#(( your religion corruption kink woman. ))

[gctchell]

None of her thoughts are in the bible, though they partially involve it.

[pearlcigs]

⋆ make a woman out of me

christian!virgin!reader x ellie williams

summary ⋆ you swore to yourself you only longed for ellie in a platonic way, but as you get older you seem to realize just how pretty she really is.

warnings ⋆ 2.95k ⋆ smut, i might get cancelled 🤷‍♀️, reader (non penetrative) virginity loss, religious themes, ellie is 19, reader is 18, pastor's daughter!reader, mentions of homophobia, alludes to reader's parents being homophobic, ellie smokes weed, pet names (pretty girl, babe, honey, baby, good girl), cursing, first kiss, corruption, corruption kink, oral (r recieving)

time moved slowly within the parameters of jackson. the same familiar faces, day in and day out. though, it was comforting living in such a community. the horrors of the world beyond the walls that stood tall was something you rarely wanted to think about. it made you sick to your stomach to think of your friends, loved ones, even people you weren't particularly close with, outside of the safe walls, being face to face with whatever monsters marred the unhabitual world.

your parents were strict with religion, your father being the only self acclaimed paster that jackson has ever had to offer. there was never a time you could remember, even before finding refuge in the cozy town, where your parents weren't devout. vivid memories of your mother's fingers gliding over the cross necklace she wore around her neck when you would get in trouble. disappointed sighs and signs of the cross, begging the lord above for forgiveness, explaining to the sky you were too young to know what you've done was a sin.

the bible was followed closely in your home, and you obliged without caution. you prayed, attended your father's mass sessions in the tiny chapel just down the road where he preached the bible, wore the holy cross around your neck to show your devotion, you've read the old torn and withered bible you were so lucky to find front to back. religion was all you've ever known and you had found no reason to ever question the man who hung on your wooden walls, hanging from a cross with his hands and feed nailed to it like an animal. that was, until ellie.

"come on, don't you wanna jus' see what it feels like?" ellie teased, waving the joint in front of your face like a taunt. "no thank you." you replied, sitting at the foot of her bed, legs crossed, eyes wandering around her room. when ellie first came to jackson you were infatuated with her, dwindling it down to pure want but only of friendship. "good girl, that's what you say when someone offers you this shit." ellie moves the weed away from your face, inhaling it and then turning away to exhale the smoke away from you.

it started with just friendly smiles, offering to show her around and help her get to know everyone. she was wary of you. honestly, afraid of your friendly demeanor. people on the outside of the jackson walls were cruel and vicious, she thought, with no doubt in her mind, you were being friendly to lure her into some kind of trap. she danced around you with caution, keeping her distance but also decidingly giving you a chance. she quickly became fond of you, your personality, your looks. everything about you appealed to ellie and something about that made you proud, even more eager to befriend her.

the words 'good girl' ring from her mouth and you're not sure how to respond. was there even a proper response to your best friend calling you that? a simple nod was all you could come up with. watching her lips intently as she blew the smoke out of her lungs. your fingers came up to your neck, fiddling with the cross necklace around your neck, a habit passed down from your mother. ellie never paid much attention to your shy outlook on life. you were reserved and a part of her liked that she had so much of you to herself.

it wasn't until you were 17 that you finally came to terms with the fact that your infatuation was more than just a yearning to be her friend. tears of guilt streaming down your face in the confessional at the shoddy chapel, divider between you and the young volunteer who was ready to beg jesus to abolish your sins. "i'm a girl... and i like another girl." you sniffled, lowering the pitch of your voice instinctively so he wouldn't see past your anonymity. ache in your heart when silence was returned, until soft mutterings of a prayer, asking jesus to forgive your tainted heart.

ellie extended her arms behind her head, a small stretch that gave you big feelings. her shirt rode up, exposing the small of her stomach. you swallowed harshly, wondering why god would tempt you with something like this. a soft sigh emits from ellie's lips, flicking the almost finished joint into a nearby makeshift ashtray. another soft sigh falling from her perfect lips. intent eyes trying to be secretive of the no less then unholy thoughts that you were being tempted with.

ellie was put off at first by your fervent religion. her experiences were tainted, never having a good visual of what a healthy relationship with god looked like. she was unsure if you were going to try and convert her into some pious worshipper. you weren't secretive of your religion and that much was enough to make ellie suspicious. with time she realized you were different from the other religious people she's met. only bringing up your religion or anything to do with it when you were directly asked or if it was really important to speak about.

"whatchu lookin' at, pretty girl?" she chuckled as she noticed the way your eyes locked onto her, like if you looked away she'd be gone. it wasn't unusual for ellie to be flirty or to make casual remarks about how pretty you were. still, every time she did your cheeks were adorned in a rosy color. "just you, i guess. i dunno..." you answered back quickly, hoping that answer was enough to satisfy her eager curiosity. "yeah? just me? got something you wanna say to me?" she was just joking around, trying to get you riled up and flustered but you did have things you wanted to say to her.

"no." you answered, though you were sure she wasn't expecting an actual response. "no? yikes, babe, i'm hurt, thought we had somethin' real here." she smiled and you felt the butterflies in your stomach become tongue tied. one thing you loved about ellie above all things was her smile, how the skin around her eyes scrunched up just the tiniest bit, the apples of her cheeks becoming more prominent. everything about her smile made your head spin.

"els, i like you." the words slip out of your mouth before you could even process what was going on. her smile that coerced you to confess to her in the first place falters. "i'm sorry?" she questions, unsure if you meant what she thought you did. you had never said anything that led ellie to believe you were homophobic or that you thought all gay people were sinners like most of the older people who were religious in jackson did. but still she was careful to keep her sexuality from you, strongly assured you would take after your parents' stance on homosexuality.

"i... i don't know why i said that." you say, truthfully. mouth slightly agape and eyes widened with shock that you'd just outed yourself after years of trying to force down your feelings. there was a silence between the two of you. silence wasn't uncommon around each other, sometimes the both of you preferring to spend your time together quietly as a way to unwind after a treacherous day. but this silence was different than those times. ellies breath was caught in her throat, words jumbled on her tongue.

she only began reacting when she saw the panic on your face, followed by your eyes becoming glassy. "hey, hey. don't cry. it's okay." she comforted, sitting up and placing a hand on your knee. she wasn't good at comforting people, you were well aware of that. "i didn't mean to.." you admitted, voice timid and quiet, still uncertain to how she would react. "hey, it's okay, honey." the term of endearment sliding off her tongue like she was meant to call you that for the rest of your lives.

"i'm not mad." ellie affirms, her tone soft, knowing how afraid of other people's anger you are. another flash of silence emerges, just you and ellie staring at each other. neither of you knowing what to say. she pitied you, seeing how much you resented yourself. your bottom lip slotted between your teeth, biting hard enough to potentially draw blood. "don't do that..." she mutters, gently running her thumb over your partially chapped lips, pulling your bottom lip out of your teeth's grasp.

your breath hitches, a small shudder traveling up your spine. your eyes locked on hers, your heart beating loud enough for the whole world to hear. ellie's eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to your eyes. "i've liked you for a while." you admit, knowing there was no going back at this point. "oh, yeah?" her voice was low, some would even describe as seductive. her thumb still lingering on your bottom lip. "yeah." you whisper back, your eyes now flickering down to her lips.

ellie's hand moves to your jaw. her eyes flicking down to your lips one last time before she leans down and presses her lips against yours. her lips are soft, just like you had imagined. she seems skilled, like she knew what she was doing and what the end goal was. a small smile forming on her face as she realizes you have no idea what you're doing. “like this.” she mumbles against your lips acutely aware how clueless you were when it came to romance.

you follow her lead, doing your best to follow her lead. her free hand finding your waist, squeezing gently. you pull away, panting faintly. "i don't know.." you mumble, trailing off as ellie puts her lips back to yours. the hand that was on your jaw roaming to the back of your head, fingers getting tangled in your hair. "i know." ellie responds moments later, her lips brushing against your with each syllable. you couldn't comprehend what was happening, your mind going blank with ellie's lips on yours. she adored the way you looked at her. looking at her like you needed her.

she gently lays you back, grabbing the first pillow she could find and settling it under your head so you were comfortable. her thighs either side of your body, her body weight on top of you, giving you a cozy feeling you'd never experienced before. "you don't even know how long i've been wantin' to kiss your pretty lips..." she whispers, her bangs hanging in front of her face. you bring your hand up to her face, nervously tucking the hair behind her ear. "god, you're so fuckin'..." she stops, just taking a second to admire how alluring you looked under her.

her lips dip down to your neck, slowly biting and sucking on the skin. your breath hitches, a small whine pushing past your swollen lips. ellie groans against the skin of your neck. "make more of those pretty noises f'r me." she mumbles, hips rolling over yours, another whine spilling from you at the pleasurable feeling. ellie's kisses move away from your neck, down your body. trailing down your collarbone to your clothed chest to your stomach. her lips stop, hovering right above your pussy.

your heart was beating out of your chest, you back arching a little in anticipation. "how bad do you wan' it? tell me, baby. tell me how much you wan' me." she was totally and utterly obsessed with you, her mind becoming drunk by the thought of you— the mere sight of you. "p-please, els..." you mumbled, voice timid from embarrassment. it was partially expected though, you'd never done anything like this. "i want you..." it was simple but effective, making ellie go feral for you. "fuck—"

she lowers her lips to your pussy, kissing over the fabric of your shorts. watching her through hooded eyes, your pussy throbbing from her touch. "gonna eat this pussy s'good. show you what you've been missin' out on." she groans, the fabric of your shorts dampening as she trails her tongue over the sensitive area. ellie surprised herself, shocked that she was able to dirty talk to you so easily like this. your hips were writhing against the bed, more eager than you've ever been in your entire life. you felt dirty for wanting this, knowing that god was watching you become a total slut for ellie.

ellie's fingers hooked on your shorts, pulling them down slow as slow could be, chuckling as you whined. "ellie. ellie, please." you muttered, begging for her to hurry up. ellie's eyes rolled back, the sound of you begging getting her more aroused than she's ever been. no one's ever made her feel like this before. she was done with the teasing, if not for your sake but for hers. she pulled your shorts and underwear off swiftly, discarding them somewhere to find later.

her eyes locked on your bare pussy, fighting back a moan at the sight. "you've got me so fucked up, babe." she muttered, kissing around your thighs first. you were nervous, breath shallow and quick paced, hungry for ellie but embarrassed nevertheless. your voice was caught in your throat, blinking quickly as you watched ellie kiss all over your thighs. ellie looked up at you and you were able to see that she was just as nervous as you. "is this okay? you can tell me to stop." she sounded sincere, pushing aside her pure need to get your consent.

you nodded, not trusting your voice. "use your words like the good girl you are, yeah?" she's longing to just taste your glistening cunt. "yes— yes, els. 't's okay..." she doesn't waste another second after hearing your shaky voice, tongue urgently dipping between your wet folds. you moan at the contact, feeling like you were on cloud 9. ellie's tongue presses flat against your clit, your hand clamping over your mouth. moans being muffled as ellie savors the sweet noises your dripping cunt was making.

ellie wasn't fond of you muffling your perfect little sounds, wanting to hear just how good she could make you feel. "let me hear you. don't make me punish you.." you don't move your hand away from your sinful mouth. your free hand finds ellie's, interlocking your fingers which she gladly accepts. "c'mon, baby. let me hear you." she encourages once more, lips moving against you with ease, mixture of your wetness and her spit. but to her dismay, you still ignored her commands. her free hand sliding your shirt up your body to expose your breasts, you were never one to wear a bra. her hand kneading the supple flesh, thumb running over your nipple.

she licks a strip from your entrance to your clit, making your thighs shake with immense pleasure. "wanna be a brat?" she mumbles into your pussy, looking up at you through her eyelashes, staring you down as her tongue circles your clit. "what is it they make you do in confession? hail mary's? 5 of 'em, now. or i stop." she smirks, watching the look in your eye become more flustered by her request. you slowly move your hand away from your mouth, not wanting this pleasure to ever stop.

"h-hail mary, full of grace—" you cut yourself off with a moan, eyes squeezing shut as you lift your hips, pushing your cunt further into ellie's face. "get to ruin this pretty pussy." ellie groans. "keep goin'. don't stop." she aids you to continue, feeling your cunt flutter around her tongue. "the lord is with— is with thee..." you continue, stuttering through the words. "good girl, keep goin' f'r me. let me hear you." she continues to egg you on, talking into your pussy. her own moans mixing in with the sound of yours.

"blessed art thou— ellie, please..." you whine, squeezing her hand and throwing your head back into the pillow, back arching off the bed. "c'mon, pretty girl. blessed art thou..." you toes curl at her words and the feeling of her tongue teasing your entrance. "—amongst... amongst women..." you trail off, mind becoming to hazy to even remember the words to the prayer you've prayed everyday since you could talk. ellie smirked into your cunt, relishing in the feeling of being able to turn your mind into mush, being the only one able to turn your mind into mush.

your moans and whines became breathier and higher pitched with each flick of her tongue. your stomach twisting in an unfamiliar knot. "ah, ah, ellie—" your thighs trying to clench together and push her head away, the feeling becoming too much. "you're gonna cum, baby?" she spreads your legs wider, her only greedy want is to make pleasure wash over you. "ellie! ellie! ellie!" you chant her name, eyes rolling back as the pleasurable wave of your orgasm finally hits you, moans loud and unfiltered.

"there we go... yeah, nice an' easy. fuck." she mutters, tongue fucking you through your high until your writhing and pushing her off of you. her lips relocating to your thighs and slowly working their way up to your pelvic bone, soft kisses against your skin. "tasted so good, baby. best pussy i've ever had." she praises, eager to show you just how much you pleasured her even though you technically didn't make her cum. "els..." you whined, face flushed a rosy red. "yeah, baby. 'm right here." she leaves a trail of kisses up your body as she reaches your lips, leaving a soft peck to let you know she was here. "does this mean you like me too...?" you asked innocently. "are you serious?"

another christian!reader x ellie williams fic!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

König x Nun!Reader

Word count: 12.5 k Tags/warnings: 18+ pure FLUFF & SMUT & COMFORT

First time/loss of virginity, implied consent, teasing, corruption kink, fingering, cunnilingus, thighing/intercrural sex, protected p in v. Silly, sweet, kind of innocent, kind of naughty. Romance, forbidden love trope, love as a religion, happy ending. 

Part 3/3

Everytime König enters your life, you start to lie.

You lie about where you’re going and where you’ve been, you lie about who you see and what you do. People think you’ve helped some foreign man to hospital, that you were away last night to make sure he got safely into treatment. You told them he was some poor fellow who got stabbed and robbed on the street and that you called the ambulance from his phone and that the police needed to see you today for further questioning. 

You lie and lie and lie, and then slip out to see König, who’s hopefully alive and still in the same place you left him last night.

When you enter the old, half-demolished building now serving as a B&B, the same old man from last night looks up with wary eyes. He immediately relaxes back to reading his paper when he sees you’re only the harmless, grey nun from last night. 

You sneak upstairs without exchanging a word with him and go straight to König’s door. Giving it a quick knock and uttering, “It’s me,” you half expect to get shot through the wooden entrance. But there only comes a happy “Come in” from behind the door, and you notice König hasn’t even locked the damn thing. Is he expecting you, or is he simply that confident with his gunslinger skills?

Turns out he’s probably both, because you freeze right there on the doorstep when you step in.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers this time, and your eyes fly straight back to his eyes after being glued to the prominent package between his legs for far too long. And good God, the man’s got some muscles on those legs... 

“Hallo, Kätzchen,” he greets, giving you an obnoxiously flirty smile upon noticing how flustered you look.

“You… You shouldn’t be up yet,” you quickly turn to close the door. 

“I have to use the bathroom, no?”

He looks at you from across the room, so innocent and sweet and, at the same time, so mischievous that you don’t know what to do or where to look. He’s gotten rid of the hood, but there are traces of black paint around his eyes, it still clings to his brows, making him look like someone who just came home from a carnival. You want to go to him and wipe it away and tell him that he missed a spot and that he’s clumsier than you thought, but you can’t... You can only fall deeper into your awkward shyness as he raises his brows. 

He turns what appears to be the shreds of his old shirt in his hands, then dumps it into the bin, suddenly a little nervous too. There are moments when you have suspected that König might suffer from social anxiety or shyness around people, but he covers it very well. Around you, the man seems to be at ease, flirts and jokes with you often and is very straightforward with his intentions.

You wonder if he likes you so much simply because you are unattainable. 

Maybe you represent some girl next door to him, perhaps you remind him of his first love. Perhaps you happen to be something so sweet, innocent, and unreachable that he feels strong and safe in your company. Perhaps holding hands and trading a few passionate kisses feels safer than going after a real relationship… Perhaps this Will they, won’t they situation is enough excitement for him, too.

Or perhaps König has been so wounded by women that he prefers to be around a frigid – or at least very virginal – nun rather than face the dangers of approaching a real, attainable woman.

But flaunting himself like this in front of you is yet another clear sign that he, at the very least, loves to tease you to death. He looks like he’s in far better condition than yesterday, and starts to peel off the bandage like it’s just a scratch he suffered. 

“Let me help you with that,” you rush to him, silently relieved when he lets you clean the wound and change the bandage. He even lays himself down to be treated by you and smiles with his signature grin as you fuss around him.

“Not a word,” you risk a glance his way while gently cleaning the wound.

“Not a word,” he promises with a cheeky smile, and gets another erection. 

It’s even worse when he’s wearing nothing but his underwear... You can see the bulge stretching the fabric, forming a tight, thick curve right next to you as you try to focus on your task.

“Perhaps you should put some clothes on,” you offer while trying to concentrate on examining the skin for any signs of irritation.

“Eh. They’re dirty.”

“I can go and ask if they have a laundry room here,” you propose. “I could wash them for you. Do you need a new shirt?”

Ugh, what a stupid question...

“Why not,” he shrugs. “If the view is unpleasant...”

“Behave yourself now,” you say with a soft smile. “XL…?”

“At least.”

He must be getting better if he’s behaving like this... The man’s insufferable enough when he’s uninjured, but now that he’s getting pampered, he’s somehow even worse. You bite your lip as he dares to moan on the bed, too. You’ve brought him food last night, and he’s being treated carefully and touched softly, he’s getting his clothes washed for him, he’s got his own personal nun worrying about him 24/7. Of course he’s moaning.

And you’re in danger because you just love to pamper him. It feels more meaningful to treat his wounds and run on errands than do the eternal dishes at the convent. You feel like you’re saving a life here... Like someone actually needs you, depends on you. You feel so wanted, and König seems to fully agree with you.

“I could live the rest of my life like this,” he purrs on the bed as you gently put a fresh bandage in place.

“I have no doubt about that.”

“Are you really going to get me a new shirt…?” He asks with bright puppy eyes – the faked innocence is so blatant you want to throw a pillow over that face.

“If you give me some money to buy one, then yes.”

“You can have as much as you want. Buy yourself something nice while you’re at it, hmm? As a reward.”

“I don’t do this for the sake of rewards.”

“I know... But you could buy yourself anything you want. A new dress, new jeans, lingerie… Give me a little fashion show when you get back?”

König knows you’re probably the last woman on earth who’s interested in shopping sprees, let alone new jeans or sexy lingerie. Your only summer dress resides at your parent’s house as a relic from the past, a token from your life before sisterhood. But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t want to see his face when you do a little twirl before his bed, wearing nothing but a laced bra and some matching strings… 

“Give you a fashion show?” you laugh. “When did thanking me turn into you profiting from it?”

“I’m just saying... If you need new underwear, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

You snort and shake your head slowly. “You’re far too cheeky when you’re injured. I truly hope you get better soon.” 

“I don’t,” he crosses his arms behind his head, looking perfectly pleased with himself while lying there in nothing but his underwear. “And neither do you.”

“Excuse me? Of course I do…!”

“No, I don’t think so. You like to take care of people, I can see it. You’d make a good field medic.”

“I doubt that.”

“You remain calm under pressure,” he says. “And you take good care of me.”

“That’s only because you were silly enough to get shot.”

“...And I would do it again if it leads to this,” he grins.

“Cheeky,” you shake your head reprimandingly. “Far too cheeky.”

“You are an angel,” he says gently. “And I mean that.”

You rise to put the trash in the bin, then look back at him. “No, I’m not. I’m just some woman you bumped into in the street.”

“That’s exactly what an angel would say.”

You sigh: it’s useless with König, hopeless, like trying to wrestle with God. No matter what you say or do, he always turns it against you in the sweetest possible way. It’s like he's stripping away pieces of your armour – you fear nothing will be left before this visit is done.

“Did you eat any of the food I brought you…? You need to eat something, and drink a lot of water–” You take a look at the side table, noticing he has already eaten everything you got him last night. “Gosh. You must be getting better if you have an appetite like this...”

König only laughs on the bed. “I’m sorry, Kätzchen, but that was just a snack.”

You brought him three sandwiches, at least a dozen apples and a bag of walnuts, but they’re all gone. Of course a soldier of his size eats like a horse, and he needs all the food he can get, having gone through the wringer last night.

“I’d kill for a Schnitzel and a tall beer,” he sighs dreamily on the bed, no doubt knowing you well enough to tell that you’ll get him anything he wants if he only plays this wounded soldier role right. 

You begin to doubt if his injuries were ever that serious. It just looked bad last night because he was so tired, and there was blood everywhere... With a bleak blink, you realize most of the blood you cleaned off of him last night probably wasn’t his own.

He’s in a cheery mood now, looking at you hopefully from the bed, arms crossed behind him, legs out long, wearing nothing but those stupid black boxers and that goshdarned, sweet smile.

“Do you think you could get me one of those big Schnitzels somewhere…? You know, the really big ones.”

“Maybe,” you cross your arms over your chest, and furrow your brow when he visibly perks up on the bed a little. “I said maybe. We’ll see. And you’ll get water instead of beer.”

“Shame.”

“You don’t need alcohol right now. Plus I can’t just go and buy beer looking like this.”

He smiles. The man’s all smiles today… Probably because of all the blood loss. Or maybe because you’re the girl next door who’s going to bring him his favourite food. 

“Of course not,” he says, with hazy love in his eyes. “I am already forever in your debt, Kätzchen.”

…

It’s not a sin to take a nap together.

That’s what you tell yourself as you curl next to König after you bring him his Schnitzel, shirt, and a few bottles of sparkling water. 

“There’s plenty of room for both. Come on, I won’t bite,” he shifts on the bed and extends his hand to invite you in. 

You lay yourself down next to him and tell yourself it’s just to please a recovering man. There’s nothing sexual about it, so why not?

Still, your body is singing by the time he takes your hand in his own, wrapping both your arms around your middle like you’re an established couple about to get some sleep together.

Raindrops are slowly tapping on the window, and you tell yourself you’re just resting your eyes a bit as your lids drift closed. König is already snoring behind you, with another erection pressed against your back. You’re not intimidated by it: it only feels natural to cuddle him like this. The rain turns into a languid rap, and you know you won’t be leaving this building in a while. With the contentment of a cat who’s finally warm and safe, you fall into a deep sleep.

You stir after an hour or two, waking up to such a pleasant, safe feeling you don’t quite remember when you’ve ever felt this good. König has buried his face in your neck, somewhere in the folds of your coif, probably in an attempt to reach some skin. He pulls you closer when you try to shift, rumbling contently behind you.

“Sleep well…?”

“Mm...”

The moment is so lazy and cosy you don’t want to get up. A large, warm hand flexes against your stomach as König buries his face deeper under the veil. He reaches the skin of your neck and inhales deeply, making all the tiny hairs across your body shoot up. 

You let him kiss you there, and he does it with reverence, like he’s kissing a holy idol. It’s chaste enough but makes you go taut in his hold – in fact, you have to use all your willpower not to moan out loud.

“I think I need to go now,” you whisper, doing absolutely nothing to act on that threat.

“Mm–hm,” he agrees while keeping your body hugged tight against him. 

“König… Really, I need to get back...”

“Ja... Ok,” he mutters, hand traveling up the thick black cotton of your habit. It meets your breast and cups it without shame. You feel the hot, hard length twitching against your back, making leaving this bed less and less tantalizing.

You whine when he starts to fully paw your breast, thrusting his hips up and against your butt. The kiss turns into a love bite right after as he starts to use teeth on your neck – your back arches on instinct, a broken sigh slipping through your lips. He can't be serious... A hickey-covered neck is the last souvenir you want to bring back from this nap.

“You said you wouldn’t bite,” you whimper, but he just laughs softly. The sound is thick and breathless, cinders and smoke so close to your ear that you’re shamefully wet even without his other… advances.

The afternoon is mellow, it has stopped raining, but you wish you could stay on this spun sugar bed with him forever. You know what you want already; in your heart, you’ve made a giant decision, but the overwhelming realisation is too much to bear. 

And so you rip yourself away from his arms and flee once again. He’s the devil himself, smiling on the bed with another proud erection tenting his pants. Rushing back to the convent, adjusting your veil as you go, your mind is plagued with the image of König reaching a hand down those boxers and enjoying a long, drowsy masturbation session while you have to hurry home for Mass.

Christ… 

It only took 24 hours to make you melt in his arms like snow.

And the “naps” become a habit as you haul him food or clothes, new from the store or clean and warm from the drier. You bring him a fresh pair of boxers, too, since he only had the clothes on his back when he was shot. He’s ever so grateful for his saving angel, who he gets to cuddle “as a reward”. You don’t quite know if it's a reward for you or him.

Sometimes, he’s cleaning his gun or doing wall pushups when you arrive, indicating that he’s still recovering but getting better every day – and more restless by the minute. At some point, you’re not even napping anymore; you only lay down with him to snuggle and make out, feeling like a shy teen when you only let him touch you over your clothes. His hands explore you literally everywhere except between your legs because that’s when you gently guide his eager paws away.

You wonder if this is what drugs feel like to some people. You’re fully in the present moment, swimming in a soft bliss, calm and whole and sweet and good. Everything in the world is just as it should be.

“If you ever come to Austria, I will take you to the mountains,” König mumbles nonsense into your hair, freed one day from the confines of your veil and coif. It’s a surrender in every meaning of the word – your clothes are the last literal protection you have against his attempts to worship you.

“Perhaps we’ll stay there... Forget all this,” he chatters lazily, clearly in the same sweet bubble as you. “Ja, that sounds good… I’ll keep you there until you come to your senses.”

“That sounds like a kidnapping scenario,” you comment with a soft smile on your lips.

“Ah. My plan is ruined.” 

You crane your head to look at him. “No... Not ruined.” 

“No?”

“Just exposed.”

You figure it was only a matter of time before this snuggle turned into another make out session. This time, the shared kiss is purposeful, full of presence and slow need. The anxiety is gone, the rights and wrongs of this world tucked somewhere far away.

“We need to stop doing this,” you whisper into his mouth, brain turning into mush from the way he holds you so gently.

“Why…? It feels nice…”

You can’t argue with that, and when his hands start to travel, you do nothing to stop them. 

He slides a palm down your curves, pulls you closer by the waist, cups your butt when you don’t seem to protest. Usually, this sort of behaviour has been a little too much, you have treated it as a bridge that shouldn’t be crossed. Now, you let his hand travel down your thigh, you allow him to grab a handful of your skirt and slowly, slowly drag it up.

When you still don’t protest, his unhurried kiss turns into a delighted, hungry one. 

He finds nothing but skin underneath your dress, and starts to explore your thigh with a trembling hand. He's warm and big, both gentle and calloused, and you can’t help but think how obscene you must look with your black robes dragged up like that, a man’s hand desperately searching for the treasure between your legs while your mouths devour each other in a slow, sloppy kiss. 

His fingers slide up, up, up until they meet the fabric of your panties, then come to a halt right above the mound of your sex. In both horror and thrill, you find your thighs parting, inviting him in, heart racing in your chest as König finds your underwear not only wet but soaked through.

That’s when he groans – into your mouth, hot breaths hitting your face as he examines you through the panties like it’s business as usual that you’re so wet. You’re both ashamed and exhilarated – you haven’t even shaved. And he’s about to…

“Mh–”

You feel him probe the side of the fabric, then casually sliding your poor, soaked underwear aside. Your wet folds are exposed to cold air and warm fingers; the last of your armour, your pride and shame and vows, drift away like they were made of nothing but simple steam. 

He drags his fingers across your folds, unhurried and pleased to meet you so ready. The fact that this man could crush your windpipe or break your spine, he could grab your thighs and force them apart like sticks, have his way with you if he wanted, doesn’t make you afraid of him like it probably should. You know he would never hurt you, but the intensity, the intimacy in his glare and touch, are enough to make the air around you feel electric. 

“You’ve never been with anyone…?” 

The question is breathless and thick, causing your core to tighten.

“No…” 

Is it that obvious…?

“Hmm.”

“‘Hmm’ what…?”

“Nothing. You’re sweet.”

He doesn’t try to steal a peek at your glistening sex, all bared and slick for him. He only has eyes for you. Your rushed breaths, how they hitch in your throat when he brushes a thumb over your clit. Your lids, fluttering over defenceless eyes as you try to search for something to ground you. But there’s nothing to hold on to but him, so you anchor yourself in the dark hunger of his eyes.

“I tried to leave you alone. I truly tried, Kätzchen… But you’re so sweet it’s illegal.”

The words hit you, loaded with lust, but you’re too weak to answer him anymore. Pitch-black darkness stares back at you as the sounds of your drenched pussy fill the room. You want to touch him too, but you’re too shy, still trying to silence the buzzing beehive of your brain and come to terms with the fact that this is actually happening. 

“I should’ve come back for you… I knew I should have, right away. I was too dumb, meine Liebling…”

Starved and dreamy, he looks down at you, whole body tight as you hold on to him and take in his confession. Only, you feel like you’re the one who’s confessing here… He seems to read you like a book, giving you just enough to keep that adoring look on your face.

He slips a finger in, and you stop breathing for a second, the room seems to go darken, even when it’s high noon. Time slows down while your heart thunders in your chest, giving you a sense of urgency where there is none. Pulling out and adding another finger straight away, he ushers a mewl out of you.

Your fingers curl around his shirt, pulling and tugging it as you try to keep intact. A deep rumble echoes in his chest when he sees you so pliant, clutching him like you’re drowning. 

“I know you want this,” he says, voice so rough that you barely recognize it’s him. “Don’t hold back…”

You try to beg him for more but the words come out as a whimper without a voice, causing something dark to flash behind his eyes. That’s all the reply you get: a pleased, filthy stare of someone who’s about to wreck you up. He must like his victims like this, too: on their backs, begging for mercy before he finishes them…

Blinking in despair, you try to drive the intrusive thoughts away, but he’s already upon you. Crossing the last breath of air between you, he captures your mouth in his.

You can do nothing but take, take, take: his fingers and his mouth, greedy for the rapture that’s already blooming in the distance, rising like a tidal wave. He won’t stop kissing you even when you spread your legs further – to what end, you don’t even know, because he fucks you without effort, keeps you pressed against him in a way that says you’re his.

You squeeze your eyes shut, tasting him, your whole body going tense before you erupt with a miserable, pained moan.

You reach the peak and break, right into his mouth, around his fingers, the weight of it all almost unbearable. He groans on your tongue, kissing you while you milk his fingers, your inner walls hugging him in waves.

Nothing moves except you, the shudders and squirms gradually leaving your body while he draws circles on your clit, lazy and somewhat absent-minded, like you’re his favourite toy now.

The release brings with it a roaring wave of sadness, a deep grief, something that has been locked up inside you for months – no, years, now brought to the surface from the bottom of a stagnant sea.

He lets you go reluctantly, releasing your mouth so you can breathe more freely. Burying his face into your neck, you decide to do the same, escaping to the solace of his strength while trying to prevent tears from welling up. 

König doesn’t yet understand that your release continues as a cleansing wave of relief; he only pulls out, slowly and carefully, gently sets your panties back where they were, straightens your dress, and hugs you as if nothing ever happened. 

You start to cry in full, not even knowing why. You just know you’ve wanted this for ages. This connection, this ecstasy, this mutual presence and fulfilment, this sense of belonging to someone. 

“Scheiße… Did I do something wrong?” 

König finally realizes you’re crying, and grows taut from the middle like an iron cord. The pure concern in his voice only makes you bawl louder and grip him tighter, and the man starts to veritably panic.

“Kätzchen, I–”

“No, no,” your jaw is shaking as you try to explain. “I just… It’s…”

You’re hugging him so tight that you don’t know where you end and he begins, but as König caresses your back, swallowing as he does it, you eventually come back down to planet Earth and back to this bed. 

“Did you like it…?” He asks, still with so much worry that you could announce your love for this man right away.

“Yes… Very much.”

“Gut.”

You think about returning the favour, but selfishly, you’d want nothing more than to stay here like this, in his arms, for just a few more minutes. Or an hour... Well, if you got to decide, you’d stay here for the rest of your life.

“Come here,” he says while you’re already locked in an inseparable embrace. He doesn’t make a single move to coax you into touching him in return, and after a few seconds, your voice comes out as a frail question.

“Should I… Do you want me to–?”

“Shh.”

…

Six months without him. 

Six months, and now you couldn’t bear to be apart from him for six hours.

You’re glad you were sensible enough to shave before running to him that morning. Making up more excuses about how you’re seeing your friend because she just suffered a terrible loss and needs some spiritual and emotional support, you sneak a couple of blocks down the street to see König. If anyone suspects something, they say nothing, but you feel the lies as a grimy cloak upon your shoulders as you hurry up the stairs of the B&B.

The shadows dissipate when König catches you in his arms. You get smothered with kisses as he spins you around, making you chastise him for being so careless with the wound. 

It’s, of course, difficult to scold a man who’s kissing you so profusely… You’re starting to feel like he wants it to open again so that he never has to leave this place. To be honest, you wouldn’t mind it either if you two stayed here forever.

“You’re crazy, and silly, and I like you,” you tell him while looking down at him – a strange thing to do, even if the man has picked you up like this once before. 

“Is that so?” 

His eyes always light up when he sees you, but now, he looks like a man in love.

“Yes... I like you a lot.”

“And I like you. Do you want to see how much?” 

He gives you that slightly crooked grin that reminds you of feline predators, or fantasy creatures who are up to no good. He also moves quickly for a man of his size, and before you know it, you’re thrown on the bed like a sack of potatoes. As you laugh and try to adjust yourself on the bedding, he’s already on his knees, head quickly disappearing under your robe.

God, he’s not going to–

“What are you doing…?” 

“Giving you a kiss,” comes a muffled voice under your dress.

He’s headed straight between your legs, two days worth of coarse stubble scraping the insides of your thighs as he goes.

“But… But what about your injuries?” You try to scurry upwards on the bed, hands shooting instinctively to hold his head in place before he does something utterly shameless. 

“König–”

“Sei ruhig.” 

God – you’re not the most confident woman when it comes to these things to begin with. It’s one thing for a man to lay his fingers on you and look you in the eyes while you cum, and another thing entirely to place his mouth where you’re wet and aching. 

What if he won’t like it...?

What if you’re not beautiful enough there? 

...What if you taste odd? 

You’re shy, as any woman would be on their first time getting head. You’re infinitely grateful to yourself for shaving because there’s a delighted, surprised sound under the robe when König strips you from your underwear.

“For me…?” 

He’s smiling at your pussy, voice dampened by the thick cotton, and you thank God that he can’t see your mortified face right now.

You brace yourself for a delicate kiss, maybe a tentative lick or two. But the soft tenderness of yesterday is gone as König presses his whole face into your sex, giving it a good inhale followed by a good, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. 

Wrenched awake from your semi-relaxed state, you jerk up on the bed as he does it again. Then come the flat-tongued, starved licks – your pussy wakes up after recovering from the initial shock, giving a full throb against his stubbled jaw. König breathes a short laugh against you, pleased with this response.

The noise of him “kissing” you is obscene and only gets worse when he drags his tongue up and down your slit. You truly hope the doors here are solid wood because you can’t stifle all the sounds that escape you. For some reason, it is vital for you not to let the old receptionist know that a humble sister of Christ is getting licked to ruin in his establishment. 

You’re stunned, and a bit appalled – was this all it took to turn your nose up to your vows? A big man with big arms and a big gun? Some guy who wants to get under your dress after a few weeks of acquaintance…?

Because that’s what this is, a few weeks’ acquaintance currently under your robes, eating you out like you’re his last meal. 

The things you’ve imagined him do to you are shameful; even now, you fantasize about König picking you up and taking you against a wall when he gets better. This man treats you right, he treats you sweet, but you want more, you need something earthly and raw, and him lapping you under your habit is precisely that. It’s ravenous and adorable at the same time, so conflicting that you don’t know who you are anymore. 

You’re going through several stages of ego death and bliss; you’re going through a crisis of faith and multiple rebirths while König is having a field day with your pussy. It should concern you that he’s so eager to wreck you like this. It should arouse suspicion that the playful aura of this man changes whenever he gets between your legs... He becomes deliciously dark somehow, dark and base and addictive, and you wind into another plane of existence with him, to someplace only reserved for you two. 

“König,” you whisper. “I’m– I’m about to cum…”

“Uh-huh. You have my permission.” 

It’s dark, again, so smooth and rich that your inner walls clench, then flood with pleasure and pain. The inevitable orgasm is thigh-shaking and soul-ripping, your moans long and pitiful now. They’re not whimpers but cries, bare and pained as he continues to bully you with his tongue, grunting silky sin into your core. 

You can feel yourself leak on his chin as you cum, violently, forgetting the whole existence of the man downstairs. He turns you into an overstimulated, limp, heady mess – your chest is heaving by the time König emerges from under your robes.

“Oh God…” 

It simply escapes from your lips when you see how wet his jaw is. There’s a pussydrunk look in his eyes as he takes a look at his good work.

All thoughts of What if he doesn’t enjoy it evaporate when you see the demanding erection between his legs, pointing at you so viciously that you feel pity for the fabric of his pants.

“Ja... I made you see God?”

“Stop it… You’re so cheeky...”

“Eh. And you’re technically still a virgin. We need to fix that, don’t you think?”

“I don’t feel like a virgin.” 

“Well… I can take the blame.” He gives you a naughty little wink. “Remember? I would go to hell for you.”

And as if you weren’t in over your head already, he starts to drag your robes up. Too limp to do anything about him unravelling you like that – not even wanting to prevent it – you continue to catch your breath as his eyes go wide.

“This is what you’ve been hiding under here all this time…?”

He tucks the thick fabric up until your breasts are exposed. You’re not wearing any bra; you stopped wearing them years ago as useless and immoral. Your nipples perk up from excitement under his stare, your panties wrenched down in a hurry, now crumpled and forgotten somewhere between your thighs – the look on his face is priceless as he takes in the view of your exposed body like you’re a Christmas present he just opened. 

“You naughty girl…” he says thickly, and while you’ve received plenty of attention these last two days, it still makes you feel odd to be adored like this. His hawk eyes fly back to you, the corner of his mouth tugging up with some new, nasty idea.

“Want to see what I got?”

Oh God…

You don’t even get to express your consent – which would be enthusiastic – before König pulls the waistband of his boxers down. 

The cock that springs free is long and thick, heavy and red-pink from the tip that’s pointing straight at you. Curving slightly to the side, it’s even bigger than you thought, somehow having been rendered harmless by his pants, making it seem hefty but never that tall.

Your friend was right about him – tall men have tall dicks… Big hands indicate a big dick, too, you remember as you watch how he wraps tall, lean fingers around himself, giving his shaft a slow half-stroke. 

“You want to practice with me?”

You quickly rip your eyes up to his – you’re the world’s lousiest nun, caught staring at a cock like that. König only seems proud that you’re so intrigued by it, his eyes watching over you with dark amusement. 

“Uh–huh,” you swallow and nod – Christ, your voice is breaking… 

And whatever he means by “practising”, you can only hope that he’s not going to put it inside. There’s not even a condom for crying out loud. 

It’s a sigh-inducing thing when he gets to it, rests the heavy head of him on your clit, then drags the fat tip down across your folds.

“F–uck…” his head falls back a bit, lids fluttering closed from the way your slickness feels against him. That’s the most sensitive spot in a man – more of your friend’s advice floods your brain as you watch how he does it again, rasping while guiding himself up and down your slit.

You’ve never seen him so serious: his brows furrow together as he explores your folds, spreading your wetness all over himself while stroking his length. Agonizingly slow, you can see his balls hang heavy and gradually pull tight as he continues to work his cock. 

You know you should touch him, return the favour at last – but it’s hard to interrupt a moment like this. You’re mesmerized to see him already tensing from the chest up, the tendons on his neck becoming visible as he grits his teeth together.

“Kätzchen…” he rasps, “Would you mind if I…”

You fear that he’ll ask for permission to slip it inside, tempted and weak-willed. And to be honest, you’re not sure if you’d have the will to deny him.

But that’s not what he has in mind, apparently, as he begins to fist himself in a slack hurry, with half-lidded eyes and a slightly open mouth. He just wants to cum like this and ease the pain that must be terrible after days of sexual tension…

And seeing you laid out before him, naked and dreamy and bare, licked stupid just moments ago isn’t helping, that’s for sure.

“No,” you whisper, “No I won’t mind…”

You brave your heart to reach out and touch him: it’s just a shy hand gliding down his chest, but it makes him groan from pleasure. A brush of fingertips across his abs, and his muscles contract, and when you slide your palm over his hipbone and coax him to come closer, he finally leans forward and on top of you.

“Kätzchen…” he groans in whispers now. “You’re so wet…”

He could slip it in from this position, search for your opening and rough it inside. It’s tempting, so alluring that you almost say please – but that would be a catastrophe, and so you only look up at him, speechless when he supports himself on his hands and starts to glide up and down, fucking himself between your thighs. 

The bulged tip caresses your clit each time he pulls back – you doubt you can cum another time like this, but he sure as hell tries his everything to get you off too. 

“You want it…” he grunts above you. “You want me to fuck you. Right...?”

“Yes… But–”

“I’ll get a condom.”

“No, wait–” 

Now it's your turn to panic. You were always taught that condoms are unacceptable, while simultaneously, you know you could never do it raw, not even with König.

This is a moral choice you've never had to face before, and your brain is no use to you now. It's riddled with chants of Put it in and Forget about the bloody plastic because even with your zero experience you know it wouldn't feel as good as skin.

"No? It's a sin or something?" 

König pants above you, both tired and needy, and you nod with pleading eyes, not knowing what else to do. 

"Ok… Ok," he adjusts to the new reality while hovering on the brink of eruption. "I'll talk you out of it later..."

You give him a small smile, and he answers it with his own, slowly, starts to move again. Just the feel of the smooth surface of his cock dragging up and down your slit is enough to bite your lip and moan. Sliding your hands over his waist and down his butt, you give him a good squeeze–

And were he inside you, the effects would have been disastrous.

He cums abruptly, with a stiff, broken groan as soon as your nails dig into his skin. Hot, heavy seed meets your folds; it’s thick, the spurts neverending as he continues to fuck himself between your thighs with little control. How you still have anything left to give, you cannot comprehend, but the sudden, messy orgasm of this indomitable man makes you cum as well. 

Everything’s hot and sticky and dreamlike, almost pornographic, your thighs drenched in cum as he ruts through the orgasm with you. You roll your hips in sync with his, arriving at the end of your own mellow, beautiful peak, wondering how on earth it can only get better every time you have sex… 

The afterwaves are magical; you basically came together, and it hasn’t even been in yet. If this is what sex is like, mind-blowing and relaxing, hot and sweet and fulfilling with the right person, then you feel both dumb and proud for saving yourself for König.

And you’re starting to realize that you might just have a boyfriend…

No – not a boyfriend.

You have a man.

…

König orders food – or goes downstairs in nothing but his shirt and boxers and makes the poor man order it – while you lie in bed, under covers, still high from all the lovemaking. The room must be smelling like a sex cave by now. 

You take a quick shower while waiting for the delivery, mentally berating yourself for being so reckless. Having a man cum all over your folds is not exactly a safe way to practice sex… You’re doing everything wrong, asking König if he has any diseases when he comes back. 

He just pulls you back into his arms with a gentle laugh and says: “What do you take me for, a jerk? Of course I’m clean, silly kitty.”

That calms your nerves a little. You’re feeling anything but virginal right now, and putting on the black, heavy robes of a nun doesn’t sit well with you. You leave them on the floor, making König a very happy man by deciding to sit on the bed completely naked. 

You reach for the comforter when there’s a knock on the door, and clutch it against your chest like a paid woman while König pays the courier – still in his black boxers and t-shirt, like he’s just a guy who happens to live here.

“What...? Eat?”

The smell of Nepalese food fills the room: the rich, mouthwatering scents in stark contrast to what you’re used to at the convent’s kitchen. Butter chickens, lamb koftas and flatbreads are laid out steaming on the bed between you, and König attacks the food like someone who hasn’t seen a meal in weeks.

It makes you smile; him being so happy with simple things such as good food and some kinky sex, a nice cuddle and a nap to top it off. He munches on the food with his mouth open because it’s so hot – the man’s secretly so greedy that you can’t help but wonder if he had enough love, food and shelter as a child.

“Do you do this often?” You ask when he rips another handful of flatbread to dip in the sauce. 

“Seduce women.”

“Seduce…?” He laughs. “Kätzchen, I couldn’t seduce a woman even if I tried.”

You’re unsure if he’s dodging the question or being humble – or worse yet, if it means you’ve been an easy conquest.

“You just did,” you point out, realizing you’re sulking when König tilts his head with curiosity. 

“Oh. I’m sorry… Did it hurt?”

You grab a pillow to throw at him, but he dodges it and laughs.

“Careful with the food…!”

And of course he isn’t. 

You decide it’s useless with him, and besides, jealousy is not a good look. But you just can’t help it... You’re so in love that it’s not even funny anymore.

To you, he’s a hero and a God in one man, he’s both Satan and the Saviour. But to König, you’re probably just a nice foreign friend... Some cute nun he met months ago, who he finally gets to grope and taste and, hopefully, soon fuck. He says he doesn’t have time for women, and yet he licks you like a professional – not like you know what a professional in this area feels like, but it’s pretty clear that König is not a virgin even if you are. 

It must be nice to live a dangerous life and bump into women on the street... Woo them off their feet and leave them yearning, then get shot and cared for by some fussy, naive nun who’s head over heels for him. Perhaps it’s his favourite pastime hobby to torture ladies with flowers and letters and some cock and then leave like a cowboy. You wonder if he has a girl in every city – girls who aren’t nuns, girls who know how to show him a good time.

“Kitten... I’m not like that,” he says, a curry-drenched piece of bread dripping sauce over his fingers. “I only hold hands with you. Now that you finally let me.”

And you don’t know what’s more decadent: eating naked on the bed after making love, or being a Catholic nun who’s about to beg a man to fuck you, with or without a condom.

He finally notices he’s about to make a mess on the sheets, and gobbles the food as quickly as he can before there’s sauce all over the bed. Licking his fingers with dark, glimmering eyes set on you, you quickly focus your attention on the food.

The bastard is flirting with you every chance he gets, even when you two are trying to eat... 

“Is this what you call holding hands?” You ask, reaching for a piece of bread he's offering you.

König looks at you a while longer, with an expression he sometimes wears when conversing about serious, deep subject, the issues of God and Heart.

“This is what I call liking someone so much it hurts.”

…

König learns your body language; he knows it like a native speaker by the end of the week. 

You, on the other hand, learn that he’s ticklish on the sides of his stomach and behind the ears. You discover that he gets hard if you caress his abs or whisper in his ear that you like him... You learn everything about what kind of handjobs he likes; you find out that he almost rips the sheets apart when you take him in your mouth.

You lie on top of him, you lie under him, you let him hold you any way he likes. He moves you around like a doll, kisses you until you’re soaked, laughs into your neck when you tell him he’s being impossible again. He loves your breasts religiously, bites and nibs and licks them until you grab his head and tell him you can’t take it anymore. He has an oral fixation for your body and has to kiss every part of you: your inner thighs, your hip bones, the quivering place just below the navel; your neck and fingers and arms, even the arch of your foot. 

You receive attention only reserved for saints, and fear that someone will notice the smell of cum on you, or the musk of a man, lingering in your hair. Your sisters could easily notice your flushed lips if they wanted to. They could see the dreamy smiles, eyes that have just seen God, but everyone is looking inward, and no one sees how you rebel against the Lord right under their nose.

You stay strong in your no condoms policy, but practice with König every day; you practice so much that his wound opens and starts to bleed.

“Oh my God…”

“Heh… It’s okay,” he says as your stare drifts down to the side of his stomach. The bandage is slowly blooming with red, and your crazy soldier would simply go on if you didn’t order him to lie down. 

You’re both naked as you start to patch him up, convinced that this is some sort of a punishment for being so reckless. König only smiles on the bed while you treat him; it’s like his master plan finally worked.

“I like it when you take care of me,” he explains while you clean up the wound. You raise your stare, and in place of a horny, able-bodied man, there’s briefly a boy, a kid who used to make himself sick as a child to get at least some attention.

“Has no one ever taken care of you…?” 

“Not really.”

He grunts when the antiseptic seeps inside the wound – you wince, sympathetic to his pain.

“Is that why you like me?” You try to chitchat and take his attention away from it, secretly nervous when fishing for details on why he would want to be with someone like you.

“There are many reasons why I like you.” 

“Such as…?”

“Your smile, for starters... I like that. And then… I really like your ass.”

“König...”

“What, I’m not allowed to?”

You purse your lips to scold him, but really, your heart hurts so much it burns. There are a million doors to this man, but he only keeps one or two open at a time, to prevent an attack of some sort. 

“I like your devotion,” he says, finally with some serious air about him. “Your kindness. You don’t hurt people.”

“...But you do,” you whisper. It’s not an accusation, only a comment. 

“I would never hurt you.”

The playfulness is gone, and while you miss it, you also like it when König gets fragile like this, stripping himself of all the shields that make him a strong, confident merc.

“Sometimes we have to fight for the things we love,” he continues, probably explaining why he endorses violence.

“Killing is a sin,” you say, more to yourself than to him. 

“Kätzchen... You can’t tell me it’s a sin to kill the ones who would try to hurt you. You can’t tell me it’s not love to hurt them back.”

You look at him, calm and adoring on the bed. He’s so sure of his choices, like an archangel set on the borders of Eden with a flaming sword in his hand... 

And the rose is starting to unfurl, the enigma finally unravelling itself. You’re the sacred Other, the opposite of him, you’re the great Mystery he’s infatuated with. You have peace and faith and hope and love: everything he lacks. 

And he’s the opposite of you. Fierce, vengeful, violent… Hopeless, suffering, without peace. Ready to dive into the world and bathe in it, be it a pool filled with love or blood.

He’s searching for the answers, too, only in different ways.

“And no one ever will.”

“No one’s trying to kill or hurt me,” you whisper, trying to stand brave under that flaming stare. But he’s stronger than you, even when recovering. He pulls you back to the bed and in his arms because that’s where you simply belong now, and caresses your cheek, as gently as you caressed his withered flower in your cell.

…

You know your days at the convent are coming to an end, but when the abbess gives you a warning after the fifth day of you skipping half of your chores, appointments and prayers, you go to see her. 

Without mentioning König or what you’ve been up to lately, you simply tell her you’ve decided to move on with your life. You say you’ve studied your soul for months now, coming to a conclusion that the life of a nun doesn’t suit you after all. 

These things happen, and people have left before; it’s nothing new under the sun that a nun or a monk wishes to return to the world. This is not a prison, you remind yourself, knowing that your departure will send some waves through the place but that eventually, people will go on with their lives.

You will probably be forgotten in a year: someone else will take your place, and you will continue your adventures someplace far away from here… Or that’s what you hope. 

But even if things didn’t work out with König, and you somehow ended up alone, it has become clear that you can’t stay here and continue this double life.

König’s offer doesn’t sound too bad: the Austrian Alps sound very enticing, actually. A simple life away from the buzz of the city is a golden opportunity for you; peace and faith can remain in your life without preventing you from participating in it. If only you knew whether he was kidding when he said that…

“Are you sure, sister? This seems like a rash decision.”

“Yes. I’m sure. I… I think I have found something,” you try to awkwardly explain. 

“Something… Or someone?”

“I just know that I can’t stay here. It’s not right.”

“On that, I agree.”

You go through the procedures, ritualistic, almost. The abbess asks whether you understand that this cannot be undone: you can’t just leave and then come back if you change your mind. The doors of the Church will always remain open to you, but your vows cannot be renewed, not in this convent. If this acquaintance of yours turns out to be a disappointment, you cannot simply come back here, don your robes, and start over.

She’s only doing her duty, and you try to listen respectfully, nodding as she lists the things that will be out of your grasp after you walk out those doors. Thinking that everything’s settled, you inform her you’ll leave today, to which she puckers her brows.

“My dear. Don’t you owe it to this convent to meditate on this for one more day? Don’t you owe it to yourself, to the Lord...? I’m sure the world can wait a few more hours.”

You sigh, bow your head, and bend to her will. 

She’s right; you can’t just leave as if all the years of joy and peace here meant nothing. You have people to say goodbye to, and you owe it to God to say your prayers, not your last, but last behind these walls. You haven’t even attended the evening mass these days; it’s like you stopped being a nun when a certain Austrian soldier asked if you wanted to take a nap with him.

You receive lots of well wishes, hugs, even tears when you tell others you’re leaving. Embarrassed that you almost got rid of your robes and sneaked out to another secret lover’s meeting without even saying farewell, you meet everyone with full presence until you find yourself crying too. 

You catch very little envy in your sisters, but there are some who look at you with jealous disdain when you tell them that no, you don’t even have an apartment yet, nor a job, but that you’ll take your new life as a gift and face it like an exciting adventure. 

Thinking about König all day long, you can’t wait for tomorrow so you can tell him the good news. You hope he understands that you can’t visit him every day, even if it has been your silent agreement that you knock on his door before noon. It’s a good thing that the poor man gets some rest: you can tickle and giggle and practice with him tomorrow to your heart’s content, it’s not like he’ll disappear in the next 24 hours.

He’s in König now; all that bliss resides with him and the moments when you two break bread together, or wash each other, tell each other silly secrets on the bed, fall asleep after a round of good sex.

Except that that’s exactly what you fear while you go about your day. 

Sorrow and excitement mix in your heart with bittersweet torment, but what haunts you most is that you no longer find God in the great hall where your sisters sing. You don’t feel His presence during the Mass. 

Sun sets behind the window, and you sigh while peeking out of your nunnery turned prison. Silence weighs upon you like a blanket, but you can’t get any sleep. 

There’s a sudden “clack” on the window, followed by rap, small pebbles or something clattering against the glass. You rise to sit on the bed, instantly thinking of König and his stupid, silly threats.

The longing is awful, it’s even worse when König was away for half a year because now you actually have something to miss. You wonder if he’s watching the same sweet skies as you, if he’s worried or hurt when you didn’t visit him today.

You wonder if the man has only shrugged his shoulders and left…

It can’t be…

There’s another clack, then another, until you jump from under the covers and go to the window, opening it without even remembering to be quiet. 

As soon as the windowpane glides open and you peek out, you meet König and his stare.

“What are you– You can’t be here...!”

“I was just about to sing,” he grins without even bothering to tone down his voice, letting the remaining gravel in his hand fall to the ground.

Bending his knees, he swiftly jumps up, pulling himself to the window sill like it’s easy parkour, probably opening that goshdarn wound again in the process. No wonder men die younger – you’d have to tie this specimen to a sturdy lamp post if you wanted him to stay put...

Throwing a pair of long legs over the sill, he makes himself at home, forcing you to take a good few steps back as he simply waltzes inside your room.

“You didn’t come to see me today,” he says like it’s some kind of an explanation for this silliness.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” you roll your eyes. “Something came up, and I had to stay here.” 

If you tell him that you’ve just renounced your vows, there’s no way you’ll get him out. He’d just say you must celebrate the good news by making love all night. 

“That’s alright,” he says amiably. “I’ll just visit you.”

Trying to argue with whispers doesn’t really help your cause. König only smiles down on you like a cheerful, jovial sun.

“But... It’s... You can’t be here…!” 

“I promise I’ll behave.”

“You and your promises… We both know how well you keep those. Go back before you get me into trouble, silly. We can see each other tomorrow.”

“But I want to see you today.” 

“Well, you’ve seen me,” you extend your hands to your sides, knowing you’ve already lost. “You can go back now.”

“I don’t think so.” 

He takes another step, forcing you to back away until you bump into your bed. Crossing the final breath between you, he pulls you into a kiss.

So much for contemplating your choices and dedicating your last night as a nun to God…

And it’s laughable how fast he rids you of your clothes these days. It’s stupid how fast you’re able to help him get undressed…  You all but tear the clothes off each other; actually, you can hear a seam rip when you both yank the shirt over his head, the new black t-shirt you just bought him a few days ago. 

Does he even know what he’s doing to you…?

Muscles rippling in the fading sunlight, he’s a god mortalized. Body built as a weapon to rip or ram his way through enemies, to you, he’s only ever been the source of joy and pleasure.

You could pray on the altar of his pecs, sing songs and chants to his lips, worship the bunching muscles of his thighs, kneel before the thing that rests thick between them. The sheer width of him is enough to make you drunk: desire pools, brims, until you feel like you can’t breathe anymore. 

You lay yourself on the bed, and he follows, like a big panther or a prowling titan. The bed sags as he sets his knee on it, it wails when crawls on top of you. Heavy cock swinging between his thighs, it seems like a cruel joke that you chose this man to be your first. 

And you didn’t expect that you’d lose your virginity this way: in your old room at the holy convent you swore yourself to a few years ago. You didn’t expect you’d lose it to a giant soldier who starts to frantically search for a condom after you whisper to him you’re done with practising.

While theoretically a sin, you’re more sullen with the prospect that you won’t be able to feel the silken hardness of him now that he rolls the plastic on. A little too enthusiastically – as if he hadn’t seen a woman in weeks, let alone cummed all over one two times yesterday. 

Still, you find heat pooling down your stomach as he approaches you, keen and eager and as hard as a man can get when he sees something that he likes.

He doesn’t need to part your legs: you do it for him, and when he sees your pussy all puffed up, leaking a thin stream down on the bed, his brows knit together, the expression reminding you of approaching thunder in summer.

His gaze is heavy like midnight when he guides it back to you – always back to you and your eyes, even if there’s a whole feast down there, prepared just for him. The backs of your thighs meet his as he slowly crawls forward, spreading your legs further apart before the battering ram. 

“Kitten...” he rumbles. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

The springs continue to wail beneath you: it’s like the whole world is against you today, even the stupid bed making it far too likely to get caught. And if you get caught, it won’t be just by some shocked sisters screaming when they find a man inside your room… It will be by them screaming when they find him inside you.

And he doesn’t seem to even care.

“Ach so my little nun… I hope we don’t break the bed,” he smirks.

“I hope you don’t break the bed…”

“You want me to take you down there instead?” 

He nods in the direction of the floor, and you can only blink – your soldier boyfriend is offering to fuck you on the cold cement as if it’s some kind of an option.

“I’m not having my first time on a floor,” you grump.

“Heh. Thought so, princess.”

The possibility of getting caught makes him visibly excited. Hell, it makes you excited... You wonder if he’s an adrenaline junkie, leading a dangerous life and having a life-threatening job, now choosing to try his luck at fucking a nun at a cloister.

You don’t want to be a challenging conquest or a kinky story told to some fellow soldiers at a bar… You want to be a commitment; you want to mean something to him. But you can’t escape the fact that this setting is turning you on. You’re even worse than him, spreading your legs and hoping he’d touch you with that cock; just drag it down your lips and glide it in already.

His gaze is heavy, blue steel, blazing in the darkness as he looks at you so wanton on the bed, a simple crucifix on the wall as the only witness to your deeds. This must be one of the craziest things you’ve done in your life…

Replacing his hand with the head of his cock, he finally lets you have what you need. The tip of him is hot, even when covered in thin plastic, and the sight of him, large and powerful and dark, looming godlike above you, makes you think of pagan heroes and kings. To you, he’s all men in one, the sheer mass of him making your thighs tremble from want.

With a curious finger sliding down the wet, heavy seam of you, he swears when meeting you so pliant and wet. Thanks to your constant “practising”, you’re always slightly aroused, getting in the mood the instant you see him.

Contrary to your belief, having sex multiple times a day doesn’t, in fact, stifle sexual desire but adds to it… It’s like you’ve opened Pandora’s box together, only the box contained all the pleasure in the world instead.

“Are you ready, kitten…?” 

“Yes,” you breathe. “Just… We need to be quiet…”

His smile is a flash of a grin in the falling darkness. “I’ll try my best.”

The sound that leaves the back of his throat is a deprived, hoarse moan. He seems to be enjoying it more than anything while you’re trying to remember how to breathe, but when he settles fully in and stays there, you start to actually feel something… Something thick, and heady. 

Settling to your entrance, he tells you to relax, and you try your best with that; you truly do.

But nothing can prepare you for it, the fat head of him sliding in, smoothly and with a spread that leaves you gasping. The fulfilment is phenomenal – you try to remind yourself to relax your muscles as he pushes a few inches in, and then some more, and then some more. More, more, more, until you start to feel your inner walls wake up with alarm. 

Seated so deep that his balls arrive to touch your flesh, your body starts to accept him, squeeze him, hug him.

And it feels good. In a way, it’s the best feeling in the world.

He groans, slightly high-pitched and surprised; perhaps you’re tighter than he expected, or perhaps he can feel the hugging thing… 

Your cheeks are panging with heat – the whole building is silent except for the broken breaths of you two, and the lewd sounds of fucking on your chaste bed not made to take this sort of abuse. Growing only wetter and wetter, you try to keep your moans lodged inside your throat as he starts to fuck you with determination, seeing that you’re enjoying yourself. 

Pulling out the slightest bit, he chooses to head straight back, apparently not wanting to be deprived of your heat even for a second. Thrust by thrust, he pulls out more, allowing you to get used to what it feels like. The bed is absolutely horrid, creaking every time he buries himself back in. 

It’s a punishing of sorts, his cock knocking the air out of you every now and then. The slap of his balls against you is sinful – your room has seen nothing like this, nothing but some shy solo action every few months. Now you’re spread wide open for a good pounding, his hips reaching a pace that makes the rest of the world slowly dissolve. 

Realizing he might be a bit too enthusiastic with a woman who’s a first-timer, he swallows and slows down his pace, causing you to almost scream with frustration. 

“Am I being too rough…?” He asks, panting like he just ran ten miles. Plugged deep inside you, you can feel his cock throbbing and pulling near the point of cumming – perhaps another reason why he stopped.

“No… No.” 

You sound puny under him, fingers flexing over his skin, the great ribs flaring in reply under your touch.

“You want more?” 

“Mm. Needy little thing...” 

“...Yes.”

Huffing in the hollow of your neck, he breaks into a smile and licks his lips. 

You barely catch the hint of degrading tone in his voice, a mocking, something about the way you’re so wet and needy for him stroking his ego just the right way.

Knowing that he’s here for reasons other than just sex doesn’t change the fact that you enjoy getting sweaty with him, spiralling into a state of total surrender. Ten times more powerful than the most blissful experiences with your God, you want to come here for worship again and again, to have his body entangled with yours. 

Ecstatic that you just came, König no longer holds back; he doesn’t even let you gather the remaining pieces of your sanity before he starts to chase his own peak. Taking what he needs from you, the trusts turn into short, quick pumps, some foul German curse hissed between his teeth just before he cums. 

When the tide swells, it’s a bit different: not just external stimuli and shallow friction, but areas never explored now getting nudged as well. The delicious drag of his length in and out of you, the thickness making you feel overstuffed, does make the pleasure well like never before.

You’re not accustomed to this, being forced so dumb by a cock. Cheekily anticipating the swelling wave, it breaks upon you almost without warning. There’s nowhere to escape, and the climax is blinding, the euphoria leaving you without air for a moment. 

You can feel every thick pulse of his cock, and fear for the condom that looked far too tight to manage to take both him and his load. You whimper and cling to him as he ruts through his heavy bliss, entire body throbbing with heat from the joy of spilling inside you. 

When done, he sinks half his weight on you, thoroughly spent, and you feel fulfilled, some deep-seated joy taking hold of everything that once was hollow. Curiously, all shame is absent. The man on top of you is sweaty and catching his breath, but you’re only glad to swim in the messy, sweaty newness of you two. 

“You ok...?”

You want his weight on you… You want him to stay inside you until he grows soft, you need him to be as drowsy and complete as you.

Hugging him tight in the middle of your post-coital bliss, you feel König rumble into your neck.

“Better than ever,” you breathe a smile. “How about you…?”

“...In heaven,” he replies, and you have to stifle a giggle pushing up your throat. He has never sounded so spent. So tired, happy and fragile…

“I just want to be with you like this,” he continues to mutter on your skin. “Can I be with you like this…?”

“Yes.”

He slowly rises to lean on his elbows, propping himself on them one by one. Weary, pleased eyes slowly focus on you, and the back of his palm comes to caress you, knuckles gently brushing your temple, thumb swiping away an escapee hair. 

“Kitten… I’m serious. I don’t want to live without you.”

“We have a tradition in Austria where men sometimes steal the bride.”

“How convenient,” you smile.

“I know you belong to someone else, but I’m going to steal you.”

Your eyes are full of stars, you just know they are. If this is another one of his jokes, you can’t bring yourself to care, not as long as he looks at you like that, eyes so set and determined.

“I’m sure He won’t mind,” you mirror his gesture, raising a hand to caress his cheek.

“I’ll fight Him if he does.” 

“...You can’t fight God,” you laugh.

“Why not?”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You open your mouth, then close it, shaking your head on the pillow. In a way, you can imagine him taking up arms against God if it came to that. If there was someone foolish enough – or brave enough – to rise against God, that someone would be him.

“König… I renounced my vows today.”

“...You did?”

The happiness, the pure joy in his eyes, is heartbreaking. At that moment, you know that all his silly jokes, follies, and babbles about taking you to the mountains and whisking you away have been real. They have been true, honest wishes... There is no lie in him, no jest, no fakeness. Just pure, simple joy from hearing that you finally chose him, too.

“I tried to leave in the morning but the abbess made me stay for one more day.”

“Ah... So you’re being held a prisoner here?”

“Kind of.”

The familiar twinkle in his eyes tells you that he already has another plan coming right up. That grin means mischief; but with you, only the sweetest kind.

“Well. You’re in luck, then, because I’m here to save you.”

“You just said you’re going to steal me,” you laugh.

“Call it what you want, kitten,” he winks. “But I’m not leaving without you.”

…

The sun has set, but the evening is bright, the sky filled with stars visible even through city lights. It’s dark in the courtyard as you sneak out of the window with König, trying not to giggle as you escape. You call it a prison break; he calls it Einsatz Rapunzel. Whatever it is, it feels like freedom.

The old man doesn’t even care to look surprised when he sees you clothed in jeans and a simple shirt this time, smiling as you rush upstairs, hand in hand with König.

He whispers promises on your skin, saying that you won’t stay here for long; his contacts will get you to the heart of Europe, tomorrow if you want. You can’t wait to sleep with him tonight: simply sleep with him, finally, curl up together in safety, do the most basic thing all lovers do. You can’t wait to wake up to a fresh dawn together, lovely, curious, and new. 

Night covers you with beauty and grace, his pulse against your palm both a promise and a blessing. You take new vows: promising to yourself to live each day fully and bravely, and never again shut your heart.

The only thing left of you on your old bed is your black and white robe, and on it, a crucifix and a rose, and a note that says:

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love… But the greatest of these is love.

[souiiore]

UNDISCLOSED

arthur morgan oneshot!

pairing: arthur morgan x oc (name not specified)

cw: fluff if you squint your eyes, fingering, unprotected piv, corruption, praise & size kink, farmer's daughter trope, mentions of religion, NSFW, MDNI

wc: 4.6k

summary: Longing for something forbidden has never gotten anyone anywhere.

an: this was a request by my lovely mutual @pinescent-and-gingerbread , im not really happy with how it turned out, but i hope u enjoy<33

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The brisk evening air sent shivers down her spine as she stood up from her bed, dressed in nothing but a thin nightgown. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head, and let her steps lead her to the window in her room. The soft thudding of the rain outside lulled her senses, making her mind wander to the depths of two blue pools. Her locks hung loosely around her shoulders, long curls of thick brown hair framing her soft features.

She had spent the whole day in bed reading a silly romance novel about a man and a woman hopelessly in love. It made her think about her lover. Perhaps "lover" was a strong word for him. He did make her cheeks burn, spread butterflies in her stomach, and cause her to stutter, yes, but he was a bad man. A very bad man, and she was well aware of that. Yet the thrill and excitement, the knowledge of his lifestyle, only drew her closer to him. The fact that she, such a sweet little thing, was romantically involved with someone of his status made it all the more exciting.

Her finger came to touch her lower lip, the ghost of his mouth on hers now only a memory. The rough pads of his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from her face and behind her ear—so tender, so gentle. The twinkle in his eyes whenever she looked at him with such lust for something unknown, something so severe. And he always acted oblivious to her seduction. Clueless, even. But deep down, it made his core burn.

She had met him a long time ago in Valentine. Her father was a simple man, dedicated to his religion, and attending church every Sunday was a requirement for both her and him. Dressed in her best dress, with her hair tied into a neat braid with a bow at the end, a soft blush dusting her cheeks, the men—whether old, married, single, or young���couldn't help but flash her toothy smiles and offer her their elbows. And she was always quick to politely decline with a curt shake of her head and a well-practiced smile. It made her father shake his head in disapproval, a scoff escaping his mouth followed by a scolding.

Soon after the church service ended, she and her father entered the grocery shop to buy some necessities. Reaching up on her tiptoes for the bright green apple on the top shelf, she cursed under her breath when she nearly toppled over. Thankfully, a strong hand wrapped around her waist, steadying her against a hard chest.

“Careful there, miss,” said a hoarse voice from behind, and as quickly as the hand had wrapped around her, it was retrieved from her body with the same speed.

Her nostrils filled with the strong scent of tobacco, sweat, and gunpowder, and she tried her utmost not to pass out. Her head spun. She turned around cautiously, and her gaze was met by a pair of icy blue eyes. Eyes that looked down at her with such severity it sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“Sorry, mister,” she blurted out.

The warmth blooming in her cheeks was undeniable, and she was more than sure it hadn’t gone unnoticed by him, either. He tipped his hat with a swift motion of his hand and strolled out the door, leaving no room for small talk.

Her hand came to rest on her chest, against her heart, and she swore she could feel it skip a beat. Her mind swarmed with the memory of his scent, the way his arm felt around her waist, and the way his eyes looked at her. She could see herself in them—her reflection, so small and trembling. The unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach almost angered her, and what made it worse was knowing she was bound to dream about this nameless man.

The loud voice of her father brought her out of her haze, and she released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. The slap of her father’s hand on the counter with a billfold made her jolt in surprise, and the next thing she knew, she was being dragged away from the building by her wrist.

After that incident, she’d seen him around town, mostly alone but sometimes accompanied by a group of men. Her eyes always lingered on him longer than they should have, and his attention was quickly drawn to her after a few curious looks thrown his way. No words were exchanged in the following weeks, but she could feel the unspoken questions and sentences hanging in the air.

The gentle brush of his body against hers whenever he walked by, his eyes gliding over her body, made her desperate to see him again. And she didn’t even try to conceal it. She wanted him to know how badly she was drawn to him, attracted to him, almost as if by some unnatural force. Magnetic.

She found herself visiting the town more often than she used to, despite her dislike of the people and the stench it carried. At first, she stuck to Sundays, but then it escalated to Mondays as well. Tuesdays, occasionally. Then it was Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. She always found an excuse to visit the town, whether it was to run errands or to pray in the church, and she was disappointed when her eyes didn’t catch his gaze. Her father thought highly of her. If only he knew that his precious sweet daughter was secretly in love with the very man he had warned her about.

Eventually, one of their encounters led to them exchanging names. She learned his name was Arthur. From then on, their coincidental meetings consisted of greetings and a few exchanged words in between. And only the two of them knew the hidden lust behind those words. Their own secret.

Several weeks later, she met him again. This time, under slightly different circumstances.

She was in the same grocery store again when a shootout broke out. Screams, blood, gunshots. The glass windows shattered quickly under the sharp bullets, and she ducked beneath the ledge, grabbing the cross around her neck with a tight grip. Even amidst the loud chaos outside, she could still hear that familiar voice—the nameless man. He was yelling something inaudible. She peeked through the damaged window and saw him with a revolver in his hand, running down the street hastily, the law tailing him.

“Hey, over here!” She waved her hand out the window to grab his attention.

He pointed his gun at her at first, but quickly realized who she was and made his way over to the shop. She grabbed him by the wrist and, in a split second, dragged him to the back of the store. She slammed the door behind them and pressed her ear against the hard wood, the sound of her heartbeat impossible to ignore in his presence. The room was dark and narrow for the two of them, which made his body press involuntarily against her back.

The voices outside were muffled but distant, and she released a breath. Straightening up, she spun around and was met with his hard stare. His gun was holstered, but his fingers hovered inches above the weapon in case of an emergency. His chest moved slowly, and she gulped.

“The owner of the shop fled as soon as the gunfire began,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper.

A beat of silence passed before he cleared his throat and relaxed slightly.

“Could’ve got yourself killed,” he growled, and she froze.

“I’m sorry, I thought—”

“Ya don’t got a clue, woman.”

His stare was hard, and she averted her eyes, hoping the room was dark enough to hide her embarrassment. She could feel his body shift against hers, and what she assumed was his hand brushed across her hip as he reached for the doorknob. With a twist of his wrist, the door opened, and he peeked outside, his chest pressed against her shoulder. She breathed in slowly, her eyes closing on their own.

After making sure the coast was clear, he cracked the door wide open and stepped outside, with her following. The aftermath of the shootout was indescribable. Shards of glass everywhere, splatters of blood, bullets scattered around the room, footprints. The cans, the apples and carrots, the bread rolls. Her eyes glided around the room in shock, the glass cracking under her feet. She felt something damp on her clothes and gasped when she saw the dark red liquid on her fingers. Her eyes scanned herself, and she quickly realized the blood wasn’t hers.

“You’re bleeding,” she gasped and hurried over to him by the counter.

"Am not," came his short response.

She yanked at his wrist and spun him around so he was now facing her. Her eyes gave him a quick scan and landed on the dark stain forming on his blue shirt. The fabric clung to his body, dripping with blood.

"Don't move," she ordered.

She paced around the counter and ducked down to rummage through the cupboards. It didn’t take her long to find a bottle of whiskey, a needle, and thread.

"Take off your shirt."

"Seriously?" He looked at her in disbelief, and she cocked an eyebrow in return.

With a scoff under his breath, he began untucking and unbuttoning his shirt. She whipped her head to the side to avoid the sight, but her cheeks bloomed with blush at the flash of his skin she managed to catch a glimpse of.

"Ya know, for a woman this small, ya sure got a sharp tongue," he mused as he finished, the blue fabric now resting on his shoulders.

She ignored his comment, ripping a piece of fabric from her skirt and dampening it with the beverage in her hand. Brushing the dried blood around the wound, she pressed a palm to his stomach to keep him still. His muscles tensed under her touch.

"Not from a bullet," she whispered to herself.

She then poured the alcohol on the needle and began sewing the wound on the side of his stomach. Regardless of how painful it must have been for him, he didn’t let out a sound. That made her wonder whether he was real or made of solid rock.

As soon as she was done with her work, she poured the whiskey on the wound and pressed the piece of cloth against his skin. Her gaze gingerly wandered across his toned stomach, and before she could even realize, he began buttoning up his shirt again. She stepped back, watching him dress. The dried blood on her hands made her shiver in disgust, and she mentally cringed at the feeling.

A beat of silence passed, and she could feel the tension lingering in the thick air between them. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of horses and male shouting. In a split second, she was pushed back against a wall, and a hand came to cover her mouth. His body was pressed against hers, and she watched him with fear in her eyes as the voices inched closer to them. The adrenaline coursed through her system, and she opened her mouth to bite the rough skin of his palm. He retrieved his hand with a wince, and she snuck a hand around his neck and brought him down for a kiss.

He didn’t resist, but neither did he surrender until a short while later. His mouth melted against her lips, and his body pressed into hers with more vigor. His hands rubbed the clothed skin above her hips, and her knees nearly buckled, her mind blank. Soon, the voices became more distant, and he pulled away from her, licking his lips. He watched her with lust-blown pupils, and she swore she could see herself in his eyes again.

A hand came to brush a strand of hair away from her face, and there was something unspoken lingering in the air between them that made her feel uneasy but excited at the same time. He observed her face for a moment longer before stepping back and pulling himself away from her completely. Without a word, he gave her a long, almost apologetic look, and with that, he walked away.

And there she was, months later in her room, looking out the window in the hope she’d spot him outside, leading his horse, holstering his gun, or speaking to someone. Months later, after their last encounter, she hadn’t had a clue whether it was all a dream or whether he was real. No knowledge of whether he was alive or dead. And that gnawed at her like a sickness, twisting her guts, her heart heavy. He was all she could think about. His lips, his eyes, his scent, his hair, his touch, his blood, his chest, his shirt, his face. The stain on her shirt, the sound of his heartbeat against her own ribcage, almost as if his heart was in her chest instead. His voice remained engraved in her brain, repeating the few words he had spoken to her. She heard those words nearly as many times as a prayer, if not more. And there was something about that that made her feel ashamed.

A girl of her likes, hopelessly daydreaming about a man when he should be far from her concerns, and all she should concern herself with was God and God only. And she tried. She truly did, but her heart swelled with the heavy weight of love, and there was nothing in this world that would make it vanish.

With a sigh, she shuffled back to bed, letting the covers drape over her waist, and she soon drifted to sleep. What jolted her awake hours later was the faint sound of spurs jingling up the stairs. She was more than sure that her father didn’t own a pair of those and quickly came to the realization that an intruder had invaded their house.

She ruffled the sheets around herself and lay as still as possible to appear as though she was sleeping, hoping the intruder was only there to rob their property. She listened carefully and heard footsteps down the hallway. The slow creaking of the door on the other side of the hall gave her a good idea of where the person was, but then she heard the door shut quietly, and the footsteps now inched closer to her bedroom door. Suddenly, the sound stilled, and there was a pause before the door to her room made a creaking sound and the person on the other side entered. She held her breath to not draw any unwanted attention and squeezed her eyes shut.

The silence that spread across the space made her wonder if the person had actually entered her room, and she dared to turn around in her bed with one eye cracked open. She was met with a dark silhouette, and within a split second, a hand came to rest over her mouth, the other one gripping her hands. She squirmed desperately against the firm grip but soon gave in and surrendered.

"Shhh," cooed a male voice. "Promise ya won’t scream."

He retrieved his hands, and she let out a breath, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. It didn’t take her long to realize who was sitting on her bed, and she gasped in surprise, covering her mouth to muffle the sound.

"Arthur?"

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice, so meek whispering his name, her tone laced with relief. The tips of his fingers prickled, needles as if pushed into his skin, and the feeling of warmth spread inside his ribcage, swallowing his heart and encasing it in a strong grip.

"Couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya."

Her eyebrows knit together, confusion plastered on her face. "How did you find me?"

"Been watchin’ ya for a while now," he whispered, his eyes searching for hers in the dark.

"How come you never said anything?"

He remained silent, the sound of his own pulse and breathing echoing in his ears, and he internally cursed himself.

"It’s been months, Arthur," she cooed and scooted closer to him.

Her hand came to touch his arm, and when he didn’t flinch away, she put her hand on his shoulder, the bare skin of her thighs brushing against his hand propped up on the soft sheets of her bed.

"I know, and I’m sorry," he sighed, disappointment lacing his tone.

The soft thudding of the rain enveloped the two bodies in a soft embrace. Her hands reached up to his head and cupped his face, lips finding his in the safety of her dark room. His body tensed against hers momentarily but soon relaxed, and he let himself melt against her, all of his worries washing away with waves of never-ending foam. For the first time in years, he was able to admit he felt safe. Her embrace was all that mattered. Her voice, her sweet vanilla and lavender scent, her hair, the warmth of her gentle touch that spread across his skin, the rosy cheeks on her face, and her eyes that always looked at him, the two orbs pleading for something unmistakable, were what made him weak. And she was there to wrap her limbs around him, whisper sweet praises into his ear, and tell him everything would be fine.

His strong arms circled her waist, pulling her up against his body. She yelped in surprise but smiled against his lips, her fingers now threading through his hair at the back of his head. The hat on his head toppled over, and she brushed it off of his head with a simple motion, the piece of clothing falling to the hardwood beneath her bed.

"I missed you, Arthur," she mumbled against his lips, a soft whimper escaping her.

"I’m sorry," he breathed again.

His hands settled on the back of her thighs, pulling her on top of his lap, wrapping her limbs around his torso, and then gently setting her down on the bed. Her ankles locked behind his lower back, heels digging into his skin as the bottom of her nightgown rode up her thighs, exposing her already soaked bloomers to his clothed crotch. She mewled against his mouth when his calloused hands kneaded the flesh of her ass, and he didn’t waste a second before slipping his tongue past her lips into her mouth. His teeth then bit her bottom lip, the action making a moan escape her.

His mouth left her lips and kissed along her jawline, his kisses traveling down her neck to her collarbone, leaving a wet trail in their wake. She arched her back off the bed, his palms now gliding to the front of her stomach, raising the thin white fabric of her nightgown up her body. His fingers hooked over the waistband of her bloomers, and he stilled, detaching his lips from her skin and lifting his head to observe her face.

“It’s okay,” she nodded and flashed him a gentle smile, eyes meeting his.

Pressing a tender kiss to the middle of her chest, Arthur dragged her bloomers down with her help, as she raised her hips. The fabric was tossed to the ground, his hand slowly skimming over her thigh up to her core. She squirmed beneath his frame, hands clawing at his chest, nearly ripping his shirt off. With a quick motion, reaching behind his neck, he dragged the shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground, his chest now bare and exposed to her curious sight.

The view made a blush creep up her cheeks, thousands of needles piercing through her skin and burning her flesh. Moments later, he returned to her figure, fingers ghosting over her sensitive skin. She sighed, her vision blank and her rational thinking clouded by nothing but pure wantonness. The hand that was inching closer to her core made her clench around nothing, and she panicked, blinking rapidly and steadying herself against Arthur’s chest. That made him pause.

“Arthur, wait,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eye as he observed her with worry lacing his features. “I’ve never done this before.”

She could hear his breathing pause. Then he cleared his throat, seemingly taken aback by her sudden confession. He’d lie if he said it didn’t turn him on. The idea of someone like him — an outlaw, a criminal, a bad man — ruining someone like her — so sweet, pure, and innocent — sparked a flame in the pit of his stomach and made his cock harden.

Her chest rumbled with a silent sob, and Arthur’s hand immediately came up to cup her face, soothing her.

“It’s alright,” he cooed into her ear, thumbs rubbing her cheeks. “Ya still wanna do this?”

She nodded in his grasp, and he let out a puff of hot air. He pulled her into a gentle kiss, their lips locking as his hands traced down her curves until they reached her hips. “I wanna do this right.”

Arthur looked down at her, their lips now separated, and she nodded hastily. Her legs spread around his torso, baring her cunt to him, and he sighed. His practiced hands glided down her stomach, caressing her tender flesh until she felt his finger swipe across her folds, her breath catching in her throat. Oh.

To say she had never felt anything like this before would be an understatement. His fingers felt so different—thicker than hers and working with more precision. He eyed her reaction, a small smile tugging at his lips, and he silently thanked the Lord above that the room was dark enough to hide his smirk.

She released a shaky breath when his thumb pressed on her clit, circling that bundle of nerves slowly. Her hands came to rest atop his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as if to prolong the little stimulation he was providing. Another swipe of his digit, and he slid his finger between her folds.

Time became irrelevant. Nothing could compare to the feeling of him shielding her body from the keen eye of the Lord above in the sky, watchful. The feeling of his hand, gently rocking into her with every thrust of his finger, working her open for him. She mewled and pawed at his chest, the only thing resonating in her ears being the timbre of his voice.

“Good girl,” he drawled into her ear.

Her lips sought out his, their mouths locking in a hungry kiss as he swallowed the moans escaping her throat. Praises, whispers, sighs, and groans — it all bled into her skin like ink, ruining her. Yet it all felt so incredibly good. But then the guilt, punched deep in her gut, enveloped her chest — doing something sinful, filthy, forbidden. She couldn’t blame Eve for eating that apple.

Her brain could barely form coherent sentences, let alone think, when his hand pulled away from her core and grasped her hip to pull her up against him. Her bare cunt brushed against his clothed erection, and she hissed in surprise at the impact. His nimble fingers busied themselves with unbuttoning his pants, freeing his length from the tightness of his work pants. Arthur then pressed their hips together, the underside of his cock rubbing against the hooded bundle of nerves slotted between her legs, and she gasped.

Coating himself in her moisture, Arthur spat into his palm, gripping himself at hand and giving his cock a few firm strokes. His length, blood-darkened and with precum weeping from the tip, slid down her slit, her inner thighs slick with her wetness too. His eyes searched for hers, seeking any type of discomfort scattered across her features but finding none. He leaned down, looming over her, and pressed a gentle peck to her temple.

“Relax, I’m gonna enter you now, okay?” he spoke, leaning his forehead against hers and craning his head down to watch the head of his cock catch at the rim of her cunt. “Ya tell me if it hurts.”

“Ar-Arthur,” she stuttered at the sudden stretch.

With a gentle rock of his hips, he slowly worked himself inside of her. Slowly, inch by inch. And with every barely audible sound she made, he dotted her forehead with soft pecks. The pressure in her stomach suddenly snapped, and she moaned in pain, her walls constricting around him and her nails digging into his skin.

“It’s alright, I’m here,” he soothed, his thumb rubbing gentle patterns above her hip.

The world, as if, stopped for a second. She craned her neck and watched him slowly disappear inside her. The sight of him slotted between her legs was beyond sinful; she’d have to make sure to pray extra hard for God to forgive her. The line of his muscles on his stomach tensed, his biceps flexing underneath her touch, the strands of hair glued to his forehead and framing his beautiful face. She gawked at him with lust-blown pupils and had to try her utmost best not to melt under his gaze.

Moments passed, and he began to gently rock his hips back and forth, all the while whispering sweet praises of how good she was taking him. Arthur lowered himself closer to her, his face now pressed to the crook of her neck, his warm breath fanning over the pale, thin skin. She felt safe beneath him, his tall figure covering her whole, and her walls swallowed him to the hilt at the thought of being significantly smaller than him.

He rolled his hips into her firmly, delivering a gentle thrust into her core, and her breath got stuck in her throat, eyes slowly tearing up at the apprehensive feeling. Arthur’s hard chest brushed against her sensitive nipples, and she lulled her head back, letting it rest against the pillow beneath her head. He groaned into her neck, puckering the skin above her collarbone with his lips as if to enhance his thrusting.

Her vision suddenly blurred, and she arched her back off the mattress, her pussy clenching down on him with a wail escaping her mouth. The coil in the pit of her stomach turned upside down and then, without warning, snapped. Her hands clawed at his shoulders, the feeling of his cock sheathed inside her fully bringing her a sense of something she couldn’t possibly describe.

“Good girl, there ya go,” he crooned.

He raised his head from her neck, lips catching hers to swallow her moans, and with his thrusts quickly faltering, he pulled out of her completely, stroking his cock with his hand before he released his spend over her bare stomach, a groan filling her mouth.

The room suddenly fell calm, not silent, as the sound of their rapid breathing coming down resonated across the space. He collapsed on top of her, the spend on her stomach smearing across his own, but that was the last thing on his mind at that moment. Arthur’s hand lifted to her face, cupping her cheek and bringing her in for a gentle kiss before he rolled to the side and exhaled deeply.

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART ONE

"trying to play it coy, trying to make it disappear"

⚠️ new series alert! ⚠️ and also my 1k follower celebration!!! (altho it might as well be the 2k celebration now considering how fast my following has grown. thank you ;-;) i polled my followers a little while ago to choose between 3 different fic premises and this one was the winner! it was originally meant to be a stand alone but i'm actually more interested in making it a brand new series, so i hope you guys enjoy! i'm not exactly sure how many parts this will be yet, i'll let you know when i do. title and lyrics are from 'bad liar' by selena gomez.

summary: you're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you. (no outbreak, no use of y/n) rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: (for this fic in general) age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, dirty old man joel, corruption (but it's consensual), praise kink, dirty talk, general smut, mentions of religion (reader's family are very catholic) -- (for this chapter) wet dreams, mentions of masturbation. word count: 5k ao3

The sun is warm and pleasant on your bare skin as you lay out in the freshly mown grass of your backyard, absorbing the heat and smiling languidly despite the humidity. You're grateful for your family's wealth on days like today, knowing that at any moment you could take a few steps and dive headfirst into the cool water of your pool, fresh and inviting. It's been about a month since you returned and you've spent almost every day outside among the green grass, the chlorinated water, the burning Texas sun. It's been heaven.

The backdoor suddenly swings open and your father's voice booms out into the backyard, "Family meeting," he states, loud and serious, "Five minutes."

Or hell.

With a groan you slowly sit up, hands digging into the thin towel laid out beneath you. You know better than to ignore an order like that. Being back from college for the summer has certainly had it's perks; no annoying roommates, no loud parties, a large backyard and pool to yourself, but having to deal with your parents again certainly isn't one of them. You'd thought coming back after three years might have softened them a bit, lowered their guard, made them less strict. Instead, it's almost had the opposite effect.

You slide into your flip flops and walk begrudgingly inside the house, making note of your mother standing anxiously by the stove with her arms crossed. What's the issue now? At least once a week your father calls these "family meetings", which always pertain to you and only you, seeing as you're their only child. Last week they'd spent half an hour berating you about forgetting to put the garbage out, the week before they'd tried to explain the importance of an early bed time to you, like you were seven.

You're a grown woman, a full fledged adult. Sure, you're only twenty one, you're unemployed, you're currently in the process of obtaining an arts degree that probably won't secure you anything tangible in the real world, but you're an adult nonetheless. You only have one year left of school before you can leave all this behind and start fresh somewhere else. You'd thought coming back home for one more summer would bring nostalgia and happiness, a few months of normality before life exploded in front of you.

Turns out your parents had pictured something different.

Your father gestures toward the kitchen table, urging for you to sit. You hate when they do this, make you feel small and childish while they both stand above you and reiterate rules they've had your whole life, rules that apparently you'll never grow out of. You wonder what rule you've broken now.

"We've noticed that you barely leave the house," your father begins, voice deep and authoritative, "We were under the impression that when you came home you'd be spending time with old friends, doing some volunteering again."

"Going to church," your mother adds beside him, a frown permanently etched on her face, "You've only gone twice since you've been here."

Call the cops, you think to yourself, forcibly holding back an eyeroll. Ironically your father is a police officer, and you highly doubt he'd ever come if you called.

"Instead, you just spend all your time in that backyard," he continues, nodding along with your mother, "We didn't invite you back to simply laze around all summer, there have been clear expectations you're not meeting."

You take a deep breath, feeling a hint of anger and stubbornness burning in the pit of your stomach. You shove it down, back to that secret hiding place you've cultivated throughout all these years of having to deal with them.

"I'm sorry, dad," you say, trying to sound as earnest as possible as you look to him and then your mother, "Sorry, mom."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, we need to see action," your father replies quickly, brow furrowed, "No more lounging around in the backyard on weekdays, that's a weekend activity from now on, we clear?"

You nod, "Clear."

"We want you to get involved in something," your mom takes a step forward, places her hand awkwardly on your shoulder, "Why don't you call Bethany? She's always looking for more helpers at Sunday School, or maybe Alice? I hear she's been volunteering at the soup kitchen for the summer."

You haven't spoken to either Bethany or Alice since you left for university three years ago. The thought of calling them, let alone having to work with them in either setting, makes you feel ill. You nod again, pretending to agree.

"That sounds good, I'll call them tomorrow morning," Both of your parents smile, appeased, "I think I'll go for a walk now, if that's okay. Clear my head, think about things I can do to improve."

"That's the spirit," your dad says, wrapping an arm around your mother, "Remember, be back before dinner or the door will be locked."

"I know," you nod, forcing a smile, "I won't forget."

--

Well, that's it, then. You'll have to leave.

It sounds dramatic to say that your parents telling you to get off your ass is enough to send you packing, but it goes so much deeper than that. You've spent your entire life doing everything these people say, nodding and smiling when you're meant to, apologizing for everything, doing anything you can to appease and impress them. You'd spent your high school years in youth choir, church group, organizing fundraisers, studying your ass off, tutoring, joining as many extracurriculars as possible until you had no free time. And even then, nothing ever seemed to be enough for them.

When you'd left for college they'd both cried at the airport, held you in their arms and told you with sincerity that they'd miss you so much. Your mother had kissed your face and held your hands and your father had hugged you for the first time since you were eleven years old. And because of their sudden burst of emotions, of affection, you'd actually missed them once you left. You remember you'd cried on the plane, scrolling through pictures of them on your phone until the battery died, thinking to yourself that maybe they weren't the horrible, authoritarian people you thought they were.

They called you once a week while you were at college, asking for updates, telling you they missed you, giving you neighborhood gossip that made you laugh and feel nostalgic for home. Being away from them, it was like they suddenly became two entirely new people, bonded together by their suddenly empty nest and seemingly trying to do right by you now, even if it felt a little too late. You'd thought about coming home a few times for a visit, but the memories that triggered the anger in the pit of your stomach kept you from doing so. You'd kept them at arm's length until you felt ready to come back.

And now you're back, and nothing has changed. They're the same people they always were, expecting too much of you, thinking they can control you, never quite believing that you're trying your best. You'd told them before you came that you just wanted to relax this summer, spend some time at home, maybe meet up with some old friends - keyword being maybe - and they'd seemed totally on board with the idea. There had been no mentions of keeping busy, no mentions of Sunday School or soup kitchens or rules. Then you'd arrived and realized how stupid you'd been to believe that they could ever change.

Your entire life you've been their perfect girl, their A+ student who volunteered and read bible verses and tutored the neighborhood kids, sacrificed your happiness more times than you can count for the sake of keeping them satisfied. But that's the thing: they're not satisfied, and they never will be.

Your flip flops smack against the concrete of your suburban street, sun beginning to set in the distance as you think about how exactly you're going to escape this hell. Yeah, you could just walk out the front door without a word, but it's not like you have anywhere to go or the money to do it. You have your plane ticket for your return flight back to school, but it's not 'til September and it's under your father's name. Your family might be wealthy but none of that wealth has ever gone directly into your pocket, and you doubt it ever will if you just bail on them in the middle of the night with no warning.

Your thoughts scatter when you hear someone call out your name nearby. Your head swivels and you see one of your neighbors, Mrs. Lillard, waving from her front porch. You wave back, give her a small smile.

"How's college treatin' ya?" she calls to you, taking a sip from a bottle of beer, "Got a boyfriend?"

Your cheeks warm immediately and shake your head, "Not yet!" you call back.

"I bet you're battin' 'em all away," her voice is slurred and you're sure that's probably not her first beer of the day, "Nobody's good enough for ya, huh?"

"I guess," you say awkwardly, continuing to walk and hoping she won't ask you to join her for a beer, "How's your husband?"

"Pain in my ass," she responds with a grunt and takes another swig, "Bet you can't wait to have your own white picket fence, perfect as you are."

Her words make you uncomfortable but you just give her your signature fake laugh and flip your hair, waving again, "Bye, Mrs. Lillard."

Your face falls as soon as you turn around, anger burning again. You've spent so much of your life being the picture perfect little suburban girl, doing everything your parents say, saying your prayers and reading to the elderly, killing yourself to get straight A's and only speaking when spoken to. Your reputation is widely known around the neighborhood; the sweet little girl, the pure and innocent God fearing angel. You've portrayed yourself as that girl for so long that you almost don't know which part of you is real anymore.

You keep walking down the street, eyeing the sunset as you go and wondering what would happen if you just didn't go back home tonight. As your father had said, he locks the door every night after dinner; you don't have a key, you've never had a key. You're only allowed into your house on the basis of trust and good merit. If you just refused to go back tonight, how would they react? The thought of doing something like that sends a warm flush of rebellion across your skin, eyes bright with intrigue. But where would you go?

You turn the corner and your nose is suddenly hit with the delectable scent of a barbecue, smokey and delicious. You slow a bit, closing your eyes and breathing in the warm air, stomach growling. You suddenly realize that if you don't go home tonight you'll also miss dinner. Another rule broken. You keep walking, trying to follow the scent like some kind of bloodhound. Maybe you know whoever's cooking and they'll invite you to eat with them.

A few houses down you start to hear the sound of music. There must be a party going on, a birthday or some other special occasion. It's only as you get closer to the sound that you realize it's not being played from a speaker or stereo, but from someone's front porch; a real guitar, live and acoustic.

You approach the house in question and see a man sitting on his front step, guitar in hand as he strums a steady tune. He's looking down, watching his fingers, monitoring his movements, but you see dark brown curls with hints of grey peppered throughout, a stubbled jaw line and curved nose. You slow your speed, furrowing your brow as you try to place him. You're not sure you've ever seen him before.

His music is calm and inviting, a plucky sounding tune that seems vaguely familiar. You're suddenly filled with intrigue, trying to place the song and slowing to a complete stop in front of the house without meaning to. You watch the man's callused fingers pick away at the strings, fast and professional, like he's been doing this for years. He probably has.

You're still trying to place the song, biting your lip and swiping through songs in your mind like an invisible rolodex. Johnny Cash? Bob Dylan? It sounds like one of those songs your parents would forbid you to listen to as a kid, the ones with devil worship in their lyrics, sung by bad men who didn't believe in God. You'd always questioned this logic, wondered how songs about living out in the country or falling in love could be inherently against your religion. They didn't even listen to it, just blindly told you it was against the rules.

Suddenly the man stops playing and you realize the song has come to an end. He looks up then, notices you standing there at the end of his walk with your furrowed brow and flip flops. His eyes are brown, expression startled at first but then fading into something softer as he gives you a small smile.

"Been there long?" he asks, voice crackling slightly, like he hasn't spoken much today.

You shake your head quickly, "I'm sorry, I heard you playing and I-"

"S'alright," he replies strumming his guitar absentmindedly and giving you a shrug, "I don't mind an audience."

He's southern, definitely a Texan, but you're sure you've never met him before. His face and voice are unfamiliar to you, but certainly not unwelcome. He's older, probably in his 40s or even 50s, but he's handsome and slightly boyish in a way despite his greying hair and freckled skin. He reminds you of one of those men on album covers your father had slammed down one day in the record store when you were nine, yelled at you in front of everyone that the men who made that music were filthy sinners. It hadn't stopped you from listening to them, though, curiosity getting the better of you.

Is that who you're looking at now? A filthy sinner?

"You okay?" he asks slowly, tilting his head. You realize you're just staring at him, gathering your thoughts.

You shake your head again quickly, feeling yourself blush under his gaze, "Sorry," you repeat, "I'm uh, I was just passing by and I heard you playing that song. It sounded really familiar."

He gives you a crooked smile and a nod, "Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan."

"I knew it was Bob Dylan," you say, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. That song was from one of the albums you'd listened to in secret, one of the only times you'd had to delete your browser history. You feel pride swell in your chest at the smile you elicit from the man in response, like he's recognizing a fellow music lover.

"Good ear," he continues to lightly pluck at the strings of his guitar, "You play?"

"Um, not really." It's a half truth but mainly a lie, you've never played in your life. You feel slightly disappointed in yourself and you're not sure why; it's not like you've ever felt any kind of urge to learn, especially considering your parents would've made sure you only learned appropriate songs. When would you have even found the time between all your extracurriculars?

"Well, it ain't difficult," he starts playing the song again, slower this time, "Pretty repetitive chord progression, room for some adlibbin' here and there once you get the hang of it."

You nod like you understand what he's talking about, suddenly lost in the way his fingers pull at the strings, make the music come to life out of nothing. His hands are big, fingers long and thick as they curve back and forth, up and down. It's hypnotic to watch. He stops again and looks up, catches you staring.

"How old are you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You swallow, unsure what exactly the right answer is. Part of you wants to lie, tell him you're older than you actually are so he doesn't just see you as some bright eyed kid. This is the first person you've encountered since coming back who doesn't know who you are, doesn't know about your reputation. You could tell him anything, be anyone, and he'd take it at face value.

"I'm twenty five," you lie, but it sounds unnatural in your mouth.

He looks you up and down, eyes raking your body in a way you're unfamiliar with. Like a man. Like the way your roommates back in college get looked at, sensually and flirtatiously, being eyed up by drunk guys at the bar who only have one thing on their mind. You feel your heart begin to thrum quicker in your chest; is that really how this man is looking at you? This grown man, not a high school crush or a college fratboy, a real man?

"Sweetheart, we both know that's a lie," he says with a chuckle, eyes coming back to rest on your face, "I'd guess twenty."

You make a face, "I'm twenty one, actually."

He laughs again, putting his hands up in surrender, "My bad, twenty one."

You watch as he starts to strum once again, something new and unfamiliar. You listen for a few moments, eyes trained back on his fingers, watching him play.

"You wanna come in for a bit?" he asks, voice nonchalant, like he's asking you something completely casual.

And maybe he is, but the words make your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat. The way he'd looked at you just then, laughed at your words, wanted to know your age... now he's inviting you into his house? You've never actually been flirted with before, not when it mattered, and you're not entirely sure if that's what's happening. But it feels like it, even though you can't imagine how someone like him could see anything sexy about a girl like you.

"...Why?" you ask quietly.

He looks up at you with another smile, still plucking the strings, "If you need to ask then maybe I read you wrong," he chuckles again, eyes trailing down your legs and taking in your short dress, the way it stops at your knees, "Now that I really look at you, maybe I'm talkin' to a good Christian girl."

"You're not," you say it too quickly, "I mean, I'm not. I'm not a good Christian girl."

"No?" he smirks, "Don't have a good southern daddy waitin' for you to come home? Momma waitin' with a pie in the oven?" he's not being serious but you feel your skin flush at the accuracy of his words.

"Maybe," you mutter, hand going down to touch your dress nervously, "But maybe I don't wanna go home."

He nods and stops plucking, licking his lips and thinking to himself. You have to admit, there's something about him that draws you to him, something masculine and new. He's much, much older than you but not in a way that creeps you out or makes you want to run away. You find yourself hoping he'll ask you to come inside again so this time you can give him the right answer, the one he wants to hear.

"You probably should," he finally says, then stands up on his porch steps and slips his guitar onto his back. The strap digs into his broad shoulders, accentuating his size as he suddenly towers over you on the step.

"Sh-should what?" you ask breathlessly, and you wonder if he can tell your heart race has picked up, see the thumping of your pulse in your exposed neck.

"Go back home," he says with a shrug, "I mean, if they're waitin' for you..."

"They're not," you say it with firm finality, shaking your head, "I'm twenty one, I do what I like."

He walks down the steps then, getting closer and closer to you until he's suddenly standing directly in front of you. His eyes cast downward, assessing your expression; you swear he looks at your lips and licks his own again.

"So would you like to come inside?" he asks again, peering down at you with a dark sense of desire that makes you swallow roughly, feel a light and steady thrum between your legs, "Let me teach you how to play that song?"

Here's your chance. Just say yes.

"N-no," you gasp, taking a step back from him, "Um, n-not today."

He smirks, almost like he knew that would be your response. He hitches his guitar up his shoulder and gives you one last smile before turning around and walking back up his steps.

"Well, I'm here if you change your mind," he calls back to you, reaching for the doorknob on his front door and peering at you with another side glance, still assessing you, "Would love to teach a pretty thing like you how to use her fingers."

You feel your lips part in surprise, an unfamiliar tingling sensation flooding your body as he gives you a wink and walks into his house, shutting the door behind him. You've still got that steady throbbing feeling in your underwear, something you've only felt a handful of times. You know what it is, you're not completely clueless, but you can't remember the last time it happened.

You take another step back slowly, heart still pounding in your chest as you stare at his closed door. Then you turn on your heel and speed walk back the way you came, flip flops slapping against the ground aggressively. You revel in the way your thighs rub together as you walk, soothing that ache.

Any thoughts of not going home have gone from your mind. You need to ask your parents who this man is. As soon as possible.

-

You get home right before dinner, giving yourself just enough time to formulate exactly how to ask your parents about the man with the guitar. You're slightly afraid that you might seem too eager, too curious, and that they'll see right through you; you can't imagine how they'd react to knowing their perfect little girl is getting butterflies over a middle aged man.

But that's what you have: butterflies. In your tummy, all over your skin, between your legs. Being talked to the way he did, being looked at the way he did, it's making you feel hot all over, itchy and uncomfortable but in a good way.

The last time you felt this way was during your first week of college, at a party you'd gone to with your roommate. You'd seen him across the room, tall and blonde, watched as he licked his lips and looked you up and down. He was gorgeous, an angel you were convinced God had placed at this party just for you. You felt that tingle between your legs, swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat and imagined what it would be like to be kissed by him.

Then he'd approached and you realized he'd been looking at your roommate the entire time.

Your mother is just beginning to plate the meal when you slip into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table beside your father. She serves you both with a smile and sits, then extends her hands to both of you.

"Bless us, O Lord, for these, Thy gifts," she begins quietly, and you quickly hang your head and close your eyes as she continues, "which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

"Amen," you and your dad echo, then begin your meal. Just the same as always.

"How was your walk?" your father asks.

Here goes nothing.

"It was nice," you say, nodding thoughtfully to yourself and hoping you sound nonchalant, "I said hi to Mrs. Lillard."

"We've been praying for her," your mom interjects immediately, "She's an alcoholic, you know."

Your mom stays on top of all the neighborhood gossip, part of the reason you feel she might know something about the mysterious man. With a nod of your head you continue, "And then I saw someone else, a man playing guitar on his front porch, but I've never seen him before."

"Oh, him" your mom rolls her eyes, "Mr. Miller. Piece of work."

Bingo.

Your eyebrows raise, intrigued, "How so?"

"Kindness, dear," your father says with a disapproving nod to your mother, "He's done nothing to us."

She sighs and shakes her head, "You're right, I'm sorry."

The conversation is definitely going somewhere but it's already taking a turn into dangerous territory; you're not one to question, to interfere or interject. Pressing them further might make them suspicious, but you have to know.

"What did he do?" you ask, trying your best to sound casual, "If you don't mind me asking?"

Your mother is about to speak but your father gives her a look, almost a warning. She closes her mouth and sits back in her chair, waiting for him to answer you instead.

"He didn't do anything," your father explains, "Your mother invited him for dinner and he declined, that's all."

"It's the way he declined," your mother sits forward again, voice curt and irritated, "He was very rude."

"Rude?" You can tell your mom wants to talk about it, dredge up something she hasn't been able to discuss for a while; you're surprised she hadn't already told you over the phone while you were at college.

"This isn't appropriate conversation for the dinner table," your father says sternly, and you're not sure if he's talking more-so to you or your mother, "End of discussion." As usual your mother folds in on herself, picking up her fork and starting to eat again.

"Your father's right," she says, though you know she doesn't really believe that, "Let's just eat."

You wonder what the man - Mr. Miller - could have said to make your mother react this way. It's not unusual for her to get stiff and bothered by people - it's pretty easy to push her buttons, actually, but the list of things that offend her is long and detailed. He could have said pretty much anything to set her off. The specifics are lost on you.

You resign yourself to defeat and eat your dinner, sincerely glad that the tingling sensations in your body have subsided. You do not need to be feeling like that with your parents in the room.

-

You dream about him.

It's muddled and confusing, taking place simultaneously back at college and in your childhood bedroom, but he's there. In both places, somehow. You're back at that first week of college party, but instead of the blonde boy it's him standing across the room, eyeing you up and down. But this time he doesn't go for your roommate, he walks over to you and looks deeply into your eyes, gives you that delicious smirk and brings his hands down to touch your waist. He's so big compared to you, so much older. He pulls you in with a strong grasp and holds you to his broad chest, runs his hands down your back.

Then you're both transported from the college party to your parent's house. You're on your bed, sitting next to him atop the covers and watching him play guitar. You watch his fingers, long and thick, hypnotizing you with their movements. He stops playing and brings one to your chin, tilts your head up to look into your eyes again.

"You're not a good Christian girl," he whispers in that southern drawl, breath ghosting across your face, inching closer and closer, "You're all mine, aren't you?"

You wake up with a start and immediately feel the dampness in your underwear, the butterflies back again with a vengeance as your pussy throbs and pulses. You've never felt anything like this before, grasping your chest and reaching for your bedside lamp in the darkness. You sit there in bed for a few moments, catching your breath and waiting for the feelings to vanish again, for your aching core to stop reminding you that it's never been touched, not once, even though you know it's absolutely begging for it.

With shaky hands you reach down and run a finger through your wet folds, shivering at the soft touch. You've never masturbated before, never had sex or anything else you've learned about from your friends at college. They'd looked at you with disbelief when you'd told them you'd never even had an orgasm; one of them had gone so far as to ask if she could give you one.

"No," you'd said curtly, "No thank you."

Now you sit on your childhood bed with your legs open and a finger pressed lightly against you within your underwear. You're not even sure what to do, where exactly to touch, how to bring yourself to completion. You're twenty one years old but you've spent your entire life being the good, pure, God fearing girl waiting for marriage like her parents taught her.

"Enough," you whisper into the darkness, "I'm done waiting."

You yank your finger out of your panties and lay back on the bed, switching off the lamp and closing your eyes again. You've already decided before you drift off that you'll be paying Mr. Miller another visit tomorrow, as soon as possible.

He told you he wanted to teach you how to use your fingers; you intend to make sure he does.

[iheartsebastianmichaelis]

𖤐 Sebastian Michaelis NSFW Alphabet 𖤐

⚠️: minors dni, AFAB + GN reader, rough sex, corruption kink, mentions of religion, kinda gaslighting/manipulation, etc.

> word count:  2.4k words

A: Aftercare (what is he like after sex)

he will treat you delicately after having caused such a mess in the bedroom. we know that despite being a demon, Sebastian was trained enough to act like a gentleman and in addition he is very loyal to his "butler aesthetic". so, you can expect him to begin caressing your shoulders or back, leaving kisses in any love bite, cleaning you up with a warm towel and offering you a bath or a light drink. it's up to you if he stays right by your side while you sleep or not, because he'll only follow your commands.

B: Body part (favorite body part of his and also his partner's)

his favorite part of his body is his eyes. if you watched the series then you know what i'm talking about: Sebastian is a very expressive being. throughout the anime and manga you can see that his body language is normally expressed with his eyes and face lol, from sarcasm to even a threat. he knows the weight that his eyes have with his words and -for your bad or good luck- he also knows how to annoy or tease you with that. you can expect off-color comments said with the sweetest look and so on, escalating to a look that eats you alive, his feline eyes mocking your vulnerability to his touches and the slit on his eyes reaching deep into your soul, reminding you that he is not human.

his favorite part of you is your neck and back. he likes to leave bites, marks and kisses in discreet places. You don't want other people to find out that you're doing wrong things with your butler. how indecent of you, right? He can spend hours nibbling and sucking your skin, wanting to leave it as a witness to how much he pleases you. he's not pleased that you only carry the mark of the contract, he chuckles knowing that your skin wants him.

C: Cum (anything to do with it)

he really doesn't care. Sebastian knows that you both can't reproduce because of the difference between species, so many times he takes the liberty of cumming inside you. he loves the sight of his cum spilling out of your body while you try to catch your breath, but if you have a problem with that he will listen to you. he has no complaints about doing it outside because he doesn't mind cleaning you up afterwards either. just keep in mind that your face, torso and legs can be possible destinations to end up smeared with his sticky liquid.

so whether you want it or not, you're always going to end up with his cum somewhere <3

D: Dirty secret

Sebastian is known for being someone who is quite calm and collected... when it comes to sexual situations. but his dirty secret is that he likes to impregnate his scent on you. being by your side for a long time it is normal for the smell of his cologne to stick to you. obviously this happens when you're not wearing perfume. he likes it when people say to you "hey, your smell is very strong. have you been with Sebastian for a long time?" he LAUGHS because he knows it's something you can't blame him for, it's his way of marking his territory with his favorite food.

E: Experience (how experienced is he? does he knows what he is doing?)

we all know this one,, please who are we to lie to ourselves. he already fucked a nun, a beast tamer and probably a nurse in BoA. we don't know certainly about his preferences since this bastard can shape shift so he can be a woman, a man and basically do whatever he wants. but back to the main point, he has a LOT of experience. so you don't have to be afraid of this man to be an amateur because he isn't. he. is. so. gifted. he knows exactly how to move and place his tongue, fingers or dick to make you scream and cry in pleasure.

F: Favorite position

the pretzel. he just likes the idea of ​​having you with no chance to escape, turn around, or stop seeing your face. when he's on top of you he can see how you squirm with each thrust he gives you and how your hips can barely move due to how trapped they are between his, so you can only wait to receive his thrusts and slowly lose control. however, i think he is also a big fan of doggy. our friend beast can confirm that :))

G: Goofy (is he more serious in the moment? is he humorous? etc.)

we all know that this man is so silly but when it comes to sex he is serious. like he puts his shit together and tease you but in a provocative/sensual way.

H: Hair (how well groomed he is?)

it's obviously black like the rest of his hair. and even if it doesn't grow much down there, he still shaves it to make things easier.

I: Intimacy (how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect)

okay since he is a hell's creature,, come on we can't pretend anymore that he has deep human feelings, like i'm trying to stick to canon with this shit so im sorry if i break your fanon sebastian but this man is mean. he obviously knows how to treat his bedroom partner, so you can wait for him to kiss you, whisper pleasant things and praise you and your body. that's how it is when he is slow. but when he is wild he will make fun of you, humiliate you and even more things but ONLY IF you allow him to.

J: Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

to be honest, i don't think Sebastian has a need to masturbate. he sees it as something that will not fully satisfy him and that can put him in a worse mood. that is, he can easily hold out until he can be with you. i'd like to talk about his libido later, so I'll hold back a bit on this point.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

okay i've been into black butler fandom for so long and maybe y'all can expect him to be into pet play just becuase he likes cats but im sorry i don't think so. this man has a corruption kink. he likes to see you lose yourself with his body, he wants you to forget everything you know and give yourself to him. even forgetting about the god you used to worship, so he is willingly open to teach you all about hell, pleasure and all that his demonic being can give.

he has also creampie?? kink. bassy enjoys filling you up with his cum if you don't have problems with it. he likes to make a mess with you.

L: Location (favorite places to do the do)

another thing he doesn't really care. it's more like you choose where and when, but if you are a fan of exhibitionism remember he is a butler and has to look after your public image. so he will suggest you to do it in a more private place. but speaking of his preferences, his favourite place would be your room, as it is more comfortable than a butler's room...

M: Motivation (what turns him on?)

boldness. he finds funny and teasing when you're mad at him and yell. unlike Ciel (whom OBVIOUSLY he has no attraction whatsoever), he finds your tantrums or insults attractive. especially when you seem to forget that you're talking to the devil, treating him like he's something less than you. he likes how cheeky your words are, because he knows that he is capable of leaving you in tears and your body completely lost in pleasure with his simple touch. he likes to show you that he is the one who will always win, but he likes to give you your moment.

N: No (something he wouldn't do, turn offs)

Sebastian won't disobey you. an order is an order and he is there to fulfil yours. he maybe try to manipulate you to change your opinion in a discreet way, but if you don't give up with your decision/command he wouldn't interfere unless there's a serious matter or something he don't be fully comfortable with.

one of his turn offs is when you're goofy. like okay he can stand a joke but he doesn't like when you're so unserious in the bed.

O: Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

HE. IS. THE. ULTIMATE. ORAL. GIVER.

oh my god i'm so glad we all sebastian stans agree that his tongue is REALLY something. he even said in season one that he can can roll a cherry cookie with his tongue and i don't fucking care if the dolls chapter it's not canon. but anyway, that shit is long as fuuuuck. he even needs to hold your legs so you don't close them when he is working on you. he likes to tease you while sucking, licking or biting in your sweet zone. he makes louder (slurping and wet) noises to embarrass you, looking at you smirking with his 🤨 face and even more things that secretly makes him chuckle like the mf he is.

oh and did i mention?? that he loves??? when you grab his hair and pull him closer??? well if you're not tied you SHOULD do something come on.

ah, yes.

he also likes see you struggling with his dick.

"my my, sounds like someone's having trouble. oh dear, be careful not to choke"

but when you get used to it he gently will grab your hair and move your head at his own pace.

P: Pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

no way this man can go slow at least is your first time; once he starts the main act he left his polite side and release the beast inside of him. it will go at a fast and merciless pace, raising one of your legs for better access and won't hesitate to pound on your entrance until you lose your senses. take for sure that you'll end up crying of pleasure and this mf couldn't care less, he'll stop until you beg him for it. we can say that he'd be into rough sex.

Q: Quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

remember his dirty secret? well, he likes the possibility of others knowing about your little secret. you probably have to ask for it because he is so busy with his butler duties, u know.

but he won't deny it to you since he can make it fastly, so you don't have to worry that much 👍

R: Risk (is he game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

since there is no risk of pregnancy, the only one he MAYBE take is public sex. because if we remember in book of murder he said that he showed his body to humans so shamelessly. so i don't think he is into that, and like i said before even if youre into exhibitionism he'll always suggest a private and quieter place.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long do they last?)

this is more like "how many rounds can YOU go for" because he is full of energy and he won't stop until you ask him for it. like after hours of making it he'd be completely normal while you're exhausted.

T: Toys (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?)

he don't use them that often but he doesn't mind them and he probably uses them more on you than him. Sebastian likes to see your different reactions to them, and maybe he'd even like to add them while you fuck.

U: Unfair (how much he like to tease)

oh my fucking god this dude is the definition of tease and provocation. do i need to mention how this man rizz with people? playing with his hand and fingers running along their bodies and whispering into their ears with a sweet tone.

also you can look for DIRTY TALK. this bitch won't shut up and will leave you completely shocked or scared like "what does he means with this??" "why does he just said that seriously??"

V: Volume (how loud he is, what sounds he make, etc.)

he is not very loud, but not quiet either. he usually lets out a few sighs, but what comes out the most are grunts and gasps.

W: Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

even though he can't feel love, i could say that he cares about his master. therefore, he does not want other possible demons to take possession of his human. so yes, Sebastian is (extremely) jealous but only of other demons, because he doesn't give a fuck about other humans lol so i think it would be better defined as marking his territory.

X: X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

i need a big boy, you need a big boy, we need a big boy and fortunately for all of us Sebastian is there for that. he is almost 2 meters and you can't tell me that you expect to that shit to be small. is thick and long, with a sensitive spot on the base ;) you'll probably whine and mewl struggling with it even when it's not fully inside.

Y: Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

it's complicated to explain... okay he is a demon that can't feel libido by himself since he isn't attracted to humans' body but their souls. but does that stops him to feel pleasure? absolutely not. this man probably won't wants to fuck you himself, you NEED to ask him for it because he is your butler after all. he only follow your orders.

but there are days when his human body wants to make it with you, so he'll insists so you can give him the command. so we can say that is low but when you turn him on he's gonna behave like the playboy he is.

Z: Zzz (how quickly he fall asleep afterwards)

who told you that demons sleep? Sebastian sees that as a luxury. he doesn't need sleep, it's more like you want him to stay by your side hugging you and pretending to sleep, but like almost everything Sebastian does, this also depends on his master's boundaries :)

this is my first time writing something spicy lol so i really doubt i did it well and english isn't my first language but i really hope y'all can like this shit 😭😭 i hope i can bring more mature content about bassy :))

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: FELIX X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: DEMON!FLELIX, ANGEL!READER, CORRUPTION, RELIGION(?), SUPERNATURAL ABILITIES, SIR KINK, (1) FACE SLAP, BONDAGE, BONDAGE BED, TOYS, (1) TIT SLAP, PET NAMES (ANGEL, HUN, DOLL, LITTLE ONE,), SPIT, ORAL (M. RECEIVING), FACE FUCKING, CUM EATING/SHARING, CUM SHOTS, FINGER SUCKING UNPROTECTED SEX, AFTERCARE, LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED SOMETHING ☾ ━━━ WC: 2.8K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     They shouldn’t have met. Angels and demons rarely ever met. Maybe once in a millennium. But never as much as Y/n and Felix met. 

     The first time was an accident. He was doing his own thing on Earth while she was working. Trying to get him back to Hell. 

     It was a battle between them, trying to get him back to hell and him evading and flirting with the angel. Centuries of the cat and mouse game. Even if she had gotten him back to hell, he’d always make his way back to earth. 

     A few centuries ago is where it took a turn. The flirting turned to stolen kisses and him running off. Kisses became longer over the years. The modern world provided a lot more fun for him. 

     He found himself in nightclubs often. Humans flocked to him, he didn’t have any interest in sleeping with them. Just wanting the attention of a certain angel. If he didn’t grab her attention he might take one or two of the humans home and have some fun. 

     The music blared as he sipped his drink and the human woman he had his arm around kissed up his neck. He had been making out with her moments ago but she wasn’t exactly the best kisser. Not on his list to take home. 

     Not that he worried much about what human he was bedding when he saw his target walking through the crowd to him. 

     “Get out of here,” he pushed the woman away from him and watched her grab her things and leave, scoffing at him. Something he’d usually mind the rudeness but not when he was watching the pretty angel he’d chased after for almost a millennium walk up to him in a cute little dress. 

     A dress he was sure the big man would frown upon.  One he enjoyed looking at, riding up her thighs as she walked. 

     “Felix,” Y/n called as she approached him. 

     “You caught me again, angel!” Felix smiled as he finished off his drink. “What will your reward be this time doll?”

     “Could you stay in Hell?” Y/n asked as she took a seat next to him, “What do you gain from toying with humanity?”

     “Besides getting to see you? Not much. They’re not that great at sex— even though some think they are.”

     “It is always sex with the demons up here,” Y/n scoffed 

     “Are you seeing other demons?” Felix asked, pulling her onto his lap, and making her straddle him. Y/n’s eyes widened as she looked down at the blonde demon under her, “You didn’t forget about this little guy you put on me, hun.”

     Felix pulled out the padlock necklace around his neck. It was the one time she had tricked him. Pulling him into a dingy bathroom at a nightclub just like this one. He did enjoy the bit of grinding and over-the-clothes action they had before she locked the necklace around his neck. Before promptly dropping him back inside the gates of hell. He thanked the dumbass humans that decided to try an old summoning ritual for the devil. 

     The devil himself didn’t feel like dealing with humans that particular day so Felix took the chance. So now he had her sitting on top of him. He never knew what the locket was for. He guessed it dulled his powers a bit since when he was up on Earth, he wasn't as strong as he used to be. 

     “It’s part of my job. Bring demons back to Hell since Lucifer can’t keep you there.” Y/n scoffed 

     “I bet none of them are as fun as me,” Felix smiled, leaning forward, he could see her blush a bit under the shitty light of the club. 

     “None of them try and get in my pants as much as you do.”

     “You enjoy it, you can’t lie.” it wasn't even a metaphor. Angels couldn't lie. 

     “You need to go back to Hell,” Y/n sighed

     “You're avoiding it, doll.” Felix chuckled as his hands held onto her hips. 

     “I can’t, Felix.”

     “But you want to. Otherwise, you would have killed me centuries ago.” 

     “I—”

     “You just have to say please. Take the fall,” Felix whispered in her ear

     His teeth bit on the lobe of her ear. Y/n gulped but didn’t push him away. Her hands gripped his collared shirt. “Come on, angel.”

     He kissed her jaw and down her neck. “Say the word.”

     “Not here,” Y/n told him

     “Come with me.”

     Felix dragged her out of the club’s back exit. Briefly pushing her up against the wall and pushing his lips onto hers. Y/n moaned against his lips, cupping his face as his hands held onto her hips, traveling to her ass. 

     “Felix,” Y/n mumbled against his lips 

     “Been waiting centuries for this,” Felix mumbled as he kissed down her neck. 

     Y/n leaned her head against the brick wall as the demon nipped at her skin. She closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy his mouth on her neck, then she felt the harshes of the brick wall be replaced by the comfort of a bed. 

     “Didn’t take that little trick away from me, did you?” Felix chuckled as he pushed up the skirt of the little dress she was wearing. 

     He kissed down to her chest, as he pressed two fingers against her clothed clit, rubbing small circles into it. Y/n bit her lower lip to hide her moans but Felix still heard them. Laughing against her skin as he moved up to slide the straps of her dress off with his teeth. 

     His eyes watched her expressions. He pulled the dress down to bunch up around her waist— smiling as he saw she wasn't wearing a bra— before pulling his hand away from her clit and pulling her lip from between her teeth, “Let me hear you.”

     Y/n nodded only for his hand to slap her then grab her chin and make her look into his eyes, “You're a big girl. Say ‘yes sir’.”

     “Yes sir,” Y/n repeated as he pushed his lips back onto hers. Both moaned into the kiss as he grabbed her hands and pinned them against the pillow. 

     Felix ground his hips into hers, his erection brushing against her clothed cunt. His tongue slipped into her mouth and fought against hers for a moment. One hand moved to squeeze her breasts making her gasp into his mouth. 

     He pulled away after a moment longer, the trail of saliva connecting their lips. Felix smiled and leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth. Y/n moaned as his tongue flicked the little bud while his hand worked the other, twisting it between his thumb and pointer finger. 

     After a moment, he switched breasts and gave the same treatment as her back arched off the bed and her hands tangled in his hair. He lightly bit the bud as he pulled away. 

     “Get rid of your clothes and sit on your knees for me,” Felix instructed as he got off the bed. Y/n took a moment to catch her breath before moving to discard the fabric and her heels from her body. Sitting on her knees in the middle of the bed. A moment later, Felix came back. Having discarded his shirt and pants, chains in hands and he got on the bed. 

     “Such an obedient little one,” Felix smiled as he locked the cuffs connected to the chains around her wrist and pulled her arms above her, locking the chains to a metal loop on the bed frame. 

     “I always thought buying a bondage bed was a good idea,” Felix chuckled as he pulled something out from one of the bedside drawers. Smiling, he spread her knees apart and put the object under her. Her clit was pressed against a round surface. Felix grabbed her jaw and made her look at him. 

     He smiled as he pressed the on button for the vibrator. Watching her gasps and moan as she felt the vibrations on her clit. “Does that feel good? The little toy pressed against your clit?” Felix asked as he kissed her cheek. 

     “Yes.” Y/n moaned only for the demon to slap one of her sensitive tits and make her scream

     “Try again angel,” Felix’s low voice was far lower in tone when he was upset. But it was hot. 

     “Yes sir,” Y/n whined 

     Felix smiled at the response “Open your mouth doll.” Felix took a stand in front of her on the bed as he tilted her head back and her mouth fell open, “Tongue out.”

     Y/n followed the instructions, sticking her tongue out. Felix chuckled to himself as he took his hard cock out of his boxers. He dragged the tip along her tongue before he leaned down, gripping the back of her head as he spit into her mouth. Quickly standing back up and shoving his cock into her mouth. 

     Y/n moaned and gagged as the tip hit the back of her throat. Felix revealed the feeling of her life wrapped around him. Pulling back before shoving his cock right down her throat. Moaning at the tightness of her throat as he fucked her while the vibrator stimulated her clit for him. 

     Y/n rolled her hips against the toy as she choked on the demon's cock. Eyes damn near rolled to the back of her head from how good it felt. Tears pricked her lashline as he shoved his cock down her throat one last time before still in her. Holding her head flush against him as his warm cum shot down her throat. 

     Felix pulled out after a moment and pumped his cock over her mouth the make sure he emptied himself. A few spurts hit her tongue and around her mouth. Felix licked his cum from her face and pushed his tongue back into her mouth. Y/n moaned into his mouth as her legs shook under her. 

     Felix pulled away and watched her swallow the come then watched her come on the sheets, body shaking and falling forward as she came down from her high. He turned off the vibrator and tossed it to the side. 

     “So pretty when you come,” Felix smiled, pulling her head up to look at him, “especially chained up like this.”

     Felix moved the chains from above her head to the headboard. Spreading her arms to reach for the bedpost as she lay against the pillows again. Her eyes watched him discard his boxers and climb between her legs. Felix smirked at her and wrapped her legs loosely around his waist. He ran two fingers between her sensitive folds, collecting her slick before shoving the fingers in his mouth and licking them clean. 

    “Mmm,” Felix moaned as he pulled the two fingers out, “Why don't you have a taste of yourself, angel?” 

     He dragged his fingers through her folds again, making her shiver. He chuckled before pushing the two fingers into her mouth. Y/n moaned as his fingers pushed against her tongue. He took joy in pumping his fingers in and out of her mouth before pulling them out and pushing the two fingers into her cunt. 

     “Fuck,” Y/n moaned as she tugged on the chains

     “Such a dirty mouth,” Felix joked as he quickly pumped his fingers in and out of her. 

     His thumb worked her clit as she rolled her hips in pleasure. She was still a bit sensitive from her first orgasm and it showed. Her walls clenched around his fingers. He could have fun with it. 

     Felix pulled his hand away from her and listened to her whine. 

     “Please,” Y/n begged as she tried scooting closer to him

     “Please what?” he asked, hand inching up to her neck 

     “Please, sir. Wanna come again.” Y/n begged 

     “Come on now. You can beg better than that,” Felix leaned forward to be face to-face with her. 

      “Please. Make me come again. Take me out of Heaven.”

      Felix knew the implications of the last words and he loved it. He was successfully pulling one of Heaven's soldiers from its army. He pushed his lips back onto hers as he lined his cock up at her entrance. He pushed in the tip as her legs tightened around him from the intrusion. 

     He gave her a moment before fully pushing into her. Both moaned into the kiss as they adjusted to the warmth. Lips moved together before he pulled away and started a slow thrusting pace. 

     “Feel so fucking good angel. Can't believe you hid this away from me for millennia.” Felix groaned as he grabbed her hips and picked up his speed, the warmth of her cunt drawing him in more and more. 

     “Wanted… centuries ago,” Y/n moaned as he hit a particular spot in her

     “Yeah? Been thinking about me fucking you dumb for centuries?” his hands moved up and grabbed her bouncing breasts

     “Yes!” she cried out as her walls clenched around him

     “Such a pure little thing. Thinking all those nasty thoughts for years.” 

     Felix gave her a particularly harsh thrust as tears pricked her eyes and she screamed from the pleasure. He moved his hands to lay next to her head as he took advantage of the position and thrusted in harsher. 

     The padlock around his neck dangling in front of her as it bounced back and forth with each thrust. Cursing under his breath as she got tighter around him. One hand moved from the pillow to in between her legs. Thumb rolling circles into her puffy clit, making her pull against the chains as she mindlessly begged him to come. Who was he to deny a request from his favorite angel.  

     “Come on doll, come for me,” Felix groaned

     Her walls spasmed around him as she came on his cock. He wasn’t far behind either. It took a few more thrusts till he pulled out and jerked off until his cum shot onto her stomach. 

     Both took a second to calm down before Felix un cuffed her and moved to clean them both up. He laid back on the bed and pulled her into his chest, pulling a sheet over their bodies. 

     “You don't need to care, you know that right,” Y/n said, too tired to move 

     “I’ve always cared. No matter how many times you dropped me back in Hell, I always cared about you.” Felix replied

     “Why?”

     “I… I don’t know. I just do.”

     Y/n moved slightly and turned his face to hers, kissing his lips. “I care too.”

     Felix smiled and pulled her back into him. 

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[babiebom]

I noticed you write for mystic messenger!!! can i get some NSFW 707 headcanons?

A/N:yes!!!! I wanna get back into the fandom but haven’t played in a while~~ thank you for requesting!!

Tw:it’s nsfw so some sex talk is expected, cursing, kinks, some things that are unsavory towards religion, etc

Wc: at least 10 bullet points or so

Mystic messenger Masterlist

I feel like Saeyoung would like it if both of you dressed up or cosplayed during sex

This also counts towards role playing

Even though he’s religious I do think he has a bit of a corruption kink

And would like to roleplay as a or with you as a priest or a nun or even the other way as demons and angels

Using the religion as a Segway, he would be VERY worship-y towards you

Whether you take on a dominant or submissive role, he will always be into giving body worship and basically making his entire personality about you

He’s been alone for so long and you stayed and loved him you are his reason for being he HAS to make you feel good no matter what

And this can and will go as far as him saying you are his god or something (he is still religious though and it’s weird for other people but he knows how to separate the two thought processes)

Think God is a Woman by Ariana Grande

He would LOVE LOVE LOVE it if you got on your knees under his desk while he’s working

He would say that he hates it but he does love the little distraction so he can rest

And loves that you can allow him to keep working during, and that it allows him to work even better after

I think he would get very into it during sex

Like he is not himself he gets carried to a different universe while you two go at it

Like he is actually fucked dumb by you (or y’know while he fucks you)

Actually pussy/cock drunk and is not embarrassed about it

Has a slight exhibition kink and is a voyeur.

Though he doesn’t want other people to watch you two because he is possessive

He does like to watch you though

He’s a little creep about it(affectionate)

He will watch you touch yourself through a slit in the door, in a chair in the same room, through a window, through cameras

All is consensual though

I think he is a very big switch

Like some days he wants to be babied and is into receiving if that’s what you’re into and on others he’s like full dom

Both are ways for him to outlet his emotions

Does enjoy music with sex but it has to be SUPER low unless it’s on for the purpose of hiding your actions

Thinks the cbat Reddit sex story is hilarious and has probably tried it with you once just to see what the guy was talking about

[alastwhorez]

Whispers in the Confessional- Chapter one

⸸ Pairing: Priest!Alastor x Reader ⸸ Summary: In your isolated little town, Father Alastor arrives as the new priest, captivating the townsfolk with his charm. Strange occurrences start to plague the town, and Father Alastor is keeping secrets, and (Y/n) develops a forbidden attraction to the new priest. Will Alastor be able to keep his secrets hidden? ⸸ Warnings: 18+, MDNI, religion, religious figures, corruption, obsession, p in v, pillow humping, bible verses, priest kink and dark themes. I think that's everything ⸸ An: I have Father Alastor stuck in my head, so I decided to turn this one shot into a series. Hope you enjoy it! Not proofread, possible spelling errors.

The town of Blackwood was a place where time seemed to stand still. Nestled deep within a forest, its cobblestone streets and old stone buildings whispered tales of a bygone era. The townsfolk lived simple lives, their days marked by routine and tradition. But all of that changed with the arrival of Father Alastor.

It was a crisp autumn morning when he first appeared, stepping out of a sleek black car that seemed out of place in the quaint town. His tall, slender figure was draped in the traditional black cassock of a priest, and his sharp features were framed by neatly styled dark hair. But it was his eyes that drew the most attention—piercing red, like embers glowing in the night, and a perpetual, charming smile that seemed to hide a thousand secrets.

The townsfolk gathered around the church, curious about the new priest who had come to replace the aging Father O’Malley. Whispers of excitement and speculation filled the air as they watched him approach the church doors. You stood among them, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and unease.

“Good morning, everyone,” Father Alastor greeted, his voice rich and melodious, carrying a hint of an old-world accent with a hint of a southern accent. “I am Father Alastor, and I am honored to serve as your new priest.”

His words were met with murmurs of approval and nods of welcome. There was something undeniably captivating about him, something that made it impossible to look away. As he spoke, you felt a strange pull, an inexplicable attraction that both intrigued and unsettled you.

Over the next few days, Father Alastor settled into his new role, quickly winning over the hearts of the townsfolk with his eloquent sermons and genuine acts of kindness. The church, once a place of quiet reverence, now buzzed with renewed energy and attendance. You found yourself drawn to his services, captivated by his words and the way he seemed to speak directly to your soul.

As the days continued, more and more people became frequent church goers. You included. Father Alastor’s sermons always seemed to be about whatever was troubling you at the time, as if he was reading your mind.

Father Alastor quickly started a regular schedule for his sermons consisting of Thursday through Sunday, with Sunday always being the busiest.

You started hearing whispers about Father Alastor. The woman all fawning over him, and speaking sinful thoughts. You noticed most of the people attending his sermon were women. They would gush and coo over him, fighting for any chance to be near him, or help him.

Something you noticed about Father Alastor was he always turned down the women, you assumed it was because of the vow he took as a priest not to take on a wife or have sexual relations. That he wholly belongs to the church and God, mind, body, and soul.

Even though you have been attending church you have yet to meet the new priest personally. He is always swarmed by women, you never tried to meet him. That was until today.

“Excuse me, my child, but I do believe we have not had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Father Alastor, and you are?”

You had to look up to speak to him, he was fairly taller than you. You reach only to his chest. “Hello Father, I'm (y/n). It's a pleasure to meet you”

He bowed his head and took your hand giving it a small kiss “but the pleasure is all mine my dear” Yours and his eyes both widened at his actions. He quickly stood, brushing off his outfit. “Apologies, that was quite Unprofessional of me”

Your hand tingles where his lips touched and a light flush to your cheeks. “ It's alright, Father” did he greet all the women this way? No wonder they are all so smitten with him.

“It was nice to meet you, (y/n), but if you'll excuse me, I must be getting up there” you took your seat as the sermon began.

Over the next few days you caught yourself plagued with the thought of Father Alastor. His words Stuck in your head. But what lingered the most was the kiss. Though innocent, you couldn't help but think about his lips on you as you lay in bed at night.

You started to wonder what his lips would feel like in other places. You gasp at the thought. How lewd of you to be thinking such things about a holy man. A man who dedicated his life to serving God. You couldn't help it though. He was a gorgeous man, if only he didn't take that vow of chastity. You could smack yourself for such thoughts. He is a purse man and here you are defiling his character.

What you didn't know was That you also plagued Father Alastor’s mind. Maybe not in the same way, but he can't stop thinking about you as he paces back and forth in the church. He came here for a reason, could you help with this reason? He growls as he grips his hair, smile straining. All the women in this town just throw themselves at him, but you, oh you were different. He could sense this from the day he stepped out his car in this quiet little down.

While he could see through everyone else you were a little harder to read. Everyone else was dirty sinners, their souls plagued with the promise of hell, yours was pure. A pure soul. He laughs at the thought. finding such a soul was so rare these days but you basically served yourself to him on a silver platter.

You started attending more and more of his sermons, you basically are there everyday he is holding them, attending several a night. You told him his words spoke to you. Would you believe everything he says?

Maybe, just maybe you actually can be of assistance. He smirks at the thought, red eyes seeming to glow under the moon's light peeking through the church windows.

As the days grew shorter with the sun setting and the shadows lengthened, strange occurrences began to plague the town. Whispers echoed through the night, and shadows seemed to move on their own, casting eerie shapes on the walls. The once peaceful town of Blackwood was now shrouded in an unsettling darkness.

These occurrences drew more and more people to the church, seeking comfort in Father Alastor’s words. Reassurances that this is nothing to worry about as long as your faith is strong.

One evening, after a particularly moving sermon, you lingered in the church, hoping for a moment to speak with Father Alastor. As the last of the congregation filed out, you approached him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Father Alastor,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I just wanted to thank you for your sermon. It was… inspiring.”

He turned to you, his red eyes softening with a warmth that made your breath catch. “Thank you, my child. It means a great deal to hear that my words have touched you.”

There was a pause, a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever. You felt a strange connection, a bond that defied explanation. But beneath the surface, you sensed something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

If you didn't know any better you would say you saw an eerie shadow creeping on the wall behind Father Alastor. If you weren't so taken back by his beauty maybe you would have noticed the flicker of the lights, the howl of the wind, and maybe even the buzz of static in the air. But all of that is pushed to the back of your mind as he looks down at you, a smile on his face.

“Father, are You sure these things happening around town are nothing to worry about?”

He laughs “why of course, my child, this is nothing but a test of faith From God. These things will not harm thee as long as your faith is wrong. is your faith strong my child?”

“Yes, Father! I will not allow these dark entities to corrupt My faith.”

He hums and nods his head. His hands behind his back.

“Run along then, my child, as it Is getting late. I wouldn't want you wandering the streets alone at such an hour. Not with all the evil will plaguing this town.”

“Yes, Father” you turn and start heading to the steps to leave

“(Y/n)”

You turn back to Father Alastor “yes, Father?”

“If you find these evils to be tempting you, or making you uneasy, please do Not hesitate to inform me. I am here to help after all. Day or night”

You smile and nod at him. As you turn you don't notice The evil look in eyes or his smile stretching. You also miss the tilt of his head as something dark slithers across the wall your way, attaching itself to you.

As you left the church that night, the whispers in the shadows seemed to grow louder, and the sense of unease deepened. The sound of an old radio ringing through the night, drawing unease from anyone unfortunate enough to hear. The trees blow in the wind casting malicious shadows all around as the wind howls with ill intent. You pull your jacket closer to you as you walk back home. The feeling of something watching you in the back of your mind. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as you turn around and find nothing. Playing it off as your imagination you continue your journey, Father Alastors words replaying in your mind.

Little did you know, something was following you and that the arrival of Father Alastor was just the beginning of a journey that would change your life forever.

Once you arrived home you kicked off your shoes and threw your jacket. You started your nighttime routine then crawled into bed.

Father Alastor is all you dreamed about. He had you bend over a pew, Bible in hand, skirt thrown over your hips, and panties around your ankles. Father Alastor behind you thrusting into you.

“flee from sexual immorality. Every other SIN a person comMITS—oh god!” you moan

“Keep reading, my child?” He says as he speeds up his thrusts

“is-is outside the BODY— fuck” He pinched your clip and started to rub “but the sexually immoral person sins— oh god Father Alastor don't stop”

“Did I say stop reading?” He slaps your ass hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Sins against his own body, or do you not know that your body is a temPLE—” you moan out thrusting Back against Father Alastors hips

“Keep reading, my child, Do you not wish to reach salvation, be delivered from all your sins”

“Yes fuck yes!”

“Then keep reading”

“of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God—oh, oh, ahhh” Father Alastor stops moving as you fuck Youself on his cock “gonna—gonna mhhh” you cum all over his cock, him pulling out if you. Be puts his hand on your shoulder And pushes down.

“Finish what you started, my child” you kneel down in front of him, taking him into your mouth, you bob your head as he fists your hair, before long he is fucking Your throat. “Jesus–ahh” He finishes down your throat telling you to swallow it all. You stick your tongue out to show him.

“Good, My child, we will continue these meetings to free your soul from total Damnation.”

“Thank you, Father"

You shoot up from your bed, panting with an ache between your legs. You grab your pillow and put It between your legs and start grinding to the image of Father Alastor.

You're so lost in your pleasure You don't see the shadowy figure slip into Darkness and back to its owner.

The shadow relays the message of what it saw back to it's owner.

“Well isn't this interesting” static and a deep chest rumbling laugh fill the air.

Next chapter

Table Of Contents

[narcissistshandler]

Can you do Hobie × sub religious male reader with a corruption kink ? Where it's like such a ego boost for him to be one who breaks down a good two shoes

𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗦𝗘

pairing. hobie brown x male reader

warnings. sub reader, handjob, anal sex, bottom!hobie, top!reader, religion, religious guilt, thinking about sin, insinuated homosexuality as sin, hell, etc, proceed with caution if christian religion is a sensitive subject for you.

a/n. Sorry for the delay in posting, my anxiety is killing me and I think this work will be a little disappointing for you

"Should I turn on the lights?"

"No, please no." Your breathy voice pleaded him and Hobie could only imagine what your face looked like in the darkness of the room. Were you blushing? Were your eyes closed as you pretended the fingers around your cock belonged to a woman, even with the calluses and hard skin? Were you wallowing in guilt or was pleasure all you could think about? What was going through your mind?

He desperately wanted to get inside your head and read your every thought.

"No? And how will I be able to see your face when I ride your cock?"

You sucked in a shaky breath through your teeth, cock twitching in Hobie's hand, murmuring, pleading, "Hobie." It was that simple to mess with you. A few dirty words, touches, like he knew no one had ever touched you before, and some profanity and soon, you'd be begging for him, proclaiming his name with the same need you called out for God. And when that happened it was always hard to pretend that the whole twisted situation didn't affect him as much as it actually did.

Hobie tightened his fingers around your cock, feeling how it pulsed, how each pull had you making quiet, self-conscious sounds, hips trying to rise for more contact despite the free hand pressing there and Hobie's weight on your legs made the task difficult. Your own fingers dug into Hobie's legs, nails digging in painfully. You wanted him so bad, you were eager for it, he know, you always were, no matter how many times you did it.

"Are you going to beg for it?" he teased, smiling where you couldn’t see.

"I-I need to?"

His thumb rubbed a tight circle over the bulbous head, eliciting a sound from the back of your throat; it wasn't a gentle touch, it was meant to hurt. Hobie loved the control he had over you. Maybe what you feared was true and he was a temptation sent by Satan to lead you astray, because Hobie truly loved knowing that no guilt and no fear of going to hell kept you from returning to his arms, night after night.

"P-please, Hobie," you asked, begged like a good, good boy. "Please... s-sit on my cock."

Hobie's laugh echoed through the dark room, the doors locked at your insistence, despite you both knowing that whoever you wanted to keep out of the room couldn't be stopped by mundane locks. Hobie's amusement might sound mean, but considering how your cock leaked into his hand, it didn't seem like it affected you much.

He stood up, eyes searching the shadows for the familiar lines of your face, to make sure your eyes were open and all your attention was on him. Keeping your member steady at the base, Hobie hovered over you, pointed knees spread across your sides, thighs flexing as he lowered himself until he felt the fat tip briefly grip the edge before sliding easily inside, stretching him like only you could.

A muscle in Hobie's thigh jumped, the skin warming with the familiar feeling of fullness. Your hands flew to his hips, making a choked moaning sound that made it seem like you was holding back to just not come right away.

"Oh, God, that feels good," Hobie moaned, rocking back and forth, taking his time, just enjoying how good it felt inside him. He had prepared himself for you, as he always did and yet, the shock that shot up his spine with the burn of the stretch threatened to bring him to an early orgasm.

You suddenly stood up, almost knocking Hobie off of you and slapped your mouths together. Eager to shut him up, so you wouldn't have to hear that name and remember your sins, sins you didn't regret. Hobie knew, he understood, but at least now you were looking at him, attention descending from his slender form, no breasts, no curves, his hard cock against your stomach and the place between his legs swallowing you whole. Not a woman on top of you and now, there was no way to pretend otherwise.

Your lips left his and moved down his neck at the same time Hobie put his feet on the mattress and began to move, moving up and down on your dick. Your mouth moved over his sweaty brown skin and in his pleasure-fogged mind, it wouldn't be until later when you left the bed still warm from the orgasm and once again lied that this would be the last time, that Hobie would understand the words you were repeating between sighs and moans.

Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.

Hobie would also remember then, that he couldn't hear a single drop of regret in your tone.

[livingdeadmlm]

Low honor Arthur Morgan redemption with a Preist 4/31

Pronouns: reader is referred to as a man

Physical Sex: AMAB

How far are things going?: not full sex but some slight head and dirty talk

Warnings: bit of shame, priest reader didn’t think gay people were being fr, a bit of corruption kink, talks of previous parts Arthur has had, lewd acts in an empty church

Outline: Arthur has had a change of heart recently, but once he sits in the confessional booth with you late at night he can’t help old habits as he teases you, and not knowing better you internalize it.

What inspired me to write how I did: the crappy presort romance book I got lol

Other: hopefully I will make this a few parts! 3446 words 😭 this is very different from my usual writing as I wanted it to be more detailed and flow better let me know what you think!

They spoke of constant temptations, even hesitating to take the vow as they could not give up the sins of the flesh. You tried to understand the strain and comfort of your brothers and explain just how easy it was for you, but that was always met with them stating you were much more blessed than them and, therefore, could not understand their struggles.

It pained you to hear, but over the last decade, it made you learn how to comfort other men and women with their desires and maintain themselves for marriage. Giving tips and tricks, you were never truly sure worked but heard from others how much they did. Besides your unsureness of how well those tips worked, many men and women found comfort in you. While confessional booths were all about privacy and anonymity, many of the women you advised claimed to be able to tell it was you due to the ‘energy’ that surrounded you.

Once you stepped into the booth, one person after another stepped into the warm space and opened up about what they felt ashamed of. While you kept privacy, you did remember the voices you were hearing, and today was a completely new one. This voice was gruff; it must belong to an older man much like yourself.

A new voice, as well as being an older man, made your heart swell. You believed it was never too late to turn to God and find comfort in religion. With how stubborn the men in town were, it made you happy to see one come in and swallow their pride.

"Mother Superior sent me here; she said you could 'lend me an ear' on what's happening." A smile graced your face as you fondly thought of Mother Superior. She was a great woman, especially for the work she did and her enjoyment of it.

"Well, good Sir, what has been happening you wish to speak about?" a low sigh came from next to you as the man began to explain a recent change of heart he was experiencing. He opened up more and more as the time ticked by. About harming people at the start it was those who had been awful he noticed the bar for awful things was getting lower and lower causing him to harm people who hadn’t done anything wrong. What he needed most at this moment was not advice but someone to hear him, and that's what you wanted to provide. His explanations of almost everything he's been going through and what he put others through, if they were not scary and authentic, you'd commend him for being a fantastic storyteller.

He reached a point where he would hesitate more and more when telling you things.

"Mister, you don't have to tell me everything in one session, right? You can always return on a new day or even when I'm open later at night! Sometimes, people have things on their minds before bed that stop them from sleeping." Your voice was soft, not to push the man away but to let him know he had space to get comfortable. As you sat in the confessional, the tension hung thick in the air, almost palpable. Your heart raced, grappling with the weight of the man's confession. His voice's unspoken truths and struggle lingered, creating an electric atmosphere that made the booth feel smaller like without the wood separating you too you would be intertwined.

Though you encouraged him to leave and take his time when opening so much you found yourself drawn to the warmth of his presence, a magnetic pull that ignited an unfamiliar spark within you. His hesitant gaze and the helplessness etched on his face were something you couldn't see or know was happening. Still, if you could, it would stir something profound in your chest, an unexpected desire to comfort him beyond the constraints of your roles. It made you crave to reach out, to reassure him that he was seen and understood. The thought of simply offering a hand, of shattering the barriers between you, felt equally exhilarating and terrifying.

"It's not that, Father (Name). I just have a lot of history with women and even men. I'm not sure you're too keen on hearin' it." Had the booth not had a screen, you would have been a bit embarrassed for him to see you so red.

"Uh, I am not sure what you mean by history. Do you mean violent? We've spoken of that so far. I understand that-"

"No, Father (Name), you've never heard of men bedding up with other men?" Your stomach jumped. You had heard of the verse but have yet to consider it something people did. It's a struggle some men could have, and you never put much more thought behind it.

"I am aware of it on a surface level, but I can help you, as I have many other women and men struggling with adultery." A grunt could be heard on the other side of the confessional booth, and the man sighed, "Okay then, How about this, Father (Name)," there was rustling of the man standing up. "I'll be back about 11:30 to discuss this with you; the things I've done shouldn't be spoken about in the daylight." You craved to reach out and reassure him that he was seen and understood, yet the boundaries loomed large. He bid you bye as the door opened and shut, letting in a tiny sliver of sun.

His impending return felt like a double-edged sword. You wanted to be there for him, to help him navigate his shadows. Still, crossing into more profound, more complicated territory made you uneasy. Questions swirled in your mind—were you genuinely able to help him? Would your inexperience be what holds you back for good this time? You sat in the booth, an odd, uncomfortable feeling in your stomach as you realized you had to prepare for tonight's meeting. While innocent as it was to help a man find the light, it felt like something you had to hide. Meeting so late into the night.

As the sun set, you felt a stir in your stomach. You had your bible, attempting to find a proper way to go about the conversation later. As you looked, all you could feel was nervous, many thoughts swarming your head. Men had come in and described their acts with women, and you were more than clear-headed on the steps they needed to take. But this man, having already acted on the thoughts he had about men, made you think of sodomy as an old law you deemed unfair. To punish those for private acts in their homes. And if true love existed in the act, how could god punish that? Were there other ways to share love between men? That could be something to ask.

Nightfall came, and you were having a late dinner when you went to the confessional booth. Candles burned across the church, offering a gentle light. As you glanced up, you saw a large man enter the booth. Fearing you were late, you quickly followed his steps and sat in the booth.

"Good evening, Father (Name). I am glad you are open so late. I am glad to speak of these times."

"Of course, what about these? Relations are keeping you up, mister—" "Morgan." "I'm sorry?" "You can call me Arthur Morgan." There was silence for a second. You smiled, having a name for the mystery man. "Well, Mister Morgan! What about these relations keep you from sleeping?" There was slight shuffling from the man as he cleared his throat.

"I've stopped seeing men and women that way the last few months, but I miss it. At night, I can't help but want the warmth of someone else next to me, to know who's next to me, feeling their best." His voice was low and soft, and you subconsciously leaned close to the screen to hear him.

The gentle flicker of candlelight danced around the booth, casting shadows against the box. Arthur's voice, low and tinged with longing, pulled you in even further, creating an intimate cocoon that felt almost sacred. "You talk of these connections," you replied softly, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. "It's clear how much you crave that closeness." The moment's intimacy sent shivers down your spine as you leaned in further, the barrier between you both seeming to dissolve.

"It's not just the physical interactions I miss. It's the intimacy—how another person can make you feel alive and understood." You could sense the ache in his words, and your heart responded with an unfamiliar flutter. "I never feel more alive than when I have someone pretty exhausted next to me."

The tight feeling was back in your stomach. "Well, Mister Morgan, the only real sins you commit in these cases are ones of the flesh; God does not punish those as harshly as they are the easiest to commit." there was a chuckle from Arthur. "As I speak to you, father, something tells me you have no experience with this whole thing. You've never experienced this before, have you, father (Name)?" You laughed and shifted in your seat. "You got me there, Mister Morgan; I've never so much as had a girlfriend!" There was silence from Arthur. You could hear your name echo; his voice was so captivating.

"Though my personal experience or lack thereof in these cases isn't important when it comes to helping you." The church was hushed there wasn’t another soul in the church as everyone had long since gone home. Crickets chirped as the silence got longer and longer.

“I know you never mentioned that forgiveness from god is a goal of yours; however, I do think he will forgive! Just sodomy is looked down upon by many people as it's a part of an old set of laws-"his gruff voice interrupted your own, "so no sodomy and two men can lay together?" His inquisitive tone sent a pleasant spark in your abdomen. You sat in thought as you attempted to remember the condemnation of other acts when you remembered your curiosities from this afternoon.

"I do wonder, Mister Morgan, other than, um, sodomy, what else do two men partake in?" Your voice felt small and strained. It felt inappropriate to ask as if it was invasive. His laughter filled the space again, warm and inviting, as if he could sense the heat radiating from you through the wall separating you both. At that moment, the line between priest and man blurred, and the night deepened.

“Some men just like kissin' Father. Most brush it off as an in-the-moment type thing. They were ‘too drunk and didn’t realize.’ But they knew the mouth they were swapping spit with was a man. Maybe even some grabbing and rubbing.” You now felt incredibly top-heavy, as if your legs would struggle to support you if you stood.

You could only imagine what grabbing went on and rubbing. You felt flushed at the idea of such closeness with a man. Was this how homosexuals felt? An ache in their groin to be near a man, not for sex but just passionate closeness? Was the main thing that pushed you to this work not some blessing from God but just Homosexual tendencies?

But he continued, “Some men even love another man’s mouth on them. Did ya know that Father (Name)? A man taking another man in his mouth?” His tone was curious, but you missed his intentions in provoking you. Sure, he was here to become a better person. But even a saint would become desperate to see your face tighten at the most minor touches you’ve ever experienced. The slacks you wore under your cassock felt uncomfortable. They never felt so glued to your body. The extra fabric of your cassock gave you more coverage, but you couldn’t feel more exposed.

“No, I, um, uh, wasn’t aware of that, Mister Morgan. I didn’t know the options two men had when bedded together.” You felt like you were gasping for air as you spoke as if the air from your words was being sucked out of you by Arthur.

“Is there anything else that keeps you at night with these memories, Mister Morgan?” Your stomach felt tight. The atmosphere in the booth was intense and hot. While you wanted to help, you also wished things would. Cool down and not feel overwhelmed.

"I’ve just been feeling lonely. I miss sleeping next to someone most nights—someone who doesn’t leave before I open my eyes in the morning." His voice sounded sad, bringing the warm feelings in your head back down to earth.

"God is with you every night, Mister Morgan," you said, clearing your throat as you gazed through the screen that separated you. You could make out his side profile, but there are no specifics. "Of course, you can’t hug or kiss God. But you can feel His presence with you. I’m also here for you, Mister Morgan. The whole church is! If you need company, there’s always someone here during regular business hours." You heard his boots scrape against the floor on the other side of the booth.

"I suppose you're right, Father. I'll come again. You're quite nice. It's sweet how much you try to understand. Do you get rewarded for your work?" Your stomach felt like it was full of butterflies at the question. You did your best to explain that you received physical rewards for helping others. Still, the joy of assisting was reward enough. Even being asked that question was a reward for all your efforts.

Though Arthur believed you loved your work, he offered: "I just think such a hardworking and kind man deserves more than just praise. How about a nice night out for dinner and some sightseeing? Whenever you're ready, Father (name), just let me know, and we can go off on such a trip—just the two of us."

The booth's screen hid his features, but you could tell he was facing you now, taking your breath away.

This was against the booth's code of conduct. You shouldn't know his name; you shouldn't be looking at him. But you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to open the doors or tear off the screen between you. You want to see the man you have been speaking to for so long, even if it was only a few hours.

“That’s a very kind offer, Mister; maybe one day when folks around here don’t need me as much! I’d love to visit a whole new town.” Your hand reached up for the screen before stopping yourself. “However, Mister Morgan, maybe these plans would be better out of confessional and when I can see you. Of course, what happens here stays in here and will not be mentioned in our free time out of it, but I do believe in stranger danger!”

As you spoke, a playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips, hoping to lighten the mood. “It sounds silly, but sometimes when I think of going to a new town, I can't help but imagine wearing some normal clothes like the rest of you cowboys wear.”

“Maybe we could have that arranged someday, Father (Name).”

The night had finally ended as you heard Arthur bid you goodnight, leaving with a soft click of the confessional door. You sighed gently to yourself as you opened your confessional door and noticed a few candles had gone out. Take the small matchbox from your pocket. As you turned slightly, there was the warmth of a hand around your torso, and a soft laugh sounded through the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You glanced up, surprised to see Arthur's playful grin, his eyes sparkling in the dim light.

"I thought Ya could use a little help with the ambiance," he said, adjusting the hat that now perched softly on your head. The playful gesture sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You couldn't help but smile, your heart racing as you felt the closeness between you. The flickering of the last few candles cast gentle shadows on the walls, creating a personal atmosphere.

"Thank you so much, Mister Morgan; I was just about to relight these," you replied, motioning toward the candles. His presence was comforting, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. As you struck a match and brought it to the wick, the flame danced with a life of its own, illuminating Arthur's features. He moved closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "Sometimes all you need is a little light to guide the way." His hand slid down the front of your cassock, and his much rougher hand groped your stiff hard-on.

“Just no sodomy and God will forgive you right?” His other hand mushed your chest around. You slightly cried, ashamed of the subconscious humping into Arthur’s hand. Ashamed that in front of the son of god, you gave in so easily to another man's advances.

While you had almost no exposed skin on your neck that did not stop Arthur from latching onto it. His hands never stopped rubbing and smooshing. You stumbled forward to a pew, your legs couldn’t hold you up for much longer.

Arthur’s hard-on pressed against your back as his grunts and moans filled your ears. “Could you forgive me Father (Name)?” Your eyes squeezed shut feeling overwhelmed at the licking and sucking onto your skin. The sucking stung in a way that it felt like a punishment for enjoying it. His mo and grunts replayed in your mind as his hands went into your slacks grasping at your crotch so desperately.

He flipped you over your ass pressed against the hardwood of the pew you were leaning on and his hand was right back into place toying with you, it was almost pitiful how you whined out his name.

“How many Hail Marys for this Father (Name)?” Arthur had slowly sunk to his knees kissing down your stomach, maintaining eye contact the whole way down. Your face was on fire as the cowboy’s hat tilted down with your head.

His unwavering eye contact was captivating, exuding a powerful hold that was difficult to resist. A small kiss was pressed against the warm skin above the waistband of your underwear. His tongue playfully peeked out from between his lips.

Gently press it against the tip of your penis. You choked on air as his mouth sealed onto the tip lapping at it like a thirsty animal. You gently tugged his hat over your face, savoring the scent of his hair, his movements kept pace and you could feel your stomach tighten.

You've never even kissed someone before but now having a man touch you in ways you had never done to yourself, his mouth attached to you like a lifeline in such a holy place.

The shame you felt was overshadowed by the feeling of coming undone. Like a rubber band snapping tears burn your eyes as you wheeze against the soft pillow on your mattress. Your fingers were tightly gripping the smooth pillow as you attempted to catch your breath.

Stumbling up from your mattress the floor creaked under your weight. In your frantic movements, you dropped to your knees and reached for your crucifix. Holding the cold beads in your hand made you realize how much your skin was burning up. The beads tapped lightly together in your hand as you began to pray, desperate to apologize for such a filthy dream.

While you couldn't control it and you knew that, this hadn't ever happened before. The small wet patch on your underwear was cold when you finished praying, you could only ignore it so long before you eventually had to change them. Upon closer inspection your sheet also needed cleaning as you deduced you were also grinding against your bed when the dream reached its peak.

Hou wasn't sure how this would affect you if you were to ever meet the man face to face, he didn't need to know but what if he found out?

[romanarose]

If You Wanna Be Wild: Chapter 2

Javier Peña x Latina!sex worker!informant!Reader/OC x Santiago Garcia

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Summary: Javi and Santi talk about where to start with Lorea; Santi thinks on his night with Candy

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it.

Additional warnings: Catholic guilt and religous trauma and religion talk. However, this is not an anti catholic page. We can discuss the problems of the church at large and the guilt that abstence-only and shame based discussions on sex can affect people, but my family is catholic and I have a lot of respect for the individual people, especially Latino-catholics.

For the record, this is a fic that takes place in the drug trade and deals with the darker side of humanity, so anything from Narco's and Triple Frontier is liable to be discussed or mentioned here. This is your warning. This is not a dark fic nor is it centered around dark themes like Leather and Lace or Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside, but they are open to be talked about.

Reader has a nick name: Candy. Not her real name just what she goes by on her profession. Much of the inspo for this and for the title came from the Bruce Springsteen song “Candy’s room” so check it out for the vibes.

Reader speaks Spanish and had hair. I've decided Candy is just latina coded bc she's a sex worker in colombia so this is what I'm doing.

3.1k words. Proof red by my beloved Fen

Perspective changed per section. When perspective is Santi or Javi, reader is referred to in the 3rd person or by Candy.

************************

You have Santi sat up on the bed, facing you. Well, Diego. That’s what he said his name was, but if he thought you didn’t know who the new DEA agent in town was, he was mistaken. After your 3rd arrest for prostitution, you got a lot more careful, and always tried to keep up with the police in the area. You wondered if he knew Javi.

“Alright Diego, tell me, what exactly is it you’re looking for?” You ask, but he looks confused, so you give a soft, warm sigh. He was one of those ones. “Are you just looking for a quick fuck? Getting to know each other and forming a connection, exploring things?”

Santi considered his options. “Well, maybe I’d like to learn a little bit… only had s-” He swallowed. “sex a few times… you know, lights off, missionary, couple pumps and done…” A nervous chuckle emitted from him, so you tried to ease him with a soft smile.

“Don’t worry, baby boy, we can do that. Let’s start with getting to know a woman’s body, how about that?”

*

“Garcia, wake the fuck up.” Javi’s voice broke Santi out of his daydreaming, making him snap towards Javi.

“Huh? Sorry.”

“Whatsamatter, pretty boy, got dicked down too hard last night?”

Santi’s eyes went wide at that. “Dicked-?!?! DICKED DOWN? JAVI!” He leaned in to whisper harshly, as if it was important enough to keep quiet but not so bad Santi couldn’t miss an opportunity to clutch his pearls. “Javi, you fucking know I could get arrested for that!”

“I’m joking, pendejo.”

“You shouldn’t joke about that!”

Apparently, Santi looked concerned enough that Javi backed down, raising his hands in defeat. “Tranquilo, tranquilo amigo, lo siento. Yo parare.”

A little shaken, Santi glanced down as he calmed himself. “Gracias, Pena”. He rolled his shoulders and shook his head before clearing his throat. “So. Lorea. What do we got?”

*

Santiago Garcia had never seen a pussy up close before. There’d been porno magazines, sure… and he’d… touched a bit. He wasn’t an animal, Will had explained he can’t just shove his dick into a woman, that could hurt her. No, you gotta warm her up first, seduce her, open her up. Santi heard more than he ever wanted to of the sordid detail of Will eating pussy. However, when it came to actual sex, Santi barely got through it without a panic attack. There was no way he was going to attempt to go down on a girl under those conditions. Still, he didn’t want to hurt her, so he made sure to finger the 3 girls he’d somehow bumbled his way into bed with.

He needed to do better. Candy was allowing him the chance to explore, get over his nerves.

“But I want you to cum…” He had insisted.

“Well aren’t you a sweet boy… I’ll make sure I cum, how about that? Let me worry about that.”

“But…” he had looked across at her. “But I wanna learn how too.”

She nodded with reassurance. “You will, trust me, I’ll teach you. Just for today, focus on getting comfortable. I’ll let you know what feels good and what doesn’t but what works for me may not work for someone else, so remember that. Most important thing is communicating and listening to her body, so let’s start there.”

That’s how he got here, flat on his chest with Candy’s legs spread out before him. Her pussy was glistening for him.

“Where do I… how do I start?”

Candy sat up just a bit on her elbows. “Start by just getting familiar, explore.”

So he did. Santi started with touching. His index and middle finger swept along her folds, moving and opening her up for his view. She was beautiful. He started with the top, the area just below her pantyline tan skin under a bush of hair followed by her folds coming to a head.

“That’s the clit, that’s very important.” She took his fingers and pulled back the hood. “Touch there” When Santi complied, Candy sank back down on her bed with a hum.

Santi felt a swell of pride at giving her pleasure. “Is that good?”

“Very good, pretty boy. Lot of nerves right there.”

He continued touching below, feeling the way her skin moved to his touch and how his fingers slid across the slick, soft skin below… She looked delicious.

“Can I taste you?”

*

“Where do we even start with something like this?” Santi groaned, flopping his head back.

Javi couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. “Don’t be such a child, Garcia. You take this shit one step at a time, just like anything else. Let’s start with what we know.”

The handsome younger man sighed. “Fine.” He pulled out the casefiles and Javi noticed how much calmer he’d seemed, less high strung… still high strung but that was just Santiago, Javi came to realize. “Gabriel Martin Lorea, coke dealer, devout catholic and family man… none of which stops him from hiring hookers.”

Javi chuckles. “Few things do.”

“Well, marriage should, especially when you have children.” Santi glared at him. 

His naivete, something Javi had been dreading with a younger partner, ended up endearing Santi to him. “Right, right of course.” He smiled and shook his head before lighting up a cigarette.

“Do you really have to do that indoors?”

“So sue me. I’m the one smoking, it’s not like it can hurt you.”

“I don’t know, I heard of a study that secondhand smoke can-”

Javi blew a puff of smoke in Santi’s face. “That’s just anti-smoking propaganda pushed by doctors to sell more nicotine patches.”

*

Santi had dived right in. Once he had permission to taste, he very tentatively licked a strip up her folds and to the clit… and was suddenly a starved man, insatiable, desperate to devour her and drown in her juices.. She liked when he touched her clit so he was sure to latch his mouth over the hood. As he sucked, Candy instructed him to finger her and he was happy to oblige. This, he could handle at least.

“Good boy…” Candy cooed at him. “Such a good boy for me, so obedient.”

“Wanna be good.” He mumbled into your core as he lapped at her, hips rutting against the bed. “Wanna do good.”

When her fingers found his hair, tangling up in his curls and tugging just a bit, he couldn’t help but whine into her, toes curling in his socks.

“You’re doing so good, baby boy, so good, but I’m gonna need you to stop.”

Stop? He didn’t wanna stop. Santi wanted to die here with her… Was it time? How much time did he pay for- ait, he hadn’t even paid her yet. What was her going rate? He didn’t fucking care right now, right now he’d pay her his life savings, his military pension, his first born, whatever she wanted if he could cum. 

“Whyyyyy?!” He simply went back to eating her out, taking every moment he had.

“Because,” Candy pulled at his curls, forcing him to look up and crawl back up her golden body. “Because you are about to cum, and I still wanna ride you.”

He could feel his eyes go wide at that. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what that meant… but for someone who had only ever done missionary, the whole concept seemed so… dirty. Santi chuckled nervously, tucking his head into the crook of her neck. “I’ll be honest, Candy, I’m not sure how much longer I’m gonna last as it is.”

He felt her chuckle. “Let’s slow down for a moment, then. I want you to undress.”

His breath hitched, but he made the move to undo his pants until she stopped him.

“Uh-uh, Diego. Stand up. Let me watch you undress.”

Undress like… standing? By himself? All out there and naked? “Um… can’t I do it here?”

“You can.” She confirmed with a kind smile. “But I’d really like to watch you strip for me.”

How could he resist that? Tentative, slow and careful, Santi stood up and Candy sat on the edge of the bed, bottoms off but still clothed top. “Are you gonna take that off?” It was half a joke, half a genuine question.

Candy nodded. “I will, just trust me.”

And he did, with everything in him.

So he took off his shirt.

*

“Okay. Catholic. Do we know what church he goes to?”

Javi raised an eyebrow? “You think a drug lord is going to daily mass?”

“No, but if he’s devout I assume he’s got a family that goes. Wife and children maybe, but definitely a mother. I don’t know one woman over 50 who doesn’t belong to a perish, especially a hispaña woman.”

“You find a lot of company con mujeres mayor, amigo?”

“Shut up. I say we start there. If we can find out about his family's church, we can probably find out a little more.”

Apprehensive as always, Javi crossed his legs, doubtful. “I don’t know, what can we possibly find out?”

Santi shrugged. “Not sure, but churches have a lot of records when it comes to members and if he has a family that is active we might find out something useful.”

“Is this really the best use of our time?”

Javi raised a good point, this might be a dead end, and they would have wasted all that time. “Just give me a picture of all known families and I’ll keep an eye out.”

Now that caught Javi’s attention, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You go to church, Garcia?”

A faint blush crept up Santi’s neck. His mother was very religious, that religion instilled into him and his sister. His sister couldn’t care less anymore, but then again she had never cared much about their mother’s harsh opinions and strict standards… Santi did. And so, even now with her passing, Santi attended mass often. Not a part of a regular perish, he just attended where he could and when his schedule allowed. The old women there did love him, but Santi knew Javi would never let that go. “Tengo muchas tías y primos en la zona. Si no muestro mi cara en la iglesia a veces, se lo dirán a mi madre y nunca escucharé el final.”

Javi didn’t need to know his mom was dead.

*

Santi nervously slides down his trousers and underwear, revealing the last bit of himself to Candy. Except for his tube socks. He wasn't sure what to do about those.

“Can I… move now?” He asked, a tremble in his soft voice.

She cocked her head to the side. “Does it make you nervous? To be seen like this.”

“To be seen like what?”

Candy stood up. “Naked, vulnerable, in full lighting…” She walked over towards him and placed her hands on her chest. “To let someone be able to see every part, every dip…” She felt over the ripples of his stomach muscles. “Every.” Lower. “Single.” Lower. “Inch.” Grabbing onto his hardened cock and began stroking it.

Santi let out a shuttered gasp at the touch of her hand. With her other one she lifted it to his mouth. “Lick, pretty boy.”

He was happy to oblige, not needing to know why. He didn’t need to ask questions with her, he could simply shut off his mind and let Candy guide him… mother knows best. Santi lapped at her palm, keening into it as the wetness smeared on his face.

“Such a good puppy”

The whine that emitted from him was out of him control; he liked the praise, he liked the nickname. He liked it a lot. He had been taught his whole life that sex was for procreation, a dirty thing to be done in shame and in quiet but here she was, proudly jerking him off with the now-wet hand… His mom would have said she was consumed by lust, that the devil had taken her, but Santo saw nothing but kindness in her eyes. Yes, he was paying her, he was well aware of that fact but she did genuinely seem to want to help him, to let him explore, to allow him to care for this basic human instinct… Was this dirty? Was this wrong? He wasn’t sure he cared anymore.

“Doing so good baby boy, are you close?”

He was seconds away from coming. “S-so close.” He had his head thrown back, letting her take the lead on his pleasure.

With that, she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, stifling his impending orgasm.

“Mierde!” Santiago grunted, body jolting a bit in the physical frustration.

“Relaje, guapo. Trust me, okay? Can you do that?”

He groaned, but complied. Santi trusted her with everything. Right now, he’d follow her into the dark.

*

“Alright, so Pope Santiago will case the churches in his free time. Where does that leave us during the time we actually get paid for?” Javi thought the nickname was fitting for the apparently religious boy.

“I think we need to learn more about his free time.” Javi put out his cigarette. “How about we talk to some girls, see if they know anything?”

Santi narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Girls?”

“Hookers, Pope, hookers.”

“Oh.” 

Javi noticed how he suddenly became so nervous. The boy needed to get laid. The new information of Santi being at least semi-religious was a whole new insight on his psyche. He already seemed to be a bit of a mama’s boy, a goody-two-shoes with a shiny military career and a good heart, but this was a little different. Javier’s family was catholic, as most families were. He had been baptized, first communion, confirmed, the whole jazz but as soon as he’d got annoying enough, his mom stopped bushing the issue. Santi, however, was still practicing.

“I’ll handle that part, Garcia. Don’t worry, I won't drag the Pope into a whore house.”

Javi had no doubt Santi could hold his own in most scenarios. Hell, he’d seen it. In line of fire, interviews, everything Santi could handle. But take him into a room full of prostitutes? Well, they’d eat him alive.

*

“Are you ready for me, pretty boy?” You had him right where you wanted him, right where you liked pretty boys like him that you got to corrupt in moments like this… Santiago was special though, you could tell. He was innocent, but he was far from the most innocent. You’d taken plenty of virginities before, so many you’d lost track of it all, but the way Santiago looked at you right now as he was sat up against the padded headboard of your bed slowly stroking him as your legs straddled his. Santiago looked at you with reverence, adoration, like he was fully submitted below you… as if you had the power, even though it was in his hands as the customer. Yeah, he was a special one. 

 A good, young DEA agent, straightline former military, special Ops and he came to you to show him how to pleasure a woman; not just to have sex, not just to get off, but to learn how to heighten the pleasure of all parties… A church going boy too. 

“Do I need to beg? Because I’ll fucking beg.” His hands were gripped at the sheets, lightning at the knuckles.

“Oh sweet boy, I won’t make you beg, I’m just checking in.” You sit up, rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds. Pulling down the foreskin, you begin to sink down on him, watching his eyes widen as your warmth enveloped him. He filled you right up. Every. Single. Inch.

“Breath baby, breath.” You urge him as you see his lips pressed tight together. 

He did as he was told, releasing a breath. 

“Good job. Now keep breathing, I’m going to finish undressing.” His cock was stuffed into you, and your bottom remained still as your top moved, stipping off your shirt and bra in one. 

It was merely a whisper. “Beautiful…” His eyes were nearly glazed over in lust when you began your work.

Up, down, up, down… you moved on him with your hands on his chest for balance… he seemed almost in shock as he looked in your eyes, only staying momentarily to look at your breasts before quickly looking back at your face as if it was impolite.

“It’s okay to look, Diego. You won’t offend me. You can find me sexy, do you think I’m sexy, Diego?”

“So pretty…” It was gasped out and you could tell he was almost there again.

You began to bounce on him with more vigor and the “You can touch me too”

“I’m… I’m a little scared too…”

Running your fingers through his curls, you ruffle it, enjoying the look of the pristine young man coming undone for you. You take the initiative for him. Hand in hand, you guide him to your breasts, encouraging Santiago to grope and squeeze as he liked and you reveal in the feeling of feeling of his excited pawing. He was enraptured in you, you and him were the only thing that matter right now, and you knew it. You stretched around him,  and you knew it had to be one hell of sight.

“Watch” Pulling him by his curls you guide him to look down where you and him connected, letting him watch the watch your cunt moved to accommodate him, making room to be filled over and over again. “See how my body let’s you in? I was made for you, pretty boy. I was made to take you inside me.”

The thick stretch was bringing you closer, and you knew he was only holding on by a thread himself, so you began to touch yourself. “Focus on that feeling, Diego. The feeling of us together. Can you feel it? I sure can.”

“I- I can, yes.” He was panting now, his bare tanned chest heaving with every bounce of you tits in his hands. 

“Yes what?” But he looked up at you in confusion, a desperation on his face to be good, do good, do this all right. “Yes ma’am”

“Yes ma- ma’ammmm” With that, Santiago’s hits thrust upward into you, his eyes drilled shut and mouth tightly closed in his attempt to muffle his own release.

You did no such thing. As he filled you up, you spilled over yourself and felt the gushing release of your cunt soaking his cock, you yelled out for him, letting him know how good he made you feel. Relaxing onto his chest, Santiago wraps his arms around you like an affection-starved child, and you get a little hint into what you think this was all about.

He needed praise. He needed fondness. He needed skin to skin contact like nothing else right now. He needed to be a good person and do it all right and know he was doing it right. 

Santiago needed to be loved.

*****************

IM BACK

Sorry i know it was a wait lmfao. I posted like 3 chapters of the wrong way sequel before this one lolololol OOPS

But i promise I got a fun plan for this fic! I hope you all enjoy.

Remember, reblogs are the only real way to spread work! Please consider relogging to support this writing.

Comments mean the world to me!

Asks are always open to discuss this fic or my others, but also for non fandom too! Talk to me about anything you're excited about! I wanna get to know you all.

Also, as a note im trying my best for historic acuracy but I know narcos goes from like 70's onward but this stays in the 70's. Pretend Pablo Escabar isn't an issue anymore lmfao.

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @itspdameronthings @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolbool @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @axshadows @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @laiisleitte @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleurs @ninebluehearts @puglover12

[asa-do-your-thing]

Not me getting excited with your prospective fics, adding them like i'm carrying a shopping cart 💀😂

- Otto with a corruption kink finds out his object of desire is Married and has severe cognitive dissonance (this sounds so interesting)

- Criston x F Reader but ancient Greek mythology (i stan one problematic misogynist)

- Jace fucking reader in the rain (outdoors?!?! F yeah)

- Cregan tries to gift you a direwolf only to find out that the direwolf has separation anxiety (uwu time! 🥺)

Haha thank you for your enthusiasm! I cannot write all at once (so just keep an eye out for the rest ;) ) but here is your Gilf ficlet:

"My Marble Statue "

Otto Hightower x F! Reader - 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Sex/Smut, fellatio, fingering, big age gap, power imbalance, otto is the main character so automatic misogyny warning, implied violence, religion, abuse of power, dubcon, alcohol

Otto Hightower, the King’s Hand, was a man in his sixties, whose days were normally spent at court, advising the King and, essentially, ruling the country on his behalf. He had been appointed to his post for many years and was respected and feared by all who knew him.

At court, Otto was accustomed to being surrounded by beautiful ladies, draped in luxurious fabrics and vying for the Princes’ attention. Although he had grown used to life as a widower and taking a new bride had never truly been on his mind; most young women would seemingly resist his ideal of a perfect, modest and religious wife. But one day, Otto's gaze locked with that of an unfamiliar woman. She seemed to be of a lower station than the others, possibly a lady-in-waiting or courtier’s daughter. She was much younger than the other ladies, yet her features were aglow with an innocent beauty that left Otto utterly captivated.

He felt himself drawn to her, as if an unseen force were pulling him closer and closer. He watched with rapt attention as she moved around the court, her every movement bewitching in its grace and elegance. Her conversations were polite yet restrained, her eyes flitting quickly away whenever a man drew close to her. In the light of day, she stood in the sept like a marble statue - a beautiful image of piety and modesty. His breath caught as he noticed that her eyes were dark like coal, her hair even darker as it ran down her back like ink spilled from a quill. Every fiber of his being yearned for her, but she was beyond reach; it stirred something inside him - a fire that had been smoldering for ages, pulsing through every vein in his body until it all rushed at once to his loins and pressed urgently against the fabric of his breeches.

He felt the irresistible pull of attraction towards her as he saw her in court. He knew it was wrong—she was so young and innocent, and he was the King’s Hand sworn to serve justice with a calm impartiality. Yet despite knowing that their relationship would be difficult, if not impossible, Otto could not deny his hunger for her. The days that followed brought him more difficulty than ever before, as Otto found himself continually yearning for her and made every effort to speak with her without letting his desires take over. With each conversation, he did his best to keep his thoughts on virtuous matters, though he still noticed the curves of her body as she moved.

He was amazed at how quickly she seemed to take to him, and all too soon, his heart felt like it was taking flight. He had not expected to find himself in a situation such as this, but his feelings for her were too strong for him to ignore. He continued to fight against his feelings, knowing that he must remain a loyal subject to the King, but he could not deny the deep love and lust he felt for the woman he had only just met.

One night, after years of unspoken desire, Otto could no longer contain his urge to propose. Yet when he arrived at the young woman's chambers, he found her intoxicated with other ladies of the court. His heart was heavy as he swept her away from imminent danger and carried her into her bedroom, quickly dismissing the other young girls. The moment they entered, his breath was taken away by the room - a star-studded ceiling depicting heavenly scenes; walls adorned with tapestries of legendary battles and mythical creatures; a giant bed draped in velvet curtains of blue and green. Otto couldn't help but feel an undeniable tension between them as he set her on her feet with tenderness.

He was enthralled by her beauty, his heart racing as he took in every exquisite detail - from her porcelain skin that looked like polished ivory, to her lips that were like perfect rosebuds. "Thank you so much, Ser Otto...," she whispered sweetly and flashed him a small smile, before kicking off her slippers and laying down on the bed. All thoughts of proposing had been forgotten, replaced with an uncontrollable desire to take her right then and there. "May... may I help you with anything, my Lord?", she asked shyly, looking at him with the most tantalizing doe-eyed gaze he had ever seen.

Giving in to his primal urge, he stepped closer and grabbed her head between his hands, pulling her into a passionate kiss. "Lay down, I need you. I need your eyes to look at me like your sweetheart; I need your whispers to call out my name, I need you..." he growled hungrily, pushing up her dress to expose her pale hips which he kissed fervently, leaving thick red marks as evidence of his hunger.

Otto spread her trembling legs wider and hissed in pleasure as his fingers slid easily into her slick sweetness. He murmured into her mouth, "It seems you need me too...", his voice deep and urgent. With a steady rhythm his tongue explored her eager lips while his fingers stroked her deeper, faster. His breathing grew ragged as he savored every moan that escaped from her. "Gods, you are so tight...my innocent, beautiful girl," he murmured between desperate kisses, delighting in the way she melted for him.

He felt her powers pulling him in as she tugged him onto the bed, next to her. There was no hesitation, no room for doubt. "Otto, please don't stop.." She purred and enveloped him in a tight embrace. Quickly undoing his breeches, he nodded at her. "Strip down, my Lady, I must feast my eyes on your perfect body..."

With one fluid motion, the dress was off her shoulders and she lay flat on the bed beside him, being pulled inexorably towards his throbbing manhood. His voice quavered as he murmured in her ear "I need to feel your soft lips encase me." Unable to answer with words, he simply nodded as she tenderly took him into her hands and gazed up at him with searching eyes. "Can I?", she asked softly while tracing circles around his moist tip. Even now she was kind and humble...

In this moment, Otto felt like a god among gods. His body hummed with pleasure as the young woman beneath him looked up with wide eyes begging for more. He could feel her mouth around his manhood and the soft wetness of her tongue - he wanted to stay in this bliss forever. He tightened his grip on her head and deepened the penetration while she let out a loud moan that shivered through every inch of his aroused body. His pleasure surged and threatened to overwhelm him but he wouldn't give in just yet.

He tightly gripped her soft hips with his hands and dragged her body against his hard warmth. His eyes seared into her, smoldering with hunger as he breathed the words "Do you want me inside you?" against her lips. She shuddered in desire and nodded eagerly, arching herself up to meet him. With a deep guttural moan, Otto positioned himself between her quivering legs and thrust himself into her tightness. The pleasure was almost unbearable but they both felt it course through their veins as he slowly moved back and forth. His voice was low and commanding now: "Take me, my little dove, I know you can... Be good for me..."

From the moment he entered her, his instinctive desire drove him to move beyond what he thought was possible. Her warmth enveloped him, consuming his mind and shutting out everything else. The only thing that filled his being was her delicate scent and velvet skin, hearing her heavenly moans as she clung tightly to him with each thrust. As his climax grew closer, he knew he should have pulled away to release on the bed, but he could not resist the deep, quivering heat inside her. When his climax arrived, a loud cry of her name burst from him before he collapsed onto her exhausted body, trapping her beneath his own.

Having caught his breath, she gently pushed him to the side and quickly threw on her dress again and grinned. "Husband!", she called towards the other end of the room, where a small door opened and Larys Clubfoot emerged with an even larger smile. "Good evening, Ser Otto."

Otto's post-orgasmic haze quickly cleared as he saw her and Larys together, their hands intertwined with gleaming rings around each of their fingers. Though his mind was still slightly clouded from his encounter, Otto could not help but feel a huge wave of shame as the reality of what had happened sunk in. He had thought she was pure and innocent, but in the end it had been nothing more than a ploy by Larys to get something to hold against him in the future. It seemed she had indeed not been as naive as he'd thought, and this knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Larys continued smiling at him while the woman who had just moments ago taken his pleasure stood beside him with an air of satisfaction about her. "Congratulations wife, now let us hope that the King's Hand shall be more cautious about his decisions in the future", he said before nodding at Otto and turning away with her on his arm, disappearing again in the hidden caverns below King's Landing. Otto watched them leave, realizing too late that he should have known better than to even consider taking such risks - no matter how tempting they may be. "I shall hang you, you disgusting wretch! Behead you, Clubfoot!", he screamed and buried his face in his hands.

He remained rooted to the spot, his mind in a whirl and an ache in his heart. He had acted so rashly; he was paying the price for his foolishness now. His reputation was fractured, and there was no longer any chance of finding the kind of innocent love that he had always longed for - and yet here he was, feeling nothing but regret at the choices he had made.

Otto promised himself he would never look for love again. He wanted to focus on his own success and reputation, no matter the cost. As he walked away from the room, one thing was certain: what had already happened could not be changed. But despite this vow, thoughts of the mysterious woman lingered in his mind.

[misslavenderlady]

Hello Lavender I recently came across your page your writing is wonderful and I love it. May I request demon The lost boys + Micheal x nun reader smut very smutty if your up for it. I can’t wait to read this wonderful story you have planned out :).

Mary On A Cross 🛐

David/Marko/Dwayne/Paul/Michael/Female!Reader

Summary: Just because you're a holy woman on sacred ground doesn't mean you're safe from the temptations of Hell. The true test of your faith will be when five demons come to play~

Thank you @xxryn for the writing request! I appreciate your patience. This came out so much longer than I planned. I'm not Catholic (or even religious for that matter), but I did a lot of research about the church and nuns. Forgive me if some stuff isn't accurate.

WARNINGS: Nsfw/Smut/18+ Readers Only, Dub Con, Nun!Reader, Female!Reader, Virgin!Reader, Sex Dreams, Temptation, Religion Kink, Shame, Confessions, Prayer, Demons/Incubus, Teratophilia, Flirting, Pet Names, Groping, Pretending to be a priest, Sex on an Altar, Sex in a church, Group Sex, Vaginal Sex, Taking virginity, Nippleplay, Licking, Spanking, Dom/Sub, Clit rubbing, Mutual masturbation, Circle jerk, Dirty Talk, Praying, Creampie, Sex feeding

“Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last confession. These are my sins.”  

You really felt like a failure for having to do this, but it was absolutely necessary. The struggles you were dealing with had worsened recently, and you feared that your will was being tested. Still, you had to be strong. That was why you were in the confessional, sharing your sins with the hidden priest.  

For as long as you could remember, you were devoted to your religion. It was a significant part of your life growing up. You attended many christenings, weddings, and funerals held at your family’s church of choice. Rain or shine, you went every Sunday to sing and pray. Your teen years were a balancing act between academic life and your duties for the church. Every authority figure in your life praised you for being such a good kid.  

So that’s what you decided to devote yourself to as an adult. You knew nothing of life besides faith, so you followed the path to becoming a nun. It was no small task to complete, yet you were more than dedicated. You gave up your luxuries, promised your vows, and joined your convent to live a humble life that was fully devoted to God. It was hard work, yet you handled it with ease.  

That was, until recently.  

Temptations had begun to creep into your daily life, attempting to slip into the cracks of your spirit and corrupt your very soul. Though such things would seem normal to an average person, you were a woman of God. You had to be disciplined, and you knew the smallest tests of faith could spiral out of control.  

It had started with rather sensual dreams that you had in the dead of night. Every time you slipped into a deep slumber, visions of handsome men and bare bodies danced around in your mind. They whispered lewd promises and sang out the most depraved moans you’d ever heard. The first time you had such a dream, you had woken with a start, completely drenched in sweat. You were sure you were ill with some kind of fever.  

But it didn’t stop after that.  

It was a bit different each time. Sometimes you saw a blond. Other times it was a brunet. One night, the voices promised to be gentle and make love to you. The next night, the voices demanded to fuck you like a wild animal. It made your head spin with each passing night. Though you never really remembered the faces when you woke up, you always had a dripping heat in between your legs. Cold showers had certainly become your friend.  

The shame you felt was getting worse. Everything you knew about sex was from the educational courses in school long ago. That, and there were some rather colorful remarks made by the boys whenever you wore a skirt to class. Such temptations never swayed you before, but this time was different.  

You desperately tried to pour yourself into your work. You chanted plenty of Hail Marys, spent hours each day praying and read the bible over and over again. Whenever a charity event was planned, you were the hardest worker involved. Your fellow nuns were so proud of the work you did, yet you still held a pang of guilt deep inside.  

That’s why you were confessing these sins today. You shared these erotic dreams with the intention of clearing your conscience.  

“I cannot silence these dreams, Father,” you said in exasperation. “It has gotten to a point where I can feel my mind slipping back to them during the day. Whenever I try to do my work for God, I see these images of lust and I feel...dirty.”  

“I see. While you are a faithful woman to God, it is important to remember that you are still human. We all have temptations that make us stray from the path, but we all find our way in the end,” the priest explained to you. “In fact, you truly have not done anything wrong for these are visions beyond your control. After all, you have not done anything to act on such desires.”  

Your stomach twisted with guilt. It reminded you of your days of youth when you confessed to silly things like sneaking a treat from the cookie jar or lying to your parents about where you went with your friends after school. You never did anything truly wild, but the guilt made you feel small and weak.  

“That’s the problem, Father. I...like those dreams. I find myself wanting to act on the desires they give me. Wanting to experience that pleasure...oh God, help me, I’m so ashamed...”  

Every time you dreamed of sexual conquests beyond your wildest imaginations, you felt the need to quench your thirst grow stronger and stronger. There was a time long ago when you had realized how good it felt to rub yourself on your pillow, but you were too scared of the consequences to complete your pleasure. The temptation to explore your body and satisfy the lustful ache was worsening.  

“My child,” the priest interrupted your thoughts. “You are not alone in this world. There will always be love and appreciation for who you are. These dreams are a test for you, nothing more. A test of what you are truly capable of. It may be scary, but you must have faith in yourself. Perhaps you will find that you will become stronger than you ever imagined. It will all be okay in the end; I can promise you that.”  

You exhaled, still wary of what you were experiencing, but feeling a lot better thanks to the kind words of the priest who listened to your confession. There was genuine care in his voice, and you appreciated him for not being judgmental of your struggle.  

"Should you find yourself facing the temptation again, come to the sacred ground of the church so you can share these struggles alone with God. You may find that solitude will provide the clarity you need to overcome this challenge and come out stronger than ever." 

That was certainly something you could do. With a hail Mary and a thank you to the priest, you stepped out of the confessional. You would keep his words of guidance in mind as you went about your duties for the day.  

With the moon shining down to bring another beautiful night, it was time to sleep. Your plain, white nightgown was draped over your frame, ready to keep you warm and safe during the hours of slumber. You prayed before tucking yourself in, asking for a dreamless sleep.  

Though as you shut your eyes and drifted off, that prayer was swiftly proven to go ignored.  

It was so innocent at first. Nothing but pure silence in your dreams as you rest. Then the familiar forms of your frequent visitors appeared before you. They weren’t entirely clear in your vision, but you knew these were the men you had seen night after night. One stood out more than the others, a faded image of platinum hair and a long coat. Even with his face hidden, you knew he was smirking. He always was.  

“She’s ready for us,” he purred. His voice was muffled as if he was speaking underwater. A gloved hand reached out to you, caressing the side of your face. Even in your sleep, the sensation felt so real. It made you want to squirm away, but your body remained paralyzed. 

“Now now, my pet. Do not fight us. We’ve waited for this night for so long.”  

The other figures moved closer, each moving to a different side of you. They trapped you in a circle, hovering over you. You could not see their eyes, but you certainly could feel them watching you. Never before had you felt so vulnerable.  

Playful giggles teased your ears, mocking you as their hands caressed your body. Still, your ability to move was taken away and you could not get yourself to wake up. The more these figures played with you, the stronger your fear became.  

You were under their control, up until the moment when the leader of this nefarious gang of dream monsters finally revealed his eyes to you. Yellow. Sickly yellow in a sea of red.  

“It’s time to wake up.” 

The spell was broken, and your eyes shot open. Your body was free and immediately shot up in a panicked jolt as your senses finally came back. Goosebumps were littered across your skin and your heart was pumping faster than ever. Those hands that touched you. They felt so real. Like it wasn’t in a dream.  

That wasn’t the scariest part though. What truly struck fear into your heart was how wet you were. The slick in between your legs could not be ignored. Your thighs clenched together, trying to fight off the tingling sensation that taunted you so. Even though the dream frightened you, it enticed you as well. The battle for maintaining your status as a holy woman was still going on.  

You had to fight for your faith. 

With a toss of your bed sheets, you slipped on your shoes and dressed in your robe and habit. A bible was held in one hand and your rosary beads in the other. The cover of darkness cloaked you as you maneuvered around corridors and corners, making your way to the church.  

You knew the path well. Day and night you prayed away in the church of your convent. It was a place of safety, and seeing the familiar statues and stained glass when you opened the doors immediately washed away most of your fears. The soft glow of candlelight beckoned you, giving a warm welcome as you kneeled in front of the altar. With the sign of the cross, you prayed. 

“Lord, with your bright and open heart, forgive me for showing darkness to the light. Putting my back, to what is right was wrong, and I have sinned against you. Forgive me, O merciful one, because I have relished my wrongs and I am sorry for what I have done. Lord I am ready to continue following in your footsteps. Take me from the dark. Hear me now, O lord. Amen.” 

Satisfied with your prayer, you basked in the silence of the church, taking the time to think about what you had done. You were strong. You were devoted.  

But you certainly weren’t alone.  

“Now what's so bad about the dark~?” 

Your eyes shot open at the sound of a voice speaking to you. It wasn’t across the room, but rather right behind you. Turning your head around, you were face to face with a visitor in your church. A man towered above your kneeling form, dark clothes draped over him, and hair striking platinum.  

This man was so very familiar. Though you didn’t know who he was, your gut was telling you that this was someone you had seen night after night. Still, you couldn’t believe such a thing. Surely, this was not the one that danced around in your dreams. It had to be some kind of coincidence. 

“Wh-who are you, Sir?” you questioned timidly. With your eyes locked on the man, you rose to your feet, clutching your rosary as tightly as possible.  

The closer you got to him, the better you could study his features. He was a truly beautiful man. Stubbled cheeks and icy blue eyes. You were a celibate woman, but you were still human. The priest you spoke to had reminded you of such a thing when you went into confession. Still, you would not be swayed.  

“Why, my sweet little darling, don’t you recognize me?”  

Your heart dropped in your chest. The blood in your veins went ice cold. This couldn’t possibly be happening.  

“I think she’s shy, David.” 

The new voice immediately made you jump in fright, as it was spoken right next to you. While clinging to your chest, you looked to the side to find a man with dark hair and eyes gazing intensely at you. Where on Earth did he come from? 

“I think you’re right, Dwayne. What’s goin’ on with her, Paul?” 

To the other side, a shorter man with flowing curls of gold eyed you hungrily. There was pure wickedness in his hazel eyes, and you did not like that at all.  

“Wait a minute, who wants to know, Marko?”  

Another. Right behind you. A shriek came from your mouth as you spun around, coming face to face with a blond-haired, blue-eyed man lounging casually on the altar. The four strangers snickered at your reaction, clearly amused by your fear.  

This really wasn’t good. You were a woman all alone in the church, surrounded by four incredibly intimidating men. There was no way any good could come out of such a situation. All you could do was grasp at the cross around your neck and pray to God to show you mercy.  

The one they called David took your hand, moving you so you would face him again. His smirk grew wider as he brought your hand up, kissing the back of it. The way his beard scratched at your soft skin made you feel dizzy. A twinkle danced in his eye, no doubt from the amusement of how timidly you reacted to such a gesture.  

“We’ve been visiting you night after night, my dear,” he cooed. “Surely you would recognize the sounds of lust we sang to you while you slept~” 

Before you could even get a word out, the other three men pushed in closer to you. They each moaned and whispered lewdly, perfectly clear for you to listen. Your cheeks flushed at the sounds, completely overwhelmed. All the while, David watched with delight.  

“I...STOP! Stop it!” you cried out. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re not welcome here!” 

“Awww that’s not true, sweetheart,” Paul giggled behind you. “Aren’t all God’s kids welcome and all that?” 

“I dunno, Paulie. We’re not exactly related to ‘God’. Quite the opposite,” Marko added. 

Something about that made your stomach churn. There was something far more sinister in what he meant. You trembled as the boys traded looks with one another. They surely weren’t up to any good. You were about to find out just how dangerous they truly were.  

“I think it’s about time we show you exactly who...or rather what we are~” David smirked.  

You didn’t know what to expect by such a confusing statement. It was only when the blue in David’s eyes faded away and the glow of gold took its place that you realized how grave the situation was. They were the same demonic eyes you saw before you awoke.  

And the transformation only got worse.  

Before your very eyes, David and the other boys morphed into inhuman creatures. Their figures towered higher and their hands stretched out longer, talon-like claws growing from the tips. They salivated with mouthfuls of fangs. The clothes on their bodies faded into mere clouds of smoke, leaving their beautiful figures completely bare. Without the clothing, they had the freedom to show what they had been hiding behind their backs.  

Deep, crimson wings unfurled from their shoulders, stretching out to present their truly massive size. The shape and form mimicked that of bats, only far more jagged and sharp in appearance. Impish tails slithered out as well, slithering across the ground much like snakes.  

You were speechless. Horrified. Demons were right here in your church, completely surrounding you. Your body felt hollow, nothing but the void of dread swallowing you whole. There wasn’t even strength in your voice to scream.  

If it weren’t for the doors of the church opening up at the other side of the church, you would have been paralyzed with fear for eternity. Your prayers must have been answered because a priest was standing in the doorway. Young and strong, just the hero you needed.  

"HELP ME, FATHER!" you screamed out, finding the strength to push past the demons and sprint straight into the holy man's arms.  

"What's going on here?" he asked, holding you close. You already felt much safer in his embrace. His voice seemed familiar. Comforting.  

"There are demons! Real, unholy demons on sacred ground!" you cried out. He held you tighter as you hid from the sight of the monsters. "You must perform an exorcism at once! Please!!" 

The priest soothed you, holding you close to his chest. Demonic laughter taunted your fears. You couldn’t understand why they were so powerful in a church, but you had faith in the priest and his ability to cast them out. They had to be vulnerable in some way.  

“I’m so sorry. I really am. Please forgive me...” 

Before you could even ask what he was apologizing for, David spoke out to him directly.  

“You did your job, Michael. Get out of that ridiculous disguise and bring our little lady over here.” 

In a flash, your heart stopped in your chest. The man who you thought was coming to your rescue was one of the monsters. He proved it as much as he transformed before your very eyes. His chest and arms shifted around you morphing into unnatural length. The priest disguise faded away and his own pair of demon wings stretching outward. 

Gazing into his glowing eyes, you could swear there was still a human glint remaining. Perhaps his guilt was true for betraying you. Still, that certainly didn’t stop him from lifting you up into his arms and holding you tightly so he could carry you back toward his beastly friends.  

“NO! God in Heaven, save me!!” you screamed out, striking Michael’s chest with your fists in vain.  

“God ain’t here, babydoll~” Dwayne chuckled. 

“We’re the only beings you’re gonna worship now~” Paul added.  

Your body trembled as the five beings watched you carefully. They were so much bigger and stronger compared to you. When David reached forward to caress your cheek, you winced, fearful of how easily he could hurt you.  

“C’mon, darling girl, there’s no need to be frightened,” he cooed. Michael passed you to him, whispering another apology before letting you go. David smiled down at you as he carried you up the steps that you had been kneeling on just moments ago.  

“We’re not here to hurt you. Nor are we here to bring you to Hell. That’s not the kinda thing we do with humans~” 

He nodded towards Marko, silently signaling the curly-haired demon to clear the items at the altar so he had space to put you down. The man smirked with delight before swiping his claws over the table, letting the holy objects clatter to the floor below.  

You felt utterly dirty being laid down over the altar from the look of mischievousness in his eyes. There was a growing fear of just what would he would do. How could you possibly trust his word to not bring you any harm? 

“My brothers and I are very special demons,” he explained. You whined as his clawed fingers gripped at your habit. That too was tossed aside, letting your hair become exposed. “We are incubi. Do you know what that is, dear?” 

As a matter of fact, you did.  

They were creatures that fed on the desires of man. Usually, they manifested in dreams and had “sex” with their victims as a way to obtain their energy. Now all of those dirty images you dreamt of made sense. They were the monsters that tempted you so with lust.  

“I’m sorry, honey. David’s kind of mean about these things,” Michael chimed in. He was perched at the other side of the altar, fingers petting your hair as an act of kindness. “I told you, they are nothing to be ashamed of. We’re more than happy to give you the things you want. We feel good when you feel good.” 

Now you were really upset. You looked at Michael with disgust in your heart.  

“You....you monster! I trusted you! I didn’t talk to an actual priest! My sins....oh they haven’t been forgiven...” 

While you wept in fear and frustration, the other boys crowded. Though you wanted to scream out in terror, you silenced yourself when you found no danger in their touch. The boys shushed and cooed in your ears, kissing and massaging you while David and Michael still held you down.  

They were demons. Monsters that would surely destroy you. And yet, their touch made you feel....good. Amazing, in fact. You had never experienced the embrace of a lover, yet they were far more delightful than you had anticipated.  

Surely it was their power influencing you. Clouding your judgment.  

“We’re still good on our word, darling. Our very nature is to bring pleasure to beauties such as yourself~”  

David's fingers traced over your hipbones, teasing you before slinking over your inner thighs. Though you tensed at how close he was getting, the others lulled you back into your sense of calm. 

“We’ve had our eyes on you for quite some time now. We sent little Michael here to act as our eyes and ears and study you better. You are truly an adorable thing. Sweet. Innocent. Virginal.” 

A soft gasp fell from your lips as his hands slipped under your robe, claws pulling at your underwear. You shivered as the fabric slipped down your legs. All around you, the boys eyed the garment with hunger, no doubt getting anxious to divulge in your body.  

“We don’t just want to take you, my dear,” David whispered. You shook terribly as he grabbed at your legs, opening them up like the gates of Heaven. He was pressed up against your lower body, teasing you with his length. This was really happening.  

You were going to lose your virginity to a demon. God would never forgive you for this, but your body would never want to forget it.  

“Tonight, we’re going to make you our bride. And that means....consummating the marriage~” 

The last thing you heard before he sunk in was the devious laughter of his demon brothers. Immediately, your back arched and your cunt clenched, so unfamiliar with such a sensation. To your shock, he slid in easily, despite being so massive. You hadn’t realized how soaked you were up until that very moment. God, you really had been so blind to how much you wanted this.  

“Fuuuuuck, this pussy is perfect,” David growled, his voice far too low and distorted to be human. The others watched in delight, each enjoying the show. Still, they didn’t forget about you.  

Dwayne’s tongue and teeth played with the skin of your neck, finding patterns that made you squeal the loudest. Marko’s hands lewdly groped you through your robe, pinching the sensitive nipples underneath to make them stand out. Paul joined David’s work, nimble fingers traveling down over your clit to start a circling motion. It reminded you of your previous experience with experimentation.  

Michael was truly the sweetest out of them all. He held your face in his hands as he leaned in to kiss you. He wasn’t a deviant like the others. There was genuine romance in the way he kissed. It gave you that fluttery sensation in your stomach that your friends in school had talked about.  

“Are you frightened now, my little love?” David asked, watching you closely.  

“I....ooooh..mm!!....a....l-little...” you mewled. He filled you so deeply, it was impossible to concentrate on anyone but him. “Oh....I’ll tr-truly be sent to Hell....for th-this....” 

That made the others giggle playfully. You had broken your vow to God, and they were enjoying every moment of it.  

“Aww dontcha worry, babygirl,” Dwayne cooed in between licks. 

“Why don’t you say one of your prayers?” Marko suggested, flashing a fanged grin.  

“I’m sure God will forgive you for getting your cunt filled in a church if ya do~” Paul teased as he picked up the pace, getting you to wiggle and sigh some more. 

While your body was caught up in the intense pleasure, you got your mind back on the prayer you said every day. David threw your legs over his shoulders, pushing in deeper inside you. Seeing you so helpless was truly driving him wild. 

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy Name.....Thy Kingdom come...oooh...Thy will be d-done in earth....A-As it is...nmmm!..in heaven..” 

You prayed quietly, gripping tight to your rosary as David kept up his thrusting. He and the others were so wild, yet they worked so perfectly together. Your attempts to cling to your holy ways only added fuel to the fire within them. They each toyed with you more and more, hungry for you in all your innocent glory. 

“Say it louder, pet,” David demanded. He struck your ass with a spank to further the point. “Be a good girl for us~” 

“Give us this d-day...our....our daily bread...aaahh...and forgive us our trespasses, as w-we forgive those that trespass....f-fu..against us..!!” 

There was something happening inside you. Something that you never experienced before. It was growing stronger by the minute, ready to consume your entire being. It made your mind go fuzzy, and it paired well with the fast thrusting of David’s cock. Your voices and sounds of sex echoed off the church walls.  

“That’s it, sweetheart~” Michael whispered. He and the others had each begun to stroke themselves while David took you. The flush in your cheeks only got stronger when you saw their massive cocks around you. They all made the most vulgar sounds.  

David was fucking you faster now, no doubt to chase his own rising pleasure. You didn’t know what would happen, but you wanted it.  

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil...For....For thine is the kingdom, th-the power, and the gl...glory...For....e-ever and ever....Amen!” 

By what was surely a miracle of God himself, you managed to finish your prayer. Just at the right time too, as your built-up desire finally overcame you, hitting you swiftly with pleasure.  

“OOOhhh my God, David!!” you cried out for the demon. Your beautiful voice calling his name finally allowed the incubus to climax as well. He pushed himself in as much as he could, cumming deep within your sacred body. His brothers followed closely, all growling out while they marked you with their seed.  

You shuddered from the unfamiliar sensation. It was so warm and gooey on your body, and it absolutely ruined your robes. Still, all you could truly think about was how amazing they looked after all of it. David, especially, was looking quite satisfied.  

They hadn’t lied. You truly had an amazing time. If they weren’t monsters from Hell, you would have thought it was like being blessed by an angel. They certainly were beautiful enough to be such beings. But while you were feeling drowsy with how relaxed you were, the five of them had a newfound energy. After all, they technically had just fed.  

And by the way they were licking their lips and eyeing you carefully, you had a strong feeling they wanted some dessert too.  

“Ooooh you’re never getting rid of us now, sweet girl,” David purred. “We’re gonna have a hell of a night with our new wife~” 

Tag List: @ghoulgeousimmaculate @britany1997 @6lostgirl6

[simpymf]

𝐈𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐒 pt. 3/3

⌈ OBEY ME LUCIFER x OC ⌋

(n.) vision, apparition, manifestation; phenomenon, spectacle, sight; (religion) revelation

CONTENT WARNINGS: SMUT · CORRUPTION KINK · DUBCON · ROLEPLAY · DARK-ish · RELIGIOUS THEMES · CREEPY · CONSENSUAL · SIZE DIFFERENCE · SLIGHT CUMPLAY · BREEDING KINK · PRAISE · PARANORMAL-ish · DACRYPHILIA · CHURCH

Word count: 9465 words

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Ahhh, the last part. The smut you obviously want most. I don't blame ya, I'm a sucker for smut. This is, uhhh, quite a smutty smut, so go feral ig. Teehee.

Have fun with this final part. Cha cha <3

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“I need you to get on your knees, little lamb,” in a naturally intimidating and sincere voice, Lucifer instructs Sister Destiny on her next move.

“M-My knees?” she repeats, her words coming out slightly incoherent—only such would occur when one has their cheeks squished by a frighteningly tall, supernatural being.

“Yes, your knees,” he answers, lowering his red, gloved hand from Sister Destiny’s cheeks only to trail it over her white bib collar.

Sister Destiny doesn’t expect the tight grip on her wrist to loosen before Lucifer completely releases it, quickly switching her attention to the way he guides both his hands over her shoulders to discard the white collar she wears over her black gown.

His movement fluid, Lucifer sheds the collar from Sister Destiny’s shoulders, disregarding the way it gently flops onto the stone floor. He leaves the novitiate in her black gown, veil, and a silvery crucifix that dangles over her nearly exposed chest if it weren’t for the gown. Lucifer’s black-garnet gaze is intensively fixed on the short woman, his lust evolving into a ravenous hunger the more he imagines the kinds of dirty sins he wants to taint the virtuous woman with.

He’s relatively surprised by the fact she hasn’t taken the chance to flee now that both of his powerful hands have released her, but he’s also—strangely enough—relieved that the sister hasn’t made an attempt to escape.

She has to run. She knows she has to. Even as she stands free of Lucifer’s restraint, she doesn’t budge.

Why… Wh-Why am I not moving? Is it him? Is he doing this?

Sister Destiny peers up at the horned man, brought to confusion as to why she cannot move. Despite the turmoil within her, Sister Destiny is already aware of why she hasn’t taken the chance to flee—deep down, she knows why she won’t leave. The novitiate won’t deny the fact the demon before her is attractive and alluring in both physical attributes and in personality, and not only that, but he could have relinquished her power to make a choice in all, completely disregard her wants and devour her soul as he originally intended…  and yet he left her to choose, even if the options weren’t completely satisfactory.

She finally realizes that she doesn’t want to leave.

Lucifer guides his red, gloved palm up to place it on Sister Destiny’s cheek, staring down at her innocent expression fervently before his hand trails up the side of her head only to settle it on the top of her veiled scalp.

He feels hot. So, so hot. The elaborate and luxurious, high-collared, tailed coat not at all proving to help. The Avatar of Pride doesn’t seem to notice, or may it be that he simply refuses to, but his limbs are trembling. Of course, a human would never notice the quivering in Lucifer’s limbs as they would be the one quivering in fear instead, but never has he felt so consumed with the urge to take from a human that his body would shudder at the thought. Merely fantasizing all these sinful thoughts he has for the wide-eyed, porcelain woman makes the four-winged demon suppress an eager groan, his gloved fingers twitching on the top of Sister Destiny’s head.

The tightness in his sombre pants is unbearable to the Avatar of Pride, begging him to be released and for him to satisfy himself with this unintentionally tantalizing human who has a twinge of unholy curiosity spark in her wide eyes. Just thinking about ruining this gullible sister of the church spurs him on, hand trembling against Sister Destiny’s head as he urges himself to lead her down to her knees.

Not resisting against the dark-haired demon’s guidance—not that she even could—Sister Destiny begins to crouch down until the curves of her knees press on the hardness of the stone floor, sure to grow sore if she sits on her knees for too long. Her black gown rumples around her like ripples in a still mass of stygian. She can feel the warmth of Lucifer’s hand on her veiled head, chancing the opportunity to gently lift her chin so that she may look up at the ominously tall demon.

Her back faces the stained glass installed in the clerestory that distinctly reflects all the tapping noises of the repeated raindrops inside the cathedral. Sister Destiny remains kneeling in front of the four-winged demon, breathing nervously as her curious eyes stare up at Lucifer in all his glory. His wings are as open as they can be, casting large shadows behind his tall figure; his coat tails, which are split into two segments of fabric, nearly brush against the stone floor, and, overall, the Avatar of Pride stands imperiously as if he is sovereign to the kneeling woman.

Sister Destiny realizes how meticulously dressed Lucifer is, admiring the wine-red accents of his lavish coat.

“Unfasten my pants.”

“M-Mmh-?” The novitiate flinches and blinks out of her stupor.

Lucifer clenches his jaw, black-garnet eyes intensely focused on Sister Destiny’s position.

“You will find it reassuring to know that I do not like repeating myself, little lamb. Now, do as you’re told,” he advises through clenched teeth, gloved fingertips mildly pressing on Sister Destiny’s head as an implicit sign of caution to not test his patience.

The feeble novitiate stays kneeling in front of the Avatar of Pride, her tanzanite gaze staring up at him timidly until her breath hitches upon making eye contact with his daunting, black-garnet eyes. Sister Destiny is forced to realize that, at her current position, she is facing the four-winged demon’s crotch, cheeks flaring a bright red hue the moment her wide eyes glimpse down at the two, dangling, golden chains linked from a lavish ornament.

She fears tampering with Lucifer’s already developing impatience and vehemence, hesitant to lift up her petite hands and press them against the firmness of his thighs. The muscles in his thighs briefly tense up underneath her soft, porcelain hands like an impulsive reaction to her touch. Sister Destiny bites the inside of her lips for but a swift moment, reluctantly acknowledging the fact that she must do this, or pay him with the consumption of her soul.

Her hands and fingers tremble evidently, palms trailing up slowly as if she is meaning to tease the already frustrated demon who stifles a hiss through clenched teeth.

She’s consumed with anxiousness, wondering to herself if losing her self-respect would be worth over having her soul devoured. There’s an inner voice, however, that whispers ever so softly in Sister Destiny’s ears. She can hear it convincing her that she will no longer be ambiguously ridiculed for her ignorance of sex by the other novices. She can hear it assuring her that this is the right choice—that any other novitiate, from her perspective, would also make this decision.

Would they?

Before Sister Destiny can even pause to reconsider her decision, the pads of her fingers brush over a firm lump that she can feel through Lucifer’s pants—warmth dwelling beneath her delicate fingers. Her eyes blink abruptly, not expecting to be pulled out of her daze so quickly until she hardly catches the stifled sound of Lucifer’s groan.

The novitiate throws a quick, heuristic look up at the horned man before she fixes her attention back to the evident tent in his sombre pants. She cannot help the rush of heat in her pale cheeks as she gazes at the demon’s crotch, always so accustomed to averting her eyes at any promiscuous body part. Even in her adolescence, Sister Destiny would innately pull her eyes away from exposed skin, feeling a cloud of shame weighing on her back like a heavy coat. Yet, now, she has no other choice but to fulfill the demon’s demand.

With quivering fingers and a timid expression, Sister Destiny’s hands guide themselves further up to the zipper of Lucifer’s pants, remaining uneasy throughout the whole sequence. When she finally feels the brief coldness of the metallic zipper, Sister Destiny reluctantly pinches the small hook and tugs it down. Her ears are keen to the rattling noise the zip makes as she pulls it down, unable to move it any further when it catches onto the end of the link.

Sister Destiny releases a quiet and anxious breath as she unhooks the gold button with a white jewel inserted in the center that keeps Lucifer’s pants fastened. The moment she frees his button and fly, the novitiate trails her hands to the hem of his black and neatly kept boxer briefs.

She’s evidently averse to her following move, uncertainty leaking in her limbs as she nervously gazes up. Her breath quivers when the dark-haired demon tenderly caresses the top of her head, his thumb pressing softly against her scalp as if reassuring her.

“Don’t be so distressed, little lamb,” he starts off, black-garnet eyes admiring her uneasy facial expression as she stares back up at him, “I will not treat you too roughly.”

Whether it is meant to come off as reassuring or as a mild warning, Sister Destiny is uncertain, merely letting out a muted whimper as she returns her attention to the evident bulge under Lucifer’s boxer briefs. What she can see, even with Lucifer’s pants clinging to his hips, is a well-kept trail of dark hair leading down into his underwear. The clothing he wears leaves almost nothing to the imagination as to what he hides—the sheer outline of his cock adjacent to Sister Destiny’s alarmed face.

Even without fully exposing his lower regions, the novitiate knows he is unquestionably large—the contour of his cock palpable beneath the thin fabric of his black boxer briefs that snugly fit his form. She’s inwardly intimidated by the sheer size of this demon’s dick, yet having been reassured that she’d be treated—somewhat—gently, she feels her stress lessen. She recalls hearing one of the other sisters mention her lover asking for a “blowjob”—as she referred to it. According to the other novitiate, she had to use her mouth to pleasure her lover.

M-My mouth-?!

Her eyes briefly widen at the notion, hands pausing at the hem of Lucifer’s boxer briefs. Gradually, her tanzanite eyes travel up the four-winged demon’s lean yet unyielding build. She’s daunted by his expectations, kneeling before him as a virgin, not a veteran in terms of sexual intimacy.

“I-… I-I’m not sure if… i-if it’ll fit,” Sister Destiny squeaks out, porcelain cheeks smoldering with a bright red pigment.

Lucifer, much to Sister Destiny’s hopeful assumption that he’d agree and reconsider going through with this, simply chuckles deeply at her feeble remark. His gloved hand caresses the top of her veiled head, lightly tugging the dark fabric back to expose her bangs, which tenderly fall on the sides of her dainty face.

“If there is a will, there is a way, little lamb,” he murmurs to the short-haired novitiate whose eyes remain wide, staring down at her with amusement present in his very own black-garnet ones. “Carry on.”

M-Mmh…

Sister Destiny anxiously returns her attention back to her task at hand, her trembling breath sharply entering her lungs. She curls her slender fingers into the inside of Lucifer’s boxer briefs, tugging it down, feeling her cheeks rise in heat and her ears burn under her inky-black veil.

Lucifer stands with his black-garnet irises focusing on the visibly timid novitiate, his breathing growing heavy the longer he remains as patient as possibly can be for her. He’s aware of her lack of confidence for initiating such corrupt acts in the first place, but watching her gradually gather up the courage to do as he says spurs him on more than he’d like to admit.

His blood feels like it’s all been rushing down to his firm and throbbing cock, worsening his need to satisfy himself with this naive sister of the church.

In spite of his rampant desire and hunger, Lucifer remains adamant to giving in. It appears as if the demon is explicitly resisting against his carnal desires, feeling awfully tempted to press this fragile human against the stone altar and mercilessly take whatever he needs from her and leave her to be found by the bishops in the morning. This doesn’t fully satisfy Lucifer’s fantasy, however, which is what perplexes him. 

Typically, the four-winged demon would not care enough for his behavior around humans, whether it be that he was aggressive toward them, or that he was simply strict with them and demanded they satisfy his needs lest they want their souls to be mercilessly consumed.

Yet, now, as he witnesses Sister Destiny lightly tug on his underclothes with such an irresistible expression dawning on her fragile face, Lucifer cannot find it in himself to please his more demonic, sadistic self that craves violence and cruelty. He merely decides that he wishes to make this gullible novitiate willingly accept her corruption, force her to realize just how sinful she is deep down after all these years in the pursuit of becoming a full-fledged nun.

The horned man utters out a hiss as his pulsing cock is released from his underwear, the coldness of the cathedral further inciting shivers down his spine. Lucifer’s black-garnet eyes guide themselves down to Sister Destiny’s position, able to observe the surge of authentic surprise flash by in her sweet, previously innocent, tanzanite eyes as she gawks frightfully at his entire length.

Sister Destiny’s heart drops at Lucifer’s size, her breath caught up in her throat from how stunned she is. She feels quivers take over her limbs, but the odd sensation of enticed shivers crawls up her shoulders, her breath sharply entering her lungs. 

The novitiate doesn’t understand what she’s feeling. She’s kneeling down before the Avatar of Pride with her very own insides throbbing. Her breath is quiet by force, trembling with each exhale she lets out. She doesn’t know why her nethers tremble as she admires the massive dick erected before her eyes, having been taught that longing for such desires is a sin; to immediately repent after merely fathoming this corruption.

The demon’s cock is far longer than the average man’s length; girthy with pulsing veins running up from the base that meets with his appealing trail of dark pubes. At his angry red tip, slick pearls of precum ooze out, creeping over the smooth curve of his circumcised head. They give the head of Lucifer’s cock a sheeny appeal, his redness bright and burning with need.

The red shade of Sister Destiny’s cheeks rivals the cock head as it throbs desperately in front of her abashed face. Her tanzanite eyes observe the way the milky beads of pre gradually slide down the flush head, keeping her curiosity of what it may taste like to herself until Lucifer clears his throat insistently.

“M-Mmh?” she finds herself humming out, fixing her gaze up at the dark-haired demon.

“Don’t keep me in anticipation, little lamb,” Lucifer utters out, his voice hoarse, but still equally as intimidating to the short-haired novitiate.

“You-… You want me to-?”

“Please me. Yes,” he interrupts, darkened eyes seemingly glaring down at her, like a ruthless ruler to his meek servant. “Do not test my leniency unless you really want me to devour your precious soul.”

With that being said, Lucifer’s grip on Sister Destiny’s veiled head tightens, his fingers threatening to tug on her exposed bangs and, potentially, pull on her scalp.

“Eek-!”

Sister Destiny’s eyes squeeze shut, lower lip quivering from the raw fear flowing through her fragile, little body. She can hear the urgency in Lucifer’s tone, frightful of what may happen if she tries to resist his demands.

Her eyebrows crease together in hesitation, porcelain eyelids fluttering open only to discover her attention instantly flying to the demon’s erect cock.

Without dragging it out, Sister Destiny leads her petite hands to Lucifer’s pulsing shaft, the base of her palm instantly pressing gently against one of the veins running alongside the underside of his member. Her ears catch on to Lucifer as he releases a stifled hiss, the smallest of groans rumbling in the base of his vocal chords.

Distinctly hesitating for a fleeting moment, Sister Destiny begins to drag her tender grasp up Lucifer’s pulsating dick. Small drops of precum smear between her delicate fingers as they roam up and down the member in a fixed rhythm, making it easier for the novitiate to smoothly pump her hands over the hot girth.

Throughout the repeated sequence, Sister Destiny’s face remains a bright red pigment, her cheeks flaring with shame. Hidden fascination glints in her wide, tanzanite eyes, however, contradicting her attitude in the beginning of this problematic endeavor.

Her hands are soft and petite, appearing twice as small while they wrap around Lucifer’s erect cock. She runs the pads of her thumbs on the underside of his shaft, massaging upwards until she reaches the bottom of his head, feeling the member twitch in her gentle clasp before the grip of her head tightens.

The horned demon releases another hiss, baring his teeth as he momentarily squeezes his eyes shut at the pleasurable sensation overwhelming his needy dick. When the novitiate’s hands would reach the bottom of his head—barely brushing against the sensitivity—his shoulders would stiffen and his breath immediately gets stuck in his throat.

He initially thought the novitiate would prove to be a disappointment to his expectations, yet the way she delicately strokes him fills him with a new surge of relief and satisfaction.

Lucifer’s hips slightly buck, craving more firmness in Sister Destiny’s grip, which seems to catch her off guard. He sharply inhales, eyebrows wrinkled in concentration as he fixes his grip on the top of her veiled head.

Sister Destiny continues to draw her palms across the heated flesh of Lucifer’s firm cock, her hands losing their clasp on him when his hips buck forward unexpectedly. Her eyebrows rise quickly in alarm as her hands unintentionally release his slick shaft, worried that the demon would reprimand her.

She is proven wrong when, suddenly, the tip of Lucifer’s dick nudges against her thin, supple lips—his precum smearing over her softness. Her initial reaction is to flinch back from the abruptness, but the tight grasp on her veil restrains her from moving at all, keeping her lips snug against his heated and pulsing tip.

Lucifer keeps his hold on Sister Destiny’s head firm, black-garnet eyes meeting with her alarmed ones as they gawk up at him—her eyes asking for an explanation.

He simply tilts his chin high while keeping his stern gaze glued to the kneeling novitiate’s worried eyes.

“Open,” Lucifer demands, his tone cruel.

The coldness in his voice makes Sister Destiny want to whimper, frightful of him and his capability.

She can feel his cock head pulse against her lips, the impalpable scent of his pre wafting in her nose. Too intimidated by Lucifer’s harsh voice, Sister Destiny slowly parts her soft lips over the throbbing tip that keeps itself pressed intimately against her, granting him access to her wet mouth where scarce, translucent strings of saliva connect her upper teeth to her lower ones.

Her eyes instinctively squint, feeling the heated tip intrude her wet cavity. The foreign intrusion causes Sister Destiny to briefly flick the tip of her tongue against the cock head, catching the taste of his leaking precum. The novitiate is surprised to know that the taste lingering on her tongue is mildly sweet, the blandness nearly overpowering the sweet tang.

“Mm…”

Lucifer’s brows furrow as he enters Sister Destiny’s mouth little by little, sensing her tongue flick against his sensitive head—likely from the sudden invasion startling her. Regardless, he bites back a deep groan that threatens to leave the depths of his vocal chords, refusing to show any signs of being satisfied by the novitiate so early on.

His black-garnet eyes—glazed with ravenous desire—fall down to the short-haired woman sitting on her knees, able to feel her small hands tremble against his clothed thighs to keep herself in place. Lucifer sees Sister Destiny’s eyes start to water, her jaw struggling to loosen around his enormous cock. He easily spots the wet beads shimmering in the lines of her lids, watching as they slip down her pliant, fair-skinned cheeks.

Sister Destiny’s timid body trembles, jaw already going sore as the demon inserts his dick in her gaping mouth. Her eyes squint in slight pain, feeling trails of tears slide down her cheeks—the wet lines cooling at the occasional draft within the cathedral. In spite of her current struggle, Sister Destiny is surprised to realize Lucifer’s hips have slowed, keeping himself still in her mouth.

She realizes she must’ve made it obvious that she was having a difficult time taking in his cock, unaware of the fact she hasn’t even reached halfway—not that Lucifer thinks she could without reaching the back of her throat. Even then, it wouldn’t fit the entirety of his cock.

Impulsively, Sister Destiny swallows around Lucifer’s cock, meek body quivering at her current conflict. She immediately takes note of how the towering demon lightly groans with his lips sealed, eyes flying up to gaze at his face.

Sister Destiny is greeted with the sight of Lucifer whose eyebrows are wrinkled at the bridge of his nose and his eyes now half lidded as he stares down at her.

“Suck,” he commands her, hand firmly pressing against her veiled head.

Her eyes promptly widen before she drags her attention back to his pelvis with her lips closing around the erection lodged in her mouth. With a reluctant shift, Sister Destiny starts to suckle on Lucifer’s cock, cheeks burning with humiliation at her actions.

As she sucks on the cock, Sister Destiny slowly fixes her gaze back up at Lucifer, testing the waters by pulling her head back, dragging her tight lips around him. She hears him shudder, her own cunt quivering at the stifled groan he releases, her progressive head bopping increasing with hopes of satisfying the Avatar of Pride. It is positively obvious that the novitiate can’t take the entirety of the winged man’s cock in her mouth, and she fixes this dilemma by shyly removing her hands off of his thighs to gently clasp whatever she cannot reach; stroking him with a leisurely pace while sucking the upper half.

Saliva begins to dribble out from the corners of Sister Destiny’s mouth, slipping down over the curvature of her chin until reaching the nadir and finally dripping onto her inky-black gown. The spare sweetness of Lucifer’s precum taints the inside of her moist cavern, coating her taste buds and alluring her despite her virtuous conscience rebuking her for her sinful actions.

I shouldn’t be doing this! This is shameful! Why am I letting this- this demon defile me like this?! I have to repent! I can’t let him dishonor my oath to the Lord!

And, yet, in spite of all her internal protests, Sister Destiny finds herself lowering her lids halfway, her cheeks and ears burning with a discovered eagerness to pleasure Avatar of Pride, Lucifer. Her tanzanite eyes become glossy as she continues to suck up and down on Lucifer’s cock, hands stroking the rest of his shaft until she reaches his pelvis and drags them back up to her soft lips.

“Mm…” she catches herself tenderly moaning around Lucifer’s dick, voice muffled and yet vibrating in her mouth, which makes the four-winged demon groan audibly as he guides her head along him.

Lucifer grits his fang-like teeth together, eyes squinting lightly at the pleasure he feels coursing through his resilient body. He lets out a few groans, gripping the novitiate’s head like a vice, witnessing the way her eyes glimmer in the dull lights of the glowing candles surrounding them.

Feeling Sister Destiny’s lips around his stiff cock makes Lucifer choke for but a moment, eyelids fluttering with a catch. His fingers subconsciously curl on Sister Destiny’s head, her black veil wrinkling under his firm grasp until the demon figures it’s too much of a hindrance.

Without warning, the prideful demon clasps the veil from Sister Destiny’s head and pulls it off with an urgency that can only be described as neediness. He impatiently tosses the veil aside, no longer caring for the pathetic piece of fabric, threading his gloved fingers into her soft, short, white-to-azure hair. Lucifer gets a better grip on Destiny’s head and focuses more of his energy on picking up her speed.

“M-Mmh-!” 

Destiny’s eyes squint harsher than before, lips sliding over his hot member with ease because of her drool increasing with each thrust forward and backward. Her cheeks appear larger than before, still as red as the bright flames burning endlessly in the waxen tunnels sitting on the black, iron candelabras. She can instantly tell her pace has been picked up, especially since her veil’s been abruptly pulled off by the horned man towering over her who curls his fingers through her short locks of hair.

She promptly follows Lucifer’s urging motions, feeling her scalp sting as he tugs on her hair. Destiny whimpers through her nose, her breathing labored the longer she remains sucking on the firm dick sliding easily into her mouth.

In spite of her growing discomfort, the taste of Lucifer intoxicates her little by little, intriguing her to learn more about the ways of sex if it means she won’t be belittled for her lack of knowledge anymore.

“Ah-” the dark-haired demon feels his hips stutter for a brief moment, delving his cock a little deeper into Destiny’s innocent, little mouth.

His eyes are focused on her, seeing the shine of her drool smear all on his dick firing him up.

“What a good little lamb… H-Hah-… sucking my cock so nicely,” Lucifer grunts out, facial expression hardening with great focus.

The praise instantly shoots arousal through Destiny’s petite body, feeling herself grow wetter than before. She continues sucking on the cock that practically pumps itself into her soaking, tightening mouth, her teary eyes fluttering repeatedly, struggling to get a good focus on Lucifer’s tall physique.

T-Tastes-… Tastes s-so, so good…

Destiny’s eyes blink until they remain half lidded, moans resonating from her vocal chords as she increases her own speed to match up with Lucifer’s selfish thrusts. 

Had it been the same novitiate who entered the cathedral, she would feel an unbearable amount of shame dribbling out of her conscience, forced to become aware of the sin that’s always been in her virtuous soul. Now, however, the novitiate’s mind is fogged with desire—a severe appetite for lust igniting within—while her lips drag over the stiff rod pumping itself into her suckling mouth.

Albeit muffled at best, Destiny’s moans reverberate within the cathedral hall; glowing, vermilion flames burning away at the heated wax.

“Mmh-!” Lucifer’s pale face hardens as his lower torso flexes abruptly, feeling his impending climax. He can hardly contain himself when the not-so-innocent novitiate before him keeps stroking his dick with her lips wrapping around him, sucking like a greedy leech on his sensitive areas.

He’s close. Very close.

The demon’s wings flutter with vigor behind his back, stretching out only for his hidden muscles to stiffen beneath the dark plumage. They rustle continuously, nearly able to stifle Destiny’s soft and mumbled moans.

His shoulders start to cave in, his pace growing more and more impatient, starving for his imminent release. The thought of cumming in Destiny’s mouth flashes by in Lucifer’s head, further inciting his fantasies and earning him a guttural growl under his breath, hand tightening around Destiny’s head.

Destiny can sense that the horned man’s pace has heavily increased, nearly overwhelming her as her jaw aches terribly with each stroke her mouth achieves. She finds herself struggling to breathe, salty tears uncontrollably sliding down her fair cheeks. In the midst of the merely one-sided passion, Destiny lets out a distressed whine, mouth full of Lucifer’s cock.

“M-Mmph-!”

He hisses sharply, pace not letting up. “Yes… h-hah-… y-yes-… agh-”

Destiny cannot fight back against his forceful movement, eyes merely shutting themselves as her hands struggle to continue pumping his shaft with all the intense filling of her mouth. Her ears catch on the sounds of Lucifer’s desperate pants, hearing the slightest chokes in his voice as he thrusts himself into her slobbery cavern.

Lucifer’s balls clench tightly, the brief indication of his impending orgasm that has him groaning more audibly than last time. His eyes shut themselves tightly, focusing, now, on the feeling of Destiny’s delicious mouth wrapped so nicely around his dick, driving his hips deeply in her direction.

His wings abruptly shudder, the rest of the demonic being’s body flinching harshly. Lucifer’s eyebrows wrinkle suddenly as he feels himself stiffen up and firmly press Destiny’s head closer to his base.

“Hck-!” Lucifer chokes out, keeping most of his firm rod burrowed in the human’s mouth. His sharp teeth tightly grind against each other, releasing his cum in the unsuspecting novitiate’s mouth with a heavy exhale following after.

“M-Mm-?!”

Destiny’s head is harshly pushed forward, forcing more of Lucifer’s cock into her mouth when her jaw already endeavors an abundance of sores and aches she didn’t know she could experience. Her tanzanite eyes widen; loads of a warm, thick substance gushing out from Lucifer’s dick and into her mouth, coating her tongue and overwhelming her taste buds.

It tastes mildly salty, at best, but Destiny doesn’t find the tang unbearable. What really throws her off is the texture: gooey, heavy, and mildly hot. Her cheeks bloat from the fullness, hardly able to contain all of the demon’s load without potentially letting some of it dribble out of the corners of her lips

Lucifer’s cum idles in Destiny’s mouth, not yet swallowed nor spat out, but causing her a hassle to keep it all contained.

Destiny’s lips slightly open themselves wider, feeling the ridges and pulsing veins of Lucifer’s dick as it pulls out. Her breath quivers as she exhales through her nose, not wanting to risk having drops of semen slip out.

“Hm?” Lucifer fixes his black-garnet eyes down to Destiny’s swollen cheeks, secretly admiring the pretty red tint dusted across her paleness. He pants ever so lightly, keeping his convulsion discreet.

Her eyebrows are creased at the bridge of her nose, displaying her great worry for spilling the cum in her mouth without a trace of immediate humiliation—merely revealed to be keeping her hands lifted at the height of her shoulders and slightly waving them out of distress. 

He lowers his red, leather gloved hand, carefully cupping her stuffed cheek. Lucifer tests the fullness of Destiny’s mouth by tenderly pressing the flat of his gloved thumb against her soft cheek, earning a startling whine from the white-to-azure-haired woman. He can see the teary glisten in her eyes, noticing a few driblets of his milky-white cum leaking out of her puckered lips.

Lucifer can hardly keep himself together at the sinful sight displayed so openly before him. He lets out a strained gasp, arousal, once again, surging through his powerful body and breathing life into his hanging cock that leaks of extra semen.

“My… and I didn’t even tell you to keep it in,” he comments, nearly mocking her in a way.

He can see a variety of emotions burn in Destiny’s wide eyes, able to decipher practically each individual thought that flies through her gorgeous mind. It’s as if she’s been pulled out of her lustful indulgence, the realization of her actions hitting her far harder than she likes. Lucifer, however, feels the corners of his lips twitch up into a dark grin.

“What a fruitful little lamb you are. Show me,” Lucifer speaks out, tilting her chin higher to face him.

Destiny winces as her chin is pulled up, peering up at Lucifer’s piercing eyes with her reddened cheeks still stuffed of his load. She hears him demand her to open her bloated mouth, nearly inclined to refuse because of the wavering risk that she may accidentally drop some of it on herself. Perhaps that’s what he’s looking forward to.

Uncertainly, Destiny parts her lips, exposing the inside of her mouth for Lucifer to admire. Her ears heat up with embarrassment, gawking up at the dark-haired demon who hums studiously, feeling herself tremble on her knees while the demon keeps his hand gripping her chin firmly.

Lucifer can clearly see his cum filling Destiny’s gaping mouth, tempted to order her to stick her tongue out so that he may witness his load fall and stain her black clothing. He refrains from doing so and, instead, watches a few milky droplets trickle from the borders of her lips, gradually slipping down until they reach his red, gloved hand.

He’s deathly silent as he wipes the cum on Destiny’s chin off with his hand, forcing his thumb into her mouth to feel the thick consistency inside.

“Mm-!” Destiny hums out of alarm, eyes growing large at the gloved finger intruding her cum-stuffed mouth.

“Swallow,” Lucifer orders, not daring to tear his gaze away from her startled expression. In fact, he keeps his attention on her lips, watching them compulsively wrap around his thumb. He swishes his thumb inside Destiny’s glutted mouth, partially able to feel the viscous semen swirling around his digit as well as her probing tongue which pokes at the intruder.

With a bit of a struggle, Destiny does her best to swallow the horned man’s load, trying to keep most of it in her mouth. The thick consistency slides down her throat, but with Lucifer’s thumb invading past her lips and toying with the inside of her mouth, she finds it slightly more difficult to swallow all of his cum that eventually leaks out in small drops. With the faint taste of Lucifer’s semen lasting on Destiny’s tongue, she quietly whimpers and stares up at the four-winged demon.

“Mm… well done, little lamb,” he approves, humming deeply with lust further building in his chest. He eyes the miniscule droplets of his viscid, milky-white cum spilling out of the corners of Destiny’s tender lips, withdrawing his gloved thumb from her mouth to swipe them away.

Destiny’s eyes briefly squint at Lucifer’s rather intimate gesture of wiping her face somewhat cleaner than before, reopening them when he recoils his red, leather gloved hand away.

She hesitates to speak for a moment, lips parting, yet, not a word slips out.

After a few seconds of regaining her nerves, Destiny separates her lips again.

“I-I did what you asked. Will-… Will you let me go now?” she asks the demon, worried eyes staring up at him expectantly. 

She—ironically—prays that she’s managed to satisfy the horned man’s needs well enough to have earned her right to leave without any further damage. Destiny is brought to dread, however, when she hears Lucifer chuckle deeply at her words as if they were part of a running gag. Her tanzanite eyes widen as she discovers herself to be gawking up at the malicious sneer on Lucifer’s pale face.

“Oh, no, no, no, little lamb,” he purrs out in a taunting voice, forcibly clasping the novitiate’s petite wrists and effortlessly pulling her up from her aching knees. He hears the feeble squeak of fright slip past Destiny’s soft lips as she falls upon his firm body, calmly placing the both of his gloved palms on her pliant cheeks to direct her utmost attention on him. “You didn’t think we’d leave it at that, did you?” Lucifer smirks down at her wide-eyed expression.

“Wh-What?”

“I did promise I’d take your virginity, didn’t I?”

Destiny whimpers quietly as Lucifer nears her face, forced to stare up into his black-garnet eyes that are brimming with desire. She tries to pull herself back from Lucifer’s, somewhat, firm grip, startled to find out that, while he does release her face, he automatically grasps her wrists.

He begins to walk close to her, which causes the white-to-azure-haired woman to step back, gown waving at her abrupt movement. With each step he takes forward, Destiny takes one backward, unknowingly letting him guide her to the altar where a Holy Bible sits directly in the middle along with a small plate of bread and a little glass of wine—likely to be grape juice that’s gone bad, instead.

“Eep-!” Destiny squeaks out, not predicting Lucifer to grab both of her wrists with one hand while his arm swipes the white book with a golden cross etched in the middle along with the bread and wine off of the altar, listening to all of the Holy objects clatter on the floor and echoing loudly in the cathedral. “Wh-What are you-”

She can hardly get a word in when the four-winged demon turns her around without warning, startling her when he presses his chest against her back and pins her to the altar with his hands pressing over the back of hers.

Lucifer can feel Destiny’s visibly smaller body tremble beneath his, his breath hovering over the shell of her ear. He leans closer to her, chest pressing on her quivering back before he unites her wrists under one, red, gloved hand. With his free hand, he slithers up Destiny’s arm, wrinkling the dark fabric before he follows the curve on her bicep, eventually leading his hand to her chest.

The Avatar of Pride hears both the metallic jingle of her crucifix and her mild whimpers as he glides his palm over one of her clothed breasts. He’s able to feel her taut nipple through the inky-black fabric, teasing her body by gently circling the nub before he pinches it mildly. He grins to himself upon inciting a mewl from the novitiate below him, pleased to know just how easy it is to manipulate her bliss and keep her in his domineering control.

H-He’s touching me-! I-I can’t do anything-!

Destiny tenderly whines under Lucifer’s weight, wrists squirming in his tight clasp which remains unyielding no matter how much she struggles. She can feel his hand roaming over her trembling chest, feeling humiliated that he can easily manipulate her body like it’s child’s play. With a light pinch to her nipple, she mewls and nearly bucks into his touch; with a gentle rub around her bud, she’s whimpering softly and writhing in his hold, uncertain of whether she wants more, or if she wants him to stop.

“What a sensitive little thing you are… and we’ve barely gotten to the fun part,” Lucifer hums, pressing his lips up to the sliver of space behind Destiny’s ear.

“M-Mh-”

Destiny hesitantly lifts her head after previously trying to hide her shame by concealing her face into her extended arms, cheeks a delicious red hue while her eyes appear glossy.

“It’s almost as if you don’t even know what your body wants. I can help you with that,” murmurs Lucifer whose hand slowly slides down Destiny’s waist, savoring the feel of her delicate body even with his glove slipped on.

“Wh-What are you-”

“Shh- a good little lamb would know to speak only when spoken to. Don’t fret, I can take care of your needs… that sinful fire within you,” Lucifer mutters, his lips caressing the nape of Destiny’s neck.

Destiny breathes in sharply when she senses her flowy gown being tugged up, exposing her leg at a noticeable pace. Her vulnerable legs are littered with shivers, the smallest shudder leaving her lips like an obedient prayer. The chilly atmosphere of the cathedral rises higher and higher on the exposed flesh of Destiny’s legs, forcing her to acknowledge, now, that her dress has been pulled up to her hips—clothed crotch exposed between the altar and Lucifer.

The demon is hasty to slip his gloved palm beneath the dress, allowing the extra fabric to drape over his wrist like a curtain, casting the faintest of shadows on the stone floor. With her clothed nethers exposed to the cathedral ambience, Lucifer swears he could smell her arousal from the apse of the interior, suppressing a hungry groan himself by humming deeply into the back of Destiny’s head.

He hovers his gloved hand near Destiny’s cunt, able to feel her warmth even through her panties and his own glove. Craving more of the sensation, Lucifer tenderly cups her leaking mound, an intrigued hum rumbling in his throat.

“It seems our innocent little nun isn’t as innocent as she appears,” the horned man teases, his nimble fingers ever so lightly circling on the covered opening of Destiny’s genitals.

“N-No-!” Destiny whimpers out, squeezing her eyes tightly as her hips jerk away from Lucifer’s taunting fingers. “I-… I’m not-”

“Mm-?” 

Lucifer winces for a brief moment, not seemingly expecting the novitiate to, without warning, snap her crotch away. He is, however, further engrossed in Destiny’s resolve, more eager to break her will down and taint her in the most delightful and corrupt ways he knows she’ll love. And when he’s finished having his fun, he’ll build her back up again, giving her that hope of being a virtuous, little nun again, only to break her down once more. The satisfaction of manipulating her faith keeps Lucifer deeply fascinated, enthusiastic to see what else he could do to this naive sister, so that she may come to terms with the sin infested inside of her.

He gently presses his own hips against Destiny’s, returning his palm back to her heated mound which earns him a reluctant whine, enticing him to do more.

“I told you I wouldn’t treat you roughly, little lamb. Do you really doubt my words?” he queries, lips kissing the shell of her reddened ear. “Entrust yourself to me, and I can guarantee you pleasure at its highest ascent. I will be there alongside you, my little lamb.”

These strangely sentimental words ring within Destiny’s mind, enrapturing her steadfast will of faith to ease itself and let go of the coldness that sears her curiosity of the world of sensation. She hears his rather soothing voice speak intimately in her ear, capturing her breath in a nearly delighted clasp.

Her legs quiver at the sensation of Lucifer’s hand returning to her aroused nethers, a whimper breaking through her vocal chords as his fingers softly tease her soaking lips through her underwear. Uncontrollably, the white-to-azure-haired novitiate jerks her hips into Lucifer’s hand, a quiet and needy whine vibrating in her throat.

“P-… Please-…” weakly cries Destiny, who lowers her head with a red hue burning across her cheeks.

Lucifer’s tantalizing motions halt on Destiny’s sensitive mound, keeping his hand as still as stone over her drenched panties.

“Hmm? Go on, little lamb, use your words,” croons out the Avatar of Pride, an ambitious smirk crossing his lips.

Destiny Calyx whines softly beneath Avatar of Pride’s—Lucifer’s—weight, her petite hips twitching in his palm’s direction. She’s slowly unraveling under his touch, coming to terms with her desire to feel lust in its raw, carnal form.

He promised he’d take care of her. He said he’d treat her nicely. He guaranteed her a sensation of pure delight that would relieve her of this frigidness the life of a novitiate has brought her.

She wants to feel what he’s been offering—lustful sin.

“P-Please… touch me…” she mewls out in a delicate and fragile voice, petite body quivering with need.

Lucifer’s smirk widens from the corners of his lips, a dark glint of arousal evident in his black-garnet eyes.

“Good little lamb…” he utters out, gradually lifting the hand he does not use to pin Destiny’s wrists down to his mouth.

The demon opens his lips, sharp teeth biting down on the paltry edge of the red, leather fabric, only for him to pull his hand out from his accessory. He nonchalantly spits out the red, leather glove, hearing the muffled flop against the stone floor before repeating the process to his other hand while seizing Destiny’s small wrists with his now-bare palm.

Destiny feels Lucifer return to his original position, now trailing his bare and warm hand up on the front of her leg, ultimately pulling her swishing garment along with it. She burrows her face between her outstretched arms, eyelids squeezing shut as her legs tremble from the cold once again.

Her breath comes out shaky, biting the inside of her lip at the discernment of Lucifer’s hand slipping in the band of her panties. Destiny knows her legs tremble, uncertain of whether it’s because of the anticipation, or the trifling fear of experiencing discomfort. Her panties slowly begin to slip off from her hips, a tiny mewl vibrating in her small throat as a sheer string of her arousal stretches between the cloth and her clenching cunt. The instant the viscous and shiny thread snaps her thighs instinctively press against each other until the soaked fabric slides down to her ankles.

She feels unbelievably exposed, reluctantly whimpering at the crisp draft that travels within the ominous cathedral, effectively causing her sopping cunt to squeeze around nothing.

“E-Eep-!”

Destiny’s eyes bat open in the darkness of her arms when she feels a warm hand press against her bare vulva, unable to predict the demon’s next moves. She struggles deeply to not squirm in Lucifer’s hold as he slips a heated digit in between her aroused folds, languidly moving around her fluttering hole and teasing the aching clit hidden beneath its hood.

“A-Ah-! Mm-…”

She shuts her eyes again, unknowingly circling her hips into the fingers that stimulate her sensitive folds. Her breath falls short the moment Lucifer expertly tugs her clitoral hood open, middle digit delicately rubbing against the tender pleasure point hidden inside, causing the novitiate to moan desirably.

Lucifer’s eyes are hooded as he dexterously plays with Destiny’s quivering cunt, able to feel the way she trembles beneath him and hear the nearly-muted sounds of her clenching around nothingness, her arousal dripping on the tips of his fingers. He continues his mild torment on the novitiate’s clit, intently listening to the way she whimpers with a crack in her needy voice, worsening his allure for her.

“You mewl so charmingly for me, my little lamb. Perhaps, we’ll need to work together to compensate for the way you nicely sucked my cock earlier,” he coos.

Releasing one of her wrists, Lucifer guides her trembling hand back to her own cunt, making sure to shield the back of her palm with his. Their fingers slightly interlace, both hovering over Destiny’s soaking pussy.

“There you are…” Lucifer gingerly hums, manipulating both his and Destiny’s fingers to circle her fluttering hole.

“M-Mm-…” Destiny faintly moans out, the side of her face pressing against the frigid surface of the altar as she feels her slick arousal drip over her and Lucifer’s fingers.

The horned man pecks the crook of Destiny’s neck while leading his fingers and Destiny’s to her cunt, teasing her circle before he slowly begins to push in Destiny’s middle and ring finger in—his own following after.

“M-Mmh-! Ah-! L-Lu-” Destiny stifles out, eyebrows wrinkling at the bridge of her slim nose, a tear already slipping down her temple pressed firmly against the altar.

He’s slow and steady throughout the entire process, allowing her to grow accustomed to the size of not only his fingers, but hers included as well. Lucifer’s ears are keen to the wet sounds of their united fingers easily sliding in and out, the softest groan of satisfaction rumbling in the gulfs of his throat.

Both the demon and the indecent novitiate can feel the way her hot and squishy walls clench desirably around their coupled fingers, both releasing a soft sound of pleasure at the addicting sensation.

Destiny’s cheeks are hot red, her eyebrows furrowing in tight wrinkles as she gingerly whimpers under the distinct weight of Lucifer. She gasps softly, unable to predict Lucifer curling his fingers over hers as they stroke her insides—running all four fingers along her g-spot so skillfully it brings her to tears almost immediately.

“A-Ah-! Mmm… Lu-Lucifer… e-eh-!”

Her body flinches, an uncontrollable gasp slipping through her lips the moment Lucifer picks up their speed, his adept fingers pressing more firmly on her g-spot—stimulating her like an instrument. She moans desperately, her entirety quivering from the insatiable pleasure and arousal coursing through her pious body.

Lucifer remains, somewhat, quiet, centralizing himself on the sensation of his drenched fingers—united with Destiny’s—sinking deeply into her tightness only to drag them out slowly, allowing her to feel every ridge on their digits. He burrows the lower half of his pale face into Destiny’s shoulder, resting the span of his chest on her trembling back while keeping her snugly pressed against him.

He can feel every flutter, every throb, every tight squeeze around his fingers as well as the shakiness in Destiny’s as they thrust into her cunt in alignment. Each little moan and gentle shudder that slips through Destiny’s soft lips only spurring him on, unknowingly groaning faintly on the pliant flesh of her shoulder.

“So good for me, little one. So, so good for me…” mumbles gently the four-winged demon.

The murmurs of praise and the continuous pecks against her angelic skin bring Destiny weak to her knees, moans growing in volume, which perceptibly echo within the spacious cathedral; not a soul in sight to witness this act of carnal sin being committed upon the Holy altar.

Her legs tremble, hips snapping into Lucifer’s and her own palms, desperate for the friction she didn’t even know she’s been yearning for. Clenching around the stimulant thrusting up inside of her, Destiny whines lightly, thighs pressing together. The longer Lucifer’s and her digits fill her snug cunt, the hotter she begins to feel; a pleasurable cramp building in the depths of her nethers.

Lucifer is keen to the increase of moans and whimpers Destiny openly leaks out of her pretty lips, his thumb pressing over her vulnerable clit to play with her sensitivity. He is satiated by Destiny’s higher-pitched whines, pressing deep into her leaking cunt with resolution. Eagerly, he listens to the saturated sounds of Destiny’s fluttering pussy, reveling in the way she gasps softly and squeezes her walls around their fingers moving in unison.

“M-Mmh-! Haah- I-… I-I’m hot-! N-Ngh-!” Destiny mewls out, squirming deliciously in Lucifer’s hold.

Her breathing grows heavy, mouth gaping wide at the irresistible sensation of their partnered fingers thrusting up into her soppy folds, arousal slipping down the lengths of their digits and smearing all over their palms and her inner thighs.

“You feel it? The calidity churning inside of you?” Lucifer hums, perpetually guiding Destiny’s and his fingers deep into her trembling and pulsing cunt.

“M-Mhm!” Destiny almost frantically nods. “P-Please-!” she whines out, tears slipping over the faint curve of her nose before plopping down on the altar silently.

“Mm,” aptly hums Lucifer, black-garnet eyes glazed by the ravenous desire for this alluring novitiate.

The arm that keeps Destiny’s remaining hand pinned to the altar curls in towards Destiny, wrapping around her torso to draw her closer to his menacing body. His fluid movements do not cease in Destiny’s pussy, running his fingers over her g-spot to which he’s gifted with a louder moan and sob—listening to the way her meek voice reverberates within the interior of the cathedral along with the sounds of their feet shuffling and heavy breathing.

In the split second that Destiny’s cunt tightly squeezes around their fingers and her breath hitching in her throat, Lucifer rubs a harsher loop on her sensitive clit.

“Cum,” he orders her, tone dark and heavy with lust.

Without needing to be told twice, Destiny’s hips give one last twitch to further stimulate herself. She stills beneath him for a split second until she’s discovered to be quivering tremendously, mouth gaping wide open, but not letting out a sound. Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut, thighs pressing against one another—trapping her and Lucifer’s hand on her sopping nethers.

The novitiate’s velvety walls clasp around the four digits thrusted inside, a warm wetness sliding down the curves of their fingers, gradually pooling in their palms.

Destiny presses the side of her face into the altar, sobbing at the overwhelming pleasure she’s overcome with. Finally, her voice breaks out in repeated breaths and broken moans, reverberating against the statuesque walls of the cathedral.

“Ah-! Hahh- aah- ah-!” she breathes out, cunt squeezing her and Lucifer’s digits like a vice.

Tears slip over the brink of her nose, dripping onto the stone altar beneath her head, and gradually begin to pool on the underside of her temple. She pants repeatedly, attempting to catch her breath that was so abruptly stolen from her lungs throughout her orgasm.

The dark-haired demon can feel her trembling beneath his weight, his arm eventually slipping away from her torso and tenderly guiding his hand to her resting head where he brushes her ruffled strands of white-to-azure hair away from her face in a delicate manner. His black garnet gaze remains glued to the side of her exposed face, admiring the shine her tears give off in the dim cathedral hall.

Lucifer unexpectedly leans down, careful as to not shift his hand still pressed against Destiny’s quivering cunt. With his breath delicately ghosting the exposed side of Destiny’s hot face, Lucifer’s eyelids slowly shut as he tenderly presses a kiss to her temple. Keeping his delight in Destiny’s soft and quiet whimpers subtle, Lucifer hums against her hot skin, pulling his lips away for but a moment.

“Mm… you did so well for me, my love.” He presses yet another peck on the side of her forehead. “So well for me…”

Lucifer peppers numerous kisses over Destiny’s soft and dainty skin, others lingering more than a few.

“I’ve got you now, my love… do not worry…” Lucifer gently embraces her from behind using one arm, burrowing his face close to Destiny’s jaw. “You’re safe,” he murmurs in a loving whisper, pressing more delicate kisses on her sensitive flesh.

“M-Mm…” Destiny whimpers softly, eyebrows pinching together in an anxious wrinkle before she slowly begins to relax within Lucifer’s protective hold.

Her rapid heart rate gradually begins to slow, feeling safe when embraced by her lover’s arms. She exhales with a hint of relief and satisfaction, melting by the fond affection she’s being given.

“Are you alright, my love? I was not too rough on you, was I?” She hears him ask.

Destiny does not respond right away, simply trying to recollect her scattered thoughts after experiencing such a powerful climax. She does, however, release a satisfied yet tired sigh, barely able to shake her head to answer Lucifer.

“N-… No…” she quietly mumbles, slowly pulling her lids open—doing her hardest to clearly see through the layer of tears.

Lucifer softly releases his own sigh of relief, quick to press another lingering kiss on her temple.

“I’m relieved to hear,” he gently chuckles.

Lucifer feels Destiny briefly stiffen under him, now growing aware of the united fingers that still remain delved deep in her sensitive cunt. He trails a few more soft kisses from her temple to her ear.

“I’m going to pull our fingers out. Are you ready, my love?” he asks her, refusing to move unless she answers him.

“M-Mmhm…”

The white-haired woman nods to him as best as she can even while keeping her head pressed against the stone altar, eyes fluttering shut by reflex.

She quietly moans and whimpers as her digits, along with his, begin to slip out from her drenching hole, feeling herself instinctively tighten around nothing. Destiny’s body is left in nothing but heavy quivers, dealing with the aftershocks of her orgasm even now.

“Mm… you did wonderfully, my love.” Lucifer murmurs out, pressing another loving kiss onto her flushed cheek; the tang of her tears faint on his tongue. Keeping his lips gently settled on her soft skin, Lucifer softly mumbles out: “I love you…”

Destiny, even in the midst of handling her ruined self, does her best to smile at the earnest words. She cannot do a single thing to ignore her rapid heart beats, but it feels different this time. It feels… warm.

“I-… I love you, too… L-Lucifer,” Destiny replies, finally peeling her eyes open so that she can gaze back up to exchange a soft look with the dark-haired demon.

Lucifer’s brows briefly furrow, mainly out of his own sense of being flustered, but he pushes his humiliation away by standing tall, releasing Destiny’s hand.

“I suppose we should clean up before we head home, hm?”

Destiny softly laughs, feeling her gown fall back to the floor—her legs no longer feeling frigid from the occasional draft in the cathedral. She nods weakly.

“Mm,” hums she in agreement. “Let’s go home…”

𝐅𝐈𝐍. (3/3)

[slutlovingdude]

intro post

heyy i’m sai. i like punk, ska, grunge, japanese poetry, writing, and a good psych thriller. this is where i come to hornypost. i’m a bisexual trans guy, i use he/they and i’m happy to have you here. kinks and rules below the cut❤️

first and foremost, i am a switch but unless specified, assume i’m feeling dommy.

my kinks are pretty varied and i’m open to lots of things but here are my main ones

bondage

pet play

knife play

degradation

exhibition (in theory or fantasy)

dacryphilia

somnophilia

impact play

cnc

light gender play (ex: crossdressing, use of makeup, etc)

religion (worship me like your god and i’ll make you my angel)

corruption

i like being called sir, master or god.

my hard no’s:

pregnancy

fattening, feedism or anything in that category

race play

incest

scat

femdom

one of my biggest rules is that i won’t accept being treated like a girl or woman. as stated above, i’m a trans guy and i find it really uncomfortable when people call me mommy, mistress, ma’am or miss.

please keep in mind that i am NOT t4t, nor am i a place that is exclusively for women or men. while i find myself more attracted to men, i’m also open to women and anyone who doesn’t fit into either term, this account is for any gender or sexuality! basically, don’t interact with me if you’re a blog that has rules about what gender or sexuality can interact with you <3