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emeritus-fuckers · 2 months

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need jimbo headcanons im starved.

maybe father jim with a more dominant s/o? (either sfw or nsfw is fine, also masculine or gn please <3 )

but how would he react to someone who did that necessary fall into his little game easily? would he loose interest or be into it type shi.

Father Jim DeFroque with a dominant sexual partner

He doesn't mind.

I've said it once and I'll say it again, a relationship with him is purely sexual.

And as much as this man enjoys fucking, he's a little whore when he gets the chance to be fucked.

Slutshame the priest as you rail him stupid.

He's a sucker for mean doms.

To the point of being verbally abused, honestly.

CBT. That's all I wanna say.

Squeeze his balls.

Step on his dick.

Treat him like the whore he is. He will let you and beg for more.

If you're AMAB, fill him with cum. Or cum all over him. He's gonna love both.

Overstimulate him to oblivion (haha the elder scrolls reference).

Shove his face into your crotch. Make him use his mouth for something useful for once.

When this man is topped, he's into being borderline abused.

Be rough. Wreck him. Do it. You know you wanna.

Written by Nosferatu.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @thecuriouss @dio-niisio @the-fem1n1ne-urge @thatoddboy @ouijaboardemo @emo-mess @igodownjustlikeholymary

#ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #ask #anon #ghost band x reader #ghost bc x reader #ghost x reader #father jim defroque x reader #father jim defroque #father defroque x reader #father defroque #father jim x reader #father jim

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angellayercake · 1 year

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Eating with the sinners

Papa Emeritus IV x Father Jim DeFroque | NSFW/MDNI | AO3

When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw him eating with the sinners and tax collectors, they asked his disciples: “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” On hearing this, Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” Mark 2:16-17

'Blah blah Jim is bad' Yes I am well aware thank you and that is why he is so fun to write. Let the religious corruption kink fandom enjoy some damn good religious corruption please and thank you. If it isn't for you just keep scrolling or click the handy dandy back button. And if it is for you please enjoy :)

He groaned as he felt it dripping down his face, he was so close just needed something, a little bit more. Alone, knelt in the middle of the stadium under a beam of light desperate to find his completion. He heard him before he saw him. His measured steps echoing in the vast empty space.

‘Seeking absolution Father?’ The Italian lilt of his deep voice never failed to send a shiver down his spine. He thought he had left him at the bar when these nice gentlemen had invited him to join their team building activity but apparently not.

‘Seeking somethin that's for sure.’ His own voice came out breathier than he liked but given his current preoccupation it was what it was. He let out a moan as he reached down to massage his balls as he continued the steady rhythm on his cock, thumbing the head on every up stroke.

The white eye, unnerving under normal circumstances, practically shone in the darkness as he watched, he always watched, never participated. If there ever was a time Jim wished that would change it was right now. Closing his eyes he whispered a prayer. ‘Let him help me, Lord, find completion in your name. So that I may honour you with my body as I do with my soul.’

He was wrung out, his work never over. His days were spent ministering to the faithful, the successful, helping them to the light through their generosity with the guidance of the Lord and his word. But his nights spent reaching out to the damned, thanks to the guidance of this man. To help them he had to understand them, delve into the depths of their depravity and then bring them back to peace. The responsibility was a burden but one he bore gladly if it meant returning sinners to the fold of the Almighty.

And how could he not when he was following the example of Christ himself. When he had first met this man, the Italian with a spark in his eye, an interest in the Lord that rivalled Jim’s own and tight tight trousers, he had questioned why a man of the cloth would spend his time with such company. ‘Those who are healthy have no need for a physician, but those who are sick do. John 5:31.’ He had told him. He had simply nodded and Jim knew then that they were on the same mission.

‘Our Lord would be so proud of you, Father, bringing all those people to sin.’ His motion stuttered as he heard him speak but he must have misheard. He was so close now, almost close enough that Jim could reach out and touch him. Redoubling his efforts on his own cock he watched the material around his crotch stretch and tighten around his obvious arousal. ‘Ensuring their souls are condemned.’

‘To heaven?’ What else could he mean? They were men of God weren’t they? Learning the ways of the sinners so they may deliver them from evil because you can not defeat evil if you do not understand it.

‘No Father,’ He laughs but doesn’t elaborate instead grabbing the back of his head, fingers clenching in his hair and forcing his head up at an uncomfortable angle until all he can see is eyes. He can feel the hardness now where his chin is pressed into his crotch and he can't help but whine at all the sensation as he continues pulling away frantically at his cock. The pleasure and the high all clouding his mind, the topic of their brief conversation slipping from him.

‘You have never resisted a temptation in your life have you Father?’ He asks as he pulls back working the laces of his trousers loose to free his erection. It’s thick and red and already weeping and all Jim can think of is tasting him.

‘He will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.’ Even as distracted as he is, the scripture slides from his tongue as though he was standing in front of his congregation.

‘Corinthians 10:13? I don’t think this is quite what He meant but if you wish to endure I can help with this.’ He uses the grip on his hair to drag him closer and angle his head so he slides straight into his mouth and down his throat.

‘People like you Father, you are the problem. You preach and you take and you judge and you condemn. You think that because you can quote the bible, because you whisper your silly apologies in prayer that you are good.’ If he could concentrate on anything other than the cock in his mouth he wouldn’t like what he was hearing but he was powerless to reply while getting fucked so thoroughly and he couldn’t resist the urge to swallow around the intrusion taking him as deep as he could.

‘Forgive me Father for I let a whore give me road head? Forgive me Father for snorting coke off of your book? Forgive me Father for letting eight strapping young men come on my face? Forgive me Father for misleading your so say faithful and using their donations to fund my excess? He may forgive all of that I suppose, I do not know.’ He punctuated each question with a hard deep thrust that had Jim scratching at his thighs and gagging around his thick cock.

‘Will your God forgive you for letting the Antichrist fuck your face?’ If he could think he would be ashamed of how he came thrusting against his shin as he ripped his face away from him leaving him gasping for air and drooling. He falls to the floor without the firm grip keeping him upright, landing in the puddle of his own spend.

‘What about this one Father?’ He grunts as he takes himself in hand. ‘The one who does what is sinful is of the devil, because the devil has been sinning from the beginning. John 3:8.’ He grunts as he finally comes adding to the stripes painting Jim's already soiled face. He jumps as each stream lands, the words finally sinking in as he scrambles back from the man standing above him, reaching under his shirt for his crucifix but finding it missing.

‘Looking for this Father?’ The chain is twisted around his fingers, the cross dangling in between swaying in a hypnotising rhythm and as it sways the figure of Christ twists and warps until all he can is a serpent, fangs bared and ready to lunge.

‘What are you?’ He hisses, voice cracking in fear and from the recent misuse of his throat, hands gripping at himself to try and erase what he had just done as the man laughs at him. He pulls open the collar of his shirt and it is there in black and white, over his heart, the mark of the beast.

‘I am the Devil, I suppose,’ his pointed teeth glint in the weak beam of light as he leans over, pinning him in place with his gaze, the horrid white eye seeming to pierce into his very soul. ‘Your sinning Father, it was so deviant, so twisted. I had to come and see for myself.’

‘No, NO!’ He finds the strength to get to his knees somehow and starts to pray even as he feels the the effects of the night start to take a toll on his body. He will not let the devil take him now. ‘Father in the name of Jesus Christ. I plead with you to break any chain that the devil has on me…’ A loud evil laugh cuts through his prayers and he falters, strength failing as he falls to the floor once more.

‘And Jesus said unto him, ‘Away from me Satan! For it is written, worship the Lord your God and serve only him’ Matthew 4:10.’ But the devil before him just continued to laugh, the grating sound ringing around the space and echoing in his mind. He presses his hands over his ears to block it out as he staggers backwards and away.

‘I have not influenced you Father, I am just here to honour one of my most loyal subjects.’ He feels those talented fingers scratch through his soiled hair working through where it has begun to matt and dry and he almost almost succumbs to the touch but no, he is stronger than this he knows and he must never bow to the devil. He pushes the hand away rising to his feet, feeling righteous energy coursing through him. He knew he was right, that he was doing the Lord's work. This was just a test of his faith, a test that he must pass.

‘Begone, Demon!’ He spits hoping it sounds as full of conviction as he feels. But the other man just laughs once again as he leaves. He laughs and laughs and laughs as he backs away, almost disappearing into the darkness except for that god forsaken white eye.

‘It’s a little bit late for that, don't you think Father?’ He follows with a measured swinging step so calm even as he makes an obscene gesture at his crotch. ‘Jesus said no before I had the chance to get my dick out.’ He can only shake his head in disbelief. No he would not accept what this foul creature was saying but he runs out of time, his back hitting the wall and then that thing was pressed up against him. He has to suppress a shiver at his proximity, his body not having caught up to what had been revealed this night. ‘You took me so well Jim don’t you want to do it again?’ He feels his voice as much as hears it and knows he must not fail here. This is the true temptation.

I hope you enjoyed the food @tasty-ribz and thank you @ghostchems for your help as always 💜

‘I’ll be seeing you Jim.’ He crushes down the jolt of something he feels at the prospect. He has been tested this night and by the Grace of God he has passed. He must continue on his course and bring the light of his Lord to all sinners. Smoothing down his shirt and righting his collar he checks his watch, just enough time to get back for morning mass and to his faithful flock. ‘For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to those of us being saved it is the power of God. Corinthians 1:18.’

#Papa Emeritus IV x Father Jim #Jim DeFroque #Father Jim #Papa Emeritus IV #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfiction #my writing

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roryintheir90s · 1 year

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Jimmy doesn’t even have his empires ep out, but Father Jim already has me in a choke hold.

#father Jim #father jimmy #empires smp #empires s2 #jimmy solidarity #solidarity gaming #solidaritygaming #happyROMEO thoughts

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ravengards-rogue · 2 months

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i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#zero.writes #rogues love letters #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption x reader #this is so lovesick and silly i feel so miserable #I AM A JOHN GIRL. BUT. well that deadbeat father and bastard isnt gonna write you love letters like arthur im afraid

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infinite-orangepeel · 1 year

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this is so hopper giving his speech at the steddie wedding. making endless dad jokes and embarrassing the hell out of both of them. i’m just imaging him saying something like:

hopper: you never think your future son-in-law is going to turn out to be the same kid you arrested upwards of twenty times when he was in high school but here i am to tell the tale—

eddie: i was also wanted for murder

hopper: don’t bring that up here please. for the love of god. you have no idea how much paper work it took for me to get your name cleared.

steve: i’m pretty sure he was arrested at least thirty times

hopper: like i said folks, you don’t get to choose family and sometimes family is your adopted gay son and his metalhead husband who spent a solid three years living on your couch—

steve: well at least now when i bail him out of jail it’ll be as my husband. i can even sign the paperwork as “mr. steve munson”

eddie: aw babe that’s so sweet

hopper: don’t push it you two

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shanastoryteller · 2 months

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Happy Valentines Day Shana!! 💕💕 Sybok and Jim contiuation? I wanna see more of Sybok teasing the shit out of Spock for his oblivious crush

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

It's rude to speak in a language not everyone present speaks, however Sybok became immune to social niceties around the time his father stopped bringing him to official functions. He switches to High Vulcan to say, "We can tell her I picked you up off an Orion slave ship."

Uhura's right eye twitches.

"She can understand you," Jimmy says. "She's a xenolinguist."

Bones's eyes narrow. He's so much more indignant in person than in the background of Jimmy's video calls. "What are you going on about now? I hate when you do this. I always feel like you're planning how to dispose of my body."

Jimmy had told him that Bones had started studying Vulcan. He'd also told him that he was incredibly bad at it, but not everyone can be Jimmy, which was realistically probably for the best.

He drops down to standard Vulcan to say, "Ah, so you have a talented tongue," since there's really no way to say that in High Vulcan that's a double entendre. It doesn't help that most of their potentially risque phrases are hand rather than mouth oriented, but he's learned to make do.

Spock turns an unhealthy shade of pale as his eyes widen the tiniest amount in abject horror.

Uhura raises her eyebrow in a way that reminds him of his brother. "To master a language is the study of a lifetime. I would be most appreciative if you were to give me a hand in achieving this endeavor."

Spock's skin flushes and he looks around like he's seriously considering running away from this conversation.

Sybok is delighted.

"Uhurua!" Jimmy shouts, hands on his hips. "Come on! I say that to you and you don't even let me buy you a drink, but you'll just proposition Sybok in the middle of the hallway?"

"She did what?" Bones hisses.

That is one possible interpretation of her words.

"I might have gotten around to propositioning you too," she says, "if you hadn't gotten your ass beat."

"Okay, I think I did okay, actually," Jimmy argues while Bones's face morphs into an expression eerily similar to Spock's.

He loves Earth.

#we haven't quite reached crush stage yet #spock admires jim on a theoretical level #and on a practical one finds him to be the most annoying person on several planets #OF COURSE this is sybok's best friend #spock does regret not being there to watch his father interact with jim for the first time #maybe his father even made a facial expression #prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #star trek

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emeritus-fuckers · 3 months

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Dare I ask for... Father Jim Defroque who accidentally caught actual feelings for the reader? (NSFW or SFW, I just want to see this pathetic man panic at the realization that he's the one doing the simping for once)

Father Jim DeFroque catching feelings

He did not like this.

He did not like this at all. You were supposed to be a fun little thing. Just one of the people he'd use to get his sexual frustrations. Get a little kinky and then leave you some money, both to "thank" you and to keep your pretty little mouth shut.

And yet, here he was, on a very simple walk. Passing a jewelry store. thinking about how good you'd look with one of the necklaces that he saw on display around your neck. He liked kissing your neck. Biting it, leaving hickeys... He liked keeping you marked up for him.

It was just like making you wear a collar, he justified to himself. Just a different one. And he would stick to that. He didn't buy it because he wanted to give you a gift. He bought it as a sexual favor. It's just to fuck you again. That's it.

The next time he texts you for a night out, he's convincing himself it's just to fuck you. You were an easy fuck. That was it. Quick and easy. Good with your mouth, too. He liked having you blow him in the car. And then getting completely wasted together, only to have you bouncing on his cock in the same hotel room every time.

And that was it. There was nothing more to it.

The warm feeling in his chest when he saw you giggle from all the weed wasn't love. It was alcohol.

Being so sweet to you the entire time was just a casual whim. Not because he cared for you and wanted to see you smile or hear you laugh.

He didn't stay the night with you because he wanted to hold you in his arms just a little longer. He just didn't feel like driving back home.

He did not give a single shit about you. He was not falling in love with you.

You were just... convenient. Fun to fuck. There would never be anything more to it. Just sex. Nothing more.

And he would rather die than admit he was lying to himself.

Written by Nosferatu.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @thecuriouss @dio-niisio @thatoddboy @ouijaboardemo @emo-mess @igodownjustlikeholymary

#ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #ask #anon #ghost band x reader #ghost bc x reader #ghost x reader #father jim defroque #father jim defroque x reader #father defroque x reader #father defroque #father jim x reader #father jim

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ryuzatodraws-archive · 1 year

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Thank you @akonos for the prompt

Commish me

#ghost band #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #father jim defroque

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angellayercake · 1 year

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Also while I was away (on the other Tumblr I made half an hour after I realised I couldn't get in to this one) I have been writing father jim smut so look forward to that later 🙃