me,” you whisper again, as he opens the car door.

His hand hovers over the top of the car as you settle in, and he leans down, his face inches from yours.

“I don’t know… isn’t there a rule to wait three days?”

You roll your eyes, your own lips betraying you as you smile, reaching to close the door.

But then, he catches your hand, holding it for a second before saying, “it’s a promise.”

He lets go and closes the car door, stepping back. But he doesn’t break eye contact, holding it through the window.

You wave goodbye, and so does he, his smile lingering just a little longer.

The car starts to drive off, and even as it gets further away, you keep looking back, seeing Drew standing there, watching you go.

And when he gradually fades into the distance, you sit back, your hands coming up to touch your lips.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

This could either go perfectly right, or leave you a crumbling mess.

Well, you might have to decide about that on the second date.

… Or when he calls.

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word count: 3.8k

࣪𖤐 a/n: hello??? i actually got very shy writing this, dad!drew is my fav T_ T

plus, this brown suit lives in my mind rent free

and yes, this piece might be a bit cringe but i like it, sue me

elevator | other

#drew starkey fic #drew starkey #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x you #oneshot #dad!drew starkey #fluff

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crushpunky · 3 months ago

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drew and actress!reader do the “we listen and we don’t judge” challenge

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

cute lil suggestion <3

Y/n set her phone up with a smile on her lips, Drew sitting next to her at their kitchen island, his hair messy as he took a sip of coffee. The two of them had finally gotten out of bed after an hour of cuddling in the early morning light of their bedroom, chatting and showing each other videos the other thought they’d like. After making the two of them coffee, y/n decided it would be fun to make a little video of their own.

“Ok, let’s go.” Y/n grinned, pressing record and sitting back on her stool.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The two of them said, Drew looking at y/n with a quirk of his brow as he anticipated y/n’s answer.

“The real reason I got a black eye last summer was because I ran into the wall when I was on my phone, not because I fell while shooting.” Y/n bit her lip. Drew already knew that, having witnessed the incident, but the two of them had agreed to keep up the lie to spare the embarrassment and teasing from the rest of the cast.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The two of them said.

“Sometimes I pretend to be asleep just so I can listen to you talk to yourself in the morning.” Drew smirked. Y/n had a habit of talking to herself in preparation for the day, sometimes even singing a bit as she got around. It was a habit Drew found endearing, but he knew if she knew he was awake she would stop… so he pretended to be asleep.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” They said.

“When we first moved in together I was nervous to… poop in our bathroom and would walk to Madelyn’s apartment every time I had to go to the bathroom.” Y/n giggled. Drew’s cheeks flushed, trying his best not to spit out his coffee.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The two of them said.

“When we first moved in together I was nervous to poop in our bathroom and would walk to Austin’s apartment every time I had to go to the bathroom.” Drew said. Y/n’s jaw dropped, the two of them laughing at their common secret.

“So nobody pooped in our bathroom for the first few months we lived together?” Y/n asked with a giggle.

“I had a crush on you! I didn’t want you to think I was gross.” Drew blushed, swirling his coffee aimlessly. Y/n pouted playfully before pressing a kiss to Drew’s cheek.

“Ok, ok. Back to business.” Y/n said.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” They said.

“I have a folder of edits of you on my Tik Tok I watch when I miss you.” Y/n laughed, covering her face as Drew tried to hold back his giggles.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The two of them said.

“One time when I was really drunk I accidentally used like all of your really nice shampoo and blamed it on my sister when she was visiting.” Drew smirked, biting his lip. “I had a buzzcut at the time too, so I don’t know what inspired me to do that.”

“I knew it wasn’t her!” Y/n gasped.

“We don’t judge! We don’t judge!” Drew said, raising his hands in surrender.

“Yes, yes, sorry.” Y/n smiled.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” They said.

“The first time you made me Mama Jodi’s casserole I think you messed something up because I got really bad food poisoning, but I didn’t want to tell you because you were so excited.” Y/n said quickly. Drew’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping at her confession.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” They said together.

“I asked my mom for her ring after only four months of us dating.” Drew said, a blush spreading across his cheeks. She had known the ring he had proposed to her with was his mothers, updated by Drew to match y/n’s own taste, and she knew he had been holding onto it for a while, but she didn’t realize just how long.

“Are you serious?” Y/n raised her brows in surprise, her stomach fluttering.

“I knew you were it for me.” Drew said with a simple shrug. Y/n felt her cheeks grow warm as she flung her arms around Drew’s broad shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you and your big, romantic heart, Starkey.” Y/n grinned up at him, her arms still resting on his shoulders. Drew smiled back at her, his eyes scanning over her face with a smile on his lips.

“I love you… even if you have a folder of saved Tik Toks of me—” Drew giggled.

“We don’t judge!” Y/n laughed.

“We don’t judge.” Drew grinned, pressing a quick kiss to y/n’s nose before ending the video.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x actress!reader #actress!reader

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winxanity-ii · 5 months ago

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DAMNED DEVOTION [3/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 ( m. receiving oral/handjob; fem. receiving oral; p in v; overstimulation; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos; breeding kink; degradation/praise kink; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 5.4k a/n: ahhh, i can't believe i finally finished the final part to this little 'devotion' piece. to thank you all for following along with this series i may have gone a little filthy 😅 also, don't know if you guys care to know, but it's my twin (@k-nayee) and i's 20th birthday today, wheeewwww 🎉🥳! i'll see you all in the next update, and don't be afraid to shoot an ask/request or check out my other works! this is a continuation of my previous one-shotS, '𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍' and '𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.' If you haven't read those yet, I recommend starting there to understand the progression of their relationship….

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

It was a bright afternoon, the sun hanging high in the sky, its rays filtering through the branches of the old oak tree that stood at the edge of the courtyard. The air smelled fresh, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant murmur of conversation.

A group of young nuns-in-training, dressed in their modest habits, sat on the grass, their voices soft with laughter. You were among them, sitting with your legs tucked beneath you, your Bible open in your lap, a pencil in your hand as you made notes from the earlier service.

The warmth of the sun on your skin made you feel content, almost peaceful, and you were momentarily lost in thought, the words on the page blurring slightly as your mind wandered.

"Sister ____!" a voice called, breaking through your concentration.

You looked up, startled, to see one of the younger nuns smiling at you, her eyes bright with curiosity. She had a round face, still clinging to the softness of her youth, her cheeks flushed from the sun. Her name was Sister Olive, and she was always one of the more talkative ones, her energy infectious among the group.

"Yes?" you replied, giving her a gentle smile. The group of nuns-in-training giggled amongst themselves, their eyes flickering between you and something—or rather someone—further down the courtyard path.

You followed their gaze and saw Father Charlie walking alongside another priest, his expression focused, his hands clasped behind his back.

The sun seemed to catch on his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the soft waves of his hair. He looked every bit the holy man, yet there was an undeniable handsomeness to him, something that drew eyes wherever he went.

Sister Olive leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sister ____, does Father Charlie have a wife?"

Your brows furrowed slightly, confused by the question. "Pardon?" you asked, blinking as you looked back at her.

The group broke into another fit of giggles, Sister Olive glancing towards Father Charlie again before continuing. "I heard that priests can be married if they were married before being ordained..." she trailed off, her tone curious, her gaze turning back to you. "I just wondered if Father Charlie was ever married. He seems like he could be, doesn't he?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at the implication, and you quickly shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. "No, Sister Olive, he isn't married," you answered, your tone soft but firm.

The young nuns exchanged glances, and another wave of giggles spread through the group, their laughter light and full of the innocence of youth.

Sister Olive sighed dramatically, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Ah, I thought so. He's too serious to have a wife, don't you think? But still... he's quite handsome."

You swallowed, glancing back towards Father Charlie, who was now nearing the edge of the courtyard, his eyes scanning the area as if searching for something—or someone.

You quickly looked away, your heart fluttering in your chest, a strange mixture of emotions churning within you. You knew you shouldn't think of him in that way, shouldn't let the words of the younger nuns affect you, but it was impossible not to.

The memory of his touch, his voice, the way he had looked at you in the confessional—it all came rushing back, making your pulse quicken, your hands trembling slightly as you closed your Bible.

A second later, a shadow fell over the group; the young nuns quickly quieted, their giggles turning into soft murmurs. Looking up, you saw Father Charlie standing before you, a small, knowing grin on his lips.

His eyes locked onto yours, an intensity in his gaze that made your breath catch. He gave a short, polite bow of his head. "Good morning, Sister ____," he said, his voice smooth, almost gentle, before his gaze shifted to the rest of the group. "Good morning, sisters."

The young nuns responded in unison, their voices a mix of giggles and greetings. You looked down at your Bible, mumbling a quiet, "Good morning, Father Charlie," along with the others, your face heating up under his watchful eyes.

You thought that was the end of it, that he would move on and let you be, but then he spoke again, his voice calling your name.

"Sister ____," he said, his tone still polite, but there was something in it that made your heart skip a beat. "I was hoping I could have your assistance with preparing for next week's sermon. I need some help organizing the notes and scriptures. Would you be able to spare a moment?"

You felt your heart race, already knowing that this was a lie, that his request had little to do with the sermon and everything to do with the tension that lingered between you.

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile, nodding as you closed your Bible and rose to your feet. "Of course, Father," you replied, turning to the young nuns. "I'll see you all later."

They nodded, their eyes wide with curiosity as they watched you walk away with Father Charlie. He led you across the courtyard, his pace measured, his hands clasped behind his back.

You followed him in silence, your heart pounding, your mind racing with a mix of anticipation and fear.

He brought you to the sacristy—a room in the church where sacred objects and vestments were kept and prepared for use during rituals.

The room was medium-sized, its thick concrete walls lined with shelves that held ornate chalices, gilded candlesticks, and other sacred items. A large wooden table stood in the center, covered with cloth and a few open books, the sunlight streaming through the small window, casting a warm glow over the space.

The air smelled faintly of incense, the scent comforting yet heavy, reminding you of the solemnity of the church.

You turned around just in time to see Father Charlie shut the door, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet room.

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat as he turned back to you, his eyes dark, filled with something you couldn't quite name—something that made your pulse quicken, your hands trembling slightly at your sides.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, and turned back around, your eyes roaming over the various sacred objects lining the shelves. You busied yourself by adjusting the cloth on the table, pretending to study the items, anything to keep yourself distracted from the tension filling the room.

You could feel him behind you, his presence heavy, the air thick with something unspoken.

A shudder ran through you as you felt his hands on your shoulders, his fingers rubbing gently against the fabric of your habit, caressing your shoulders with a slow, deliberate touch. You closed your eyes, trying to suppress the tremble that ran through your body, your breath catching in your throat.

"F-Father Charlie..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Before you could say anything more, he spun you around, his hands firm on your shoulders. His eyes were intense, dark, filled with a hunger that made your knees weak. His face was inches from yours, and you could see the way his pupils were blown wide; his lips parted slightly as he looked at you.

"Shhh," he murmured, one of his hands moving up to cup your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His touch was gentle, almost tender, but there was an intensity behind it that made your heart race. His gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, you felt like you were caught, trapped in the depth of his eyes, unable to look away.

You took a shaky step back, your eyes dropping to the floor as you tried to gather your thoughts. You turned away from him, your hands gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles white as you spoke, your voice trembling. "Father, I... I find myself at war. What we... what we have, it's wrong. It's against everything we believe in, everything we stand for. I can't... we can't keep doing this."

You heard him let out a soft, frustrated sigh, and a second later, his hands were on you again, spinning you around to face him. There was a tension in his jaw; his eyes narrowed slightly, frustration evident in the way he looked at you.

"No," he said, his voice firm, his gaze intense as he held you in place. "No, Sister. You're wrong. This... what we have, it's not wrong. It's not some sin that we need to be ashamed of." His voice softened slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Do you think the love between Jesus and Mary Magdalene was wrong? Do you think He loved her any less because of who she was? Love is not something to be condemned, not when it's real... not when it consumes you the way this consumes me."

His voice dropped lower, almost a groan, his eyes darkening as he stepped closer, his chest brushing against yours. "You have no idea what you do to me. The way you look at me, the way you move, the way you speak—it's made me delirious. I can't think of anything else but you; I can't focus on anything but this need, this hunger for you. You've taken hold of me, body and soul, and I can't... I can't let you go."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing at the intensity of his gaze, the raw need in his voice. You could feel your resolve crumbling, the conflict within you fading beneath the weight of his confession, the depth of his longing.

"Please," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, a desperate edge to his words. "Please, just let me have you, one last time. If you're sure—if you really mean it, I'll let you go. But please... just one more time."

A soft, almost mousy, "Okay," left your lips before you could stop yourself, the word barely audible, but it was all he needed.

In an instant, he was on you, his lips crashing against yours, his hands pulling you close, his fingers digging into your waist as he kissed you with a hunger that took your breath away.

Your steps staggered back, your body unsteady as he moved with you, following you, his lips never leaving yours. Your back hit the edge of the table, and he pressed against you, his body warm, his touch insistent, his kiss deepening as his tongue slipped into your mouth, coaxing a soft moan from your throat.

His hands moved to your hips, lifting you slightly as he guided you onto the table, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel the intensity of his need, the way his body pressed against yours, his hands exploring, claiming, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

His fingers were frantic as they pushed up your habit, his touch rough, almost desperate. His lips never left your skin, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone, across your chest.

You could feel his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts, his need evident in every hurried movement, every touch. He kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours, swallowing your soft moans as his hands moved beneath the fabric, lifting it higher, his touch hot against your bare skin.

You gasped when he dropped to his knees before you, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, his hands holding your legs apart. Just as he was about to continue, you panicked slightly, your hands flying to his shoulders, gripping them tightly. "W-Wait," you stuttered, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

Charlie looked up at you, his gaze questioning, his breath hot against your thighs. His eyes were dark, filled with desire, and his lips were parted, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

You swallowed, licking your lips nervously as you avoided his gaze, your fingers still gripping his shoulders. "I... you always... I mean, you always... please me with your mouth," you stammered, your face growing hot, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I was wondering if... if I could... return the favor?"

Your words were awkward, your innocence clear in the way you spoke, the way your eyes flickered everywhere but at him. You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself, your voice going quiet. "I mean... if you want, Father..." You finally forced yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes wide, nervous, and hopeful.

For a moment, there was silence between the two of you, the air thick with tension. You began to worry that you had said something wrong, that you had crossed some line, but then Charlie let out a low groan, his hands tightening on your thighs, his head dropping against them. He muttered something, his voice muffled, and you barely caught the words, "Are you truly an angel, or a devil sent to test me?"

He stood slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs as he rose, his eyes never leaving yours. When he reached you, he cupped your face, pulling you into a deep, lingering kiss. His lips moved slowly against yours, his tongue teasing, tasting, and when he finally pulled away, he left a soft peck against your lips. His eyes were softer now, the intensity replaced with something gentler, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip, his touch tender.

Then, his expression shifted, his eyes darkening, a low, commanding tone entering his voice as he spoke. "Get on your knees," he said, his voice almost a growl.

You felt a shiver run through you, your body reacting instinctively to his words. You stared up at him, your heart pounding, your pulse quickening as you saw the way his eyes had darkened, the hunger there almost overwhelming. His breathing was shallow, his gaze so intense it made your knees weak.

Slowly, you moved, slipping off the table, your feet touching the ground as you lowered yourself to your knees before him. You didn't break eye contact as you descended, your gaze locked on his, the intensity of the moment making your heart pound.

There was something electric in the air, something that made your skin tingle, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

Father Charlie's eyes were dark, his gaze fixed on you, his lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling as he watched you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between you almost unbearable.

You knelt there, looking up at him, your hands resting on your thighs, waiting, anticipating.

Slowly, Charlie's hands moved beneath his robes, the rustling of fabric almost deafening in the silence of the room. You heard the soft clink of his belt buckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes widened slightly, your breath catching in your throat as you watched him, expecting him to pull his robes up and over his waist, but instead, he began slipping off the entire robe, his movements slow, deliberate.

Your gaze was drawn to his chest as the robe slid off his shoulders, revealing smooth, tanned skin, the muscles beneath rippling with each movement. He pulled the robe over his head, his arms flexing, the fabric falling to the floor behind him.

Your eyes trailed down his body, taking in every inch of him—the broadness of his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell, the dark hair that started at his navel and led downward, disappearing beneath the waistband of his unbuckled trousers.

There was a dark line of hair, a happy trail that made your breathing stutter, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Charlie's eyes never left yours as he reached down, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch gentle, almost affectionate. His thumb caressed the bottom of your face before his hand shifted, his fingers gently squeezing your cheeks until your lips puckered slightly. His eyes darkened, his lips curling into a faint smile.

"Pull it out," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. He dropped his hand away, his gaze heavy as he watched you.

With shaking hands, you reached up, your fingers trembling as they found the button of his trousers. You fumbled for a moment, your breath shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

You unbuttoned his trousers, your fingers brushing against the zipper, pulling it down slowly, the sound loud in the quiet room. You tugged the fabric down his hips, the trousers falling to his ankles.

Your eyes widened as you saw the large bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers, the outline of him clear, the sight making your breath hitch. Slowly, you reached forward, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down, your gaze fixed on him.

His length sprang free, bobbing slightly before settling against his thigh. You couldn't help but stare, taking him in. The veins along his length stood out, thick and prominent, the head flushed a deep pink, glistening slightly.

You swallowed hard, your eyes tracing every inch of him, the reality of it sinking in. He was bigger than you remembered, the sheer size of him making your breath catch, your heart pounding even harder.

That... that was inside me...

Your cheeks flushed at the memory, the thought of it making your thighs press together, heat pooling in your belly.

"Sister," Charlie's voice broke through your thoughts, his tone soft but commanding. Your eyes snapped up, meeting his gaze, his dark eyes watching you intently. There was something in his expression, a mixture of desire and tenderness that made your breath catch. "Give me your hand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated for only a moment before you extended your hand to him, your fingers trembling slightly. He took it gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, and you watched as his other hand moved down his chest, his fingers gliding over his smooth skin, tracing the lines of his muscles before finally wrapping around his length.

He let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling as he began to stroke himself, his thumb rubbing over the sensitive tip. His eyes never left yours, watching your reaction, his lips parted as he sucked in a breath, a shudder running through his body.

The sight made your mouth go dry, your eyes widening as you watched him, unable to look away. After a few seconds, he shuddered your name, his voice rough, needy. "Touch me," he panted, his eyes half-lidded, his gaze filled with desire.

You allowed him to guide your hand, wrapping your fingers around him, his own hand covering yours, his grip firm. A low, broken moan left his lips at the contact, his head tilting back slightly, his eyes closing for a moment.

You could feel the warmth of him, the way he twitched in your hand, the weight of him almost overwhelming.

Sitting up on your knees, you moved closer, your other hand resting on his strong thigh to steady yourself. Your thumb unconsciously brushed against his leg, the muscles tensing beneath your touch as you focused on holding him in your hand.

You looked up at him, your eyes questioning, unsure of what to do next. Charlie's gaze dropped to meet yours, his thumb reaching out to pull down your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he dipped it into your mouth for a brief moment. He let out a soft sigh, his voice almost a whisper. "Open wider," he instructed, his eyes fixed on you. "Drop your tongue, just like you're about to eat a popsicle."

You followed his instructions, your jaw dropping open, your tongue hanging out slightly, your eyes still locked on his. He hummed in approval, guiding your hand up, moving his length towards your awaiting tongue.

The tip of him brushed against your tongue, the taste salty, musky, as he rubbed the head across the surface, letting out an appreciative hum. He did this for a few seconds, his eyes watching every reaction you made, his lips curling into a small smile.

Slowly, he pushed himself further into your mouth, just an inch or two, his breath hitching as he watched you. "Close your lips around it," he murmured, his voice strained. "Suck."

You closed your mouth around him, your lips sealing around the head of his length, your tongue pressing against the underside. He let out a deep groan, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you in place. "Just like that," he whispered, his voice thick hoarse. "That's it... good girl."

You began to suck gently, your cheeks hollowing as you moved your head slightly, taking him in just a bit more. The taste of him filled your mouth, salty and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant.

His hips jerked slightly, a low moan escaping his lips as he watched you, his eyes dark, filled with lust. He guided you slowly, his hand on the back of your head setting the pace, his breathing growing more ragged with each passing moment.

"Use your tongue," he panted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Swirl it around the tip... yes, just like that." You did as he instructed, your tongue moving over the sensitive head, and he shuddered, his grip on your hair tightening, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. "God, you have no idea what you do to me," he muttered, his voice strained, his eyes locked on yours.

You continued to move, your hand stroking the base of him as you sucked, your other hand still resting on his thigh, your thumb brushing against his skin in a soothing motion.

His breaths came in short gasps, his chest heaving as he watched you, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted. He whispered your name, his voice filled with need, his hips rocking slightly, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

"You're perfect," he groaned, his head tilting back, his eyes closing as he lost himself in the sensation. "So good... just like that. Don't stop." His words were slurred, his voice thick with pleasure, and you could feel him throbbing in your mouth, the taste of him growing stronger as he neared his peak.

His hips began to move more, his breathing turning into short, desperate gasps, his hand guiding you, holding you in place as he chased his release. He muttered your name, his voice breaking, a mixture of moans and whispered praises filling the room as he lost himself to the pleasure.

When he finally came, the taste of him filled your mouth, his hips jerking, a deep groan escaping his lips as he held you there, his fingers tangled in your hair. He panted heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked down at you, his eyes dark, filled with something raw, something possessive.

Charlie reached down, his hand wrapping around your arm, pulling you up from your knees with a strength that left you breathless. He yanked you into a kiss, his lips crashing against yours, his tongue licking into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue.

He groaned against your lips, his hand moving to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devoured you, his kiss deep, consuming. His tongue moved against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he pulled back slightly, licking across your lips before placing a softer, lingering kiss there.

He pulled away, his eyes locking onto yours, a small, satisfied smile on his lips. Without a word, he lifted you, settling you back onto the table, his hands pushing up your habit, his gaze dropping between your legs as he knelt before you once again. "I need to prep you," he murmured, his voice husky, his hands sliding up your thighs.

His fingers reached between your legs, expecting to find the fabric of your underwear, but instead, they came in contact with your soaked folds. He let out a surprised sound, his eyes shooting up to meet yours, a brow raised in question. You released a huff, your cheeks flushing as you looked away, muttering, "It's laundry day..."

Charlie let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly, his lips curling into an amused smile. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your knee before his hands moved to push your thighs further apart, the stretch making your muscles burn slightly, the sensation both uncomfortable and thrilling. He held your legs open, his eyes fixed on you, watching your every reaction.

Before you knew it, his mouth was on you, his lips pressing against your sensitive flesh, a silent gasp falling from your lips, your eyes closing, your head falling back as your back arched off the table.

The feeling of his tongue moving against you, licking, sucking, made your thighs tremble in his hold, your fingers gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white.

He worshipped you with his mouth, his tongue moving with purpose, teasing your entrance, his lips closing around your clit, sucking gently.

One of his hands moved up, his fingers brushing against your entrance before slowly pushing inside, stretching you, his mouth never stopping, never hesitating. He worked you with a skill that left you breathless, every flick of his tongue, every gentle thrust of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your orgasm built slowly, a steady climb that made your whole body tense, every nerve ending alive with sensation. Charlie seemed to know exactly where to touch, where to kiss, how to move his fingers to bring you to the brink, his name falling from your lips in a breathless whisper, your body trembling, your thighs shaking around his head.

But just as you were about to fall over the edge, just as the pleasure was about to consume you, he pulled away.

A frustrated whine escaped your lips, your eyes opening, a mixture of confusion and need in your gaze as you looked down at him. He stood slowly, his eyes dark, a small smirk playing on his lips as he watched you, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your body aching for release.

Charlie licked his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached up, his fingers tilting your head back, exposing the line of your neck to him. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss just below your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. His other hand moved to wrap one of your legs around his waist, his fingers digging into your thigh as he held you against him, his body pressed tightly to yours.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Don't worry, Sister," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'll fill you back up and give you what you need." The words sent a shiver down your spine, your core clenching at the promise, a whimper escaping your lips.

Charlie reached between your bodies, his hand wrapping around his length, positioning himself. He rubbed the tip against your clit, the sensation making your body jerk, a gasp falling from your lips.

He moved slowly, dragging the head of his length up and down your slit, teasing you, your body trembling in his arms, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

Then, without warning, he pushed forward, bullying his way into you, the stretch almost unbearable.

You arched further into his arms, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, your body struggling to accommodate him. He let out a deep groan, his fingers tightening on your thigh, his other hand moving to grip your hip, holding you in place as he filled you completely.

His pace was brutal, each stroke long and deep, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, his hips slamming against yours. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, his voice low, rough, filled with need. "You... You feel so good... so tight around me," he panted, his words broken by soft moans. "I'm going to fuck you, fill you up until you can't think of anything else."

His hips snapped against yours, his movements rough, desperate, his body pressing you down against the table, his weight holding you in place. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Imagine it, Sister," he whispered, his voice dark, almost a growl. "A secret child... a product of our sin, of our blasphemy against the church." His words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your core clenching around him, your body reacting to the forbidden promise, the thought of it pushing you closer to the edge.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body tensing, your back arching as the pleasure consumed you, a silent scream on your lips. You could feel Charlie shudder above you, his thrusts growing erratic, his breath coming in short gasps as he chased his own release.

After a few more brutal strokes, he let out a deep groan, his hips pressing against yours as he came, his body tensing, his fingers digging into your skin.

He stayed there, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath hot against your neck as he tried to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. You could feel his heart pounding against your own, the room filled with the sound of your ragged breathing, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

You shivered as he began to pull back, the movement making you wince slightly, your body still sensitive from the intense pleasure.

His softening length slipped out of you, the feeling making you gasp softly, a mix of relief and emptiness settling in your chest. You felt the warm, sticky sensation as globs of his cum poured out, slowly dripping down your inner thighs.

You began to close your legs, thinking he was done, that he would put his clothes back on, but his hand stopped you, his fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, keeping you open.

Charlie lowered himself to his knees once again, his eyes fixed on you, a dark hunger still present in his gaze. Before you could understand what was happening, his mouth was on you, his lips pressing against your sensitive folds.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you felt his tongue, warm and wet, sliding through your slickness, lapping up the mixture of your release and his own. His groans were sinful, vibrating against you, his eyes fluttering closed as if savoring the taste.

Your brain raced, unsure of what to do or what to say, your body twitching beneath his touch, your legs instinctively trying to close, still overly sensitive from your previous climax. But Charlie's hands were strong, his grip firm as he held your thighs apart, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you open for him.

He was relentless, his tongue moving with purpose, his lips closing around your swollen clit, sucking gently, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

Your breaths came in short, desperate gasps, your fingers gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles white. You could feel the pleasure building again, a slow, steady climb that made your whole body tense, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

You couldn't hold back the soft whimpers and moans that spilled from your lips, your head falling back, your eyes closing as the pleasure consumed you.

When you came, it hit you like a final, blinding wave, your body arching off the table, your thighs trembling in Charlie's hold. A broken cry escaped your lips, your back arching, your eyes squeezed shut.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Your mind was clouded as the pleasure consumed you, the feeling like the flames of damnation licking at your skin. For I am burned by the fire of desire, a sinner in the eyes of heaven.

And you weren't sure if you minded at all.

A/N: ya know, i think my smut has gotten better, what do you guys think??? and to answer the upcoming question(s) i know will be asked: yes, this is the final part, i won't be continuing the 'Devotion' series/making it into a book 😔 i know, i know. i promise i want too, but knowing me, i tend to bounce around/start new projects out of nowhere, so if i didn't spend weeks planning before hand, it'll grow cold eventually, and i don't wanna put you guys through that 😩 but never fret, i will continue writing for father charlie 😝, he's just too versatile not to. see you guys soon ❤️❤️❤️.

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rafesweetie · 15 days ago

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. ۫ ꣑ৎ . drew starkey and the sweetie who interviewed him

you’re nothing — that’s what you always tell yourself, anyway. you’re a journalist at a small magazine company, all potential and questions wasted because you’re relatively shy and big names like vogue tend to hire the louder workers.

it was a shock to you when your editor landed you an interview spot at TIFF. she believed in you, wanted to give you an opportunity to chat with some big names.

walking into the room where the stars would be interviewed by all the big names, you’re accompanied by one photographer who brought his camera to film the interviews. your pink heels click on the ground as you walk, and you feel severly underdressed in a black mini slip dress, with your hair down.

you’re handed the less popular movie stars to interview, but you’re nervous nonetheless. face going red when you stumble during a long question (even if they’re extremely intellectual), and fiddling with your nails while you listen.

you’re assuming everyone you interview is lesser known, based on the pattern occuring, until a very familiar figure walks over. right, you almost forgot you had to interview him.

now, it’s not like you knew him personally. you were both from north carolina and you have a two mutuals on instagram, but you and him weren’t friends. the only reason you know him is because you’d be living under a rock if you didn’t — drew starkey.

you can’t help the way you’re shaking a bit, flustered, nervous, and excited all at once.

“hi, y/n l/n,” you greet, then tell him what magazine you’re from. you shake his hand.

“drew starkey,” his voice is deep and makes you shiver. you’d heard from almost everyone how captivating he is, and now you believe it.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you say gently. his baby blues haven’t left yours yet. “i just watched ‘queer’ last night, drew, it was amazing,” you tell him, easing your way into the interview. “what was it like filming around the world? have you ever done that before?”

“uh, yeah, i have,” he nods. “i went to vancouver to film ‘the other zoey’, i think, and i went to serbia for ‘hellraiser.’ but i mean, i feel like for ‘queer’, it was more of an experience. we filmed everywhere, multiple continents, it was kind of crazy. and i mean, i’m a country boy, north carolina, so experiencing cultures outside of traditional america will always wow me,” he explains. “where are you from?”

you smile when he flips it on you because he’s very polite. “i live in north carolina too.” you tell him.

“no shit,” he smiles. “what part?”

“charlotte. i mean, i’m not orignally from there, but it’s where i live now so…” you shrug.

“where are you originally from?”

“this isn’t my interview, mr. starkey,” you smile at him. he chuckles. “can i ask another question please?”

“yes ma’am,” he relents, and you giggle. his smile grows when you giggle — his eyes haven’t left you.

you ask a couple more questions, and eventually he has to leave to go talk to another journalist. but he grabs your hand again and squeezes it, intense eye contact as he says it was nice to meet you, and to have a nice night. you’re already in a trance, even though you try to convince yourself that he was just being polite. he’s polite to everyone.

when he leaves, you can’t help but turn to the photographer with a smile on your face and your jaw dropped, simply because that was the biggest name you’ve ever spoken to. you’re unaware he never stopped the video.

────୨ৎ────

the morning after, when reporters are posting their interviews everywhere, you can’t go three scrolls on tiktok without drew’s face at TIFF appearing. you’re half-asleep, until it clicks that every interview you’ve seen has been specifically your interview with him. captioned with, ‘how to be this interviewer???’ or ‘the way he looks at her?’ or ‘someone tell her hes taken by me already’, or even ‘he looks a little young for her?’ you’ve gone viral. everyone believes that the drew starkey is into you.

you’re down a rabbit hole. the slo mo videos on him glancing at your lips, then licking his own, the way he squeezed your hand, you and him both giggling. you can’t deny how it might look either.

you go onto drew’s instagram. he doesn’t follow you, and you’re a bit nervous to initiate. so you close your eyes, bracing yourself, before hitting follow. an hour later, he follows you back. you open the app — one new message.

[Drew Starkey] : Hey it’s the cute interviewer from yesterday! How are you?

you could’ve sworn that your lungs gave out right there.

#౨ৎ isa writes #౨ৎ sweetie!reader #⋆˚࿔ drew 𝜗𝜚˚⋆#the drew debut!!!!!!#not proofread #drew x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey obx #outer banks #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x journalist!reader

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hsnlv · 1 month ago

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jake! is the type to…

pairing: boyfriend!jake x fem!reader

warnings/others: fluff!!, there’s also smut so scroll if uncomfortable!!

a/n: hi, im back (not really lol) but ive been really busy with college lately so i dont really have time to update :( but i hope you’ll enjoy this💗 reblogs and comments are highly appreciated🎀 here’s my masterlist!

jake! is the type to lie to you for no reason at all because he always craves for your attention and he loves being babied :(

“baby, i swear it hurts!” his pout deepens as you roll your eyes for the umpteenth time now, his fingers playing with his bottom lip.

ridiculous, really. he told you that he fell down the floor and his lips hit the floor or something and he needs a kiss from you.

“jake, you’re fine,” you deadpan, crossing your arms.

“i’m not fine!” he whines dramatically, leaning closer. “my lip is throbbing, throbbing, and you don’t even care…”

his exaggerated sulking makes you stifle a laugh, but you shake your head. “you’re unbelievable.”

“you don’t love me,” he mumbles under his breath, flopping back on the couch with a dramatic sigh. “my lip is falling off, and you won’t even give me one tiny kiss to save me.”

your resolve falters at his pitiful expression, his big, pleading eyes locked on yours. with a sigh, you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his bottom lip.

“better now?” you ask softly.

he grins instantly, his arms sneaking around your waist. “so much better. but… maybe one more?”

jake! is the type to always appreciate the little gifts you make though they are stupid sometimes. his mama raised him too well!

“here,” you say, holding out a small keychain you made. It’s uneven, the beads don’t quite match, and the tiny heart you drew on it is smudged—but you couldn’t help yourself.

jake takes it with a gasp, his eyes lighting up as if you’d just handed him the most precious treasure in the world. “you made this for me?”

“yeah, but it’s kind of ugly, isn’t it?” you mumble, suddenly shy.

“are you kidding?” he exclaims, turning it over in his hands like it’s priceless. “this is perfect. look at the little heart! and you picked my favorite color for the beads! baby, this is amazing.”

you laugh, watching as he immediately clips it onto his bag. “you don’t have to use it, you know.”

“of course I’m using it!” he says, beaming. “every time I see it, I’ll think of you. it’s my new good luck charm.”

he leans over to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “you’re the best, you know that?”

jake! is the type to get jealous over the smallest things too because he’s a big baby who wants your attention for him and himself only!!! :(

“you were laughing a lot back there,” jake mutters, slumping onto the couch with a pout.

you glance at him, confused. “what are you talking about?”

“with him,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. “you looked so happy. giggling and all…”

“him?” you blink, wracking your brain. “jake, what are you—wait.” your eyes land on layla, his fluffy golden retriever, sprawled happily on the floor after you’d been showering her with belly rubs and baby talk for the past ten minutes. “are you jealous of your dog?”

he flushes instantly but doesn’t back down, his pout deepening. “you were giving her so much attention. i’m right here, and all I got was a ‘hi, babe.’”

“jake…” you laugh, sitting beside him. “are you serious right now?”

“yes! you even said she was the cutest thing ever. what about me?” he huffs, looking every bit like a sulky child.

“you’re ridiculous,” you tease, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “you’ll always be my cutest, okay?”

his frown melts into a satisfied grin, and he pulls you closer. “good. but no more calling Layla ‘cutie.’ that’s my title.”

jake! is the type to always joke around a lot but he knows tooooo well how to comfort you with his words and gestures whenever you’re in doubt of yourself <3

“why do you even put up with me?” you mumble, staring down at your hands as doubt creeps into your chest. “i’m not… i don’t think i’m enough sometimes.”

the room grows quiet for a moment—so quiet you almost wish he’d crack one of his usual jokes to lighten the mood. but instead, jake kneels in front of you, gently taking your hands in his.

“hey,” he says softly, tilting his head to meet your gaze. his eyes hold none of his usual teasing—just warmth and sincerity. “where’s all this coming from, baby?”

you hesitate, shrugging. “i don’t know… i just feel like I’m not doing enough. or being enough.”

his hands tighten around yours, and he shakes his head. “don’t say that. you’re more than enough, okay? you’re everything. you’re smart, you’re kind, and you make every single day better just by being you.”

you sniffle, feeling tears well up, but jake smiles, leaning closer. “besides, if you weren’t perfect, how could you have me wrapped around your finger like this, huh?”

you laugh through the tears, and he grins, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “there’s that smile.” he slowly lays you down on the bed, his hands caressing your waist delicately. “now, how about i remind you of how perfect you are?”

jake! is the type to be the sweetest in bed!! always whispering sweet things to you while he’s fucking you so delicately as if you’re a glass that can break anytime soon.

“you’re perfect,” he whispers, his forehead pressed gently against yours, his breath warm on your skin. his hands move over you like he’s memorizing every curve, every inch, as though you’re something sacred.

“i love you,” he murmurs, his voice soft but heavy with emotion, his lips brushing against yours in fleeting, delicate kisses. his movements are slow, careful, as if you’re made of glass—fragile and precious, something he wants to protect and cherish. but god, does he know how to make you feel so fucking good.

“does it feel good, baby?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, his eyes searching yours while his hips are moving with a steady pace. his cock is moving in and out of your sweet little cunt, making him biting his lips hard to make sure he doesn’t cum too soon from how fucking good you feel around him. “hm? my sweet girl deserves to feel good, yeah? fuck—”

his hands hold you firmly yet tenderly, pulling you closer, keeping you grounded in him. “look at me,” he says softly, his thumb brushing your cheek as he gazes at you like you’re his whole world. “there’s no one else, nothing else—just you. you’re everything to me.”

he hisses at the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around his cock. it feels as if you were made for him and him only. the way he fits so perfectly in you, the way he never gets bored of the feeling of you around him, both cunt and mouth wise. the way your moan sounds so good in his ears that it can seriously be his lullaby to put him to sleep. the way he can practically see heaven whenever he’s fucking you.

“doing so good for me, yeah?” he cooes, brushing the strands of hair that sticks on your forehead. fuck! he swears he can cum only by the sight of you panting and squirming underneath him. the feeling of his tip constantly abusing your sweet spot in the most delicious way ever makes you let out a small whimper alongside with a soft ‘jakey…’, making him groan against your neck as he breathes in your sweet sweet scent.

“atta girl. come for me, baby. you look so fucking pretty like this…” the feeling of his warm release coats your wall, his breathing heavy and hard, his grip on your thighs are firm as he tries to ground himself hard.

with him, it’s more than physical—it’s a connection, a reminder that you are seen, loved, and treasured completely.

“my sweet girl deserves one more, yeah?” he says before he starts to move again, his cock twitching.

jake! is the type to pamper you with small kisses, caresses and praises for aftercare, making sure you will always feel loved— before, during and after your intimate moments together!

“how’re you feeling, baby?” he whispers, his voice tender as his fingers gently comb through your hair. he cradles you close, like you’re the most precious thing in the world, his warmth wrapping around you like a safety net.

before you can even answer, his lips find your forehead, lingering there for a moment before planting a trail of tiny kisses along your temple, your cheeks, your nose, and finally the corner of your mouth. “did so well for me,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice so soft it makes your heart ache. “so good, so pretty, hm?”

he pulls the blanket over both of you, tucking you in snugly while his hands wander your back in the gentlest strokes. “you’re perfect, baby. so perfect,” he says, his tone full of awe as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. “i don’t think i’ll ever stop being in love with you.”

he grabs a water bottle and holds it up to your lips, grinning when you take a sip. “good girl,” he says softly, pressing another kiss to your hair.

and just when you think he’s done, he starts whispering sweet nothings, his lips brushing against your ear. “thank you for trusting me. thank you for being mine. i’ll never stop taking care of you, okay?”

his kisses and praises don’t stop, his hands constantly finding yours to lace your fingers together, his every word reminding you how loved you are.

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