lovelycorallight

[lovelycorallight]

YELLOWJACKETS (2021–)

[lovelycorallight]

my eyes are up here- fem!reader x gideon gemstone

warnings: smut, p-in-v, semi-voyeurism, no contraception mentioned, minors dni 18+

Gideon wasn’t proud of it. He was definitely not proud of the way his eyes kept drifting from the lyrics on the screen to the shape of your chest beneath your Sunday best.

You were in the second row, swaying to the music, arms lifted, eyes shut in worship and completely unaware that a Gemstone boy several spaces over was gripping the edge of the seat in front of him like it might anchor him to the ground.

You wore a modest blouse. Nothing revealing. No cleavage, no curve-hugging silhouette. But it didn’t matter. Not to him. That blouse stretched in just the right way when you lifted your arms. It clung ever-so-slightly to the lines of your body when you sang.

Gideon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, legs spread wide, one arm slung across the back of the pew like he wasn’t doing his best not to pop a boner in church. He’d come to service early. Hadn't even meant to sit where he could see you so clearly. But now, he couldn't look away.

You were radiant. Glowing with something holy. And it made him feel dirty as hell.

He dipped his head, pretending to pray, jaw tight as he whispered something that was almost a plea for forgiveness, but mostly just a low, frustrated groan.

“Fuck,” he muttered, too quiet for anyone to hear, eyes flicking up once more.

You were looking at him.

Gideon swallowed hard.

Jesus Christ.

He was so going to hell.

He shifted again, adjusting his posture like it might hide the growing tension in his pants, but it was no use. Your attention had him burning up. And you weren’t even pretending anymore. You swayed your hips slightly with the rhythm, your hands smoothing down the front of your skirt in a way that had his breath catching in his throat.

After the service, he tried to be good. Truly. He said his goodbyes, shook hands, kept his eyes anywhere but your chest. But when you passed him in the hallway outside the sanctuary. Alone now, your eyes glinting with mischief, he snapped.

“Bathroom,” you murmured under your breath, not looking at him. “Give me sixty seconds.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

By the time he slipped into the single-occupancy restroom at the end of the hall, you were already waiting. Leaning against the counter. Lip gloss a little smudged. That same sly, knowing look in your eyes.

“You couldn’t stop staring,” you said, voice low, sultry, pleased.

“I tried,” Gideon rasped, already reaching for you. “God, I tried.”

Your laugh was breathy as he kissed you. It was hard, hungry, his hands everywhere at once. One hand gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, while the other slid beneath the hem of your skirt without hesitation.

"You're disgusting," you whispered against his lips, "getting hard during worship?"

"You're the one who was swaying your hips like that," he shot back, grinding against your thigh. "You did it on purpose."

"You liked it."

He groaned, nearly dizzy with how much he did.

Your back hit the counter. His mouth trailed hot, desperate kisses down your throat. Fingers slipping beneath your underwear like he’d die if he didn’t touch you now, right now. His breath was ragged. His voice gravel.

“You’re so fuckin’ bad for me,” he whispered.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that during service, and I swear, I’ll bend you over a damn pew next time.”

You smirked. “Promise?”

His hands were under your skirt again, yanking your underwear down your thighs with a growl. You barely had time to step out of them before he spun you around, pressing your front against the counter. His hands gripped your hips, thumbs digging in possessively as he nudged your legs apart with his knee. The tension in the air was thick, pulsing. His lips brushed your neck, open-mouthed and hungry, trailing along your skin as he exhaled hard through his nose, the sound almost like a growl of restraint.

“You got no business lookin’ that good,” he muttered against your ear, voice rough with restraint. “Wearin’ that little top and lookin’ at me like you wanted me to lose it.”

“I did,” you said breathlessly, bracing your hands on the counter. “I wanted you to snap.”

He dragged a hand up your spine, slow and reverent despite the frantic way he tugged his belt loose with the other. You met his eyes in the mirror, dark, greedy, completely undone.

“Then congratulations,” he said, lining himself up behind you. “You got your wish.”

The smirk he always wore was gone, replaced by something raw. His eyes dropped with need. You weren’t sure which one of you was trembling more. His chest rose and fell in shallow bursts behind you, knuckles brushing your thighs as he reached for you again. But still, his eyes never left yours in the reflection.

It was the kind of look that said mine, without ever needing to speak. The kind of look that made the rest of the room blur around the edges. The counter. The cool tile. The way your knees wobbled. None of it mattered as much as the gravity between you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost to himself, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Like the sight of you undone for him was enough to bring him to his knees.

And then he was inside you. Deep, hard, and sudden.

You gasped, biting your lip to muffle the sound. The stretch was intense, nearly overwhelming in the cramped, quiet bathroom, but you arched into it, letting him take what he needed. His fingers bruised your hips. His breath was hot against the back of your neck.

“You make me crazy,” he groaned, snapping his hips forward again. “Comin’ to church lookin’ like that. Makin’ me stare. You wanted me thinkin’ about you instead of the sermon, huh?”

His hand slid from your hip to your chin, not squeezing, just holding. Holding you still. Holding you there. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw, tilting your head just enough to make your eyes meet his in the mirror again.

You whimpered, nodding. Truthfully, you were barely coherent.

“Say it,” he demanded.

“I wanted you to,” you gasped. “Wanted you to think about me. About how wet I was. How I’d let you fuck me right there in the pew if you asked.”

His hand clamped over your mouth, stifling the broken moan that escaped you. He leaned in closer, lips at your ear.

“Gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he growled. “Don’t want the whole congregation knowin’ how filthy you are, do you?”

Your body trembled as he drove into you harder, each thrust punching out little sounds from your throat, muffled by his hand. Your knees nearly buckled, but he held you steady, the rhythm relentless and punishing.

“Jesus,” he hissed, losing control. “You feel too good. So tight. So fuckin’ perfect.”

It didn’t take long. Not when the tension had been building since the second worship started. Not when every word he whispered pushed you closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” he said, breath ragged. “I know you’re close. Don’t hold back. Just let go.”

You came hard, the orgasm crashing over you like a wave. You dig your fingers into the counter. Soft, quiet gasps fell from your lips. It’s sharp, hot, and overwhelming. Gideon followed moments later with a low groan, burying himself deep and holding you there as he spilled inside you.

You stayed like that for a few seconds, panting, shaking, the only sounds your uneven breathing and the faint hum of the air vent overhead. Your legs felt unsteady beneath you, trembling with the aftershocks. The counter bit into your palms where your fingers still gripped the edge, knuckles white, body flushed and sensitive. Gideon leaned over you, chest heaving against your back, one arm wrapped tight around your waist like he needed to hold you there.

His nose brushed your shoulder, then the shell of your ear, lips parting like he wanted to say something. For a long moment, neither of you moved. The buzz of the air vent, the soft patter of your breathing, and the thud of his heartbeat against your spine filled the silence.

Then, slowly, he eased out of you with a hiss through his teeth, hands gentling on your hips like an apology. You whimpered at the loss, at the sensitivity, at the sudden cool air licking against the heat between your thighs. He crouched behind you without a word, grabbing a handful of paper towels from the dispenser.

“Hold on,” he murmured, voice low, hoarse, still wrecked. Careful now. Attentive as he wiped up his mess.

His hands ran over your clothes, smoothing out every wrinkle with a tenderness that felt almost out of place after how rough he'd just had you. Something was grounding in it, though, something sweet in the way he tucked your shirt back into place like it mattered. Like you mattered.

He crouched again, gathering your underwear from where they’d been discarded, and helped you step into them. His fingertips brushed your calves, then glided up your thighs as he slid the fabric back into place, slow and careful, like he was savoring every second. A smirk broke onto his lips as he gave them a playful snap. When they were snug against your hips again, he gave the outside of your thigh two light pats, almost playful.

“Guess I’ll have to pray extra hard after that,” he murmured, still catching his breath.

You smirked. “You’re gonna need it.”

You took a steadying breath as you adjusted your skirt, trying to smooth your hair and calm the pounding in your chest. Your legs still trembled, your pulse echoing between your thighs, but you managed to fix your lipstick just enough to fake composure.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the hallway was bright and humming with post-worship energy. Gideon was already there, somehow collected. He had his shirt straightened, sleeves rolled, collar crisp. The only giveaway was the flush still clinging to his neck and the faint shake in his hands as he reached to shake someone else's.

You stood to the side, pretending to check your phone, trying to ignore the slick heat between your thighs or how the air felt too cold against your skin now. Your panties were still crumpled in your purse.

Gideon glanced at you, just once. Barely a flick of his eyes.

But the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth made your stomach flip.

“Feelin’ alright, sweetheart?” he asked casually, eyes locked on yours now, voice low enough that only you could hear. “You look a little… flushed.”

You swallowed hard, heart stuttering.

“Must be the spirit,” you replied dryly.

His smirk widened, but he didn’t say anything else. Just turned to greet another family with a grin, one hand settling innocently in his pocket, like it hadn’t just been gripping your hips a few minutes ago.

And you stood there, feeling him everywhere. Throbbing. A mess beneath your clothes. And somehow… still wanting more.

[lovelycorallight]

hecate

[lovelycorallight]

helping hands

ship: gideon gemstone x f!reader tags: smut, handjobs, established relationship, maybe some very light sacrilege wordcount: 1.1k notes: i finally watched trg and somehow his prodigal son ways and dirt bike tricks have charmed me. my first fic in a hot min... dusting off the rust with some church smut.

Sometimes, she really loved the church. 

More specifically, she found herself growing fond of how absolutely massive it was. Usually, it felt like an endless maze, a constant parade of people she didn’t recognize and hallways that genuinely seemed to lead to nowhere. A dozen empty rooms that held unopened books or unused gifts, far too big to ever really become familiar with. It was imposing in a way, like navigating a brand new puzzle every time she walked through in the doors. 

Gideon liked to say even he got lost sometimes, but that always felt like a courteous lie, made up  once again to make her feel better about taking the same wrong turn for the third day that week. He never actually stumbled when he walked the halls; truthfully, he could name every half-empty library and coffee kiosk that sprung up. And he knew the names of every single employee that waved back at them with a bright smile, offering good morning, Mr. Gemstone in perfect unison, like they’d spent the morning rehearsing just for this.

(He always met the greeting with one of those sloping smiles, the kind that said he didn’t really like what was happening, but it seemed too much of a hassle to make it stop. Way too polite, even for the stained glass windows and the carved doors he lead them through. 

And if she muttered Mr. Gemstone right into his ear, it only ever got an eye roll, or maybe a little shove against her hip, just to knock her off balance. Maybe a quick squeeze of her hand, nails digging sharp into her palm just before he let go.) 

But her favorite rooms, the very best ones in the whole building, tended to hang right off the forgotten libraries and the half-empty corridors. The ones with slim doors and low watt bulbs, a handful of unused brooms shoved deep in the corner. Or maybe a stack of ancient pamphlets, print years dating back before either of them were born. Those kinds of rooms always stood open and empty, constantly available for a pre-service pep talk away from prying eyes. 

Of course, this more than likely became a quick pre-service make out. Maybe even a brief pass over the clothes, sweaty fingers palming against her ass as they bunched the hem of her skirt higher.Or maybe, if they were both incredibly quick and miraculously quiet, and if she was eager to see the way his eyes rolled up to the sky when he muttered her name in that ragged kinda voice, just a little bit more. An extra special sort of pep talk.

Last time he’d been embarrassed, bright red even before she reached for his belt. But the experience must have changed some minds, because Gideon only huffed when she tugged on his zipper, the corners of his mouth struggling to stay down. 

“You don’t have to,” he murmured, and even that was half-hearted. “C’mon, I’m… I’m just-“

She never found out. As soon as she brushed his cock, one finger running soft down the side. his teeth bit down roughly on his bottom lip.

“You’re what?” She teased, but there was barely a hum in response. Just his gaze flicking down between them, eyes falling shut when she wrapped a hand tight around him. 

“I don’t know why you’re so nervous,” she offered. “You’ll do great. You’re always great.”

(Not really, not always, but it felt a little mean to bring that up right now. Gideon got too in his head about it all anyway, and then he’d start stumbling over words and mixing up his points. He was harder to put back together than to keep in one piece.)

“I’m not...Nervous,” he mumbled. “That’s- I’m not nervous.”

She could feel him jump in her hand with the slightest touch, a gentle squeeze and a slow slide down to the base, before he leaned close enough to bump her cheek with his nose. 

“Okay, sure. You’re a bad liar, but sure.”

At least that earned a smile, his mouth pressing right below her ear when she repeated the action. Slow and steady, until the rhythm almost felt too much like teasing, and she gave a quick swirl across the tip, thumb already slick as she let it slide back down. 

“Fuck, that’s-“

“Shhh!” She tried to cut off him with a kiss, but the word still seemed to finish in a moan. It echoed even in her mouth, vibrating when she slid his lips open, another futile attempt at keeping quiet. “Too loud.”

He nodded, yet the following groan managed to sound even noisier in the cramped space. “Oh, god-“

At least that one could blend in a little better. 

“I’m serious, you gotta be quiet-“

“Sorry,” he mumbled, lips wet when they slid across her cheek, barely leaving a spotty, apologetic kiss. “Sorry, sorry.”

Even in the dark he looked flushed pink, color spreading out from the bridge of his nose. A mix of embarrassed and wanting and still whining half under his breath, sweaty fingers sliding down the back of her skirt.

She tried to speed up, if only to end the torture he seemed to be experiencing. He felt close, hands tightening and his body crowding her own, until she could feel the comfortable weight of his chest. Sandwiched between a warm body and the hard concrete behind them, and she didn't think she'd ever felt closer to the church than right in this moment.

“Fuck!"

Now that one had to be noticeable, even down the hall and back through the lobby.

“You’re unbelievable,” she murmured. "Do you ever listen to me?"

He went for another kiss in response, unable to offer much more than his open mouth against hers and a hot breath across her tongue. Sloppy and unpracticed, two things Gideon hated to be. She’d have pointed it out, called him desperate and watched how he blushed even deeper, but his hips jerked up into her hold, and the final curse hissed only into her skin.

It barely took a moment to clean up again; that was the good part about fooling around like teenagers, no mess that couldn't be fixed with a slightly dusty rag or a quick once-over. Back to work in a tight fifteen, like nobody would ever know.

The hallway was empty when they reemerged, a lonely janitor hanging around the corner as they passed by. He offered another good morning, Mr. Gemstone, and if Gideon's answer was a little too quick, or way too loud, they could blame it on the growing rush of footsteps pouring into the lobby.

"For the record, I listen to you all the time," he promised, and the smile seemed far less crooked when he turned back to show it off. "You have some really great ideas."

[lovelycorallight]

rip to this canonically absolute fucking dumbass (picks fights with the deranged butcher, gets dumped for the guy's cousin, is too sexy for this cave, falls into a pit TWICE)

[lovelycorallight]

"But, that Vanessa Palmer charm magnet is just too powerful" bro :( van brought so much joy to the people around her. she was the life of the party.