#it was in a dimly lit church

[ghostssmoke]

Sketch of a dream I had

[rpmemes-galore]

can i ask y'all a huge favor? Could I get a little bit of support? Some kind words? Having a real rough time lately and I could use a little kindness. Some good vibes.

[8lyme]

Play it again ♬

Logan Howlett x reader (unmentioned gender)

♬ Play it again - Luke Bryan

SUMMARY - You've been listening to the radio all night long, and can't believe your song comes on when you're luckily alone with Logan.

a/n - chat ... please be gentle this is a self indulgent one shot based off the sickening obsession i have with this man. i need him biblically. Also, I'm imagining this to this song or Springsteen by Eric Church, but obviously use whatever song ur heart desires unedited ! And lowkey out of character but idc

At the start of summer, the students of the "gifted youngsters" program begged Charles to let them set the grounds up for a small party as a celebration for the end of the school year, despite nearly all of them being permanent X-mansion residents.

You excitedly volunteered to help, sitting in the kitchen concocting a dessert recipe as Scott mixed punch. Within a few hours, the yard was lit with string lights hanging from tree to tree. Fold-out tables with sheets as tablecloths held plates of food and drinks. Closer to the mansion, a large speaker blared music from the radio.

You listened to the music, half listening to the conversation Storm and Charles were having and half trying to hide your sideways glances at Logan, who was very attractively manning the grill. You might've heard a question directed at you but Logan's white t-shirt was tucked into his jeans. The cut of his sleeves stretched against his biceps, one hand on his belt and the other flipping hot dogs with tongs. You wanted him to turn so you could shamelessly stare at his ass in his jeans. You were no better than a man.

"Didn't you bake these cookies?" Charles said, catching your attention. You hoped that was the first time he asked that as you looked down to him.

"Oh, yeah, I did", you answer (hopefully as nonchalant as possible). "I hope they don't taste terrible."

"Please, you are the baker sent from heaven" Storm sighed, taking a bite of one of your cookies.

"I told you, my mutation literally causes the spirit of Martha Stuart to take over my body" you snort. "She's the little rat in my chef's hat".

You earned a chuckle from Charles, a yellow paper plate of some of your baked goods resting on his legs.

"If I truly ever felt the mind of Martha Stuart at this school, I would send us into lockdown" He joked back, but you had glanced at Logan again and your mind left the conversation.

He was smiling warmly as he handed plates of burgers and hot dogs to a few surrounding kids. He turned to the table behind him to open another pack of buns, and you silently thought 'thankyouthankyouthankyou' as you shamelessly stared at his ass.

With an enormous amount of willpower, you returned to the conversation ahead of you as Logan unfortunately turned back to the grill.

♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬

The lights dimly lit the courtyard under the darkening sky. You sat in the grass, legs outstretched and feet swaying to the radio still playing in the background. Hearing footsteps, you glanced behind you.

Logan was making his way towards you, beer in hand.

"Hey" he said, kneeling to sit beside you. He sighed as he turned to stretch his legs out before taking a long drink.

"Hey there, grillmaster" you smile, reaching to snag his beer.

"Headmasters orders" He groaned as you sipped his cold drink.

"Whatever Logan, you had a smile on your face the whole time"

"I think you were a little busy staring at my ass to notice my face" He teased and snatched his beer from you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Don't even flatter yourself" you said, turning away and hoping he didn't notice the blood rushing to your cheeks. "I was admiring your grilling capabilities".

He let out a quiet laugh as your face became even hotter.

"Only my grilling capabilities?" He said, and you felt him leaning closer to you. "Nothing else?"

You tried to ignore him despite goosebumps making their way up your arms. He taps your arm with his beer, trying to get you to look at him.

"You think you're hot shit, huh?" you say as a deterrent.

"And you don't?" he flirts, knocking you with the cold bottle in his hand again. You roll your eyes, deciding between groaning out 'Whatever, Logan', 'Spare me', or 'Fuck off'.

Before you even open your mouth, the radio catches your attention. You take a second to recognize the beginning of the song before gasping loudly.

"Oh my god, this is my song!" you light up, whipping around to face Logan and grabbing his shoulder. "The radio's been on all night, I can't believe it's playing!"

You scramble up to a crouch and grab at Logan's arms.

"Come here, Logan, I wanna dance!"

Before he can say a word, you yank on his wrists and pull him off the grass. Your song hums from the speakers as you pull him to spin to the beat. Logan rolls his eyes at you, but he can't ignore the smile that's on your face. You're holding each others' fingers, and he lets you push and pull at opposite arms.

You can't help but sing along, turning from side to side with the lyrics. A grin forms on Logan's face, and he decides to pull you closer and put his hand on the small of your back. You're too enthralled in the music to feel embarrassed, and you push your leg up to force Logan to dip you.

You pull away from him and spin yourself under his arm. You're jumping and swaying to the beat, unaware that Logan is enjoying himself enough to dance along as little as he can get away with.

At every chorus, you lift your hand in a fake microphone and sing into it. Logan sings along too, but quietly enough that you don't notice.

The last few notes of the song play out, and you slow to a stop and catch your breath. You look up at Logan, surprised to find him with an enjoyable look on his face. Your hands are still connected when you straighten up to say "Sorry, I just haven't heard that in while".

You start to let go of his hands, but his fingers tighten around yours. He's looking right into your eyes, the normal furrow in his brows gone and his features softened.

"Don't apologize" he says gently.

"Okay" you respond in whisper. His gaze is unwavering.

You blink with your heart thrumming in your chest. You can't tell if hours or only seconds have passed while you've been looking up at him. You're afraid to look away and ruin the moment, but you unintentionally glance down at his lips and notice that he's smiling.

With a newfound burst of confidence, you pull your hands from his to grab at his jawline. You tug him down and kiss him. Before you can pull back, his hands grip your back. He pulls you closer from his hand between your shoulder blades and other on the curve of your spine. He sighs into you before you pull away, and you meet each other's gaze once again.

"I hope they play that song again" Logan says to you after a beat. You can't fight your smile before you say "Me too".

He brings your face to his and whispers "You spilled my beer, asshole" before kissing you deeply. You push him away, smiling.

"Go get another one, I'll figure out how to play that song again"

[hotchner-edu]

hi! I know you’re on a little writing break but if you get the chance what about where reader has to do like hand to hand combat with an unsub like JJ does in s7 bc her and hotch get paired up but they take him out first and so it’s up to her to get them both out of there alive or something and then him and everyone on the team is impressed bc reader doesnt look like the type to be able to do that or something 🤓

The Claws Come Out (Drabble) | Aaron Hotchner

It was no secret that you and Spencer were a bit coddled on the team, being the two youngest agents with, according to Derek, the demeanor of a kitten cosplaying business casual. You and Spencer have grown to just accept the picture the team has painted and prove your capabilities in other ways on the field.

"How's it looking so far, Spence?" You mumble and stare at the map he's pinned up on the board. Derek has his arms crossed, swaying a bit in his chair as he waits for the next phone call from the unsub. Hotch is standing beside your chair, eyebrows pinched together as he directs his attention to the board.

"I've narrowed it down to two places." Spencer hums, stepping back to analyze his work.

"But..?" You can sense how he's trailing off.

"They're on opposite sides of town. Deducing from the echoes we heard from his last calls, and the strong emotional connections he has with the previous crime scenes, we're left with..." Spencer points to two distant ends on the map. "The warehouse he was fired from and the church he frequented as a child." He finishes and clears his throat, turning around to look at Hotch.

"So we split?" You suggest and whirl your chair around to look up at the stern man.

Your unit chief considers it for a second before nodding and looking around the precinct. "Alright. Reid, you and Dave stay here and wait to see if Thompson calls again. If he does, keep him talking." He then turns to Derek. "Morgan, I want you, JJ, and Prentiss to go to the warehouse."

"And we'll go to the church." You finish softly and smile, standing up and stretching your arms as you turn to your boss. "Can I drive?"

Unfortunately, you're yet again relegated to the role of passenger princess as Hotch navigates through the town, caution for the speed limit thrown into the wind. "He's not going to go down without a fight."

Hotch's words sound cautious, and when the car turns into the church parking lot, your eyes widen as you see Thompson's vehicle parked haphazardly by some bushes. "He's here. I'll tell the others."

"We can't wait for them to get here." Hotch is already unbuckling his seatbelt, only waiting until you send a swift text before hurrying to the church entrance.

You're trailing behind him, gun unholstered and pointed toward the concrete. "Only one entrance." You huff out with a worried sigh, watching as Hotch gently pushes one of the tall doors open, his other hand gripping his gun.

Fortunately, neither of you are immediately gunned down as he swiftly opens the door and ducks out of the way. It seemed that your unsub wasn't sitting at a pew, firearm at the ready.

You motion that you're going to go investigate one of the narrow hallways to your right, and Hotch goes deeper into the church. With your gun raised, you carefully step through the dimly lit passageway, seeing stacked storage bins coated in dust, and old books stacked on some rickety shelves.

No sign of Thompson.

Just as that thought brushes across your mind, you hear a familiar grunt along with some crashes. Hurrying out of the room, you rush back into the nave, eyes immediately zeroing in on your unit chief laying on the ground.

Some of the candles by the pews are knocked over, and you're only able to snap out of your shock when a harsh kick from your right sends your gun sliding across the floor. Recovering quickly, you see Thompson's shoe coming in for another hit, this time aimed at your face, and you duck breathlessly.

Seeing that the man is unarmed, you pop back up on your feet and close the distance between you both to send a punch across his face. Your right hook ushers a surprised grunt from his lips, and you quickly take advantage of his unsteady balance by sending a spinning back kick right to his sternum.

He flies back a bit and hunches over before letting out an enraged cry and lunging for you, hands flailing. You meet his hits with a sidestep and you send a kick to his backside, his momentum combined with your kick sending him headfirst toward the ground.

You see him trying to reach for your gun that's a few feet in front of him and you hurry to kick it away, yelping when he grabs your ankle and tugs you back, sending you crashing to the floor too.

He tries to get on top of you, breathing in harshly as he shuffles closer. Flipping onto your back, you grunt and lay your foot down on the ground to steady yourself before using the other to kick up toward his chest. He groans as he falls back, clutching at his chest that was likely aching from your previous kick.

Getting up on your feet, you watch him scramble to do the same. You can tell from his hunched shoulders and heavy breathing that he's having a hard time catching his breath and that this exchange was nearing its end. Grunting in frustration, you roundhouse kick him in a flash, the adrenaline practically bursting from your pores.

It's almost comical the way he flips over the pew behind him, crashing onto the floor in an unconscious heap. Catching your breath, you immediately hurry to retrieve your gun. However, as you turn around you're met with the shocked faces of your team at the entrance, guns lowered.

Blinking slowly at them, you offer a sheepish smile before turning to go check up on your boss. Your movements snap them back to reality as they hurry to call for backup and medics, Derek already marching to cuff your unconscious unsub.

No one says anything about the altercation until your hand is bandaged up and Hotch is cleared of any serious injuries. As you're walking away from the ambulance, Emily sidles up to your right and swings an arm over your shoulder.

"Kitty's got claws." She hums out with a bright smile.

"It was nothing." You shake your head and chuckle softly as she leads you over to where the team is circled together.

Rossi smiles brightly when he sees you, hand moving to pat your shoulder. "I heard from a little birdy that you saved the day. Good job, kiddo."

"Yeah, we were going to intervene, but you were winning." Derek jokes and shrugs. "But when were you going to tell us you could do all of that?"

"I was honestly going to wait for the day where you challenged me to hand-to-hand." You snicker softly. Derek rolls his eyes and shakes his head affectionately, calling out to Spencer with a teasing remark as he approaches with his hands in his pockets.

Your eyes dart around the vicinity, your head perking up a little when you see Hotch walking toward you all after shaking hands with the local police chief.

Slipping away from the group, you walk toward him with a small grin. "You gave me quite the scare, y'know?"

An all too fond smile flickers across his face. "I'm fine, but good job today. You've got a great roundhouse."

"It was nothing." You shrug before furrowing your eyebrows and looking at him inquisitively. "Wait, you saw that?"

"Yeah, I came to after you landed on the floor." He says with a faint smirk, raising a hand to brush against yours. "Are you okay though? It seemed like a hard fall."

You don't comment when his pinky hooks around yours. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm more sturdy than I look."

His eyebrows raise in amusement and his face softens as he keeps his gaze on you. "We should have you training the new recruits then."

"That'd be fun." You muse out as you turn to look at the cars around you. "Actually, Hotch, I'm so okay in fact that I think I'm fine enough to drive us back."

His chest rumbles with a chuckle as he shakes his head and walks toward the Buick you both took earlier. "Not a chance."

[wandaspup]

Sinners

Summary: In a small town, you try living up to your mother’s expectations while encountering Wanda Maximoff, a mysterious woman and a childhood friend of your mothers. It leaves you questioning her intentions and your beliefs. 

Parings: Wanda x Fem R

Warnings: Fictional mother is an asshole

Author notes: Things to consider before reading: You are 19 years old while Wanda is 36. I'm not familiar with the bible so please do not take this seriously. It's only fiction.

Warnings will be added as I update more chapters! ♥️ Happy reading

Part 2

The handles are warm as you push the double doors open of the church, their hinges creaking softly in response to the intrusion. As the door swung apart, it revealed the dimly lit interior bathed in sunlight whistling through the skylight. Thousands of dust particles scattered around the beams, casting a glow. On either side of the church, the stained-glass windows painted with vivid patterns, painted their shadows on the polished floor. 

As you lingered behind your parents, hands clasped together at your front. The four walls of the church momentarily silenced the bustling streets before more people entered, quiet murmurs spreading across the churchgoers. People passed by to take their seats, some offered greetings to your parents, while others remarked on how you have grown into a fine young lady. Your family was well known for the small church gatherings they hosted, always extending their hospitality to the community. However, you could not shake the feeling your parents’ ego was involved, driven by their desires to keep their status. Your mother seemed intent on being the best, regardless of the situation, while your father followed her lead. 

Lost in your head, you hadn’t noticed the priest approaching your parents until he stood before them, a gentle smile on his lips. “Good morning, everyone,” he greeted, his voice warm and inviting. “I trust you all found yourselves well?”

“Certainly, Father Steve. It’s always a pleasure,” your mother affirmed with a nod, her hand briefly resting on the priest’s arm. Beside her, your father offered a gentle squeeze of 

Father Steve’s hand.

His eyes landed on you, a wide grin reaching his face as he moved between your parents. Your feet shuffled beneath you, a slight bow to your head as he addressed you directly. 

“My child, you are growing quite fast,” he remarked warmly. “I’m sure your mother and father must be so proud of you.”

You nodded, a faint uncertainty lingering in your response. “I hope so,” you murmured softly. Your gaze flicked over to them, your mother’s stern facade causing a tightness in your stomach. Before the tension could linger further, the priest politely excused himself to begin the ceremony. You followed your parents towards the front row, Father Steve took his place at the altar.

Your mother, focused on the moment, spared no mind at you, her hushed reminder to keep your posture straight and your head forward as you took your seat beside her. 

The urge to roll your eyes was strong, but you fought against it, instead clenching your fists tightly against your thighs and felt your jaw tense and your teeth grind together in frustration. A flicker of movement draws your attention. A woman sitting on the right far end at the fourth row lingering on the edge of your sight, compelling you to get a glance.

Father Steve gently echoes through the church, drawing your focus back to the front with swift precision. “As we gather here today, let us remember the grace and mercy of our Lord, who is our eternal Savior. With his love God watches over us, guiding and protecting us. We strive to lead by good deeds by following his teachings and commandments, we can trust him for his protection.”

“But let’s not forget we are human, mistakes are bound to happen. God will not judge for our mistakes and in his eyes there is always the opportunity for redemption. Through prayers we can seek forgiveness for our sins."

The final sigh of amen hangs in the air, marking the end of the prayer. You can sense your mother stares before she gets up along with the rest from the row. Your thoughts briefly drift to the encounter with the mysterious woman before refocusing. You got up and followed behind your parents, still you couldn’t keep your eyes forward as you searched for the woman. 

Approaching the altar, the chalice tipped gently down as you savored the taste of bitterness on your tongue. You move for the next person, your head down fixed at the worn out tiles. 

A sudden collision made you come back to reality. “I am so sorry.”

“No harm done, honey,” she chuckled softly, so husky yet smooth. “I’m Wanda.” She happily says and extends her hands for a greeting. 

You gave your name and took her offer, your hands met in a firm grasp. Wanda was undeniable beauty, her cheekbones formed natural crowns on her face. The strange sensation from earlier startled within, however you pushed them aside and ignored it. 

“Well I should be getting back to my parents.”

“Of course don’t let me keep you.” 

Everything about her kept you wondering who she was. Her face was so recognizable, you pushed yourself to remember where you had last seen her. 

With everyone getting their share, you navigated past the rows where your parents were engrossed in conversation near the doors. Your mother’s words echoed at the tip of your ears, reminding you how impolite It is to interrupt. So you lingered on the side, fidgeting with your hands as your gaze remained fixed on Wanda. You didn’t know how long you stood there before your mother called out your name, finally getting your attention on the third call. 

“You’ve been out of it all day, pull yourself together now.” 

“Yes, mother, I’m sorry,” you gritted out, feeling anger settle in you. 

You squinted as you emerged out of the doors, stuffing your hands in your pockets as you jogged down the three steps. Families and friends crowded outside while you watched, your parents, well your mother couldn’t help but throw her sentimental joy at people's faces. With a sigh, you kicked a small pebble across the ground. 

Just then, they’ve come to join you where you stood, thankful to be leaving. But as you all started towards the car, the small shriek of your mother’s voice halted both you and your father. You looked up seeing Wanda heading towards you, her presence alone twisting your insides. 

Surprised, your mother’s eyes widened as fixed on the red head. “Wanda?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Shaking off the feeling, you reassured yourself that you were just being paranoid about Wanda. There’s no way you could forget a face like hers. It’d be ridiculous not to remember meeting a woman with such elegance. Wanda appeared as a flawless Barbie doll, ravishing with politeness and beauty. Her demeanor seemed almost too perfect to be real. 

Wanda chuckled, her arm draping over your mother’s shoulder with a sharp but soft expression. “Surprised to see me?” She teased.

“You never told me when you were coming.”

With a casual shrug, she stepped back, her gaze briefly landing on you and your father before focusing elsewhere. You tapped your feet, swaying one of them back and forth by your heels. Something about her still didn't settle right with you. It seemed she knew your mother well, what a consequence. You observed your father and can tell he knew her as well. 

“Well, you know me. I always enjoy making an entrance. Arrived yesterday morning and managed to snag a room at that quaint little motel. Your town is absolutely lovely.”

Your father greeted Wanda with a firm handshake before turning to you. "This is our daughter," he said, his hand gently patting your shoulder, urging you forward as though you were still a small child. 

Wanda waved her hand, dismissing the encounter. “Oh, we already met in the church.” She gave you a little pat on your arm, leaving her hand there for a little second longer.

She winked and you felt goosebumps scatter through your body as you stood confused why this woman who you never met before besides a brief encounter was making you feel this way. 

“How about you coming over for dinner tomorrow? We’d love to have you.” 

Wanda nodded and clasped her hands together, a smile broke out on her lips. “I’ll be there.”

[st4rfckerz]

Church Mouse | Priest!Anakin Skywalker x reader

word count: 4.0k

warnings: MDNI 18+, blasphemy, age gap (reader is in her 20s), mild manipulation, infedelity, pet names, dubcon, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, virginity loss, rushed ending dead dove do not eat

summary: After confessing your sins to the priest, he encourages you to talk to him privately.

The sun shone brightly outside the church windows, casting warm rays across the peaceful town square. Birds sang melodiously in trees lining the peaceful avenue leading to the church building. Inside, candles flickered gently, casting warm light on the ornate wooden pews filled with devoted parishioners.

Many attendees wore their finest clothes as they listened intently to Father Anakin's sermons, occasionally whispering prayers under their breath or reaching for their rosaries. The scent of incense mixed pleasantly with perfume and cologne wafting through the air.

"Today's lesson is about finding solace in our faith during difficult times, we have all faced trials and tribulations throughout life, but remember that God is always with us, guiding us through these dark moments," he paused dramatically, letting the words sink in before adding. "Just like how I am here for you all, If anyone needs guidance or support outside of church hours, please don't hesitate to visit me personally."

The crowd applauded politely, some even raising their hands in praise.

Anakin stood tall and proud in front of his congregation, his hands resting gracefully atop each other in prayer position. "But first, let us pray," he began solemnly. Everyone followed suit, kneeling on their knees, and bowing their heads in unison. He led them in a heartfelt prayer asking for strength and guidance throughout the week ahead. Your eyes were closed tightly as you prayed fervently, the beads of you rosary clicking softly in rhythm with each breath you took.

The prayer ends and you raise your head. Anakin's warm eyes met yours briefly before returning his gaze to the congregation. "Remember, my dear friends, if you ever need someone to turn to in times of trouble or doubt, I am here for you. Now, let us proceed with the sermon." He said softly yet firmly.

Anakin's sermon lasted well beyond the usual hour mark, his words resonating deeply within you. He talked about sin and repentance, forgiveness and redemption. Each sentence seemed tailored specifically for you, hitting hard at places you didn't even know existed. His voice was mesmerizing, lulling you into a trance-like state where all you could think about was him.

After thanking everyone for attending church today, Anakin announced that confessionals would remain open for anyone who needed to speak with him privately. He urged those waiting outside the confessional booths to enter one by one. People started lining up outside the confessional booths, waiting patiently for their turn to unburden themselves.

You hesitated briefly, unsure whether you should go or not.

Finally, mustering up courage, you walked slowly towards the nearest booth, taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

You couldn't help but notice how many women seemed particularly entranced by Father Anakin; they hung onto his every word during sermons and lingered longer than necessary after Mass ended. Some even approached him directly after services, seeking personal guidance or counsel.

When it was finally your turn, you nervously stepped inside the dimly lit booth. The thick wooden panel separated you from him, giving you some semblance of privacy. You hoped no one could hear what you were about to say.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned." You begin timidly.

You could hear his soothing voice responding softly, "What is it my child? Remember, here you can speak freely without fear of judgment." His deep baritone reverberated through the wooden walls, making your knees tremble slightly.

Unsure of how to begin, you struggled to find the right words. Your voice trembled slightly as you managed to spit out the confession that had been weighing heavily on your mind for days now.

"I had an encounter with a boy and it was wrong," You explain. "He touched me Father." The admission felt like a heavy stone being lifted off your chest, but also brought forth a wave of guilt and shame.

Your heart raced faster than ever before, and you could feel sweat forming on your palms as they clutched tightly onto the confession railing.

Anakin's eyes narrowed slightly, a slight frown creeping onto his otherwise serene face.

His warmth radiated off him like a furnace, making you feel as if you were melting in his presence. "And did you enjoy it?" he asked bluntly, his tone laced with curiosity rather than judgment.

Slightly taken aback you respond meekly, "No sir."

After a brief pause, he continued, his tone becoming more commanding. "Meet me in my office once everyone has left." With that cryptic statement, you hear his door open, signaling the end of confession time. After gathering yourself, you cautiously left the booth and returned to the previously vacant pew.

As everyone else left the almost empty church, you sat in silence and waited. The sun casted a warm, golden light through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the pews surrounding you. It was only you and a woman only a few years your senior. The woman's eyes lingered on Anakin hungrily as she waited for him to acknowledge her presence

The woman, dressed in a somewhat modest dress and heels, stood in front of Anakin. They engaged in conversation for several minutes, their voices low enough that you couldn't make out what they were discussing. Anakin gave you a small nod towards the hallway leading to his office, indicating you should wait outside while he finished up with the other woman. Reluctantly, you stepped into the empty hallway, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. Every step felt like walking on eggshells, and every sound echoed loudly in your ears. Finally, after what seemed like forever, you reach his office.

With haste, you slip inside and shut the door. You sat nervously in the chair, trying to compose yourself as you waited for Anakin to finish his conversation with the woman. The office itself was tastefully decorated, featuring a large wooden desk with numerous religious trinkets and pictures of Jesus Christ adorning the walls. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with volumes on religion, philosophy, and psychology. A large cross hung prominently above his desk, casting eerie shadows across the room.

The door creaked open, and Anakin stepped inside, closing and locking it behind him. His long legs striding confidently towards you as you remain sitting in your chair. Reaching out, he gently caressed your cheek with his warm palm, his fingers brushing against your jawline. His touch sent electric shockwaves through your body, making it hard for you to focus on anything but him.

"Did you enjoy today's sermon little lamb?" He asks softly.

"Yes Father," You managed to croak out, your voice cracking slightly. "It was very moving."

Anakin walks over to his desk and sits down across from you, his presence nearly overpowering as he leaned forward in his chair. His large frame loomed over you, making you feel small and insignificant yet simultaneously drawn to him.

"I noticed how attentive you've been during my sermons," he admitted with a slight smirk. "It's quite flattering, actually." You couldn't help but blush at his candid admission, feeling a strange mixture of embarrassment and excitement wash over you.

"Now, tell me more about this encounter you mentioned during confession," he said calmly, leaning forward slightly. His presence was suffocating yet strangely comforting, making it difficult for you to form coherent sentences. "What exactly happened between you and this boy?"

"W-well the other day me and this boy were studying together, and then he kissed me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Is that all he did?" Anakin pressed, his eyes boring into yours. His question caught you off guard, and you hesitated before answering truthfully.

"No sir, when we kissed he put his fingers...inside me." Your face flushed even brighter at your confession, and you felt heat rising in your chest. Anakin's expression remained unchanged, but you could feel the heat emanating from him intensifying.

"Was it consensual?" he asked bluntly, his eyes boring into yours.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond. On one hand, you knew what you had done was wrong, but another part of you couldn't deny the thrill and excitement it brought you

"Yes Father," you whispered softly, barely audible above the ticking clock on his desk. You hung your head low in shame, tears threatening to spill over at the thought of betraying your faith. "But I didn't...you know." Anakin's brow furrowed slightly, his eyes searching yours intently. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze intensifying. Anakin paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully.

"You didn't have an orgasm." He stated bluntly, his tone devoid of judgment. You shake your head quickly, too embarrassed to speak again.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk, his forearms resting on his knees. His icy blue eyes bore into yours, searching for some hidden truth that you refused to admit. "It's natural for a young woman like yourself to be curious about her body and sexuality," he said matter-of-factly. "But remember, these desires must be channeled appropriately. God created us with these urges, but we must learn to control them."

Anakin rose from his chair, towering over you as he extended a hand towards his own seat. "Please, sit," he commanded softly, his voice carrying an underlying command that left no room for refusal. You hesitantly stood up and walked tentatively towards him, your heart racing wildly in anticipation of what was to come.

Anakin stood behind you as you sat in his big, leather chair. He opened a large, leather-bound Bible on the desk, flipping through the pages until he found a particular passage. "Read this passage aloud for me," he commanded softly, his hands resting lightly on the arms of the chair. "I believe it might resonate with you." You cleared your throat and began to read the passage about self control, giving it your best effort despite the heavy breathing behind you.

"2 Peter 1:4 Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires." You read quietly. Anakin listened intently as you read the passage, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your nape and down your spine. With each touch, your brain became foggier, making it difficult for you to concentrate on the words written centuries ago.

"That's beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and husky. Anakin leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you understand what these words mean?" he whispers.

"Yes Father." You reply quietly. Anakin's fingers traced lower, brushing against your cleavage through your top. "Good girl," he praised, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Now, I want you to close your eyes and imagine that these words are being spoken directly to you by God Himself."

He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Imagine that He's telling you, 'My child, I love you unconditionally. You are mine, and no one else can ever take that away from you.' Do you feel it spreading throughout your body?" A surge of warmth washed over you like a tidal wave. It started at your feet and spread upwards, engulfing every inch of your body. You shivered in delight as goosebumps formed on your skin.

Anakin flipped the Bible page to another passage, his fingers brushing against yours lightly as he did so. "Now, read this one aloud for me, 1 Thessalonians 4:3-5" he commanded softly, his warm breath tickling your earlobe.

You obediently did as he commanded, trying hard not to focus on the growing arousal between your legs. You clear your throat and speak again.

"For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God."

As you read the passage, Anakin's lips traced slow, gentle kisses along your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Each touch ignited a fire within you, making it increasingly difficult to focus on the words written on the page. Anakin's lips reached your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin.

"You're still pure, aren't you?" he asked softly, nipping lightly at your earlobe. "No one has ever claimed you like this before?" His hand reaches down and slides underneath your skirt, brushing his knuckles against your wet, cotton panties.

"Yes." you managed to choke out, your voice cracking with desire. Your body arched into his touch, begging for more. You bit your bottom lip hard, trying to suppress the moan escaping your throat as he continued to tease and torment you. You felt your resolve crumble beneath his relentless assault on your senses. His words had substance, they seemed so full of meaning. You were mesmerized.

Anakin groaned lowly, his voice low and husky. "I knew there was something special about you, my church mouse," he whispered in your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. Anakin's hand moved to the edge of your panties, his warm fingers pulling them to the side. His thumb teased your throbbing clit, circling around it slowly. "You weren't this wet when that boy touched you, were you?" he purred, his voice filled with satisfaction.

"N-no Father, I wasn't." you moan softly, unable to contain the growing need building inside of you. Anakin's fingers plunge into your aching cunt, moving in and out of your tight entrance slowly at first, his thumb still circling your sensitive nub. His breathing grew heavier, matching the rapid pace of your own as he continued to explore your most sacred parts.

"That's my girl," he praised, his voice laced with lust. "Feel how much you need me?"

You nodded vigorously, unable to form coherent words as his touch escalated. Each curl of his fingers inside your drooling cunt heightened your arousal, making it nearly impossible for you to concentrate on anything else. His touch was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before—it was both rough and tender, possessive yet caring. The combination of his power and gentleness left you feeling both terrified and exhilarated at the same time.

Soon your body tensed up, and you could feel your orgasm building rapidly. Anakin pulled his fingers out of your core just as you reached the brink of ecstasy, leaving you hanging on the edge of orgasm.

"No, why'd you stop?" you whine softly as you turn around to face him. You pouted, your lower lip quivering in frustration as he denied you the release you so desperately craved.

A smirk played at the corners of his lips. "Not yet, little lamb." he teased, his voice laced with power and control. Anakin stood up straight again, his erection straining against his pants. He pulled your chair back slightly, creating enough room for him to stand in front of you. His large frame loomed over you as he placed a hand on your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

Anakin's eyes bore into yours, searching for any signs of hesitation or deceit. "Do you pray every night?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded earnestly, unable to hide the truth from him. "Yes, Father. I pray every night before bed." Anakin knelt down in front of you, his broad shoulders framing your body. His hands moved to rest on your knees, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over your skin.

"What do you pray for? What do you ask of God?" Anakin asks softly, his eyes searching yours intently.

You glanced down at your lap, unable to meet his piercing gaze. "I ask for strength and guidance, mostly." you mumbled, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

Anakin's eyes narrowed slightly, studying your reaction. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, his voice low and husky. "Good," His hand moved up your leg, lifting your skirt enough to expose your panty-clad pussy. "I can't help but notice how devoted you are during my sermons," he said, his voice dripping with false concern. "It would be a sin for me not to reward my favorite student.

With one swift motion, he yanked your panties down to your ankles, exposing your slick coated cunt to his hungry eyes. Anakin placed your leg on his shoulder, giving him better access to your now-exposed folds. His warm, wet tongue traced slow circles around your entrance before dipping inside, his tongue flicking against your sensitive spots with expert precision.

"Read again," he commanded, his voice mumbling against your warm flesh. "Proverbs 18:21."

You fumbled with the Bible, your hands shaking slightly as you tried to focus on the words written on its pages.

"The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit."

Anakin hums in approval against your mound, causing a rush of vibrations to flow through your body. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to block out the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. Your grip tightened on his hair, pulling him closer, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp.

You whimpered, your body tensing up in anticipation of imminent orgasm. "Father, I-I feel it coming again." you managed to choke out between moans.

Anakin's hand moved to your entrance, two fingers slipping inside of you, stretching you wider. "That's it," he said, his voice low and husky. "Let go and let yourself succumb to His will."

A wave of pure ecstasy crashed over you, your entire body convulsed, and a string of lewd moans escaped your lips. Your orgasm was unlike anything you had ever experienced before—more intense, more powerful, and more fulfilling than any previous encounter. It felt as though the heavens themselves were opening up to claim your soul.

Anakin's tongue continued to lap up your juices, his eyes locked on yours as he savored the taste of your arousal. With a smirk, he stood up straight again, towering over you in all his glory. Anakin's eyes were ablaze with desire as he stood over you, his hardened cock straining against his pants.

"We're not quite done yet," he said, his voice low and raspy. "Stand up."

He reached down, undoing his pants and boxers in one swift motion, freeing his thick member from its confines. It stood tall and proud, glistening with pre-cum, its head flushed a deep crimson.

"Bend over," he ordered. Slowly, you stood up and turned around, your back facing him. Anakin's hands gripped your hips, positioning you over the desk. You felt his cock poking against your ass, and a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine.

Anakin's large, calloused hands gripped your firm ass cheeks, squeezing and kneading them roughly. His fingers traced slow circles around your puckered entrance before moving lower, teasing your wet folds. He held his member in his other hand, rubbing the head against your entrance, teasing you mercilessly. "Do you still want this sweet girl?"

You gave a soft, breathy moan of approval, your hips wiggling slightly in anticipation. Anakin's hand connected with your ass cheek, a sharp slap that made you yelp in surprise.

"Speak up."

You cleared your throat, trying to regain composure. "Yes, Father." you finally managed to utter, your voice trembling with need.

"There you go." he coos his voice filled with faux sincerity. "Now, relax and let me take care of you." Anakin's cockhead pushed past your tight entrance, stretching you slowly but surely. A sharp cry escaped your lips as he began to thrust into you with deliberate slowness, his hips rocking back and forth in a rhythmic motion.

Your hands gripped the edge of the desk tightly, nails digging into the wood as he claimed possession of you, filling you completely. After several deep thrusts, the initial pain subsided, replaced by an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Anakin's hands keep hold of your hips, holding you steady as he pounded into you, filling every crevice of your tight passage. Your moans turned into whimpers, becoming more desperate as he picked up speed, his tip kissed your sweet spot with precision.

"Thaaat's it, give yourself to Him, let him cleanse you." he managed to grunt out between gasps for breath.

Your hand slipped off the desk, accidentally knocking over a family photo frame that fell to the floor with a loud crash. Anakin didn't seem to notice or care, his focus entirely on claiming you, taking what he believed was rightfully his.

The tight coil in your stomach began to build up once more, and you knew it wouldn't be long now. You arched your back, your hips moving in sync with his, begging for release. His pace quickened, his breath hot against your neck as he growled out, "Cum for me angel, I know you're close." His words were like a trigger, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

Anakin groaned, his hips bucking wildly as he felt your worn cunt clamp around him. With a final powerful thrust, he erupted inside you, filling you to the brim with his hot seed. His cock twitched and pulsed, draining every drop of his essence into you.

You collapsed against the desk, panting heavily, your entire body covered in sweat. Anakin leaned forward, his lips brushing against your shoulder. His cock slowly pulled out of your sore cunt, leaving you feeling empty and drained. He stepped back, admiring his work, his cock still semi-erect, dripping with your fluids. He extended a hand to help you steady yourself. Anakin turned to you, his eyes softening slightly. "Are you ok sweetheart?" he asked, concern etched on his features.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. " 'm fine," you managed to mutter, your voice hoarse.

"You did so good for me," Anakin panted, his eyes glazed over with fufillment. He helped you pull your panties back up your legs, his fingers brushing against your sensitive folds, causing a shiver to run through you.

Anakin sat back down in his chair, and motioned for you to sit on his lap. "Come here." he smiles. You tentatively approached him with wobbly legs, unsure of what he had in mind. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, so you were sitting sideways on his lap, your legs draped over his thighs. Anakin placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, his breath tickling your scalp. You remained like this for a moment, both caught in your own thoughts.

Breaking the silence, Anakin spoke softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your arm. "I want you to know something angel," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I would never hurt you, physically or otherwise. Our interactions are between us and God's eyes alone." You nodded, still processing everything that had transpired.

"If anyone ever finds out about today, we won't be able to see each other like this again." Anakin's hand tightened slightly, his fingers digging into your skin. "Do you understand me?" he asked, his voice taking on a threatening edge.

You nodded solemnly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I understand Father."

Anakin placed another soft kiss on your head before resting his cheek against your temple, his hand still firmly holding you in place.

"Good girl." he whispered.

Your eyes wander off and you suddenly see a cross hanging on the wall, the sight of it immediately brought an uneasy feeling to you. It felt like it was casting a small ominous and disapproving aura.

Uncertainty and confusion warred inside you, but there was also a strange sense of belonging and connection.

As you stare longer you feel as if it's judging you and looking at you as if it is not happy with what you have been doing.

You remain in his arms, you felt an odd mix of emotions, the sense of euphoria and bliss you felt with Anakin being so tender with you was overshadowed by the feeling of something not being right. You feel a tinge of regret for what you took part in but a part of you wants to do it again.

Maybe next Sunday.

[cera-writes]

could I request some spicy priest!Kurt x reader?🙏🙏🛐

A/N: ooooh, yes anon. Yes. Song inspo: Worship - Ari Abdul Pairing: Priest!Kurt Wagner x AFAB!reader Tags: sacreligious sexuality, pining, smut, confessions, sinning, dry humping

Penitent Pining

The church bells tolled solemnly, echoing through the city as the sun dipped below the horizon. Inside the dimly lit confessional, you sat, heart pounding with a mix of guilt and anticipation. The wooden partition slid open with a soft creak, and a velvety German laced voice whispered, "What sins weigh upon your soul today?"

You hesitated, your voice barely above a whisper. "Father Wagner, I... I have impure thoughts."

There was a pause, then Kurt's voice, gentle yet tinged with a hint of curiosity, replied, "Tell me, Mein Kind, what are these thoughts that trouble you so?"

"I think about... us," you confessed, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks. "About being close to you, in ways that should be forbidden."

Silence enveloped the small space for a moment before Kurt spoke again, his voice lower, almost a murmur. "It is natural to have such feelings, but we must resist them. Tell me, how do these thoughts manifest?"

You took a deep breath, the words tumbling out. "Sometimes, I imagine you here, with me. Touching me, kissing me. It's wrong, I know, but I can't help it. And even as I'm sitting in the congregation, all I can think of is you pressed against me..."

Kurt's breathing seemed to hitch slightly, and when he spoke, there was a huskiness to his tone. "These thoughts are indeed sinful, but they stem from human desire. We must pray for strength to overcome them."

As he spoke, you could hear the rustle of his cassock, the faint scent of incense wafting through the partition. Your mind raced with images of him, his blue fur, his agile form moving closer to you. Unable to resist, you reached out, fingertips brushing against the wood, imagining it was his skin.

"Father, I... I need guidance," you pleaded, your voice trembling with suppressed longing.

"Perhaps," Kurt began, his voice a whisper now, "perhaps it would be best if I were to show you the path to redemption. To guide you away from these desires."

Your heart leapt at his words, a thrill of illicit excitement coursing through you. "Yes, Father. Please, guide me."

The confessional door clicked softly as Kurt emerged from his side. He knelt before you, his eyes a deep, soulful yellow, filled with a mixture of duty and something deeper, something yearning.

"Let us begin," he said, his hand reaching out to take yours. As his fingers intertwined with yours, a jolt of electricity passed between you, igniting a fire that neither of you could ignore.

Kurt's other hand gently cupped your face, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "We must be careful," he murmured, even as his lips descended towards yours. The kiss was soft, chaste at first, but quickly deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding, more sinful.

You leaned into him, your hands gripping his cassock, pulling him closer. His tail wrapped around your waist, drawing you against him, where you could feel the evidence of his own desire pressing against you.

Breaking the kiss, Kurt looked into your eyes, a question lingering there. "Are you sure about this? Once we start, there is no turning back. I vowed to never marry... but, my vows don't pertain to taking, well, lusts of the flesh." His voice was husky, mixed with something akin to shame but also... need? Like a hungry wolf desperate to devour its prey.

With a nod, you confirmed your willingness, your body aching for his touch. "I trust you, Father. Lead me."

His resolve seemed to crumble at your words, and with a groan, he pulled you onto his lap, his mouth finding yours again in a passionate embrace. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, learning, as you did the same to him, each touch setting off sparks of pleasure.

In the sanctity of the confessional, under the guise of spiritual guidance, you and Kurt surrendered to the desires you had both harbored for so long, each movement, each gasp, a step further into the depths of sacrilegious passion.

The confessional walls seemed to close in around you, the air thick with the scent of incense and the musk of your shared desire. Kurt's hands were everywhere, exploring the contours of your body with a reverence that was both thrilling and forbidden. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, sending shivers down your back as he pulled you closer.

"Du bist so schön," Kurt murmured against your neck, his breath hot and inviting, lips tracing down your skin. His mouth followed the path of his words, leaving a trail of kisses that made your head spin. You arched into him, craving more of his touch, more of his attention.

"Father, please," you gasped, not sure what you were begging for, only that you needed it desperately.

Kurt's response was immediate and intense. He lifted you slightly, positioning you so that you straddled his lap, your legs wrapped around his waist. The fabric of his cassock brushed against your skin, a constant reminder of his role and the taboo nature of your actions.

"Just Kurt," he said, his voice husky with desire, tail flicking upwards to trace a soft pattern down your cheek, making you shudder pleasantly as you leaned into his touch.

With that, he began to move beneath you, slow and deliberate, his hips rolling in a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. You could feel the hardness of him through the layers of clothing, a physical manifestation of his desire for you.

Encouraged by his boldness, you let your hands roam over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, the strength hidden beneath his priestly garb. You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that was hungry and demanding, tasting the sweetness of his surrender.

Kurt's hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements, teaching you how to move with him, how to bring him pleasure. Each thrust, each grind brought you closer to the edge, the thrill of the forbidden heightening every sensation.

"Look at me," Kurt commanded softly, his yellow eyes locking onto yours.

You obeyed, drowning in the intensity of his gaze, lost in the connection that went beyond the physical. With each movement, you felt a part of yourself melding with his, their boundaries blurring in the heat of the moment.

The confessional seemed to fade away, the world outside forgotten as all that existed was the space between you and Kurt, the space filled with whispered confessions and silent prayers for forgiveness. But in that moment, neither of you wanted absolution; all you wanted was each other, completely and sinfully.

As the intensity built, you clung to Kurt, your nails digging into his shoulders, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. He held you tightly, a pillar of strength amidst the storm of your passion, his own breaths ragged and uneven. "Mm, Kurt!" you hissed, feeling your pleasure build.

"Zusammen," he whispered, just as the wave of pleasure crested, sweeping you both away in its relentless tide. You cried out, a sound muffled against his shoulder, as the world shattered into a million pieces, each one reflecting the depth of your connection, the weight of your transgression.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the echo of your hearts beating in unison. Then, slowly, reality began to seep back in, the chill of the confessional walls reminding you of where you were, what you had done.

But even as guilt began to gnaw at the edges of your consciousness, you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. Not when the memory of Kurt's touch still lingered on your skin, not when the taste of his kiss still tinged your lips.

Kurt seemed to sense your turmoil, his arms and tail tightening around you protectively. "We will face this together," he promised, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within you.

And as you looked into his eyes, seeing the same mix of desire and fear reflected there, you knew that whatever came next, you wouldn't be facing it alone.

"Is this a bad time to say forgive me Father, for I have sinned?" you smiled sheepishly.

Kurt only hummed in amusement.

[alastwhorez]

Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned

​† Pairing: Priest!Alastor x Reader

​† Summary: Alastor wants to save your soul

​† warnings: 18+, MDNI, mention of religion, masturbation, p in v, talk of oral, talk of masturbation, defiling a church, semi-public sex, public sex. Mention of Susan. I think that's everything.

​† An: I can't get priest Alastor out of my head. I'm working on turning this into a series. Will be linked when first chapter is out. Not proofread, possible spelling errors.

In your quaint little town, the old stone church stood as a beacon of solace and hope. The townsfolk often spoke of their new priest, Father Alastor, whose voice was as soothing as a lullaby and whose presence brought comfort to all who sought it.

You had been attending his services for months now, drawn not only by his inspiring sermons but also by something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. Father Alastor’s kindness and wisdom had touched your heart, and you found yourself looking forward to each Sunday with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the church, you decided to go to confession. Your heart pounded in your chest as you entered the dimly lit confessional booth. You had a secret to confess, one that had been weighing on your mind for some time.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “It has been a month since my last confession.”

Father Alastor’s voice, calm and reassuring, came through the screen. “Speak, my child. What troubles you?”

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Father, I… I have developed feelings for someone. Feelings that I know I shouldn’t have.”

There was a pause, and you could almost feel his gaze through the screen. “Feelings are a natural part of being human,” he said gently. “Who is it that you have these feelings for?”

Your heart raced as you struggled to find the words. “It’s you, Father Alastor. I have a crush on you.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You feared you had crossed a line, that you had ruined the trust and respect you had built. But then, Father Alastor spoke, his voice soft and understanding.

“My child, love and affection are powerful emotions, and they can often lead us down unexpected paths. It is not a sin to feel, but we must be mindful of our actions and intentions.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, but the weight of your confession still lingered. “I don’t know what to do, Father. I don’t want these feelings to come between us or to distract me from my faith.”

Father Alastor’s voice was filled with compassion. “It is important to acknowledge your feelings and to understand them. Sometimes, our hearts lead us to places we do not expect, but it is our faith and our commitment to our values that guide us.”

He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “I am here to support you, to help you navigate these emotions. Together, we can find a way to honor your feelings while staying true to your faith.”

“Father, I have another confession” You say

“What is it my child?” He speaks voice smooth

“I have committed the sin of the flesh, Father”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. “Urges and temptations are natural child, it's what makes you human”

You wiggle in the confessional before turning toward the screen and gripping it with your fingers.

“It's all the time Father, all I can think about”

You hear a slight gulp and he pauses briefly.

“My child, there is nothing wrong with you. You just have to stay committed to your faith. God will lead you in the right direction.”

“But Father, I'm scared I won't be able to control myself. I think about it all the time, even now. And the man I imagine makes it so much worse. He isn't available for such acts. I shouldn't be thinking of him this way.”

“Child, could you give me a better understanding of these acts you speak of? Maybe I can be of more assistance if I understanding”

Your legs rub together thinking about admitting these things to Father Alastor. You suck In a breath before speaking in a low breathy voice.

“I-I touch myself Father—Down there. And I know I shouldn't but I can't stop. And the sin doesn't stop There Father. I want to do more. The man I think about. I want him to do things to me, to touch me in unholy ways”

You hear his breath hitch and you can slightly see him fidget behind the screen as you hear the sound of clothes rustling.

“There is nothing wrong with imagining things you can not have, child. It becomes a sin when you act upon these Urges. I would suggest removing yourself from this man until the urges and actions cease.”

“But Father, that Would mean missing Your sermon”

“My child, if it is someone at the church you can always come to a different sermon, or speak to me privately. I'm more than willing to help you.”

“I don't think that will work, Father. He will still be here. He's always here”

“If you don't mind my asking, child. Who might this man be?” his voice is filled with curiosity

You bite your lip. “Oh Father, it's you. I already admitted to my crush, but it's so much more. I want you, Father. I want you to do unholy things to me. When you are up there speaking all I can think about is you taking me right on pew or the altar. Hiking my dress up and having your way with me. I touch myself to the thoughts of you, Father Alastor.”

You hear him choke. He is quiet for several moments. So long that you speak up. “Are you alright Father?”

He clears his throat. “Yes, Yes I'm fine”

“What do I do, Father Alastor? Can you help me? I can't be having these unholy thoughts about a holy man”

Alastor thinks for a moment. What no one knows about him is that before he became a priest he committed several sins. So many he knows he will never be forgiven for, but this is something entirely different.

Alastor has watched the several months You have attended his sermons and he has grown quite fond of you, and he has to admit you are a very attractive woman. You have suitors constantly banging at your door, and you want him?

Alastor was never one For physical touch and sins of the flesh, never having found someone he deemed worthy of doing such acts with, but you. Oh you could his perfect little sock sleeve. He could mold you into the perfect little pet. Just as long as no one finds out about it that is.

“child could you describe these acts and thoughts to me so I may be of bigger assistance”

You let a sigh escape your lips.

“I dream of you Father, dream Of you touching me, fucking me, letting me suck your cock As you fuck my face.”

You hear the sound of clothes rustling then a zipper

“Keep going my child”

“I let my hands wander around my body. I pinch, squeeze, and rub all over—anywhere I can touch. I take my clothes off and do things to myself.”

You hear panting and Heavy breathing.

“How do you touch yourself”

“I lick my fingers to wet them, then i slip them into my panties, i start stroking myself, rubbing, gathering up my slick, before I start to rub my clit. Slow then fast. When I'm close I sometimes slip a finger in maybe two. I like to think they are yours.

You hear a bang as he throws his head back and hits it against the wall. “What do you wish to do to me?”

“I want to suck your cock. lip up from the base to the top before taking in my mouth, down my throat. I play with your balls and when you cum i swallow it all down, not wasting a single drop.”

His breathing is more ragged and the movement faster.

“Fuck”

“Father, did you just?”

“ fuck, fuck, fuck”

Alastor is Fisting his cock, humping into his hand as he imagines it's yours, or even your cunt. He's close but can't push himself over the edge.

“goddammit! Get over here”

And you do. You exit the confessional and look around the church. No one is paying attention. You open the door to his side and slip in. You gasp at the sight.

Father Alastor, pants down, cock in hand. It's leaking, dripping down his hand. He growls. The confessional is small. Only big enough for one person. He grabs your hand and pulls you on top of him. He lifts your dress up over your hips and pushes your panties to the side.

“Father, what are you—” He cuts you off

“I'm helping you over this sin my dear. Together we will find salvation.”

He pushes you down by the hip, sliding into you, stretching your walls. Your mouth falls open in pleasure as his falls back.

He grips your hips and starts grinding you on him, slowly. He bucks up into you every now and again.

“Oh, oh father” He slams his lips against yours in a heated kiss silencing you. Can't have anyone knowing he is defiling you in here.

His tough wrestles with yours. You moan into the kiss, hands gripping his hair. he slaps your ass and tells you to ride him. You bounce up and down on his cock. His hand slides down your body finding you bundle of nerves before his skilled fingers start to rub.

You feel heat start to build and so does Alastor. You throw your head bad cumming all over his sock, squeezing him as he shoots his load into you, milking his cock.

Your head falls onto his shoulder and he stroking your back and hair. He pulls out and puts her panties back in place before patting your Clothed cunt. “Don't waste any of it” you nod.

You both sneak out of the confessional undetected. He opens his mouth to say something when someone walks over.

“Father Alastor, you're needed upfront.” his eyes turn to slits and his grin tightens

“Of course, Susan. I'll be right there”

He walks past you, his hand sliding along your body. He leans down against your ear.

“Meet me in the parsonage after the last sermon. We still have work to do to save your soul from total damnation”

Series table of contents

[girlkisser13]

speak now

"i hear the preacher say, ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’" "there's the silence, there's my last chance" "i stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me" "horrified looks from everyone in the room" "but i'm only looking at you"

pairings: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings/tags: angst with fluff at the end. you fell first, anthony fell harder. the reader is daphne’s best friend.

summary: anthony comes to a realization the night before your wedding— the wedding where you’re supposed to be marrying someone else.

the moonlight cast a soft glow over the elegant drawing-room of bridgerton house. anthony stood by the window, lost in thought, as daphne entered the room. she had just returned to london, bringing with her news that had unsettled him to the core.

"why have i not heard of this in lady whistledown’s columns?" he had demanded, pacing the room.

"it was kept private," daphne replied, her voice calm but tinged with sadness. "y/n did not wish for any undue attention. the wedding is tomorrow, anthony."

"tomorrow?" he stopped in his tracks, a look of determination hardening his features. without another word, he grabbed his coat and left the house, ignoring daphne’s calls after him.

the night was deep when anthony arrived at your family home. the world around him was silent, the only sound his hurried footsteps on the cobblestone path. he knocked on the door with a sense of urgency, his heart pounding in his chest. when you opened the door, your eyes widened in surprise and confusion.

"anthony? what are you doing here?" you whispered urgently, glancing around to ensure no one else saw. "it is improper for you to be here at this hour."

"i had to see you," he replied, his voice a fervent plea. "you cannot marry him."

you shook her head, "anthony, this is madness. you should not be here. think of our families’ reputations.”

“i do not care about reputations," he insisted, stepping closer. "i care about you, y/n. i cannot stand by and watch you marry a man you do not love."

your eyes filled with tears, but you quickly blinked them away. "you do not love me, anthony. you only say this because i am soon to be wed. please, leave before someone sees you."

his heart ached at your words, but he pressed on. "y/n, i have always loved you. even when you were merely daphne’s bothersome friend. my feelings are not sudden. they have always been there, growing stronger with each passing day."

you shook your head again, more vehemently this time. "no, anthony. this is not right. you must go."

with that, you turned and fled up the stairs, leaving him standing in the dimly lit hallway, the weight of his confession hanging heavily in the air.

returning to bridgerton house, anthony found daphne waiting for him, a knowing look in her eyes. "where have you been?" she asked, though it was clear she already knew the answer.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i went to see y/n. i professed my love to her, but she does not believe me."

daphne’s expression softened. "anthony, she has loved you since the moment she stepped into our home. you must show her that your feelings are genuine. if you truly love her, you must fight for her."

her words resonated deeply with him, and he resolved to do whatever it took to prevent the marriage.

the morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear, the air filled with a sense of anticipation. the church was adorned with flowers, the pews filled with friends and family. anthony took his seat, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what he was about to do. as the ceremony commenced, he watched you walk down the aisle, your face a mask of composure. when the bishop inquired if there were any objections, anthony rose to his feet.

"i do," he declared, his voice ringing out in the silence.

gasps echoed through the congregation. your parents exchanged shocked glances, and the groom’s face darkened with anger.

his mother, seated next to him, grasped his arm with urgency.

"anthony, what in heaven’s name are you doing?” she whispered, her voice filled with concern.

ignoring her, anthony kept his gaze fixed on you, your face had turned pale with shock. he moved his arm away from his mother’s touch, his resolve unshaken.

"i cannot let this happen," he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

your eyes were wide with a mix of emotions. without a word, you fled the church, the weight of anthony’s declaration heavy on your heart. you ran to the one place where you could find solace—the apple tree in your family’s garden.

you stood beneath the apple tree, your breaths coming in ragged bursts. the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the garden as anthony approached you. your eyes, still red from crying, met his with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

"go away, anthony," you whispered, turning away from him. "you have humiliated me enough. no man will want to marry me now."

"how did you even find me?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

anthony, catching his breath, gave a soft, sad smile. "i have seen you come here before. when the demands of society became too much at the balls held at your family home, you would retreat here to find solace."

your brow furrowed in surprise, you turned to face him. "you have been watching me?"

he nodded, his gaze tender. "i have always kept an eye on you, even if you did not know it. i wanted to ensure that you were safe and that you had a place to escape when you needed it."

your heart ached with the realization of his quiet vigilance. "you knew?"

"yes," anthony replied softly. "i knew. and i could not let you marry someone who did not see you as you truly are. you deserve to be loved fully, and i have always felt that love for you."

he knelt beside you, gently taking your hands. reluctantly, you met his gaze, and in his eyes, you saw an intensity you had never witnessed before. "i am terribly sorry for ruining your ceremony, but i simply could not bear to see you marry another. alas, i am a gentleman. if you do not feel the same, i will leave and never bother you again."

your heart ached with the depth of your feelings. "i desire no one else. i have always wanted you, but i never believed you could feel the same. i think you have ruined me for everyone else."

anthony’s grip on your hands tightened. "it is you who have ruined me, y/n. my heart is so full of you that i can hardly call it my own."

with a sob, you threw your arms around him, pressing your lips to his in a kiss filled with years of longing and unspoken love.

anthony held you close, your heart swelling with joy and relief. "i am yours, y/n. nothing will ever change that."

in the quiet of the garden, beneath the shade of the apple tree, your love found its voice, a love that had always been destined to be.

[lovelylambi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 † . ☥

warnings — nsfw, hierophillia, sacrilege, religious themes, corruption kink, blasphemy, finger fuk¡ng, prohibition, overstimulation, subordination, dacryphillia . *

this is my first written smut so enjoy as i wrote is as best as i could ♡

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

The night was rainy in the midst of the night. You arrived to the empty candle lit cathedral, expecting nobody but you. Not a single soul was seen as the rows of seats sat ghostly empty. You were all alone, alone to pray, except you weren't alone, the priest's figure stood ominously, turned away from you.

Every time you'd visit your sermons, you'd always meet his gaze, a sinful feeling of shame lingered everytime you had thought about him. The way his roman cassock suited him as he'd stood there, speaking his sermonic lectures, his image had lingered even after you went home. You knew you had to repent your sins, as it had consumed you. A confession you'd regret but had too for the lord to not make you crave a sinful consumption of guilt and shame, to be forgiven for such impurities.

Your heels tapped against the marble floor beneath you as you walked closer towards the stage of the church. Surrounded you was empty abyss that occupied the rows of seats. The Priest was turned away, lighting candles and praying away as the lights dimly lit the whole cathedral, his figure casting a shadow onto the walls.

The cathedral was hauntingly quiet. Faint organs played when nobody was even there, you can almost hear the dead saints singing a choir. You walked closer, creeping behind the priest until he gazed behind his shoulder, soon turning around, fully meeting your innocent eyes. His tall dark figure stood there while you fiddled your hands together. He scanned you up and down, noticing your quiet timidity. "Father..." You softly gulped down as you felt your throat tighten. He spoke softly while the shadows had caressed his face. His face, soft and comforting, but also cold and emotionless. "Yes my child?" His voice echoed throughout the church, it was authoritative and soft. His hazeled eyes were just as soothing as his words. He slowly blinked at you, his gaze almost staring through your soul. Despite his words being gentle, a hint of danger dwelled in his eyes. You couldn't help but to melt as his scent filled your perimeter, it smelled of subtle incense and cologne. "I – I have something I need to confess, father...." You timidly spoke. His presence seeped into you like a knife. He spoke soft and warm, almost tempting and soothingly haunting, "You do?" The Priest had a strong aura about him that you just didn't even have the mind to back away. You stood before him with your knees trembling, and you could feel his gaze scanning you.

The Priest gently shuts a bible in his hand and places it onto the podium. He then stepped backward, gesturing for you to follow him inside a dark, empty confession booth. His footsteps echoed into the dark booth. You could feel his presence lingering behind the wall, the air felt heavier in there somehow, almost suffocating with the guilt and shame of sin. You didn't know if you'd want to leave while you still can. His presence alone just caused you to quiver at the thought him. He closed the booth and stood there, leaning forward. His shadow casted across over the wall, you couldn't help but stare at his outline. With only the sound of his faint breath, with a sheer wooden windowed–wall separating you, you could hear him quietly utter. "What do you have to confess my child...?" His voice soft. "I have been thinking sinful things... father... things I might not be forgiven for." You spoke in shame. You could feel the guilt loom over you like a shadow. "Sinful things?" His voice echoes out softly, you felt his gaze wander on you like a sharp arrow in the darkness. You couldn't help but to feel your breathing become heavy.

Even if he was the priest and was meant to protect you from sin, the thought of him being alone with you made your heart beat. But you also couldn't help that the sensation was somewhat soothing... but it was wrong, it fueled inside your bones like a disease... "Yes..." You clenched your legs together while you grasped the lining if you skirt as you sat there. You could feel the sinister thoughts not going away, as if god was almost listening. "And what are these sinful thoughts lingering inside of you..?"

"You..." You suddenly spoke of it, the humiliation of coming forward. You almost wanted to cry as you perch your head down in shame and guilt, for someone who's to forgive your sins, you felt an immense burden as it was your own priest that you were sinning for. "Tell me my child..." You were nervous, the thought of what he would do now was worrying. You worried about how he saw you now, as you were an impure girl, not to you, but to him also. You'd always see him at church, but now you see him in a much more sinister light. "What is it that you've thought.. ?"

"I – I can't say, father." Your voice almost plead with a sharp breath. His voice slowly drifted out again and was now more menacing. "Tell me." You felt like a criminal. He knew that the more you'd keep it in, the more guilty you'd feel. Your breathing was getting heavier, it was becoming harder to confess under his gaze. Your legs felt weak. Was this wrong? He was a priest devoted to god. Your voice fell in desperation, "Father.... I want do die for how I am sin itself..."

The Father leaned forward the booth's window, listening carefully to what more you had to say. The only noise was your trembling voice speaking through the gaps of the booth. Your hands clenched tightly together on your lap, hoping for forgiveness, hoping to be cleansed from your sins. He listened intently, soft and calm he was. His gentle voice filled the booth once again, "The lord forgives you dear child..." He was remorseful.

"Father... I repent..." You plead with a soft cry. His voice was deep as he kept leaning in closer. "Now that you've confessed your sins.. you must atone for them."

"Atone them..?"

His voice lowered into a deep whisper. You felt your body grow hotter by the second as he spoke. "Yes... atone..." The way he said it made it sound as if you were about to be punished... you felt even more nervous now, you almost couldn't take it... "Repenting is one thing, but the Lord does not forget easily. You will have to make up for it my child, or else the Lord will not forgive you." You felt yourself shiver at the sound of his words. "How will I... father." You spoke soft and sincere to him. His voice was full of authority, he knew exactly how to get a little lamb full of sin and somber to shiver. "Repentance requires atonement. The only way to truly repent for your sin is through me..."

"And how exactly.." You softly murmured. Listening carefully through the other side, it was cold and silent, as if he wasn't there at all. "Father....." You spoke out once again. No answer...

Soon the door swung open, revealing the dark figure of the mysterious priest. You flinched at his sudden appearance. He gestured you step out of the confessional booth, stepping aside. You brush past his way and followed him towards the stage of the church. The Priest came to a stop near a marble slab table, columns vertically placed onto the sides. The big gothic glass pane window ominously glowed an almost reddish.

You stood in front of him, wondering what he wanted. What you needed.. "Get on your knees..." He demanded. Abide by his command, you knelt to the cold bare floor on your bare knees. "Pray..." It was almost a threatening command.

You prayed for the sins to be forgiven as you closed your eyes and placed your palms together in prayer.

You prayed. Hoping for forgiveness. It was all you could do for the sin you had confessed. The candle flames dancing against you. You fluttered your eyes innocently up towards the priest, your eyes sparkling with the candle lit flames. Praying for any saint that would listen to you and spare you from the sin as you and the father's eyes conjured, his gaze watching your every move as you worshipped for forgiveness. He watched from above like the sinister thoughts you've thought about, it was no different. You closed your eyes and spoke, "Lord, I am a sinner, forgive me for I have sinned before you. Wash away my sin, purify me, and help me turn away from this sin....." You sincerely repented, words slipping softly out of your tongue. You opened your eyes once more, his grimace gaze filled you again. "The lord forgives child, but in this world of impurities, I have not, not quite yet.." He spoke coldly. You slowly stood up, wondering why the prayer hasn't satisfied him.

"Father....?" You questioned. He gently grabbed you by the shoulders and backed you up against the edge of the marble table, his presence looming over you, entrapping you against your will. He didn't dare touch you, not yet.

As stared at you closely, you knew he was about to do something sinful for he is a priest... Yet you felt no remorse. You were his sacrificial lamb to kill. He leaned in, making you more nervous than you already were. His lips merely inches away, you couldn't help but flutter your eyes to his lips. You were in desperation, he was giving you something you wanted, desired. You felt the resurgence of your fantasies, you couldn't help it, he was taunting you. You couldn't take it anymore.

Soon, you couldn't help yourself, as you leaned your lips closer and closer, your lips softly latched onto his like a desperate puppy. His lips devoured yours relentlessly. He grasped his hand on the nape of your neck. There was a taste of chocolate, a sweetness lingering. His lips tasted of salvation that was soon filled with sin. You were now his. You couldn't help but moan for more to consume you, to drown you and take control of your body. To lose you in his lips. His body pressed against yours tightly. The candles danced against the shadows that surrounded him.

You were all his to worship. All his to cleanse. You began to shiver as you unlatched your lips from his, gently pushing him away. "This is all wrong....." The prohibition of it all made you crave for more. It was taboo as you were abide by a man of god. "Forgive me father... I beg you..." You switch between both of his eyes. You were in the sick of it all, as you begged for his redemption. You knew you couldn't redeem yourself anymore, as you had sinned worse than your own thoughts. His face was almost warm and expressional, his eyes giving away lust. "Let the lord forgive me.... I'll do anything... father." You pleaded. "Anything?" The Priest says low and hypnotic. "Yes...." You gave in.

He smirked softly. Your obedience was all he wanted. With just one more step, his lips would finally surge yours once more. His fingers almost reached your lips but didn't. He kept playing the game of your obedience, enticing your innocence and virtue. His voice grew lower. He was almost whispering his words. "Would you do anything and everything I ask of you without hesitation.....?"

You shook your head hesitantly as he slowly wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck once again, softly gasping a sharp breath from his touch. He was merely inches away from your lips. You felt almost lost in the temptation once again. Those warm and gentle lips only the father possessed, was meeting yours once more. You softly whimpered underneath your breath, your palms clenching the table tighter as they soon travelled along his chest, you could feel the remnants of the cross on his neck, making you feel more guilty as you felt his tongue against yours.

The Priest's soft and gentle hands lingered onto your waistline as he kept his mouth against yours, you could almost faint from your delicate and sensitive touch as soft whimpers escaped.

The only thing that mattered now was your sins that were now about to be committed by the one who was supposed to cleanse it.

His soft touch around your waistline picked you up and placed you onto the marbled table, making you wrap your legs around the priest as you felt him against you. You were wrapped in the heat of the Father's body. His hot breath against your neck, his hands wandering around the curve of your waist.

He was taking control. He began to slowly travel his hand along your thigh, gently caressing his hand along your soft delicate skin. Your breath shuddered with each passing moment. Your moans grew into something more passionate as he reached his fingers higher and higher on your thighs, until he reached to your white linen underwear, you knew you were going to repent for life...

Your sudden shutter of soft moans spilled out of you as he touched you. It was almost sadistic with the way he gazed into your eyes. The Priest gave no mercy as he slipped inside of your underwear and mercilessly rubbed your cunt. Your body began to quiver. Nobody had touched you like this. You were his virgin mary, he knew he would make you pray for more.

He seeped his fingers in. Making you shutter your head backwards as you bit your lip. Your soft whimpering moans grew slightly more as he seeped his fingers more and more inside of you. The innocence you wore was an illusion, you were nothing but a a sinful girl that was taken advantage by the Priest. "More...." You pleaded, moaning in desperation. Grasping the black cloth of his clothes. He took in your request, sinking his fingers deeper and deeper inside the abyss of you, in and out of you. He could almost see tears in your eyes, knowing you wanted to cry because of the guilty pleasure you felt from the sins he was committing, making you the left ruins of a sacrificial lamb in his presence.

You were repenting to him, worshipping him as he made you lose control of all your senses, receiving uncontrollable pleasure from a man devoted to god. You felt yourself lose grip with each kiss you made. You were being cleansed in the ultimate sin. Sin which would send you to hell but you didn't care as the priest was only taking you there for his pleasure, you deserved it as you are the sin itself, you were a disgusting girl. You gasped out more whimpers, unlatching your lips from his suffocation. You started to feel overwhelmed at the pleasure, you wanted no more as you begged. "No more, please...." You softly cried out. He didn't care as he continued to finger you with no remorse, his fingers covered in your cum. He thought how impure you were to have to get wet at the priests touch ever so easily. You kept whimpering, wanting him to stop as you became overstimulated with sensation. His hands only travelled further inside of you as you begged him. You could feel the sensations of shame filling your body for your pleas for him to stop were nothing but begging for more to him. You were his to take. He could make you sin over and over again. Your whimpers was the sound of your repentance to his ears. Your pleas for him to stop were simply fuel to the flames that were burning inside you. You felt your mind slipping as he watched you orgasm, your legs quivering. You tried grabbing his wrist but he continued to pleasure you. You were losing yourself, the innocence was slipping through your fingers, the sins were consuming you. The pleasure was overwhelming you. You couldn't help it. The priest couldn't help it either. Each kiss was bringing you both towards the edge. Your whimpering cries becoming more uncontrollable as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

Soon his fingers slipped out of you as you then fall back against the top of the marble table, twitching as you clasped your knees together, your hands grasping at your pussy. The priest seemed to be done with his baptism. He blinked slowly as he was finally satisfied. He walked around the table, reaching to the other side where your head laid, he overlooked you from above as you notice him towering over you. "You're forgiven for all the sins....." He soon reached his wet cummed covered fingers slowly into your mouth. You whimpered as you didn't want to, but he insisted as this was part of your repentance. You licked them clean, quenching the taste of your own cum.

[hellfirecvnt]

Hallelujah, What a Payday

Baby Billy Freeman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Baby Billy's on the search for his next co-star.

Warnings: Sex with that weird, old man (at the very end.) Religious trauma but with zero detail at all. If I refer to anything as "nonsense" or whatever, that's not about any religion and is only about the silly Gemstone activities.

Notes: Tiffany just doesn't exist here. I love her too much to write that she got left or something. This should've been two parts, but I promised we were gonna fuck him, so. We're also gonna ignore the Baby Billy body-double pp they show in the first episode. Don't even fucking act like that dastardly old man isn't packing.

"Five minutes, Y/N!" The angry stage manager screams backstage. You perfect your lipstick in the mirror and stand to straighten up your ensemble. You sing a few nights a week at a local lounge/venue for extra money. You're a local hit and it pays the bills.

Across the entire building, a man pays his way inside, tired after days of wasted effort. He sighs as he takes a seat, alone in a VIP booth. They're not cheap, but even if he hadn't sat there, anyone can tell he has money just from the way he dresses.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight's entertainment." A smooth voice vibrates over the intercom. You gracefully file out onto the small stage, illuminated well by a single spotlight amongst the mood lighting throughout the lounge. The tired man taps a finger on his table, watching with boredom as he waits for his drink to arrive.

"I'm all out of hope. One more bad dream could bring a fall..." Your voice rings through the air like honey sweetens tea. The lone man at the VIP booth nearly gives himself whiplash with the rate at which he turns to face the source of the illustrious talent. You continue to sing your cover, and slowly he begins to recognize the song.

Your eyes meet his, as you do at every show to engage with the audience.

"It's easy to deceive. It's easy to tease," you slide your hands down your sides, swaying back and forth sensually for this verse. "But hard to get release."

The pianist serves as backup vocals, delivering the iconic lyrics: "Les yeux sans visage."

"Eyes without a face; got no human grace. You're eyes without a face." Your vocals swell and the man stares at you, inspired. His mouth hangs agape with a hopeful smile.

After you finish your set of five songs, you take a small bow and excuse yourself to the bar. The well-dressed man all but trips over himself as he scrambles to meet you over there.

"Double vodka cran, please, Henry." You tell the bartender and he nods, starting your order.

"That's some voice you got there, darlin'." The man appears next to you, smiling a large, white, evangelical grin.

"Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

"Well, I more than enjoyed it. You got yourself a gift, now." The man extends his hand. "I'm Baby Billy."

"Baby?" You look at him, perplexed. He explains his backstory a little, insisting you should at least know who his sister is.

"You ain't never heard of Aimee-Leigh Gemstone?"

"Of course I have, I just don't listen to a lot of gospel." You shrug, truthfully hoping the conversation could end there.

"Well, darlin', do you ever sing gospel?" His eyes twinkle in the dimly lit bar area.

"I don't think that'd fare well for me here. This place looks fancy, it's costly to get in, but it's just a bar at the end of the day. No one wants to be preached to." You take a sip of your drink and he watches you closely, noting the pout of your lips as you press them to the glass.

"No, not here. Here." He lies a pamphlet out in front of you, sliding it closer along the bar. "I'm the head preacher at the new church in Locust Grove. Opens in a month."

"A man of God, huh?" You mumble as you skim over the pamphlet. "Does this gig pay?"

"God never asked us to exploit our talents for free." Baby Billy grins. You look him up and down. He's a walking red flag, but it's clear he's got money and as a broke woman on your own, you can never have enough.

"I'm free on weekends. I'll adjust my availability when I know you're serious." You say, stone-faced. Baby Billy hands you his card, passing it smoothly between his index and middle finger. You take it and stand from the bar, walking away, and disappearing into the green room to prepare for another set in an hour. He watches you, still sporting a wide smile as you stand. His eyebrows twitch in short-lived confusion. He pushes all that aside, only one thing matters now. He has his co-star.

Friday afternoon rolls around and Baby Billy attends your show, beaming at you from his expensive, empty VIP booth. He's practically got dollar signs for pupils.

"Friday is a weekday, Billy." You call over your shoulder as you excuse yourself to the bar.

"Baby Billy," he corrects, clinging to his childhood fame with all he has. "It's a brand, now. And who said I'm here for work? Can't a man just enjoy the show?" He follows you to the bar, taking a seat next to you.

"Well, did you enjoy it?" You turn to him with an amused smile. "The show?"

"It was even better the second time around."

"Thank you, Baby Billy," you say, with a knowing emphasis on 'baby.' "I guess I'll be calling you tomorrow, then."

"I'll be ready when you are, darlin'." He smiles warmly and you begin to wonder if you'll ever see him without that goofy, toothy grin stretched across his face.

Saturday morning, you're up, bright and early. You think nothing of the process of getting ready, throwing on a T-shirt and jeans along with various accessories you only get to wear on your days off, so you take every chance.

"This ain't a repeat of that... Lost soul you brought in last time, is it?" Eli settles back in his seat. He's sitting in one of the thousands of seats in the Gemstone Auditorium along with his three children, Judy, Jesse, and Kelvin. Baby Billy stands before them.

"No, damn, Eli. She's perfect for the job. She's got the face, she's got the voice, and most importantly, she's got stage presence." Baby Billy makes a grand case, convincing the Gemstone family that he's found an angel on Earth. Which is why it's all the more shocking when you walk in looking like an entirely different person than the woman he met at the lounge.

Everyone falls silent, they turn to face you as you walk through the door. The second you come into clear view, Judy Gemstone does a poor job of stifling a hateful chortle. Baby Billy meets you halfway, keeping you off to the side before you're front and center in front of everyone.

"The fuck you look like that for?" He asks with a peculiar sense of genuine confusion/ curiosity.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think it'd be a dress rehearsal." You narrow your eyes, placing a hand on your hip.

"When you called me this morning I thought I made it clear what kind of... Environment you might find yourself in." He waves his hands around as he says this.

"Is this an audition or did you scout me out?" You ask with a smirk, looking him up and down.

"Well, hear me out, now. Because if it were up to me, you're hired. But you need to hop up on there and prove to these assholes that I know what I'm doing."

"Playing dress up costs extra," You whisper. Without leaving time for him to respond, you walk ahead of him and confidently offer a handshake to Eli. The two of you become acquainted and he welcomes you to the stage.

As you step out onto the grand platform, it's awkwardly empty. You find yourself almost nervous, which is out of character for you. You've been performing since you were young.

"What am I singing for you today, Dr. Gemstone?" You ask, sensing a little bit of decorum could go a long way here.

"Looks like she's about to start blasting Rob fuckin' Zombie," Jesse, the oldest Gemstone son, quips under his breath. You narrow your eyes at him, clocking his appearance on the spot.

"I think I know what you wanna hear," you smile politely, pointing directly at Jesse. After a quick speed walk to the sound tech, you queue up the track for the song you've chosen. The music starts, and the two youngest Gemstone siblings burst into laughter. Even Eli chuckles.

"Hello, Darlin'. Nice to see you," you start. "It's been a long time, you're just as lovely as you used to be." The joke about Jesse's appearance quickly fizzles away as the Gemstones take in your voice. Baby Billy stands off to the side, gauging their reaction, absolutely elated.

"I told you he was trying to be Conway fuckin' Twitty," Judy whispers to Kelvin.

"Come back Darlin'. I'll be waiting for you..." You finish your song and take an unserious bow. You secure the job, and Eli even commends Baby Billy for finding you. After researching the Gemstones a little bit the night before, you quickly begin to realize how much money you could potentially make here.

"That was fantastic! That old fucker didn't think I could do it," Baby Billy gushes.

"And what did you do, just now?" You side-eye him.

"I found a star." He emphasizes his words with his hands. He's a charismatic and handsome man even given his older age.

"What's next? I'm sure this next month will be pretty busy with rehearsals." You laugh, already contemplating quitting your recurring lounge gig.

"Well, sure. We'll put in the work and all, but," he looks at you expectantly.

"What?" You ask, but he only gestures with his hand as if you should've caught on by now. "Oh, Baby Billy. I don't know if I'll be attending church tomorrow. I'm um, not a Christian."

"Huh," he says, dryly. You scrunch your nose, awaiting an uncomfortable lecture. "You work in this industry for so long, you forget some people aren't religious." He shrugs and you feel a sense of relief.

"I'm not busy today. Care to show me around the Locust Grove church? It's nice to know what I'm going into." He holds the door for you as you step out into the bright parking lot.

"I'd love nothing more." He grins.

At the Locust Grove location, you're wowed by the remodeled mall-turned-megachurch. He gives you the grand tour, specifying that you'd have your own area to get ready before each service.

"This is... A lot," you laugh.

"You're about to make it much more, darlin'." He ushers you up to the stage with him. "Let's give it a go, see how we sound together."

"What song are you thinking?"

"You don't know any gospel?" He peeks over his glasses at you.

"Not really," you shrug. "Well, I know Angel Band and I know Down to The River to Pray from that movie I like."

"Good fuckin' God." He sighs. "Down to The River." He counts off and starts the first verse. His voice is southern, crisp, and clear. You quickly decide in your head what fashion of singing would best compliment his. The chorus approaches and you ready your breath.

"Oh, sisters, let's go down. Let's go down, come on down," your voices melt together pleasingly. You can tell by the look on his face that he likes what he hears. The song ends for the two of you after that first chorus, that's all he needed to hear.

"It's about time something worked out for ol' Baby Billy," he shakes his head. "Now, the next matter to discuss is... Wardrobe."

"Yeah, I figured 'sunday best' would cut it, right?"

"Well, not quite." He leads you to a room past the storage area full of broken, useless mannequins. He walks up to a large armoire and pulls it open. Inside is one dress. It's wrapped in a layer of protective plastic that's done wonders to preserve it. It's campy and dated, though you can tell it was high dollar fashion for its time.

"Baby Billy, I'm not wearing this." You look at him, as if hoping he'll tell you he's joking.

"What? Why not? Now that was Aimee-Leigh's favorite dress," he glances back and forth from you and the dress.

"Okay and it's beautiful, but it looks like it's a hundred years old." You look at the striking piece of clothing again. "This is helpful, though. If this is the kind of look you wanna go for, I think I can make it work."

The two of you spend the rest of your time in the unopened church getting acquainted. You find him charming and entertaining. He finds you beautiful and unintentionally hilarious. You make him laugh often. It's like his own personal ray of sunshine on his shoulder.

It's late when you head to leave. You hardly noticed how long you'd been there. As you open the door to the dark parking lot, you turn to bid Baby Billy goodbye.

"Well, hold on, now, darlin'. Let me walk you to your car." He follows you out the door and to your vehicle. You roll the window down to thank him for the job, pulling your seatbelt over your head.

"I'll see you...?" You wait for him to tell you what day he plans to start practice.

"Monday afternoon, if you can make it." He places a hand on the roof of your car. "Now, listen. I know you ain't the religious type-"

"I will see you Monday, Baby Billy." You interrupt before he has the chance to invite you to church tomorrow. He shrugs, waving to you as you drive off.

That night, as you shower, you wonder if you were too rude with your rejection of his invitation. After all, you grew up going to church. Certainly not a mega church, but a church regardless. It's not a chapter of your youth and adolescence that you hold dear, hence your inclination to stay away from it all.

You set an alarm and wake up early Sunday morning... To get ready for church. You take this outing as a chance to demonstrate to Baby Billy and all the Gemstones that while your personal style may not mesh with their vibe, you've always had a way of blending in.

You put on a white dress with statement sleeves. Something to play off of the whole "voice of an angel" shtick. After perfecting the rest of the look, you leave with a satisfied smile.

You walk through the large double doors to the "Gemstone Worship Center" and look around. It's needlessly gigantic and overwhelming to take in.

"Y/N, is that you, darlin'?" Baby Billy's voice grounds you back on Earth. You turn to face him and he raises his eyebrows, shocked by your range of appearances. "Don't you look pretty this morning?" He grins, admiring your pearly glow in the white garment. He's elated to see you there. Not because he thinks you need church, but because he wanted to see you.

He introduces you to a few colleagues, and even Eli Gemstone reintroduces himself, shocked to learn you're the same woman from yesterday.

"Who is this with you today?" A tall, bald man with a thick African accent asks with a warm smile.

"Now, this is my girl, Y/N," Baby Billy gestures to you like a grand prize. Something about the title "his girl" makes your stomach flip, and you're not sure how you feel about that. "She'll be performing with me at Locust Grove."

The theatrical, pretentious service is long, loud, and feels uncomfortable the entire time, so it's hard to keep your mind and eye from wandering to anything else. Often, you glance at Baby Billy. He's brought you to his seats in the front area, so it's hard to drown the music out entirely, but everything does seem to muffle when you're staring down the white-haired enigma of a man before you.

After service, Baby Billy invites you to join the family at a restaurant called Jason's. You're hesitant at first, but Eli insists. When you arrive, the Gemstones are escorted to a level above the restaurant to a private section for their own VIP dining experience. It's frivolous to you, but it's nice to do something different for once.

After church lunch, the entire group congregates in the parking lot, saying their goodbyes and making promises to see each other next week. You smile politely, though a bit awkward, as you don't really know anyone besides Baby Billy.

"Nice get up, Rob Zombie." Judy Gemstone appears beside you, seemingly complimenting you, but she's just as confused as you are.

"Thank you, Judy. I just wanted to show that I know how to fit into a crowd."

"Yeah, well. You're not so bad, up there, on stage." Her tone sounds like she's accosting you, but her words sound genuine. As if she's not sure how to... Just be nice without intimidation tactics. "Singer to singer, don't let Uncle Baby Billy ride your coattails too hard." She struts off, linking arms with her husband and loading up into their lavish vehicles.

You feel a sense of comfort now, knowing Judy is just like that. It's nice to know you have another woman in the mix that you can look to as an acquaintance. Slowly, but surely, you find yourself melding into the atmosphere that follows people like Baby Billy around. You begin to feel more comfortable around the rest of the church leaders, though you realize rather quickly that there isn't much talk about God. It's nice.

As the weeks go by, you meet up with Baby Billy for practice every day. It's not the schedule you meant to give him, you just find yourself wanting to see him more and more. You delight in the strange way he talks and his charming mannerisms. You also think it's really funny when something goes wrong and he's suddenly not grandpa sunshine anymore, and he's kicking a speaker calling it a dick.

As the rehearsal window comes to a close, you and your co-star are inseparably close. On more than one occasion, one of you has slipped up and gotten a little too comfortable.

"Baby Billy, why does the mirror say something about washing my hands keeping me safe from Satan?" You ask, returning from the restrooms.

"That was song lyrics from back in mine and Aimee-Leigh's day," he laughs.

"Well, how do clean hands keep me safe in the eyes of the Lord?" You furrow your brow, in disbelief that anyone could believe this. Baby Billy is tinkering with the stage lights as they two of you converse.

"Well," he says, still messing with the light. "Just like those hands can commit sins, they can be washed clean by his mercy." He chuckles as if he already knows he's going to overstep. "Those look like sinner hands to me, darlin'." He winks.

"Sinner hands?"

"Ain't you ever done anything with those hands? Something the Lord might not smile upon?" He continues with his back to you, finally flicking on the light after his adjustments. Your face is hot and red with the realization of what he meant.

"Oh, yeah. I guess so." You shrug. Baby Billy turns to face you, taking a few steps closer. He's a good deal taller than you, so his lanky frame looms over you in a way that makes your stomach flip. He's barely a foot away, smiling down at you.

"You guess so," he repeats, tilting his head and grinning, letting the silence thicken for a moment. You give up on trying to fight back the blush in your cheeks, there is no way around it.

"Well, I guess let's get back to it," you clap your hands once in front of you as if to break up this moment and you take your position. Baby Billy just laughs and leaves you with a lingering confusion. The rest of the day, you can't seem to keep your head clear. A flip has switched and you find yourself lusting after this televangelist old man.

The two of you wrap up rehearsals for the day, but instead of leaving, you linger behind a little longer. You're unsure if it's nerves telling you to practice more, or if it's just you wanting to be around him.

"Next week is opening day," Baby Billy grins. The excitement is clear on his face with that brilliant, big smile. He takes a seat next to you and you both face the large, beautifully lit and decorated stage.

"That fast, huh?" You chuckle, trying to laugh away the knot in your throat so you don't have to swallow it.

"You're gonna be great up there," he says, catching you off guard. He seems to have mistaken your unexpected attraction as pre-show nerves. "Right next to ol' Baby Billy Freeman. This is a big break for you."

"Oh, it is?" You laugh.

"Look, I'm serious, now. The right ears hear us and we're signed and touring," he snaps his fingers. "Like that!"

"You sure you could handle being on the road with me? I'm kind of a diva," you joke. "If I don't get my beauty sleep, I look like a dead bug and I'll hit someone." Baby Billy bursts into laughter.

"I don't think a lack of sleep or even a semi-truck could deter what you've got goin', sweetheart."

"What do you mean?" You ask through a laugh.

"You're a looker, darlin'. You walk into a room and draw everybody's eye." His hands are animated as he speaks.

"Oh, yes. Flattery will get you everywhere," you laugh, lightly shoving his arm playfully.

"I mean it, now. You the prettiest girl I know." He shrugs.

"You're not so bad yourself." You smirk, leaning closer to him than you realized. He notices the closing gap and can't help himself, he leans toward you as well. Time seems to slow down just for a moment as you two share this closeness.

He glances at your lips, and then back up to your eyes. Your heart begins to race before the sudden, loud crash of the stage light Baby Billy messed with hitting the stage with great weight. You both sit up, startled by the sound, jumping away from the close quarters you'd just been in.

"Oh, uh," you regain your grip, realizing what poor business practice has just nearly taken place. You've fucked your boss before. You know it doesn't end well... "I should get going."

You stand and readjust your skirt, smiling nervously as you start toward the door. Baby Billy stands too, hopelessly searching for his next sentence, but for the first time in his life, he seems unable to find the words.

"Same time tomorrow, darlin'," he calls out to you as you step out the door. He takes a step over to the stage, sitting down and exhaling a big breath. What an old fool he'd have to be to think you'd want anything to do with him when you're so young-spirited and beautiful? Will that stop him? No. It won't.

The last few days leading up to the grand opening are full of those small, close encounters. One day, you tripped during dance practice and practically landed in his arms. You two locked eyes and it would've been done for right then if a janitor hadn't walked through the stage door. Another time, you were high up on a ladder, making Baby Billy hold it steady out of fear. The entire time you're above him in your dress rehearsal skirt, he can't seem to fight the perverted urge to glance up. When he does, he nearly loses his bearings. His face ignites red and he can't help but smile ear to ear.

It's no secret to either of you that some kind of tension has been brewing. Even the Gemstone siblings share a look of confusion when they see you two forget anyone else is in the room. Neither of you seems to notice how long your eye will linger on the other.

The Sunday of the Church's debut sneaks up on you after the last few days of having nothing but Baby Billy on the brain. You're less nervous about performing and more nervous about seeing him again. It's as if every time you two come together, the palpable tension in the air becomes thicker. You're certain you'll lose the ability to breathe the air around you if it gets any worse.

"You ready to make some magic, darlin'?" An excited Baby Billy startles you as he intrusively enters your dressing room.

"My God, don't you knock? I could've been naked," you laugh, perfecting your makeup in the mirror.

"I don't think you'd hear any protest from me, sweetheart." He winks and makes a quick getaway. To be honest, he wasn't quite meaning to say that part out loud. You're left red-faced and pleasantly shocked. The comments between the two of you have been growing more bold by the day, but that one takes the cake... So far.

You get dressed in your opening night outfit. It's a bit different than the one you wore to rehearsals. It's nicer, fancier, flashier, without all the dated glitz of Aimee-Leigh's 80's-esque dress that Baby Billy attempted to lend you.

It hadn't occurred to you that Baby Billy hadn't seen this outfit of yours. But his beaming, smiling face when the two of you step out in front of the crowd from opposite ends of the stage gives you a needed stroke of your ego. He holds an arm out to you, inviting you to his side as he introduces you and himself. It was established early in the arrangement that he'd do most of the talking, so you put on your best "quiet and pretty" act. You clap when the crowd claps, and you throw your hands up in "praise" when it seems appropriate.

Anyone who'd met you before this performance is genuinely confused by who they're watching right now. They expected you to give a hell of a singing show, they didn't expect you to play the full part so well. As you told them, you know how to blend in. The surge of energy that comes with any performance this in-depth carries you throughout the whole service.

With each song you sing, with or without Baby Billy, you cannot stop yourself from looking at him, over and over. Fuck the tension, something is building up inside of you and the adrenaline of the stage is only making it worse, for both of you.

Baby Billy bids the crowd farewell and you give a gentle wave as the two of you exit the stage, arm in pining arm. The very second the stage exit door closes behind you, muffling the sounds of the cheering and dispersing crowd, you and Baby Billy fall still, silent, and stare at each other for barely one breathless second and then your lips are on his. You both stumble for a moment before he steadies you, pressing you up against the nearest wall.

"God damn, Y/N," he whispers between hungry kisses. You pull away for just a second, just enough time to ask a question.

"My dressing room or yours?" Baby Billy answers that inquiry by reconnecting his lips to yours and guiding your intertwined bodies to his dressing room. It's the closest. The two of you stumble through the door and straight to the lengthy couch meant to make the room look more glamorous. He lies you back on the cushions and his two careful hands begin to wander.

"Darlin, you look incredible in this get-up," he huffs. "But I can't wait till I get it off of you." He quickly unfastens the buttons of your blouse and groans roughly just at the sight of your lacey bra-clad breasts. Soft, breathy moans escape your lips over and over as he gropes at you and grinds against you. "Now, you don't mind where this is goin', do ya?"

"No, shut up," you chuckle, pulling his mouth back to yours. Your hands rake through his hair and find their way down to his expensive, flashy belt buckle. He sits back on the couch, legs hanging off with his Italian leather shoes resting on the floor. He spreads his knees and you take your position between them. You're breathless with excitement as you free his erection from his slacks. The moment you wrap a hand around his shaft, you feel him still growing harder in your hand.

"God damn it," he sighs, tossing his head back against the couch. He wraps one hand in your hair, guiding your lips toward the head of his cock. "Come on, now. Don't make me beg for it." You chuckle at his eagerness, but you do as he says, wrapping your lips around his tip. Baby Billy sighs with relief as you slowly welcome him into your mouth. He gasps as you press your nose to his waist, taking his full length in your throat.

You bob your head up and down, still riding an adrenaline high that's enough to power through even the worst of neck cramps. He calls out small exclamations and whispers sensual praise, all of which makes the heat between your thighs burn hotter.

His moans become more and more vocal until he roughly pulls your head away, jerking you by the hair. You gasp at the pain, but it only fuels your fire.

"Get on up here, now. Let an ol' man get his kicks," he quips, helping you out of the floor before you take your place, lying before him on the couch. He buries his face in your neck, kissing away up and down your flesh as he continues undressing you. He unfastens the rest of the buttons on your blouse, slipping a hand under your bra and squeezing your breast eagerly.

"Come on, don't make me beg for it," you mimic his words, sliding your skirt up your legs, and exposing your panties. They're wet with arousal and he grins at the sight.

"I might just like to hear a pretty young thing like you beg to get fucked by the pastor." He grins deviously, pressing a gentle hand to your clit over the panties. "All this for me?" He chuckles, basking in the effect he has on you. After what feels like ages of teasing and edging, he slips the drenched underwear from your legs. The white-haired man stares in awe at your throbbing core, extending a hand to play with you.

He slips one digit inside you, earning a filthy, needy moan from your chest. Your mouth hangs agape with a gasp as he pumps his finger in and out of you, staring deeply into your shining eyes. He shakes his head, amused by his power over you and also in disbelief at the position he's in at this moment. Just a month ago you were a stranger with a beautiful voice on a stage he'd never taken a second look at. Since then, you've been the object of all his desires. How could he ever imagine you'd feel the same?

"Oh, my God! Please," you whine, arching your back as he fingers you. He chuckles, unsure how he's holding himself back. It must be how much he's enjoying the show.

"Shhh," he whispers, adding another finger. Guttural moans of heated pleasure pour from your lips like a waterfall. He eats up every second of it.

"You're doin' real good, now, darlin'." He positions his twitching erection at your aching entrance, playing with your arousal with the head of his cock. "Keep being good for me," he says as he slips himself inside. A long, needy cry escapes you as he slowly sinks to his hilt.

You stare up at him, locking eyes as his mouth hangs slightly open. He's breathless as your tightness squeezes him just right.

"Aw, damn, sweetheart," he groans, pulling back only to quickly slide back in. "You're somethin' else." He grunts and moans as he thrusts in and out of you, hastily picking up his pace. For an older man, he's incredibly virile. He fucks you for what feels like hours but is surely only a handful of steamy minutes. You squirm and whine beneath him as he steadily guides you to your climax.

"I- I'm-" you try to speak, but it's too late, he's fucking you into oblivion, riding out your high with a bright white, goofy smile on his face. He loves watching your face contort as you soak him with your orgasm.

"I hope you ain't done yet, sweetheart," he chuckles, sliding out of you. "Flip on over, now, darlin'. Let me get a look at that perfect ass you got." His praise ignites a wave of goosebumps across your skin. You do as he says, turning over and assuming a position on all fours, presenting yourself to him perfectly. He releases a breathy laugh, slapping both hands down on each ass cheek.

Baby Billy tightens his grip on your glutes and fervently tugs at you until you're lined up with his swollen cock. He slips inside you again, thrusting away at maximum pace. Your ass jiggles as he slams into you and he's hypnotized by the sight. His goofy grin has fallen to a serious expression as he chases his climax. He mumbles curse words and praise under his breath while pressing your back downward to amplify your arch.

"God damn, just look at you," he huffs, coming closer and closer to completion. "Whatever you want, Y/N, just say the word," he grunts between heavy breaths. "And it's yours, darlin'." You laugh at the way he offers you the world just from how good he feels inside you. It's a high compliment.

"B- Ba-!" You attempt to beg for mercy, but he's quick to cut you off.

"Shh, shh, now, sweetheart. Just... A little more," he groans, quickening his thrusts as he ends his sentence. He slams into you impossibly hard, incredibly fast, with both hands hooked around your waist. You release sensual cries of pleasure as he chases and finally catches his climax.

He withdraws from you, breathless and sweating. A string of lusty moans drips from his lips as he strokes himself until he finishes all over your ass. He stutters out a grunt before collapsing back on the couch. You're breathless, fucked out with your face buried in the cushion. The two of you fall silent for a moment as you catch your breath.

"Baby Billy?" You break the silence.

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"Could you pass me, um, a towel?"

"Oh!" He scrambles to his feet, tucking away his softening length. His unfastened belt jingles as he makes his way across his dressing room and grabs a towel from the neat, little stack of hand towels. "Allow me," he whispers, still catching his breath, as he wipes your skin clean, allowing you to comfortably collapse as well. He joins you on the couch, buckling his belt and straightening up his suit.

"That was... Amazing..." You sigh, somehow a little shocked at how well he just fucked you.

"It certainly was, Y/N. It certainly was." He lies back on the couch, allowing his eyes to fall shut. A hand reaches up to fix his disheveled hair. "Let's get them drawers back on you, now. We're late for Church Lunch."

You regain your composure and fix your clothes, sliding your panties back up under your skirt. After fixing your hair and your smudged makeup, you're ready to head to Jason's. You and Baby Billy arrive a few minutes after everyone else, and you take your seats next to each other. The table seems to grow quiet when you two join.

"Don't everybody start talkin' at once, now." Baby Billy looks up and down to both ends of the table. "What'd we miss?"

"From the sound of it, you didn't miss anything, Uncle Baby Billy," Judy scoffs. Baby Billy gives you a knowing look, grinning at you sweetly.

"No, Judy, I did not." He beams, proudly, placing an arm around your shoulder and planting a kiss on the side of your forehead.

•••••

Taglist: @justme12200 //

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋.

DAY THREE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: priest au + “worship me. until i tell you to stop.”

pairing: priest!ezra x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, dark content

summary: after a breakup, you find solaca at the local church. there, you meet father ezra.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: dubcon, manipulation, brief mention of reader going through a breakup, reader having a brief anxiety attack, reader having confidence issues, loneliness, messy blowjob, degradation, leg humping, dirty talk, facial, power imbalance, dumbification if you squint, use of whore, religious themes, this is written for horny purposes only, priest kink, a lot of 'yes father's and 'forgive me father's

Comfort is what leads you to your local church.  

You wouldn’t exactly say you’re a believer, but coming to the church and sticking wishing candles into the sandy surface was one of your finest memories from your childhood. You enjoy the chocolaty smell of the wooden benches, the stained large panes of the windows that cast vibrant rainbows upon the polished floor when the sun hits them just right. 

When you sit on the bench, surrounded by a calm dimness and silent prayers, you feel contented, like the world outside doesn’t exist. 

You feel lonely out there in the modern world, especially after your breakup, which was the turning point that led you to the adorned wooden doors of the church in the first place. It wasn’t a messy breakup, still, it left you in shambles. He’d moved on so quickly. Just picking up his clothes and throwing them into the bag before he left. It broke your heart if you’re being honest. He was never overly affectionate or necessarily cared about the things you cared about, but it was better than being utterly alone. 

Just a little bit of comfort. That’s all you want. Just a sense of belonging. 

Here at the church, the sense of commune affects you, even if you’re not exactly a part of it. 

Sitting at the edge of the bench, you look up. The church is empty today due to the heavy downpour, there’s only one more person other than you. They’re busy in prayer so you don’t stare at them for long, not wanting to be rude. 

Your eyes move away from the person, they linger on the confessionals. You always found the idea appealing in some twisted way. As if asking for forgiveness from some random man will solve all your problems. You never went it, always feeling too paranoid that someone might hear how stupid you sound. 

The person finishes their prayer, and as they walk down the middle, you notice it was a youngish man, his hair stuck to his forehead. His steps echo, a second later the sound of his departure rings dull against the cold walls. 

You rise slowly, eyes once again fixed on the booths. They’re barely noticeable thanks to how dimly lit the church is, and with no sun there’s little light to guide you. 

You’re not even sure a Father will assist you when you open the door to the small space. It creaks loudly and your skin crawls. You’re hesitant, yet you still climb inside and take a seat. It’s small, dark, and smells overwhelmingly of wood. It’s oddly comforting. 

You’re unsure what to do with yourself until you hear the door opening and closing from the other side of the booth. 

“Welcome. I am Father Ezra, and I am here to listen, guide, and offer you the grace of God's forgiveness. As sunlit moments blend with shadows, so too do our lives weave intricate tales of both frailty and strength. With open ears and an open heart, I beckon you to unburden your spirit. When you're ready, please share your thoughts, knowing that your words are heard in the spirit of compassion and understanding.” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. He doesn’t rush his speech, taking time as if every sentence is a story of its own. It’s so smooth, enticing, beckoning you to pour all the darkness that lingers around your heart. You’re surprised to find yourself wanting to hear more of that honey-dipped voice. 

Father Ezra, you’ve heard his name before and from afar, even laid eyes on him. You can barely remember what he looks like now though. You certainly never heard him during sermons, you would’ve definitely remembered his voice if you had. 

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when you hear a creak and a soft flutter of a robe. 

“Sorry,” you say, quick and silent. “This is my first time doing this and I didn’t really have a prepared thing in mind.” 

His soft chuckle echoes—god, why does he sound so good? 

“Sweet, lost, little bird, you do not need to rush it. You can start by introducing yourself. Tell me your name.” 

A shudder that starts from your toes claws all the way up to your spine. All he did was ask your name, yet, it feels like he’s asking for something drastic like your life. You swallow around the know in your throat, lowering your gaze even though there’s no one that can see you. 

You give him your name and something you can’t discern shifts in the air. 

“What a lovely name,” he hums. “Now tell me, what troubles you on this rainy day.” 

“Nothing specific,” a sigh parts your lips, and again, a creak comes through the other side. Your skin prickles. You can feel as if his eyes can see through the thin wall that separates you both. “I’m feeling a bit lonely. I—I went through a break up a couple of weeks ago and. . . I guess I can’t help but feel it’s my fault somehow.” 

You wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t, you continue. 

“This might sound dumb—” 

“There is no such thing,” you can almost hear the smile in his voice. “There’s no shame in asking for guidance and forgiveness.” 

“There were these things. . . that he said about me. Things like I was too needy, too dependent, and too much overall. And I feel like it’s true because no one ever seems to stay with me,” you let out a bitter chuckle as tears begin to well in your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m like this, maybe—maybe God is punishing me for a sin I don’t know and i-if that’s the case, Father, I seek forgiveness.” 

A breath. A low, violent exhale of breath. Your eyes flit to the grille, a pair of plush lips now visible through the tightly made slats. 

“You ask for forgiveness, atonement, yet do you actually believe?” he coos, voice low. 

“I don’t,” you answer a bit too quickly and blood boils under your nails. “I–I mean I don’t know.” 

“How do you expect me to help when you doubt the lord’s existence, little one?” Despite the provocative question, you see the faint curve of his smile through the darkness. “Are you desperate?” 

“I didn’t mean to offend,” you say quietly. The rain pour had begun again, drowning out the rest of the sound. “I’ve been coming here ever since the breakup. I enjoy watching people pray and smile, looking comforted. I just thought that if I did this, that comfort would extend to me as well. I’m sorry.” 

“The comfort is fleeting when you don’t believe it to be true,” he murmurs, ignoring your apology. “If you seek guidance, I can help you understand better and maybe then you’ll receive the comfort and the forgiveness that you crave oh so deeply.”

There’s a mocking lilt to his tone that you decide to ignore. It feels only right when you had outwardly said that you didn’t believe in the man’s religion. 

With an open heart, you accept his offer of guidance. 

You visit his office almost every night. 

You found yourself enjoying the church even more after hours. Ezra became a friend, which didn’t surprise you because that man had an essence about him that would charm the pants off of any devil that he might encounter. You guys did bible studies together and talked about other religions as well, and what it means to understand the words inscribed and given to the people. It was interesting to listen to. He would even give you assignments sometimes, telling you to read a specific paper or book. It felt like being at school again. He’d given you something you thought you had lost forever; A sense of purpose. 

It didn’t hurt that he was a sight to look at. His dark brown eyes always held a certain mischief to them, lighting up in amusement whenever you said anything peculiar. 

You knew it was cliche to have a crush on a priest, yet here you were, wagging an imaginary tail whenever he praised you for doing a good job. 

But tonight is not one of those days you feel all giddy and excited to see him. You enter the wide halls of the church and take a sharp turn towards his office, all you sense is impending doom, your insides riddled with anxiety. You’re shaking, barely able to feel your legs as you walk. 

When you enter, his eyes look up from the papers that lay in front of him, his gaze momentarily dropping to where your dress ends, then back up. His brows furrowing instantly at your heavy breathing, “Little bird, what’s wrong?” 

“Everything!” you exclaim, heaving a breath. “Everything is wrong—I’m wrong—I—fuck—” 

Ezra clears his throat in warning, “Language,” he says with a click of his tongue. 

“Sorry, Father.” you look down in shame, your hands balled into tight fists as you fight the urge to pace around his office. “I just—” 

He cuts you off, “Why don’t you take a seat and tell me what happened?” he smiles kindly. “And maybe you can stop shaking while you’re at it.” 

You nod as you take a seat. Your heart continuously rams against your ribcage and you can barely breathe, your throat convulsing in agony. Ezra gestures to you to look at him. When you do, he takes a deep inhale, making a demonstration in showing how his chest expands and contracts, his hand following the movement as if on waves. 

You breathe with him, the oxygen that fills your lungs calming you. 

“Good,” he hums. “Now tell me what happened.” 

“I saw him today. My—My ex,” you shook your head, reliving the moment. “He’s already seeing someone, which is fine if he was just honest about it. It’s some girl from work, the same girl I asked him about when he moved out,” a hiccup parts your sentence and you continue, your eyes dropping away from Ezra’s. “I said ‘is it her, do you like someone else’ and he said no. He pretended not to recognize me, even though his girlfriend did. I could see it in her eyes but he just walked past me, like I never existed.” 

A sole tear trickles down your cheek and you wipe it away with your sleeve, sniffling. When you feel another, you repeat the motion, finding solace in the softness of the fabric. “I’m an idiot,” you say, still not looking at him. “What am I even doing here? I should try to face reality not escape it in some—some church.” 

You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. The church had helped you when you needed it most, it had given you Ezra, most of all. But you couldn’t help the words, you’re angry. Furious. You feel invisible out there, but here, here people recognize you, and ask where you’ve been when you came back the other day. It’s good to know that if you disappear some people would wonder about you. 

Ezra’s voice rings in your ear, and without even understanding the words he’s saying, you’re looking up. 

“Let’s try something,” he says probably again. “Come here.” 

You’re slightly confused but obliged. He pushes his chair slightly back, making some room between him and the desk. Your eyes drop to the end of his robes, two shiny shoes peaking from underneath. 

“Get on your knees.” 

You snort, “Excuse me?” 

“It’s going to calm you,” he says. “Do you trust me?” 

Your lips part with a faint gasp, you don’t blink as your eyes search his. There’s a tranquility in his expression that makes your heart throb. “Of course, Father,” you get on your knees. 

“Good girl,” he pats his thigh. “Now lay your head.” 

You do so without question this time, appreciating the firmness of muscle under your head. A moment passes, awkwardness starting to settle in, then you feel his fingers touching the back of your neck and gradually they move up to your scalp. Humming a gentle melody, he starts to stroke your hair, massaging your head as he went along. A deep sigh comes from the depths of your lungs, your nerves humming, your rigid muscles finally relax. 

“You’ve been doing so well these past couple of weeks,” he says, a hint of amusement lingering in his voice. “You’ve been learning, little bird, but you still have much to learn. The church is part of the real world, you haven’t been doing nothing.” 

Listening to him so intently, he sends shivers down your spine, the thickness of arousal pooling between your legs. He drags blunt nails down your scalp and comes down to your nape to squeeze from both sides. You’re embarrassed of the moan that rattles your throat but he doesn’t seem to mind it. You lean closer, pressing your cheek further against his leg. 

“Isn’t this nice?” he asks without needing the answer. “You, my obedient girl, listening and eager to please. You’ll always feel like this when you’re with me. No anxiety, no need to compete and try to accomplish something when all you want to do is. . . relax. . .” 

His voice had dropped to a whisper, every word a gentle caress to your skin. Eyes fluttering close, you only focus on the ups and downs of his voice, your body reacting to every stop and turn. The fabric of your underwear dampens, your folds becoming slicker the more you inch towards him. You ache for your fingers—or better yet his cock—but he isn’t allowed to touch you is he? 

You try to remember the lessons in celibacy but can’t seem to remember any of them. 

Your tighs instinctively press together, the brief friction doing little in dousing the wildfires between your legs. You wiggle a bit closer, his voice nothing but a siren song now. 

Ezra notices the constant movement, his fingers slip under your chin, and drags your eyes up to face him. Your breath hitches. The faint moonlight that trickles through the windows behind him cast his face in complete shadow, his features hardening with darkness. He slips his foot between your legs, the floor creaking under the sole of his shoe, “Now, why can’t you stay still when I’m trying so hard to soothe you, little bird?” 

He lifts the point of his shoe, the leather pressing directly against your throbbing clit. A surprised whimper rips from your throat, your body shaking as he drags the leather tip down. Your insides clench with want, with a primal need that you can’t seem to understand. 

You’re haunted by his words and the darkness that lurks in his eyes. Despite yourself, you press yourself up against his leg like some animal. You can’t seem to stop staring at him. And by the way he pushes his shoe further into you, borderline on almost being painful, you don’t think he minds either. 

Your eyes flutter as he parts his robe, your gaze immediately drops to the outline of his cock that’s visible. Your mouth waters. 

“Worship me,” he unbuttons himself with expertise but leaves it at that. “Until I tell you to stop.”

His leg still between your legs, you pull out his cock. The tip is an angry shade of red, precum dotting at the tip, without much thought you lean over and dip your tongue, tasting him for the first time. The taste of him coats the inside of your mouth and you swallow greedily, the blood rush to your ears muffling his voice. 

“Such a sweet whore,” he hums. “You like sucking cock, don’t you?” 

Dragging your lips down the length of him, you answer with him between your lips, “Yes, Father.” 

“I really do enjoy it when you call me that,” his thumb touches your cheek as you finally take him between your lips, you allow out your cheeks and flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock. “All you needed was a little encouragement and now you’re the perfect hole for me. There’s nothing wrong with you, all you need is someone to take care of you.” 

You hum in approval around him, taking him deeper while grinding against his leg, your dress rides up your thighs, your underwear nearly sheer in color.   

“I can feel how wet you are. So needy,” he lays back in his chair and spreads his legs. “I want to feel every inch of your mouth. I said worship, if this is how you think that works you’re mistaken, dove.” 

Your stomach churns at that. You want to make him happy—you truly do. You part from him, strings of saliva following the frame of your lips as you bend down closer to the floor, feeling the full shape of his shoe. You look up to him, the heft of his cock laying directly in the middle of your face, the scent of sex and him clinging to your nose. Opening your mouth, you lick between his balls, taking one into your mouth, you swirl your tongue around it. His eyes roll in pleasure, a thick drop of precome dripping to your forehead. 

“That’s it,” he raps and guides you back up, lining the bulbous head of his cock against your lips. He pushes forward, cock filling your mouth then inching down your throat. Tears trickle down your cheeks, your throat convulsing as you try to accommodate to the width of him. You swallow and swallow, until your nose is buried into the dark curls that crown his length. You can barely breathe. “I knew you could take it all, little one. I know that mouth could do more than talk.” 

The heavy palm of his hand moves down your throat, he feels the shape of himself through the skin. His cock twitches when it feels his hand, straining your mouth further. 

He pulls out and you gasp for air, his grin is wide as he looks down at you. “I want to make a mess of that face,” with the rough pitch of his words, you roll your hips, your clit catches against his shoe and a loud moan spills from your damp lips. He clicks his tongue with annoyance. “Ask for forgiveness,” he growls, hand moving up and down his cock with hard strokes. 

“For what, Father?” your voice is barely above a whisper. And you’re not sure why you asked when you’re going to surrender to his wants regardless of what they are. 

“For being a whore,” he spits. “For talking about a past flame and for taking pleasure without permission.” 

He watches with heavy eyes as you straighten yourself, his cock aimed directly at your face. You watch him with parted lips. His nail gently traces the vein that curls around the length of him, slick sounds filling the normally silent office. He swipes a thumb over his head and thrusts into his fist. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” you begin. “It has been two weeks since my last confession. I have behaved like a whore, talked about another man in the presence of the clergy, and taken pleasure without permission. I come before you seeking God's forgiveness and guidance.” 

“Will you repeat your sins?” 

“No, Father. Not unless I have permission to do so.” 

His hand quickens, his grip tightening, “Do it then,” he snarls with a devilish smile. “Ask me permission to be a whore.” 

Instead of a verbal permission, you part your mouth wide and stick your tongue out. His eyes widen with shock momentarily before understanding. He seems pleased and in return, you feel genuine jot for finally doing something right. 

He grips your chin, pulling you away from his leg and directly between his thighs. It doesn’t take him long to go over the age—one, two more strokes and you feel the first string of white come spurting over your face. It drips down your forehead from your face. The sounds Ezra make are unhinged, his hips lifting from the seat as he moans openly into the air, defiling you and marking you as his. His seed feels heavy over your face and with your tongue, you catch a bit of it, moaning as you swallow. 

Ezra hunches over you and you feel his tongue on your cheek, taking himself into his mouth, he presses his tongue into your mouth, forcing more of himself inside of you. 

When he parts away, you’re dazed, all pretense of the life outside of this church gone. 

“My sweet bird, so dirty now,” he purrs, this time he collects more of himself over his fingers and stuffs it into your mouth. Your eyes rolling you swallow over and over. “What do you say?” he asks melodically. 

“Thank you, Father.” 

[horeformilfs]

Searching for Home

Dimitrescu Family x Gender Neutral Autistic Reader

TW: Bullying, Mention of Parental Death

------------------------------------------------

As the sun dipped behind the towering peaks of the Carpathian Mountains, casting a golden glow over the quaint village below, Y/N trudged out of the orphanage gates, shoulders hunched against the biting chill of the evening air. For seven long years, they had called this place home, but it had never felt like home. The laughter of other children echoed in the distance, a cruel reminder of their own solitude.

Y/N's steps faltered as a sudden cacophony of noise erupted around them. Startled, they instinctively covered their ears, heart pounding erratically in their chest. The world seemed to spin, the sounds blending into a nightmarish symphony of chaos. The older kids, faces twisted with malice, stood nearby, wielding an array of makeshift instruments to amplify the din.

"Look at the freak! Can't even handle a little noise," one of them jeered, his voice laced with cruelty.

Y/N's breaths came in short, ragged gasps as panic seized them, every nerve on edge. Desperate, they stumbled backward, eyes wide with fear, seeking escape from the overwhelming onslaught of sensory input.

"Leave me alone!" they cried, voice raw with emotion, but their words were lost amidst the clamor.

With a strangled sob, Y/N turned and fled, feet pounding against the cobblestones, tears blurring their vision. 

The village blurred past in a blur of colors and shapes, each alleyway a potential dead end. But Y/N pressed on, driven by a primal instinct to flee, to outrun the demons nipping at their heels.

Finally, as their legs threatened to give out beneath them, they stumbled upon the village church, its weathered stones looming like a beacon of refuge amidst the chaos. With one last burst of energy, they pushed open the heavy wooden door and stumbled inside, heart pounding in their chest.

As Y/N cowered behind the heavy wooden door of the village church, their heart still racing from the chase, they felt a sense of fleeting safety wash over them. The sounds of their pursuers grew fainter as they rounded a corner, their frantic footsteps fading into the distance.

Breathing heavily, Y/N pressed their back against the door, eyes darting around the dimly lit interior of the church. Shadows danced across the walls, casting eerie shapes upon the worn stone floor. With trembling hands, they reached out to steady themselves, fingertips grazing the rough surface of the doorframe.

Frantically, they scanned the room for any sign of movement, any indication that they were not alone. But save for the faint flicker of candlelight and the soft rustle of fabric, the church remained eerily silent.

Their gaze came to rest upon a faded photograph hanging on the wall, illuminated by the dim glow of the candles. It depicted a stern-faced woman, her eyes fixed in an unwavering gaze, her presence looming over the room like a silent sentinel. Mother Miranda, the villagers whispered, a figure of reverence and fear in equal measure.

Though Y/N had never been one for religion, in this moment of desperation, they found themselves drawn to the image before them. With a shaky breath, they bowed their head and clasped their hands together, fingers intertwining in silent supplication.

"Mother Miranda," they whispered, the words feeling foreign upon their lips. "Please... please help me. I don't want to go back there. I just want to be safe."

Closing their eyes, Y/N rocked back and forth, a soothing rhythm born from years of seeking solace in moments of overwhelming sensory input. They pressed their palms against their ears, willing the world to fade away, to grant them respite from the tumultuous storm raging within.

Unbeknownst to them, in the shadowed recesses of the church, a figure stirred. Mother Miranda herself, her presence as silent as a whisper, watched from the darkness, her gaze softening as she beheld the child huddled before her.

As Y/N's eyes widened in shock at the sight of Mother Miranda approaching, a wave of fear and uncertainty washed over them. Their instincts screamed at them to flee, to put as much distance between themselves and this enigmatic figure as possible. But as they pressed back against the solid wooden door, they found themselves trapped, with nowhere to run.

Miranda, sensing their distress, moved forward with slow, deliberate steps, her expression gentle yet unreadable beneath the mask that obscured her features. But as she drew nearer, Y/N's panic only intensified, their heart pounding in their chest like a trapped bird.

"Please, stay back," they whispered, voice trembling with fear, as they instinctively tried to shrink away from her looming presence.

Miranda paused, her keen gaze softened with understanding. She could sense the fear radiating from the child before her, could see the tension in their trembling form. With a silent nod, she halted her approach, giving them the space they so desperately sought.

But Miranda knew that mere words would not be enough to quell their fear, not when faced with the unknown. And so, with deliberate care, she reached up and began to unfasten the mask that obscured her face, revealing the woman beneath.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as the mask fell away, revealing features softened by compassion and empathy. It was unheard of for Mother Miranda to show such vulnerability, to strip away the veil of mystery that shrouded her every action. And yet, here she was, kneeling before them with a tenderness that took their breath away.

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes as Miranda brushed a gentle hand against their cheek, her touch as light as a feather. But as they flinched away, overcome by a lifetime of mistrust and uncertainty, Miranda's heart ached for the pain that lay hidden within.

"It's alright, child," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm against their frayed nerves. "You're safe now. Tell me, what has happened? How can I help you?"

Y/N hesitated, their gaze flickering away as they struggled to put their feelings into words. But Miranda was patient, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of their emotions. And as they finally found the courage to speak, halting and hesitant though it may be, she listened with an open heart, ready to offer whatever solace they sought.

As Y/N poured out their heart to Miranda, recounting the cruel prank and the years of loneliness and ridicule they had endured, Miranda listened with a compassion that spoke volumes. Her eyes softened with empathy, mirroring the pain reflected in Y/N's own gaze.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, my child," Miranda said softly, her voice carrying a weight of understanding. "No one should ever have to feel so alone."

When Y/N mentioned their parents, Miranda's expression shifted, a flicker of sorrow crossing her features. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss," she murmured, her voice laced with genuine sympathy. "Lycan attacks can be devastating. Your strength in facing such tragedy is admirable."

As Y/N hesitated at Miranda's offer of a hug, Miranda respected their boundaries with a gentle nod. "Only if you feel comfortable, my dear," she assured them, her tone warm and reassuring.

With cautious acceptance, Y/N leaned into Miranda's embrace, feeling the comforting warmth of her presence envelop them like a protective cloak. Miranda's touch was gentle, her movements slow and deliberate, as she wrapped her arms around them in a gesture of comfort and reassurance.

As Miranda stroked their hair with tender affection, Y/N felt a sense of peace wash over them, a fleeting moment of solace amidst the chaos of their world. And as they pulled away from the hug, a hesitant smile tugging at their lips, they found themselves trusting this woman in a way they never thought possible.

With a soft rustle of fabric, Miranda replaced her mask, the enigmatic facade once again in place. "Come, child," she said, her voice gentle yet commanding. "I have a place where you will be safe."

As they walked together in companionable silence towards Castle Dimitrescu, Y/N couldn't help but notice the grandeur of their surroundings, the imposing walls of the castle looming overhead like silent sentinels. But though questions tugged at their mind, they remained unspoken, for now content to follow Miranda's lead.

Entering the castle, they were met by a maid, whose eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Miranda. "Are you here to speak with Lady Dimitrescu, ma'am?" she asked, her voice deferential.

Miranda nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, please inform her of our arrival," she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

As the maid scurried off to relay the message, Y/N glanced up at Miranda, curiosity and uncertainty warring within them. "Where are we going?" they ventured to ask, their voice barely above a whisper.

Miranda's smile was gentle, her eyes filled with a promise of sanctuary. "You'll see, my dear," she replied cryptically, her hand resting reassuringly on Y/N's shoulder as they ventured deeper into the heart of the castle.

As Miranda led Y/N to the second floor of the castle, their heart hammered in their chest with each echoing step. The air felt charged with anticipation as Miranda knocked on a door, the sound reverberating through the quiet corridor. A muffled voice answered from within, and Miranda pushed the door open, ushering Y/N into the room.

Inside, a woman adorned in a cream-colored dress, a striking black hat perched upon her head, and leather gloves adorning her hands, turned to greet them. It was Lady Dimitrescu herself, her presence commanding attention as she rose from her seat, towering over them with an imposing stature that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine.

Y/N's eyes widened in awe and trepidation as they beheld the formidable figure before them. They instinctively took a step back, their breath catching in their throat, but Miranda's reassuring presence at their side anchored them in the moment.

"It's alright, my dear," Miranda murmured, her voice a soothing balm against the rising tide of fear. "Lady Dimitrescu won't harm you. She just wants to talk."

Slowly, Lady Dimitrescu approached, her movements deliberate and measured as she knelt down before Y/N, her gaze gentle yet penetrating. "What is your name, child?" she asked, her voice carrying a warmth that belied her intimidating exterior.

Y/N's gaze dropped to the floor, their fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of their shirt. They mumbled a response, barely audible above the rush of their own heartbeat.

Miranda interjected, her voice calm yet firm. "Their name is Y/N," she said, her eyes meeting Lady Dimitrescu's with a silent understanding. "I would like to speak with you privately for a moment, if you don't mind."

Lady Dimitrescu nodded, her gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment longer before turning to Miranda. "Of course," she replied, her tone betraying none of the curiosity that flickered in her eyes. "We can speak in the study."

As Y/N waited alone in the room, a strange buzzing sound began to fill the air, growing louder with each passing moment. Their heart raced with apprehension as they turned towards the source of the noise, eyes widening in surprise as three figures materialized before them.

The first, with flowing blonde hair and piercing yellow eyes, stepped forward, her presence exuding an air of confidence and elegance. "Well, well, what do we have here?" she purred, her voice smooth as silk as she regarded Y/N with a curious gaze.

Y/N's breath caught in their throat as they tried to find their voice, the weight of the three women's scrutiny bearing down upon them. With a shaky breath, they managed to whisper their name, barely audible above the hum of uncertainty that filled the room.

The blonde woman smiled, a predatory gleam dancing in her eyes. "Ah, a visitor," she mused, her tone laced with amusement. "Well, little one, allow me to introduce myself. I am Bela."

As she spoke, Y/N took in her features, noting the drained mascara that framed her eyes, the bloodstains that adorned her lips like a twisted smile. Despite her ethereal beauty, there was something undeniably unsettling about her presence.

Beside her stood two other women, each bearing a striking resemblance to Bela in both appearance and demeanor. Daniela, with her fiery red hair and intense gaze, and Cassandra, with her dark locks and stoic expression, completed the trio, their presence looming over Y/N like silent guardians.

Together, they formed a formidable trio, their allegiance to House Dimitrescu evident in the flower tattoos that adorned their foreheads. And as they regarded Y/N with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, the air crackled with an unspoken tension, a silent invitation into the mysterious world of Castle Dimitrescu.

As the conversation flowed between them, Bela and Daniela peppered Y/N with questions, their curiosity piqued by the presence of this newcomer in their midst. Cassandra, however, remained aloof, her gaze flickering between her sisters and Y/N, uncertainty etched upon her features.

As the evening wore on, Y/N's exhaustion became palpable, their eyelids growing heavy with weariness. Sensing their fatigue, Bela gently inquired about Miranda and her mother's departure, her voice tinged with concern.

Y/N blinked owlishly, trying to recall the details of their departure. "I'm not sure," they admitted softly, their gaze wandering around the room until it landed on a clock hanging on the wall, its hands pointing to the late hour of 10 pm.

With a sigh, Bela guided Y/N to the couch, settling them between herself and Daniela. Daniela, ever the nurturing sister, retrieved a book and began to read aloud, the sound of her voice a soothing lullaby that washed over Y/N like a gentle breeze.

As the words of the story wove a tapestry of dreams, Y/N's eyelids drooped lower and lower, until at last, they succumbed to the embrace of sleep. Their head lolled to the side, coming to rest against Bela's shoulder, and she adjusted their position with a gentle touch, ensuring their comfort as she stroked their hair with tender affection.

Across the room, Cassandra watched silently, her expression unreadable as she observed the scene before her. But beneath her stoic facade, a flicker of something akin to warmth stirred within her, a newfound curiosity kindled by the presence of this enigmatic stranger in their home.

As Bela and Daniela exchanged whispers, their voices hushed with a mixture of curiosity and concern, Cassandra remained silent, her thoughts swirling like shadows in the depths of her mind.

"Did you notice anything strange about them?" Cassandra interjected suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet of the room like a sharp blade.

Bela and Daniela exchanged glances, their brows furrowing in contemplation. "Not particularly," Bela replied, her tone thoughtful. "Why, did you?"

Cassandra nodded, her expression grave. "There were a few things," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "They seemed... different somehow."

Bela's brow furrowed in concern. "Different how?" she pressed, her gaze searching Cassandra's face for answers.

Cassandra hesitated, her words carefully measured as she recounted her observations. "They had intense interests in specific topics, and their speech lacked inflection," she began, ticking off the points on her fingers. "They also displayed signs of anxiety, fidgeting, sensitivity to light and noise, and various tics and stimming behaviors."

Bela's eyes widened in realization, her thoughts racing as she considered Cassandra's words. "Do you think... they might be autistic?" she ventured, her voice soft with uncertainty.

Cassandra shrugged, her expression unreadable. "It's possible," she conceded, her tone cautious. "Perhaps we can ask them about it when they wake up."

Just then, the door opened, and Miranda and Alcina returned, their presence filling the room with a sense of calm authority. Miranda's gaze softened as she beheld Y/N asleep against Bela, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Bela turned to Alcina, her brow furrowed with concern. "What's going to happen now?" she asked, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Alcina's expression softened as she regarded her daughters. "If Y/N decides to stay, they will be welcomed into our home," she explained gently. "But if not... well, we'll deal with that when the time comes."

Bela nodded in understanding, her thoughts racing with the weight of the decision that lay ahead. As she gently roused Y/N from their slumber, their eyes fluttered open, confusion etched upon their features as they took in the sight of Miranda and Lady Dimitrescu standing before them.

Miranda's voice was gentle as she explained the situation, giving Y/N time to process the offer that lay before them. And as they took a moment to consider their options, Alcina posed the question that hung heavy in the air.

"Would you like to stay with us, Y/N?" she asked, her tone soft with genuine concern.

After a moment of contemplation, Y/N met Alcina's gaze with a determined nod. "Yes," they replied, their voice steady with newfound resolve. "I would like that."

As Miranda reassured Y/N of their safety and well-being, a sense of relief washed over them, tempered by a lingering hint of hesitation. But as Miranda made to leave, Y/N's eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty, a silent plea for reassurance.

"Remember, my dear, you are in good hands," Miranda said, her voice soft with genuine care. "I will return in a few days to check up on you, and I'll come by weekly to see how you're adjusting."

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of their lips. "Thank you, Miranda," they murmured, their gratitude evident in every word.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Miranda took her leave, her departure leaving an echo of quietude in her wake. Alcina stepped forward, her presence a comforting anchor in the sea of uncertainty.

"Come, Y/N," she said gently, her voice warm with reassurance. "Let me show you to your room."

But before they could move, Cassandra interjected, her voice filled with a quiet determination. "Mother, I have a question for Y/N," she said, her gaze fixed on her mother's face.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the prospect of yet another interrogation, their anxiety bubbling to the surface like a turbulent storm. But Daniela was quick to offer a reassuring smile, her voice a soothing balm against the rising tide of panic.

"Don't worry, little one," she said, her tone gentle yet firm. "It's nothing bad, I promise."

With a hesitant nod, Y/N braced themselves for whatever question lay ahead, their mind a whirlwind of uncertainty and apprehension. 

As Cassandra posed her question, a heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by the sound of Y/N's quickening breaths. Their muscles tensed, every nerve on edge as they grappled with the weight of their answer.

Cassandra's gaze was steady, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern as she awaited Y/N's response. "Are you autistic?" she asked, her voice gentle yet direct.

"Yes," they whispered, their voice barely above a whisper, but it echoed loudly in the quiet of the room. "Yes, I am."

Instantly, a torrent of nervous energy flooded through them, their words tumbling out in a rush of panicked apology. "But if that's a problem, I can leave, I'll find somewhere else to stay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause any trouble, I-"

But before they could spiral further into self-doubt, Alcina moved with a grace born of years of experience, kneeling before them and gently lifting their chin with a touch as light as a feather. She smiled reassuringly, her eyes warm with understanding.

"Shh, child, it's alright," she murmured, her voice a soothing melody that calmed the storm raging within Y/N's mind. "Just breathe."

As Y/N's frantic apologies subsided, Alcina listened patiently, her daughters and Cassandra gathered around in a circle of support. And as Y/N poured out their fears and insecurities, recounting the hurtful reactions of others in the past, Alcina's heart ached with a newfound understanding.

"You are not most people," she said firmly, her voice filled with conviction. "You are here with us now, and we are here for you. Your identity is not a problem; it is a part of who you are, and we accept you for it."

Moved by her words, Bela and Daniela stepped forward, their arms open in a silent invitation. "Are you okay with a hug?" Bela asked softly, her eyes filled with empathy.

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at their lips as they leaned into the embrace, feeling the warmth and acceptance of their newfound family enveloping them like a comforting embrace. And as they stood there, held in the embrace of those who now stood by their side, they knew, in that moment, that they were home.

With Y/N enveloped in the warmth of their embrace, Bela and Daniela exchanged glances, their expressions soft with empathy. Cassandra approached cautiously, her movements tentative as she joined the circle, her gaze meeting Y/N's with a newfound sense of understanding.

"Thank you," Y/N whispered, their voice tinged with gratitude as they leaned into the comforting embrace of their newfound family.

Bela's smile was gentle as she tightened her hold, a silent reassurance that they were welcome here, just as they were. "You're part of our family now," she murmured, her words echoing the sentiment shared by all.

As the embrace lingered, Alcina's gaze swept over her daughters and Y/N, her heart swelling with a sense of belonging that she hadn't felt in years. "Let us show you to your room," she said, her voice warm with affection.

Together, they moved as one, a united front against the uncertainties of the world beyond. And as they ventured down the halls of Castle Dimitrescu, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over them, a quiet reassurance that they had found their place in this enigmatic world.

As they reached the threshold of Y/N's new room, Alcina turned to them with a smile, her eyes soft with motherly affection. "Welcome home," she said, her voice a gentle promise of the love and acceptance that awaited them within these walls.

As Y/N took in the sight of their new room, a sense of wonder filled their heart. The soft glow of candlelight danced across the walls, casting shadows that seemed to whisper tales of centuries past. It was a room filled with history and mystery, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the world beyond.

As they turned to thank their newfound family, they found themselves alone in the quiet of the room with only Alcina present. The echoes of their footsteps mingled with the hushed whispers of the night, a symphony of solitude that enveloped them like a comforting embrace.

Just as they were about to settle into their new surroundings, Alcina's voice broke the silence, her presence a comforting presence in the dimly lit room. "My room is right down the hall, dear," she said softly, her words carrying a sense of warmth and reassurance. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

With a grateful nod, Y/N watched as Alcina approached, her movements graceful and deliberate. Cupping Y/N's cheek gently in her hand, Alcina leaned down to press a tender kiss to their forehead, a silent promise of protection and affection.

"Goodnight, my child," Alcina murmured, her voice a soothing melody that echoed in the stillness of the night. "Sleep well."

With a smile tugging at their lips, Y/N settled into their new bed, their heart filled with gratitude for the family that had welcomed them with open arms. And as they drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the warmth and love of their new home, they knew, in that moment, that they were finally where they belonged. 

[vmpiires]

﹆₊吸血鬼‧₊˚ TOLD HER BABY I EAT HUMANS, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ you encountered the famous vampire hunter. wc, 2.27K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. got this idea from a fanart i saw on twitter. MY LORD HE WAS FINE..erm anyway,, JOIN THE DISCORD AND THANKS AGAIN FOR 400 FOLLOWERS. hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meee

␥ tags. vampire AU, half-vampire vampire hunter!choso, female anatomy, blood, light smut (?), etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

the cathedral stood tall and imposing, its intricate stone façade glimmering in the moonlight. each stained-glass window depicted a different biblical scene, casting colorful patterns on the ground below. inside, the soft murmur of hushed prayers from the townspeople reverberated through the halls, creating a serene ambiance. but choso's purpose for being there was not to pray.

his heavy footsteps echoed through the cavernous halls as he made his way through the dimly lit crypt, guided only by flickering candlelight. the musty smell of ancient bones and earth filled his nostrils, sending shivers down his spine.

choso cut an imposing figure, his tall frame draped in a black cassock that nearly fell to his ankles with black pants underneath. a matching mozzetta hung from his shoulders, fluttering in the air as he walked, adding a sense of solemnity in his presence.

his black boots were sturdy and well-worn, a testament to the countless hunts he'd been on over the years since the church recruited him. his black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, letting his bangs hang just above his eyes, revealing his pale skin. and his violet eyes were piercing, they seemed to glow with an inner fire.

across the bridge of his nose, a blood mark stood out, a stark reminder of his vampiric nature. a battle he waged within himself. around his neck hung his rosary, a symbol of his faith, which he wielded as fearlessly as any weapon.

the hunter's struggle with his vampiric nature was a constant battle. despite his determination to suppress his undying thirst for human blood, he could still feel the deep-seated urges simmering beneath the surface. he likened it to a constant humming in the back of his mind, a temptation that was always there, no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

it took every ounce of willpower to resist the pull of his instincts. choso had finally developed several coping mechanisms over the years, from meditation and prayer to sheer force of will. but still, the thirst lingered, his mouth suddenly going dry at the sight of a human and the distinct smell of their blood, imagining the flavor.

as choso continued to make his way through the crypt, his senses remained on high alert. he could feel the weight of silence, the chill of the stone walls, and the oppressive air of the tomb. but what captivated his attention was the scent of human blood.

his steps faltered as a sudden wave of hunger washed over him. his fangs ached to sink into soft flesh, his body craved the sweet taste of blood. he closed his eyes, willing the thirst to subside. he couldn't afford to lose control, not here.

the hunter's body was tense, his breaths shallow and controlled as he focused on calming himself. he reached for his rosary, the smooth beads cool against his skin, a symbol of strength and protection. in his mind, he conjured the faces of those he had sworn to defend - innocent men, women, and children who relied on him for their safety. with each bead he passed through his fingers, the hunger that threatened to overtake him slowly began to subside, leaving behind a hollow ache in its wake.

choso's eyes snapped open as he sensed movement in the shadows once again. he whirled around, his hand instinctively reaching for the blessed dagger made from his own blood at his hip. that's when he saw you, the human he had been sensing, huddled in the corner of the crypt.

for a moment, he was struck by your vulnerability, your fragile humanity. but then his gaze was drawn to the pulse beating in your neck, the blood flowing beneath your skin. he felt the thirst rising again, stronger this time, harder to resist.

choso took a step towards you, his eyes locked on yours. he could see the fear in them, the knowledge of what he was. he felt a sudden shame, a revulsion at his own nature. but still, the hunger gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the character he tried to suppress.

he stopped a few feet away from you, his body trembling with the effort of resisting the urge to feed. "what are you doing here?" he growled, his voice low and threatening. "it's not safe down here...not for someone like you."

the man's gaze flickered around the crypt, taking in the dusty tombs and the eerie silence. choso's mind was racing, trying to piece together how you had ended up in such a place. had you been lured here by another vampire? or did you sneak in?

he took a deep breath, trying to center himself. "you need to go," he said, his tone firm. "now, before you get into some trouble." even as he spoke, he could feel the thirst rising again, reminding him of the danger he posed.

silently, without another word passing between you and the hunter, you swiftly exited the cold and dusty crypt, choso’s mozzetta fluttering behind him as a draft flew by him. your footsteps echoed through the dark tunnels as you made your way back to the main floor of the church, leaving the solitary hunter behind in his thoughts.

the smell of damp stone and old incense filled your nostrils as you ascended the stairs, anxious to escape the unsettling atmosphere of the crypt. finally, you emerged into the warm light of the cathedral, relieved to be once again surrounded by familiar surroundings.

choso watched you go, his body tense and coiled like a spring. he didn't relax until he heard the soft click of the crypt door closing behind you. only then did he let out a ragged breath, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion.

he sank to his knees, his head in his hands. he felt drained, both physically and emotionally. he had come so close to losing control and biting you, to becoming the thing he had sworn to fight against.

the male stayed like that for a long time, until the muffled sounds of footsteps in the church above finally spurred him into action. he stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. he knew he had a job to do, and he couldn't let his own weaknesses get in the way.

choso looked like a fallen angel, his pale skin glowing in the light streaming through the stained glass windows the following morning. the nuns fussed around him, their adoration plain to see. but his mind was elsewhere, lost in thought.

he sat in the pews, his gaze fixed on the ornate ceiling above him. his white collared shirt open, revealing a hint of his toned chest. his hair was tied back as usual, but a few stray strands had escaped, framing his face.

his thoughts kept returning to the events of the night before, to you, the human he saved. he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something different about you, something that set you apart from the others.

he closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind. he needed to focus on his mission, on his duty as a vampire hunter. but your face kept intruding on his thoughts, your fear and vulnerability etched into his memory.

choso's thoughts were interrupted by movement at the sound of the church doors opening. he turned his head, his gaze instantly drawn to you as you walked down the aisle in his direction.

his eyes widened in surprise, and he felt a jolt of something he couldn't quite identify. you looked different in the daylight, your features softened by the warm sunlight streaming through the windows.

as you drew closer to choso, your steps faltered, and your eyes showed a mixture of uncertainty and genuine gratitude. but he could also see the fear in your gaze, knowing the potential danger he posed to you with his presence. his sharp features were set in a stern expression, adding to the tension between you both. as you stood before him, the air seemed to crackle with an unspoken understanding of the risks involved in this encounter.

with a deep inhale, he attempted to steady his racing heart and regain control of his emotions. "i distinctly remember warning you to stay away from this place," he started in a rough, gravelly voice. his eyes narrowed as he scanned the intruder standing before him. "what are you doing here?" the air seemed to crackle with tension as his words hung heavy in the stillness of the abandoned building.

you instinctively took a step back, feeling the weight of choso's presence and the depth of their emotions. "i needed to see you," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i wanted to say thank you for what you did last night."

the words hung between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. the air was thick with tension as you waited for his response, uncertain of how he would react to your thanks. despite the distance between you, the intensity of your feelings bridged the gap and connected you in that moment.

you leaned in, your voice still barely above a whisper. "but i wanted to ask you something," you prompted. "in private." your words hung in the air, creating a sense of mystery and intrigue. the soft glow of the sun peering through the window illuminated the faint outlines of your face as you waited for their response.

choso looked at you, his expression unreadable. "no, there's no time for that," he said firmly. "you need to go before something happens and you need to stay away."

with your chin held high, you stood your ground. "no," your voice was shaking but determined. "i need to talk to you. it's important."

the hunter hesitated for a moment, weighing his options. he knew he needed to protect you, but he also couldn't ignore the urgency of the situation. "fine," he said finally, his voice tight. "but make it quick."

with a firm grip, he snatched you by the hand and urgently led you into an empty room, away from the curious eyes of the parishioners flooding in. as soon as the door slammed shut, choso wasted no time in closing the distance between you. his breath was hot against your skin as he leaned in close, his dark eyes burning with intensity.

choso’s voice was filled with urgency as he spoke. it echoed off the stone walls and reverberated through the dark room. "what is it?" he questioned, his eyes searching yours for answers. "what could possibly be so important that you would risk your life to come here and tell me?" the tension in the air was palpable as you hesitated before revealing your question. every word was like a fragile thread that could unravel at any moment.

the question had been nagging at you since the moment you left the cathedral. "how come you didn't bite me when you saw me?" the words escaped your lips before you could even think about it. choso turned to look at you, his widening with surprise at your query. "why did you decide to let me go instead?"

your tone was curious, almost amused. you couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind, what made him spare your life when he could have easily ended it right then and there. the air around you felt heavy as you stood before the hunter, awaiting his response.

choso hadn't expected you to be so direct with him, so perceptive. but before he could answer, he felt his mouth go dry with thirst rising within him, more powerful than it had ever been. he took a step towards you, his violet eyes glowing with desire. he knew he shouldn't, aware that it was dangerous, but he couldn't resist.

"because..." he whispered, his voice strained. "i couldn't."

without thinking, he closed the distance between you and pressed his lips to yours. the kiss was hungry, desperate, fueled by his desire for blood and something else he couldn't quite identify.

your body stiffened in surprise, but then you found yourself melting against him, returning the kiss with equal fervor. for only a moment, choso had forgotten about everything except for the taste of your lips and the thirst welling up inside him.

choso lifted you with ease and gently placed you onto the cleared desk in the room. his lips traveled from yours to your neck, pressing soft kisses against your skin and occasionally nibbling on it, leaving a trail of marks behind. each touch sent shivers down your spine and your pulse quickened as you let out quiet moans, struggling to contain your growing desire.

the sensation of his warm breath on your neck only added to the intensity of the moment. the room was filled with the scent of passion and anticipation, as bodies pressed together in a dance of pleasure. choso's hands roamed over your body, igniting every nerve with his touch.

the sensation of his warm breath on your neck only added to the moment’s intensity. the room was filled with the scent of passion and anticipation, as bodies pressed together in a dance of pleasure. choso's hands roamed over your body, igniting every nerve with his touch.

while his lips pressed against your neck, you felt a sharp pinch on your skin, followed by a faint slurping sound. choso's mouth and shirt were now stained with your blood, causing your eyes to widen in shock. before you could even process what had happened, he pulled away and kissed you again with an urgent hunger, his actions more desperate and forceful than before.

you could feel the warmth of your own blood mingling with his saliva as the taste of iron filled your mouth. the intensity of the moment sent shivers down your spine, both from fear and a strange sense of pleasure that you couldn't quite explain.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[callumsgirl]

Beautiful Things...that I've got

pairing: Austin Butler x female reader (Elizabeth)

summary: Elizabeth is young and beautiful when she starts a bartender job at the Rough Wheel. A dimly lit bar known for its jukeboxes, pool tables and the Outlaw MC drinking and hanging around.

Elizabeth had been working at the bar for two months and had had a crush on Austin ever since she first saw him playing pool and he called her a Babydoll in a raspy, warm voice, and handed her his credit card. It only got worse from that moment on, because to say Elizabeth was inexperienced with men was an understatement. She was 21, unkissed and a virgin, and Outlaw's number two had it in for her.

warnings: mostly flirting, age gab (21 y.o. and 33 y.o.), light and heavy smut, kissing, sexual unexperienced woman, virgin woman, first sexual experiences, some hard wording, use of pet names, fist fight, blood and smut, tears and mental pain

word count: 15,7 k

A/N: English is my second language. Please have mercy with me!

POV Elizabeth // Chicago, USA

Today is my two month anniversary, and all of my classes at the college are going pretty well for me. My grades are impeccable, I'm almost done writing my senior thesis, and I've made $60 in tips in my last two shifts.

Also, my mother had finally stopped trying to fix me up with a smart young man from her church. She tries to do that all the time and it's annoying. Mom always wants to get me a good match. She's hopelessly romantic. I let out a silent sigh. After combing my hair, I put it up in a plait. A young woman with moss-green eyes and freckles on her cheeks looks at me in the mirror. Hoping to look halfway decent next to the other female waitresses and earn a few dollars in tips, I dab a little lip gloss on my lips.

I'm wearing my favourite dress. It's red, cute and not too short for working behind the bar. I made the mistake of wearing a skirt that was too short once in my first week at the bar…and it was awkward and disgusting when Jimmy - that weird old guy who always sits at the bar - saw my half-naked bum.

Since then I've only worn jeans, skirts or dresses that cover my thighs. I'm also the only one of the waitresses who doesn't wear red lipstick. Callie, a bartender friend of mine, thinks I'm a prude and pretty stupid to miss out on all the tips just because I don't want to wear red lipstick.

To be honest, I need every cent, but I'm not going to earn it by wearing red lipstick, batting my eyes and sitting on some guy's lap. I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath.

I take one last look in the mirror before I leave the student hall of residence and get on my bike to cycle to the bar. My shift starts at 6pm and it takes me about 20 minutes on my bike.

When I arrive at the bar, it's still quiet and empty. I put my bag in my locker, tie an apron around my waist and start taking stock of the alcoholic drinks and snacks.

Just as I'm ticking off the last few lines of the list, Callie comes into the bar and smiles at me. She is tall, athletic and has flawless skin. Her full lips are all glossy and dark red. Callie looks beautiful and sexy without much effort. Life can be really cruel. I curl my lips a little enviously.

"Hey sweet girl. You look pretty. Did you put the dress on for Austin?" she teases me and winks as her hands clasp the hem of my red dress and she strokes it. She really winks at me!

I shake my head gently and feel my cheeks flush.

Damn it. Calm down Elizabeth, I think and give her a shy smile. Just one comment about Austin and my heartbeat goes out of control and I look like a tomato.

Sometimes I think she has an idea of how sheltered I grew up. That my parents kept me a million miles away from all the boys, that all I had to worry about was making sure I got good grades. But then she winks at me and makes these… comments about red lips and that I work in a bar full of hot bikers.

This bar is definitely a place my parents would never have let me go. Plus, this bar is far from my parents' idea of where I should work and who I should hang out with. But I haven't told them about my job yet.

The hourly wage is okay. The tips don't make me rich, but it helps me get through the month and I'm certainly not going to call my parents and ask for a dime.

I bite the inside of my cheek and lower my eyes, embarrassed. "Don't be silly, Callie," I laugh nervously. "I'm wearing this dress because I like it. Austin wouldn't even look at me if I - I gesture in her direction with my pen in hand, pursing my lips at her revealing outfit. "…if I wore something like you. It just doesn't suit me." I can feel my cheeks getting even hotter and quickly brush a loose strand of hair that has come loose from my plait behind my ear.

"You're joking, aren't you?" she asks, raising an eyebrow curiously. Her make-up is striking and dark. Her green eyes look so hypnotizing and intense with the black eyeliner and her red lips distract me.

I shake my head again and turn to more important tasks. Namely, finally getting through this list before the bar fills up.

"No," I reply and shrug my shoulders. "It's obvious that I don't fit in here and I'm sure no one here is interested in me. Look at me." I can't help but smile. It's obvious that I grew up differently and don't belong here. I stand out with my freckles, my clothes and the fact that I hardly wear any make-up. I often feel out of place. That's often the case. I press my lips together.

Callie smirks and brushes another strand of hair out of my face. "You're really sweet, Lizzie, and naïve," she says, pinching my cheek.

I gasp indignantly and frown. "What?" I ask in shock and blink at her. She can't be serious, can she?

"You're clever, and pretty, and cute. You're a lot more dangerous to the boys here than you think. Plus a lot of the men calling you by pet names. It's a good sign and more money for you, sweet girl." Then Callie turns her back to me and starts polishing beer glasses.

What nonsense, I think to myself and stare at her for a few more seconds until I get back to work.

Two hours later, the bar is overcrowded and I'm mixing various drinks in piecework time. I cut fresh lemon slices and decorate cocktail glasses. Then I pour beer and polish glasses again.

The air is warm, stale and when the front door opens again, a cool breeze blows over my heated, slightly sweaty skin. Only now do I realize how out of breath I actually am and how hungry I am. As if on cue, my stomach grumbles and I sigh in bittersweet despair. My break isn't for another two hours and judging by the rush at the bar, I'll be making a lot more cocktails before then. I let out another sigh and chew on my lower lip. The thought of my turkey sandwiches in my rucksack makes my stomach growl and I feel sick.

I roll my eyes. Pull yourself together, Elizabeth.

Then I work through the customers' drinks requests. I mix cocktails and pour beer. I fill the ice and lemons, rinse the glasses and polish them afterwards. Another blonde comes to the bar and waves for a waitress. Just as I'm about to approach her, Callie comes towards me and sends me on my break. Thank God!

I devour my sandwich and an apple during my short break between the current swing and the next. Then I stand behind the bar again and push full glasses across the counter. I'm slicing up more lemons and limes when someone throws a penny into the jukebox and selects a song. This Live by Curtis Stigers.

It's loud in here and it's hard to hear the music, but when the first sounds come through to me, I know immediately that he is here. Only one person in the bar would dare to play just this one song. I exhale loudly and my fingers tremble as I place the lemon and lime slices in a bowl.

My eyes sting slightly and I squint. While everything around me is black and yet so loud, I try to calm my frayed nerves. My heartbeat speeds up and a shiver runs down my spine. I bite my lower lip and whirl around to the counter as a woman's voice calls for the waitress again.

I see him out of the corner of my eye as I'm mixing two Bloody Marys. "Have a nice evening," I murmur in a loud voice and push the glasses over to the blonde woman waiting impatiently for her drinks.

As soon as she's gone, I wipe my hands on my apron and take two or three steps to the left. From here I can see the pool table, and I swallow hard when I recognize Austin among the bikers. It's not unusual for the MC to come here, but it's nerve-wracking for me. It's the closest I've ever been to a bunch of law-breakers on roaring motorcycles.

Young - and attractive, very attractive. He is tall, wears washed-out blue jeans and a black sleeveless top, with his biker jacket over it and has dark blond unruly hair and crazy blue eyes with which he surveys the entire bar.

I take another step closer to the end of the counter and scrutinize him. Describing Austin as handsome doesn't even begin to do him justice. I bite my lip and continue to stare. I don't normally do this, but I can't help myself…he's just so good looking.

"Oh, my God," I moan softly and lean over the bar a little, standing on my tiptoes as Austin takes the pool stick from a younger guy. A prospect I guess. They're all wearing biker jackets and I can feel my pulse fluttering under my skin.

The jackets of the older members are decorated with various patches and the prospects wear completely naked jackets. I don't really know much about life in an MC, but I've overheard conversations from the girls at the bar and know that the prospects have to earn their patches. With character and courage, sometimes with strangely dangerous tasks and other times they have to take a beating. I think it's exaggerated and dangerous, but nobody asks me.

"Damn, kiss me, fuck me," I sigh and watch as he leans his upper body over the pool table, focuses on the balls in front of him and then shoots. An electric wave rushes through my entire body and I press my lips together helplessly.

"Yeah, you'd like that," Callie suddenly mumbles behind me, scaring the hell out of me. I don't even know that I said it out loud.

But Austin isn't paying any attention to me and is smoking his cigarettes and playing pool with his boys. I press my lips and eyes together in shame and turn to face to Callie. "I didn't…"

"Shut up, sweet girl," she puts a finger to my lips and leans closer to me, her lips almost touching my cheek as she murmurs in my ear: "I'd fuck him too. He's really hot."

The two of us watch Austin as he leans on the edge of the pool table with both arms. The subdued light makes shadows dance across the deep ridges of his muscles. His muscles are firm and pronounced and as he slowly raises his head, mumbles something to himself and shoos one of the contenders away, our eyes meet. I need a moment to find my voice again. If this man had any semblance of a middle-class and less dangerous life, I would probably throw myself at him. But he lives for the MC and that… is not for me.

I have been crushing on him since the first night he handed me his credit card, called me with a raspy voice Babgirl for once, and asked me to start a tab for him. That was the starting point and it only got worse from there.

I gasp out loud - once again I feel caught out tonight and as the corners of his mouth lift slowly and sensually, his lips curl into a knowing, dirty smile, my stomach tightens. I stumble back half a step and bump my back against Callie's torso.

"Sorry," I mumble breathlessly and turn around in a flash. I disappear into the break room and sit there for five minutes until my heart rate calms down.

Pull yourself together, my sense of honor whispers to me and pulls my shoulders back. It raises its little chin to the sky and then gives me an encouraging nod. Get out there and keep serving drinks, Elizabeth.

I have regained some control of myself as I step behind the bar. It takes all my mental strength not to turn my head and look back at the pool table, but I persevere. Over the next half hour, I continue to serve drinks and the memories of Austin are pushed back into my mind. However, the biting feeling of shame in my chest continues to remind me that I've made an idiot of myself.

That's just the way you are, the cynical little voice in my head etches, jabbing me in the ribs. Prudish, untouched and not wanted.

Austin is in a different league to me. I scrape together the last shreds of self-respect and lock all my thoughts of him away in a little box in the back of my head.

I am overcome with nausea and only by taking deep breaths do I manage to shake off the feeling. I turn to polishing more glasses when I suddenly feel a dark, slightly cheerful and vibrant presence behind me. My back muscles tense up and I lift my chin slightly. My senses are on alert.

I hope it's not Jimmy again, I think wistfully and curl my lips into an unpleasant grimace. Just as I've mentally resigned myself to having to deal with Jimmy today, I hear a pleasantly hoarse voice murmur: "Hey Babydoll, are you free?"

I stifle an annoyed groan and grit my teeth. Then I breathe in and out quietly before I start draining another glass of beer. Austin called me Babydoll, again and a tiny part of me likes it. Very much so. Apart from the life he leads, which I absolutely don't want for myself, he's insanely handsome. I mean, what's the big deal if I look at him from time to time. As far as I know, no one has ever died from being adored from afar. My self-esteem grinds its teeth alarmingly and crosses its arms in front of its chest. I shake my head slightly, worried about the direction my thoughts are taking, and grab another glass to polish. "I'm busy. Please leave me alone."

"Doesn't look particularly busy," Austin replies. "If you're already behind the bar-"

The day had started so well and now - after my embarrassing reaction to what? A brief eye contact and I'm done. I interrupt him, annoyed and angry at the lapse in my self-control. In one fluid motion, I turn to him and the words flow uninhibited from my lips: "Then what, asshole?"

Shit! I'm fucked, I think the moment I recognize my words. I open my eyes. My subconscious lifts its little head in shock and stares back and forth between me and Austin. It's completely beside itself and hisses angrily: Are you crazy? I stumble a step back and my butt bang against the back of the bar. My hands are shaking and I barely manage to put the glass of beer down on the counter.

A few seconds pass and everything around me suddenly happens in slow motion. The music is muffled and only reaches me to a limited extent, the shouts of the waiting guests are far away and the laughter over at the pool table barely touches me.

"Asshole, hmm? I wouldn't have trusted you to have such a dirty mouth, babygirl." Austin's ice-blue eyes scrutinize me attentively. The intensity of his gaze and demeanor gives me the creeps.

"Don't call me, babygirl", I grumble angrily. Then I hesitate and lower my gaze. I stare at my sneakers and then raise my head again, heart pounding. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have insulted you."

"Ohh, you can call me whatever you want. I've been called far worse," he laughs lightly and licks his lips.

Oh, I can immediately think of some suitable names; arrogant idiot, fool, arrogant ass…I follow the movements of his body and watch as he rests his elbows on the counter, his muscles bulging, and then murmurs dangerously darkly, "Why not? Do you have a boyfriend I should know about?"

"What?" I squeak and blink like crazy. "Do I what?", I add. My gaze is still glued to his lips. Wow, what pink, full lips. I wonder how they would feel on mine....hmm. Stop! I squint my eyes. No, I think angrily. He's a tease and he's making fun of me.

"Do you have a boyfriend, little girl?" he asks again, continuing to look me in the eye intensely as he leans a little further over the counter and reaches for a bottle of brandy.

"Hey," I grumble. "Put it back down," I demand of him and there's that amused glint in his eyes again. To my surprise, or perhaps more likely his own, he puts the bottle back down and raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. At least make me a drink."

I snort and step hesitantly on the spot. None of my colleagues seem to have noticed what's going on between him and me.

Then it suddenly occurs to me that he could get me fired quicker than I'd like. A nasty look from him and Tom, the owner will sack me. I lower my eyes to my feet once more and then tighten my shoulders. I take two steps to the front bar and pick up the bottle of brandy.

"With cola? With ice?," I ask and take a heavy crystal glass from one of the lower cupboards.

"No, just ice," he shakes his head and as I pour the brandy into the glass, he doesn't take his eyes off me. As I break some ice in the cooler, I don't notice how he slowly raises his left arm and shortly afterwards I feel his rough, warm knuckles on my cheek. When his knuckles touch my skin, I feel like sparks are flying. Embarrassed, I pull my head back. Must have been static energy. I blink, about as fast as my heart is beating. I lift my head slightly and look at him with a slightly trembling lower lip.

"What are you doing?", I whisper. "Please stop." I turn my head slightly to avoid his touch, even though it burns me and feels good.

Again, he doesn't answer my question. Instead, he repeats his, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Why does he want to know? He's certainly not checking out his chances with me. I inwardly roll my eyes at this unnecessary comment and the clear side-swipe from my subconscious.

I sigh half annoyed at his arrogance, half shocked that he's touching me. "No, I don't have a boyfriend. Please let go of me."

"That's a real shame," he murmurs, his husky voice doing strangely heated things to me. I'm blinking too fast, breathing too loudly and my hands are shaking badly as I put the full brandy glass on the counter and push it over to him. "You have really nice lips. Not as made up as the other girls here."

I turn deep red. Once again, and when he recognizes the heated glow on my cheeks, he finally leans back slowly. But before his knuckles leave my cheek, his thumb brushes over my bottom lip, tracing its outline. My breath catches and I can't move. Austin raises the glass to his lips and takes a small sip. "That really is a waste, babygirl," he replies, and I swallow hard.

As soon as the meaning of his words get through to me, I tear myself away from him. With unsteady legs, I stumble back and slap his hand away. "Stop it. I'm not one of your whores!"

I feel hurt and humiliated. Really offended by his words.

His eyes flash in astonishment. His slapped hand hovers in the air for a few moments and then he lowers it. He still looks unimpressed and completely calm. But the expression in his blue eyes has changed. In addition to the glitter, shadows now dance in his eyes and it's really creepy.

I really did beat him. Fuck!

Well, not really, but it was wrong. Now he has every reason to have me thrown out.

He strokes his own lip with the thumb that was just touching mine. The way he strokes his lips is hypnotizing and dangerous at the same time. "Hmmm… you're not really," he murmurs, fixing me very slowly. "If you were one, my hands would be around your pretty, slender neck right now."

He can't possibly be serious. My pulse quickens. Why is he upsetting me like this? Is it because of his outrageously good looks? Is it his penetrating gaze? Or is it because he keeps tracing his lower lip with his thumb and glaring at me menacingly? Can't he finally stop doing that?

I catch my breath and unconsciously lift my own hands to my neck. He grins wickedly. "Exactly… I would squeeze and squeeze until your eyes glaze over and your beautiful lips open slightly. I would make you beg and punish you", he confirms without any humor in his voice and stares at me.

"You're physotic," I reply in a low voice. I hardly trust my own voice anymore. The words slip out before I can stop them.

He gently shakes his head again, amused by my choice of words. Then everything happens very quickly. Austin leans over the bar again and grabs my wrist, pulling me towards him with a jerk. The tips of my feet touch the baseboard of the bar and I gasp in his face, startled and frightened.

I blink around, looking for help, but still no one is looking after me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Callie at the other end of the bar and I want to call out to her, but one look into Austin's eyes and I fall silent. He raises his free hand and brushes a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. My whole body trembles with tension and sheer fear.

"No, I'm not," he contradicts me. "I just grew up differently to you, babygirl," he explains, lowering his eyelids briefly. His voice is surprisingly soft. Austin stares at the neckline of my dress from above and can see my breasts rising and falling quickly. Then his eyes fall on my necklace. He licks his lips and takes the small cross between his fingers.

I expect him to say some stupid line about God and Jesus, but none of it comes out of his lips. Instead, he leans down so that his cheek brushes my chin and I raise my hands, clasping his wrist as he strokes my lips. "Just as innocent and pure as I suspected."

"You don't know anything about me", I stutter and in the next moment, I close my eyes and press my lips together. God, how can anyone be as stupid as me?

Austin is grinning and he is so close to me that I can breathe in his scent. He smells intoxicatingly of aftershave, soap and engine oil. I greedily soak up the smell.

"Oh no?" he asks, amused. "Then listen carefully Elizabeth. You're young, so damn pretty and innocent. I could have you broken and floating in five fucking minutes. Don't tell me you're a bad girl who kisses random strange men and spreads her legs," he stops and I jerk my eyes open. Austin leans back enough to look me in the eye again. "You're pure, you're perfect, and yet you're in this fucked up place…with me."

"Please let go off me", I beg.

Austin tilts his head slightly and looks at me. "You've got my attention now and I'm not done with you yet."

His words are both a threat and a promise. What does it all mean?

There are so many confusing thoughts chasing around in my head. I can't bring order to the chaos and when Austin brushes my lips again, muscles I didn't know I had tighten deep inside. "Do you know what the problem is with beautiful things in life, Elizabeth?"

I shake my head, barely noticing. Somehow I fear something bad and I try to pull away from him. The corners of his mouth twitch again. Sick bastard! He's having way too much fun with this whole thing. Intimidating young women like me and making fools of them is probably one of his habits. Austin smiles, fascinated, and loosens his grip on my wrist. A brief illusion of control and freedom that I try to take advantage of. I tug and tug, but he tightens his grip again.

"Shh, shh," he whispers. "You don't have to panic, babygirl. Just answer my question."

"I don't know, what's with the beautiful things, Austin?" I sound much whinier than I would like and shrug my shoulders cluelessly. I just want to get out of this bar and crawl into my little bed in the dorm.

"They are only beautiful until they are broken. What will break you?"

He loosens his grip and slowly lets go of me. I immediately increase the distance to him and wipe my palms over my cheeks. There are a few tears and I quickly wipe them away. Then I rub my wrist gently and look at him, scared and angry.

There is a satisfied, ashamed grin on his lips as he stands up and pushes the brandy glass over the counter. He toasts me and strolls back to the pool table.

I wrap my arms around my torso and try miserably to calm my nerves and my raging heartbeat. I just want to get out of here and wash the entire day off my skin. But when I look over at the wall clock, it's only 11 p.m.

I keep glancing nervously over my shoulder and catch Austin staring in my direction. Maybe this is another one of his strange habits, I think distractedly and purse my lips.

Then a rarely romantic thought rises up in the depths of my mind and I wonder if there is any hope left that there is still some light shimmering in Austin. I'm naïve, but not naïve enough to think I can change him. I realized early on that I'm not the girl that guys quit their jobs or move across the country for. A guy certainly wouldn't give up his lifestyle and values for me. Not when it involves motorcycling and a god damn MC.

It's after midnight when Callie goes into the break and the bar is half empty. I start refilling a few shots, washing glasses and wiping down the bar. When I've done everything behind the bar, I grab a fresh cloth and start wiping down the empty tables in the entrance area. I replace the burnt-out candles with new ones and refill the serving dispenser and cutlery.

It takes me about ten minutes to finish the first tables and say goodbye to the other regulars. Austin and his biker friends are still there. While some continue to play pool or darts, Austin sits on a chair. He sits upside down on it and leans his arms over the backrest, holding a half-empty glass in one hand. A cigarette burns between his lips and I quickly look away from him when I realize how much I'm staring at him. Just after… everything.

"This is so stupid," I mutter to myself after turning my back on him. "Get over him , Elizabeth!" I wipe down the next tables. Some have stains, others are sticky. I scrub like crazy. I'm finally done, my hands a little rough and dry from the detergent. Just as I'm about to disappear behind the counter, I bump into a guy.

I squeak, startled, and stammer: "Sorry, I didn't see you."

"No problem," a pleasantly warm voice replies, and I feel two large hands on my upper arms, gently pushing me back a few steps. "Didn't see you, sweetheart."

I think his name is Benny. He's so young and a prospect in the MC. He does the dirty work and has to be pushed around by the older members.

But for what?, I ask myself.

I take a closer look at him and notice that he has a nice smile, even though he's completely drunk. His brown, wispy hair sticks out in all directions. His dark eyes are narrowed.

"It's okay," I smile. "Maybe you should go home. You've had a lot to drink," I suggest in a cautious voice.

He looks at me silently for a breath, maybe two. Then he nods slightly and makes a slightly snivelling face. "I can't leave until the others do. That's what being new is like."

"Ohh," I gasp in surprise. "I didn't know that."

"It's alright", he reply. "You're really pretty by the way", Benny adds.

His thumbs rub lightly over my bare upper arms and I start to shiver. I tilt my head back slightly and giggle. "Really?" I ask. "Am I pretty?"

He frowns in confusion. "Yeah…"

"Benny, come here." A harsh, hoarse voice cuts through the air. I feel Benny's fingers tighten around my upper arms. Inevitably, I hold my breath and take half a step back. Benny drops his arms and when his hands leave my skin, I feel a chill run through me.

"I'm sorry," he begins. But once again his words are interrupted by Austin's hoarse, strained voice. I press my lips together and close my eyes.

"It was nice talking to you, Benny." I say with a small smile and circle around him.

Just before I stand behind the bar again, he murmurs in a q uiet voice, "I'd like to talk to you more often."

The corners of my mouth twitch and for the first time in a few hours, something feels normal, and nice. I nod slightly, "Okay Benny."

From a distance, I hear a chair scraping loudly across the wooden floor, and then Austin appears in the corner of my eye. He comes towards me with determined steps and I open my eyes in shock as he stretches out an arm and jerks Benny around by the shoulder. For a fraction of a moment, Benny is completely surprised, then he tries in vain to push Austin away from him. Austin wraps a hand around Benny's neck and holds him tight. But it is futile. Austin presses him closer to his chest and his lips almost touch the shell of Benny's ear as he whispers hoarsely in his ear. Meanwhile, his icy blue eyes lock on me. An unstoppable storm rages in them and I stumble back.

Benny looks completely tense. He nods mechanically to everything Austin hisses into his ear. Then Austin lets go of Benny's neck. I breathe a sigh of relief. My heart is pounding in my throat as Austin presses Benny's cheek flat against the sticky counter with a deafening slap. Benny groans painfully, but makes no sign of resisting.

"Do you hear me?" Austin hisses angrily. "You will never talk to her or look at her again or I'll break more than your fucking ribs."

"Austin," I scream, terrified. "He didn't do anything."

"Shut up, baby girl. He needs to learn his place." For a split second, I see something like humility and remorse in his eyes. Then it's gone, leaving behind the dark shadows and the raw aggression that runs through his veins.

I stumble back a few more steps until my legs hit the back of the counter. My fingers rebel as I clutch my hands hard around the edge of the counter, turning my head to the side as Austin pushes it down on the counter once more. A whimper escapes me and I immediately slap my hands over my face.

"Now take it like a man, Benny," he demands and lets him go. Austin takes a few steps away from him and takes off his jacket. He hands it to a guy with a long white beard. I think his name is Hank.

The scene in front of me makes no sense to me at all. I want to intervene and object, but I don't understand what this is all about. My lips open, but I close my mouth again. What should I say?

The other bikers have now also stood up and some of them, mainly the older ones, are watching the show with amusement. Then Knickers comes over to the bar and leans sideways on the counter. He gives me a surprisingly sympathetic look. As if he can grasp my confusion, he says, "It's not personal, sweetheart. Those are the rules at the MC and Benny has to respect them."

"But he only spoke to me," I mumble in exasperation. Austin's lips are curled into a promising grin. The tip of his tongue darts out from between his lips and he moistens them. Then he raises his hand and holds up exactly one finger. "You have one free stroke, Benny. Then I'll finish you off."

"What?" I gasp. "Hank?" I chastise in shock and open my eyes. "He's not really hitting him, is he?"

"Relax, little one. It'll be over quickly." He pats my hand like I'm five years old.

"No." I shake my head wildly. "I can't let that happen." I'm halfway to stepping out from behind the bar when Knickers grabs my hand, gently but firmly. "Stay here, little one. Austin can be a moody son of a bitch, but he's fair."

Fair?! This is a really bad joke. I audibly expel the air from my lungs and watch as Austin encourages Benny with a wave of his hand. "Go on!" he shouts.

Benny raises his fists and in the next moment he dashes forward with a big stride. He swings his right fist and misses Austin's chin by a hair's breadth. I squeal and squeeze Hank's hand.

Then they circle each other like predators and it's as if Austin is taunting him and deliberately not landing any hits. A frightening darkness flickers in his blue eyes again and I bite my lower lip. Benny takes advantage of the moment of inattention and delivers a brutal left uppercut to Austin. I squeeze my eyes shut and the next time I open them, Austin is wiping his thumb over his split lip and spitting blood onto the scratched wooden floor of the bar.

"You little fucker!" Austin curses and spits again, this time right at Benny's feet. This is followed by two quick steps and a combination of uppercuts and frontal punches to Benny's ribcage.

A deafening crack followed by pain-filled moans pierces the bar and my ears. Benny sinks to his knees and a breath later Austin pushes him to the floor and starts hitting him with wild combinations of punches. All I can see is spurting blood and hear loud, uncontrolled breathing.

I pull my hand out from under Hank's and flee to the back of the bar. As soon as I reach the back office, I push through the crack in the door and close the door behind me. Salty tears run down my cheeks and I try to contain the adrenaline rushing through my body. I stroke my cheeks, then my hair and walk in circles.

My head is spinning. What the hell just happened? What have I got myself into?

"Fuck," I mumble breathlessly. "Benny…what have I done," I cry. I throw myself onto the brown leather couch and pull my legs close to my chest, crying bitter tears. I am overcome by a wave of guilt. It all happened so fast - one second I was wiping the table and the next Austin was pining over some poor, innocent guy…because of me. I am the reason for this outburst of brutal, bloody violence. My chest rises and falls heavily and I gasp desperately for air. Tears blur my vision and I sniffle, and sniffle. It's no use and within a few minutes my nose is completely blocked and my cheeks are burning from the salty tears. I wipe my face roughly with my hands.

I'm so lost in my thoughts and tears that I don't even notice the heavy footsteps approaching me. It's only when the office door opens and Austin steps into the room that I raise my head, startled. My legs tremble and my fingers feel numb and cold as I struggle to my feet. Defiantly, I jut my chin up and sniffle: "I didn't invite you in."

"You didn't have to, babygirl," he replies harshly.

Damn it, go away, I plead silently and when he doesn't move, I scrutinize him from head to toe. My gaze first falls on his clenched fists. His knuckles are swollen, partially burst open and full of blood. I feel sick in an instant. I quickly turn my eyes away from his hands and look him in the face. His ice-blue eyes gleam wildly and impenetrably in my direction and I bite my lower lip. His lower lip has split open and blood is slowly drying on his chin. I swallow hard and turn away from him. "I don't want to see you. Please go away!"

Again, there is no answer. I don't hear the door either and the next moment I feel two warm, large hands resting on my upper arms and turning me around. His arrogance pisses me off and I want to scream at him, but at the same time I'm terrified of him. Austin has just beaten up a man…over an innocent conversation.

"That's not true," he insists in a gentle voice. "Why are you crying?" he whispers. He hugs me to him with one arm while he lets the fingers of his other hand glide tenderly over my cheek. I avert my gaze and close my eyes. His fingertips trace the contours of my face and when his thumb strokes my lower lip, his breath catches and I open my eyes. Austin looks me in the eye, and I return his smoldering, bewildered gaze before his shapely mouth catches my attention. Despite the swelling already setting in and the dried blood, his lips are still pink and full. For the first time in my twenty-one years of life, I want to be kissed. Even if all the circumstances speak against it.

Damn it, kiss me!, I beg him silently.

"You hit him," I whisper in a trembling voice. I'm paralyzed, completely captivated by him. I stare at his mouth, spellbound, and Austin looks down at me with a darkly veiled gaze. He cups his palm around my cheek and chin. His touch forces me to lean towards him.

"He was looking at you," he explains and I stare at him, confused.

What? "Just like every other guest tonight. Do you even hear what you're saying?" I ask, frowning. I raise my arms and press my palms to his chest, which turns out to be a clear mistake. He doesn't move an inch and feeling his warm, firm muscles and heartbeat under my fingers feels so wrong and yet so outrageously good.

"Even if I explained it to you, you wouldn't understand," he sighs and strokes my cheek again. This time his cracked knuckles touch my skin and I flinch. Austin shows no pain, though. "The rules in MC are very specific. He had to understand that there are rules, and you're one of them, babygirl." He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head almost imperceptibly, as if to answer my unspoken question. When he opens his eyes again, the expression in his blue eyes is distant and there is a steely determination in them.

"Elizabeth, I'm exactly what you don't want out of life," he whispers.

Excuse me? How does he know that? Where did this sudden change of direction come from? Surely that's my decision alone, even if he's absolutely right and my reason applauds his words. My thoughts swirl out of disappointment at his confusing rejection. "You don't want me! I'm fucked up," he announces, swallowing hard. "I'd only break you," he adds hoarsely, gently pushing me away from him.

No!, my subconscious screams as he detaches himself from me and half turns away. Suddenly I feel very lonely and exposed. He watches my reaction carefully and a thought flashes through my mind: I wanted to be kissed, I made it damn obvious, and he didn't do it. He doesn't desire me.

I feel like a naive fool.

"You can't just say something like that and then walk away!" I mutter indignantly. The disappointment at his rejection and the cryptic meaning of his words make me angry. I grab his wrist and force him to look at me. "What do you mean I'm part of these MC rules?"

Austin looks at me silently for a while. Then he nods slowly and licks his lips. "Okay babygirl," he murmurs softly.

How can just a few words sound so enticing? I let go of his wrist and sit down on the brown couch. I look at him expectantly and watch as he somehow searches for the right words. Wow! I didn't think it was possible that someone like him - dark and dangerous - could be speechless; reaching for the right words.

"Some of us enjoy certain…privileges because of our rank in the club. We eat first, drink first, pick women," he pauses and rubs his knuckles together. "I picked you, and that includes the other guys keeping their distance from you."

"You did what? Picked me out, reserved me?" I shout at him angrily and stand up. I don't normally tend to use loud words and I immediately lower my voice again. Shouting has never helped anyone.

I straighten my shoulders and stare at Austin. My pulse starts to race. Something tightens in my stomach and the next moment I push past him wordlessly to leave the room. I can't believe it - I feel objectified, like an thing that can be reserved. My eyes start to sting again and I bite the inside of my cheek. This evening is a nightmare. I just want it to be over and I can leave. I'm sure if I find Callie and tell her I'm not feeling well, she'll let me go.

Just as I grasp the doorknob, an arm wraps around my waist from behind and spins me around. I collide with Austin's chest and gasp in shock. His fingertips tighten their grip around my waist and squeeze the fabric of my dress. He grabs my chin with his other hand and forces me to look him in the eye. My lower lip trembles and my choppy breath collides with his as I open my lips slightly. Austin stares at me, dark and promising. Is he going to kiss me after all?, I wonder, and in the next moment I receive a powerful jab between the ribs. My inner voice warns me and shrieks wildly. Fight him off, growls my subconscious. I silence it.

"Yes and no…I was protecting you with it, Elizabeth! Don't you understand that at all?" he asks, his jaw grinding.

How is he trying to protect me? He reserves me and puts his brand on me, and then?

"Protecting me? You're kinding right, Austin." I roll my eyes and press my hands against his chest. I desperately try to break away from him, but he won't let me escape. I turn my head jerkily and tear myself away from an engaging touch.

I hit his damn hard chest again. Son of a bitch!

He doesn't budge an inch and I realize how my nerves are slipping away from me repeatedly that evening. My blows become more uncoordinated, sluggish and weaker until my palms are just resting on his chest.

He lifts my chin again and I reluctantly give in. "Would you rather I kept my mouth shut and let some random guy throw dirty comments at you, grab your ass or pull you out of their laps, huh?"

I shake my head dejectedly and pause for a moment. I take a moment to memorize the sight of him. I have him to thank for the fact that I have mostly been left alone for the last two months, neither adjusted nor pulled onto any laps…after all the silence and my silent, bittersweet pining, he is still looking at me. Why me? I don't understand.

We remain silent. All thoughts are blown away and what remains is darkness and emptiness in my head. I risk a furtive glance up at him and at his lips. When Austin notices, his lips twitch.

He tightens the grip of his arm around my waist a little more and presses my upper body against his. My hands are now trapped between our bodies and suddenly the atmosphere in the room changes. Maybe it's because we're in such close quarters, or maybe it's because the hint of blood mingles with his unmistakable scent and numbs my senses. Tense, heated anticipation is in the air. My breathing and pulse quicken and he lowers his head a little. His eyes shimmer like liquid ice water and I bite my lip.

"Oh, shit!" he curses. "Maybe I'll regret this later, but I want to break you so badly, Elizabeth." He wraps one hand around the back of my neck and before I know it, his hips are pressing against mine. My God! I can't move my hands and desperately stand on my toes as one of his lips touches mine and he kisses me. His lips soften beyond measure and I moan into his mouth as I taste the blood. His tongue explores my mouth and then my own glides over his. I slowly feel my way forward and then our tongues begin an erotic dance. He spins me around and pushes me backwards a few steps until my ass touches the edge of the desk. I can feel his erection against my stomach. Wow… it's explosive.

We are both breathing heavily when the kiss ends. "You're amazing and beautiful," he gasps.

Beautiful. The compliment brings a blush to my cheeks. Austin thinks I'm beautiful. I risk a glance into his glowing eyes.

"Have you ever been kissed by anyone?"

"No," I whisper back. I do my best not to sink into the floor with embarrassment. Well…maybe Bobby tried to kiss me once in high school…never mind. It was childish and not worth mentioning.

"How is it that no guy has knocked you out yet? I don't get it. Men must be crazy about you." Suddenly my mouth is numb. Austin runs his fingers down the back of my neck and twists my braid around his wrist, forcing me to look him in the eye. I suck in the electrifying air around us. He gives me a wolfish grin, and I promptly feel that strange tugging in my abdomen again.

"You really are pure, so perfect." His thumb glides over my lower lip. His words act like an accelerant on me; my blood boils. He leans down to me, kisses me passionately and sucks on my lower lip. I moan and he smiles against my lips. "How old are you, Elizabeth?" he then asks in a low, raspy voice and I frown at his curiosity.

Why does he suddenly want to know? I swallow and open my mouth. "I'm twenty-one, almost twenty-two."

Something dark flashes in his eyes that I can't place. "How old are you?" I ask before I can stop myself.

A shadow flickers across his eyes and he continues to trace my bottom lip. "Thirty-three."

Oh man! There are several years between us. I slowly pull my hands back and intertwine my fingers.

"I really should leave you alone. You're far too young for me. Far too beautiful and I shouldn't want to break you."

It's that little compliment again. It's the second time he's said that he thinks I'm beautiful. I try to hide my stupid grin. Do you hear me now? He wants to break you?. my inner voice is shouting at me. My subconscious raises its head weakly. At least it's still alive. It's been suspiciously quiet for the last few minutes. Where was it when I needed it?

"What happens if you stay?" I whisper and his breath catches. "What happens then?", I add.

He grins darkly. "I don't know if you're naïve or just inexperienced, but you're remarkably brave," he says, his voice hoarse.

His words encourage me. They set me completely on fire and I press myself closer to his body. My hand trembles as I lift it and slide it along his neck. Austin freezes at the touch and blinks about as fast as my heart beats. My eyes fall on his lips again and I blush. He kissed me with those lips…wow.

I take the next step and run my fingers from his neck to his cheek to his chin. The blond stubble feels surprisingly soft and I look at his slightly swollen lips. The blood has dried and a crust is slowly forming. My fingertips hover in the air and I hold my breath with a pounding heart as I touch his lips. "Does it hurt?"

I don't know who this hurts more. Him or me. Austin stands perfectly still, not making a move. Only his fingers twitch around my waist and send pleasant shivers down my spine. "Not really. I've had far worse injuries after a fight," he explains with a sphinx smile. He opens his mouth slightly and licks my fingertips with his tongue. I gasp and then it takes my breath away. Why is that so sexy?

"Would you feel better if you tended to my wounds?" he whispers, hitting the mark with his words. I would really feel better if I knew that nothing was wrong with him. Not really I mean…my inner goddess sleepily lifts her head as she realizes we're about to touch Austin again. Suddenly she is wide awake and full of energy.

I nod gently and he releases me with a confident grin. My breathing is shallow; I can't take my eyes off him. He grabs a first aid kit from the filing cabinet next to the couch and places it on the desk next to me.

"Ready?", he asks.

"Hmmm," I hum and he puts his hands on my hips. He lifts me up in a flash and sits me on the tabletop. I squeak and open my eyes. Now I'm almost at eye level with him and he smiles in amusement at my reaction.

I turn my gaze away from him and take the first aid kit in my hands. I open the zipper and examine the contents. There are plasters, bandages, cleaning cloths, gloves and… condoms. My cheeks flash deep red. It's not really much, but it will be enough. I press my lips together in concentration and think hard about what to start with. I've never treated anyone after a fight before.

"Clean first, then treat", he helps me out.

Then I expel the unconsciously held air from my lungs and grab a bottle of disinfectant. I pour some of the blue, alcoholic liquid onto a white cloth and hesitate, muttering, "It'll probably sting."

Austin's eyes twinkle in amusement. "Go on, babygirl. I can take it."

I dab gently over his forehead, his cheeks, and when I reach his lips, his hands suddenly settle on my thighs, clasping with gentle pressure. My movements stutter and he grins smugly. What a bastard!

I squint slightly and press the cloth against his lips harder than necessary, wiping away the dried blood. Austin hisses softly and now I'm the one smiling with satisfaction. Ha!

"I didn't know you could be sadistic," he teases, watching me put the cloth away and reach for some ointment. A wave of heat chases through my body again.

"I'm not," I contradict and demand: "Hold still", I command then.

The corners of his mouth twitch, but he holds still. I put a little ointment on my index finger and stroke his eyebrow, his left cheek and his lips. He breathes in loudly through his nose while I concentrate on my work.

"Just keep telling yourself that," Austin murmurs, and a feeling of hot lust flashes through me. He stands in front of me, looks me in the eye. He's so damn sexy.

I ignore his words and ask instead: "Have you been caught anywhere else?"

"I don't know." He shrugs and then whispers playfully, "But you're welcome to look, Elizabeth."

I gasp for air. He's clearly taking the piss.

"I'm serious, Austin."

His fingers twitch around my thighs again and squeeze lightly. His palms are warm and rough. Every slightest movement of his hands makes all the senses in my body sing on high alert.

"Me too, babygirl." His hands wander up my thighs and reach the hem of my dress. My heart stops beating.

"Do you have any idea how seductive you are, Elizabeth?" He lets his hands wander tenderly over my thighs and pushes the red, fluffy fabric up. I automatically spread my legs for him and he steps closer to me. "Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?", he adds as I whimper softly.

The muscles deep inside me contract deliciously. I would love to close my eyes, but the wild expression in his blue eyes hypnotizes me. Unpredictable waves of lust and darkness break in his eyes and I want to drown in them. He releases one hand from my thigh and I immediately miss the feel of his warm fingers there. But then he curves his hand half around my chin, half down my neck and leans in for a short, sweet kiss.

"Once you say yes, there's no going back," he whispers and as I realize he's not only offering me a warning, but also a way out of this messed up, heated situation, my nerves are completely shot. I breathe in and out frantically. I can almost feel the chaotic feelings - or is it the hormones? -that are coursing through my body. The voice of reason calls out to me and holds out its small hand. Ready to take flight with me, but I stare at Austin unblinking. I want him so much, even though all reason rebels inside me. I wrap my hands around his upper arms and feel his firm biceps.

His blond hair is tousled, his black shirt clings tightly to his chest - his blue eyes flash out at you. "Yes, please," I whisper. Honestly, I'm not sure what exactly I want from him. I'm just sure that I don't want him to let go of me and walk away.

"Please what?", he asks teasingly. His gaze is very intense, half in the shadows and half in the dim light of the office.

"Please kiss me, touch me, Austin." ...fuck me. As soon as the words have left my lips, he kisses me again. So wishes can come true after all.

He breaks away from me, his face only centimetres away from mine. "I'm not exactly known for being gentle, babygirl. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You know that, don't you?" He sounds very serious, almost desperate, and his eyes are glowing. His words surprise me.

Who would have thought that this handsome, tough biker would care about my well-being. "I would never do anything I didn't want to." As soon as I get the words over my lips, I'm not so sure anymore. Right now, I'd probably do anything he asked of me. My answer seems to satisfy him, though.

"Show me!", I demand and the corners of his mouth twitch furiously. His lips meet mine again and the kiss is unlike anything I've ever experienced before. Not that there's much to compare it to.

He strokes the contours of my lips with his tongue and asks for entrance. I open my mouth and our tongues touch. A muffled moan escapes me and he intensifies the kiss. Then his lips leave mine and he breathes feather-light, moist kisses on my jaw and neck. When he starts to suck on a sensitive spot under my ear, I shiver.

"You react very intensely," he whispers huskily. "Your skin is so soft and you smell good," he adds.

Why does he say he can't be affectionate? His words make my arms and legs melt and heat rushes through my veins.

Austin lets go of my chin and grabs my own with his hand, pressing it to his chest. My fingertips twitch and I feel a surge of nervousness race through me. He wants me to touch him, it occurs to me, and I run my palm hesitantly over his bulging pecs. He pulls his head back so far that he can look at me and I breathe heavily. I avoid his gaze and continue to stroke his covered upper body. Despite the fabric, I can feel his warmth and the hardness of his muscles. Both his hands rest on my thighs again and this time he doesn't stop at the hem of my dress. He grips the hem and crumples the fabric in his fists, pulling it up until he catches a glimpse of my white lace panties. Luckily I'm wearing nice underwear!

"Fuck," he growls and licks his lips. "Your skin is flawless. I want to smell and taste you. and get you all dirty, baybgirl."

His uninhibited, rough words totally arouse me. I turn red. His dirty words are in stark contrast to his gentle touch. His fingers glide over the insides of my thighs and he spreads them wider. I'm putty in his hands. He exhales audibly and closes his eyes as he runs the knuckles of his right hand over the soft lace fabric. I gasp for air and my toes curl in my shoes. Oh…how can I feel that touch down there?

"I love delicate lace," he murmurs, pushing the red fabric of my dress further up and stroking the lace pattern of my panties with the fingers of one hand. His next kiss is demanding, his tongue and lips teasing mine. I cling to him and crumple the fabric of his black shirt. He presses his body against mine, pushing my upper body back until I'm lying half on the tabletop. One hand clasps my bare thigh, the other moves down my back to my waist and my bum. As he thrusts his hips forward, I feel his erection.

I let out a muffled moan and swallow his quick breath as he kisses me again. I carefully stroke his neck and hair. It is soft and yet unruly. I tug gently and he moans hoarsely. He runs one hand over my collarbone and pushes me down onto my elbows with the flat of his palm on my chest. The cold wooden board collides with my bare arms and sends shivers down my body.

I expect him to undress me, but he doesn't. He lets go of me, straightens up and sinks to his knees, grips both my thighs and pulls me jerkily towards the edge of the table. He's not going to, or? My inner goddess swings her hips in boundless anticipation, while a little voice in my head whispers doubts. However, I don't have time to get to grips with the chaos in my head. My legs float in the air and then they suddenly rest on his broad shoulders and I close my eyes, fluttering. He kisses the inside of my thighs and gently scratches my hip bone with his teeth. He gently nibbles and kisses his way from my left hip bone to my belly button and sinks his tongue there. I moan again.

Seeing him on his knees in front of me and feeling his mouth on my skin is unexpected and exciting. My whole body is on fire and the excitement comes over me in waves. I try in vain to control my loud breathing. He looks up at me with his blue eyes under his incredibly long eyelashes, kneads my thighs and licks his lips. His nose grazes my skin down there. Before I know it, he leans forward and pushes his nose between my thighs. I can feel him down there. His hot breath collides with my own warmth. Oh God!

"Hmmm…you smell so good," he murmurs, inhaling deeply. I let myself fall back onto the tabletop and chew my lip. Something seems to explode deep inside me.

He blows lightly against my covered centre and I shiver. "Ohh," I whisper and he chuckles. He spreads my legs wider and bends my knees upwards. I'm completely exposed and can't think a sensible thought as Austin drags his knuckles over my centre. Although the touch is light as a feather, I can feel the reverberations all the way to my abdomen. I press a hand to my mouth and gasp for air. Oh boy, that's intense.

When I briefly lift my head, there is a sensual expression in his eyes and he lowers his lips. His lips move over the thin lace of my panties and he growls. The vibration reverberates deep inside me. One of his hands grabs my briefs and pushes them aside, revealing me and then I feel his lips on my bare skin for the first time. I moan, feel the pulsation between my thighs and how wet I am. Please, I beg silently as one of his arms wraps around my stomach and stops me from wriggling around. I clutch his forearm and dig my fingernails into his skin.

"Have you ever touched yourself and brought yourself to orgasm?" he whispers smokily.

I try my best to sound offended. "Yes," I breathe breathlessly - but none of my touching has felt anything like what you do.

"Maybe one day I'll watch you rub that sweet little pearl and moan breathlessly."

In the depths of my foggy mind, the thought arises that I might even like it. To see him in front of me, half naked, and his eyes are only on me. That would be definitly something.

His lips open and with the next breath I feel his tongue. The tip of his tongue slowly and sensually circles my clit. His fingers part my labia and when he briefly lifts his head and blows against my wet centre, my body rears up. But Austin holds my hips in an iron grip and I sigh in sweet agony. He doesn't let up and continues his sensual assault.

"Now let me explore this litte thight hole." He strokes my entrance with one finger and I feel my muscles tense and pulsate down there. He pushes a finger inside me, again and again.

When he stops circling my clitoris and starts sucking lightly instead, my vision blurs and all my muscles tense up. Something knots in my stomach and I chase after a tingling flicker. His finger pumps into me at a steady pace, becoming more urgent as he adds another. A cry of pleasure escapes me as he speeds up.

"Please," I beg and throw my head back. My lips open and my legs tense and tremble.

"Let go, babygirl." His teeth scrape over my clitoris and he slides two fingers inside me. Just before he pulls them out again, he curves his fingertips and grazes a sensitive spot inside me. My eyes go black and I see stars. I cry out and freeze. The madness! I've never experienced anything like it.

My eyelids are heavy as I flutter them open again. He lifts his eyes and looks at me with a satisfied, dark grin. I return his smile shyly and am sure that I have just collided with the sun. I feel like Icarus who flew too close to the sun and got burnt.

I come down from my orgasm with a gasp. His hands glide over my thighs and he slowly rises from his knees. I prop myself up on my elbows and watch as he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls the fabric over his head. Oh wow…Adonis and David's michelangelo can pack their bags next to him. Austin is outrageously hot. A light film of sweat glistens on his skin and I wander with his eyes over the peaks and valleys of his pronounced muscles. My mouth is watering and I'm suddenly overcome with the desire to taste him on my lips. I straighten up into a sitting position and reach out for him.

Excitement and triumph dance around in his gaze and he breathes heavily. "How was that?" he asks in a raspy voice.

I blink and think about what would be a suitable answer. Exciting, explosive… definitely world-shattering. "Good," I whisper back. He laughs and grabs my face with both hands. Then he kisses me and I taste my own arousal…it's dirty…and exciting…and feels far too good.

"You're killing me. How can you be so innocent?"" With his fingers he gently grips my wrist and directs my movements up his chest and along his ribcage, then down to his stomach and my fingers graze the path of blond hair disappearing under his waistband. I stare at the spot where our hands rest and widen my eyes as I see the bulge in his jeans.

I swallow hard and there's that promising, dangerous grin on his lips again. He lets go of my wrist and unbuttons his jeans, then pulls down the zip. I hold my breath. His palm is pressed against his erection and he closes his fist around his cock. I slide my fingers over his upper stomach muscles and they tense under my touch. It's a heavenly feeling to be so turned on. He pushes his jeans down and kicks his boots off his feet. Then he's standing in front of me in just black, tight-fitting boxer shorts and when his fingers slip under the fabric, I bite my lip. Tense excitement slowly builds up and watching him touch himself blows my mind… insane!

Austin takes half a step closer to me and wraps his other hand around my chin. I crane my head and sigh as he kisses me again. It's wild and hard on the edge of pain as he presses my head back and stretches my neck muscles. This time I feel braver and search for his with my tongue. He moans in surprise at my initiative into my mouth. I slide my hands further down his stomach and touch his forearm. He's still pumping his hard cock and I wrap my fingers around his forearm and wrist.

"Let me…" I stammer awkwardly. His muscles quiver under my fingers. "Show me how…"

He nods and pulls off his boxer shorts. My eyes widen. His cock is big. The tip is red and wet, and he grabs my hand again. "Keep your fingers loose, babygirl," he instructs me and I obey. When I look into his eyes, there's a lewd grin on his lips. I want to punch him in the face, but I'm too nervous and curious about what's going to happen next. He clearly enjoys my stunned expression and lays a quick kiss on my lips. It's smooth, wide and beautiful. I want to touch him, but I don't know how.

Austin leans down to my ear. His lips brush the sensitive skin there and I lick my lips in anticipation. Hm…all right.

He guides my hand towards his penis and whispers. "Close your fingers." I close my fingers into a fist and gasp. His cock is much harder than I expected in my hand, but also soft and warm. "First slow and firm," he whispers, moving my hand up and down, and his eyes shimmer like boundless oceans as he looks at me. He sets the pace for my movements. My mouth is slightly open, I lower my gaze and watch our hands glide up and down, mesmerised. It's fascinating how the wet tip of his cock keeps disappearing and reappearing between my fingers. I wonder what he tastes like?

"That's it, babygirl." He lets go of my hand and cups my face with both hands, then leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes in pleasure. Seeing him where…aroused and out of control fires me up and I grow bolder. When he thrusts his hips forward slightly, I involuntarily tighten my grip.

A deep groan echoes from his chest. Ha! He likes it and a new, electrifying warmth spreads through my chest. It's a sound I'd like to hear more often. I remember Callie and the other girls talking about blokes and how they like it. So I speed up my movements a little and at the same time carefully slide my thumb over his glans. I watch his reaction carefully.

"Shit", he growls in a deep voice. Austin opens his eyes, and I repeat the slide of my thumb. I also start to twist my fist a little with the up and down movements and get another deep, hoarse moan from Austin. He's both hard and soft, like steel, covered in velvet, and when I switch hands, bringing my wet thumb to my lips, he tastes amazing, good, a little salty. While I'm not so sure about this flavor, one look at ihim and I don't care. Seeing him so aroused and wild is worth it.

Austin groans and thrusts his hips towards me more and more often. I continue with the twisting pumping movements of my hand. I feel powerful! My tiny little inner goddess is delighted with my skill. I can drive him crazy with my hand. Again I let my thumb glide over his tip and his hips jerk. "Fuck, babygirl and you've never done this before?," he growls and when I make a sign to lean forward, he shakes his head breathlessly.

I bite my lip and shake my head. "Never."

Why not? Before I can sulk, he whispers: "If you curve those pretty pink lips around my cock now, I'll come deep down your throat." I feel the muscles in his legs tighten and he breathes heavily as he closes his hand around my wrist, slowing my movements before pulling my fingers away from his cock.

My pulse quickens as he grabs the hem of my dress and pulls it over my head. Now I'm only wearing my white lace bra. "I'd much rather feel your tight little pussy around my cock when I come."

I shudder at his crude words and he flicks my bra open, slips it over my shoulders and as the cool room air brushes my breasts, my nipples harden. His fingers glide over my one breast as he kisses my neck. He rolls his thumb over my nipple and I feel a longing tug between my thighs. His lips leave wet kisses on my neck, my collarbone and when he cups my one nipple, I threaten to burst.

The next second he kisses me again passionately, completely wildly and wraps his arms around my back. He lifts me off the tabletop and stands me on my own feet. I cling to him with wobbly legs. But before I can wrap my arms around his naked torso, he turns me around so that my bare back touches his chest. He grab a condom package. What is he up to?

"You're really pretty, Elizabeth," he whispers and I shudder. His hands wander over my shoulders and down my arms. Then they rest on my hips, exploring the soft skin of my lower back, and when he slides one palm between my shoulder blades and presses me forward onto the ice-cold tabletop, alarm bells start ringing in my head.

He wants to take me from behind. I press my palms on the tabletop and push against him. His palm presses further into my back and I panic.

No!, my little inner goddess screams indignantly. This is not how she and I had imagined my first time. Part of me resigned myself some time ago to the fact that there would be no roses, candles and sweet words, but being taken from behind… hard, that's absolutely non-negotiable for me.

The echo of Austin's words reverberates through my head. I'm not exactly known for being gentle, babygirl.

I realize that if I don't say anything now, he will take me from behind. He's probably used to getting his way and the women he normally fucks have long since resigned themselves to not experiencing romance or expressing their desires. But I'm certainly no whore…I grit my teeth as he traces the contours of my ass with his fingers.

I feel his warm body firmly behind me and as his fingers slide between my thighs, I press my legs together, even though it feels damn good to be touched by him. I lift my head, "No!"

He pauses in his movements. "No, what?" Austin asks roughly.

I take a deep breath and think about what to say. "No," I repeat stupidly. "I don't want it like this. You're not going to take me from behind like one of your whores."

The pressure of his palm on my back finally disappears and I straighten up. When I turn around, there's an indefinable expression in his eyes and I swallow. He looks so lost; like I've slapped him in the face. Oh, Austin.

For a fraction of a moment, I can see through the walls he's built around himself. He frowns in confusion. Austin almost doesn't understand my objections, but then it hits me like a blow. How could he know otherwise? That's the way he lives, and it makes me a little sad.

It's the first time I've seen something like vulnerability flicker in his eyes. Austin seems speechless and overwhelmed. So if I want this to work, I have to do something.

I don't have any sexual experience, but I know what I don't want. That includes a hard fuck from behind. I sigh softly and wrap my arms around his chest. Then I stand on my tiptoes and lift my chin until my lips hover over his.

He finally wakes up from his stupor and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is different - somehow full of emotion and when he puts one arm around my upper back and the other around my bottom, I press myself against him. We are both breathing heavily when the kiss ends and he suddenly lifts me up. I automatically wrap my legs around his hips and he walks over to the couch. He sits down with me on his lap and his hard cock slides right between my labia. I freeze and shudder at the same time.

"Once you say yes, there's no going back," he mumbles and it feels like deja vu.

"Please take me," I whisper and press myself against his naked body. I don't know where the courage comes from, but I lean my cheek against his, lick the shell of his ear and rock my hips against his lap. "You're not going to break me right now, Austin," I add in a soft, gentle voice. Even though there are some doubts in my mind about that, I continue to encourage him. At least not immediately and completely, my little subconscious grumbles.

I dispel the unpleasant thoughts in my head and blow a kiss on his jaw. His hands glide over my back and within a breath he has spun us round and my back is pressed into the seat of the couch. I blink and shiver like a deer in headlights. So it's really happening. Bloody hell! Now I'm getting a little scared. I think of his big cock. How is that supposed to happen? How?

Austin pushes his knees between my thighs and leans over me. His arms are propped up next to my head and I stare up at him from below. My mouth is dry as dust and I whimper softly.

He slides one of his hands round the back of my neck and holds my head in place. As he lowers himself onto his elbow, our naked bodies touch and his hard pecs rub over my sensitive, hard nipples. I gasp and follow his words as he murmurs, surprisingly calmly, "Pull your knees up a little."

I look between our bodies and chew on my lip as the tip of his cock rubs over my clit and then slides along my labia. A pleasant muffled sound suddenly hums in my ears and I don't know whether it's me moaning or him. "Take a deep breath and relax, babygirl. I'll let it pass quickly."

I lift my head and take a shaky breath. I wrap my arms around his ribcage and press my fingers into his warm, firm skin in joyful yet anxious anticipation.

His glans slides further down and as he pushes his hips forwards a little, he finds my entrance. His blue eyes glow intensely and unyielding desire, lust and the devil of darkness dance a tango in them. I close my eyes and take another breath. Then he lowers his forehead against mine and whispers in a smoky voice, "I'm going to enjoy breaking you, Elizabeth. Quick and dirty until there's nothing left of you, babygirl." I open my eyes and he thrusts his hips forward, penetrating me deep with a single thrust.

The unaccustomed stretch burns and the feeling of being completely full squeezes all the air out of your lungs. I gasp for air and squeeze my eyes shut. A whimper escapes me and when Austin's fingertips twitch on my neck and he kisses my cheeks, I realise I'm crying.

"Ah, you're so fucking tight," he whispers and kisses me. All my muscles are tensed to the breaking point and only when his lips part and his teeth pull lightly on my lower lip does a little tension leave my body.

I'm out of breath and a ball of fire races down my spine and explodes between my thighs as he slowly pulls back and then slides back inside me. More fluid and deeper this time; I run my hands from his ribcage to his cheek to his hair. I bury the fingers of one hand in his unruly hair and tilt my head back as the burning sensation turns into a less urgent pain and subsides.

"That's it!" he praises me and slides out of me, only to penetrate me more firmly the next moment.

I press my lips into the crook of his neck and lick and suck at his skin. "Austin," I moan, overwhelmed.

"You take me so well, babygirl." He gyrates his hips and new sensations race through my body again. My toes curl and I wrap one leg around his hips. He sucks on my neck and scratches my sweaty skin with his mouth and teeth open. "You smell so good."

I melt under him. Why does he say he can't do the romantic thing?

Before I can follow the loose thread of thoughts in my head, he lifts his head and his eyes lock on me. His fingers slide from my neck to my throat and wrap around it. I blink at him under half-lowered lids and then his thumb slides over my parted lips and he grins wolfishly. His eyes darken as my hot breath hits his thumb and then something unexpected happens. The grip of his hand around my neck tightens. He squeezes the air out of me with controlled pressure. It's close to the pain threshold and I panic.

The corners of his mouth twitch devilishly and his eyes darken. He savours the hint of my panic and as I slide my hands out of his hair and around his wrist, he intensifies his gyrating hip movements. I groan again and notice a tingling sensation building in the depths of my muscles…just like before when he knelt between my legs. I swallow restricted by his hand and the grin on his lips darkens into something…more dangerous, more unbreakable.

In something that really scares me. Scraps of memories from the past few hours appear before my eyes. Austin's first grab for my wrist at the bar, then the gruelling back and forth of our gazes across the evening, to the fight with Benny, and his lips between my thighs.

Austin narrows his eyes and licks his pink lips. His thrusts alternate between fast, and slow and hard. Then he changes the angle of his hips, leaning from his elbow back onto his hand. He wraps his fingers around my neck a few shades tighter and I gasp slightly.

Panic flutters over my body and I try to squeeze my legs together. But with him between my legs and over my body, I hardly have a chance to defend myself or move. He enjoys my reluctance and takes pleasure in my burgeoning panic. Sick bastard!

"Yes," he grins devilishly. "Lose yourself in desire, babygirl." His thumbnail traces my lip and then slides into my mouth. My vision blurs and I suck on his thumb. He growls and suddenly there's no holding back. Austin speeds up his movements; sliding in and out of me, again and again with heavy breaths, and I melt beneath him.

The panic and my desire for redemption are close together. I can't keep the two feelings apart as they blur and send hot, cold shivers through me.

"You look so pretty underneath me," he whispers. "So fragile," he pushes hard again. "So wonderfully dishevelled," another hard thrust. "…and so fucking wet around my cock. Do you like that, babygirl?" His thrusts are hard on the edge of pain and as the tingling continues to brew in my stomach, spreading through my arms and legs, my eyes begin to water.

"Austin", I shout. Go easy on me, I beg silently. The grip of my hands around his forearm weakens and as he realises this, he loosens his vice-like grip and oxygen floods my airways.

I gasp and scream with pleasure as my orgasm approaches. "Come for me," Austin whispers, breathing heavily, and I burst into a million pieces. He thrusts hard a few more times until he comes too and pours my name into me, panting.

While I try to calm my racing pulse, my thoughts sink into chaos. Wow… that was amazing. That was… erotic and psychotic.

He lowers himself onto his elbows and presses his entire body weight onto me. He breathes loudly and heavily into the crook of my neck and I pull out my arms, which are now trapped between us, and wrap them around his neck. His muscles twitch under my fingers and he is still inside me. Then he lifts his head slowly and looks at me with a dark gaze. The unstoppable storm in his eyes has receded and for a brief moment I think I recognise something like warmth and tenderness on his face, but then he shuts up again.

Austin kisses me softly and then murmurs as he looks at me, "I've never seen soemthing that was so beautiful while I was breaking it."

It's strange that he says something like that. Basically, I don't feel broken, just cracked open. I swallow, barely comprehending his words. Austin has cracked my hard shell, and sticky, sweet infatuation oozes out of me.

He slowly slides out of me and I close my eyes. "Oh." I wince at the unfamiliar sensation and immediately wrap my arms tighter around his back as he try to stand up. "Please stay. Just a minute."

Confusion flickers in his eyes again, but he nods almost imperceptibly and lowers his face into the crook of my neck. To be honest, I don't know what I'm doing, but asking him to stay feels terribly intimate. Austin isn't the kind of guy you cuddle with, but a tiny spark of hope ignites in my chest as he relaxes over me and stays put.

I run my fingers through his slightly sweaty hair and enjoy the weight of his body on me. "Are you okay?" he asks, still hiding his face in the crook of my neck.

I hesitate and close my eyes. For a moment, I hush inside my body. A bittersweet burning sensation sets in between my legs now that the arousal has subsided and my muscles feel heavy. Tomorrow I will have sore muscles everywhere. A giggle escapes me and he lifts his head. I slap a hand over my mouth and mumble, "Sorry. It's just so ironic that you ask me that after you…well…choked me."

His blue eyes glow. "I'm well aware of that," he says dryly, lowering his gaze to my neck. His fingertips gently stroke the sensitive skin and I sigh silently. "Was I too rough? I know I can be pretty wild", he adds.

Pretty wild and hot. A little scary and controlling, but hot. I give him a gentle smile and kiss his jaw. "I'm okay, but thank you."

Now that he has cracked my hard shell, the feelings just bubble out of me. Butterflies are dancing around in my stomach and I know that things will only get worse from here on out.

I feel strangely cared for as he rubs his knuckles over my neck and whispers: "Your skin is so beautifully red from my hands." He drags his thumbnail across the edge of my chin and my toes tense. My body twitches beneath him and he grins triumphantly.

Then he leans towards me and kisses me tenderly. Just as I'm about to lose myself in his lips, he ends the kiss and makes an effort to get up.

That's it now, isn't it, I think disappointedly. No, that can't be all. My subconscious lazily lifts its little head and blinks at me. Where has it been for the last hour? It eyes me skeptically and shakes my shoulders. Pull yourself together, Elizabeth. Understand that he doesn't stand for romance. He's rough, wild and unrestrained. I grin mischievously at the thought.

I watch Austin stand up and reach for his boxers and jeans. He quickly puts them on and when he reaches for his shirt, I'm on my feet in a flash and pick it up off the floor. He gives me a wolfish, playful look.

"What are you doing, babygirl?" he asks, clicking his tongue.

I realize I'm still completely naked, and in another situation I'd be damn uncomfortable, but I try to stop him. At the ridiculous performance, my sense of honor props his face in his small hands and shakes his head. Fuck that! This can't be the end.

"I don't want you to go." The words pass my lips before I can stop them and his eyes widen.

Then he looks at me very seriously and comes towards me. He reaches out a hand and curls it around the back of my neck, forcing me to look at him. "I'm not staying the night-guy. I'm just not like that, babygirl," he states dryly.

Everything inside me roars. I know, I know. I press his shirt against my bare breasts with both fists. The bitter disappointment that he wants to leave and leave me alone hits me unexpectedly. Even though the sensible part of me had foreseen all of this.

"So you're done with me now after you broke me?" I sound more emotional than I should. I taste the bitter truth of my words on my tongue. Austin blinks at me, startled by my emotional outburst, and rubs the back of his neck with one hand.

"Don't do that. Don't make it so hard on yourself, Elizabeth," he murmurs. "You knew what you were getting yourself into. I'm not your prince in shining armor."

I squint my eyes. "Obviously." I sound hurt and biting. He takes a step closer to rip the shirt from my hands. I shake my head, barely noticing. I dare him to do that!

"So I'm only worth one fuck?" I then ask, suppressing the trembling in my voice with all my might. "Got it. that you won't take me out or love me, but do you have to be such a bastard. You just took my virginity and you're so - ah -," I mumble angrily, my tongue flicking out of my mouth. "…such a fucking bastard! Couldn't you at least have had the decency to cuddle me for a few more minutes?"

Austin grinds his jaw and his blue eyes flash emotionlessly. The hardness in his gaze makes my blood freeze in my veins. "It's better if you're angry with me. Hate me if you have to, but don't fall in love with me. You don't want me in your life," he makes it clear and rips the shirt from my hands.

Too late, I think.

"It scares you," I say, startled. As the words slip past my lips, his eyes widen and he freezes in front of me. Apparently I've hit the bull's eye. "You finally care about something in life besides your MC and now you're trying to push me away by being disgusting to me. Stop it, you son of a bitch!"

Austin growls. "No, you're wrong." He leans his lips so close to my ear that I can feel his warm breath on my skin. "That didn't mean anything to me with you. It was just a fuck."

My pulse quickens and I jut my chin out. Even though his words hit me hard, I blink into his eyes and murmur, "If it didn't mean anything to you, you can spend the night with me. It wouldn't change anything, right?" I raise an eyebrow defiantly, and the moment Austin inhales loudly through his nose and licks his lips, I know I've hit his sense of honor.

Maybe my provocation is pathetic and maybe I'm making a fool of myself because it really meant nothing to him, but in the way his muscles tense and the corners of his mouth twitch, I know I've found a vulnerable spot.

"Fine," he grumbles in a low voice. "As soon as the sun comes up, I'm gone. Come here." I can hardly believe my triumph and I stifle a squeak with all my might. His big hand clasps mine and pulls me towards him. "Lift your arms," he instructs me and pulls his muscle shirt over me. Then he picks up my panties and helps me into them. I watch him without comment and bathe in the tingling waves of my little victory.

He walks with me by the hand to the couch and lies down. His back is half leaning against the backrest and when he spreads his legs and pulls me between them, I almost trip over my feet. Austin wraps his arms around me and looks tense as I rest my cheek on his bare chest. I close my eyes and just before I fall into a dreamless sleep, I feel his fingers stroking my hair and a soft, husky voice. "Maybe you just mean too much to me."

Hey FELLAS ❤️

OMG, I can't even believe I wrote this emotional and steamy adventure! Please commet down below your thoughts and feedback! It would mean the world to me if you reblog the post, show it to your friends and community or like it 🫢

It would make me the happierst author in the world if you (my fave people) commet down belong.

tagging: @bloodynereid @obsessedvibee @avonne-writes @austinbutlermischief @austinbutlerslovers @hogans-heroes @sempervera @sagesolsticewrites

xoxo callumsgirl

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

In The Stars.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here x

in which, harry is remembering you, his beloved wife, mother of his child, that passed away, this is him grieving, remembering the lives that the two of you shared together and will always share together, no matter the circumstances.

word count - 2.8k

warnings: mentioned of death, mentions of breast cancer.

April, 2010.

❛ Sunday mornings were your favorite

I used to meet you down on Woods Creek Road

You did your hair up like you were famous

Even though it's only church where we were goin’ ❜

As Harry strolled down Woods Creek Road on a Sunday morning in the summer of 2010, the sun cast a warm glow over the quaint street.

His heart raced with anticipation as he made his way to meet his girlfriend, who awaited him at their usual meeting spot on the corner.

The two of you were meeting up just like the two of you did every Sunday morning before heading to church and meeting up with your families. It was a little ritual that would forever be engraved in your hearts.

You stood there, radiant in a pretty light pink summer dress, your hair elegantly styled up in a bun, giving you an air of effortless grace. Even though you were just headed to church, you always carried yourself as if you were destined for the spotlight.

As Harry approached, he couldn't help but admire how stunning you looked, a sense of pride swelling within him for being the one lucky enough to call you his own. Your eyes met, and a smile lit up your face, sending a rush of warmth through Harry's veins.

"Hey pretty girl," Harry greeted you, his voice filled with affection as he reached out to take your hand in his.

"Hey, H," you replied, your voice soft and filled with love. "You look handsome today."

Harry chuckled, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks at your compliment. "Thanks, pretty. You always look beautiful."

Together, hand in hand, you made your way to church, the sound of birds chirping and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze accompanying your steps.

As the duo walked hand in hand towards the church, he couldn't help but admire her beauty once again.

"You know it's only church that we're going," Harry teased with a playful grin, nudging her gently.

She laughed, a melodic sound that echoed through the quiet street.

"I wore this dress to look good for you," she replied, her eyes sparkling with affection.

Harry's heart swelled with love for her.

"And you always do," he said earnestly, pulling her closer. "Y’could be wearing a paper bag and you'd still look pretty."

She blushed at his words, leaning into him. "You're too sweet, H."

They continued their stroll, their conversation peppered with laughter and affectionate glances,

February, 2024.

❛ Now, Sunday mornings, I just sleep in

It's like I buried my faith with you

I'm screamin' at a God I don't know if I believe in

'Cause I don't know what else I can do ❜

In the dimly lit room, Harry lay tangled in the sheets of what used to be their shared bed. The curtains were drawn tightly shut, blocking out the world beyond, as if he hadn't felt the warmth of the sun in ages.

His once vibrant eyes were hollow, filled with a pain that seemed to consume him.

Sunday mornings had lost their luster, their meaning stripped away along with the love he had lost. He no longer had the will to rise from bed, to face a world that felt empty and devoid of purpose without her by his side.

Staring at the photo of a toddler on his bedside table, being held by his darling wife was a painful reminder of what once was, whilst the toddler slept in there room next door, you were no where to be found.

Harry felt a wave of anguish wash over him. He had buried his faith along with her, his heart screaming out to a God he no longer knew if he believed in.

Tears welled up in his eyes, his chest constricting with the weight of his sorrow. He longed for her presence, for the warmth of her touch, but she was gone, leaving behind a void that seemed impossible to fill.

In the silence of the room, Harry found himself grappling with a pain so profound, he didn't know what else to do but scream into the void, hoping for some semblance of solace in a world that had turned its back on him.

Harry felt a wave of anguish wash over him. With trembling hands, he reached out and grabbed the photo of his wife, holding it close to his chest as tears streamed down his face.

"Why did y’take her?" he screamed into the empty room, his voice cracking with pain. "It should ‘ave been me!"

His cries echoed off the walls, a raw expression of the agony that consumed him. He clutched the photo tightly, as if holding onto it could somehow bring her back to him, could somehow ease the unbearable pain of her absence.

But she was gone, and Harry was left alone in a world that seemed intent on tearing him apart.

January, 2024.

❛ I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever ❜

"H," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper, "I want to see her grow up. I want to see her graduate, get married, have children of her own."

You were referring to your and harrys freshly turned two year old daughter Grace Anne Styles, she was everything to the two of you, with her fathers curly hair and signature green eyes, her personality was all you, kind, caring and nurturing.

The sterile scent of the hospital mingled with the faint whir of machines monitoring your vital signs, creating an atmosphere heavy with uncertainty.

Six months ago, when you were diagnosed with breast cancer, Harry had clung to hope like a lifeline, determined to fight alongside you every step of the way. But as each day passed, that hope dwindled, replaced by a gnawing fear of what the future held.

You lay in the bed, your once vibrant spirit now dimmed by the relentless assault of the disease. Cancer had robbed you of your strength, leaving you fragile and frail. Your hair, once a cascade of curls that framed your face with warmth, had been replaced by a bald scalp, a stark reminder of the battle you fought with every breath.

Even your wedding rings, symbols of the love you and Harry shared, no longer fit your slender fingers, so he wore them on a chain around his neck, keeping them close to his heart.

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he reached out to take your hand in his.

"You will, pretty girl," he said softly, his voice filled with determination. "Y’going to get better, I know it."

But deep down, Harry couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his chest, the fear that he might lose you before you had the chance to see your dreams fulfilled.

So, as you drifted off to sleep, he sat by your bedside, his heart heavy with the weight of impending loss.

"I don't want to say goodbye," he whispered into the darkness, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because this one means forever."

He brushed a tear from his cheek as he watched over you, vowing to cherish every precious moment they had left together, unwilling to let go of the love that had defined their lives.

April, 2024.

❛ And now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers❜

As Harry sat in the garden with Grace nestled in his lap, the night enveloped them in its quiet embrace. The stars twinkled overhead, their distant light casting a soft glow over the garden, while the faint crackle of embers from the nearby fire pit added to the ambiance. But despite the beauty of the night, Harry couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of loneliness that washed over him.

All day little Grace had asked about seeing mummy so who was harry to deny her of that?

"Look, Daddy! Look at all the stars!" Grace exclaimed, her small finger pointing up at the shimmering sky.

Harry forced a smile, his heart heavy with the weight of your absence.

"They're beautiful, aren't they, sweet girl?" he replied, his voice tinged with sadness.

"Yeah, but I still can't see Mommy," Grace said, her voice filled with longing. "When is she coming?"

“I’m not sure sweet girl,” Harry's heart shattered at her words, the pain of your loss echoing in his chest.

"I know you miss her, sweet girl," he said softly, pulling her closer. "I miss her too, but she’s always going to be up there isn’t she? up in the stars watching over me and you.”

"I want to see her," Grace insisted, her bottom lip trembling.

Harry's eyes welled up with tears as he looked down at his daughter, her innocent face filled with confusion and sorrow.

"I know, sweet girl," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "I wish I could bring her back for you."

"Why can't you, Daddy?" Grace asked, her voice tinged with frustration.

Harry's heart clenched at her words, the weight of his grief pressing down on him like a lead weight.

"Because she's in the stars now, sweetheart," he explained gently, his voice trembling.

Grace's eyes filled with tears as she buried her face in Harry's chest, her small body shaking with sobs.

"I want Mommy," she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Harry held her tightly, his own tears mingling with hers as he struggled to find the words to comfort her.

"I know, sweet girl," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I want mommy too."

February, 2024.

❛ Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

And left the rest in pieces ❜

As Harry sat in front of the photo of the two of you on your wedding day, the memories came flooding back like a tidal wave crashing over him.

The room felt empty, the silence deafening, as he clutched the half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. With Grace sleeping at his mom's house for the night, he was left alone with his thoughts, the weight of your absence pressing down on him like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, it hurts so hard," Harry whispered, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, as if afraid to disturb the stillness of the room.

He traced the outline of your face in the photo, his fingertips lingering on the curve of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes. The love they shared had been pure and unconditional, a bond that seemed unbreakable. But now, with you gone, Harry felt like a ship lost at sea, adrift in a vast ocean of loneliness and despair.

"You took the best of my heart," he murmured, his voice thick with tears,

And he didn’t want to admit that the rest was left in puzzle pieces.

Tears streamed down his face as he poured himself another glass of wine, the bitter taste doing little to dull the ache in his heart. He felt like he was suffocating, drowning in a sea of memories that threatened to swallow him whole.

"Why did y’have to go?" Harry whispered, his voice filled with anguish as he stared at the photo, as if willing it to provide him with answers. "We were supposed to grow old together, to watch Grace grow up, to share a lifetime of memories."

But the photo remained silent, a frozen moment in time that offered no solace, no comfort in the face of his pain. And as Harry sat alone in the darkness, he realized that no amount of wine could dull the ache of your absence, no words could bring you back to him.

"I miss you, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "More than words can say."

June, 2024.

❛ Diggin' through your old birthday letters

A crumpled 20 still in the box

I don't think that I could ever find a way to spend it

Even if it's the last 20 that I've got, oh ❜

the weight of your absence felt heavier than ever. Today was Grace's third birthday, a day meant to be filled with joy and celebration, but instead, it served as a painful reminder of the life you should have been there to share.

With trembling hands, Harry sifted through the stack of cards, each one a precious memento of the love you poured into every aspect of your daughter's life. He ran his fingers over the familiar handwriting, his heart breaking with each heartfelt message penned by your hand.

But then, something caught his eye at the bottom of the box—a crumpled £20 note. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he unfolded the worn bill, his fingers trembling as he realized its significance. It was the last £20 that you had given him, tucked away as a surprise in one of Grace's birthday cards.

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he stared at the crumpled note, his heart aching with the weight of your absence. He had never been able to bring himself to spend it, holding onto it like a lifeline to the memories of the life they had shared together.

"Mommy got y’something special," Harry said softly, his voice thick with emotion, as he called Grace into the room. "This card is from her."

Grace's eyes widened with excitement as she took the card from Harry's outstretched hand, her fingers tracing the familiar handwriting.

"From Mommy?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder as Harry also handed her the crumpled £20.

"What are you going to spend the money on, sweet girl?" Harry asked gently, his voice tinged with sadness as he looked into his daughter's innocent eyes.

Grace's brows furrowed slightly as she considered her father's question. After a moment of thoughtful silence, she looked up at Harry with a determined expression.

"M’going to buy some happiness," she replied softly, her voice filled with sincerity. "So that you can be happy, Daddy."

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he gazed at his daughter, her words piercing through the veil of his grief like a ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Tears welled up in his eyes as he reached out to pull Grace into a tight embrace.

"Oh, sweet girl," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Y’already make me happier than I ever thought possible."

February, 2025.

❛ I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever

And now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers ❜

The anniversary of your death was a cruel reminder of the void that now existed in his life, a void that could never be filled. He set down the bouquet of flowers he had brought, their vibrant colors stark against the somber backdrop of the cemetery.

"M’still holding on to everything that's dead and gone," Harry whispered, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, as if afraid to disturb the silence of the graveyard.

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he sat down beside your grave, the cold earth beneath him a painful reminder of the finality of death. He traced the letters of your name etched into the headstone, his fingers trembling with grief.

"And now you're in the stars, and six-feet's never felt so far," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Y’should be here, by m’side and we should be living life like we were supposed to be doing, I shouldn’t be visiting your gave, s’too unfair."

"I brought you y’favorite flowers," he said softly, his voice choked with emotion. "I hope you like them."

He paused, as if waiting for a response that would never come. The silence of the cemetery enveloped him like a shroud, amplifying the ache in his heart.

"I wish you were here," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wish we could have just one more day together."

Tears streamed down Harry's face as he poured out his heart to you, his words a mix of sorrow and longing.

"Grace is growing up so fast," he continued, his voice trembling with emotion. "She's so much like you, y’know? Sometimes it feels like you're still here, watching over us."

He reached out to touch the cold marble of your headstone, his fingers tracing the letters of your name.

"I miss you every day," he confessed, his voice breaking with grief. "I don't know how to live without you."

As Harry spoke, memories flooded his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love you had shared.

"Do y’remember our first date?" he asked softly, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I was so nervous, but you made me feel like everything was going to be okay."

He wiped away his tears, his heart heavy with the weight of your absence.

"I wish I could turn back time," he whispered, his voice filled with regret. "I wish I could tell y’how much I love you one more time."

And then, with a heavy heart, Harry pressed a kiss to your grave, his lips lingering on the cold stone as if seeking solace in its unforgiving surface.

"Goodbye, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of the wind.

“Until we meet again.”