#confess your sins in the holy space between his thighs

[suchawrathfullamb]

#hannigram coded art #Hannibal worshipping Will's body as his one and only temple #Light up the candles and bow down to pray mister #repend his soul #confess your sins in the holy space between his thighs #anyway #mads mikkelsen #nbc hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal #murder husbands #hannibal lecter #hugh dancy

[getodrools]

okay we had priest nanami.. but what about priest higuruma? i feel like he fits it too 🤭🤭

໒꒰ྀི｡•̀ᴗ-꒱ྀི 🗞️ YUMM ! nonnieee my head is FULL and i might explode ! he definitely fits this role so well – his ominous aura just gives me the creeps ! ! alsooo, this is gonna be in the same universe with priest nanami — i couldn't help myself ! they'd work sooo well together D;

+ here is that priest nanami fic – that's about the same concept if you enjoyed this one ! <3

I 𝓲. I MDNI ୨୧ f! reader. church au. sacrilege. blasphemy. public sex/church sex (confessional box). religion talk. manipulation. cervix fucking (cause quite guys have big —-!). subtle (m) masturbation if you wink. dacryphilia. use of father. glory hole. oral sex (m). spit as lube. cum shot. | WC –> est 1.3k+

he knew what you did.

hiromi wasn't around as much. not from what you could see. you knew they both worked together, but never more…

he'd sulk with deep eyes, pupils wide and dilated behind hooded robes – his nose would peak out from the shaggy cloth like one with a medieval beak when he'd watch at the corner… unlike father nanami’s robes; heavenly and bright with hints of baby blue beneath, gold accents to hang, and the dusty blonde hair pulled it together too.

hiromi was the contrary.

he'd allow himself to be swallowed up by the dark corners in the church, and still. stiff with no movement, he'd watch. keep himself hidden almost as if he's locked in the confessional box with no say... hiromi was another priest, everyone knew of him, but ignored him – or acknowledge him as much as father nanami. nothing close to the praise he gets, even though everyone goes to him daily… you'd assume because he knew the darkest secrets your friends have, or all the lies they've told and they'd rather not speak upon it again, holding a slight worry towards a faded man that knows of every unknown.

people around town only heard him speak once or twice. they did all the talking, of course, he was one you could confess to. you never heard him speak. maybe a hum before but you couldn't even tell that was him either. he'd carry a small bible and a fist full of rosemaries.

they'd jingle when he sauntered.

“father, hiromi… i only come to you… because i have a confession…” that day was overwhelming.

it felt right – it felt amazing! you felt your whole body through and through, exploring it with the holy father of this church. you never felt closer to god, but it felt like the wrong way to take such a comfortable seat.

“y/n…” you had a voice he's heard echo down these halls and it was ringing. louder than the church bells itself, but his… it was dauntingly deep tearing. a deep rasp that made you flinch even with a thick wall between you both.

“i remember. once… three years ago you confessed to lying about the bible you stole.”

your bottom lip catches between clattering teeth. you still feel terrible to this day.

you never visited the conffensianl box often. the last time was intimidating, as if you knew you deserved that unnerving treatment for what you caused… even walking by it licked goosebumps up your spine, sometimes catching his eyes between the peeking wood; the whites of them becoming fuller as they'd follow every move…

“yes, you are right. but i was forgiven.” your thighs shift awkwardly.

“…”

silence and a small tap of the rosemaries moving was all you could hear. the heavy air pressuring at your lungs he created in such a small space was forcing words to spill out – easily, “i confess that i have sinned… and i repent from my… sexual sin, and i beg for your forgiveness.” you stumble quickly over that keyword.

god already knows of the details. so sparring yourself with a quick confession was your route.

“…”

“i want to obey your ways lord, and i want to honor you with my chaste… please..?”

your begging was cute.

“you've been fucked in the cunt before marriage. no man would want you now.” his vulgar spew made you gasp, eyes wide but heart sinking at the truth, “honor your words and show the lord you speak nothing but the truth.” hiromi’s voice dropped an octave rolling with a hard hiss as a small hole etching through panels filled with light that peers from father hiromi’s side.

you honored the sacred father through and through. the whole town knew too, the priests, of course, and sisters knowing your name so much you wanted to become one yourself… honoring the holy spirits angels in the church felt just as good and the priests only wanted your love for god no matter and always beside to direct you. you took nanami’s words once and he guided you, and another priest as close to him – you'd take that chance again to touch the clouds of heaven.

like it was destined.

like it was planned.

too stupid to notice anyway – and too trapped in this lope of always wanting to be forgiven…

. . .

the priest behind the wall dragged a middle knuckle up the slit of your pussy.

your eyes clench.

squeezing ever so tight, fine lines wrinkled into your features. it was cold as he slipped between the seeping pool of wet slick… your ass was pressed plush against the mahogany wood, nothing but fat folds pucker out the small hole as your hands held dear to the chair ahead, waiting.

he takes two digits and wrecked your sodden hole; spreading you wide with a quick scissoring – his middle finger dipping between with ease. with haste. no need to hear the small squeaks you babble out… the priest hooked in deep, cramming the hilt into you. hooking at your softest spots before popping his finger out; short-lived, a stringing trail of glistening still webbed between his digits.

he dammned, ‘flthy...’

the meat of his cock was freed sometime, or had it been jostled with earlier; edging to the wreck you cried out in, hearing your not-so-secrets spill out on the other side stiffen him up…

hiromi pressed the bulbous crown eagerly against your puffy folds. and with a sharp application of pressure, he squished the wetness of your chaste down; treating it to a haze of heat that left you gasping. your sodden silt wept in a vigorous stretch, full pentration and a wad of spit to your little hole made room for the invasive fill.

hiromi groaned at the tightness of your walls hugging him, and the warmth of your cunt sucking him in made the man instinctively hammer strong hips forward; deep, languid strokes left your cunt rippling and stretching – sensitive walls swelling in blossoming bruises, feeling hiromi barrel himself between the sweet heat of your legs in all focus to hurry and empty his balls…

your nothing but a church girl.

-- the church's girl.

your fingers uselessly clench down on whatever was in reach to fight off the awkward strain of hiromi ramming into your sopping depths. it was all over again, heavinly bliss jackharrming you out – just how father nanami stretched and fucked you over the stages pulpit, now bent in front of the hole in a confessional box with his holy brother…

all inches of tan, thick cockmeat stuffed you over the hilt. stiff pole pressing in deep until the leaking crown prodded at your cervix – your jaw tightening around prayers… webbing around his cockhead, he rammed himself into your perk cervix ‘till it hardened in bruises as your ass bounced against the wall and tight cunt fluttering full of cockmeat that stretched everything at once mercilessly.

hiromi‘s balls cradle up, tightening at your onslaught. the priest's cock throbbed, and burbled with cum.

“on your knees.”

it was quick, the empty gape clenched around nothing in need and you couldn't help but whine. twisting fast at his command – to fill another hole, your mouth instinctively aah’s in welcome.

wrapped in shadow only with arms delving out from the darkness gripped you close…

you never caught his face much when you visited, but you knew of the deep clover eyes above heavy bags and sunken skin were beneath his robes. but now you can only imagine how deep settled his features laid – possibly brows furrowed, his nose scrunching, eyes widening… but only his sacred dick flashed around your face…

he could see all of you and your pitiful shame. the small peaks he created over the years helped him watch your pretty eyes ogling upwards; and the carved wood you caught displayed mother mary herself.

nowhere's to blink.

you flinch.

at the time the embarrassment was immense, you could have hidden as a child may have – the vulnerability at mark to your naked frame crawled with a cold shiver; a rise of goosebumps layering cross naked flesh, face even running cold with sunken gape.

hiromi guided you – and your weeping mouth closer to the sleazy hole in his confession box. the small room with thin walls began to feel more squeezed in than usual – his towering body filling half the space on his side began to crowd yours… it was a nimble carved gap; only enough for a single pair of hands wrapped in the chains of roses with mary herself dangling off the side to crawl up your throat. father hiromi gave the supple skin a squeeze before tugging at your scalp.

your mouth panted out a wet ‘o’ in return.

“accept the lords offering.” the priest dipped his tip back into your mouth, “and the lord will forgive you.” old mahogany wood almost splinters at your forhead. the raw slip of his cock filled your throat and made you bubble with spit – words even foaming into webbed slick. it began to squelch when you tried to pray, speaking around a block full of dick meat was messy, and incoherent… but the soft hum vibrating around the thick of his bulbous cap was close enough. he could hear the rhythm of your prayers droning a longing chant and it was beautiful. the puffing of your cheeks before retching and spit stringing from tip to puffy lips was glorious...

you harmonize prayers around him – some syllables dropping or skipping words entirely, but no faster than the bubbling tears welting down your cheeks. your face was left ridden and stained, and the father was twitching as tears began mixing with sappy drool.

he could almost taste the shame thickening in the air.

hiromi was face fucking the truth out of you; the crown of his cock shoveling out spews of confessions each time his hips rocked out, only to crowd that small space again to the hilt… seeking and discovering secrets.

your eyes twitched and rolled back.

it didn't take much.

he kept himself in there for years.

the priest's thumb swipes at your tears, soothing at the burning skin but he wasn't here for empathy; this is a confession box, he curses and pinches at the taut flesh until you opened wider.

your tongue straddles his capped tip. tasting a tangy salt and fresh cum pooling at the soft ‘bowl’ you keep open for him. hiromi twitches and jerks the rest of himself out; a spunk of batter thickly ropes out onto your buds.

you look up, eyes watering with a banter – the carving of the holy figure looked back down at you...

<– BACK: PINNED ౨ৎ NEXT: MORE HIROMI –>

#🌐 𝐿𝒜𝒱𝐼𝐼 𝒲𝑅𝐼𝒯𝐸𝒮! #💌 ! #ᝰ hiromi higuruma! #hiromi smut #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #hiromi jjk #higuruma hiromi #hiromi x reader #tw sacrilege #tw blasphemy #tw public sex #tw religious themes #tw dacryphilia #higuruma smut

[americanwh0resstuff]

Snippet: God knows I tried

Snippet: been thinking about this for a while, heavily inspired by fleabag and priest by sierra Simone…

00?

Liz stood awkwardly in the entrance of the sanctuary, the smell of incense and communion wafers stagnant in the air, she wiped her eyes, her mind flashed back to earlier, the crock-pot luck, and that poor dog… the pain in joes voice, the look on everyone’s face…

It was now dark out, the small park had cleared, people were retiring for the night, leaving their dim porch lights on and drawing their curtains.

She didn’t know why, but she stopped at the church on her walk home. Her chest felt heavy, with sadness, with grief, and most of all with guilt.

Her heels clicked as she walked towards the confessional, not even sure if father Paul would be in there, maybe that would be better? What’s more holy than a confession between you and god? Maybe she’d finally feel that connection she’d so long pushed away.

When Liz entered she could see a small glint of candle light through the lattice, what could be a silhouette of a face, but could also be a trick of the light through her blurry eyes.

She sat, not wanting to kneel on the itchy carpeted bench, instead she looked at her feet, played with the hemline of her velvet dress, her Sunday best as her mom would say, pretty yet modest, long sleeved and buttoned up to her neck, yet pretty little cutouts along the thigh. She chuckled to herself, thinking about how proud her mother would be to see her in church.

It was silent in the booth, the only sound being Liz’s small breaths, her heartbeat in her ears until, “Father Paul?”

She heard him chuckle softly.

“Liz-“ He greeted her. “I’m sorry, usually confession should feel anonymous, I was just surprised by your voice… didn’t take you for the confessional type.”

She smiled softly, picking at her chipped nail polish.

“I’ll admit, it’s been a while…” She made the sign of the cross across her chest, taking her mother’s rosary in her hand.

"May God who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in His Mercy."

“Bless me father for I have sinned, it’s been… oh, I don’t know, years? Since my last confession.”

Her teeth worried her chapped lips, half expecting him to scold her for her disinterest in the church, but he didn’t.

“Go on…”

“Envy is a sin right? I know about Saul and David, the jealousy and selfishness, but… I guess I’ve only ever known envy.”

She took a breath.

“When I was a kid, all I wanted was to be normal, have a normal family, a pet dog, a mom who’d make me breakfast every day and a father who’d go to work in some fancy suit every day. I never had that. Then as a teenager, here on crocket island, I’d watch my friends have relationships and dates, and I didn’t… and now…”

Her confidence had been depleted, she was now rushing through her own mind, wondering what the hell was she doing?

“Now I want someone, and I know I can’t have them.”

Paul spoke up. “Is this person married? In a committed relationship?”

“I guess you could say that.”

She sighed, now bouncing her leg with nerves.

“He’s committed for sure, and passionate, professional, and maybe that’s what I like about him, everyone I’ve ever loved has left me, maybe if I find something that’s loyal, committed, the. maybe i can stop running. That’s what I do. I run.”

There was a long pause.

“Just because somebody is committed to something, that doesn’t mean there’s no space in their life for new opportunities, of course I don’t condone tearing relationships apart, but people can be committed to other things, work, routine-“ he stopped. “…religion. If that’s the case, then go for it, if it doesn’t go the way you want it to, find your inner peace, your closure, accept the things you cannot change.”

Liz looked down her feet, there were tears welling in her eyes, she tried to conceal it, but failed as a strained sob escaped her lips.

“I’m sorry, it’s just- I’m so tired.”

She’d always kept her emotions bottled up, never spoke to her parents or her friends about anything deeper than small gossip and crushes or what the passage of the day was, and it had depleted her, it had drained her energy for years, and now the flood gates had opened.

“I’ve always just watched life go by, waited on a fucking miracle to happen, told myself that my time would come, my time to love and be loved, to be proud of my life and who I am…” she could hear shifting through the booth, the muffled sound of fabric brushing against the wooden stools.

“Father?”

She stood up and leaned towards the other side of the confessional, trying to get a better view of father Paul’s place behind the wired window. He wasn’t there

She jumped slightly as the door opened behind her, turning around to see Paul towering over her.

“Forgive me father, for I am going to sin…”

His voice was barely above a whisper as he closed the door behind him, leaning down and taking Liz’s face in his hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks. He leaned in, and she closed the gap.

#midnight mass fanfiction #midnight mass #father paul x original female characters #father paul fanfiction #father paul #father john pruitt #father paul hill #monsignor john pruitt #monsignor pruitt

[221bshrlocked]

ii. Fixation

Stirring Sensations Masterlist

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5061

Warning: Smut. Penetrative sex. Incorrect use of a chain necklace. Dirty/Sweet talk. Kind of touch starved Pedro.

A/N: This is a few days late but only because my brother surprised us and flew out here so I do apologize. Also, this kind of got out of hand and it became a little more emotional than I originally intended. But I still think it’s kinky because you know, that chain. Enjoy my horny hivemind whores and please let me know how I’m doing in the comments. This is not beta’d.

The drive back to the hotel was quieter than you expected but you were glad it wasn’t awkward. Not to you at least. Pedro occasionally glanced at you, and your heart skipped a beat every time his dimples made an appearance. With every smile he flashed you, you felt yourself fall more and more in love with him. It was a feeling like no other, knowing that he not only wanted you but implied that he’s been reciprocating your feelings for a while now. You snapped out of your haze when you felt Pedro’s hand reach over and hold your own before slowing down at the stoplight.

“What’re you thinking of?” Pedro asked, tilting his head when you avoided his gaze and tried to hold back from smiling.

“Tell me,” he rubbed at your wrist and noticed the way you clenched your thighs when he continued to apply pressure on your pulse point.

“I- I don’t want to make you think that I...that this is- ugh god stop looking at me like that Pedro.” You rolled your eyes at him before turning to the window, hoping he didn’t pressure you any further. 

“How am I looking at you baby?” 

“Like- like you’re thinking of what I’m...what I’ve been, Christ this is harder than I thought.” You shook your head in annoyance, amazed at how oddly clueless Pedro was when he was normally so quick-witted.

You forced yourself to look at Pedro when he was silent for too long, gulping nervously when you saw the way his eyes twinkled when he held your gaze.

“Since when do you get this nervous with me bebé? It’s only me...nothing’s changed.” Pedro tightens his hold on your fingers right as he brings your wrist to his lips, softly kissing the palm of your hand and smiling when you tell him that his mustache tickles. 

He doesn’t push you further and you’re thankful that he gives you time to collect your thoughts because you’re not sure what was going to happen now that the two of you were aware of the other’s affections. You’re about to ask him if he’s sure he wants to be seen with you when he pulls up to the front of the hotel and walks out, giving the keys to the valet waiting for him just as he walks around and opens the door for you. You take his hand and follow behind him as he makes his way across the lobby, keeping your head down so you don't make him uncomfortable should anyone see you with him.

Pedro pushes the button to the elevator and looks at the decreasing numbers, trying his hardest to not look at you because he knows he wouldn’t be able to keep himself in check if he turned around and saw your shy demeanor reflecting in your eyes. 

He all but pushed you through the doors as soon as it arrived, clicking impatiently on the ‘close door’ button so no one else would join the two of you. You’re still avoiding his gaze and he’s hoping he isn’t forcing you into anything by bringing you to his hotel and not dropping you off at yours. He remains silent when the elevator opens at his floor, placing a hand on your lower back and leading you through the empty hallway until you reach his room. 

You’re not sure what happens when the door unlocks because Pedro is quiet one minute and the next thing you know, he’s pushing you into his room and slamming the door behind him before cornering you against the wall. You’re trying to ignore the way his scent completely envelops you and how intense his touches are becoming but whatever self-control you have left is flying out the window as soon as you open your eyes and watch his chest rise and fall beneath the chain necklace. 

Pedro clenches his jaw tightly, about to ask you whether you truly want this or not. But he loses all coherent thought as soon as he feels your lips close around his Adam’s apple. His knees buckle when you start sucking on the cartilage and he doesn’t bother to hold back anymore, twisting his arms around you until he’s holding you flush to his chest, almost as if he was afraid to let you go. 

“Oh fuck- fuck...please baby.” He’s moaning against you and he isn’t making any sense but you don’t really care, pulling away and kissing up to his jaw to sooth your love bites. He’s breathing heavily, unintentionally bucking his hips against your stomach and tightening his grip on your waist when you gasp at how hard he is. 

“Pedro I- I want you, need you to- oh god but-” You hesitate for a second, trying to not get distracted by the taste of him on your tongue. But he’s making it difficult and you groan in irritation before biting on his neck again.

“But what? I’ll give you anything cariño, whatever you want. Just tell me what- what you want. oh god baby I didn’t know that...you- you wanted me this much.” Pedro is visibly shaking with every little bite you leave on his skin and he barely manages to pull back so you would finally tell him what’s on your mind.

“Please come back,” you’re whimpering and begging him to lean closer to you but Pedro shakes his head, swallowing the thick lump in his throat before completely pushing off of you. 

“Y/N...are you sure you want this? Are you sure you- want me?” You could hear the doubt laced in his questions and you’re not sure why he is the one asking you that question when it should be you asking him if he wanted you.

“Pedro...I’ve wanted you for so long, but I- and you’re a...and I’m just me.” You’re hesitant in admitting to him what’s on your mind but Pedro somehow understands what you’re trying to say because he steps back into your personal space again and forces you to look at him before he whispers his deepest darkest secret to you.

“You’re all I think about hermosa. I- I can’t get you out of my mind. But I don’t want to force you to do anything. What I said back in the restaurant...about taking you home with me. We don’t- we don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I just needed you to be with me...without anyone, just the two of us. I could-” Pedro doesn’t get to finish his nervous rant because you’re pulling him back to you by his neck and smashing your lips with his in a heated kiss, and you swear your heart is close to jumping out of your chest when Pedro combs his hand through your hair and pulls on it so he could have better access to your skin. 

He wants nothing more than to leave a trail of kisses down your neck, perhaps even mark and bite and lick your chest but you’re pushing him away all of a sudden, and he has a few seconds to register the hazed look in your eyes before your hands are on his chest again. He looks down and raises his eyebrows in awe when he sees your fingers desperately dipping in between the buttons of his shirt to feel his skin. 

You continue to push him until the back of his knees hit the couch and he sits down, his knees wide apart and his chest violently heaving in anticipation of what’s to come. He looks up at you with lust-blown eyes and reaches for you as soon as you straddle his thighs. A part of you knows you should probably slow down and not jump right into this but one look at his messy hair and the glistening skin underneath the chain and that damn floral shirt, and you forget what it was you were trying to tell him a few minutes ago. Pedro isn’t sure what it is about the chain that has you all riled up but he doesn’t care because you’re finally in his arms and you’re willing and needy and he’s imagined this a million times before this moment but nothing compares to watching you deciding what part of him you wanted to worship first. 

“Hermosa, I-” Pedro shuts his eyes and leans back as soon as he feels your tongue licking the chain and the skin beneath the golden necklace. He’s not sure why it’s turning him on this much and he tries his hardest to focus on feeling your lips pleasuring him but then your nails are digging into his shoulders and marking him, and he unintentionally bucks his hips into you, eliciting a heavy moan from your chest that’s music to his ears.

“You- you feel so good...so good, better than I imagined, so much better than I dreamt. Please baby I, I wanna taste you. Touch you, kiss you...fucking shove my cock deep in this hot and needy cunt,” Pedro manages to slip his hand between the two of you and cups your crotch, rubbing the palm of his hand as hard as he could just to hear your sweet sounds ring into his ears again.

“You’re...you’re all I’ve ever wanted.” The simple confession shoots straight to his chest and your world is suddenly turned upside down as Pedro pushes you beneath him into the couch. He violently takes your lips against his own, twirling his tongue inside your mouth until he feels your hands pull on his hair. You’re not sure what makes your cunt throb more, how desperate he is to feel you come undone at his touch or how positively sinful his mustache feels rubbing and tickling your lips. You always assumed it would maybe get in the way or would feel weird if you ever tried to kiss him but it’s far from that and you can’t help but smile against him because holy god this is really happening. 

Pedro feels your cheeks widen and he pulls away to look at you, unable to hold back from mirroring your expression as his hand engulfs your throat. 

“What’re you smiling about?” He asks and you’re momentarily distracted by the random patterns his thumb is tracing on your neck. 

“Your mustache...it feels nice. I’ve thought about what it would feel like if I- if we ever...but it feels nice.” Pedro is amazed at how you’re somehow still shy with him when, not a minute ago, you were devouring the column of his throat. As much as he wants to tease you about it, he doesn’t, instead leaning down and kissing your jaw before he continues down your throat. You can’t help but giggle when he traces your skin with his mustache, but soon turns into a whine when he bites down on your clavicle. 

“Pedro...I- I want you...I need to feel you- touching me. Please, t-touch me.” 

“I am querida...I am touching you.” He knows what you mean but he swears he won’t go anywhere near where you want him until you specifically voice your needs. You feel his hands trail down your stomach and slowly pull at the edge of your shirt. It’s too much and not enough and you shut your eyes when he takes the shirt off and throws it behind him. 

“Bonita…” There’s something about the way he whispers his approval in Spanish to you that drives you up the wall and you open your eyes in time to see him crouching down and nosing at your stomach. It’s such an intimate moment and you swear he’s taking his time just to piss you off but then he’s resting his head in between your breasts and not moving a muscle.

“Pedro?” You don’t know what you’re trying to ask and Pedro pushes off a few seconds later, his eyes taking in how responsive your skin is to his touch before he’s looking at you again.

“I wanted to know if your heart is beating as fast as mine.” His dimples appear again when he sees the surprise etched on your face. And you are surprised because that would have sounded absolutely stupid if anyone else would have said it. But it’s not anyone else. It’s Pedro. And he’s telling you that he’s as nervous and desperate as you are.

“It always beats this fast when you’re around.” That’s not what you wanted to say in response to him but it’s what leaves your mouth and Pedro’s smile falters before he pulls away and kneels in between your thighs. You’re not sure if that was too much and you’re about to apologize for ruining the moment when you feel his hands unbutton your pants and pull on them. You try to help him undress but he slaps your hand away and glares at you as he continues to take your clothes off.

“Keep your hands to yourself hermosa.” He warns you as he throws your heels to the side before pulling off your pants completely and you pout at him because you want to touch him as well.

“But I-”

“I’m so fucking hard for you baby and if I feel those nails digging into my back again...fuck, I might just- mierda, please, just give me a few seconds to calm down.” You’re not sure what to say to him so you softly nod before clasping your hands together. Pedro is somehow not shying away from your gaze even though he just indirectly admitted that he might cum in his pants if you touch him again. 

You’re not sure how long you stay looking into each other’s eyes but you can’t take it anymore and you reach for him, twirling the chain around your fingers and softly pulling on it until you could feel his breath fanning over your lips. 

“Please,” you whisper against his cheeks and Pedro suddenly doesn’t care if he makes a fool out of himself because he nods and rests his forehead against yours as you begin to unbutton his shirt. He’s unintentionally bucking his hips against you and it occurs to you that the man has every right to exude big dick energy because he has a big dick. You can feel him shaking above you as you pull the shirt out of his pants and look at his bare chest. 

“Are you- is this okay?” You’re reluctant to take this further but Pedro takes your wrist and shoves the palm of your hand onto the tent forming on his pants. He’s breathing heavily and moaning against you when you cup him a little more forcefully.

“I need you. Now.” Pedro growls into the crook of your neck and he slips his arm behind your back to unclasp your bra just as you unzip his pants and pull them down his thighs. His boxer briefs leave nothing to the imagination and you’re about to get rid of them as well when you feel his mouth close around a nipple while he pinches and twists the other between his fingers. 

“Oh god Pedro...fuck oh f-fuck, your mouth is- ahh yes, so good. More, please I need you to- shit, oh shit just...I’m yours baby do what you want. Take whatever you want, I’m yours. Y-yours,” Pedro isn’t sure if you’re saying this in the heat of the moment or if this is actually what you’re feeling, and he wants to ask you but his mind finally catches up with what the two of you are doing and he suddenly pulls away again.

“Condom. Fuck, I- I don’t have a condom.” There’s a hint of anxiety in his voice and you’re shaking your head just as you pull the bra completely off. “Implant...I have- it’s okay. As long as you’re-”

“As clean as a whistle.” He cuts you off and it’s frantic movements and fumbling hands again, and before you know it, Pedro is shoving his boxer briefs far enough down his thighs and rubbing his cock against your damp panties. 

“Fuck, ah fuck- I could smell your cunt mi corazón...so hot and wet for me. Just want to sink into you...stay in this pussy forever.” You wrap one arm around his neck and pull him down to kiss him, distracting him long enough to slip the other hand in between your already sweaty bodies to grasp him. His arms give out and he almost falls on top of you but he manages to hold himself up as you suck on his tongue and squeeze the length of his cock. You could feel him pulsing against you and you cross your legs behind his back to bring him closer to you. You gasp into his lips when he pushes his cock against your panties. Not wanting to wait any longer, you push the pathetic article of clothing out of the way and lead him into your slit. 

Time stands still for a few moments and neither of you can breathe as he pushes his cock deep into your wet cunt. His mouth is hanging against yours and it’s suddenly too much because you’re breathing his air and he’s tasting your lips. It feels like you’ve finally come home when he bottoms out and Pedro has to focus really hard on not coming but it’s near impossible because you’re so warm and wet and your walls are squeezing the fuck out of him and he molds his lips with yours to distract the two of you. 

You swear you see stars when Pedro pushes on your thighs to make more room for himself just as he thrusts in again, and you realize that it’s only his eyes that are twinkling above you. It’s such a cliché but you really don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone as beautiful as this man, especially when he looks this focused and wrecked from only being inside you for less than a minute. 

“Mi corazón, mi cielo, mi alma, mi amor...eres perfecta.” He’s barely supporting his weight on his arms and you’re about to throw your head back to commit this to memory when you spot the chain around his neck swinging right above you. You don’t know what takes over you but you instantly push up and bite down on it before moving back down and forcing him to move with you. Pedro is pulled out of his haze when he feels your hands dig into the skin just below his neck and he follows your lead as you pull him closer to you right before your teeth dig into the chain and his chest.

“Fuck, fuck- come on baby take what you want. You’ve been eyeing me like a bitch in heat all fucking day long. Mark me querida...harder. Want you to mark me sweetheart...with your- your, goddamn...your teeth, your nails, your lips. Fuck, that’s it- such a good fucking girl for me. Taking my cock in this tight cunt like I own you. Like you belong to me. Shit...could feel you squeezing the fuck out of me- and...and those sounds. Those sweet, needy sounds drive me crazy ángel. Mierda, can you feel how hard I am for you hermosa?” He pronounces each word with a harsh thrust of his hips, his cock driving deeper into you and hitting that sweet spot inside of your pussy with impossible precision.

“P-Pedro I- oh oh I’m- cuh- uh,” you arch into him and pull on his hair as you feel a sting of pleasure shoot through your spine. One look at the chain swinging back and forth above you and you're coming around him, unable to form any coherent thought as he continues to rail inside you to prolong your orgasm. He’s hissing and growling and whispering all sorts of filthy words above you but you’re not really paying attention because he’s stretching you out around his cock so he could get deeper. He looks so desperate and you shake in his arms when he leans down and rests his head against your neck, his beard rubbing so sweetly on your sensitive skin and making you wish you could feel it elsewhere. 

Pedro slows down for a few moments to let you catch your breath but as soon as you open your eyes and bat those eyelashes for him, he’s shaking his head at you and laughing hoarsely when your hands move down his arms and rub at his soft muscles.

“You want more bebé? My needy girl’s gone cockdumb already? Already coming around me when I haven’t even touched you yet.” He pulls away and rolls his hips achingly slowly into you, chuckling when you try to move against him and find the grasp he has on your stomach preventing you from moving.  

“Please...please.” You can’t help but look at the golden necklace again because it’s sliding so easily around his sweaty skin and you still don’t know why you have this fixation with it but you just want to feel it everywhere. When you finally meet his eyes again, you find him smirking and raising a curious eyebrow at you.

Fuck, you’ve been caught again.

“My sweet, filthy girl...all you have to do is- fuck, is ask. I’ll give you anything, anything you want. As long as you let me keep fucking this tight, whore cunt. Yeah? You gonna tell me what you want baby? Don’t get shy...I know how much you like this.” Pedro fingers his chain quickly before he returns his attention onto you, this time with his lower lip between his teeth as he sweeps his eyes over your equally sweaty body. He takes one look at your perky nipples and he immediately leans down again, not bothering to be gentle as he bites down on your breast and swipes his tongue roughly against the pebble in his mouth. 

You push yourself into him and scream his name when you feel his thumb rubbing at your clit. 

“Pedro- p-pedro...I-”

“Fucking shit, the way you say my name hermosa. Makes me want to mark every inch of you, tell everyone you’re mine. All mine. Mine to please, mine fuck whenever I want...goddamn the things I want to do to you are sinful. Just want to keep you in my bed forever...so I could- take, ah shit how are you still so fucking tight around me? Mierda, your pussy is needy for me. Look down love, look how perfect your cunt is, swallowing my cock, taking me in deeper, making me sink into it. Could feel your heartbeat baby fuck.” It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you how much Pedro talks in bed and you swear his words could bring you to your knees if he wasn’t already fucking you so hard right now.

“Want you to- the chain...can you, can I- oh god,” you’re trying your hardest to tell him what you want but the feeling of his cock, of every ridge and every vein passing against your walls is making it difficult to speak, let alone think clearly. 

“What do you want with it? You want to wear it baby? Wear it as I mark this tight hole? Or do you want to bite down on it again? Hmm, you've no idea how pretty you look right now, all spread out and glistening for me. Fuck, it's so hot watching you come undone just from this damn thing. Tell me what you want with it? It's yours. I'm- I'm all yours. I'm all yours hermosa." He's repeating your own words back to you and you take a deep breath before you try to talk again.

"I want it in my mouth, d-don't know how...just want it in- fuck, please. Pedro, I need-" Pedro is already taking off the necklace and you open your mouth to beg him to continue fucking you when he instantly shoves two fingers along with the chain past your lips. You can taste his cologne and sweat and sigh when the tangy taste of the chain mixes on your tongue. 

"My god...you have gone cockdumb for me. Look at you, wanting your mouth to get fucked by my fingers and this chain…" You clench around him at his words and you feel his hold tighten around your waist, a part of you already looking forward to seeing his handprint on your skin in a few hours. Pedro’s jaw is tense and he resumes his rough pace when you start swirling your tongue around his fingers and the chain tied to his palm. 

“Mine, all mine. Never letting you go. Tell me mi alma...tell me you’re mine. Please, t-tell me.” He plants his foot better on the ground and looks down just as you start meeting his thrusts. 

“Yours, always been yours. Don’t want anyone else, just you. Only you, always you.” You’re trying to speak through his fingers and you’re positive it sounds like gibberish but he understands and shuts his eyes before throwing his head back and committing this moment to memory. 

“Pedro, cum for me. Wanna feel you fill me up, cum inside me. I- I want you to, please. Please baby I wanna feel your cum so deep inside me, wanna taste your cum mixed with mine. Oh fuck, oh god, I’m already so close P-Pedro...so close. So good, your cock is- fuck, so fucking hard and big...please. I- I…” Pedro removes his hand and meets your eyes, clenching his jaw tightly just as he looks down to where the two of you are joined. Before he could think about it, he slides his hand down to your clit and pushes his chain into the bundle of nerves before rubbing furiously. You cry out his name and sink your nails into his arms, already feeling your legs shake from the intense pleasure that’s already coursing through your veins.

Pedro watches your every expression and every twitch, biting his cheek just as he feels your pussy flutter around him. He looks down just in time to see you gush around him, the squelching sound of your juices flowing so easily on his cock triggering his own release. He growls and presses his fingers into your clit harshly, swearing into the damp air as you milk his cock dry and he paints your walls with long, hot strings of cum. He continues to push into you until you beg him to slow down from how oversensitive you are. 

He’s breathing heavily and swiping the sweat dripping down his forehead, watching in awe as you bring his hand to your mouth and lick his skin. He’s not sure why he finds it hot that you want to taste his skin and his sweat but he doesn’t care. 

You’re smiling up at him but immediately hiss when you feel him pull out of you and leave you empty. Before you can ask him if you should move this to the bedroom, Pedro is taking the chain and pushing it into your cunt to collect your combined juices. He’s not surprised when he sees your pussy clench around his fingers and the necklace and he’s unable to hold back from chuckling at how positively filthy you are. 

When he’s satisfied with how much he’s collected, he takes the chain in his hand and moves his other hand to your lips, forcing you to open your mouth right before he pushes the inanimate object on your tongue. Your eyes are widened in surprise for a split second before they relax and Pedro can feel himself twitching already when you hum around his fingers. He watches as you push his fingers farther into your mouth so you could lap everything up, and he smiles when you whine at him as soon as he takes it out.

Neither of you say anything as you continue to catch your breath and Pedro can’t hold back from sliding his hands across the expanse of your skin because he’s thought of this so many times and he wants to memorize every little dip of your stomach and your hips and your thighs. He finally meets your eyes again and his heart skips a beat when he finds you staring at him like he’s the only one in the world.

Pedro doesn’t look away as he takes the chain and haphazardly throws it around his neck again. It’s such a simple action but the fact that it has remnants of his sweat, and your saliva and your mixed cum makes it hard to ignore and you’re already pushing up on your elbows and kissing his pulse point. 

“You really like this huh?” He chuckles against you, leaning back into the couch and wrapping his arms so you could straddle him more comfortably. 

“God, you have no idea.” You whisper as you start kissing up his jaw and pay extra attention to the ridge of his nose. 

“Oh, I think I have an idea hermosa.” Pedro remarks and you clench your thighs together when you notice how hoarse his voice has become, only to push back when you feel his cock slowly hardening against your heated skin.

“Pedro,” you wrap your arms around his neck and hide in his neck, unsure of was going to happen now.

“Come here mi alma,” he manages to kick his pants and boxers away before he stands up and moves to the bedroom. You’re holding on him and sighing when you feel his hands cup your ass to hold you better against him.

As soon as he puts you on the bed, you’re pushing up and taking his lips into yours, swallowing his groans and hoping this all wasn’t some dream your cruel mind conjured up.

“I’m never letting you go bebé, you’re mine now.” It’s a simple and softly-spoken promise but it’s all you need to calm your racing heart. Pedro notices the shift in your touch and he smiles down at you as he resumes his place in between your thighs, looking into your eyes just as you return his expression and pull him into your arms. 

And to think this was all because of a chain...

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #d23 expo 2019 #chain #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #not beta'd

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ profane﹫jaehyun jung

profane - ashe vernon

pairing : jaehyun x reader (f)

genre : smut with little plot, fallen angel!jaehyun, best friends to lovers. 

warnings : actual filth, dry humping, passionate eating out, penetration (unprotected, be safe), body worship, slight begging and corruption, overstimulation, jaehyun’s wings are sensitive, creampie. 

word count : 3k exactly.

synopsis : fallen angel Jaehyun confesses to the one who saved him the night he fell from heaven five years ago, he shows you exactly how much he meant his words when he called you holy or : “ God, if you’re out there, if you’re listening, he fucks like a seraphim,”

“The first time he calls you holy, you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.”

Jaehyun never even tried to hide his awe for your beauty, since the day of his fall. From the night you found him in the middle of the street, right after a rainy summer day, he never did. You were in your last year of high school, a teenager finding a bloodied, half clothed man on the hard concrete. You thought you were hallucinating, victim of one big, elaborated prank. You remember observing him for minutes, until he turned his scared face towards the noise of your boots cracking a dead branch. Oh, his face. Even in pain, even crying from the damnation he just faced, he looked ethereal. Correction, he was ethereal. A fallen angel, lost in this cruel, cruel world. Bloodied wings, sculpted body draped with a white sheet, trembling chestnut eyes. Big, white wings wrapped around himself in an attempt to protect his remaining dignity. Your heart dropped when he planted his eyes in yours. Jaehyun wondered if you were an angel of death here to finish the job, he never knew they were this pretty. Jaehyun remembers asking himself if he felt right to another kind of heaven he didn’t know about when you walked carefully towards him, pale moonlight enlightening your worried features. The first human face he’d see and yet, he'd bet you were crafted in his late home.

“You’re divine.”, was the first thing the fallen angel had told you. Ah, how he managed to get you even more intrigued with three words. You recall him not backing away from you when you kneeled in front of the man, offering a hand. He looked the same age, a deer caught in the bright lights of a truck. You’d hate yourself for leaving him here.

The red tint on his soft feathers stay imprinted in your mind, even after five years.

You never thought you’d be one to take an angel under your wing. But here you were, helping the fallen learn about life on the blue planet, one he never thought he’d live on himself. After all, the brunette never even formed the idea before, being dropped out of heaven was never on option for God’s old favorite. Years, and Jaehyun never stopped being dazed by your features. You even wondered where he’d get his compliments, always sounding like an old poet gushing over his best muse. Lovely, charming, delightful, ravishing, gorgeous, heavenly, stunning, artistic, magnificent. The list goes on. You quickly wondered if he wasn’t going too far, if he wasn’t too attached after you saved him, mind twisted by an illusion he created for himself. He saw what you couldn’t see in you. Words you never heard any man call another woman before, they all have the same effect on you. The feeling of heat pooling to your cheeks gets too familiar when you’re with Jaehyun. It’s to a point where his name only manages to burn your skin. However, the day the now almost normal man calls you “holy”, you don’t know how to react. His head rests on your stomach, strong arms wrapped around your body. You remember how frail they looked the night you met him. No matter the time flying by, the people he met, the number throwing themselves at him, Jaehyun never stopped looking at you like you held stars in your irises. Puppy dog eyes for what you then think is just equal, a puppy love.   “You’re holy.”, he had breathed against your skin, a small smile blooming on his face at your reaction. The weight of his head on you makes it heard to laugh and hard to breath properly, your sides hurt as you giggle in an attempt to brush it off. Thankfully, Jaehyun’s used to your off reactions to his words. He might even like it a bit too much. Even, it takes years for you to understand that Jaehyun’s isn’t just victim of a dumb infatuation. He means every word he says, he knows more than anyone else the meaning behind them all. It’s quite ironic. You think Jaehyun’s the one who needs to open his eyes but, when you do, you understand something bigger. Jaehyun isn’t as innocent as you thought he was. The ability to hide his wings and your presence guiding him had him walking on his Earth like any other human being, slowly becoming like every other young man of his age.

“The second time, you moan gospel around his fingers between your teeth. He has always surprised you into surprising yourself.”

The second time he calls you “holy”, your reaction is much, much different from any other. The slight salty taste of his fingertips lingers on your tongue, pink muscle lazily lapping against his skin. The fallen angel has two digits resting there, thumb lovingly stroking the skin of your check. Coating them with saliva, the muscle drags between ever so slowly. Hungry eyes catch every one of your reactions, drinking in the smallest of sighs and broken bat of the eyelashes for memories to cherish. It seems every important turn in your relationship with the fallen angel happens in summer, he even told you about how it was his favorite out of the four seasons. An anniversary of your meeting with the brunette turns confession of shared feelings between an improvised meal. He grew. He grew so much all thanks to you and yet, there he is. Body towering over you, using his power against you, the dynamic shifted long ago. His hips fits perfectly between your thighs, the blue jeans he’s wearing aren’t doing anything to hide his hardening member, longing to be touched. You wonder where he learned all of this, when he learned all of this. His hips roll against your clothed core in the most heavily way, it’s slow and hard, intentions clear. “You’re holy, doll.”, Jaehyun breathes again, watching your cheek heat up, your eyes roll back. You never heard this voice before, it dips lower, stained by years of want. “Crafted by the highest.” You moan around his fingers, teeth grazing over the tender skin. Jaehyun was never afraid to push you out of your comfort zone, there he was doing it again. You never thought you’d let your beloved angel sin with your help.

“Because he’s an angel hiding his halo behind his back and nothing has ever felt so filthy as plucking the wings from his shoulders - undressing his softness one feather at a time.”

Oh, how well he hides his halo. There’s no light in his eyes, no light in his voice when he asks you to undress. You wonder if he still has some powers with how easily you bend to his order, underwear adoring your skin. His jeans follow close behind. He got bigger with years, stronger, confident. One thing he doesn’t get rid of, his wings. He could, he could hide them like he does every day now, but he know how much they affect you. You’ve told him many times, never ran more than a light and careful hands on the majestic wings. Pure, white feathers create the perfect cocoon between your tangled bodies like he wants you to himself and him only. You don’t think he ever lost one single feather, never losing their pristine with time.

His hips never stop rolling against yours, now fully hard cock rubbing against your damp underwear. His grey boxers aren’t doing anything to hide his member anymore, one that makes your mouth water, eyes blow in need. One hand travels from his arm to the soft feather of his wing, bold fingers softly gazing over the small spaces between his plumes.

The surprised moan that tumbles from his lips takes your breath away, such a simple gesture that makes him keen under your touch. “Fuck.”, how can a curse sound so pure ? His finger leave your mouth to grip the pillow right next to your head. “Do that again.”

“God, if you’re out there, if you’re listening, he fucks like a seraphim, and there’s no part of scripture that ever prepared you for his hands. Hand that map a communion in the cradle of your hips.”

“Shit, Jaehyun.” Nothing would have prepared you for the way his hips start moving to a faster pace. He has you moaning a bouquet of curses against his lips, hips bucking up against his. You know Jaehyun learns quickly, you see it when you tell him just how you like it and he obliges happily, hips rolling harder, and harder. The dark spot on his boxers’ a dead giveaway of your arousal building up, and up. His hands start wondering up your body, shamelessly sneaking under your bra. He maps your curves, learns by heart about the holy temple of your envelope. “Feels good ?” Another hand tightly grips your hip, fingers digging at your flesh, sure to leave small bruises there. He pushes your pelvis down against his mattress, until you aren’t able to create friction from your own. The fallen angel brings you to the border in minutes, he builds your orgasm up until you’re breathing against his bruised lips. He makes you jump with him and makes sure he has you all along, he holds you close when you ruin your underwear. Your orgasm blinds you for milliseconds, you probably moan too loudly for your neighbors but, right here and right now, it’s him. Jaehyun might come the very moment his name rolls out of your tongue, the prettiest prayer he ever had the chance to hear and, it was for him, him only.

“Hands that kiss hymns up your sides. He confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worship and, oh,”

“’ve been waiting for so long.”, the brunette confesses against the skin of your stomach. He places soft kisses there, like he wants you to see how much he worships your body. “Thought you’d never let me have a taste.”. There is the slightest bit of amusement in his voice when he kisses along the line of your ruined panties, a single digit teasingly running up and down your lips. He makes you shiver, sigh his name out and say his name in vain. You’d almost beg him to do it already, taste you already.

“Jaehyun, I-.”, you’d almost beg him, and oh.

Pink tongue boldly dips in your core, through the wet fabric. He hums at the slight taste of your arousal, like he cannot believe he’s finally there. His red lips form an -o where he knows your bud of never is, lightly sucking there. Where the fuck did he learn all of this. Oh, the sweet angel will be the death of you if you aren’t his.

“you put him on his knees. When he sinks to the floor and moans like he can’t help himself, you wonder if the other angels feel so sweet.”

Long gone are the years of blindness, years of pushing feelings away out of fear. A hand rests on his shoulder and you push him to his knees, he obliges easily under your touch. Knees to the floor, his knees hit the cold wood of his bedroom. Digits finally wrap around the fabric of your panties and finally. Finally, you reveal yourself to the fallen angel. Transparent fluid stick to your lips and the ruined piece of clothing, Jaehyun moans to himself like he’s been touched by grace.

Glittering eyes look up to you for reassurance and, when he has it, he doesn’t hesitate. Pushing your thighs apart, his eyes stay on your core like the finest of paintings, placing your legs on his strong shoulders. He waited and wanted too long to make the teasing last longer and, much like he did through the piece of fabric, his pink tongue drags up your slit. He collects every drop your give him in the dip of his muscle, he hums at the taste and goes for more. The tip digs between your lips and laps like he’s drinking the rarest of wines, like he’s drinking from the grail itself.

“Taste so fucking good.”, he hums to himself, lips shining with your own arousal. “Can’t get enough.”

You wonder if all angels are so good with their tongues, or maybe it’s the added effect Jaehyun has on you. He brings you to the clouds in what you feel like is seconds.

“He says his prayers between your thighs and you dig your heels into the base of his spine until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue. You will ruin him and he will thank you; he will say please.”

The words he mumbles against your core are foreign to you, your dazed, blurred mind doesn’t quite catch the meaning behind his sounds. However, his deep voice vibrates against your lips. It’s so much, too much. You’re almost too sensitive already from the first orgasm he got out of you. Your body reacts by itself when he lets his muscle explore between your lips a little more, a sigh tumbling from your lips. Your thighs close around his head until your heels dig between his wings, it makes the man moan and break away from your core. Your hand can only anchor itself between his brown locks, slightly tugging at his hair.

He’s breathless, a deep pink dust on his cheeks and chest alongside a thin sheet of sweat. Jaehyun looks so innocent and yet, so filthy, corrupted. When his lips methodically wraps around your button of nerves, you know you’re done for. “Jaehyun, Jae-. ‘m so close, gonna come.”, you warn, words turning incoherent at some point. Ah, Jaehyun loves the way your voice breaks for him, direct result of his actions. It fills his chest with pride and makes his wings bat the slightest bit around him.

“Please.”, he begs, and you have to look down at him to register the word. “Please Y/N, come on my tongue.”, he says again, fingers wrapping around your thighs. How can you say no to such plea ? Jaehyun might be the happiest fallen angel when he feels your thighs shaking around him, tightening around his head as you come for the second time that night. You might black out, the ringing in your ears doesn’t stop you from hearing the brunette’s greedy tongue lapping at your core, small kisses on your thighs. “Thank you.”

“No damnation ever looked as cozy as this, but you fit over his hips like they were made for you. You fit, you fit, you fit. On top of him, you are an ancient god that only he remembers and he offers up his skin. And you take it. Who knew sacrifice was so profane ?”

Fucked out, yet there’s no way you’re going to let Jaehyun like this. Your legs threaten to give out under your body when you sit on the fallen angel’s lap. Your abused core tightens around the head of his length, the slight pain of the stretch adds to the stained moan you let out against Jaehyun’s neck. He fits and he’s no one moaning about how you were made for him. Long gone are the pleas to make you come when he groans and growls about your tight cunt.

You take him, you take him entirely with a whine and fully sit on his thighs. You don’t think you ever felt so full in your entire life, you don’t think you ever felt this way before. His wings wrap around your bodies again, it seems like an old habit. He creates a world for you to rule in, he lets you take control and set the pace.

His moans are for your ears only when you finally start moving up, and down. Up, and down. Jaehyun’s arms wrap tightly around your waist, bringing your body impossibly close to his. His chest crashes against your own, lips bruising yours for the nth time that night. You fit, he won’t let you go. He fits, you grip around him. Jaehyun might just think you look like a goddess at this very moment, skin glowing under the light, wrapped around him, wrapped in him. He wonders if you aren’t just that, a goddess erased from the books, a goddess too powerful and threatening. Jaehyun might just think you’re Lilith. His head rolls back against the headboard of his bed, he unknowingly presents the skin of his pale neck and you take it. You take him, you mark him as yours. Red and purple petals bloom on his chest, marks he'd proudly parade.

“And once you’ve taught him how to hold your throat in one hand and your heart in the other, you will have forgotten every other word, except his name.”

The way his pupils grow wider the moment you bring his hand to your throat is almost comical. You teach him how to use his fingers and press on your neck, cut your breathing just the right way. Just enough to have you desperately clenching around his cock.

“I love you.”, you finally confess to him that night, words he thought he’d never hear at some point. There, the fallen angel has you in the palm of his hand, heartbeat pumping against his fingertips. There, Jaehyun gets his revenge on heaven. When he starts fucking up, sending your body crashing against his own, limp, he might fuck you even harder then. There, in the dead of the night, years after meeting him on the dot, his name is the only thing tumbling from his lips. Oh, what a pleasure to bring a goddess to this state, fucked out and babbling, shamelessly letting herself being used and filled. The fallen angel never thought he’d feed off someone’s tears but, when he hears you cry out for the third time that night, tear rolling down his neck, he comes.

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

#neowritingsnet #NCT-WRITERS #neovisioned #jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #yuta #jungwoo #sicheng #doyoung #taeyong #mark #taeil #haechan #johnny #smut #fallen angel!au

[getitinbusan]

Church

For all you dirty little sinners on this holy weekend...

A one night stand with the hottest guy in town becomes a religious experience. Pure SMUT!

You liked him, who in town didn’t? If legend was right, Jungkook's cock was as big as his ego and you wanted it.

Feeling drunk and brave you caught him alone. He was standing waiting for drinks at the bar and you suddenly felt thirsty.

Sliding up beside him you wasted no time. "Take me home."

He smiled and poked his tongue into his cheek. "Let’s go."

His hands were already under your skirt in the Uber, did he even know your name? Did either of you care?

The driver kept watch from the rear view, you may as well put on a good show. Pulling down your tank top, your breast popped out of the tight fabric.

"Fuck, you certainly aren't shy."

Jungkook whined greedily while nibbling and sucking at your nipple. His eager fingers easily found your wetness and dipped repeatedly inside you, the squelch making the drivers cock stiffer.

"I’ll shut the meter off if you make her cum in front of me."

"Keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the fucking wheel asshole."

Agrivated by the interuption he squeezed your tit while staring at the older man. "Drive faster, and if you interrupt us again I’ll tank your rating."

Pulling up to your place you broke away from his kiss to unlock the door.

"Wait is this a fucking church?" He laughed at the prospect.

Clutching his white T-shirt you pulled him inside. "It used to be, want to see my confessional?"

"I want to see everything," he growled

He moved to lift your top off but you stopped him. Pulling him by the belt loops you led him to the stark wooden confession closet.

"You weren’t kidding, shit���" he ran his hand down the robe that was hanging beside it and raised his eyebrows at the white collar.

You gave him a devilish grin, "So what? I like to roleplay."

You pushed him onto the hard bench, "If you sit here and tell me your sins I’ll get on my knees and do your penance."  

His jeans were tight around his thighs, his hard cock outlined by the taught denim. Fuck, he had to be 7 inches at the least.

Your knees hit the ground hard but the bruises would definitely be worth it.

Dragging your bottom lip through your teeth you looked up at him and smiled, "Do you want to fuck my face?"

He growled while unzipping himself. Pulling his cock out like a trophy he stroked it proudly in front of you.

Opening your mouth eagerly, he rubbed the tip across your wet outstretched tongue and smiled.

"Can you take it all or are we wasting my time?"

"Does it look like I brought you here to play?" You held him straight and stiff, taking in his full shaft till your nose was flush with his skin.

"Why’d you wait so long to introduce yourself?" he panted.

You let your lips gently slide back up the protruding veins.

"But I haven’t introduced myself at all, you have no idea who the fuck I am." You sucked one more time. "And doesn’t that make this feel even better Kookie?"

Baptizing his cock with your spit  you let your hand work his length as you sinfully stared up at him.

"Fuck that feels good."

You rubbed your hands in between his thighs, gripping gently on his testicles while sinking him into your throat again. Holding him there you moaned, goosebumps took over his skin and his head fell back.

"What do you like Jungkook, fast or slow?" you sucked.

"Fast"

"Shallow or deep?" you sucked again.

"Fuck…fucking deep."

"Hard or soft?" you swirled your tongue.

"Jesus Christ, your such a good little cock tease."

"You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain Jungkook, it’s a sin." You smiled scraping your teeth gently over his tip.

Leaning back against the wall you instructed him, "Stand up for me baby."

Pulling his pants off the rest of the way you guided his leg to rest bent, on the preacher’s seat.

Beckoning his hips closer you wrapped your mouth back around his throbbing dick. Grabbing his ass you pulled him deep into your throat, his eyes clamped tightly as he began thrusting on his own.

Faster, harder, deeper just how he liked it, streams of drool falling onto your shirt as he used your mouth to get himself off.

His testicles grew tight in your hand, he was almost there. Pressing the delicate area around his perineum he let out a guttural moan and promptly blew his load down your throat.

"I don’t know what the hell you just did but holy shit I liked it." He was out of breath already.

You stood up and undressed yourself, hungry for it to be your turn.

Wrapping his strong arms around you he picked you up. "Now where?"

His cock was already back from the dead, poking at your core teasing it with his every step.

"Over here." He set you on top the wooden table, "Fuck me Jungkook, I need you in me."

You pulled his hair as he drove his cock into your wetness. "Oh god yes, fuck me…hard...please."

Each thrust hit deep stretching you out. Your pussy lips hugging him tightly oozed your milky white excitement over his length. The man not only knew how to fuck, he knew how to please. Bending his knees and angeling upwards the head of his cock rubbed perfectly over your g spot.

"You’re so good at this, your reputation is well earned."

He smiled and rolled his hips into you slowly catching friction on your clit.

"Lay back."

He licked his fingers and rolled your nipples between them. "Are you going be a good little angel and cum for me? I want to taste how good I’ve made you feel."

He gave a few more rolls into you, his name echoing throughout the hallowed space as you cried it out while you came.  

While you lay there still reeling he dropped to his knees. His soft tongue moved over your swollen cunt taking long languid licks and gentle sucks. His mouth cleaned your mess like some devilish aftercare meant to entice you into more.

He gathered the last of your arousal on his tongue and french kissed it into your mouth like a whore's communion.

"You taste like temptation."

"So don't stop," you grabbed his hand and took the lead.

He followed closely walking up the three stairs behind you. "Of course your beds where the altar should be."

"The space is designed for religious experiences Jungkook. Why don't you show me what heaven feels like?"

He sat down on the edge of the bed pulling you to stand between his thighs.

"How do you know I'm not the devil?" He sucked your nipple reverently between his lips.

"Funny you think I'm not already destined for hell." You bit your lip and he sighed, both ready to stop the banter and get back to fucking.

Flipping you quickly he bent you over the bed and rammed himself into your hole. As his balls wildly slapped between your thighs, you knew his greed wouldn't be letting you get another finale without intervention.

Reaching for your small satin pillow you shoved it snugly under you. It was no stranger to your cunt, and with every thrust your clit humped it's way to orgasm against its silky fabric.

Sweat rolled down his arm as he pulled his creamy cock out and stroked himself to his own end. His ropes of sticky cum shot over your ass in warm splatters as you satisfied yourself, moaning into the mattress.

He flopped down on the bed beside you. "That was fucking amazing...."

His breathing was labored. "Listen, I’m not really the type of guy to stick around.."

You laughed, "Did I ask to meet your fucking parents?"

He rolled up onto his elbow and furrowed his brow trying to read your thoughts. "So this was really just sex?"

"No," you shook your head. "It was just REALLY GREAT sex."

Smiling yet confused he got up and began gathering his scattered clothes. Like he'd had a sudden ephinany he turned back around.

"If I stay can I put on the collar and robe?"

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook #bts #a present from the easter bunny #enjoy your dirty thoughts during mass #nochu #2021 upgrade

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Acts of Contrition

A/N: Heeeey, it’s been a while. Like...a long time while. Shaking the rust off, this is for @chiwhorei​ and their Heavenly Bodies collab (*see here*). No beta, we die like everyone else. Per the theme, and as a send off to my fellow fallen saint and recovering Catholic, it’s a kind of riff on a prayer? Not my best Shindou, but it’s Shindou all the same. Really need to revisit this guy. ANYWAYS--

TW: Sacrilegious themes, Oral (giving/receiving), Dacryphilia, Spit, Corruption, implied monster fucking (because why not?), mild exhibitionism, squirting, mild cockwarming ================================================

Your whole life, you always tried so hard to be everything your parish priest and father wanted you to be; pious, virtuous, radiant-- the epitome of the girl-next-door with a rosary tucked between your breasts and a prayer on your lips. It was your wholesome, squeaky-clean image that initially drew his attention and had you malingering on your knees with your mouth gaping and drooling into the carpet bristles of your parish confession booth.

"Got something to confess, sweetheart?" Shindou grinned in the darkness as you gazed up at him from your knees, nose pressed into the curling pubic hair tickling your mouth as he twitched down your throat. He held you there until your eyes began to roll back and tears threatened to break free from your waterline in trails of smudged ink down your flushing cheeks. You could taste his disappointment when they didn't fall, and he curled his thick fingers into your hair to rip you from his length. Incense and shame burned down your throat and into your lungs as you gasped for reprieve. His smirk was a gleaming scythe, all but signaling the beginning of your end.

"Please, more," you begged, scrambling to clutch his parted knees and nudge his cock closer to your waiting mouth. "More." His hum vibrated the dust lingering in the cramped space, as if he needed time to carefully consider what was originally his idea. "Shindou, yo--"

Gagged by his fingers, your tongue laved over his thick digits and your voice rose into unintelligible moaning. Your saliva ran down his wrist and your chin in thin rivers to the carpet digging into your knees. "Ah, ah. I asked for your confession, not for your begging. Perhaps I need to keep this pretty mouth busy while you take your penance." Eager to please, you nodded furiously into his hand, gagging and spluttering over his fingers as he twisted your body in half. The humble pleated skirt draped over your ass like a dainty envelope, the flash of white cotton panties plastered with slick against your pussy an invitation he couldn't deny-- he tore away the flimsy fabric with his teeth and whistled low at the silvery strings of slick still binding you to your underwear. You always forgot how strong Shindou was when he had a goal set before him.

"Mm, let's begin," he purred into your cunt, the sudden lash of his tongue against your neglected clit nearly tipping you into exaltation.

"H-hewl mwwwree fughlo gwssss," you babbled over his fingers as they dug almost painfully into your tongue. Cheek pressed hard into his knee, you heaved into his skin as your eyes rolled back into your skull with another skillful swipe of his tongue teasing your spasming whole. "Haaorrtsswiffee."

"C'mon, sweetness, you can do better than that. Really enunciate. It doesn't count if He can't understand you." Your toes curled in your knee socks as another wave of ecstacy washed over you with a flick of his sinner's tongue against your swelling clit. With a bend of his wrist, he tickled down your throat and dug his teeth into the swell of your ass when you gagged around them. "So tight. Do better. You know you want to. You asked for this, sweetheart." He retracted his fingers from your panting mouth, tracing the slick, bruised skin of your lips before he gave your hair a gentle pet.

"H-hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee…" you began again trembling over every word earning another vicious bite to your inner thigh. Shindou moaned into your scent tracing his tongue over the darkening bruise.

"Y'know, I'm feeling like a Hail Mary isn’t good enough. Let's try again," Shindou hoisted you into his lap, chest pressed firmly into your back as he lined the head of his cock, glistening with dewy precum, with the touch-starved maw of your cunt aching to stretch around him. Ever the tease, he tapped at your entrance, grinning at the sticky slapping of flesh on flesh as you squirmed to better accommodate him in the booth.

"Oh, my God!" You nearly screamed, sheathing him within you in one turbulent bounce. He barked out a laugh, dark eyes glittering in the shadows as he lifted your hips again with his teeth on your neck. "I-i-i'm heart-heartily so-sorry for haaah-ving offend..fuck, offended thee…" His pace was an idle one, but the vicious gnashing of his teeth burying into your neck made the aching around his cock pale in comparison. He needed you shamed, broken and sobbing out for release before he'd taste satisfaction.

"And I de-detest all my sins moh-ost s-sincerely because they d-disp-please thee." Pried open for him to abuse, Shindou let his hands wander beneath the carefully starched collared shirt and loosened tie to tease your pert, overly sensitive nipples through the fabric of your simple bra. He searched your face as he thrust up into you, knowing it wouldn't be long before those tears would begin to fall. "My God!" you gasped.

"Keep going," he groaned, tugging your blouse open and shoving your bra out of the way. He devoured the full-body shudder of your exposure, dragging his tongue up along your ear with a sigh. "You're so gorgeous when you break," he whispered, earning a hiccuping whine and the bubble of sobs he had waited so patiently for. Gyrating onto his cock, you couldn't stop the tears staining your cheeks with mascara as he rutted into you. Glancing down at where your bodies fused into one, you whimpered out the next verse as your cream dribbled down his balls.

"M-my God, who art so-oh deserving of all my love…"

"All your love, princess?"

"Ah-ah-ah!" He busied his free hand between your spread legs, rubbing tight circles on your clit. With a jump, you keened back into him and sobbed out wordlessly. Shindou ran his tongue to capture a stray tear from your hairline and moaned into the taste as he redoubled his efforts. "All my love f-for thy infinite good-fuck-goodness and--"

"And what? C'mon, finish like a good girl." Every thrust into your clenching heat had your body tensing like piano wire tuned by a master. His pulse vibrated through your core, loosening your tongue as he continued to tease and tug at your darkening nipples. “Most ah-amiable perfections…” He smirked into your hair, breath condensing on your neck like incense cloaking you in his scent. “I firmly pu-purpose by Thy Holy Grace never more--” Eyes rolling back, you stuttered and bucked fitfully back into the hardened planes of his lap. Your voice rose, cutting through the confessional booth and earning a satisfied grunt from the two-faced demon splaying your cunt wide for the congregation to observe if anyone dare open the door. “Never more,” you cried. Shindou paused, content to flex his length into your warmth while you sobbed out another broken, “Never more.” He dug his nails into your breasts, roughing your tender flesh to coax another wave of shuddering sobs and glistening tears from your weeping eyes. He sighed into your skin, dragging his lips along the moistened trails of shame and relief running down your jaw and cheek. “Please,” you whispered, rocking your hips fruitlessly to your own end. He hushed you as if silencing a toddler and stilled your hips with a single stroke. “Ah ah ah. Good girls finish their prayers.” With the head of his cock just kissing the gummy ring of your cervix, you grinded against him and cried out again, much to his annoyance. “Figures. Couldn’t be a good, pious little shit. Had to be a filthy, needy, broken little whore like the others.” “I’m broken. More, please give me more!” He scoffed at your pleading, content to have you writhe and wring yourself out on his heavy cock. Breasts bouncing and the unmistakable sounds of flesh penetrating flesh to defile that most sacred space, the sights and sounds of you coming undone for him proved all too tempting to ignore. He could taste it on you-- the rhythmic spasming of your cunt around his cock, the wobble in your legs, the uneven cadence of your breathing when he finally fucked back into your eager hole, all of it signaled your end. “Finish your prayers, sweetheart.” With two thrusts you let out a long, piercing moan, drawing the attention from those outside of the booth. Carelessly, you thrashed against him, milking his tumescence as if it would be enough to grant you divine forgiveness. “Finish like a good girl.” Shindou’s hand wandered between your trembling thighs as he rutted into you, his fingers dancing over your swollen clit despite your body bucking and fighting against him. The pressure in your belly was indescribable under his constant attention. “Finish for me.” Your body was his to play, to abuse to his delight. Shindou reveled in your shame as your squirt painted the door and carpet, shadows playing sinister tricks on your eyes as you searched the space for his face over your shoulder. “I firmly purpose by Thy Holy grace never more to offend Thee,” you whispered, coming down from your high with dripping thighs and shame staining your features. The door creaked open on its ancient hinges. Candles flickered in the chapel like whispering witnesses to a most capital crime. Tangled in the remnants of your uniform, your eyes glazed over and stared past the nuns exclaiming over your ruined state. You could feel his fingers ghosting over your exposed buds, taste his sweat and preek over your tongue. Your cunt throbbed around the memory of him, empty and hungry for his approval. His devil’s mark ached on your throat, a bruise you hazily hoped wouldn’t fade before his return. Captivated by the spectre of his presence, you melted into the tweed cushioned seat as far removed from the shouting and outrage of your audience as one could be. He’d be back for the rest of you and leave a more permanent mark. There were more pretty, pious words to pry past your lips, more tears to taste on your road to damnation, and he would be remiss  to miss out.

#heavenly bodies collab #bnha shindou x reader smut #shindou smut #yo shindou #bnha smut

[thatlongspringnight]

The Song of Solomon (Taehyung/Reader)

⏤ Pairing: Priest!Taehyung/Reader

⏤ Genre: smut, porn w/ plot, romance, forbidden love

⏤ Word Count: 2972

⏤ Warnings: Smut, sacrilege, cunnilingus, sex in a church, sex with a PRIEST, religion, Catholicism, tons of bible references, forbidden romance, oral, fingering, public nudity, sex in a public place 

__ Rating: 18+

Summary: Kim Taehyung left your town right after high school a boyish rake, and returned a pious man. Now you’re together, and the whispered words between you both are only heard by the silent, empty church. 

A very special thanks to Willow who edited this and helped make it beautiful <3 

Tagging: @wwilloww​ @hesperantha​ @jin-fizz​

You shouldn’t be here.  

Here, in the darkened church, the only lights are the flickering of half a dozen candles, here at the front, by the altar, by the crucifix and statues that have always stood here. Here where nothing has changed, since the beginning of time. You feel small, even in the bobbing lights you can see the stained glass, holy mother gazing down at you, clutching her son. Is she passing judgement? You aren’t sure, her expression is the same serenity as always. 

Although at this moment you are anything but serene. 

“I compare you, my love, to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots.” His smooth voice, so deep - too deep, like the Nile river itself. “Your cheeks are comely with ornaments, your neck with strings of jewels. We will make you ornaments of gold, studded with silver.” He’s standing in front of you, fingertips brushing your cheeks, gentle but firm as he cups your chin, gaze hot on your own. The verse speaks of love, and it's love in your heart. Forbidden and wildly untamed in your chest. 

No, you shouldn’t be here at all. You should be at home, kneeling at your bed and saying your prayers there. You shouldn’t have accepted his invitation to compline. You definitely shouldn’t have agreed so eagerly when he suggested you read from the Song of Solomon. 

You shouldn’t have. You try to convince yourself, like you aren’t kneeling before him, hands clasped, eyes gazing upward at the giant crucifix. Like you aren’t an active participant in whatever is to come. You try and focus. Eyes trailing up - up -

Up - to Taehyung’s face, the only passion play you could bare to watch. 

“W-While the king was on his couch, my nard gave forth its fragrance.” Your own voice stumbles, at first, tripped up by the echoing drum of your racing heart. “My beloved is to me a bag of myrrh that lies between my breasts - “ A catch of breath - it's yours, it's yours because of those hands, his - warm and rough - cupping your breasts as you read. He’s eye level now, and you swear there is nothing more beautiful than the feeling of his hands on you. Your beloved. Still, you forge forward through the verses. “My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of En-gedi.” 

“Ah, you are beautiful, my love;” He briefly strokes his thumb across your cheek, and the feeling makes you shiver. His eyes are dark in the candlelight, and molten as you meet their gaze. “Ah, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.” He recites the words, a poem he knows by heart, fingers trailing under your shirt. “Ah, you are beautiful, my beloved, truly lovely.” Taehyung is slow, nimble fingers taking his time with the buttons. He takes his time, as though he is cherishing the moment, like you are. A comfortable silence, until It's gone, fallen to the floor. Will you be bare here, too, then? A sinner bares their soul in confessional...and you would bare your body here, on the floor in this house of God.

“I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valley.” Your voice ceases to waver, strength hidden in your bones rising up. “As a lily among brambles, so is my love among maidens.” You sigh, and sigh again as his nose brushes your throat, as his hands trace your skin. 

It feels like he is worshipping you, that you are the sacred body here, the red candle flickering in the corner. “As an apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among young men. With great delight I sat in his shadow, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.”

“Taste me.” His words are sweet, poison laced sugar as fingertips press against your lips, part for him, Moses and the red sea, and you taste. Taste the salt of his skin and crave him, crave more. More of his gentle smile, eyes alight as he sees you. More of the firmness of his hands, often on your back as he guided you down the hallways of this ancient, holy place. More of his laugh, still boyish and beautiful after all this time. More of every single piece of him.

“He brought me to the banqueting house, and his intention toward me was love. Sustain me with raisins, refresh me with apples; for I am faint with love.” You...you feel faint before you even say the words. The longing, the love - it makes you tremble. How can you be absolved from this? Why don’t you want to? 

If this is sin - this beautiful, divine feeling - then what is the point of it all? He is David and you are a harp, ready to play his tune. “O that his left hand was under my head, and that his right hand embraced me!” Your voice echoes, his hand cupping your cheek, the other sliding down to wrap around your waist. 

He hasn’t even kissed you yet. This feeling is your own sin, eyes eager to devour the words on the page, to decipher his next move. Overcome, it’s lust licking the sweet tendrils of flame in your belly. Hellfire? 

“Your lips distill nectar, my bride; honey and milk are under your tongue.” He tilts your head back, mouth so utterly close to yours. But he doesn’t move any closer, even as you feel the warmth of his breath on your face, the press of his body against yours. 

Is he...is he toying with you? And yet, the thought doesn’t match the desperation of his gaze. The way his hands tremble when they touch you. “The scent of your garments is like the scent of Lebanon. A garden locked is my sister, my bride, a garden locked, a fountain sealed.” The words are choked and you understand. 

You are locked to him, forbidden, closed. If you want him...you must be the one to open the gate. He won’t go forward without it, without knowing that it isn’t just him that wants this - this beautiful, terrifying thing. You want it, want him, want every drop of his love that he’ll offer you. 

“A garden.” You break the silence, the holy book in your hands clattering to the ground. “Solomon built the temple. He was a priest and a king, a man. Like you.” The implication is clear. Solomon was no celibate. And this time it’s you, gripping his face: “this is not a sin to absolve me of father.” It’s your lips on his. Desperate and wanting, you kiss him like a woman starved, and you are starved...starved for him, this culmination of all of your wants, here in front of you. 

He could tread in your garden as he liked. So long as you could taste the nectar of his lips - You would find the milk and honey of his body. Forbidden fruit - let his juices soak you to your core. 

“Not a sin?” Taehyung’s voice, deep in your ear, hoarse. “Fucking a priest in your church isn’t a sin?” His voice is deep, and there is an edge there, a hoarseness that would match your own. He sounds so - so wanting, it almost shocks you. Like his lips, soft and warm against your neck, fingers buried in your hair, tugging at the strands. 

“Not one for the priest to absolve me of.” You reach up, grasping at his collar. “How can I be forgiven if I am not sorry?” What has come over you? The words are bold, foreign on your lips - but you mean them, pulling him back to kiss him again.

He’s so warm, and his grip only tightens at your words. You - you want to succumb to those desires, to the sin in your heart that was for him and him alone.

“Guilt. Shame.” The man muses. “Shame, our punishment for trusting the snake. And yet - Solomon called his lover a garden, beautiful….decadent. Perhaps the garden of eden was like his lover - “

“The garden hid the original sin.” Sin, his hands leaving yours to grasp at his belt - the snap of it in the empty air. Sin, him pulling you forward, onto your feet, bruising lips, bruising fingertips on your thighs, as he drug you forward, pressing you against the altar, the sacredest of spaces. “Forbidden knowledge, is - is knowing you forbidden?” He’s the one on the ground now, on his knees in front of you. “Is it - father?” 

“Taehyung.” He grabs at his clerical collar, the white tossed to the ground as he parts your legs. “I am touching you as a man, not as a priest.”

“Maybe you should touch me as a priest.” You can feel him tense. “Consecrate my body, drink of me until we are both holy.” 

“Sacrilege.” He speaks, pulling down your skirt. “And in the house of God no less.” 

“If you will fuck me on the altar, why shouldn’t you -“ 

“It’s the Song of Solomon.” He interrupts you, nimble fingers pulling at sheer fabric, the only barrier between you and him. “Or have you forgotten?” 

“You - you want to finish the recitation?” He nods, barely perceptible, the sound of his voice as he tugs your sheer underwear down your legs, slowly - so slowly, taking time like he had done with your shirt.

“Your channel is an orchard of pomegranates with all choicest fruits, henna with nard, nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon,” Your underwear hangs around tense ankles now, gaze trained on him. “with all trees of frankincense, myrrh and aloes, with all chief spices– a garden fountain, a well of living water, and flowing streams from Lebanon.” He sounds amused, even as he touches you, your sacred space. “A channel, a fountain, ripe fruit for the picking, d’you know of the love Solomon is speaking?”

“Carnal…” that answer was easy. “Desire - carnal love.” 

“More than that, he speaks of this.” A finger, swirling against you, sliding into that part of you you were told not to touch...not that you followed that rule. 

Perhaps that was a sin you could confess to. “Of this act, pleasuring you, and who am I not to follow the words of that famous king...and worship at your font - your well, your garden, till your juices drip down my chin like pomegranate juice.

“Let my beloved come to his garden, and eat its choicest fruits…” You speak, remembering the line even without the bible in your hands. “Please Taehyung…” Your hands grip the altar table, bunching the embroidered cloth under your grip. 

He’s worshipping you, you’re sure of it, with tongue and teeth. It's messy, and he’s not shy, those lips that could stir a congregation with their sweetness, his golden tongue - now they were on you, fingers still in you to the hilt. 

It is not quiet, either. Your gasps barely muffled, the wet, lurid sounds he was drawing from your body echoing in the room. 

How often had you sat in those pews in front of you, how often had you knelt, gazing up at this very altar, bated breath as the transfiguration took place, over and over. 

Now you are transfigured - you will never be the same after tonight, even if you want to be. But there can be no regrets as he murmurs your name against your thighs. As he makes you tremble and gasp, tensing under his touch, falling apart like the walls of Jericho, turning to dust in the wake of his fervent, ardent desire. 

“How graceful are your feet in sandals, O queenly maiden! Your rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of a master hand.” Slick fingers grip at your thighs, ruddied cheeks meeting your gaze as you pass your tongue over your lips. His mouth - it's wet, and that makes you blush...though you aren’t sure why at this point.

This is adultery, you muse, and of the worst kind. Taehyung is a priest, he’s married to the Church, and yet...and yet it's not communion wine smeared across his lips...no...he’s ripe for kissing with your essence glossed against his skin.

“Your navel is a rounded bowl that never lacks mixed wine. Your belly is a heap of wheat, encircled with lilies.” He’s mouthing across the skin of your stomach, up and up, till he’s standing again, hands at your breasts, gentle kisses more heated the closer he gets to your mouth.

“T-Taehyung.” Your soft murmur of his name breaks his recitations, but only for a moment, his gaze altogether too hungry to be kept occupied for long. “Please - “ Please what? Please what to this beautiful man, who has already given you so much. 

Please more - please don’t stop - please love me.  

 “Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle. Your neck is like an ivory tower.” Your neck falls victim to this trap all too easily, tilting to the side as his pretty lips press against it, as teeth mark your skin. It’s painful in a way that pleases you, your body still a shudder of pleasure and desire. “Your eyes are pools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-rabbim. Your nose is like a tower of Lebanon, overlooking Damascus….” Why is his gaze so sweet? The words barely process as his fingertips ghost over your face, as his lips brush your forehead. 

 “Your head crowns you like Carmel….How fair and pleasant you are, O loved one, delectable maiden, You are stately as a palm tree...and your kisses like the best wine that goes down smoothly, gliding over lips and teeth.” He’s skipping verses, you realize, and he’s asking you for something, something you give. Kisses, like wine, your mouth against his, soft and gentle, and then more. 

This time it is you, it is you touching him, hands unbuttoning his pants, ghosting over the heaviness there. 

“I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me…” You hear his half gasp as you cup him, and you wonder how long it's been since he’s touched a woman. Are you the first one since he left for seminary? Since he returned back to your little town, a man fully grown, to find that he wasn’t the only one who had changed. 

“I-It is.” The man’s words, they’re darling, even as he’s grasping your hands, pulling them away from him, from his cock - out and hard, beautiful too -  even as he’s letting you tangle your hands in his hair, biting at his lower lip. “It's for you.” There is no guile in his tone, nothing in his eyes but honest desire. “For you - I’ll break my vows, over and over.” 

“Come, my beloved…” Your words are choked with emotion, and then cut off completely, because it's him - hot, inside of you. You wonder if he’s surprised that you don’t come to him a fresh and blushing bride, a virgin. But you both have changed, you remind yourself. 

And those changes had brought you here.  

“I’ll be the one to say that.” He grips at your thighs, his strokes as sure and steady as him. Taehyung was the earth beneath your feet, and - and he was the wind in your hair, the air in your lungs, his touches now - heaven sent. 

You know it now: Taehyung is an angel in disguise. Perhaps he’d strike you down when it was all done, for your sins. And you’d gladly go, if it meant this was the last feeling you had, you could die in his arms and spend the rest of your days in hellfire, or in the cold quiet of purgatory - wandering as a wraith, if it meant that he would keep looking at you this way. 

“S-say what?” You stammer, pulling him closer, so close to you, barely caring that he was fully clothed, and you were stark and nude. It seems fitting. Of course you should bare yourself to your priest, haven’t you done it to him countless times before in the confessional booth? Baring your soul and sins out for him to see.

To forgive. 

Your thoughts are idle, and he is murmuring sweetness into your ear, golden tongue - the snake in the garden. No, Taehyung is no snake dripping poison on your tongue. Taehyung is just as much lost soul as you are. You feel so hot under his touch, sensitive, full - on the precipice of it all.

“Come, my beloved.” His voice is almost as amused as it is desperate. “Come…” And you were falling, falling against him, letting him hold you as you trembled. “Come and there I will give you my love.” Love, in spurts and a muffled moan, his body staggering against you, pressing you further into the altar table. 

“Love…” You murmur, breath returning to normal as he pulls away from you. “The love of God to man, or the love of Solomon to his queen?”

“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.” Taehyung answers, ever cryptic. His touch is still warm as he helps you put your clothes back on, touch slow, gentle as he re-buttons your shirt, as he uses your underwear to clean the drips of arousal from the floor. “We are called to love the church as God loves us. But i’m called to love you...like Solomon loved his woman.”  It’s a peck to your forehead, you watch him pocket the sheer material, and this is as much of a confession as you expect, surprised when he pulls you in for a gentle kiss, fingers entwining with your own.“Whatever it means, I won’t deny it, even in death, it will be your name on my lips.”

#ficswithluv #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #bts fic #kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung fic #fanfic #fic #bts fanfiction #fanfiction #bts scenario #bts #bts story #bts au #bts writing #taehyung ff #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #jeon jungkook

[impala-dreamer]

All Our Sins

SPN FanFic

~It has been a long time since your last confession, but you were pretty sure it wasn't supposed to go like this...~

Priest!Dean x Reader, Sam

1,700 Words

Warnings; NSFW. EXTREME BLASPHEMY. Priest!Kink. Dirty Talk. Spanking. Hardcore fuckin'. In a confessional booth.

A/N: For my darling @assbuttaf​, who asked for this like a year ago... Hope you all enjoy...

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The candlelight died away instantly as you closed the tiny door of the confessional booth. It had been years since you'd even stepped foot in a church, let alone attempted confession, but there you were, about to sink to your knees.

Afraid to look through the screen, you bowed your head and knelt down, ready to try this whole praying thing.

"In nomine Patris et Filii, Spiritus Sancti. Amen." The priest spoke slowly, his voice like caramel through the grate; deep and rich.

Your lip shook. "Bless me, Father for I have sinned."

"Go on…"

It was hard to speak; your voice shaking, chin steadied by clasped hands. "It's been...well, hell, I can't remember how long since I did this last.

"That's fine, my dear, go on. What do you need to confess?"

"I guess… a lot," you admitted with a sarcastic laugh. "I mean, I curse constantly. I've been in fights, I've killed. Not- humans, but…things."

The priest nodded, his crisp profile distorted by the mesh. "That's...not great."  A slick chuckle made your heart skip.

"I've saved people too, Father," you went on, explaining away the sin of murder. "Lots of people."

"I'm sure you have."

There was a pause, a long moment of silence inside the booth. You could hear his breathing, slow and steady; he was waiting for you to speak, to tell him everything. You lifted your eyes to the screen and caught a glimpse of tanned skin and plump, pink lips. Quickly, you dragged your eyes away. He was a priest, not something to be ogled.

“Is that all?” he asked, breaking the silence and halting the sinful throbbing betwixt your thighs.

Startled, you sucked in a short breath. “What?”

“Is that all you wish to confess?” He spoke slowly, deliberately drawing out each letter; the F pulling his bottom lip tight between his teeth. You couldn’t help but watch through the grate; tiny crosses giving you a stunted view of his tongue as it pressed against perfect teeth. “If we are to be forgiven, we must confess all of our sins…”

“N-no,” you stammered, feeling yourself weaken with each word he spoke. “There’s...more.”

“So… go on.”

You took a breath and closed your eyes, gathering the strength you needed to continue. “Well, Father, I...I’ve had impure thoughts.” The words were stuck on your tongue, your mouth drying as your pussy dripped, arousal taking over. “About my friend,” you went on. “My...partner- work, partner. My friend. He’s...so, so beautiful.” The padded bench beneath your knees was doing little to keep you up; the thought of him making your blood sing. “I’ve been very... lustful, Father.”

The priest sat forward, leaning closer to the screen. “How so?”

“I touch myself thinking about him. I can’t help it. I dream about his hands on me; about his big cock inside of me.” The confession sprang free and you went with it, telling your deepest secret to the shadow in the booth next to you. “I cum all the time thinking about sucking his cock; him fucking my face so hard that I can’t think straight. I- I need him.”  

“Is that so?” His voice was darker, his breath heavier. “Go on.”

“Sometimes during the day, I sneak away to go to the bathroom and fuck my slutty pussy while I think about him.” It was so easy now that the seal had been broken, and your lips refused to yield. “I stole his undershirt a while ago and I keep it under my pillow back home and stick my face in it while I ride my dildo, smelling him while I squirt all over the place. God, he’s so sexy, I need him so fucking bad. Need him to wreck my drippy cunt and fill me up. Need his cock so bad. So bad.”

He swallowed hard. “You have been sinful, girl.” His tone was rough, condemning. “I don’t know that this kind of behavior can be forgiven. Are you penitent?”

You could feel hot wet you were; the thin panties beneath your pencil shirt were soaked. “What?”

“Do you regret your actions?”

A smile pulled at your mouth. “No, Father. I do not.”

The priest sucked his teeth in disappointment. “You will be punished for this,” he said firmly.

Your heart was racing. “Yes, Father, I know.”

Without another word, he reached over and slammed the partition shut, blocking him from your view. The room grew dark and you held your breath, listening as he moved in the compartment next to you. His door opened and slammed shut.

You hissed as bright light flooded your sight and you squinted to see a tall, dark silhouette framed by holy light.

The priest stepped into your side of the booth and shut the door behind him.  

You turned, confused. “Father?”

The priest opened his belt in the dark. “It’s time for your penance, girl.”

A big hand reached out and took hold of your hair, pulling you roughly to your feet. You gasped and bit your tongue, trying not to scream in the House of the Lord. He lifted you up and pressed himself against you, pushing you back into the hard wooden wall. He dropped his lips towards yours but did not leave a kiss, forcing you to imagine what he would taste like, what his mouth would feel like. His lips hovered over your mouth and across your jaw, dropping down to linger by your ear, breathing you in.

“You’re just full of sin, aren’t you?” The hand in your hair tightened and he licked at your throat.

“Yes, Father,” you grit, riding another wave of arousal. It dripped from your cunt; your musk filling the small space.  

“We’ll have to fuck it out of you,” he whispered, rocking his hips against you.

“W-what?” Your heart stopped as he spun you around; the fingers in your hair falling to grab your upper arm and shove. You tipped over, hands catching on the seat at the back of the booth; wood slamming hard against your palms. “Fuck!”

Hot hands ripped your skirt up and tore your panties down, letting them fall, pointless around your calves. He slid a thick finger between your thighs, reaching down to feel your leaking pussy.

“All this...sin,” he growled, shoving his finger deep inside of you. “So shameful.”

“Shameful, yes,” you whimpered, rocking back onto his hand, trying to get him to move.

He pulled his hand away and you cried pathetically, arching your back to press your ass against him. You were stopped by his hand as it cracked against your plump cheek.

“Needy,” he condemned, slapping again. “Filthy…” Another slap, fingers splayed. “Lustful…”

Your body was throbbing, inside and out, from the deepest reaches to the surface of your skin. “Please.”

The final slap was delivered and you clenched your teeth as the hand moved away. You could hear the rustle of fabric as he dropped his pants, pulling the clerics away to deliver your true punishment.  

“Please, Father,” you begged, aching to be filled.

His hands returned, gripping your hips tightly as he pulled you back; the tip of his cock nudging against your heat.

“Please!”

“Slut.” He drove his cock hard into you, burning your flesh with his heat and the quick stretch of his hefty size.

“Fuck!”

His thrusts drove you wild, setting the pace for your heart as he tried to fuck the sin from your bones. You could barely stand, legs shaking as he slammed into you again and again. He was quiet, moaning through a clenched jaw as he worked; hands bruising your flesh, thighs leaving red marks where they struck your legs.

As his breathing quickened, his rhythm changed, picking up tempo as he neared the end. He reached forward with one hand and pressed his fingers to your clit, rubbing hard, forcing you to cum on his throbbing cock, helping him to let go. You milked him dry, cunt pulsing around him, and he stilled against your ass, breathing deeply, satisfied, tired.

He backed away and you could feel his cum drip from your pussy, leaking hot and steady down your inner thigh. He ripped at your panties, tearing the delicate sides apart, and wiped at your used cunt, cleaning up his mess. You turned then and sat, back aching, muscles quaking. He tossed the panties into your lap and laughed.

“Go forth, my child,” he said, voice dark and cracked, “and sin no more.”

He left you there in the dark, slamming the door closed behind him as he stepped out into the candlelight, black suit and shining shoes all you could see of him.

It took a moment for you to catch your breath, but when you did, you shoved the ruined panties into your purse and followed him, leaving the humid booth behind.

Dean was standing outside the door, frozen like a deer in headlights. You peeked around him to see Sam not far away, his face masked with annoyance and disbelief.

“Did you two actually just fuck in there?” he asked, flashlight beam hitting the confessional booth behind you.

Dean smirked and gave him a little shrug. “May-maybe?”

You slapped his arm. “Dude.”

Sam’s eyes rolled mightily. “For fuck’s sake, guys. We’re on a case. This place is haunted and you’re...you’re… what the hell are you even doing?”

Dean was at a loss, so you stepped in. “Role playing?” you offered, but it did little more than trigger Sam’s gag reflex.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Hey!” Dean snapped, wagging a finger at him. “Watch your mouth, son. We’re in God’s House. Show some respect.”

Sam gasped, offended. “Me? You just-”

“Eh!” Dean held up a hand, halting Sam’s argument. “We’re on a case, Sam. For fuck’s sake, let’s stop this fooling around and get to work.”

With a wink your way, Father Dean headed off into the sacristy, on the hunt for a murderous spirit’s tether.

“You two are going to hell,” Sam muttered as he sighed and moved to follow.

You smiled and watched Dean’s pretty ass as he disappeared into the next room. “Yeah,” you agreed. “But worth it.”

2020 Forever Tags:

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#spn fanfic #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #priest!dean #one shot

[1zashreena1]

No Shame

Pairing: M/F, nebulously OC/Priest!Diego Jimenez [Starz Power] AU IMAGINE

Rating: LITERAL FILTH

Warnings: Power imbalance, astronomical blasphemy, Diego's pornographic mouth, old timey woman related bullshit, set some time before 1900 in what will be present day Mexico

A/N:  I am an atheist so please keep that in mind as I unintentionally mangle Christianity in general and Catholicism in particular. This was prompted by an ask, you know who you are >.>.

Tag a friend! @girlpornparadise @nicke0115 @fleurfatale89 @mandoplease @heresathreebee @chensingmachinee​

Photo credit to @girlpornparadise​

I just woke up.

I have lost my last shred of sanity.

I must reevaluate all of my life choices.

I need guidance, discipline, a strong hand.

I am lost.

Perhaps mother was right. I will at least give her suggestion a chance. Father never forced us to obey her last wishes, but even if I never become a believer there must be some lesson I can learn from the experience. The only christian church in this new locale is catholic, that alone will be a new experience. I will walk there either early this morning or in the evening after the heat has dissipated. Mexico is a strange and wondrous place, but this heat is not conducive to proper corsets. Or really any underthings, for that matter.

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

The walk to the church is long. You go slowly in the evening heat, unwilling to become any more disgusting with perspiration than you already are. You had forgone petticoats, crinoline, or even bloomers, but found the bounce of your chest too much and so had opted for the cropped corset. You are beginning to understand the local women's choice of garments.

The church is stone, backed up to the cliffside, dark and cool on the inside. It is also echoingly empty. You wander about, touching pews, taking in murals, and dipping the tip of a finger into what you assume must be holy water. 

"Are you lost, little girl?"

With a small shriek, you whip around to locate the owner of that rasping voice. It is a priest, It is a damn shame, is what it is. He is tall, broad, strikingly broad, eyes and hair dark, and he has just enough of an accent that you know English is not his native tongue. You gawk at the nearly perfect features; a long, straight nose, high cheekbones, thick brows, a cutting jawline, and sinful lips.

"I- I am sorry. There was no one about so I was simply looking. I did not mean to intrude." You stutter out. It should be a crime of nature to take a man like that to the celibacy of the church.

"Of course you are not intruding. But, if I may, you do seem… lost. And alone." His words are solicitous but his eyes glitter in the low light. Absolutely massive hands emerge from the sleeves of the cassock and you have to remind yourself that it is rude to stare. He stalks over to you, there is no other word for such a predatory gait, and you stumble back a step. He is not as tall as his hulking presence seemed, but he still towers over your frame.

"I am. Lost, that is. I did come here alone, but I live with my father. We only recently moved here." Why are you telling him so much? Is it the collar? Or his hungry expression? 

No one has ever looked at you thus, as though you were some delicacy to be savored. It confuses you greatly and you feel quite flustered. It evokes feelings that were stirred the few times you snuck out at night, slinking through the streets of Philadelphia to peer into a foreign world of nightlife and debauchery. You had seen the opium dens, the women walking the streets, people enjoying themselves and each other in ways you so desperately wanted for yourself. Mother always did curse me as a hedonist. 

"Would you like to confess? Have you been sinful?" He holds out one wide hand in gesture to the confessional.

"Oh, I am quite certain that would not help." You laugh bitterly. "I am not Catholic, in fact, I am not even a Christian. I imagine I must be brimming to overflow with your 'sins'." The sarcasm of your tone is unmistakable. 

He looks you up and down leisurely, you feel very hot very suddenly. "Perhaps not yet." You blink, but he continues, "Come. Sit with me and tell me why you are here then, little girl." Sitting in a pew, he motions to the small gap between himself and the arm. It does not seem like nearly enough space for your wide hips. That large hand pats his own leg gently and you find yourself stepping forward as though hypnotized. 

You were right, it is not enough space, you are practically in his lap. He is hot and solid against you, his body has no give and you can't help but compare it to the only other time you felt anything remotely so hard. The wedding night had not been nearly so attractive. Your chest is heaving above the corset as you fail to subdue yourself.

A long arm rests along the back of the pew, you can feel solid muscle under your shoulders. Unsure of what to do with your hands, you fold them in your lap but this only results in a more spectacular display of cleavage. You steel yourself and turn to look at him…

The priest is staring at your breasts. 

I thought they could not… am I wrong?

His eyes snap up to your own and you feel faint. They are the deepest, darkest brown you have ever seen. He is stunning and you are enthralled.

"I have never been to a church service, my father despises the institution, but my mother passed away a few years back, and one of her last wishes was for me to explore the church." You confess in a rush only to wince at the choice of wording. Your eyes drop to his chest with your mortification, it is not a wise decision on your part.

The sheer breadth of him is boggling. You can see muscle flexing under the black garment and all you can think about is how it must feel. Your palms itch to touch and you fidget minutely until something makes contact with your skin. Glancing down, you see that he has deposited his rosary in your shaking hands. Slowly, but not hesitantly, he closes your fingers around the smooth wood by engulfing both of your smaller hands in one of his larger extremities. 

His skin is like fire and you feel the same crackling energy that fills the air prior to a strike of lightning. Trapped by his presence, you gulp.

"Tell me." He breathes into your hair, "You know nothing of the faith? None of the rituals or traditions? No rules or obligations? Do you even know to which sins you might confess?" It seems that it should be saddening to him, but his purring tone is almost gleeful.

"C-correct. I do not." You stutter. Your eyes remain focused on his single hand overlapping both of yours in your lap. He is so close to your center that it makes you ache. Are there levels of sin? Am I committing a more serious offense right now? A higher sin, if you will? Perhaps you really are hysterical. 

"Oh, little girl, what I could teach you of sin would certainly fill you to overflowing."

You shudder violently and break out into goosebumps. The feel of your hardened nipples trapped inside the corset is maddening. Your former husband had never incited such a severe reaction, then again, he did not look like this man. 

"Married!" You blurt out in a panic. He freezes but does not back away. "Was. I was married. He, he returned me to my parents when I failed to produce an heir. Like a faulty broodmare. Is, is that a sin?" The babbling string of bitter words reveals far more fear and humiliation than you had planned. "It was an annulment. He was Protestant. I was deemed frigid." 

You gawk in shock as that gargantuan hand lifts to trace a single finger along the neckline of the corset peeking out of your blouse. Your pebbled nipples are visible through both soft layers of fabric and he brushes over them fleetingly. Your entire body jerks and you gasp. 

"To be barren is not a sin, however the Church does not recognize an annulment after the marriage has been consummated. In the view of Catholicism you are still married. Have you known any other men than your husband? Biblically, of course." He rumbles into your ear as his hand flattens over your collarbone. The span of it encompasses you from shoulder to shoulder. You feel dwarfed and vaguely threatened. 

"No… But I have wanted. To, to know. Another." Your breathing fails as the hand slides down your front to press your own fists into your crotch firmly.

"Now that is a sin. You are lustful, are you not?" His hopeful tone rips a whine from you. You somewhat enjoyed relations with your husband, it was vaguely pleasant sometimes despite your general overall distaste for the man, but this feels much more similar to when you touch yourself.

"I," you squirm, consumed with a heretofore unknown feeling of guilt, but he presses down harder on your lap and your legs spasm as they try to spread of their own volition. 

"Go on," He orders quietly. "Your lust led you astray, did it not?" The arm around your shoulders has constricted, his other hand snakes inward to stroke over your throat and it's hammering pulse point. You whimper as your belly liquefies and you want … something.

"I, I t-touched." Oh, this is beyond mortifying. Women are not supposed to want, much less touch, and certainly not enjoy as you have. You know what is respectfully acceptable in polite society and you know that the things you have done to yourself fall very neatly and precisely outside of those parameters. 

"You touched another man?" You shake your head tightly. 

"You touched a woman?" Again, a negative response, and again, a strangely gleeful question.

"You touched yourself." He purrs triumphantly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. The feel of his beard lowers your inhibitions. You had always wondered how a beard would feel on your chin, your neck, between your thighs…

"I cannot judge the severity of the infraction without witnessing the full extent of your wrongdoing." What does that mean? "You must show me, little girl." 

Your jaw drops and you turn to him in shock. He is so close that your noses touch and all you can think about are his lips framed so perfectly in that closely cropped graying beard. The hand on your neck creeps downward to flatten your left breast.

"Like this?" He questions softly, brown eyes blazing. Despite his best attempt, he cannot completely engulf your breast in his hand. Rather, he squeezes gently and massages. You are struck speechless, the touches are instigating a new and terrifying response lower in your body. Your breasts have been handled before, but you have never felt anything like this. 

"Not, um, not especially. I do not, I did not--" you choke off as he locates your nipple and pinches softly. Your hips buck of their own will and deep inside you can feel tension winding tighter. This has never happened before and you aren't entirely sure that you like it. "I never really touched, there. It, it's l-lower." You did not mean to say that.

He releases your hands only to slip between them and your body. Belatedly, you remember that you wore nothing under your skirt. You try to squeeze your legs together, it does not stop his progression. 

"Tell me to stop. Tell me you do not want to do this, and I will add lying to your list of transgressions." His voice is dark, dangerous. You relax into his hold and his fingers press the fabric deep between your thighs. The wetness soaks through, you have never been in such a state. "It seems that in spite of your reluctance, you are quite ready to show me."

"Here?!?" You yelp. The cry echoes along the high ceilings and he chuckles at your outrage. 

"Perhaps you would prefer the confessional?" He grins at you with a dazzling array of teeth. It is more threat than anything else.

"I thought, ohh, I thought priests could not. Not. You know." Flapping your hand about seems to convey your message sufficiently. 

"My vows are no concern of yours, little girl." He growls into your ear and you squeak helplessly under the assault.

You push to your feet with a hand on his thigh, but it gives you pause. He is solid under your touch, nothing but the bulk of muscle. What does a priest do to attain this level of, of, well, muscle? You glance down and your legs wobble. His interest is prominent. You have never seen anything that large.

"Do not worry about that. Show me how you worry about yourself. It is your soul at risk here, after all."  He ushers you to the little booth with his looming presence and a large hand on your lower back. You suppose he must either know what to do about himself or you are wrong about all that the priestly vows entail. How would I know?

The confessional is just big enough to fit you both. You spin around only to find yourself face to chest with him. He smells purely and indefinably male. Your hands come up to steady yourself on his chest and you give in to the temptation to feel. His rippling muscles make your legs give out and you collapse gracelessly onto the bench.

He kneels to the floor in one fluid motion. Those very large hands gather up your skirt but he catches your eye.

"Now you will show me how bad you have been and I will mete out your punishment."

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

Am I truly going to debase myself in this manner? With a priest? In a confessional? I am very certain that this is not what Mother meant. You always were too contrary.

Your hands shake as you reach out to slap the skirt down tight to your knees. 

"Wait!" You plead urgently. No man has ever made you pant like this. His huge hands grip your knees through the skirt, he looks up to drown you in those bottomless eyes. "I… how do I, what should I call you? I do not even know your name."

"My name is Diego, but priests are referred to as 'Father', little girl." He smiles widely, it transforms his face into something softer, younger and freer. He does not ask for your name and you do not offer it.

"Now," he murmurs, "Show me how you sin."

A full body shudder shakes your form and you take a deep breath. Your hands release the skirt and you close your eyes in embarrassment. Painfully slowly, he rucks the skirt up to your lap, dragging his hot hands up your thighs as he progresses. 

"My, my. You are very bad, are you not? Nothing under your skirt?" He tsks, but his voice is warm with pleasure. His hot breath washes over your center obscenely, "And so very pretty."

Slapping a hand over your mouth does not muffle your whimper. He keeps one hand on your skirt, but reaches up to wrap the other around your forearm. Pulling your hand to yourself, he stares at you meaningfully. 

With great trepidation, you bring your fingers to your pulsing point of pleasure. The priest moans quietly, his dark eyes fixed on your most forbidden place. You jolt with the initial contact, then press down firmly. It feels just as good as always, but the addition of a ravenous man watching makes you clench tight far sooner than normal.

"Does it feel good?" He rasps quietly. You nod deliriously. 

"Do you enjoy being observed?" His lips curl up at the corners with deviousness.

"I- apparently? Never. I have never, ohh." Your voice is unrecognizable. 

"Your husband never looked upon you thus?" He arches a brow. You shake your head in horror. 

"N-no! He never touched or, or, oh, put his mouth on me." Your admission is a fearful whisper. "I had heard talk, filthy gossip, of men doing such things but..." You trail off with wide eyes as he licks those sinful lips very deliberately. 

"Yes, terrible rumors. That would be rather shameful." Those long fingers creep ever higher and your eyes must be ridiculously large. The pressure in your belly is crushing, you can feel everything tightening by the moment. 

"But." You gulp. His eyes gleam with anticipation. "I have. Thought. About it. Being touched so… pervertedly. Is, is that a sin?" Your breathy voice is tremulous with wary hope.

"No, little girl." The dark rumble so close to your most private parts vibrates decadently, the sensation is so strong that your eyes roll back momentarily. "No worse than the sins you are already committing."

"Oh. W-well, in that case, perhaps I should have asked for it specifically." You tease. The look in his eyes is not teasing. You lick your lips and nearly beg, "Will you t-touch me? Please, Father."

His pupils grow wide as you look on in wonder. His hands spasm, his expression crumples as if in pain, and he groans lowly, "I will touch you, bonita. I will touch you until you are sorry for your sins and beg me to stop."

Shaking like a leaf, you hold your breath in anticipation as his hands climb ever higher until they hover above your folds. "Please." You breathe.

One finger strokes along the edge of your lower lips, gliding in more wetness than you knew you could produce. It dips between to part you open, a sob escapes your gritted teeth, then he touches your entrance gently. You watch, bespelled, as he tests for give. I want it, you realize. Then, he finds the correct angle, and sinks the entirety of his long digit inside you.

"Ohhhh!" You wail as your body collapses in on itself, ecstatic paroxysms shaking you apart in waves. Your fingers press down harshly to draw it out.

"Yes, little girl. Let me see. Very good." He coos quietly. Your mind stalls in confusion, but then he moves. 

"Oh, oh, what. I do not understand. Please, I. I. What. What are you doing?" You whisper brokenly. 

"In order to fully understand the sin, you must fully explore it. Do you want me to teach you?" The question is dripping with wickedness. His expression is frightful, covetous and foreboding.

You nod, then shake your head as the finger retreats, only to nod again as two fingers return.

"It has been some time, has it not? Since a man filled you?" Your discomfiture grows, but it feels too good to stop him. 

"Y-yes. He was, your fingers are the s-same size." The confession is wrung out of you. Your mind flashes back to the sight of his bulging interest and you cannot help but wonder just how big he is. 

"That would explain why you are so tight. Do not fret, I can offer you a solution to that as well." Teeth gleam in the low light and you shiver. He shuffles closer on his knees and your brow furrows in concern. He smiles warmly, "Go on, continue."

"I do not. Know. Are there other, more things?" You feel foolish, but he clearly knows more than you do about this. 

"So much more, little girl. Does a sinful little creature such as yourself like this? Are you enjoying the fingers of a holy man in your most filthy of places?" Said fingers brush deep, he touches places that have never been reached before. His wide shoulders keep your legs spread far to give him room. 

"Y-yes? I think? It. It feels, strange. I feel full, but yet I want more. I--" you choke as he thrusts his fingers into you, pulls out, and then sinks deep again. Oh. Ohhhh. This feels better than anything you have experienced yet and tears roll down your cheeks. You beg shamelessly, "Please, oh please. Do not. Do not stop."

The deep bark of laughter is humiliating but it feels too wonderful for you to care. You are tightening again, bearing down around him steadily. He commands you confidently, "Again, little girl. Show me again."

Your inner muscles flutter wildly and then compress decisively. It is different than your self-induced sensations, but just as good. Your head falls back against the wall as your hips roll offensively. You are making noises that sound demonic in their own right, high pitched screeches and sobbing wails.

"You are a quick study. Have a third." Diego growls and you feel stronger pressure as he pushes three fingers into you. It stretches you uncomfortably for a moment and your hands fly down to his wrist.

"Wait." You gasp and squirm. He adjusts his hand to a new angle and the pain subsides to only aching fullness. "What. What are you doing?"

Your jaw hangs open limply as you watch him leaning ever closer to your privates. You remember your own admission clearly He never touched me or put his mouth on me.

The priest continues downward until you can only see the top of his head, covered in thick, lustrous hair. His breath ghosts over the little ball of nerves before you feel something completely foreign. Hot, soft, wet pressure where your fingers had been earlier. His tongue. You realize with a shock. He is licking me!

The first pass is too new, the second is long and slow so you have time to process this terrifyingly delicious sensation. Your back bows, your head cracks backwards against the wall, and you scream. You want more, you want to run, you sink down onto him and jerk away spastically. He is relentless, you are not entirely sure what he is doing besides using his tongue on you, and you do not possess the mental wherewithal to find out. Your hands flit about violently until one lands in his hair.

He groans against the center of your pleasure.

You shriek and hang on tightly as your body seizes up with another climax. Your vision wobbles and you gasp for air. 

As things come back into focus he stands over you, untying the sash to part his robes. Your eyes immediately drop to the bulge of his manhood being freed by hands slick with your juices. You recoil in fear at the sight.

He is positively massive. Longer than you thought possible but even thicker around. His own hand barely circles the girth. The tip is dripping steadily and you can smell the sharp tang of his desire.

He reaches forward in a flash of movement and yanks open your blouse and corset deftly. Your chest bounces free and you shrink into the wall at your back 

"Now," he eyes you intently, "You are prepared to receive your punishment."

"Will you hurt me?" Your tiny voice gives him pause as he registers your fear. His eyes soften and he reaches out to brush your wild hair back gently. He cups your jaw and leans close to your trembling body.

"What is a punishment that does not hurt just a little?"

Before you can answer his lips are on your own. He fits his mouth to yours, the beard burns wonderfully, and when you gasp he slips his tongue inside to attack your own. He takes and takes, leaving no inch untouched, just as you assume he will do below. His broad body arches over you and he steps between your legs. One hand cups a breast and he uses it to pin your shoulders, the other drops lower to position his length at your entrance. You shake violently, the memory of your wedding night clouds you with apprehension.

The pressure is immense, you sob into his mouth as he pushes into you. It pinches sharply at first when the head breaches, but then eases and the majority of him sinks deeply into you. He pulls back from your mouth to look at your tear stained face. 

"Breathe. Relax. You can take this, can you not? You are a good little girl, yes?" The soft rumble brings you back to the present. You are stretched to the limit, but he is not hurting you. Diego stays still long enough for you to soften around him, your tense muscles ease and you understand that it feels good. Very, very, very good. "There. How perfectly you take this. You were made for this, to writhe on my cock. So sinfully tight."

You open your eyes to find him huddled close, both big hands petting over your hair, down your cheeks to cup your breasts. His face is tense, he is holding himself back for you to adjust. It is more thoughtful than your previous proceedings. You reach up to touch his beard in wonder, it is wet with your arousal. Hands wandering, you stroke down his torso until reaching where you are joined together. He hisses above you as you feel the base of him, still unable to fit all of it inside you. Hands climbing, you slide up under his shirt to encounter a wall of muscle under soft skin. The feel of him makes you whine with want.

"Oh, you are indeed ready to atone." He sighs happily. Leaning down, he buries his face in your bosom and you jump with the textures of smooth skin, soft hair, and ticklingly abrasive beard. Wet heat envelopes a nipple and your chin crashes into your collarbone as you try to see what he is doing. He laves your nipple with the flat of his tongue, long and decadent passes that have you gasping and quivering. 

"A loving doe, a graceful deer—

 may her breasts satisfy you always,

 may you ever be intoxicated with her love."

He murmurs what you assume must be a proverb directly into your chest as he uses you wickedly.

Your hands settle on his broad shoulders, he is warm and solid all around you, you are soft and pliant beneath him. Narrow hips hitch and you cry out at the aborted thrust. He is so deep inside you that he must be able to touch your heart. Your heat clenches around his length and you both moan.

But then, Oh good lord, he moves. The long drag of his retreat pulls unknown sensitivity from you and the newfound discovery spills from your lips.

"Oh. Ohhhhh. This is. This is what. I, I never knew-" You babble mindlessly until he snaps back into you. Here you shriek. Words fail you entirely as he takes you more thoroughly and enthusiastically than you have ever been had before.

"Yes, little girl. Take the punishment you deserve, that you require. Take it all." He growls harshly, his hips smack your buttocks and the sound of it is obscenely blasphemous in this building. Your fingers dig into him as the tension builds. You are familiar with this, it feels much the same as it does when you bring yourself to fits, but it continues to mount. Previous experiences had ended at this point so you assumed achieving the same outcome was simply not possible by this method of stimulation. It feels like you might be wrong.

"I can tell that this pleases you. Wicked little thing, greedy on my cock. You want more, yes?" His dark words should make you feel shame, but he sounds inordinately pleased with your proclivities. He bites your neck and you bawl as your body contracts on him blissfully. His elated groan sears you with pride, "Yessss, good girl."

He rips himself away, drawing a soft protest from you at the loss of his body. His eyes are wild, chest heaving as he announces, "Now you may repent, little girl. On your knees."

You thrill at his command. This you have seen just once in your naughty wanderings, a woman on her knees and a man using her mouth as he would her nethers. 

You drop to the floor, hands landing on his bare thighs, and gawk at his impressive manhood on full display. He is perfectly formed, long and curved just slightly at the end, thicker around than you could have ever imagined. His cock, you rather enjoy the illicit word, shines with your wetness. 

"Open wide and do not bite. You would not want to err further than you already have, yes?" He instructs softly, but his hand on your head is like steel as he urges you forward. You nod nervously and lick your lips, then glance up at him.

His eyes are black, huge and starving, his mouth hangs open as he breathes harshly, and he actually whines at the sight of your tongue. A curl of power glows inside you. Leaning forward, you touch the leaking tip in a fleeting kiss while watching him closely. His expression melts in agony, "Yesss, take it. Ohh, perfect little girl."

The praise emboldens you enough to open wide and lick him as he did you. It is wet, salty and slipperier than his tongue, firm and hot. You taste again and his shaking hands pull you forward. Your jaw relaxes instinctively and he bumps the back of your throat. You cough, but his ragged moan is too sumptuous, you need more. Keeping him held firmly, you press your tongue to the underside to trap him against the roof of your mouth. With chagrin, you feel yourself drooling, but when you go to slurp it back into your mouth it creates suction around his length. He howls above you.

"Ahhh, yes. Yesyesyes. Sí, perfecto. Taste me. Take my cock deep." You pull again and both of his massive hands squeeze your shoulders tightly. What if it is like the other actions? The thrusting? You bob your head experimentally, taking ever more of his length with each round. 

"Yes, yes, little girl. That is it. Take. T-take a deep breath!" His instructions are simple enough but you do not understand why until his hands pull your nose deep into the thick thatch of hair at his base. Heat pours into your throat and you understand rather well exceedingly quickly. There is nowhere for his release to go but down, you swallow frantically to avoid choking. It is not enough, the salty liquid cascades down your chin as he pulls back and you struggle to breathe. He collapses back to the door of the confessional, panting harshly.

You cough for a minute, clearing your throat. Your knees ache, the aftertaste is strong, but the absolutely devout way he peers down at you would be worth every sin.

"Am I forgiven, Father?" You murmur demurely.

He hauls you to your feet so quickly that it makes your head spin. His lips are on yours, his tongue delving deep inside as he licks the taste of himself from you. Breaking the kiss, he sets you back on your feet and tweaks your nipples one last time.

"Go home. Go home and get on your knees and remember what you have done, little girl." With that, he opens the door of the confessional and dumps you out into the church proper. The large space is blessedly empty. You relace your corset hurriedly and dart for the door. Stepping outside into the humid night, you turn around for one last look. He is standing there, just outside the booth, clothing mostly righted, staring after you with voracious eyes. As the door closes he dares to wink with no shame.

‐----------------

You run home in the dark, terrified to be caught in your stained skirt and ripped blouse. The winding road that climbs the cliffside to your casita is traversed before you know it and you hesitate outside your own door. The small lamp of the sitting area is visible in the open window, your father is still awake. Creeping in, you hug the edge of the hall and dive into the kitchen. 

"Ah, you're back! How was the church, honey?" Your father calls. 

"Oh. Stuffy. Pretentious. The usual." You holler casually, already mounting the stairs to the loft where you sleep.

"Well, your mother would be happy you tried. Good night!" He responds with amusement. 

"Yes, of course. Good night." Your response is vague and distracted as you round the corner at the top of the stairs and close the door. Finally alone, you collapse to your knees on your pallet and laughingly cry yourself to sleep.

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

When you wake the next morning it is already light out. You can hear the crashing waves far below your open window and you sit up slowly. Your languorous stretch is cut short by the ache between your legs. My jaw hurts, too.

Voices outside catch your attention. Slinking to the window, you peer over the sill to receive a surprise. Your father is standing outside under a palm tree speaking to another man. You would know those broad shoulders anywhere.

The priest! Your panic is drowned by confusion, He is wearing regular attire, no cassock. Why is he here? Why is he dressed so? What is he saying to your father? You are rooted to the spot as he mounts his horse, a very fine horse, you note, and then glances up. He spots you failing to hide and has the absolute gall to wink before riding away. No shame.

Tearing down the stairs, you meet your father in the kitchen. Barking cheerfully, you greet him with a chirpy, “Good morning!”

"Good morning, honey. You did not tell me that you met the Don of this town at the church last night. He has been overseeing the repairs to the roof. It seems he donated all the supplies and materials. I have heard the locals say that he expects hard work but is fair." Your father is preoccupied with the process of making coffee, luckily, so he does not see your gawping expression. 

"He, he is what?" You ask. What happened last night?

"The Don. He said the new priest should arrive sometime next week. But, there is more." You sink into a chair, hands shaking. Your father continues obliviously, "He invited us to dinner at his hacienda tonight. Apparently, you made quite an impression." 

Hands land heavily on your shoulders as your father stands behind you. "I am sorry, honey. I had to disclose your past. He seemed undeterred, Don Diego said you seemed a bit of a, a, handful, but he likes that. Maybe this is your second chance. I worry what will happen to you after I've gone. An unmarried woman alone in this world is often preyed upon."

He has no idea how correct he is. The absolute nerve, how dare he, this is despicable, the, the, cad!

Your father leans down to kiss your head, "He asked my permission to court you. I told him he needed to ask you. I will not decide your life for you. Follow your heart this time, honey."

You liked it. You liked him. You want him again. You will wear the scantiest dress you own to dinner. Repay him in kind with damning torture. 

"Oh yes, I remember the exact wording he used to describe you: a hellcat." Your father chuckles fondly.

No shame.

#damnit diego #ok but this time its literal #starz power diego jimenez #maurice compte #zash writes #literally filth #why is this happening to me #fandom hell

[noodlecupcakeswritings]

A Test of Faith - Chapter 4 (A Priest AU) Kylo RenxOC)

Father Ren has been tasked with looking after the new arrival Sister Cora. Is it lust in the air or a test from God?

Look, this fic is pure fucking depraved priest kink porn. There is no plot. Just porn. I have no excuse. And sorry for starting yet another fic when I already have ongoing ones…but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Thanks to @ohiobluetip​ for inspiring this one, she’s a babe and you should check out her work.

Please leave comments, kudos and reblogs if you like it. Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist.

Warnings: NSFW, DUB CON/NON CON, Forced blowjobs, Oral sex, Confessional sex, Face fucking, Crying, Dirty talk, Sinning, comparison of cum to the holy sacrament...

Chapter 4

Cora Ardmore

The sun was high and there was a comforting cool breeze as The Bishop and I walked through the abbeys gardens. Whilst Snoke was old, he still insisted on going for a daily walk with some company. I was happy to aid him and take it slow for him. It offered me a chance to speak with him privately, to tell him about Father Ren. Snoke had the power to cast him out of the church if he wished. Hopefully, he would believe me. We stopped under the shade of the apple tree’s, Snoke seemed a little out of breath. “I apologize for not catching up with you sooner Sister, I hope you have settled in here well,” Snoke spoke. “It's quite alright your excellency. This is already starting to feel like home.”

“Good, Im glad to hear it. And did Father Ren offer you much help and guidance upon your arrival?” I knew I should tell him; it was practically on the tip of my tongue when we were interrupted by none other than Ren himself. He kneeled before Snoke and kissed his ring out of respect before rising again. “Father we were just talking about you,” Snoke smiled. I avoided Ren’s gaze, looking anywhere but at him. Guilt ate away at me. I’d had my chance to say something and now it was gone. But I would get another chance tonight in the confessional with Father Hux. And there would be no way Ren could interrupt a confessional.

“Good afternoon, Sister,” Ren greeted me, smiling softly. I returned the pleasantry's only to avoid questioning from Snoke. It burned to be in Ren’s presence, reminded me of my sin, how weak I had been. Yet the more I thought about what we had done…how good his fingers had felt inside of me…heat spread across my cheeks and between my legs. So caught up in my thoughts, I didn't realize that Snoke and Ren were looking at me as if they’d just asked me a question. “Sister?” Snoke asked. I needed to make up an excuse and fast; I needed to remove myself from this situation quickly. “Sorry, your excellency. I’m not feeling well. Perhaps it's the heat. Please excuse me,” I muttered.

“Of course, Sister. Father Ren will accompany me from here. Rest,” Snoke replied. I kneeled to kiss his ring, feeling Ren’s gaze on me the entire time. I could only imagine the sinful thoughts running through his head. Getting to my feet, I hurried off to my quarters, closing the door behind me and leaning against it for a few moments. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths, trying to think of anything but Ren's fingers. Like a woman possessed, I squeezed my breasts through my habit, gasping at the sensation. Ren’s hands were so big, he’d cover them easily. No, I would not be tempted. I forced my hands back down to my sides, my gaze falling to the cross on my wall. God would be ashamed of me for succumbing to these sinful desires. I just had to last till tonight where I would confess my sins and Ren’s.

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

Night had fallen, and the abbey was silent and still. The candles flickered, casting shadows across the pews. I closed the door of the confessional behind me and waited. Father Hux should be next door, ready to release me from the burden of my sins. There was only silence. Perhaps he was running a little late. The door in front of me burst open and there blocking any chance of escape was Father Ren. I was a rabbit trapped in a fox's lair. Rising from my seat, I had to think quickly. I could either try to force my way out or I could scream. But Ren would overpower me easily. I opened my mouth to scream, but Ren was quicker. He forced himself on me, covering my mouth with his hand. My eyes filled with tears as he closed the door behind him, trapping me in here with him.

“If I take my hand away, will you scream?” He asked, his tone hushed. I shook my head, accepting my fate. His body pressed up against mine, sandwiching me between him and the wall. Having him this close again was dizzying. Cautiously Ren takes his hand away only to replace it with his lips, kissing me hard and possessive, like he wants to claim me. Finally he pulls away, allowing me to breathe. Cupping my cheek, he wipes away my tears with his thumb. “W-where's Father Hux?” I asked. “I convinced him I would take over his duties for tonight. He doesn’t get to have you all to himself, not when you're mine.” He thought Hux, and I were together? No, he thought, we would have done something. Ren was so blinded by his lust for me he didn't want me near another man.

“Father…there's nothing between Father Hux and I,” I stated. “Because you're mine.” His hands moved up to my shoulders and pushed me down on to the wooden bench. Ren towered over me, looking over me as if he were deciding what to do next. Unbuttoning his cassock at his waist, he reached inside and pulled out his large, fully hard cock. I averted my gaze to the floor, refusing to look at it. In the tight confines of the confessional it was closer than I would have liked. Father Ren grabbed a handful of my veil and hair, forcing me to look at it. With his free hand, he traced my lips with the head of his cock. “Prove it. Prove your mine,” he demanded.

Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks. What choice did I have? Opening my mouth, he forced me down onto his cock. Ren shuddered at the feeling of my warm wet mouth around his cock. Tightening his grip on my habit, he pushed me further down, making me choke and gag around the head of his cock as it hit my throat. He groaned at the feeling, holding me there for a few moments before finally pulling me off and allowing me to breathe. “Such a beautiful mouth Sister, God clearly intended for it be used like this,” Ren spoke, his voice lower and breathier. I wanted to shake my head at him, but before I had the chance, he pushed his cock back into my mouth. I whimpered, the sound muffled. Ren gently rocked his hips against my face, fucking my mouth.

“Perhaps I have found heaven in your mouth, Sister, or maybe I’ll find it between your legs.” He grunted. Another heat had settled between my legs. I was sickened by how my body was reacting to him using me. Ren’s thrusts became harder, now fucking my throat. The sound of me gagging was so obscene and far too loud. If someone walked past, they would surely hear it. Ren didn't seem to have the same fear as me, moaning and cursing with every movement of his hips. His hips suddenly stilled, and he gasped as a warm salty liquid coated my tongue. Pulling his cock from my mouth, he gripped my jaw, making me look up at him. “Swallow my cum, Sister, swallow it like you would the holy sacrament,” Ren ordered with a smirk. Swallowing the substance caused my body to shudder. The taste was not pleasant. “Show me it's all gone,” He directed.

I opened my mouth for him once more, for him to inspect. Satisfied that I’d swallowed his sin he released his grip on my jaw. Ren tucked himself away before getting on his knees before me. “Does it ache again, Sister? Between your legs?” He asked. “N-no, Father.” I lied. I knew I should have put up more of a fight, but instead I remained still. Ren lifted my skirt and pushed my legs open. He pressed his nose to my clothed heat, inhaling my scent. Ren hummed hungrily as if it were something good cooking in the kitchens. The ache was turning into a throb, desperate for his touch. He pulled my panties off, inspecting them with a soft smirk. “Your wet, Sister. You can pretend you didn’t want to suck my cock all you want but heres all the evidence I need that you liked it.”

Ren pulled me forward more before diving between my legs. His tongue ran up from my hole to my clit, moaning at my taste. I too moaned at the feeling of his tongue. “I knew you’d taste good. As sweet as honey,” He mused. “Please Father. M-more, please.” I pleaded. The ache was too much to bear anymore; I needed him regardless of right and wrong. Ren smiled before lapping at my juices once more. His tongue circled my clit, forcing a loud moan from me. I covered my mouth with my hand, afraid of being caught whilst my other hand fisted his hair, pressing him closer. I felt him smirk against me, groaning at my taste. The sounds he made were loud, hungry and desperate. “Father…oh…Father we could be caught,” I warned, my voice shaky.

I didn't want him to stop, but I also didn't want to be caught. Sound carried easily in this confined space. Ren slipped two fingers into me, making me forget about my anxieties. Yes, this is what I needed. If he was worried about being caught he didn't show it, forcing louder moans from me as he curled his fingers. My thighs were shaking, my stomach muscles getting tighter as that feeling built again. “Please, Father,” I begged again. Ren continued, not showing any signs of slowing. A few more flicks of his tongue across my clit and I was cumming apart at the seams for him. Every single one of my nerve endings were singing with pleasure as he worked me through my orgasm. I gasped and whined his name, my hips bucking for more.

Ren cleaned me up with his tongue before sucking his fingers clean once more with a satisfied groan. His lips were shiny with spit and my juices. He put my skirt back into place and pulled me to my feet. “I have found heaven between your legs, Sister,” he concluded. He kissed me, making me taste myself on his tongue. One of his arms locked around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “I want more. I want all of you. Please, Sister, let me have you,” Ren implored. “Not tonight, Father. We’ve already risked so much in here. Please let me go.” I hoped I didn't sound as afraid as I felt. I needed him to release me. My strength had failed me once more, and I wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

For a moment I thought he wouldn't let me go, but his grip on me loosened gradually. Relief filled me, and he allowed me to leave the confessional first. I didn't run until I knew I would be out of sight. Perhaps a confessional had not been the best course of action. Perhaps the only way we could be relieved of our sins was through punishment.

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld​​, @sweetsec-93​​, @cltex84​​, @jana-banana-fana​​, @dark-night-sky-99​​, @warriorqueen1991​​, @blackredrose27​​​, @jynzandtonic​​​, @ellelaconiwrites​​​. @bestblondebuddy​​​

#kylo ren angst #kylo ren #kylo ren fic #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren fluff #kylo ren au #kylo ren smut #kylo renxoc #priest kink #priest au #priest Kylo Ren #ben solo #ben solo angst #ben solo fic #ben solo fanfiction #ben solo fanfic #ben solo feels #ben solo fluff #ben solo smut #ben solo au #ben soloxoc #star wars #Star Wars fanfic #Star Wars Fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars feels #star wars fluff #star wars smut #star wars angst

[notapaladin]

save you from that sunday sermon

If you’re reading this, you’ve almost survived 2020! Have some extremely gratuitous priest/religion kink to celebrate. This may or may not be specifically for @votgs; IDK if you’ve yet read the canon this is based on but I hope you like it anyway!

also on AO3, like all my works

-

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

The inside of the confessional booth was dry and smelled of incense. Outside, it promised to be another scorching hot day, but away from the sun all was dark and cool. Soothing, Acatl had always thought.

It was less soothing now.

It wasn’t the first time Teomitl had come to confession, but they were always small things—losing his temper, judging too quickly. He swore he was working on his flaws, and Acatl believed him. They’d known each other since Acatl’s transferal to this large parish, when Teomitl had bounded up to him after Mass with a smile that had struck him to the core. It was a smile he’d soon grown dangerously used to seeing every Sunday, a few rows back from the front. But outside of Mass and confession they never really spoke, and this was the first time Teomitl had ever sat on this side of the screen, in his neatly-pressed suit and shiny shoes and met his eyes.

He swallowed. It didn’t help his dry throat. Christ, but he wished he’d brought a bottle of water in with him. “Go on.”

Teomitl’s eyes were very dark as he crossed himself. “Father, Son, Holy Spirit.” The quick, sure movement of his hand imprinted itself on the back of Acatl’s eyelids when he blinked. “It has been…” And here he paused, frowning. “One week since my last confession?”

“Two.” He’d noticed Teomitl’s absence like a lost tooth. Even mentioning it made his face heat up, and he was glad for the darkness of the booth. It is not a sin to have a routine, he told himself. It’s not a sin to form a friendly attachment. He’s a parishioner, nothing more. Besides, he’ll be off to college in a few months, and I won’t see him again.

But Teomitl was slightly flushed, eyes widening, and he felt himself blush faintly in response. “You noticed?”

Acatl couldn’t look away from his face. “I did. God will forgive whatever sins you’ve committed since then, you know that. You never need to hide from Him.”

Now Teomitl was definitely blushing. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, and Acatl recognized it for the nervous, stalling-for-time gesture it was. “Even if…”

He was silent. In his years as a priest, he’d heard a great deal of sins, many of them sexual, and few truly capable of shocking him. Besides, he couldn’t imagine Teomitl doing anything horrible. Embarrassing, maybe. But a true, mortal sin? No. Not him. He would never. He’s a fine, upstanding young man—better even than I was in the seminary, though of course he’s far more worldly. Indeed, though he always took them out for church Acatl could make out the tiny holes where piercings decorated his earlobes the rest of the week. It was more than a little distracting.

Finally, Teomitl met his eyes again and spoke. “There’s...someone I want very badly, Father.”

Christ on the cross. Not high school relationship drama. “And?”

“Someone—unsuitable.” Teomitl caught his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, gaze drifting to the floor. “My family would never approve.”

He could think of a lot of women who could be unsuitable for the youngest son of an obscenely wealthy family. “Is she too old for you? Too poor? Seeing someone else?” He thought for a moment. “A teacher?” God knows I remember what my last year of high school was like. I think my entire class thought they were in love with the science teacher. Thank goodness all that’s well behind me now.

Teomitl shook his head. After a moment, he took a deep breath. “A man.”

Acatl felt his world gently tilt and resettle itself on this new angle. He knew he should say something—something reassuring, something comforting—but all he could do was blink at nothing. A man, Teomitl had said. Nothing like the awkward mumblings he’d heard before, of Oh, there’s a boy from school…

Eventually, he found his voice, and the words tore themselves from his heart. “Teomitl. God has made you to love whom you love, and He loves you no matter who that is. And love can never be a sin.” I don’t care what your family might have made you think. I’d have words with them, if I thought it would do any good.

Teomitl’s smile lit up the booth. “Mm. I hoped you’d say that.”

He couldn’t help smiling in return. It was infectious, even as it woke a little voice in him that hissed he was going too far, getting too attached. “Tell me about him?”

And now he had the pleasure of watching Teomitl bite his lip, shyly pleased. “Ah. He’s...older than me, and single. Very handsome. Very kind. Patient. I look at him sometimes and think, God, I’m glad he’s not a teacher, I’d die if I had to put up with my idiot classmates being into him. But I still get to see him—and talk to him—so that’s enough.”

“He sounds like a prize.” Acatl was not going to be jealous. He was not. It wasn’t his place. “Are you...going to tell him?”

“Do you think I should?”

It wasn’t a hesitant question. Acatl was sure, looking at Teomitl’s face, that he’d already made up his mind. Still...to be asked for his opinion warmed his heart. “I think that the worst that could happen is that he would turn you down gently, and then you would know how he felt.” And then his brain shut off and his traitorous mouth kept moving, because apparently he had more to say. “But...I cannot see how he’d say no, Teomitl. I can’t see how anyone could say no to you.”

“...Oh.”

Teomitl was silent for a long, long moment. And then he reached across the space separating them, and put a hand on Acatl’s knee.

Acatl promptly forgot how to breathe. The touch electrified him, warm skin searing through the thin fabric of his cassock and the dress slacks he wore underneath it, and even the crimson shame coursing through his veins was erased. Shame required him to think, and he wasn’t capable of that with Teomitl touching him.

“Teomitl.” It came out as a croak.

Teomitl rubbed his thumb in a gentle little circle over the inside of his knee, which didn’t help at all. And then they locked eyes, and the smile that had been flickering around the edges of his face turned slow and hungry. “Father Acatl.”

He became gradually aware that he was gaping like a fish. It took three tries for him to find his voice, and even then he stuttered. “I—you---!”

Teomitl’s eyes gleamed. “I told you. I want you very badly.”

“Ngk.” He’s an incubus in human shape. That’s the only explanation. “I can’t…”

Nails scratched lightly at his thigh, and he made a strangled noise. Teomitl was looking at him through lowered lashes now, pinning him in place with the heat of his gaze. “You just told me you can’t see anyone rejecting me. Are you really not including yourself?”

“I—I am a priest.” It wasn’t an answer.

And Teomitl knew it, because his fingers started to trail lightly up the inside of Acatl’s thigh. “And so?”

“I took vows.” He should pull away. He knew he should pull away. But he couldn’t move, and the blood racing through his veins was pulsing through his cock even from such a simple touch. I’ve never—Christ, I’ve never— He’d never been this close before. He’d never been this tempted before. Outside the confessional, he knew the church was deserted. Nobody would hear if he cried out, and the statues of the saints were only plaster and paint.

“Ah.” Teomitl’s smile turned mocking. “Those. Do they really matter to you right now?”

He drew a slow breath. “They should. I’ve kept them this long.”

“Father.” Now Teomitl was licking his lips, slow and pointed, and he couldn’t look away from how dark they were. It would be so easy—so, so easy—to capture them with his own. “Have you never even thought about…” He trailed off, letting his fingertips continue their slow slide up Acatl’s inseam, and there was no way Acatl could hide his arousal.

He had to close his eyes. He couldn’t lie to Teomitl’s face. “No. Never.”

“A righteous man.”

And gods, his voice was a purr. It made Acatl think of of smashing his vows like glass on the floor, and for a moment all he could do was breathe. “A man of the cloth.” His own voice shook.

Long, strong fingers came to rest at the base of his throat, gently tugging his collar aside. Frozen, feeling his heartbeat in every inch of his own skin, he let it happen. “Too much cloth, I think.”

When he swallowed, Teomitl’s fingers brushed against his bare skin. “You—you’re mocking me.”

Teomitl lowered his voice. There was no more humor in it, nothing but a deadly seriousness. “I do not mock, Father. Look at me.”

He opened his eyes. Teomitl was leaning forward, legs spread and eyes burning. Acatl’s gaze fell unbidden to the bulge in his slacks, and it made his mouth water. His slack fingers twitched at the arms of his chair; for the space of a heartbeat, he was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to touch. To palm all that hardness, to undo belt and zipper and—

He’d never heard his own voice so rough. “I’m looking.”

“It’s all for you.” Teomitl was smiling again, crooked and almost teasing, but the hand that was sliding up Acatl’s thigh was now brushing warm knuckles against his erection and he had to bite back a whine. “If you want to take it.”

He took one deep breath, and another. He was suddenly, acutely aware of all the layers separating their skin, of their suits and his cassock which now definitely had too many buttons—no, he could hike it up, it would be fine. “I—“ There were no words. He had no words here, and no defense in the eyes of God.

Forgive me, O Lord, for what I am about to do.

He stood up, grabbed Teomitl, and pulled him into a hard kiss. It was messy and awkward—he’d only ever kissed anyone once, and that had been at his senior prom just to see what it was like—but Teomitl knew what he was doing; he tilted his head, buried his hands in Acatl’s hair, and made it hungry. Filthy. He heard a growl and realized it was coming from his own throat as their bodies pressed together, molding Teomitl’s lean, solid muscle against his own frame. Too many clothes. We’re wearing—too many fucking clothes—

Teomitl clearly had the same idea. His hands left Acatl’s hair to scramble over his cassock instead, popping buttons and fumbling with his collar until clearly giving it up as a lost cause. “Christ—how many layers—“

Acatl thought he should probably pull away so at least Teomitl could see what he was doing, but it seemed far more important to undo his shirt buttons and bare the base of his throat so he could lower his head and find out what sort of noises the boy made when he put his mouth there. He licked over the pulse in his jugular and was rewarded with a breathless gasp that made him rock forward on instinct, grinding roughly against Teomitl’s hard cock. “Leave it. You say you want me?”

Teomitl let out a frustrated little snarl and grabbed his hips, fingers digging in almost hard enough to hurt. “Fuck. Yes. Jesus, yes—want you to fuck me right here—“

Even the thought of it made him groan, but then the words sank in and his breath stuttered. “I’ve never—I don’t—“ Never thought I’d do this, didn’t plan for this, don’t know how—

“I do.” And Teomitl’s grin was wild and bright as he pressed him against the confessional bench; when the backs of his knees hit the edge they bent automatically, and then his cassock was hiked up around his waist and Teomitl was staring down at him with a predatory light in his eye. His shirt was half undone and there was a red mark on his throat, and he looked obscene.

He looked divine.

“Jesus Christ.”

He didn’t realize he’d spoken the words aloud until Teomitl’s mouth curved into a slow grin. “Taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

He didn’t get a chance to respond; Teomitl was undoing his belt and stepping neatly out of his trousers and underwear, and his mouth went dry at the sight. He was magnificent. This was worth taking the Lord’s name in vain for. This was worth anything. “Teo—“ He was cut off by Teomitl moving to straddle his thighs, as easily as though he’d done it a hundred times before. Maybe he had; Acatl wouldn’t be surprised.

The hands that freed his erection and gave it a slow, wickedly light caress certainly knew what they were doing, and he had to grit his teeth against an embarrassingly needy hiss. Teomitl’s hot, solid weight pinned him to the bench, leaving him just enough room to rock into that touch; seeking something to anchor him to earth, he dug his nails into Teomitl’s thighs. That got an immediate response—Teomitl’s eyes widened, and he sucked in a hard breath before rasping out, “I’d rather you take me.”

His cock jumped a little at the mere thought, and for a moment he had to squeeze his eyes shut. God, he really wants me—he could have anyone he wanted, anyone at all, and he picked me— “Fuck. Christ. Okay.” Not eloquent, but he was past that now.

There was lube. Thank God there was lube. Thank God that Teomitl had come prepared, was arching his back like something out of the filthiest late-night porn videos he’d ever watched—but better, so much better, because this was real. He slid one slick finger into that heat, careful, and was rewarded with a hitched breath; encouraged, he pressed a kiss to Teomitl’s collarbone and got an actual gasp in response.

He likes that. Good. He mouthed harder at that same spot, the back of his mind spinning into overdrive as he tried to remember what he’d read about how to make it good; Teomitl deserved the best. A bit more lube, a different angle, and suddenly Teomitl’s panting kicked up into a sharp little cry. He trembled at the sound and did it again.

There wasn’t any way Acatl could get deeper, but from the way Teomitl ground his hips he seemed determined to try. “Oh—oh, you liar,” he breathed delightedly, spreading his legs wider for better access. This time when he wriggled it pressed their cocks together, and Acatl had to take a slow breath to keep himself under control.

“I confess in the sight of the Lord my God that I have sinned,” he murmured against Teomitl’s throat, and nipped sharply at the skin to punctuate his words. Then he added another finger, reveling in the incoherent whine that stuttered out. It was tight—tighter than he thought it would be, and for a moment he worried it would hurt—but then Teomitl arched and rolled his hips forward and that seemed to do something, because he had a bit more room to move.

He had to move, had to keep stretching Teomitl open, because to do otherwise would have been to deprive himself of the boy’s reactions. He was done with depriving himself. Each broken gasp and high-pitched keen was music to his ears, a feast for a starving man, and as he left marks all over the long column of Teomitl’s throat he could feel their vibrations against his mouth. Teomitl’s voice nearly cracked when he tried to actually speak. “Ah—hah, Father, please—“

“Hmm?” He’d never felt like this before—stretched taut with power, with anticipation. Dangerous. A blisteringly hot thought lanced through him—Christ, I could keep you strung out like this for hours—and his cock twitched with the intensity of it. He curled his fingers inside him purely to feel the way his walls clenched and rippled, and Teomitl broke.

“Fuck me, damn you!”

He sent up a brief, heartfelt prayer for stamina. He knew he was going to need it. “God—yes—“

And then he was pulling his fingers out, and guiding himself in, and the sheer slick heat bearing down around him made his eyes roll back in his head. Teomitl lowered himself down; he was doing most of the work and Acatl thanked God for that, because it was all he could do to keep himself steady. By the time he was sheathed to the hilt they were both trembling, and he had to drop his head to Teomitl’s shoulder and take a few deep breaths before he could even think coherently. “Oh, my Lord…”

Teomitl hissed through his teeth, rocking impatiently. “Praying at a time like this?”

His body seemed to know what to do better than he did; it was almost second nature to settle his hands at Teomitl’s waist, to brace his feet on the floor and grind his hips up. Teomitl dug his nails into his shoulders, and even through his clothes it made him jolt. “You.” Teomitl did something with his thighs, and for a moment he couldn’t speak at all. “You should try it. Don’t—nngh, recall you actually confessing a sin.”

He could think of a few Teomitl had committed since his arrival; looking at him the way he was now, for instance, was definitely Pride inspiring the sin of Lust. Worse, judging by the way he smirked he was entirely unrepentant. In response to Acatl’s words, he raised his hips up and then sank back down, a smooth motion that pulled a groan out of him. It would be easy, he thought, to let Teomitl do all the work—but he didn’t feel like taking it easy, and Teomitl had been making the sweetest sounds earlier.

It still took a few tries to establish any kind of rhythm; he got nearly a quarter of the way through a mental Our Father before Teomitl shifted his hips at just the right angle, and he bucked his hips up in response, and Teomitl made a desperate noise and clenched down around him so hard he raked his nails down Teomitl’s back and snarled something profane into his ear. “Like that?”

Teomitl nodded frantically and did it again, setting up a steady rise-and-fall; all Acatl could do in response was meet it as best he could. But like this—now that they’d figured out how they were proceeding, now that he knew what to do—he could claw back some of his focus. It was easier to kiss Teomitl like this, rough and messy, and when he bit at his throat Teomitl gasped.

And then he started to speak. “Bless me—Lord—“ Teomitl’s voice went high, reedy, and he keened as Acatl rolled his hips upwards. “For I have—“ He broke off, shuddering, as Acatl thrust wildly up into him again; it did something, hearing the words of a sacrament on his lips at a time like this, and he wasn’t going to question or examine it when it made fire race through his veins.

“Keep going.” He barely recognized his own voice so rough with desire. “I want to—Christ, I want to hear you.” Want the entire chapel to hear you. Want God in his heaven to hear you. Want to make you scream.

Teomitl’s breath hitched, fingers scrabbling down Acatl’s spine; it must have been doing something for him too, because he was riding him even harder. And he kept talking, words broken by near-sobs of pleasure each time Acatl slid deep. “For I have—ah—most wickedly and with full knowledge of the—oh fuck—consequences—ah!”

He raised himself up and Acatl let him, breathing hard. He’d grabbed fistfuls of the back of Teomitl’s shirt; it was possibly the only thing enabling him to keep his focus. “What.”

“Tempted a priest to sin.” Teomitl’s smirk could have tempted a saint. It could have tempted an angel of the Lord. Mary would have thrown away her blessed virginity for that smirk.

Acatl grabbed his hips and pulled him back down. I’ll show you sin, he thought, and after that it blurred a bit. He was aware only of Teomitl’s nails raking over his back, the creak of the bench under them as they moved together, the slick impossible heat of being inside him. Each thrust was another bolt of lightning up his spine, another tight coil of pleasure in his gut, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Just a little longer—please, God, I want to feel him—

Teomitl broke hard, suddenly, and all at once. His back arched, hips snapping, and then he was squeezing down around Acatl’s cock and spilling himself all over both their stomachs with a raw gasp of “Christ,” and there was absolutely no chance of Acatl lasting any longer after that. His own release hit him like an oncoming storm, and for what felt like an eternity his mind was entirely blank with the shock of it.

By the time he could think again, Teomitl had let go of the back of his cassock in favor of wrapping strong, solid arms around him, resting his head against his. It was soothing. Grounding. He needed it; he still felt faintly electrified. Christ. Jesus. “...Virgin Mary, Mother of God.” It came out in a long, mumbling rush, and it was nowhere near enough to express whatever was going through his head. He didn’t even know what was going through his head. He was still buried inside Teomitl, and he didn’t want to leave.

Teomitl took a long breath and let it out in a sigh. “God. Yeah. That was…”

“...Amazing.” There probably wasn’t enough penance in the world for this, but that was a problem for future him. In the meantime, he slid his hands slowly over Teomitl’s bare thighs and nestled his forehead into the curve of his shoulder, feeling their heartbeats slow down to normal.

“...I think I ruined your robe. Coat. Thing.”

He sucked in a lungful of too-warm air and forced down the tide of guilt that wanted to choke him. No. God, I love You, but You are not allowed to ruin this moment. “Cassock. It can be washed.”

Teomitl shifted. It was getting uncomfortable to be so joined together; still, when he lifted himself off of Acatl’s cock, he shuddered at the overstimulation of it. “Nnh...oh, fuck, we made a mess.”

They had. He tried not to think about the actual state of his trousers as he reached for the box of tissues he kept by the bench in case of crying parishioners. Postcoital cleanup was one of those things no amount of independent research had prepared him for, but as awkward as it was, at least it meant he didn’t have to talk. Now that the endorphins were fading, he didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He was far too aware of Teomitl slipping back into his own pants, of the flex of muscle and the rustle of fabric so close to him.

Finally, Teomitl did up his belt and broke the silence between them. “So. Same time next week?”

He nearly choked on his own spit, feeling his face catch fire. “I…”

Worse, Teomitl was smirking again. He could hear it in his voice, that wicked curl that sent heat through his veins all over again. “I’m sure I’ll have a lot to confess.”

Before he could think better of it he drew himself up to better meet Teomitl’s eyes, desire shifting to the first stirrings of irritation. You may tease me, but do not mock me. “We haven’t discussed your penance for this one.”

“Oh?” The question came with a curious tilt of his head, but the gleam in his eyes was far from innocent.

“As you said, you tempted a priest to sin—to break the vows I made before God.” He could hardly believe his own daring. Even after what they’d just done, it seemed like too much of a transgression. He was being too greedy, asking too much. But somehow, it felt right. After breaking one vow, what worth are the rest? When he spoke, his voice didn’t shake at all. “Give me your number. Next time you have these...urges…” He swallowed. “Call me?”

Teomitl’s smile was his answer.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #not work safe #paladin writes stuff

[21stcenturyyfoxx]

Keanu x Reader smut

Characters: Keanu x Reader.

Summary: Constantine: Book II has been green lighted, script placed in your hands by your director friend, Kim. It’s an all woman team just about and you’re nervous about an upcoming sex scene with Reeves. That is until an offer you can’t refuse is propositioned to you.

Warnings: SMUT. Cursing. Degradation. Hardcore smut (choking, air play/breath play, etc.) Daddy kink!

———————————————————

You paced your trailer, a war raging inside your brain. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t fake your way into it if you tried.

You bit your nails absentmindedly, something you’d done since you were a child; habits die hard.

A knock on your trailer door startled you out of your rabid, self-doubting trance.

You opened the door to reveal the director, a close friend.

“Kim, I can’t do it.” You spoke in exasperation as you plopped on the couch next to her, a white robe clinging to your skin; your hands flailing about before finding your head in desperation.

Kim sat there for a moment before speaking.

“Can’t do what? The altar scene?” She asked curiously, her brows furrowing with concern.

The ‘altar scene’ as it was dubbed was a prominent arc in the movie, Reeves’ character, Constantine would take his partner, your character, into a quiet cathedral and — after a heated battle, or moment, have his way with her as she was sprawled out before him on the church’s sacrificial altar.

But you couldn’t force yourself to do it — you simply could not force yourself to fake an orgasm; despite your efforts, even in relationships in your real life, you could never fake it. If it wasn’t up to par then you simply spoke your mind and told your partner you just couldn’t climax. Normally it resulted in you being single after that.

“I can’t fake an orgasm...” you whispered to your friend, like the whole world would hear your confession; Kim sat there a moment once again, contemplating ideas in her brilliant mind.

“I’ll talk to Keanu about it... and have him come talk to you.. I have an idea but let me discuss it with him first. Sound like a plan?” She looked at you, trying to gauge a reaction; you simply nodded as she stood up and made her way out of your trailer and into Keanu’s with an idea.

———————————————————

Sometime later as the set came to a close, your scene with Keanu delayed until the next day due to ’Y/N being under the weather.’ You sat on your couch, head in your hands, sighing loudly. You couldn’t do it, you thought, maybe you should just quit — the scenes already filmed were only far and few for now, this next scene would mark a crucial point for your character, having you more screen time.

Suddenly a knock at your door broke your thoughts, a labored sigh of frustration once again left your lips; you opened the door to find Keanu standing there.

“May I climb on up?” He asked, his eyes focused on you; a suspicious bag in his hand. You nodded.

“Well, of course.” You smiled gently as you stood to the side letting him into your space. Making his way over to the couch, he sat down with a grunt; his body feeling the effects of the role he was playing.

“Kim, uh, came to me earlier this evening with a rather — strange affliction.” He said while shuffling his feet awkwardly against the trailers carpet. His grip on the small bag tightening. His eyes didn’t meet your worried stare.

“What she have to say?”

“You can’t fake an orgasm on cue.”

“Never could do something like that.”

The conversation felt as if your body wasn’t having it, it felt foreign. You rubbed your throat, as if telling yourself to calm down. It was an awkward conversation to be having but it had to be said.

You motioned to the bag.

“What’s with that?” You said eyeing it through furrowed brows and squinted eyes. You heard Keanu sigh, his hand playing with the bag.

“She brought up the idea of.. well..” he trailed off, shuffling his feet again.

“Her idea, with your consent, of course, is to well, use a vibrator — on you.” You looked at him bewilderedly, you saw him swallow hard, wiping his palms on his dark jeans. He did look good. He was incredibly handsome. No, stop. You shook your head snapping you away from any sexually frustrating and intrusive thoughts about your co-star.

“I- uh, I guess we could, I could...” you stumbled over your words.

“We..” he spoke as he looked up at your form. Beautiful, nervous, but gorgeous. His thoughts trampled over the other. He was really going to use something so scandalous in a scene — that’s never happened before. He cleared his throat, stopping his thoughts.

You stood there, feeling unable to breathe. Keanu has stood up, placing himself right in front of you, offering the bag to you.

“I went and found some, toys. You should pick the one you’d like to test out.” His voice sounded far away and muffled as blood rushed to your head; you nodded silently as your eyes scanned the contents of the plastic bag.

A normal vibrator, a clit stimulator, an internal vibrator — even vibrating panties were all in there; packaged in snuggly. Your cheeks turn flushed at the sight, your eyes raising to look at Keanu who was also red in the face.

“I- uh, I think we should test these two.” You said lifting the regular toy and the clit stimulator out of the bag.

Keanu nodded, his masculine hands taking the bag away and grabbing the two toys from your minuscule grasp.

“Would you lay down then, pretty girl.” He cooed softly, his pupils blown just a little.

You did as you were asked, the robe you were still tucked away into gently being removed by Keanu. His breathing hitched as he saw your naked form before him.

“Stop staring.” You tried to cover yourself, old insecurities creeping through your lips.

Keanu’s hands quickly wrapped themselves around your dainty wrist, moving them. “You look beautiful, baby.” He said faintly as he kissed the insides of your wrists.

He grabbed the regular vibrator, a slender, tubular purple one. Turning the speed onto low to begin. He traced it around your thighs, dipping it from the outside realm of your thighs to the sensitive inner part of your thighs; your moans igniting softly at first.

His eyes never leaving your face, gathering cues from you as to what he should try next.

His next move was place a subtle kiss onto your neck until he earned another moan, this time louder than the first. His tongue escaping his parted lips, sliding across your flesh. The toy in his hand slipping against your slit a few times, teasingly, before pushing inside you.

“C-can you turn it up?” You spoke, your voice like honey, smooth and innocent but he knew it would soon be wild and untamed for him.

“Can you say the magic word for me?” He whispered into your ear, his voice had grown deeper somehow. Lust.

“Please?“ You begged, your voice higher pitched from arousal. You squirmed as he turned it up to a medium vibration, gauging your reaction.

”More, please? Please, Daddy?” You mentally slapped yourself for the name that you had let fall from your lips.

Keanu groaned to himself, turning the speed all the way to high. Your moans fell into obscenity, your hips rolling with every course of pleasure.

“Goddamnit.” You hissed, slipping a hand between the two of you, your feverishly began rubbing circles onto your sensitive nerve, you moaned out in frustration.

“Let me.. let me do that.” He pleaded, his eyes matching yours; you nodded, removing your hand and placing it on his bicep. Your eyes gazing up to him, watching his movement as he stuck his thumb in his mouth, covering it in his saliva before rubbing harsh, yet enjoyable circles and patterns against your clit.

Your hips bucked at the touch, your frustration easing but only under his grasp.

“Take it out, please?” You groaned.

“You have to get off on a toy...” He spoke sternly, almost commandingly.

“I’d rather get off on you.” You confessed, a sinful look shot through his eyes.

Quickly, without any warning he abandoned the vibrator, his thumb never leaving your sensitive button. His other hand skillfully removing his belt before unzipping his pants; exposing his hardened length to you.

You gasped as he pushed his cock passed your folds, his cock gliding in and out of you so effortlessly. Your moans only growing louder.

“Fuck, harder... please.” You whimpered.

“Please what, you filthy little whore.” He cursed, grabbing your hair in his fists.

“Please, Daddy.” You whined, his hold on your hair becoming brutal and painful but you took it; his flesh slapping against yours in perfect rhythm. You both groaned and grunted as ecstasy filled the small trailer.

“God fucking damn.” He cried out, bottomed out into you with a force as he raised his hips back up just to drive into you with brutal precision. Your hands flew to his hair, gripping tightly.

“Choke me... Daddy, please.. please...” you begged shamelessly. Your body shaking and bouncing from what he was doing to you.

His hand immediately complied to what you had asked so nicely. His grip around your throat light at first, as if he were asking for permission from you to be rougher.

“Fuck... Keanu.. make me fucking black out — I don’t fucking care..” You hissed, your words like music to his ears as he wrapped both hands around your throat as he violently fucked you; your vision becoming blurrier by the second, your hands gripping the top of his.

Your airway was constricted but you were in heaven. Keanu only let go when he knew you absolutely needed to breathe. His eyes boring down into yours with every thrust; after a few moments his hands found their way back around your throat.

“Holy fuck..” he groaned out, his eyes closing as his head tipped back for only a second before he looked down at you.

“Open your mouth.” He growled, you did as your were told.

Keanu leaned over you, spitting directly in your mouth without any hesitation. You moaned out, swallowing every last drop of his saliva. He growled, almost as if he hated you and wanted to tear you apart.

”Filthy bitch.” He hissed.

You felt the sensation of orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach, electric fire swirling around your insides. You gripped his arms, his hold on your throat ever present.

“I’m gonna cum..” you whined holding onto him.

“Awww, the filthy little whore is gonna cum? All over daddy’s cock?” He snickered.

You felt a brave impulse radiate through you just to see what he’d do to you.

“Fuck you..” you cursed him. Soon a slap was delivered to your face, leaving your hair tousled over your cheeks along with a red mark.

Keanu grunted as he felt your sopping cunt clench around his length.

“Fuck..” he moaned, his thrusts gaining power as he was oozing dangerously close to his own climax.

“I’m gonna... I- I...” You whimpered under him.

“Cum for Daddy, baby. Cum for me you filthy fucking whore.” He growled desperate to feel you clench around him.

You screamed out in bliss moments later, your body tensing and shaking uncontrollably; Keanu soon followed suit as he spilled his hot load inside you.

“Goddamn..” he breathed out, falling next to you on the bed.

You moaned out feeling his load slip out of you and cascading down your thighs, but you dared not to move, wanting to revel in the after math of the encounter.

“We still... need to use that stimulator on you, baby.” He said turning his head towards you, his eyes hooded with bliss and tiredness.

“We have all night and half the day tomorrow..” You smiled with a pause.

“Daddy..” you smirked, placing a soft, thankful kiss to Keanu’s lips.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands finding your waist under the covers.

“I love that name...” he smirked back before the two of you laid there silently, soon after you two succumbed to blissful sleep.

A/N: happy Sunday I need Jesus.

Tags: @fanficsrusz @fan-wicktion @meetmeinthematinee @johnfuckingwick @stardustbabyxo and to anyone I forget to tag bc I’m tired lol

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #SMUT #smut #keanu reeves smut

[icyharrington]

Repentance (Michael Langdon X Reader)

y’all better believe me when i say, writing this fic kicked my fucking ass. holy shit. i really hope y’all like it tho !! i haven’t been this excited about an idea in a while. i didn’t proofread this tooooo hard, so i’m sorry if there are any mistakes!! 

plot: you’re a sinner. luckily for you, michael langdon is willing to help you repent.

warnings: priest!AU, fem!reader, BLASPHEMY, i mean really lmao u deadass fuck a priest in a church, dirty talk, religious talk, female & male masturbation, exhibitionism, degradation, boot licking, cum play, spanking, fingering, blowjobs/facefucking, cunnilingus, rough sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, squirting 

word count: 7.8k 

tagging some people i think might be interested: @wroteclassicaly @lvngdvns @langdonsrapture @duncvn @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @langdonsinferno @americanhorrorstudies @xtheinevitableprophecyx @tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning

You weren’t a religious person; not by any stretch of the imagination. You couldn’t recite a Hail Mary to save your life, and the last time you’d been inside a church was at your cousin’s communion years ago.

It felt so familiar yet so foreign, like the broken remnants of a dream from years before, as you made your way up the rain-slick stone steps of the old white church from your hometown. Against the dreary white sky stretched the slender branches of dead trees, splayed like corpse’s hands without their usual sheaths of greenery.

Why am I here? you thought, pulling your jacket tighter to your body as you took in a shuddery breath.

It was a good question that you didn’t have an answer to. You hadn’t planned to come here, but there was just something about the outdated building that drew you in; as you’d passed it on your drive home over break, you’d let your gaze linger perhaps too long, eyes traveling over the fading wooden planks and pointed steeple, topped with a lopsided cross that almost seemed ominous as the rain swirled around it. You’d found yourself wondering, half-heartedly, if the place was haunted.

This was the church your mother had been made to attend when she was a child, adorned with pink ribbons and patent-leather shoes. Was it always so creepy? you remembered asking her in passing.

You pushed open the doors of the church, wind rustling your hair back as you made your way inside. The inside of the church smelled musty and was visually unremarkable, furnished with rows of wooden pews, dust-laden bibles tucked into the compartments attached to their backs.

There was nobody there, which you’d anticipated, seeing that there had been only a few cars in the parking lot when you’d arrived. All at once you felt stupid for having shown up, unsure of what your goal had been to begin with.

The only sound in the church came from your boots against the blue velour flooring, fingertips tracing the cool edges of the pews as you made your way towards the back, where the altar was. Adjacent to the altar was a small wooden booth, which you immediately recognized as a confessional. Your grandparents had taken you to church, once when you were very young, and had insisted you sit in the booth and confess your sins. You’d felt so grown up sitting there behind the curtain, the small space seeming much more expansive in contrast with your petite frame; with your head bowed, you’d solemnly told the priest that sometimes, you took extra cookies when your mother’s back was turned, and in turn he’d instructed you to recite a Hail Mary.

Approaching the confessional, you tugged idly at the heavy velvet curtain, running your fingers over the frayed material. You wondered what sorts of sins you might confess to now; it wasn’t often you reflected on your actions or sought any sort of forgiveness, at least not from an omnipotent being that you were unsure about the existence of, anyway. You pulled it open, wincing at the jarring sound of metal rings scraping against the beam that the curtain hung from. The inside of the booth was dark and smelled like dust. You coughed.

“Hello, my child.”

Startled, you jumped at the slightly echoed sound of a smooth voice drifting from the metal grate. You leaned up against the doorway, one hand drawn to your chest, squinting in an attempt to more closely view the shadowy figure apparent on the other side.

“I didn’t know anybody was here,” you said softly, heart pounding. “I- I was just taking a look around.”

“A newcomer, are we?” The voice was beautiful; with each vowel the man formed came a sort of melody, low and languid, and you realized that your arms had become overtaken with goosebumps. Was the temperature of the little booth cooler than the rest of the church? You couldn’t be sure, but again you hugged your jacket closer to you.

You chuckled, taking a step further inside, suddenly intrigued. “Something like that.”

“You don’t come to these sorts of places often,” said the voice, a statement rather than an inquiry.

“No,” you agreed. “I don’t.”

There was a period of silence, and without being entirely sure why, you reached over and pulled the curtain shut, shrouding yourself in darkness. Through the metal grate, you could see the figure of the man shift, and gingerly you sat down.

“So why did you come?” asked the priest, although something about his tone told you that he already knew the answer, perhaps even better than you did. Was all of this small talk normal during a confession?

“I- I’m not really sure,” you said truthfully, folding and un-folding your hands over your lap as you became increasingly more nervous.

“Sure you do.”

You cocked an eyebrow, shifting on the uncomfortable surface below you, moving to dig your hands deep into the pockets of your jacket.  

“Is there something eating at you, my child?”

Your lips turned down at the sides as you considered this. Was something eating at you? Deep down, in the depths of your mind that you didn’t dare tread?

“I- Maybe?” you said finally. Your entire body was on edge and you couldn’t be quite sure why. You weren’t frightened, not really, but you were certainly feeling something out of the ordinary.

“You’ve been thinking a lot lately, haven’t you?” said the man, and you found your eyes half-closing in bliss as you reveled in the silky texture of his syllables. “Reflecting. Worrying, even.”

You nodded weakly; despite the barrier between the two of you, he seemed to pick up on your wordless reply.

“You’re afraid that you’re a bad person,” he said simply, and you could almost swear that he was laughing around those last two words, a twinge of mocking to his tone.

Your mouth went dry, and you cleared your throat. “What makes you say that?”

“Don’t we all worry that sometimes? Fear ourselves, our wickedness.”

You blinked, utterly confused at the strange turn that this conversation was taking. Yet still, somehow, you felt compelled to stay.

His voice lowered to a breathy whisper, sending waves of…something through your body and making you squirm. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

“Y-yes?” you croaked, eyes wide as a single slat of pale light fell upon the man behind the barrier, and for a brief moment you could see an eye, hooded and blue, looking in at you.

“We’re all bad people. Every last one of us.”

You swallowed.

“Even you, my sweet child.” He moved closer to the openings in the barrier, and you could just barely make out the shape of a pair of lips, curved and plump. “Especially you.”  

“F-father-“

“-Langdon,” he corrected. “Call me Langdon.”

You repeated his name softly, so quietly even you could hardly hear it, and you heard the man inhale sharply at this. You liked the way his name tasted rolling off your tongue, sinful and sweet. There was no way this man was a priest. But if he wasn’t a priest, then who was he?

What was he?

“You,” he began, and you could almost sense the smirk on his face as he spoke. “Are a very bad girl.”

Oh my god. This wasn’t really happening, was it? Had you stumbled into a porn set unknowingly? Once the thought crossed your mind, you almost laughed. No, he couldn’t have meant it to sound that way. He was a priest, for god’s sake.

“So what do you suggest I do?” you asked timidly, looking down to your palms, which were now covered in shallow marks from where your fingernails had been digging into the damp skin. You couldn’t see Langdon, but you were sure that his gaze would be nothing short of piercing. “Recite some Hail Marys? Ask for forgiveness? You haven’t even told me why I’ve sinned.”

He let out a dry chuckle, and you heard a dull thud as you assumed his palms made sharp contact with his thighs. “Would you like me to show you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Show me what?”

“How I know that you’re a sinner.”

You chewed pensively on your lip, before clearing your throat with a sort of self-assured finality. “Fine. But I’m starting to think you’re full of shit.” You added the last part in an attempt to lessen how vulnerable you appeared to the man; you doubted it would change much, but something told you that you were going to need all the confidence you could get.

He let out an amused hum at your words, the silhouette of a hand reaching forward and pressing against the metal. Up close, you could see the protruding veins in Langdon’s large, calloused hand, with several expensive-looking rings adorning his long fingers, and you willed away a certain feeling that was threatening to impose itself upon you.

“Come on,” he urged, and you reached out to mirror his actions, carefully placing the tip of your finger against the metal.

In an instant the world was bathed with a sudden bright, unholy light, and with each turn of your head you could see clear images; images of unspeakable darkness, of depravity and desire. You recognized them all from your dreams, from passing thoughts you’d tried to usher away, from the shadows cast across your bedroom walls late at night. The images were pulled straight from your mind.

You drew your hand back as thought it’d been burned, letting out a pitiful yelp as tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks. You blinked, and all at once you were back in the confessional booth, colorful spots dancing before your vision as if to taunt you.

“What the fuck was that?” you demanded, but the words sounded weak once they’d passed your lips.

“Oh, come on,” said Langdon coolly. “You can’t be that unfamiliar with your own mind.”

“Those- those things,” you murmured, teeth chattering as the booth seemed to grow colder with each passing second. “They weren’t from my mind.”

Were they?

You could see your breath in front of you now, and in one swift, desperate motion, you lunged for the curtain and tore it open, stumbling out into the light. The second you left the booth, you fell limply into the front pew of the church, heart hammering in your chest as you struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

You could hear something stir inside the booth, the door to the priest’s side cracking slightly before a man- Langdon- emerged from the darkness. He was tall and clothed entirely in black, save for a starched white collar, with golden waves cascading over broad shoulders and framing his angular face. He was handsome- devastatingly so, in fact, with fierce, light eyes and full lips that curved into a devious smile.

You supposed you should be afraid, after what he’d just shown you. You supposed you should turn and run and never look back, finally leaving your hometown for good like you’d always vowed.

But you didn’t.

“Who are you?” you asked him in earnest, breath catching in your throat as he approached you, an unreadable expression on his face as he looked you over.

He grinned, and in his eyes you saw something entirely wicked. “I’m the man who’s going to absolve you of all your sins.”

“Wh-what? You’re going to make me pray?” At this, he laughed, unbridled and loud.

“Oh, my poor, sweet, dear,” he drawled, dragging the toe of his impeccably shined black shoes along the ground as he clasped his hands neatly behind his back. “Of course not. I’m going to make you repent.”

He stopped only a few feet in front of you, tilting his head and dragging his gaze over your body, which was fairly well-covered in jeans and a jacket. Still, you felt exposed under his stare, helpless.

“But I’m afraid that you’ve committed so many sins in your lifetime that it would take far too long to have you repent for every single one,” he said matter-of-factly. “Which is why you’ll repent for each cardinal sin instead.”

“And what if I don’t want to repent?” you said defiantly, though you weren’t sure that this was the type of man you wanted to be disobeying. You couldn’t help yourself, though; you had to test the waters, see what might happen if you put up a fight.

He gave you a pointed look, and you thought he might utterly devour you right then.

“I don’t think that’s the case, though, is it?” he said, taking one hand out from behind his back and stroking the backside of his hand along your jaw. You tensed at his touch, a chill making its way up your spine when he used his thumb to trail lazily along your lower lip. “I think you want to be on your knees for me.”

You widened your eyes but said nothing, watching the cocky half-smile stretch across his perfect pink lips. Why weren’t you fighting him?

He dipped forward, bringing his face only inches from yours. He was even more beautiful up close, you noticed, and you squeezed your thighs together as a familiar ache began to make itself known between them.

“I could smell your cunt from the second you stepped inside this building.”

His voice had dropped several octaves, and you shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath on your skin. The vulgarity of his words had caused you to gasp, but you couldn’t deny the way your mouth watered at the sound of his velvet-smooth voice forming the word cunt.

“I could smell it when you came inside the booth, when you heard my voice.“ His eyes flickered as he paused to take a breath. “When you said my name.”

He spoke almost condescendingly to you now, and you were frozen in place as he pulled down your lower lip, running his thumb over the inside until it was slick with your saliva.

“Most people are afflicted with desires of the flesh,” he said. “But you- your thoughts were remarkable.”

“Langdon…” you mumbled, looking down to your hands as they fidgeted aimlessly over your lap. Your cheeks were hot and had flushed bright red- from the way Langdon regarded you, with a predatory hunger woven into the perfect features of his face, you could tell that your shyness only excited him.

“Never have I come across a woman who wanted to be fucked as badly as you do,” he said, so close to you now that his lips brushed against your cheek, sending a surge of electricity through your body. “And as you can imagine, I’ve encountered a myriad of sinners in my day.”  

“So what are you gonna do about it?” you breathed, surprising yourself with your sudden bout of bravery. He seemed pleased with this response, raising an eyebrow wryly before standing up straight to look down on you.

“The first sin you’ll repent for will be lust,” he said, and you found yourself biting your bottom lip at his commanding tone.  “On your feet.”

You did as you were told, standing up from the pew and presenting yourself for the so-called priest. Then he circled you, never once allowing you to evade his sight, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he moved; finally he took a seat where you had been seconds before, splaying his palms over his muscular thighs.

You bowed your head respectfully as he observed you from his sitting position, skin burning under the weight of his pale-eyed gaze.

“Take off your clothes,” he said abruptly, crossing his legs and leaning back so that his long hair fell over the side of the pew. “Now.” Your mouth fell open, but you know better than to protest; there came that feeling again, sharp and prominent, and you quickly worked to pull off your jacket and discard it on the ground behind you. Next came your sweater and loose-fitting jeans, your hands shaking as you unbuttoned them and tugged them down your thighs, the dark denim pooling at your ankles. Once you’d bent down to take off your boots, you kicked your jeans behind you to join your discarded jacket and sweater.

You wrapped your forearms around your stomach self-consciously, all at once becoming hyper aware of the way your nipples had stiffened, poking noticeably through the thin, un-padded cup of your bra.

Langdon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and settling his chin in his palms before shooting you a venomous stare. “All your clothes.”

You nodded, reaching behind yourself to unclasp the hooks of your bra, slipping the straps down your shoulders with a timid reluctance. Pulling away the lace fabric from your breasts, you averted your eyes to the ground as Langdon took in the sight of you.

“When atoning for our sins,” he said softly, stretching his arm out to reach your face, gently guiding your chin to look at him. “We aren’t granted the luxury of modesty.”

He patted your cheek before hooking his fingertips into the waistband of your underwear, which wasn’t much more than a flimsy scrap of black lace. He inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering back into his head as he seemed to be basking in something, though you couldn’t be quite sure what. He pulled them down a few inches, exposing the smooth skin of your pelvis, and impatiently you hurried to meet his hands with yours, helping him tug off the garment altogether.  

You were about to toss the underwear alongside the rest of your clothes when he shook his head and held his hand out expectantly.

Furrowing your eyebrows slightly, you handed him the bundle of fabric. You watched with slight embarrassment as he began to level it between his palms, working the material between his fingers as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. “They’re drenched,” he remarked finally, lips curling into a disgusted sneer. “You really are a whore, aren’t you? Walking around with soaked panties, mind plagued with vile thoughts- and regarding a man of the cloth, no less.”

Despite the biting nature of his words, you could still see a mischievous sparkle behind his eyes as he pocketed your underwear.

“It’s despicable, really. Pitiful.” His tongue danced over his bottom lip until it gleamed with spit, and with a quick glance downwards you saw that he was hard. “You’re lucky I’m here to help absolve you.”

You ignored the natural impulse to try and cover up, the degrading nature of the situation arousing you far more than you cared to admit. Your center was throbbing painfully now, so intense that it was beginning to distract you, your thoughts roaming without abandon.

“Show me how you touch yourself at night when you’re alone with all those filthy thoughts,” he ordered, reclining again in his seat and casually tucking one hand behind his head. In this position, his erection was impossible to ignore, and your mouth nearly fell agape at the massiveness of the protrusion.

“Y-yes, sir,” you whispered, dizzy with lust as one hand crept towards your inner thigh, easing yourself into the task. You widened your stance, moving your hand to the warm, padded flesh at the top of your thighs, wincing when you discovered the abundance of your juices that had build up there.

“Go on,” he said, sounding as though he were calling a dog over to him. At this your fingers made contact with your neglected, pulsing clit, spreading your wetness as you formed tight, firm circles over it. You whimpered lowly, partly from the pleasure and partly from the thick humiliation blooming in your throat, and he smirked.

“Come on now, we both know you can do better than that,” he chided. “I want to see you fuck yourself.”

You swallowed thickly, pressing a finger undecidedly against your slit. Sensing your hesitation, Langdon’s demeanor shifted from somewhat playful to completely unamused, and his hand shot out to grip your wrist. He let out a bitter sigh before he spoke, eyes boring so intensely into yours that you shivered.

“I said fuck yourself.”

Your breath hitched and you scrambled to obey his commands, immediately slipping two fingers through your folds and past your entrance. You groaned at the feeling of your walls stretching out, wasting no time before you began to thrust upwards into yourself, struggling to keep yourself balanced as your knees weakened with your impending orgasm.

“You don’t really expect me to believe that slutty cunt of yours can only take two fingers, do you?” he said, and with a labored breath you shoved a third finger inside, gritting your teeth at the intrusion.

The sound of your fingers pumping in and out of your pussy was nothing short of vulgar, and you shut your eyes tightly in an attempt to ward off the shame that was rapidly engulfing you.

“Harder,” came Langdon’s harsh command, and you tried your best to comply, curling your fingers and pushing roughly against your spongey inner walls.

You were a panting mess, forehead shining with perspiration and lips bitten red and swollen, when he finally stopped you. It was cruel, the way he’d waited patiently until you were on the brink of release, but you couldn’t bring yourself to complain; this was a punishment, after all.

Wiping your glistening moisture across your thighs, you pulled your fingers from yourself; then, looking over at Langdon, you wrapped your lips around them and sucked off the remaining wetness.

He stood up, casting you over with his shadow as he towered above you. Stepping around to face you, he used the back of his sleeve to wipe away the beads of sweat that had formed by your hairline, a look of sincere tenderness on his face as he did so. That tenderness, however, was short-lived, and within seconds he’d returned to his unforgiving stance.

“Kneel.”

You did without having to be asked twice, knees instantly making contact with the faded, discolored carpet.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be entirely necessary to have you repent for the sin of pride. It’s quite clear just by looking at you that you have none left. Void of any dignity, on your knees, writhing in desperation like a bitch in heat.”

You blinked at him with eyes as wide and innocent as a doe’s, pressing your legs together as a fresh wave of arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach. You knew that he was merely teasing you, hoping to convince you that you were exempt from his punishment, but you knew better. There was no way he was planning to grant you any mercy- you could see it in his eyes as he leered coldly upon you, his pretty mouth pressed into a thin line.

“But,” he continued, just as you’d expected. “Just to be certain that you’ll be absolved, you will repent anyway.”

He lifted one leg and planted his foot on the seat of the pew, presenting you with a well-shined, expensive looking shoe, the toe of which formed into a dangerous point. “Clean it. With your mouth.”

You poised an eyebrow at the man but did not argue, fearing that he’d punish you more severely if you disobeyed. His shoe looked clean enough, not a single scuff to be seen in the shining leather, and, scooting yourself closer to the pew, you ran the tip of your tongue along the side of it experimentally. It didn’t taste like much, which helped to ease your worries, and it wasn’t before long that you were flattening your tongue and lapping at the stiff material like your life depended on it.

“Good girl,” he praised, but there was little kindness behind the encouragement. He rolled his heel back so the sole of his shoe was in your face, and with a nearly inaudible huff you began to lick up and down the patterned grooves.

Cringing at the thought of all the dirt you were letting into your mouth, you were relieved when he pulled away and jutted your chin up towards him with the tip of his shoe.

“Turn and face me,” he said, taking a step back and folding his hands behind him. You shifted away from the pew so that you were eye-level with his crotch now, eyes falling to the straining bulge in the front of his dark, immaculately pressed slacks.

A ray of red-tinted light spilled through the stained glass window behind Langdon, bouncing off the black stone of his ring as he trailed his fingers towards his belt. At a teasingly slow pace, he freed his belt from its hold, the room silent save for the soft clinking of the metal buckle.

“Most often overlooked by humanity is the sin of gluttony,” he said, the sides of his face obscured by long tendrils of golden hair. He tugged down his zipper and unbuttoned his pants, taking a moment to palm at his bulge obscenely before reaching inside to retrieve himself.

“What do you hunger for, hm?” he asked, hissing as he cupped himself inside his pants. You could see his hand sliding up and down his length just out of your sight, and you stifled the sudden compulsion to reach into his trousers and grab him.

“Do you have cravings that can’t ever seem to be satiated?” His words flowed rhythmically, tone so soft you could almost swear he was singing to you. “Do you take all that’s given to you only to find that you’re still starving?”

You bobbed your head up and down, frantic and needy, parting your lips when at last he revealed himself to you. His cock was massive, just as you’d anticipated, thick and flushed deep pink at the tip. He ran his thumb over the swollen head, smearing a bead of precum across the toughened skin around his slit.

You felt lightheaded, overwhelmed at the pure, erotic beauty of this man, this stranger, whom you’d so willingly allowed to defile you (and in a fucking church, of all places).

“You’re a ravenous little thing, aren’t you?” he mocked, fucking his hips into his loose fist with a throaty grunt. You kept your hands on your thighs, awaiting further instructions, growing restless with each passing second that his cock wasn’t in your mouth or hand.

God, you really were gluttonous.

He looked ethereal from where you knelt, full lips curved into a perfect “o” shape as he jerked himself over your face. It was fascinating to witness such a man allow himself to come undone like this, chest rising and falling and sweat forming on his brow with each stroke of his thick cock.

Tilting his head back towards the ceiling, he let out a guttural moan, quickening his tempo and bringing himself closer and closer to the edge. You were so turned on that you were fairly sure your juices must’ve dripped onto the carpet by now, a filthy proclamation of your desire; the uncomfortable throb of your cunt only intensified as you witnessed Langdon nearing his orgasm, breaths strangled and raspy.

He peered down at you, wetting his lips. “Open your mouth.”

You unhinged your jaw, angling your head under his cock like you knew he wanted. He pumped along his shaft a few more times before releasing a silky stream of hot, salty cum into your open mouth, an animalistic bellow of pleasure floating from his lips like music.

“Don’t even think about swallowing it.”

You felt his thick load begin to settle on the back of your tongue, but you ignored the instinctive urge to swallow. He tucked himself back into his pants, fastening his belt before sitting back down on the pew. He patted his thighs, eyeing you sternly, and obediently you approached him and settled yourself on his lap.

His warm thigh pushed against your core with little mercy as soon as you sat down, and you found yourself grinding down against it, chasing the pleasure that he hadn’t yet allowed you to obtain. At this, he landed his palm sharply against your thigh.

“My personal favorite sin is wrath,” Langdon said, placing his hands on your hips to keep you from wriggling around on his leg. “It’s both fascinating and amusing to see all the horrible things people can be pushed to do, all because of a little bit of rage.”

He lifted you up slightly and pulled your upper body over his lap; you complied with his adjustment, situating yourself so that you were laid fully across him, your hair falling in your face as your head hung forward- you clamped your jaw shut as tightly as you could manage, terrified of what might happen should you let a single drop of his load fall from you. His hand grazed the tender junction between your ass and thigh and you shuddered, whining when he wedged his knee back between your legs.

“I can feel the rage that’s burning deep inside you, my child,” he said, gathering your hands behind your back and holding them together at the wrist. He used his other hand to push down on the small of your back, in turn applying pressure to your soaked cunt with his knee; you cried out, the sound muffled through your closed lips.

“Do you ever wonder when your grip on your own sanity will spiral and you’ll finally snap?” You stiffened your jaw, praying you wouldn’t mistakenly let anything drip, the texture of his load seeming to become denser the longer it sat on your tongue. You couldn’t afford to be disgusted by the way it’d grown bitter and cold, coating the inside of your mouth with each minimal movement of your head.

“Answer me,” he growled, kneading your ass cheek hard enough that you felt his fingernails cutting into your delicate skin.

A pitiful “M-mhm,” was all you could muster.

“Such an angry girl,” he stated, voice dripping with faux-sympathy as he circled his fingertips over your thighs, preparing you for what was to come. “We can’t have that, now can we?”

Without warning he slapped your ass so hard that you nearly forgot about the cum inside your mouth, your body surging forward before he caught you and brought you back. He allowed you no time to recover from the blow, administering a second hit to the opposite side of your ass. You ground your teeth, eyes watering in both pain and focus as you fought to keep your mouth shut. He hit you again with even more sadistic aggression than the first two times, and inadvertently a tear dripped past your waterline and down your hot cheek.

He continued his ruthless assault on your ass, each smack harder than the last, until he landed a particularly intense one that you were sure would leave a red handprint on your skin. The force was almost enough to cause you to scream, and for a moment your lips parted, unable to bring one hand to stifle yourself given Langdon’s bruising hold on your wrists. In turn, a small stream of cum dribbled from the corner of your mouth and down your chin.

You hoped he hadn’t noticed, but realized you’d had no such luck when he released your wrists and instead grabbed a fistful of your hair. Yanking your head back, he lowered himself so that he could speak gruffly into your ear, tracing shapes over the irritated skin of your ass.

“Make a mess and I’ll have no choice but to extend your punishment,” he warned. He waited for you to nod in understanding before releasing your hair, straightening himself again and promptly making contact with the swollen expanse of your backside.

Taking deep breaths, you kept your eyes squeezed shut while Langdon beat down on you over and over; you probably would’ve enjoyed the spanking had it not been for the added responsibility of keeping a load of cum in your mouth, and you were beginning to fidget. His knee was still being held unyieldingly against your crotch, his slacks no doubt slick with your arousal, the friction sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body each time you twitched.

It was clear that the act of punishing you had gotten Langdon hard again, the rigid length of his cock pressing into your side as he hit you.

“This aroused you,” he said flatly, as though it had only been just now that he’d come to that conclusion. “But I shouldn’t be surprised. It doesn’t matter how you’re being touched, does it? You’re so needy that you’re just grateful you’re being touched at all.”

He let out a taunting laugh, running his fingers through the back of your knotted hair. “You may swallow now.”

You followed his instructions right away, gasping in relief once his load was all gone. The inside of your mouth still tasted like him, the vaguest hint of savory sweetness on your tastebuds. After spending a few seconds stroking your raw ass in steady, soothing motions, he grabbed your sides, manhandling you until you were back in a sitting position on the edge of his knees. For the second time during your encounter, he unbuckled his belt, shimmying his pants and boxers partly down his thighs and allowing his cock to spring free.

You knew better than to succumb to your desires, stomach churning with want at the mouthwatering sight of Langdon’s erection. All you wanted was to feel him- pump your fist along his veined shaft, wrap your lips around his warm skin, glide down his length until you were convinced you could feel him deep in your belly. He was right- you didn’t care how he chose to touch you. You just wanted to be touched.

“It’s time for you to repent for the sin of sloth, my child,” he said, massaging the tip of his cock with his thumb. “Spoiled little sluts like you are always far too accustomed to being given everything they want without ever having to lift a finger.”

He took hold of your upper thighs, pinching the supple curves while he guided you so that you were straddling him. Your breath caught in your throat; you were so close to what you wanted you could almost taste it.

“Is this what you desire?” he asked you, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist and moving your hand to his cock. Instinctively you grasped it, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you traced along the prominent veins adorning his shaft.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly. “God, yes.”

“You should know better than to use the lord’s name in vain in the presence of a priest,” he teased, cinnamon-scented breath hot on your neck. He ghosted his lips against your jugular, just barely placing an open-mouthed kiss against it, erupting your body into chills.

“Please,” you all but whimpered. You were subconsciously rolling your hips down on Langdon’s lap, desperate for any sort of release, and he reached forward to firmly hold you still.

“Work for it.” He placed his hands down on either side of him, lips just slightly curling upwards at the corners as he resigned to resting with his back against the pew.

You eased yourself forward, holding his cock upright by the base. Lifting yourself up, you grazed the flushed head along your slit and dipped it past your entrance, jaw already unhinging at the slight penetration. Heart pounding, you slid down onto him, tears springing to your eyes at the sheer intensity of his thickness stretching out your narrow walls.

“Oh fuck,” you grunted, eyes rolling back into your head when all at once he filled you to the hilt. Langdon remained motionless, but you could see the way he sucked his lower lip into his mouth at the feeling of your pussy enveloping him, and from the back of his throat came a low hiss.

“That’s it,” he said encouragingly, clearly unable to contain himself as he began kneading your tits in his hands. You squealed, just barely rocking yourself, still trying to get used to having something so massive inside of you. “I want you to fuck yourself on my cock. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you said, reaching over Langdon’s shoulders and gripping the edge of the pew with both hands to support yourself. Langdon repositioned his hands so that they cupped your abused ass, latching his mouth onto your sensitive nipple and swirling his tongue over the peak as you hoisted yourself up.

You brought your ass back down, losing your breath all over again as Langdon nibbled at your hardened areola. You were already beginning to work up a sweat, but still you continued to fuck yourself as you’d been instructed to, gaining momentum with each bounce of your hips.

The lewd sound of slapping skin rang throughout the empty room, melding with the strangled, depraved moans escaping your throats. Never before had you experienced such unadulterated ecstasy, and you weren’t sure that you ever would again. You were insatiable, slamming your hips down at an almost painful rhythm, knuckles turning white over the edge of the pew. The head of Langdon’s cock reached your cervix and you saw stars, unable to think of anything but your impending orgasm and the beautiful man beneath you.

“Fuck, oh fuck, Langdon, please-“ came your incoherent cries, burying your head in the crook of his neck to more closely listen to his own sounds of pleasure.  He was far less vocal than you were, being the composed man he was, but it was obvious that he, too, was coming undone by the way he was clutching your ass, forceful enough to leave bruises.

He growled, bucking his hips up to meet you, sending streams of tears flowing down your cheeks. It hurt, but you loved the pain, craved it, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to forget this for weeks.

“Fuck- I-I’m close,” you croaked, blinking away a bead of sweat that had fallen into your eye, heart hammering violently in your chest.

With that, he pushed you up off of him with such power that you stumbled back and fell onto your ass, his cock leaving you just as you were about to unravel. You sniffled pathetically, watching with glassy eyes as he rose to his feet, cock shining from the wetness of your cunt.

“Envy,” he said, glaring down at you, “Is the most laughable of the cardinal sins. Desiring what others have while ignoring your own blessings is truly humanity’s biggest flaw.”

He leaned down to thread his fingers through the hair at the top of your head, yanking you upright by the root so you were on your knees. “I know what you desire, pathetic girl. Release. Unfortunately for you, though, I’m the only one getting any of that today.”

He was taunting you, enjoying the distress evidently plastered across your face as he coerced open your jaw. Then he thrust his cock into your mouth, forcing you to taste your own arousal coating him, quickly deciding on a rapid, merciless pace to fuck your face with.

You couldn’t do much more than gag, taking shallow breaths through your nose as he pushed himself into your throat, using your hair as reigns to direct you.

You felt his cock twitch, and then your nose was pressed flush against the neatly trimmed blond curls surrounding his pelvis, one hand keeping you in place as warm spurts of cum shot down your throat. When he was sure that you’d consumed every last drop of his load, he let you go, tossing you onto your side like a rag doll.

Sobbing softly, you drew your knees to your chest, too humiliated to lock eyes with the stoic man who had reduced you to this. You were nothing more than a sniveling mess, defiled and debased, throat aching and lips trembling.

And yet still, somehow, your cunt was pulsing, screaming to be touched.

“Please, Langdon,” you mumbled in a daze, unsure if you’d even spoken at all once the words had left your mouth. “Please.”

He looked sinfully delicious from where he stood, towering above you as you lay sprawled across the floor, and with disappointment you watched him put away his dick. Using what little energy you had left, you tugged at the pristine hem of his pants, and he tilted his head inquisitively, a small smile creeping across his lips at your hopeless state.

“Please. I don’t know what you want me to do. Just— please.” You got onto your knees, nuzzling your cheek against his thigh like a cat begging to be fed.

“Please what, my child?” he asked, voice dripping with condescension. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, wiping away your partially-dried tears in the process. “Was this not enough for you? My cock filling your mouth, your cunt? You’re asking me for more, when I’ve given you so much already?”

You lowered your eyes, ashamed.

“How fitting, then, that your last sin to repent for is greed.”

He gripped your upper arm and jerked you to your feet, casting you haphazardly onto the pew. Langdon licked his lips, admiring the view of your naked body strewn across the wood, your chest splotchy and red.

“You want to cum? Is that what you want?” he demanded, sinking to his knees and prodding apart your thighs. When you didn’t reply, he gave your inner thigh a hard slap. “Answer me.”

“Oh god,” you sighed, melting at the tantalizing feeling of air blowing against your pussy when he spoke. “Y-yes.”

“Hm,” he hummed, entwining his arms with your thighs so he could keep them apart, “Very well, if that’s really what you want.”

He lunged forward unexpectedly, burying his face in your cunt, lapping vigorously between your folds and gathering your sticky secretion on his tongue. You moaned wildly, one hand tangling with his flaxen waves, unintentionally rolling your pelvis against his face. Drawing his tongue between your outer lips, he met your bud at the very top and enclosed his lips around it, adding just enough suction that you were overwhelmed. Writhing helplessly against him, you screamed out as he dropped one of your thighs and impaled you with two of his fingers.

He was cruel, the way he pounded his fingers inside of you unrelentingly, his mouth working fervently at your clit. The edges of your vision blurred, and it wasn’t long before your stomach was dropping, indicating your approaching climax.

“I- I’m- fuck!” He flicked your bud once more with the tip of his tongue, and then you were cumming, head thrown back in euphoria as your orgasm consumed you.

Your cunt vibrated as Langdon snickered against it, and it was then that you registered the truth of the matter: you were well and truly fucked. He had no intentions of letting you breathe, instead continuing to toy with your throbbing clit, a third finger pressing inside you with a filthy squelch.

“Shit-“ you sobbed, his tongue forming brisk shapes over your bundle of nerves, fingers effortlessly working you open. You had no choice but to take it; the pleasure coursing through you was so potent that it was becoming unbearable, but you were sure that had been his goal, to punish you with the very thing you’d been yearning for.

He turned his fingers inside you, angling them to hit the deepest spots that nobody else had ever been able to reach. He curled them, brushing against something spongey and sensitive, and for a moment all you could see was white as you came for a second time.

Just as you’d feared, Langdon didn’t stop; now he was sucking so ardently on your clit that you could hardly move, falling limply on the back of the pew, legs weak and numb under his iron grip. He continued to drive his fingers deep inside you, your body shaking feebly each time his fingertips grazed your cervix.

“Langdon- please, no m-more,” you pleaded, but he only laughed, spreading apart his fingers inside you to stretch you further. He retracted from your clit with a noisy pop, and you were about to breath a sigh of relief, until he removed his fingers from your core and used them to replace his lips.

“N-no, it’s too much, please!” You were crying now, struggling against his mouth as he moved his head downwards to lick stripes up between your folds, his thumb forming circles over your defenseless clit.

He sucked one of your outer lips into his mouth before delving deep into your entrance, starting to fuck you with his skillful tongue. You could feel that well-known dip in your belly yet again, and the muscles of your thighs tensed and contracted when he pinched your clit between two fingers.

The coil in your stomach snapped without warning, and then you were cumming; this time, however, was different- a wave of clear liquid shot out from your overstimulated cunt, soaking Langdon’s face and the front of his shirt.

He backed away, finally, lips pulling into an evil grin as he examined the mess you’d made. You were wide-eyed, shocked at your newfound ability, sweat-stained chest rising and falling. You were sure in other circumstances you’d have been embarrassed, but right now you were far too exhausted to care.

“You’re a messy little thing,” he laughed, wiping his mouth off with the back of his sleeve and licking his damp fingers clean. “So what do you think? Have you learned your lesson?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you said, shutting your legs protectively just in case he decided to go for one more round.

“Good.” He returned to his feet, looking just as pristine as he had when you’d first seen him, save for his gently tousled hair. “And what do you say, after I’ve gone through all this trouble to ensure your absolution?” He questioned you as though you were a petulant child, resting his hands on his hips.

“Thank you, sir,” you whispered hoarsely. Your body ached all over, from your ass to your cunt to your hips to your back. Langdon would be the only thing on your mind for the next week, that you were sure of.

“I’ll be expecting you back, though, so I can be sure you’re still on the right path.”

“Believe me, sir, I will be.”

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon smut #michael langdon one shot #michael langdon x reader #cody fern #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #ahs smut #ahs one shot #apocalypse #mine

[getitinbusan]

CHURCH

Jungkook Smut

A one night stand with the hottest guy in town becomes a religious experience. Pure SMUT!

You liked him, who in town didn’t? If legend was right, Jungkook's cock was as big as his ego and you wanted it. 

Feeling drunk and brave you caught him alone. He was standing waiting for drinks at the bar and you suddenly felt thirsty.

Sliding up beside him you wasted no time, “Take me home.”

He smiled and poked his tongue into his cheek, “Let’s go.”

His hands were under your skirt in the Uber, did he even know your name? Did you care?

The driver kept watching you in the rear view, you may as well put on a good show.

Pulling down your tank top, your breast popped out of the tight fabric.

“Fuck,” Jungkook whined grabbing your nipple with his teeth. He nibbled and sucked while slipping his fingers repeatedly inside you.

“I’ll shut the meter off if you make her cum in front of me,” the driver offered.

“Keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the fucking wheel asshole.”

Agrivated by the interuption he squeezed your tit while staring at the older man, “Drive faster and if you interrupt us again I’ll tank your rating." 

Pulling up to your place you broke away from his kiss to unlock the door. "Wait is this a fucking church?” He laughed at the prospect. 

“It used to be, want to see my confessional?”

"I want to see everything.“

He moved to lift your top off but you stopped him. Pulling him by the belt loops you led him to the stark wooden confession closet.

"You weren’t kidding, shit…” he ran his hand down the robe that was hanging beside it and raised his eyebrows at the white collar.

You gave him a devilish grin, "I like to roleplay."

You pushed him onto the hard bench, “If you sit here and tell me your sins I’ll get on my knees and do your penance"  

His jeans were tight around his thighs his cock hard and outlined by the taught denim, fuck if he wasn’t at least 7 inches.” Your knees hit the cold hard ground, the bruises would be worth it.

Dragging your bottom lip through your teeth you looked up at him and smiled, “Do you want to fuck my face?” He growled while unzipping himself, pulling his cock out like a trophy he stroked it.

Your mouth open, he rubbed his tip across your wet outstretched tongue and smiled. “Can you take it all or are we wasting my time?" 

"Does it look like I brought you here to play?”

You held him straight and stiff, lips sliding down his shaft till your nose was flush with his skin.

“Why’d you wait so long to introduce yourself?” he panted.

You let your lips gently slide down the protruding veins, “But I haven’t, you have no idea who the fuck I am.” You sucked one more time, “and doesn’t that make this feel even better Kookie?"

Baptizing his cock with your spit you let your hand work his length as you stared up at him.

“Fuck that feels good.”

You rubbed your hands in between his thighs, reaching to tug gently on his testicles while sinking onto him again. Holding him in your throat you moaned, goosebumps took over his skin and his head fell back.

“Fast or slow?” you sucked.

“Fast”

“Shallow or deep?” you sucked again. 

“Fuck…fucking deep”

“Hard or soft?” you swirled your tongue.

“Jesus Christ your such a good fucking cock tease.”

“You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain Jungkook, it’s a sin.” You smiled scraping your teeth gently over the tip of his head.

Leaning back against the wall you instructed him, “Stand up for me baby." 

Pullinh his pants off the rest of the way you guided his leg to rest bent, on the preacher’s seat.

Beckoning his hips closer you wrapped your mouth around his excited dick. Grabbing his ass you pulled him deep into your throat, his eyes were closed as he began to thrust on his own.

Faster, harder, deeper just how he wanted you, drool fell onto your shirt as he used your mouth to get himself off.

His testicles were tight, he was almost there. Pressing the delicate area around his perineum he let out a guttural moan and promptly blew his load down your throat. 

"I don’t know what the hell you just did but holy shit”…he was out of breath already. 

You stood up and undressed yourself greedy for more.

Wrapping his strong arms around you he picked you up, "Now where?" His cock already back from the dead poked at your core teasing it with every step.

“Over there, on the table,” he set you on top the wooden platform, “fuck me Jungkook, I need you in me”

You pulled his hair as he stuck his cock into your wetness, “Oh God, fuck me…hard...please." 

Each thrust hit deep and stretched you out, your pussy lips hugging him tightly oozed it’s milky white excitement. He bent his knees and angled upwards so the head of his cock rubbed perfectly over your g spot.

"You’re too fucking good at this, your reputation is well earned.” He smiled and rolled his hips into you catching friction on your clit.

“Lay back.”

Doing as you were told you laid naked over your table. He licked his fingers and rolled them over your pert nipples, “You gonna cum for me, I wanna taste how good I’ve made you feel." 

He gave a few more rolls into you, his name echoing throughout the hallowed space crying it out as you came.  

Laying there reeling you heard him drop to his knees. His soft tongue moved over your swollen cunt taking long languid licks and soft sucks of your overstimulated clit.

"So tasty.”

He gathered your arousal on his tongue and moved up to your mouth leaning over he French kissed it into you, "So dirty."

"Bed, please…” you grabbed his hand and took the lead.

He walked up the three stairs behind you, “Of course your beds on the altar, such a bad girl.”

He sat down on the edge pulling you to stand between his thighs. “So are you the devil, sent to tempt me?” he sucked your nipple between his lips.

“Is it working?”

You bit your lip and he sighed. Flipping you quickly you were bent over the bed as he rammed into your hole, his balls wildly slapping between your thighs.

You reached for your special satin pillow and shoved it under you, with every thrust your clit rubbed over it's soft fabric. Sweat rolled down his arm as he pulled out stroking himself, shooting ropes of cum over your ass you finished yourself moaning into the mattress.

He flopped down on the bed beside you, “That was fucking amazing.... listen, I’m not really the type of guy to stick around.." 

You laughed, "Did I ask to meet your fucking parents?" 

He rolled up onto his elbow and furrowed his brow trying to read your face. "So this was really just sex?" 

You shook your head, "No, it was just REALLY good sex." 

He smiled and hesitantly got up to go, but suddenly turned back around, "If I stay can I put on the collar and robe?"

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook #kookie #nochu #bts jungkook #guk #jeon jeong guk

[ajasgf]

this is awful. please don’t hate me. i know i can do better than this. i wrote this so long ago and never posted it but you asked so here it is. please don’t laugh. 

Sharon tugged her coat around her frame even tighter, shielding herself from the forest wind. On a moss covered tree stump to her left laid the holy book; her only downfall. She took the lighter from her pocket and set it ablaze, watched as the flames danced above the metal, twisting in the breeze. Her smile brighter than the small inferno.

Her hand reached for the book, turning pristine pages between her fingertips. She found her way to Leviticus and tore the paper from the binding jaggedly, throwing the book down hard in front of her. With a lighter poised right under the discarded pages, she watched the world burn.

Section by section, Sharon destroyed the book, ashes catching on her coat and in her hair. Never had she felt more divine. “If I cannot move Heaven,” she thought, “I will raise Hell.”

Her cackle echoed through the forest as she threw the ashes into the wind. Nothing left of a creator. For a moment, she let herself pretend that she was free.

_____________

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. The wanting for a girl has overcome me. Please, I beg you to make me forget soft thighs and painted lips. I have prayed and praised you before all else. I want to be perfect for you. I don’t know what more I can do. Are you listening?”

Tears poured down Alaska’s cheeks, harsh sobs wracking her body. Her attempts to be silent had long been abandoned. Already on her knees, she crumpled further into the floor of the cathedral, grasping her chest hard enough to feel the sharp indents of her crucifix against her palm.

Alaska could feel the moonlight flooding through the stained glass windows, bathing her in a soft glow. Her hair splayed out around her, messy blonde locks contrasting against dark tile. Her cries sounded like drums through the church, drowning out the tapping of high heels against cement.

Noticing a shoe in her line of vision, Alaska threw herself even further into the floor. “I’m sorry, Sister! I know I shouldn’t be out of bed but I had to come and confess! I had to,” she cried, voice breaking with the shaking of her body. She had been hit by the nuns once before and the bright red scar still stood out on her pale skin.

“Hey,” came a soft, feminine voice from behind her. Nothing like the harsh tone most of the nuns possessed. A hand touched her shoulder gently and Alaska raised into a kneel, peering through a curtain of tangled hair.

“Hey,” Alaska heard again. She turned to face the figure behind her, a girl adorning the tightest and shortest black dress Alaska had ever seen. It stopped high on her thighs, exposing creamy skin and seductively long legs. Alaska glanced down at the girl’s stiletto heels before meeting her eye.

The girl ran her hand along Alaska’s shoulder comfortingly, her sharp nails caressing the skin. Alaska couldn’t help but stare at her. Long black hair cascading down her back in loose ringlets, bright blue eyes and blood red lips. Alaska could have sworn that she, herself, was temptation.

The girl smiled down at her, continuing to run her hands over her shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked. Alaska stared, wide eyed.

“I’m not going to tell anyone that you were here. Neither of us are supposed to be out right now. Come with me. My room is right down the hall.” She extended her hand to Alaska, black nails glinting in the light.

Alaska stood with her help, wiping violently at the tears under her eyes. She felt blood in her palm from the sharpness of her crucifix. Before she could take a good look at the cut, she was pulled down the eerily quiet hallway of the cathedral.

A few doors down from the confessional were the unused dorms. Alaska couldn’t recall ever seeing anyone with a room in this place. All of the girls slept in a building across the campus in two lengthy hallways, connected to a bathroom and a small living area. As far as Alaska knew, no one had ever slept this close to the church.

Alaska felt herself being pulled into a room, the door shut softly behind her. She sat on the small bed, watching as the girl rummaged around in a bedside drawer for a second before turning to Alaska.

“I’m Sharon,” she said, taking Alaska’s hand in her own and inspecting the cut from the crucifix. She wiped away the excess blood with her finger, placing a bandage over the wound and securing it tightly. “That’s better. Those goddamn necklaces hurt.” Alaska gaped at her choice of words and Sharon smiled. “And who are you, princess?”

“My name’s Alaska,” she conceded, blushing lightly at the nickname. With her sitting and Sharon standing, her eyes landed on Sharon’s scantily covered breasts. Alaska tore her eyes away violently.

“What was a pretty girl like you doing crying in the confessional at night?” Sharon smirked, placing a clawed hand over her round hip.

“That’s none of your business!” Alaska exclaimed.

“Oh, I know it’s not. But how could I just ignore a beautiful girl looking so vulnerable?” Sharon’s smile was intoxicating as she sat down next to Alaska on the bed.

“I was confessing. I always come at night.” Alaska studied her hands in her lap, refusing to meet Sharon’s eye.

“Why is that?” Sharon placed her hand on Alaska’s thigh and Alaska jumped, shifting a few feet away.

“I can’t risk the other girls hearing. I need more forgiving than they do.”

Sharon crossed her legs at the ankles, turning to face Alaska while still respecting the space she had set between them. “And how are you supposed to forgive yourself when you place all of your faith in a man in the sky?”

Alaska scoffed. “I don’t need my own forgiveness! I need his before all else!”

Sharon’s lips crooked upwards in a sad sort of smile. “What if your God isn’t here, Alaska? What then?”

Alaska stood up abruptly, her Sunday school shoes slamming against the floor. “There’s no way! There is no way that He isn’t here! None of us would be here if he hadn’t died for us!” Alaska replied on reflex and reached for the door handle. “I’ll be leaving now. Goodnight!”

Before she could turn the handle, Sharon called after her softly. “Where will you go, darling? The dorms are all the way across the courtyard. You’ll have to walk past the nuns’ block.”

“I got here on my own, I can leave on my own! I know how to slip through the forest!”

“It’s nearing three am. You know the nuns get together nightly to pray. It’s safer to stay.”

Alaska scowled, hating the fact that Sharon was right. She sat back down on the bed, turning away from her. But she wasn’t hesitant to talk.

“How couldn’t you believe in a God? This world had to start somewhere. We didn’t just come from nothing. There is a creator and he loves us, Sharon. I know it.”

Sharon sighed. “If God created this world, how can he stand the sight of himself? If we are created in his image, can we really trust him? How is there someone who claims to be a beacon of hope when war and poverty affect so many? How can someone who truly loves His creations let six million people be violently tortured and slaughtered for their religion? How can He love us when He lets us be murdered? Did it hurt less after His first child was killed? Is He desensitized now? Does He even care? I don’t want a God. Give me something I can destroy.”

“Of course He cares,” Alaska cried. “The hardships He puts up through it to make us stronger! He’s making us more worthy of his love.”

“That doesn’t explain senseless killing, princess.” Sharon laid out across her bed on her back. “What about the old testament? You all just pretend like it doesn’t exist, like your God wasn’t angry or spiteful. You call Him a savior after he flooded the world. You call Him a hero after He killed more people than anyone else in the Bible ever did. And you say He is love when he condemns people like me to the pits of Hell. There’s no love in wanting to see your own children burn.”

“What do you mean, people like you?” Alaska questioned.

“Women who love women, Alaska. We’re monsters in his eyes.”

Alaska sits quietly, shocked into silence. She thinks about her own breakdown at the altar of Christ. She thinks about the countless days she has tried to force herself to forget wanting a girl’s lips on her own.

Sharon notices her lack of retaliation. “I heard you, Alaska. And I heard my mother when she called me the devil and sent me away. I heard the priest when he tried to beat it out of me. I heard the nuns when they locked me away. If that’s what God wants for me, he is the sickest of them all.”

Alaska continued to sit in silence. She curled her knees up to her chest, resting her head on top of them. Sharon took this as her resign, covering Alaska in a blanket from the bed and turning out the light to catch the two hours of sleep left before they had to be in class.

_____________

Alaska snapped awake, rubbing her eyes. She immediately noticed that she wasn’t in her own room. No, there was too much black to be anything like the pristine white room she shared with her dormmates. Her blurry vision locked on the girl standing in front of her. Sharon.

She rubbed Alaska’s shoulder, placing a clean uniform skirt and blouse down on the bed. “I woke you up awhile ago, but you went back to sleep. You were too cute to disturb and you looked like you needed rest. Class starts soon. You can take my uniform.” Alaska was about to ask what Sharon would do for clothing until she eyed the short latex dress she was wearing.

Sharon noticed her perplexed look and laughed. “I don’t go to your kind of classes, Lasky. I get to sit in a room with a priest for hours while he drones on about my need to repent. He despises me as it is. This dress isn’t going to hurt any more than my very lesbian presence does.”

Alaska blinked a few times, her mind catching on the nickname. Lasky.

Sharon turned to slide into her plumb heels, dabbing at her crimson lips with the pad of her finger. She smiled down at Alaska. “Get changed. Wouldn’t want the good girl to be late for morning prayer.”

Alaska blushed, picking up the clothes next to her on the bed. She eyed Sharon wearily, looking from the skirt and blouse to her own body.

“I won’t look. Contrary to popular belief, sapphic women aren’t the predators they try to make you think we are. No matter how pretty you are, that’s disrespectful and I’m not going to treat you like a piece of meat. Now, get dressed.” Sharon faced away from Alaska, adjusting her dress in the mirror and running her fingers along the crystals that lay at the bottom.

“Okay,” Alaska replied meekly once she had finished and Sharon turned.

“I’ve never seen anyone make a church school uniform look cute,” Sharon flirted. Alaska blushed heavily and wrapped her fingers around the doorknob.

“Wait!” Sharon called. “Can I see you again? No tears this time.”

Alaska hesitated at the door, shocked into thought. She nodded quickly and rushed out into the hall.

Goddamn pretty Christian girls, Sharon thought.

_____________

In class, the nuns spoke of homosexuality. The entire week had been dedicated to Leviticus and Alaska found herself sitting uneasily, trying to push away thoughts of dark hair and a sinfully tight dress.

What if she had wanted Sharon to watch her as she changed that morning? How big of a sin was it to want to see her, too? Alaska wanted to touch her. Wanted to feel those long, long legs wrapped around her head. She could feel a slight dampening between her legs and it petrefied her. She needed to get out.

“Miss Thunder!” The nun roared. “What could possibly be so important that you are not being attentive to my lecture?”

“Nothing, Sister. Nothing is more important. I just think I may be getting ill.” Alaska lied. She needed to get away before someone noticed the slight squeezing of her thighs.

“Very well. You are excused to your dorm and I fully expect you to read over the passage tonight and be here tomorrow morning.”

“Of course, Sister. Thank you, Sister.” Alaska rose from her seat in a hurry, clutching her Bible tight to her chest and exiting the room.

_____________

Alaska avoided her dorm. She loved the six other girls she shared with, but she needed to be alone. She found herself in the forest.

Reaching out to brush her fingertips against each tree, Alaska wandered deep into the woods, lost in thought. Was God listening? How could she still be fantasizing about her hand in the hand of another girl when she had been begging on her knees for so long? Why could she hardly resist the urge to touch Sharon when she had fasted, had prayed? Was He out there? Did He want her to feel like this?

It was Katya who found her.

“Oh! Alaska!” her dormmate cried happily.

“What are you doing here?” Alaska asked after turning to face the thick Russian voice behind her. Alaska liked Katya most of all. She didn’t speak the best English, but it was endearing to Alaska. Broken syllables and forgotten words.

“This is where I kiss Trixie! Secret!” Katya looked breathtakingly happy as she mimed the zipping of her lips.

Alaska’s face cracked. So, the rumors were true. She shook her head lightly to clear it.

“Aren’t you scared?” Alaska asked meekly.

“No,” Katya smiled. “Trixie is smart. We don’t get caught. We are hiding. Sometimes, I see witchy girl here but she just smile at us. She is only one.”

Witchy girl. Sharon.

“You aren’t afraid of Hell?”

“Not at all! I don’t believe your God. He can’t hurt me if he is not real.” Katya looked confused as to why Alaska was asking.

“Then why are you here? You’re aware that this is a Catholic school, right?”

“Because parents sent me here. They do not think like I do.”

“Does it bother you? The preaching?” Alaska questioned.

“No, because I know they are wrong. I love who I love. In Russia, they do this, too. But no one tell me what to do. Girls are soft, pretty. I like them.” Katya beamed.

Alaska cleared a spot on the ground of leaves and sat down. “How did you know?” She asked.

“That I don’t believe God?”

“No, that you liked girls?” Alaska kept her gaze locked on the forest floor.

“Oh, easy!” Katya exclaimed, sitting down next to her. “Girls are nice! Boys’ mouths are rough. They take, don’t give. Girls care about you, too! They kiss you and play with hair and their smiles are pretty! Trixie has pretty smile. And she cares for me, too! So I care for her!”

“Do you love her?”

“Yes. She is good to me. We are good to each other.” Katya looked up at the sky, blissfully lost in thoughts of Trixie.

Alaska picked at her nails, worn down from years of anxious biting. “Will she be here?”

“Soon. We come everyday for few hours before night to talk and read and kiss. You want us to find somewhere new?” Katya moved to sit closer to Alaska.

“No, this is place is yours. I just came to think.” Alaska looked down as Katya took her hand in her own.

“Alaska, you need help? You like girls, too? It can be scary here.”

Alaska tore her hand away like Katya had burned her. She stood quickly, only stopping when she saw the hurt in Katya’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know, Kat. I don’t know.”

“That okay, Alaska.” Katya got to her feet. “You going home? You like me to walk you?”

“No, that’s fine. Stay here and wait for Trixie. I’m going to go try to rest for awhile. Thank you.”

Alaska tensed slightly as Katya hugged her before relaxing into the embrace. “It okay. They don’t tell you what to do.”

“Thank you.” Alaska wiped at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Goodnight, Kat.”

“Goodnight, Alaska.” Katya waved as Alaska walked away.

_____________

Alaska hadn’t left her room in four days. Her thoughts were consumed by Sharon and the shame that came along with it left her sick.

#alaska is literally the weakest little bitch in this #i'm so sorry #i know a girl exactly like this i just based it off of her #i have other fics that also aren't good and also aren't finished