#priest smut

[greengoblinswifey]

You’re My Religion- Father Charlie Mayhew x Fem!Reader

summary— what begins as a confession turns into a heated encounter at the altar with your mother’s priest. they say god forgives all but after this, you’re not so sure.

warnings— EXPLICIT CONTENT. degrading kink, praise kink, daddy kink, priest kink, unprotected sex, creampie, face fucking, face slapping, spanking, spitting, blasphemy, gaslighting, mentions of hell, mentions of drugs.

a/n— written while listening to religion by lana del rey.

You stepped into the dimly lit church, your heels echoing off the stone floor, drawing the eyes of everyone already seated. Your mother sat in the front, her lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes narrowed in disapproval as they roamed over your outfit, lacy, white, and far too revealing for the sanctity of the place.

You could feel the heat of judgmental stares as you made your way forward. A white garter peeked out from beneath the hem of your dress, resting against your thigh like a silent rebellion. It wasn’t just the dress; it was everything, your lateness, your attitude, your recent choices. Smoking behind the house had been the last straw for your mother, who was determined to have you confess your sins to Father Charlie Mayhew. You’d done worse but she hadn’t found out, might as well do as she asked.

Father Charlie stood at the altar, his presence imposing yet alluring. He was young for a priest, with sharp features softened by the flickering candlelight. His eyes briefly lingered on you as you approached, dark and inscrutable, before his expression returned to one of serene composure. His hands clasped in front of him, holding a Bible, as though the words inside it could shield him from whatever thoughts were swirling in his mind.

You slid into the pew beside your mother, her disapproval palpable. “You’re going to talk to him after the service,” she whispered sharply, not even glancing your way. "You will confess and make things right."

You barely heard her. Your attention was fixed on Father Charlie. Something about the way he looked at you, even for just a second, made your pulse quicken.

He stood at the pulpit, his voice echoing through the quiet church as he continued his sermon. The congregation sat in attention, but his eyes kept flickering toward the front row, toward you. You sat beside your mother, legs crossed, the lacy white dress slipping higher as you adjusted in your seat.

His words wavered for a moment, his gaze slipping to where your dress had risen, revealing more of your thigh. You could feel his eyes on you, feel the subtle heat of his attention even from across the room. A wicked thought crept into your mind, and slowly, carefully, you parted your legs, revealing the scarlet lace of your thong.

For a brief moment, Father Charlie’s voice faltered. His eyes caught the sinful glimpse of red beneath your dress, and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. His fingers tightened around the Bible, knuckles white as if he was trying to anchor himself to its holiness.

He paused, then spoke, his tone harder now, deliberate. “We must be wary, brothers and sisters, of the dangers of lust, of temptation. Of the Jezebels who seek to lead good men astray with their wicked ways.” His words cut through the air like a blade, but his gaze briefly darted to you once more, betraying the battle raging beneath his composed exterior.

Your mother shifted beside you, her disapproving eyes narrowing as she looked over at you, suspicion flickering across her face. She didn’t know what you had done, not fully, but she felt something was wrong. The sermon had taken an oddly personal tone, and she wasn’t oblivious to it. You could feel her judgment creeping in, but it only fueled the excitement that stirred within you.

Father Charlie continued, though his words seemed to be more for himself now than the congregation. “We must resist. Resist the lure of sin, no matter how enticing it may appear. For we know that the path of temptation only leads to destruction.”

As he spoke, his eyes met yours again, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire room had disappeared. There was no congregation, no mother, no church. Only the two of you, caught in the tension that simmered between righteousness and desire.

As the sermon ended, Father Charlie closed his Bible, but the tension between you lingered in the air. You bit your lip, feeling his gaze burn into you even as he tried to avert his eyes. Throughout the sermon, you had kept your legs parted, teasing him, the red lace of your thong on full display. He’d stolen glances, his composure faltering more than once, but somehow he had managed to make it through. Now, with the service over, the real test was about to begin.

Your mother, determined to show her righteousness, practically dragged you over to him. Her hand clutched your arm as she led you to the front of the church, where Father Charlie stood, his posture stiff and his expression carefully neutral.

“Father,” your mother began, her voice stern, "this is my daughter Y/N. She’s been...not of God lately. I’ve begged for her to come here so she can cleanse herself, confess her sins, and find her way back to the Lord.”

Father Charlie’s eyes flicked to yours for a brief second before he straightened, clasping his hands together. “I understand,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, though there was an undercurrent of something else, something darker, in his tone.

“Since she found her way into church late,” your mother added, giving you a pointed look, “I trust she can find her way back home. Keep her as long as you need, Father, until you’re sure she’s, renewed.” Her eyes darted to your dress, her distaste clear, before she turned to leave.

As she walked away, you watched the door close behind her, leaving you alone with Father Charlie. He stood there, silent for a moment, before finally speaking. “Confession is a powerful thing,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “It requires honesty, humility. Are you ready to confess?”

You gave a slow, deliberate nod, your lips curling into a soft smile. “I think I have a lot to confess, Father.” Your voice was low, teasing, as you looked at him through your lashes.

His jaw tightened, but he motioned for you to follow him to the confessional booth. Once inside, he slid the screen between you, his silhouette barely visible through the latticework. “Speak, my child,” he said, the formality of his words clashing with the tension between you. “Confess your sins, so that you may be forgiven.”

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to push further, testing the boundaries. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you said, your voice soft and sultry. “I’ve been thinking wicked thoughts. Lustful thoughts.”

He was silent on the other side, but you could sense his tension, feel the weight of his conflicted desires.

“I’ve done things, drugs, other things,” you continued, your tone growing more seductive. “Things I shouldn’t. With people I shouldn’t.” You shifted in your seat, your legs parting slightly, knowing full well he could sense it even if he couldn’t see. “Sometimes, I just can’t help myself. The temptation is too strong.”

Father Charlie cleared his throat, clearly trying to maintain his composure. “Temptation is the Devil’s work," he said, though his voice wavered. "You must resist it.”

You bit your lip, leaning closer to the screen, your voice barely above a whisper. “But what if I don’t want to resist?”

There was silence. You could hear his breathing, shallow and uneven. His hand shifted, and you imagined him clenching his fists, fighting the very thing you were offering. “You must,” he finally said, though it sounded more like a command to himself than to you.

You leaned back in your seat, a mischievous smile on your lips. “But daddy, don’t you want to help me?”

His breath hitched, and you knew you had him. At the same time you both exited the booth, his face looking flushed as he did.

As the tension grew between you and Charlie, your fingers brushed lightly over his chest, feeling the warmth of his body beneath his clothes. You leaned in, close enough that your lips barely touched his ear. “Daddy,” you whispered, your voice filled with temptation, “I’ve been such a bad girl. A dirty sinner. Punish me. Give me a preview of eternal punishment.”

His breath caught at your words, his hand grabbed your hair as he pulled you back to face him, his eyes dark with restrained desire. “You don’t know what you're asking for,” he growled, though his grip on you betrayed his true thoughts.

You smiled up at him, your lips curling in a teasing smile. “I think I do,” you murmured, arching your back to press against him, your hand slipping around his neck as you pulled him even closer. “Right here, in front of the cross, I don’t care.”

Charlie’s eyes flicked toward the large cross behind you, but his gaze quickly returned to your lips, unable to resist the pull. “You’re going to hell,” he muttered, before gripping your waist firmly, lifting you onto the altar as if he couldn't control his actions any longer.

Your legs parted naturally, and you wrapped them around his waist, pulling him in as his lips finally crashed against yours. The kiss was intense, filled with the heat of everything you both had been holding back. His hands roamed over your body, but even as he touched you, he still kept control.

“You're such a bad girl,” he said between heated kisses, his voice low and commanding. “here, of all places.”

You grinned against his lips. “I wanted you,” you admitted breathlessly, “and I knew you couldn’t resist, I always get what I want.”

Charlie’s grip tightened, his hand moving to your throat in a possessive hold. “You need to learn some discipline,” he growled, pulling you closer. “And I’m the one to teach you.”

Your pulse raced as you felt his control over you grow. The cross behind you seemed to sway slightly, but all you could focus on was the fire between you. His hands were everywhere, and every touch made your breath catch, your desire building with each second.

“You wanted to be bad?” he whispered harshly against your ear, his voice filled with both heat and command. “Then you’ll have to take what comes with that.”

Before you could respond, the cross behind you shifted, tilting dangerously. You gasped, glancing back just in time to see it tumble forward, crashing to the ground. The loud thud echoed in the church, but neither of you moved, the sound only fueling the intensity between you.

With one final, wicked smirk, Charlie leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “There’s no turning back now.”

He shoved you to your knees and you ripped your thong off, your fingers dipping to your sopping pussy as he rid himself of his robes and presented himself bare in front of you. “Suck this priest cock,” he demanded. Without waiting for a reply, his cock was sent into the back of your throat making you gag.

“That’s it little bitch,” he groaned, “take whatever the fuck I give you.”

You took him in, your mouth working around him, your cheeks hollowing as you surrendered to his brutal rhythm.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice thick with desire. “Just like that. You’re doing so well.” The way he spoke made you want to please him even more, and you found yourself pushing back against him, eager for more.

But then he pulled back, looking down at you with a mixture of pride and mischief. “I think you need a little discipline,” he said, the hint of a smirk on his lips. Before you could respond he grabbed your hair and pulled you over his knee as he sat at the altar, he then delivered a sharp smack to your ass, making you gasp.

“Did you like that?” he asked, watching you closely. You nodded, a thrill of excitement coursing through you. “I thought so,” he replied, his hand coming down again, the sound echoing in the church.

“Let’s see how many more you can take,” he taunted, giving you another hard spank, each one leaving a burning sensation behind. The mix of pleasure and pain made your head spin, and you found yourself craving more.

“Daddy,” you gasped, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I can take it. I want more.”

“Such a naughty whore,” he chuckled, the heat in his gaze intensifying. “But I’ll give you what you want. Just remember, you asked for it.”

He placed a kiss on your ass before his hard hand came down again, causing you to yelp. He chuckled darkly at the sounds you made before he gripped your jaw, making you open your mouth and spat inside. He continued his assault on your ass whispering darkly to you.

“This is what you like? Is this what whores like you enjoy? To be violated by their priest? Hmm?”

“Y-yes father,” you moaned, feeling his sharp hand come down again, you weren’t sure how much you could take but you didn’t want to let him know.

“Alright whore, back on my cock, make me cum and maybe I’ll give you what you so desperately desire.”

As you knelt at the altar, the irony of the moment didn’t escape you. Typically, this was a sacred space meant for prayer and reflection, a place where you sought forgiveness and guidance. But here you were, on your knees, not in a plea for redemption but in a silent prayer of your own worshipping the man who stood before you. Worshipping his big, thick, leaking cock. Thank God for him.

The flickering candlelight casted shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the way his lips curled into a smirk. You felt a thrill rush through you, knowing how wrong this was, yet wanting it more than anything.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice low and teasing. You got to work, spitting on his cock and taking him as deep as you could in your throat as tears left your eyes, as you did so he ripped your little dress off you making you gasp. The little sounds you made on his dick made him moan in pleasure. You continued sucking and not long after he held your head own as you gasped for air and came down your throat.

He clearly hadn’t released in a long time because there were still small ropes of his cum he pumped onto your face. With a smack, his hand came down across your cheek then he spat on you, making you stick your tongue out.

“Disgusting whore, you’re fucking filthy, sent from the devil himself.”

“Make me yours then,” you panted and Father Charlie smiled down on you.

With a swift motion, Charlie gripped your waist, bending you over the altar. The cool wood pressed against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat building within you. You felt exposed, your heart racing as you heard him move behind you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “So willing to give yourself to me right here in God’s house. I wonder what He would think of this.”

You could barely focus on his words as anticipation coursed through you. “I don’t care,” you managed to reply, your voice breathless. “Just please, Father.”

He chuckled, positioning himself behind you, and for a moment, you felt the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders. “You might need to repent after this,” he teased, his tone playful yet filled with raw desire. “But I’m sure God will forgive me for what I’m about to do, you, a fucking slut, not so much.”

You shivered, knowing this was all so wrong, yet feeling every bit of it was right for you. “Just take me,” you urged, your body craving his touch.

As he pushed into you, a loud gasp escaped your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and guilt flooding your senses. He was so deep inside your pussy, tearing you apart with a burning stretch. “Holy—” you started, but he interrupted.

“‘Thou shalt not commit fornication,’” he quoted, almost mockingly. “But we’re not fornicating, are we? We’re just, exploring.”

You could only moan in response, the feeling of him filling you pushing all thoughts of right and wrong from your mind. “Yes daddy,” you breathed, lost in the moment. “Just exploring.”

He began to move, his thrusts deep and steady. “You know, sometimes the line between sin and pleasure is blurred,” he murmured. “But I think we’re in good hands. God will forgive me, won’t He?”

“God can’t see us,” you managed to say between breaths, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

“Exactly,” he growled, picking up his pace. “And you’re going to come for me. Make it worth it, bitch.”

He slapped your ass harshly, making you moan and open your eyes to look at the holy water on the altar that fell to the ground and splashed on you. You could swear it burned your skin.

As the pleasure washed over you, the world around you faded, leaving only the sensation of Charlie’s body against yours. You felt yourself tightening around him, waves of ecstasy crashing through you until, with a final gasp, you came undone.

“God, you’re beautiful when you’re like this,” he praised, his voice thick with lust. He pulled out, letting you catch your breath for a moment before lifting you effortlessly. “Now, let’s take this to a more fitting spot.”

With that, he guided you toward the chair where the priest would usually sit, its authority mixed with your reckless abandon. He sat back, pulling you onto his lap in one smooth motion. The air was electric with anticipation, and you could see the flickering candles casting shadows around the room, the only witnesses to your sin.

“Get ready to worship,” he growled, guiding you down onto him. As you sank onto his length, a loud moan escaped your lips. The thrill of the position combined with the sinfulness of your surroundings sent a shiver down your spine.

“Look at you, taking me right here,” he said, gripping your hips. “You’re my little slut, aren’t you? Just my bitch to fuck.”

You nodded, feeling the words stir something deeper within you. “Yes, I’m yours,” you breathed, moving your hips to find your rhythm.

He thrusted up into you, each movement deliberate, as he leaned closer. “And you love it,” he stated with a smirk. “You love being my temptation, my little distraction. If God didn’t want me to be tempted, He wouldn’t have created you for me to enjoy. This tight, wet, leaking pussy for me to enjoy.”

With each thrust, the sensation built, and you felt the heat of his words mingle with the heat of your bodies. “You’re going to take all my cum inside you, aren’t you?” he commanded, his tone a mix of dominance and desire. “You want me to fill you up, to pump my cum into your tempting little pussy?”

“Yes, father,” you gasped, your body responding to his every word. The sensation of him filling you pushed you closer to the edge once more.

Just then, the cross above you trembled, tilting ominously before falling upside down. A collective gasp echoed in your mind, but you were too lost in your desire to care. The flickering candles burst into flames, sending wisps of smoke into the air as if the universe itself was reacting to your sinful act.

“Look at that,” he chuckled darkly, his thrusts relentless. “Even God can’t help but take notice of what we’re doing here.”

“Just don’t stop,” you urged, feeling the intensity build again and tears fell from your eyes. The mix of danger and pleasure was intoxicating.

“Never,” he promised, his eyes dark with lust. “I’m going to fill you up, and you’re going to remember this forever.”

With a few final powerful thrusts, he buried himself deep inside you, moaning your name as he released, filling you completely.

As the final waves of pleasure rolled through you, you both collapsed against each other, your bodies slick and exhausted. Breathing heavily, you felt the weight of the moment settle in. The reality of what just happened hung in the air, a mix of satisfaction and consequence.

Charlie pulled back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “You know this is all your fault, right?” he murmured, his tone both teasing and dark. “You tempted me, made me filthy.”

You shivered at the heat of his words, the intensity in his eyes igniting something deep within you. “I didn’t make you do anything,” you replied, a challenge in your voice. “You wanted this just as much as I did.”

He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. You made it impossible for me to resist. Look at you, so innocent yet so depraved.” His fingers traced your cheek, a contrast of softness against the edge of his words. “You walked into this church, dressed like a temptation itself, and now look where we are.”

His gaze flicked toward the now-upside-down cross, a symbol of your defiance. “You should be ashamed, everyone would chastise you if you said anything,” he continued, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. “But I know you’re not. You loved every second of it, just like I did.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “Maybe I did,” you admitted, unable to hide the thrill coursing through you.

Charlie straightened up, adjusting his posture, the authoritative presence returning. “Good. Remember that when you’re here alone, naked and exposed.” He smirked, taking a step back, his eyes dark with desire. “You think this is the last time I’ll see you? You’re wrong. You’re mine now. Your very being belongs to me. I am your God now.”

���You’re my religion,” you whispered.

With that, he turned, walking away toward the back of the church, leaving you breathless and alone. You stared at the cross, the flickering candles around it now extinguished, a stark reminder of the boundary you had crossed.

Naked and vulnerable, you felt a mix of fear and exhilaration wash over you. The reality of your actions hung heavy in the air, but the thrill of the moment lingered in your veins.

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Corruption

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Description: Bucky Barnes is a priest. Reader will do anything to tease him, break him, corrupt him. Bucky snaps and they have wonderfully rough sex inside his church. And then run away together.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, its filth, Teasing, Priest Kink, Corruption of a Priest, Choking, Spanking, Daddy Kink, punishing, Degradation, Readers a bad girl, She's do anything for Bucky, including crawling across the floor, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Church, Rough Oral, SexOral Sex, Cunnilingus, Top Bucky Barnes, Dominant Bucky Barnes, Light Dom/sub

Words: 9,551

Completed One-Shot

So I read Crossed by Emily Mcintire the other day, and I may or may not have a serious corruption kink. And then I thought, ooo, I like Bucky Barnes. Mix the two and boom, we have this. I feel like maybe I could have gone rougher, but I'm happy with the final product. I hope you enjoy it. Okay - So this is smutty. And a little kinky, a lot kinky. But I'd also like to have to said, I am not religious, so if I get any of the religious bits wrong, I do apologies, but yeah. I did a bit of research, but honestly, I'm here to write smut, not to fact check xD READ THE TAGS! Don't read it if it's not something you'll like.

Bucky Barnes was in his church, stood up on his stage running his session. It was sunday and it was a beautiful summers day outside, his favourite days to run a sermon. He was new to the village, but everyone had welcomed him with open arms and he knew everyone. So when he noticed you, a girl he had never seen before he was a little intrigued. You were sat in between two people he did know, a man and woman who must of been your parents. 

He thought you were beautiful. And it stressed him out, he was a priest, he shouldn't be thinking that you were beautiful, or anything of the sort. But you were beautiful, you stood out in the crowd, Covered in tattoos, you weren't showing much skin, but from what he could tell, yes you were a tattooed individual. He could also see you had a few piercings in your ears. He could feel himself become less enthused as he kept staring at you, so he coughed and tried to bring himself back to his sermon. 

You sighed heavily as the sermon carried on, your parents had, of course, forced you to go to church with them, like they had every year you lived in this pathetic town. When you had turned eighteen you moved far away, deciding you were going to become a famous musician, that didn't work out, so you had to move back home with your parents, they were happy to have you home. Unfortunately them, and everyone else in this tiny town were incredibly religious. And truly, it wasn't religion itself that annoyed you, it was having it shoved down your throat your entire life. 

At least the priest was cute, you thought to yourself as you drown out the words coming from his perfect pink lips. 

As Bucky continues the sermon, he would glance over to you occasionally, he was finding it hard to not look at you, he was a priest, he needed to shake it off. He knew it was wrong and yet here he was, staring at you.

You smirked when you noticed his eyes on you. Though once the sermon was over, finally, your parents dragged you over to the stage he stood on to meet him. Saying that meeting the new priest would bring you closer to god, they hoped. 

Bucky climbed down from his stage, it was only a tiny stage, only reaching his knee when he stood next to it. He straightened himself when you and your parents reached him, and his voice was deep and smooth, as he spoke in his proper priest voice. 

"Hello, you're the daughter?"

He asked, looking at you. His eyes couldn't help but quickly move down looking at your body, he hated himself for the movement. 

"That would be correct" You smirk, holding your hand out to him, you had had tattoos littered over your arm trailing down to your fingertips. Bucky shook your hand, and smiled softly at you. You watched as he looked at your tattoos. 

Bucky found himself wanting to see the rest of them. He mentally slapped himself for thinking like that. 

"Good to meet you...Mr...?" You ask, your voices trailing off slightly. He quickly snapped himself out of his inappropriate thoughts of you. Realisation kicking into his brain that he was staring too much. He felt like a creepy priest. 

"Barnes. Father James Barnes"

"Father Barnes" You repeated, the smirk still on your lips. 

"Yeah, that's me" He says softly, his stomach flipped at hearing you say 'Father Barnes' he hated himself even more for the thoughts that went through his head as he looked at you. 

"Come, let's not waste more of the father's time" Your father says, pulling at your arm. 

"Aw and I thought you wanted me to be closer to god?" You ask your father, a little winey. 

Bucky watched as your father dragged you away, he frowned a little, he found himself not wanting you to leave, he wanted to keep talking to you, he wanted to see more of those tattoos...

As you were dragged out, you turned just at the last minute to look back, and he saw just how pretty you were from the back and he felt awful, he didn't want you to go, and at the same time, he was glad you were going because his dirty thoughts weren't good. 

The next day you were wondering through the only grocery shop in the village, slowly moving your shopping cart as you looked at the list your mother had given you. Already you were getting dirty looks from the other shoppers, you smirked knowing it was because of your outfit. 

Your dress, it was short and showed so much skin. A cute little black dress with strappy straps on your shoulders, the dress was backless, showing off the magnificent tattoo you had on your back, though not finished yet, it was still amazing and to top things off, the dress was short, ending a few inches past your arse cheeks. It was one of your favourites, pureply because it pissed everyone in this little village off, and you loved that. 

Bucky was in the grocery shop with a small cart of his own. He hadn't been able to get you off his mind and just as he was about to turn the corner, he saw you. 

His jaw almost dropped as he saw you. His mind was screaming asking if it was you, and once he realised it was actually you, he couldn't help but get excited, but he didn't know if you would even want to speak to him. He was shocked and slightly aroused by your appearance. He swallowed, he tried to distract himself from thoughts of you. He was a priest for goodness sake!

He slowly walked over to you, hoping you wouldn't realise the growing bulge in his jeans as he approached, he wanted to talk to you. No matter how much he knew he shouldn't.

"Hello" He spoke softly as he stepped closer to you, forcing himself to look into your eyes. 

"Father Barnes, we meet again" You say, smirking as you saw him. As he heard you speak, he swallowed, the way you said 'Father Barnes' caused a whole range of thoughts to enter his brain. He couldn't help but look at your outfit. 

"We do" He says in a soft deep voice, he was trying so hard to focus on the face that he was a priest, but his mind kept betraying him. 

"How are you?" You asked, leaning forward a little to lean on your cart, your dress, surprisingly hid the most of your chest, but a small slither of cleavage was visible. 

Bucky swallowed deeply, trying not to stare at your bare skin. He couldn't control himself as he stared down at your body. He forced himself to tear his eyes away and meet your eyes again. God he despised himself for thinking like this. 

"I'm good, thank you" He says in a deep, soft voice. He hated how good you looked. 

"Good" You say, smirking a little. He swallowed again, he could tell you were acting a little teasy towards him, and it was driving him insane. He wanted to touch you so badly, but he couldn't, he was a man of God and he kept reminding himself that, over and over, until his mind wandered once again. 

"So..." He says, his eyes drifted down again "What are you doing here?"

"Well, it's a shop, Father Barnes...Take a guess" You say playfully. 

Bucky swallowed again, as his thoughts continued. He knew that it was just his mind, but he thought he saw you looking at his bulge once, and he didn't know it that was just in his mind or not. He looked back into your eyes, trying to distract himself once again. 

"You're shopping?" He asks. 

"That's a clever boy" You answer with a grin. As he heard you say that, every part of him wanted to shove you against a wall and kiss you, it make him feel more flustered. 

"Well...what are you shopping for?" He asked, trying to look anywhere other than your body. 

"My mother has sent me in with a list" You say with a shrug. Bucky looked down again, taking a quick peek at your body once more, hating himself again as he did. He hated this part of himself, he knew he had to ask something, but he felt so nervous. 

"Can I ask you a question?" He asks. 

"Sure" You purr, rolling your 'R's. 

He swallowed again for what seemed to be the hundredth time. He didn't know how he would react if he got the answer he so desperately wanted, but he had to try. 

"Do you..." He swallowed again, he hated asking this question. "Do you always wear short dresses?"

"Usually yeah...Do you disapprove, Father?" You ask, looking down at your dress. Bucky's mind was screaming at him again. He loved it, and he did not disapprove, but he was a priest. He wanted to tell you the truth, but what if that scared you, he swallowed again as he tried to form a sentence. 

"No...I...I like it" He says quietly, looking down to his feet. 

"You do? Naughty priest" You answer, smirking widley looking him up and down. He was dressed in his usual pricesty clothes, fully black and fully covered, and boy did you wanna see what was underneath. As Bucky heard those words from you, his mind went crazy. 

"Don't say things like that..." He said, his voice was slightly shaky. He hated that he liked how naughty it sounded. He looked around to see if there was any people nearby, when his eyes met yours again, he felt like he couldn't control himself. 

"Oh...Sorry" You say giggling a little. As you giggled, he was slowly being driven more insane. He hated how your voice sounded, the way you acted, the way you dressed, he wanted to do things so badly, he tried to control himself. 

"Don't apologise..." He said in a shaky voice, he was getting flustered so easily and you were noticing that. His neck was flushed red, from what you could see, his brow was sweating slightly. His eyes were darting all over the place, it made you want more, you wanted to keep pushing him, see how far you could get. Maybe not in the middle of the shop. 

"Am I allowed to do anything?" You ask playfully, having him tell you not to do something opening a fun teasing window for you. 

"It depends..what are you wanting to do?" He asks. 

"Oh, you do not want to know" You answer smirking, the ideas in your mind currently were enough to make you burst into flames if you walked into the church. 

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to ignore the fact that he did want to know, he hated that he wanted to hear all the things you wanted. He hated the fact that he wanted to do all the things to you that he had thought of. 

"Tell me..." He says in a lower voice, trying not to get aroused from all of this thoughts and from you in general. 

"Oh, Father. The things I've been thinking, they would make you blush" You say carefully, not wanting anyone in the store to hear you. You hadn't thought he would talk to you like this, from the moment you had seen him in that church you wanted him, wanted to corrupt him, but you never thought you'd get this far, you were loving it, you wanted more. 

As Bucky heard your words, his mind went to places he shouldn't be, and his heart race increased. He swallowed once again, hoping you didn't notice how much he was swallowing, and how flustered he was feeling. 

"I can handle it" He finally says, his voice still as shaky as before. 

"We've only just met, father...What kind of girl do you think I am?" You asked, faking a gasp. 

"Well... you're definitely a bit naughty..." He says carefully, knowing he shouldn't be saying those things to you. You nodded and smirked hard, not even blushing, he envied you. 

"I am, it's why I originally fled this annoyingly religious village" You say, muttering your words, you then realise what you said, and muttered a quick sorry, forgetting he was a priest. He chuckled softly at your words. 

"Yeah...that makes sense" He says, his mind still going places it shouldn't of. He hated himself for thinking like this. He was supposed to be a religious man. 

"So, I guess you dislike pricests, huh?" 

"No, definitely not, I just hated growing up in a religious village, it never suited me" You say, as he heard your words he nodded in understanding. 

"I understand that" He says quietly "So, where do you live now?"

"I did live a few hours away, but I had to move back, so I live with my parents again" You say, the annoyance in your voice evident. He looked back over you once again, his eyes drifting for a moment to look at your curves again, before he looked up to your face once again. 

"And how do you feel about moving back?" He couldn't help himself, as he spoke his eyes slowly drifted down to look at your outfit again. 

"Miserable, thought there's definitely something here now that could provide me with some excitement" You say smirking, looking him up and down. Enjoying how flustered he was at your presence. Bucky's cheeks were bright red as you say that and his mind went crazy. He hated that part of himself, which loved how you talked, so freely, he hated himself for being so weak for you already, he didn't know how to resist. 

"Oh? And what could that be...?" 

"Oh Father Barnes..."You say giggling, unsure if he knew exactly what you were talking about, or if he wanted you to say it out loud, you guessed the first one truthfully "I'll see you around" 

You say, and then you grab your cart and start walking away down the aisle. You had hoped when you walked he would look at your bare back, and arse as you walked away, making sure your cheeks jiggled for him. 

Bucky's eyes were wide. 

"See you-" He called out, his words shaky as he speaks. He was speechless as he watched you go, unable to keep his mind off you. Just before you turned the corner, you turned around and blew him a kiss. 

He was shocked as he watched your movements. This just caused his feelings to grow stronger, he felt himself blush deeper. He stood there, in shock, staring into space where you had just walked. He had never been this flustered in his life. He felt bad for feeling this way, but he wanted, no needed, you so badly. 

A few days later, it was Saturday and beautifully sunny, you decided to head down to the beach, no one in your little village ever went to the beach, it was strange but it meant you could go there, wearing your cute little bikinis and no fucker would say a word. With your bag over your arm, within in your towel, sun lotion and a book, over you bikini you wore a cute flowy white dress that travelled down to mid thigh, the sleeves were a little poofy on your shoulders and the edges of the material had cute little patterns with tiny holes traveling along the edges. 

Bucky had woken up early and after getting ready for the day, he decided to go for a walk. He found himself walking along the hot sand of the beach. He happily walked, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the clear thoughts and then he saw you. He stopped in his tracks. He knew he should leave, but he found himself walking towards you. 

You laid down your towel on the beach, setting up your little section, ready to relax. Bucky walked towards you, he saw your body in that short cute, white dress, he felt himself get aroused, but he tried to fight it. He was a priest after all. He swallowed as he got closer to you. You turn around seeing him, you smile widely. 

"Father Barnes, how nice to see you"

He smiled back, trying to ignore his thoughts. Seeing you out here under the sunlight, in that dress, looking so beautiful, was driving him insane and he hated that he liked it. He tried to find his words, but just seeing you was causing his brain to go crazy. 

"It's very nice to see you too" He says quietly, trying to keep himself calm and control in his word, as he stared at you in that white dress, that showed off your body so much. 

"Are you here to enjoy the sun to?" You ask, smiling sweetly at him. He nodded, his mind was begging to think of all the things he wanted to do to you. He was close to snapping. 

"Yeah, I am" He say in a quiet voice, as his eyes kept wandering down to you, taking in your curves once again, you were now sitting on the towel, looking up at him. 

"Join me?" You ask, smirking, you had a teasing look in your eyes. He swallowed as the words left your mouth. He wanted to, more than anything. But he was a man of god, it was so wrong, but god you looked so good. 

"I don't think I should" He says in a low voice, although his mind was begging to yell and scream that he wanted to, he wanted to do way more than just join you. 

"Oh" You say a little disappointedly "Well, that's okay, I was going to sunbathe anyways"

You say shrugging, you stand once more and grab the bottom of your dress, dragging upwards across your body, slowly, just to tease him, you pull your dress over your head leaving you in your dark pink bikini. Bucky froze as he watched you take it off, he didn't expect that, which wasn't a bad thing at al. He stared at you in your bikini, his eyes trailing every curve you had. He wanted to pull you against him and hold you so badly, but he couldn't. He was a man of god, he reminded himself. 

You laid down on your towel, sighing happily as you felt the sun shine down on your body completely. Bucky watched as you laid down, he couldn't take his eyes off you, as you displayed your body to him, his thoughts were running wild. He had wanted to lay down next to you and hold you, so badly, his mind was begging him to do it. Despite that, he forced himself to sit down next to you, and tried looking at the sky, and not you. 

"Oh, you decided to join me" You say, smirking. He bit his lip and looked over your body, he nodded. 

"I did" He said in a low voice, his mind screaming at him, begging him for take you. You grabbed your sun lotion and began rubbing it over your legs, and then your arms and then up to your stomach and to your chest, rubbing the lotion all over, knowing he was watching your every move. Bucky was watching, and he was watching closely. His mind went crazy as he watched you, the right of your body making it hard for him to breath. 

"Hey, would you mind?" You ask, breaking him from his trance. He looked up to your face, giving you a confused look. 

"Sure, what do you need?"

"Rub lotion on my back?" You asked, biting your lips and holding the bottle out to him "I can't reach"

His eyes went wide, he nodded, not trusting his voice currently. He reached over and took the bottle from your hand. He had to fight his mind as he thoughts screamed, begging to run his hands over your body. 

"A...alright" He said, in a surprisingly soft voice. 

"Thanks Father Barnes" You say with a smirk, turning over to lie on your front. You knew what you were doing to him. He hated how you could just make his mind go crazy. Even just calling him 'Father Barnes' was turning him on so badly. He put some of the lotion on his hand and went to touch your skin, when you stopped him. 

"Oh, wait" 

He stopped instantly, his heart was racing. 

You reach behind you and undo the string of you bikini leaving your back completely bare to him, you lie your head on your arms and try not to giggle, wishing you could see his face. He wanted to touch more than your back, but he couldn't....he couldn't. He was fighting with himself, he couldn't.  He was supposed to be a man of god. But god, he wanted to break that rule so badly right now. 

You sighed happily when his hands touch your back, rubbing your skin so gently with his big, soft hands. Bucky was breathing rather quickly as he continued, his mind begging to break his rules, but he couldn't let himself do that. He had to control himself, control his desires. 

"Mmm" You moan softly "Thanks Father Barnes"

He froze for a moment when you moaned, he felt himself getting more and more aroused as he touched you. 

"P..please don't call me that" 

"But that's your name" You say with a giggle. He continued to rub the lotion into your back, he swallowed and spoke in a low voice. 

"I know that...but it's my title. You calling me that like that...is making it harder for me to control myself" 

"Oops, sorry" You say quietly, but you weren't sorry. 

"N...no need to apologies...I just.." His hands stopped rubbing your back for a moment, as he paused, trying to control himself again. 

"Sorry, I know I'm a little bit of a bad girl" You say grinning, you move, holding the front of your bikini, you moved to do it up and sat in front of him, crossing your legs. Bucky's heart was racing as you watched you. He was struggling to ignore how you made him feel. 

"You...are definitely...a bad girl" He said quietly, but he didn't mean it as an insult, just a fact. You giggle playfully at his words. 

"Will god punish me?" You asked, fearing you'd pissed him off. 

"Yes...he will...he definitely will"

"Good thing I like punishments then" You say smirking, watching for his reaction. He swallowed, wanting nothing more than to give you those kinds of punishments, he knew that was a bad thought, he wanted to give them to you, he could think of a few in his head right now. He tried to calm down. 

"Are you saying you want to be punished...?"

"Are you offering. Father Barnes?" You ask, biting your lip, you even went as far as to clasp your hands together, making sure your arms pushed your chest together, giving him a view. Bucky bit his lip as he heard your words, he knew he shouldn't of answered, but something in him snapped and the words left his mouth anyway. 

"....yes, I am"

"You should be careful, giving me all kinds of ideas" You spoke, and he was. Ideas and ideas went through your mind, imagining his spanking you, tieing you up, gagging you. The ideas were enough to make you feel wet in between your legs. Bucky wasn't being careful anymore, he wasn't thinking straight, not when he wanted you so badly. He hated how weak for you he was, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't resist you, even though he was suppose to, he couldn't fight these feelings when they were so strong for you. 

"What kind of ideas...?"

"Who's being naughty now?" You asked him, shuffling a little closer to him, careful not to get any sand on your skin. Bucky found himself wanting to give into his desires, wanting to hold you, kiss you, tell you all sort, his body felt heated. 

"I am...god, I'm being naughty" He said, shocked at himself, he should of walked away and never spoke to you again, but he didn't. He stayed. And when you giggled, he felt his heart burst. 

"Yeah you are, whatcha gonna do about it?" You asked, your playful tone now more serious. He looked you up and down and finally spoke. 

"I'm going to...punish you" He said, his voice low and dominant. "You are you? Wanna take me back to your pretty little church? Bend me over that stage" You say, grinning, his blushed harder with every word, you spoke again, wanting to see his reaction "Spank me?"

Bucky's eyes widen, he could picture it so clearly. The image in his mind turning him on more. 

"Yes...I do" He says quietly then slowly he stands up and looks down at you. 

"Get up, we have somewhere to go" He adds. 

"Holy shit, really?" You asked, shocked, you hadn't thought he was being serious. You stood up and brushed down any sand on your body. 

"Yes...really...right now" He says, his voice low and dominant. 

"Gods, fuck" You whisper, you grab your dress and put it back over your body. Bucky smirked as he watched you, his mind was going crazy, he wanted you so badly, once you were ready he started to walk, and you followed close behind him. 

"Walk a little quicker" He orders, his voice still soft but dominant. 

"Yes Father Barnes" You respond, reading for this dominant side of Bucky. Your body was warm, and tingling. You picked up the pace, and walked toward until you reached the church, Bucky unlocks the doors and hurries you in, locking the door behind you. He grabbed you by your shoulders and pushes you against the wall, pinning your wrists against the wall, keeping you held against the wall. 

"You're about to break so many rules" You say grinning "You sure you wanna do that?"

Bucky swallowed as you spoke, he felt how close you were, his body pressed against yours. He looked into your eyes and replied in a low dominant voice. 

"Oh yes....I want to.."

"Naughty, naughty priest"

He chuckles softly as you spoke, he leaned down to your ear and whispered very quietly. 

"I want you so badly....I shouldn't...but I want you so badly"

You giggled at his words, enjoying him, enjoying being pinned against the wall by your naughty priest. You thought to yourself, your parents were wrong, you couldn't be made into a good girl, being bad was too much fun. 

"Punish me" You whisper. Bucky bit his lip, he liked that you were enjoying this. 

"You're going to across my lap, and I'm going to spank you" 

"Fuck...yes sir" You whispered. He let go of your wrists and moved back slightly, he walked over to a pew and sat down, he looked at you and pointed down next to him. 

"Come here then" He said, using that dominant tone. You walked over to him and climbed onto him, resting your front over his lap, you pushed your hands against the pew, holding yourself up. 

Bucky smirked, he wrapped his large firm hands around your waist keeping you still over his lap. Once you were comfortable, he reached down and started moving your dress up your legs, pulling it over your behind, bunching it up at your lower back. 

"Ready?" He asks. 

"Yes, Father Barnes"

Bucky's eyes trail over your bare legs as he raised his hand up into the air, he swallowed as he held it there for a moment before swifty bringing it down on your bare skin. He could hear the sound of his hand smacking your flesh as it echoed around the empty church. 

"One" He said in a low voice, still keeping his hand against your skin. You moaned loudly the second his hand came into contact with your skin. He slowly removed his hand from your skin, and took a second to look down, he was able to see the red mark on your skin and he found himself wanting to see more. 

He brought his hand up again, and brought it back down on your skin, this time a little harder. 

"Two" He said in a low voice, his hand resting against your skin for a few moments before being lifted again, then he brought it back down, once more a little harder. You wiggled a little on his lap as the slaps echoed through the church, you kept your eyes closed and moaned each time. 

He repeated the process, each smack getting harder. He swallowed as he slowly started seeing more, and more red marks appear on his skin. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter in your bikini bottoms, you wanted Bucky to know, so you had a little idea. 

"May I do something, to make it easier for you?" You ask sweetly. He stops spanking you for a moment and looks down to you, his hand was still resting on your arse whilst he raises an eyebrow at you. 

"What...what is it?" He asks in a low voice. You carefully climbed off his lap and moved your hands to shimmy off your underwear, you dropped them on the floor and then climbed back onto his lap in the previous position you had been in. 

"I'm all yours" You purr. 

"Just remember, you asked for this" He says calmly, he could see you now, your naked arse cheeks, if he spread them he'd see both your holes, ready to be used by him. He didn't, he needed to punish you first, and not get distracted by your perfect little holes. 

"Oh, I know baby" You say grinning. He swallowed as he heard you call him 'baby' he found himself liking how you sounded so sweet. 

"I want you to count them" He says bluntly. 

"Yes, Father Barnes" You say. He brings his hand down to your arse again and you count, starting again from one. 

Two. 

Three.

Four.

Five.

You could feel yourself dripping from your clearly needy pussy onto his trousers, you had hoped he could feel it also. Bucky could, your wetness had dropped down onto his thin trousers and soaked through onto his skin, he bit his lip and stifled a groan. 

"You're doing so well" He whispers. 

"Am I being a good girl for you?" You ask playfully. 

"Yes, you are being a good girl...for me" He admitted in a low voice. 

"If you keep going, I'll only ever be a good girl for you" You whisper, meaning the words as you say them. You may have only met the man a few days ago, but you felt it, wanting this feeling forever. Bucky smirked, he loved it, loved that you were going to be good for him, it only turned him on even more. 

"Oh really? You'll only be good for me, no one else? Just for me?" He asks, wanting to hear you confirm it again. 

"Just you, I promise....Father Barnes" You say, adding his title just to tease him a little. 

"Good girl, you're mine now, aren't you?"

"Yes, Father Barnes" You repeat his title, smirking. 

"Good, I like the sound of that" He said, the tone of his voice giving you away all he was feeling for you, all the things he wanted to do to you. You giggled softly, and sighed happily as he rubbed his hand over the red mark in the shape of his own handprint on your skin. 

"Can I make a suggestion?" You ask. 

"Yes... what is it?" He asks, his mind running wild at whatever you could be thinking. 

You move off his lap, your legs feeling a little wobbly as you do and then you stand in front of him. 

"I'd like it if you would fuck me, up there on you little stage" You say, smirking and pointing to the stage at the top of the church. He swallowed hard, he never thought he would hear you say something like that. 

"Are you trying to be naughty?" He asks, in a low dominant voice. 

"Always" You say with a giggle. 

"That's not very good, being naughty on purpose...I will have to punish you more for that then" He says, smirking darkly. 

"Punish me how...daddy Barnes?" You ask innocently. Bucky's mind was going crazy and he knew if you carried on like this he would lose it. 

"That would be telling..and good girls trust their daddy's don't they?" 

"Fuck, yes they do" You whisper, happy he played into your kinks. He loved how you responded, it only made him want you more. 

"Good girls obey their daddy's, don't they?" He asks, taking a step closer to you. 

"Yes sir" You say quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. "You know what good girls do?"

"What do good girls do?" He asks, still trying to control himself. 

"They crawl on their hands and knees up to the pretty stage where their daddy will fuck them" You say innocently, a sly grin forming on your lips. Bucky felt his arousal instantly fill his body even more, his mind full of scenarios and thoughts less tame than before. He wanted you so badly, you were so bad, so naughty, and he loved it. 

"You're being a very naughty girl, right now"

You nodded and slowly slide down to the ground, resting on your knees, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Am I?" 

"Yes, you are..." He said in a low voice as he watches you sink to your knees, his cock was painfully hard now, still confined in his trousers, he got harder when he looked down at you, knowing you weren't wearing panties under the dress. 

"Yes, you still want me to do it, don't you daddy?" You asked, you were so wet, this was exactly what you needed, deprived, messed up foreplay, leading to passionate and hard sex. And you didn't think the village priest was going to be the one giving it to you. Bucky's cock got harder every time you said daddy, it wasn't a kink he was aware he had. But here you were. He was losing control of himself, he nodded before he answered. 

"I do want you to do that...so much" He said, his voice barely above a whisper, he couldn't believe you were going to crawl across the floor for him, he couldn't believe you let him spank you. He was shocked that he even had it in him to do this, but he liked it. You smirked and moved so you were on all fours, making sure your dress was resting on your lower back, giving him a peek of your dripping wet pussy. And then you started to slowly crawl to the stage, the ground was cold and it hurt, but you could hear Bucky's heavy breathing and knew this was affecting him and that was all that mattered. He moved with you, walking behind so he could see you, his mouth watered as he looked at your wet centre, he wanted his mouth on you, his tongue deep within your folds. 

"Such a good girl" He murmurs in a low voice, his eyes following your every move. 

"Imagine if I had a little leash, you could lead me by the throat" You say quietly, the idea causing a shiver to run through you. Bucky's breath hitched, he loved the idea. 

"Oh yes, imagine that..." He said quietly, his eyes trailing over you, thinking about how it would look with a little leash, following you. Once you reached the bottom of the stage you sit back on your knees, facing him. 

"Use my mouth?" You ask, giving him wide innocent eyes as you look up at him. Bucky loved this, he loved how submissive you were being, all for him. He had started rubbing his cock through his trousers, he had never been so hard before, it ached, he needed his cock inside of you. He looked down at you, sitting on your knees, and he know what he wanted to do with you...now it was just about getting you to beg for it. 

"How badly do you want that?" He asks calmly. 

"Bad girls don't deserve opinions, they have their mouths used, whether they want it or not" You answered, you had hoped this answer showed Bucky you weren't playing, you wanted this, and you wanted everything and anything he was willing to give. He swallowed once as he heard you say this, he liked the way you talked to him right now, the control he had over you, it was driving him crazy. 

"You are a bad girl, aren't you?" He replies. You nodded and opened your mouth, your tongue bar shining as you stuck your tongue out. Bucky felt his mouth go dry in that moment, he never thought he had a tattoo and piercing kink, but today he knew for sure, he did. It took all of his composure not to grab you and kiss you. 

"God, you're so good" He mutters, finally he unbuttons his belt, throwing it somewhere, he had a little thought that next time, he was going to use that belt on you. Though he did really like seeing his hand print on your skin. Your mouth watered as he pulled down his trousers and boxers, he stepped out of them, and kicked them aside. His hand was now around his cock, his hard cock, he pumped his hand around it a few times, stepping closer to you. Your mouth was still watering, he was large, thick and veiny, you squeezed your thighs together imagining it stretching you out. 

Finally Bucky grabs the back of your head and thrusts his cock into your mouth, doing as you requested, using your mouth. He groaned loudly at the feeling, sure he had done things like this before...before... but it had been a long time since, but nothing compared to this, your mouth was perfect and Bucky found himself thrusted hard into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, all whilst he was muttering a string of 'fucks' and 'gods' your sweet, hot mouth enough to make him take his lord's name in vain. He didn't care. You kept your mouth open for him, closing your lips around his cock, moving your tongue best you could, but he didn't leave much space inside of your mouth. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, your mascara stained and in streaks down your face, you didn't care as you moaned loudly for him, you moved one of your hands down your body to your wet untouched pussy, your fingers slick as they pushed through your folds and down to your hole and then back up to your clit, you expertidly pressed against the little bundle of nerves moaning loudly, you hoped Bucky would see what you were doing and punish you more. 

Both of his hands were on either sides of your face, he held you as he fucked your mouth, he was very aware of your breathing, making sure to check on you in the midst of him face fucking you. He stroked the tears away, slowing his movements down when he sees your hand moving fast against your own skin. He stops moving holding his cock in your mouth for a moment, gagging you until he moves away, you take a few deep breaths and then look up at him, your mascara was no longer on your eyes, now completely streamed down your face, you had drool around your lips, your puffy red lips. Bucky thought you looked beautiful. 

"Why are you doing that?" He asked, pointing down to your hand, still moving slowly through your slick core. 

"I'm a bad girl, remember?" You ask, your voice a little scratchy. 

"Yes, you are a bad girl" He says, his voice still dominant. You giggle and keep your hand moving, sitting more on your bum now, spreading your legs a little, though your dress hid you mostly. 

"Don't you like watching me?"

He swallows as he watches you, his eyes were trained on your hand, wanting to see more. 

"I do like watching you" He admits. 

"I can keep going?"

"Yes...yes you can" He says in a low voice, loving this too much. 

"Anything for you" You whisper, you stand up from the ground and hop onto the stage, sitting on your bum. You raise both legs and rest them on the edge of the stage so you were spread out completely for him, the air hit your pussy and it felt great, and knowing it was the only place where Bucky could look right now, made you feel warm inside. You lifted your dress and moved your fingers back down, spreading your lips further for him, letting him see your tight hole. You watched as Bucky licked his lips, his hand was around his cock again as he stepped closer to you, watching you completely expose yourself to him. 

"Good girl" He whispers, taking another step closer, he was stood at the edge of the stage now, his body a teasing distance away, he kept watching you pleasure yourself, gasping when you pressed two fingers into your hole, you were wet, so wet that you could hear the noises your body was making with each movement from your fingers. 

"Why don't you come for me... come for me" He says in a low tone, he swallowed as he stayed still watching your fingers sped up, he licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to taste you, but he didn't, wanting to see you finish, just for him. Your fingers move perfectly against your skin, just how you liked it until you were coming hard, calling out his name as it echoed throughout the church.  Bucky loved it, he wanted more, wanted you to moan his name over and over. He couldn't take it anymore, when your legs flopped slightly, he pressed both of his hands to your waist, needing to feel your skin. 

"Take me Father Barnes, right here, on your stage" You say, feeling a little lopsy. Bucky smiled as he heard your words, you were begging for him, and he loved it. 

"Oh, I will" 

"How do you want me? On all fours? On my back? Bent over your little stage?" You asked, giving him ideas. Bucky pictured all the options and more, and he needed them all. His mind was going crazy with thoughts again. 

"All of them...I want you in every position imaginable" He says, his voice still dominant, full of want and need for you. 

"Oh you sweet man" You say with a fond giggle "Careful, or I may fall in love"

Bucky froze for a moment, he found himself liking the sound of you falling in love with him, he wanted you to be his, and only his. He takes another step towards the stage, now very close to you. 

"Oh I want you to be in love with me" He says in a love, dominant voice, as his eyes roam over your body, he wasn't able to hold back his feelings and desires any more, he needed you so badly. 

"Show me what that cock can do, and maybe I will" You answer, a foreign feeling in your chest, though you tried to ignore it. 

Bucky climbs onto the stage, climbing over you body, hovering over you, his hard cock bounced against his stomach. 

"I'll show you..." He says in a low voice, his breath tickling your lips now. You grin and wrap your arms around his neck, laying your hands flat against half his neck and half his jaw. 

"You're mine...you do know that, don't you? You belong to me" He murmurs, his breathing becoming faster, his mind full of lust and desire. 

"All yours, take me you naughty priest" You say quietly, his cock was dragging across your lower stomach, leaving a wet stripe of precum and it made you want him even more, you opened your legs wider, a silent beg for him. Bucky looked down, seeing you pinned underneath him. 

"Mine to take" He says quietly, his hand moved down to grip his cock, slowly he rubbed his head through your very wet folds, both of your breaths hitched, and you moved your hands to grip his shoulders. 

"Make it hurt" You say playfully, done with the slowness you needed him, deep inside of you. 

Bucky swallows again, he was shocked by the request, but excited and aroused by it at the same time. 

"You want it to hurt?" He asks, just wanting to confirm what you mean, wanting to hear you say it again. 

"I want you to fuck me so hard the walls shake, put your hand around my throat, so I feel dizzy as I come hard squeezing your cock" You say in a low, filthy tone. Bucky's mind ran wild, he pressed the head of his cock inside of you, groaning loudly at the tightness of you just around his cock. He couldn't imagine how you'd feel fully around him. 

"You're a bad girl, a very bad girl" He says quietly, you nodded and wiggled your hips, moaning softly when he went in a little deeper. He grinned, knowing he was teasing you and enjoying the feeling. He felt himself grow harder within you, if that were possible, he knew he couldn't hold back any longer. 

"Such a naughty, impatient bad girl. I'll have to punish you even more, even harder..."He says, in a low dominant voice, as his mind got wilder. 

"Punish me, take me...please Bucky" You begged, hoping that using his actual name would be enough. He finally pushes deep into you, slowly stretching you, you both moan loudly, your nails dug into his shoulders whilst his hands balled into fists on either side of your head. 

Bucky felt himself going crazy, it felt...better than anything. He loved it, so much and he wanted more, wanted to hear you moan, again and again. He began to slowly move, his body on top of yours, pinning you to the church stage, he moved one hand down to your hip, holding you so hard it would surely leave bruises, or at least you hoped. 

"Hold my neck...please" You begged. 

For a moment Bucky worried that he would really hurt you if he did, but he was past arguing, he was going to do anything you wanted. He slowly moved his hand from your hip and slowly trailed it up the side of your body up to your neck. He wrapped his large, strong hand around your neck, keeping a good firm grip on it. You moaned loudly, his thrusts got harder and deeper, and with his hand on your throat it didn't take long for the pleasure to rip through you, you moaned loudly, enjoying the echo through the church, as you came hard, squeezing his thick cock. Bucky groans loudly and fucks into you harder, he closed his eyes and moved to rest his forehead on your shoulder, his hand still firm on your neck as his hips fuck into you. 

"Do you like it, me having my hand around your neck like this...?" He asks. 

"Y..yes! Wanna know what I love even more?" You ask, your voice strained under his grip. 

He lifted himself from your shoulder, slowing his thrusts. 

"What do you love more than this..?"

"I love that I corrupted you, Father Barnes" You say with a smirk. He swallows, he couldn't deny that you did. You made him break his vows, he was acting against everything he had swore to do. 

"Yes...you did corrupt me" He said, his voice dripping with desire for you. 

"I'm a naughty little sinner"

"Yes you are... you're a naughty little sinner, but you're my naughty little sinner. My bad girl, and you're mine to do what I want with you" He said, his dominant tone having a underlying care to it. His thrusts were hard and deep, the slap of his hips against your hips loud and wet. 

"Gods yes...Are you gonna finish inside of me, daddy?" You ask smirking, your back was arched and your legs lopped to the side of his hips as you struggled to hold them up. 

"Yes, I want to...Oh, can I?" He asks, his tone sounding more pathetic by the second. His forehead was against yours, his hand tightened against your throat as his thrusts got messy, you were so tight around him, he was euphoric. 

"Do it"

"Are you going to be a good girl for me...and take it all?" He whispers, his thrusts sloppy and fast as he pounds into you. 

"Yes sir! Oh yes...daddy! Yes..Father Barnes" You whine as you feel yourself finish again, clenching around his cock "I'll take it all for you"

Bucky sped up, his hand tightened as you wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him fuck into you deeper, you both moaned loudly as you felt him finish inside of you, he groaned and slammed his hips against yours, keeping himself fully into you as he pulses, filling you with his seed. 

Your vision went spotty as his hand gripped you, the pleasure overwhelming you, you gripped hard on his shoulders. 

He slowly let go of your neck, moving his hand down to your hip, holding you close to him, wanting you to never move. 

"How do you feel, my little sinner?" He whispers. You take a large breath and giggle. 

"I'm great...are you...okay?" You ask. 

He swallows and rests his head against your shoulder, breathing slowly as he tried to process what he had just felt with you. 

"Yes...yes, I'm okay...that...that was incredible. You're incredible..." He whispers, his mind still feeling wild with everything he felt, but also beginning to slowly return to a calmer state from before. You held onto one another for a while, not speaking just breathing and existing together. 

"Can't believe we did it in a church" You say, with a giggle. 

He slowly sat up, removing himself from you. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked at you, his eyes still full of desire, but also full of something else, he was in awe of you. 

"I know..I never thought I could do anything like this..least of all in a church. But I don't regret it, I don't want to regret what we did...I'm glad we did" He says, his eyes still roaming over your body, he couldn't help himself. 

"You don't regret it?" You ask carefully, a small part of you worried, he would. Maybe he'd get angry at you. But he shook his head, looking into your eyes. 

"No...I don't regret it, not even a little bit. I don't regret doing that with you, not after what it felt like...not after hearing you like that. It's something I will never forget. I'll never regret doing something I wanted to so, so badly"

"You just threw away a life to god, for a girl, you just met" You say quietly. He did feel horrible for it, forgoing his life goals, but he knew from the moment he had set his eyes on you, that he could never resist you, he could never resist the temptation...

"I know...I know I sacrificed something I swore my life to...but it's something I wanted to do. I wanted you, you won over god"

"Bucky...you...you don't even know me" You whisper, the guilt suddenly settling in, surprising you, you hadn't thought you would feel guilt, but when you looked into his blue eyes. "I can't believe I did this to you"

Bucky shook his head, not knowing what to say, but he knew he wanted to say something to make you understand. 

"It's not your fault, don't put this on yourself...I'm the one that threw my life away. Don't feel guilty. You're innocent in this. This is my doing, it's my fault, I wanted it too" He explains, though you wanted to giggle, you definitely were not innocent. 

"I...I don't even know why I'm feeling guilt, I never do...What makes you, so different" You say, wiggling a little, still lying underneath him. He was staring at you, his eyes roaming over your body like you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He wasn't sure of the answer himself, but he had to explain. At least try to explain why he felt the way he did and why he felt like he couldn't resist you, and what was different about you. 

"I don't know why either...You make me feel powerless" He whispers. You smile softly, feeling the same about him, you reach up and press your lips against his ever so slightly. You both sigh contently into the kiss for a moment, before you move away and ask. 

"What do we do now?"

Bucky swallowed as he wondered the same thing. He knew that he had given up everything he had sworn to do. He could never be a priest again, ever. He was lost and he really had no idea what to do. 

"I...I don't know...What are we supposed to do. I'm lost. I feel like I should have a plan, but I don't...I really don't have a clue on what the hell I'm going to do now" He whispers, feeling lost. And you felt the same. Neither of you belong here. Maybe he never did belong here. 

"Fuck.."You whisper, then thinking of an idea. "We could run away together"

Bucky thought about it for a moment, nodding his head slowly, the idea beginning to make sense to him the more he thought about it. 

"Run away together...I like the sound of that...yes. We could run away together, we'll go somewhere we won't be found, we start over and we stay together"

"We could...I have no money...but I'll get a job, we'll drive away, get money, move into a quiet little cabin, away from people" 

Bucky smiles slightly as you talk, imagining the scenario in his head. He loved it, the idea of running away together to somewhere no one would know know of. He loved the idea of being alone, with you. And only you. 

"I have money, I have enough to last us for a long time, we could live for months, maye a year. But yes, we can live somewhere away from everyone. Somewhere quiet and away from any prying eyes"

"And you're sure?" You ask quietly. He nodded, more confident than ever that he was making the right choice by choosing to run away with you. 

"Yes...yes I'm sure. No hesitation, I know what I want, and it's you. I'm sure of it, I want to run away with you" He says quietly, his nose bumping yours slightly. 

"Let's go then" You say smiling. He smiled and nodded, leaning down to give you a kiss. 

"Alright then, we'll pack, and get out of here as soon as we could" He says quietly,

"We need to get up and get dressed and go" You say, smirking, the idea was mad, completely crazy. But you never felt like you belonged in this village. You never felt like you belong anywhere, but with Bucky, you could belong. He stood up first, helping you onto your feet, you dress quickly and take both his hands in yours, standing in front of him. 

"I'll go to my house, and then we meet here, in an hour?" You ask, rubbing your hands over his palms and up his arms. 

"Perfect, I'll see you in an hour" He says with a smile. 

"See you soon handsome" You whisper, reaching up to peck his lips lightly. 

Bucky kissed you back, feeling himself blush at the compliment, a smile appearing on his face. He looks down at you, meeting your eyes, feeling new feelings wash through him. 

"I'll see you soon beautiful" He whispers, kissing you again, before he slowly released you from his arms, watching you leave his church. Soon you'd be together, away from this town, and together. Where nobody knew you. You couldn't wait, you packed the very basic things, leaving a note for your parents, before you met Bucky back at the church, he was ready with his car. And with one more kiss, you got into the car and drove away from the village where neither of you belonged. Both scared and terrified for the next step into the adventure, but you'd be together. 

[yeonjuns-beanie]

Blasphemous Rumours

Warnings: 18+, smut, hierophilia, sacrilegious acts, priest kink, fucking on an altar, suggestive themes in a confessional, riding a rosary(?...), hair pulling, biting, light blood play, exhibitionism, suggestive themes during mass, probably smth else but i don’t remember. nothing too crazy🧌. im debating on linking the playlist i wrote this to, but it would kinda get rid of the anonymity of this account…. ~nero :)

Father Paul Hill x female!reader

Word Count: 6.3k

You hated this fuckin ferry. 

You loved your family but you never understood why they never left that island. When you found your way out you left without a second thought. Vowing to never settle here again but that didn’t mean you’d never visit your family. Usually for the holidays you made your way back out here, but this time you just had a break in your schedule and wanted to visit. Wanting to visit didn’t trump the hatred you had for riding this fucking ferry though. 

To be completely honest you didn’t hate the ride itself but rather how the journey made you smell like a feeding bucket at Seaworld. The evening sun was gracing you with its last bit of warmth as it began to tuck itself behind the horizon. Against the cool mist of the water for a split moment, you almost understood the appeal of this lifestyle.

Almost. 

The ferry pulled up to the dock and your eyes fell on the shoreline meeting some abandoned nets and dried out seaweed. The seagulls' mews echoed as you exited the boat. Grabbing your bags you took a deep breath as your feet hit the sand and you began the trek up to your family home. 

Nothings changed. 

It’s been years and everything still looked the same. The houses, the people, hell even the smells were the same. It was uncanny. You saw the church in the distance and were relieved knowing that you could finally lay your bags down soon. As you passed the church your eyes landed on a relatively young man standing outside, a warm smile welcoming anyone that passed by. Styx-colored locks, a slender frame, and a face that looked ever so familiar. Pressing your lips together in a close-lipped smile and waved at him making a mental note to speak to him later. 

Your family’s house was only two doors down from the church and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to see them. Knocking on the front door you eagerly waited to see who would see your face first. 

“Coming!” 

You heard faintly from the other side and you were greeted by the face of your mother. 

“Y/n! Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you!” 

She embraced you immediately, nearly squeezing the life out of you. 

“Hi, Mom.” You chuckled 

Over her shoulder, you saw your little sister, Briar, smirking at you trying her best not to laugh at your current situation. Your mom pulled you into the house motioning for you to come eat dinner as you arrived just in time. 

“Please, come eat. We’ll worry about your bags later. You came just in time to go to mass with us after.”

Mass? Why so late?

“Mass? Did you guys miss it this morning or something?” 

Washing your hands you turned around to face your family as you dried them. Before you sat down at the table your dad came from around the corner physically interjecting himself into the conversation as your mom spoke. 

“No, they happen—hi dear, they happen in the evening now. A new priest has been filling in for the Monsignor. Apparently, while he left for his trip to Jerusalem he fell terribly ill. Such a shame. But Father Paul is phenomenal! I think you’ll like him.”

Your mom looked at you with a knowing smile and you knew exactly what she was teasing you about. You rolled your lips around your teeth and began to eat, swallowing a sly comment. 

After you guys finished dinner, you fixed yourself for mass. Although you weren’t religious on your own time, you did it for your family while you were here. Plus, it allowed you time to wrestle with your feelings with Christ to see if it really wasn’t for you. Your relationship with God or whoever was out there was complicated. Wildly complicated. You knew in your heart that you were a formal sinner yet you lacked the guilt that should’ve come with that. 

If anything, you relished in it. You loved being entangled with the feeling of sin, it made you feel alive. You felt so strangled as a kid with religion, as if every move you made was under scrutiny so when you found the courage to separate yourself, you may have overindulged in things that were impious in nature. 

Just as you were this evening, clad in a low-cut tank top, a hoodie, jeans, and slip-on Vans. If you felt you didn’t belong in Crockett before, you definitely visually fit the part now. Looking like a complete foreigner in comparison to everyone else. You screamed city. From your clothes, and makeup, even down to the way you spoke. You tried your best to eradicate every trace of Crockett when you left but there was one thing you couldn’t scrub away. 

God. 

God always found a way to squirm His way around your brain and tether you to this island. 

“Y/n! You ready, honey?” 

“Yeah!”

Spraying yourself with a light perfume you walked out into the front room where your family was waiting for you. Filing out the door, the walk to the church was quick which was something you despised as a kid and you could feel those same feelings bubbling up as you neared its entrance. It was as if God was mocking you, knowing that you had such an internal feud with whether or not you believed, what was right and wrong, and if you even had a sliver of faith left within you. 

Sitting down in the pews next to your family, you felt at home once the incense filled your nose. The strange feeling of comfort washing over you as memories of your childhood flashed in front of you. The tottering organ that was moments away from wood decay, the massive crucifix in the center arch of the back of the church, and the haunting glow from the warm ambient lighting had you questioning yourself once again. You swallowed the thought, deciding that nostalgic comfort was weighing out your need for logic. 

You were pulled from your thoughts as everyone around you rose to your feet and the chimes of the bell echoed through the building. It was at this point that you realized how many people were stuffed into the pews. Mass was never like this as a kid. 

He’s either the hottest thing known to man or he’s sent from God himself. 

Anticipation settled in your stomach and you fought the smile that was begging to stretch your lips. You needed to know what it was. Maybe he was just a really good preacher, and you were being facetious–or maybe you just walked into the next Jim Jones story. Either way, your eyes were glued to the hallway counting the seconds to the procession. 

As everyone around you opened their book of hymns you were fixated on the white robe that exited the side door.  You didn’t recognize either of the altar boys and for a brief moment, you wondered where the last two poor bastards ran off to. But then your eyes fell on his. His stark black hair wasn’t as neat as it was earlier today when you were walking through town. A few pieces in the front dangled over his right eyebrow and his head was bowed slightly as he walked through the pews. 

Your mind was pulled away from fully taking in the man as you were distracted by how full the church sounded. When you were younger the hymns always sounded so hollow and weak, but tonight it resembled a traditional mass. Savoring the moment of repose you felt, you found it within you to appreciate the music resonating through the building finding it somewhat odd that they were singing a hymn that sounded so haunting. 

At His feet the six-winged seraph, cherubim with sleepless eye~

Your attention drifted back to the priest where he kneeled at the steps and then bowed his head at the altar. When his head raised to stare out across the pews you felt your eyes widen slightly at the sight of him. Your mom nudged your side, smirking when you turned to look at her. 

“Told you.”

You shoved your tongue in your cheek, swiping it across your teeth as you sat back down. Mass went by in a blink considering you were completely engrossed in the man in front of you rather than his preaching. At some point, you completely tuned out his biblical orations and resorted to the simple pleasures of imagining him and yourself in various scenarios in the church. 

In the pews, across the altar, across the altar with the front door open waiting for Beverly to waltz through, in the confessio-

“Honey, come. I want you to meet Father Paul.”

Your mom tapped you on your shoulder pushing you out of your trance of thoughts. Standing up, you smoothed out your top and took a deep breath in an attempt to shake out the tension in your shoulders you most certainly built up during your daydreaming. Walking out of the church you wondered why you were leaving if she wanted you to meet the man. You turned around and noticed that he was no longer at the altar either. Stepping out to the front, your questions were soon answered as a smooth voice sounded from behind you. 

“I see we have a new face in town.” 

Your mother butt in before you had a chance to speak for yourself. Laying her hand across the small of your back introducing you to the man you just spent the better half of an hour fantasizing about. 

“For a little bit, we do, yes! This is my daughter, y/n. She usually comes around for the holidays but we got lucky this time around. This used to be her home until about two years ago.”

You stuck your hand out, Father Paul grabbing yours with a firm grip and you couldn’t help the compulsion to stare at his hand for a moment before quickly finding your mind and smiling at him.

“Nice of you to step in for the Monsignor. My mom told me you’re his stand-in for the time being.” 

“Yes. I apologize seeing as I’m not who you expected, but I assure you he’s on the road to recovery.” 

As Father Paul spoke, you couldn’t quite place why he looked and felt so familiar. You were running through files of how you could’ve possibly known him but nothing was coming out concrete. 

“Oh! No need to apologize. I quite enjoyed your sermon, it was very similar to what I was used to growing up here. It’s as if he never left.” 

You chuckled out your last sentence and suddenly nerves found themselves coursing through your body as you maintained eye contact. You were committing his face to memory. Whether it be for personal reasons in the dead of night or to try and figure out where you knew him from. You’d wrestle with that later. Right now, you were just hoping that you weren’t being painfully obvious. 

You were. 

You were bordering a fine line of staring and eye-fucking him that your mother and sister were finding absolute humor in. Your eyes flickered back and forth between his clerical collar and his face trying to shake the thoughts that were circling their way around your head. 

“Well, I’m glad that I feel so familiar to you. I hope to see more of you during your time here with us.” 

He smiled at you with such sincerity you forgot about all the lust brewing for a second. His face held so many emotions but you couldn’t place any of them. 

“You will.”

You smiled back at him, your eyes holding something a little more heavy though. You were aware of the priesthood’s celibacy and something about knowing you couldn’t have him made the feeling that more intense. Although, you didn’t miss how it seemed the feeling was reciprocated while you looked at him. Father Paul spoke, breaking the silence that you two created. 

“Well, it was very nice to meet the rest of your family, Mrs. L/N, but I am afraid that I have some matters to tend to back in my rectory. You all have a very nice night.” 

His gaze lingered as he spoke, giving you the same treatment as you did moments before and it was making you squirm on the inside. His gaze was soft but so intense and the contrariety of it left your mind racing. While you and your family said a choir of goodbyes, you watched Father Paul walk away as your family made the way back to the house. Your sister spoke up, whipping you from your thoughts. 

“At this point, you should just tell him you want to fuck him.” 

Both of your parents exclaimed your sister’s name in shock but the two of you were left laughing. 

“Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad.” 

“Y/n, you might as well have been sucking his fingers in front of us.” 

As you guys walked back into the house your mom snickered as you genuinely asked for her opinion. 

“Was I being that obvious about it?”

She paused. 

“You could be…less obvious about it.” 

You groaned in embarrassment rushing straight to your room to avoid any teasing for the night. 

“Goodnight!” 

~*~

You couldn’t sleep. You opened your phone to check the time knowing full well that it was the middle of the night. You just wanted to see how late it was. 

3:33. 

Shit. 

You let out an exasperated sigh wiping your hand across your face. It was usually at this point in the night that your hand found its way in between your pajama pants and gently glided itself across your sensitive floret. Your hips jolted forward at the contact and as soon as that sensation spread through your body, images of Father Paul flickered in your mind. As your finger circled over your clit you found yourself reaching your climax faster than usual. As your orgasm flooded through your limbs, your chest heaved for air trying to calm the euphoria running through your veins. 

Pulling your hand from under the sheets, you let your arm drape across your eyes grappling with what you just did. But before you could really identify the problem with your actions, sleep weighed heavily on your eyelids. 

When you woke up, your middle of the night scandal was the first thing on your mind. 

How am I gonna look at him again? 

A string of questions ran through your mind leaving you mentally scattered but as you got ready for the day and saw your sister in the main room, it left the front of your mind. 

“Morning.” 

“Morning. You gonna go to church today?”

You shot your sister a look that was a mixture of embarrassment and a playful knowing. You two erupted into a fit of giggles that ended with you looking at her out of the corner of your eye. 

“Maybe.”

She watched you, impressed by your honesty, and nodded her head. Taking a sip of her drink she spoke through her swallow making her voice a little gummy. 

“Your best chances of seeing him are in the evening. For some reason, he’s stopped coming out in the day. Probably to avoid Bev. That woman would sew herself to his hip if she could.”

“Bev was up the Monsignor’s ass too, nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve never seen someone try to get so close to fucking God.” 

You both were laughing until you saw your mother emerge from the hallway and you halted the sound in your throats. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing. Just givin’ Bev shit for being Bev.”

Your mom laughed through her nose and shook her head at your antics and you were preparing for a small lecture. 

“So I take it you’ll be heading to the church tonight y/n? Typically we only go on Sundays now but I’m sure Father Paul would be ecstatic to see one of us a little more often.” 

Your family took great pride in taking the piss out of you and to be completely fair you made it quite easy. You rolled your eyes at your mother because even she knew you had lost touch with your faith, but now you had reason to find it–maybe. 

“I wasn’t planning on it but since Briar and now you have both greeted me with the question maybe I will. Build some rapport with the man.” 

“We both know you’d wanna build something more than rapport with him.” Briar chimed in. 

“I literally can’t even! You know…with him. It’s against their whole code. Don’t think I forgot. But also they like should come up with a code to not have hot priests, I’m just sayin.” 

They both just hummed in agreement still silently giving you shit. 

“You guys are terrible.” You laughed. 

~*~

You had all day to conjure up a scheme of how you’d find a way to get close to Father Paul and you finally decided on a plan while you were getting ready. 

Confession. 

Technically you didn’t need a priest for confession but it’d be nice to have someone listen while you were in the box. Everyone separated into their rooms for the day and you hoped that was still the case when you stepped out of the house. 

“Skirt’s a little long isn’t it.” 

You didn’t expect Briar to be sitting in the main room so her voice spooked you before you registered her words. 

“Yeah, but I think the side slits balance out the potential prude.” 

You shoved your leg out to the side showing off how the slit in the maxi skirt stopped at the middle of your thigh. Paired with a fairly tight black long sleeve and chunky boots, you were bordering on looking like a mortician. In your mind, being clad in all black hid not only you, but your true intentions from being so visible. The last thing you needed was being sniffed out through a choice of clothing, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hopeful for an interaction. 

“I’ll be back.”

“Be safe.” Briar snickered

Stepping out into the cool night air, you were thankful to feel something other than the emotional heat from your family. It immediately soothed your nerves and you found yourself focusing more on your plan. With the church doors open, you noticed you saw nobody walking in and when you walked up the steps you were surprised to see the pews empty. It felt like you were intruding, like a fly buzzing around a dinner table. Your footsteps echoed in the empty building and you felt an overwhelming feeling to run out and forget about this elaborate plan. To sacrifice your need for affection and carnal satisfaction for a walk across the shoreline or to the general store. Just something else. 

Your eyes panned over to the confession box and you were wrestling with your gut feeling to stay. Maybe you should confess and get it off your chest…just not with him there. With disquieted uncertainty overcoming you, you took a step back to exit the church deciding that you’d come back another day, but when you expected your body to glide through the air, you stumbled into something solid instead. Whipping your body around you apologized profusely. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was spaced out and didn’t hear anybody behind me I’m so-” 

And then you paused. As your eyes traveled up to meet the person you stumbled into your eyes caught the clerical collar. It was like a bullet lodged itself into your chest and you felt your limbs begin to grow cold from shock. You knew who lied above that collar and you had to find the guts to look at him in the eye. 

“It’s no trouble at all. Are you alright? You seem pretty startled.” 

Father Paul placed his hand on your shoulder looking down at you with genuine concern. You made the mistake of looking at him directly in the eye and you wished you didn’t. His deep brown eyes furrowed under his brow waiting for your response but you were entranced by him. Stuttering when you found your voice. 

“I, uh, yeah. I’m fine. I just was in my head about something.” 

Father Paul cocked his head slightly trying to figure out where to step with you. He narrowed his eyes for a moment and flickered back and forth between you and the confessional box. 

“I noticed you were quite focused on the confessional, were you looking to confess this evening, y/n?” 

You panicked. Backed in a corner, your mouth moved faster than your brain. It was too late before you could register the words flying out of your mouth. 

“Well, yes and no. I’ve been quite separated from my faith as of late but I’ve been struggling with…some intense internal issues that can’t be ignored now. I’m not sure if confession would make it better or worse and that’s why I was so engrossed in it.” 

“Well. We’re here now. If you’re comfortable, I can lead you through it.” 

You were hesitant. You worried that in your current state, you’d divulge too much, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed to do. To just get it all out of your system and bear the humiliation. You looked at him one last time and it was as if he was waiting for your compliance. He may as well have been extending his hand out to lead you to it. Closing your eyes and accepting this as a fated moment you inhaled a deep breath and nodded. 

“Okay.” 

Walking to the confessional, you got down on your knees, folded your hands in front of your mouth, and exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You looked through the latticed opening and made out a few of Father Paul’s features. A feeling began to pool in your stomach as you realized the dynamic of the situation you were in. Your mind swiftly moved into the gutter wishing you were on your knees for a different reason. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned–and will continue to do so.” 

You paused deciding one last time if you were going to bear all your bones here. Swallowing your pride, like a gun sounding the start of a race, you relieved yourself with zero guilt. 

“Being separated from my faith has left me in a deeply sacrilegious state. For the most part, I can ignore my thoughts, my taboo interests but since I stepped foot back on this island it's all come bubbling back up.”

You looked to see if Father Paul was looking at you but he stared straight ahead giving you his complete focus to your confession. 

“I find, grave desire in things I shouldn’t. Sexual hunger that I can’t displace somewhere else because I know the only reason it brews within me is because I know it’s wrong. Father, these feelings came back to the surface when I laid my eyes on you during Mass. I couldn’t help it. The feeling that pooled in the depths of my stomach and left me aching for something more. Forgive me, Father, for my boldness, but I fear that the only way I can feel relief is to…release.” 

You felt your breath quicken at how honest you were being but it was soon replaced by the feeling of of excitement. 

“I know it’s wrong but I…I can’t stop the feeling. This is all I can say, I’m sorry for my sins.” 

Silence. 

You felt like you sat in silence for an eternity waiting to hear his voice echo to your side, but you didn’t. Instead, you heard the pace of his breathing. You almost confused it for your own but you held your breath trying to calm your nerves and still it echoed. 

“Father…I. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any-” 

“Y/n. Come to the other side. 

As you rose to your feet, you heard the door on his side of the confessional click open. When you stood in front of the door, it was the first time this evening you found the courage to look him directly in the eye. There was a dastardly hunger swimming in his brown eyes. Like a predator stalking his prey, his aura was intense and left you frozen in front of him awaiting his command. His eyebrow slightly cocked upward and his hand raised, coaxing you towards him. You followed, pausing before you stepped inside his side of the box but he coaxed you forward with his voice so smooth and alluring. With little room, you were left to slot yourself in between his legs. 

Your breath hitched as you looked at him again and he patted his thigh with his hand that was wrapped in a rosary. Clenching around nothing, you made the swift decision to close his legs and straddle them instead of taking his knee. Letting your hands rest on his shoulders you stared him down. Nothing but salacity was radiating between your bodies and quickly you began to feel your desire rise into your face. Searching his eyes for any indication of his feelings you opened your mouth to speak but he occupied the silence before you. 

“I wondered if, you would find the courage to be truthful and I must say I’m struck by your honesty.”

Your heart nearly stopped. 

You fucked this up, bad.

“Father, I-”

“No need for any apologies. I’m glad you were so honest.” 

“You…you are?”

“Lying is a sin, so yes. But it relieves me of my own prurient conscience so that I may indulge in you free of guilt.” 

You weren’t paying attention to the movement of his body due to being so focused on his words, but when his words were punctuated with the rolling of his rosary-clad finger across your cloth-covered center, you were made very aware. Your cunt clenched around nothing and your body lurched forward unintentionally writhing over his hand. Your breath came out in shutters and your eyes, now hooded with lust, gazed into his own in a frenzy. 

His fingers kept gently teasing your bud through your panties and you couldn’t help the compulsion to ride in tandem with his movements. The beads of the rosary gifted you an unknown kind of pleasure that you knew would afflict your mind for the rest of time. It was a feeling that was near indescribable but the pleasure was too good to deny. You rested your head on his forehead, gripping onto his shoulders for some type of leverage. You bit the corner of your lip in an effort to silence yourself, but your ragged breathing was near that of an incensed bull. 

“If you did a better job of controlling yourself yesterday, I may have been fooled by your sheepish nature, but you just couldn’t quell this desire on your own, could you? You went home to seek some satisfaction but you found none, so you came here to plague me instead. Praying that I’d fix this ache within you. Am I right y/n?”

You went to respond but Father Paul’s finger slipped past the barrier of your underwear, leaving you to feel your arousal be spread across your puffy petals. A moan escaped your throat and the way it echoed off the confessional walls into the church made you shrink into his body. A pathetic attempt to hide from your lechery. Father Paul hummed, urging you to speak as he sank two fingers into your honeyed garden. Catching your breath, you found your words. 

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Father~”

You brought your head up to look at him again, too dazed to even feel like this was real. As his fingers continued to roll themselves against your sweet spot, your breath quickened as your mouth stayed ajar looking for the courage somewhere in yourself to slot your lips against his. As he rolled his finger over your swollen bud, your body decided for you. Your lips danced in a sweat and lust-filled hysteria leaving your brain foggy with desire. You rolled your hips into his hand needing more of him and your sounds slowly increased in volume as you felt a bead of the rosary slide across your center. The feeling of the beads slightly grazing your sensitive lips brought you faster to the precipice of elation than you expected and you pathetically whined for your release. 

“I’m, I’m close, Father.” 

You expected him to speed up his ministrations, but instead, he removed his slick-ridden fingers from your garden and brought them up to his lips. As if his hand was dripping in myrrh, he sucked you off of his fingers and paused before he spoke. Ghosting his fingers across his lips, his tongue hesitantly licked the tips of them as he dragged his hand away from his face.

“If you’re going to be brought to rapture by my hand it will be done when all of me is inside of you.” 

Father Paul motioned you to stand up and you staggered out of the confessional with him not far behind. He grabbed your hand and dragged you down the center of the church pews up to the altar. Ripping the white cloth off the altar, Father Paul held his hand out before sitting you down on the altar. He caressed his hands down the curves of your body before toying with the waistband of your skirt. Looking down at you, you saw the fervor swimming in his irises. 

“My sweet lamb, is this alright?”

You nodded and he slotted himself in between your legs feeling his bulge at your center. Depraved and corpulent lust washed over your body and your fingers fumbled with his belt, unfastening it with haste. You looked up at him and his face was closer than you expected, the heat radiating off of your bodies leaving a mist of humidity between you. You palmed him through his jeans and an inviscerated moan crawled out of his throat. The sound urged your body to move faster, the need to have him inside of you becoming near unbearable. 

He kissed you again, insatiable ardor all that you could taste. The feeling trickled down your body leaving goosebumps across your soft skin and a river seeping through the fabric of your panties that slowly painted the apex of your thighs. He tapped your thighs and you took it as a sign to lift your hips. In a swift motion, your skirt and underwear were left in a pool by the altar. Father Paul removed himself from his sweater, throwing it in the pile of sacrilegious cloths that served as a visual reminder of the desacralization that was about to take place. He left his button-up to cling to his chest and he moved his jeans and underwear down to the middle of his thighs, leaving him with his fervid cock on full display. 

You kicked your boots off your feet, the thud echoing a little bit louder than you intended. With your feet now free from their confines, you wrapped your legs around Father Paul’s legs, bringing him as close as possible. Your hand slithered between your bodies and varnished the tip of his cock in your amatory nectar. Your moans harmonized in synchrony and you gazed into his lust-blown eyes seeing nothing but black and you were sure yours were the same. He asked silently one last time for consent and you nodded slightly before he entered you. 

The stretch of his cock was something you felt only one could dream about. It filled you perfectly and you knew you wouldn’t last long. Your head dipped back in zeal, relishing in the feeling that was rushing in waves over your form. When your head tipped back up, your eyes met the enlarged crucifix that hung in the center of the back wall. For a reason unknown to you, locking eyes with Jesus as you desecrated His holy house made a pang of carnal hedonism tangle in your sexual daze. 

Your hands webbed themselves in Father Paul’s hair gripping at his strands and pulling his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder, feeling his breath heat up your skin. You felt his mouth open and drag itself across the side of your neck. A slight chill graced the parts where his spit marked his territory. You felt his breathing get heavier and all of a sudden you felt his cock slip out of you and he picked you up from the altar, turning you around and kicking your feet into a perfect V shape. He bent your body over the altar and slowly pushed himself back into you, the new angle making you cry out in complete perverted passion. 

His thrusts were deep and pointed making sure that you felt every inch of him drag in and out of your seraphic labyrinth. Just when you felt that the feeling couldn't get any more intense, his hand entangled itself into your hair and pulled your body up, flesh against his chest. His thrusts became rougher and you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. 

“Feel good, my dove?” 

You were fucking yourself back onto him, any coherent thought on the brink of leaving you amidst your ardent pleasure. 

“S-so…so good, Father. Shit.”

You were running out of air, your body paying more attention to the dam that was about to burst within you. 

“Better than your hand?”

“Uh-huh”

Your eyes were rolling back in pleasure and were hooded as you looked back at him. He gingerly guided your body back down to the altar and removed his hand from your hair, slowly tracing his hand down your back. Both of his hands grabbed your hips and the feeling had you crying out as his tip kissed your cervix. You felt his body lean over yours as he moved your hair away from your neck. His breath was sticking to your neck before a whisper ghosted over your ear.

“I’m sorry, but trust me right now.” 

He licked from the base of your neck and then you felt him pierce your skin with his teeth. In your licentious stupor, you just moaned out at the contact not fully registering that his teeth were sinking into your flesh or the fact that footsteps were echoing through the church. 

“Father, you weren’t in your rectory so I assumed this would be second best to find you-oh…” 

Bev.

Her grating voice almost brought you out of your daze, but Father Paul resorted to slow, deep thrusts as he kept he kept sucking your neck. When he lifted his face from your neck you felt a warm liquid trickle down your skin and pool towards your collarbone before landing on the altar. You lifted your head, your body weak and wracked with pleasure. You could barely make eye contact with her as your eyes were so hooded but you heard her voice resonate through the building once more. 

“Haresis Dea.”

Your head dropped unable to focus on her and your body rolled back into Father Paul’s, needing more of him as your orgasm was slowly fading back into your body. As you moved against him, his hips slowly began to thrust back into your sloppy cunt as Bev waited for some semblance of an explanation. 

“God has chosen her. He has chosen to consecrate this union, this nocturnal metamorphosis with lascivious intent because she is the last piece. God has willed it this way and has chosen her.” 

Father Paul bent down to lap at your neck again and his hips regained their momentum. You pushed yourself up from the altar and wrapped your arm around the back of his neck lapping at the blood that was dribbling down his chin.

“Very well.” 

And you heard Bev’s footsteps walk out of the church, the main doors closing behind her. Father Paul picked you up again, turning your body back around to face him. There was a certain ferality that wasn’t in his features before that had you clenching around his cock. With the doors shut, you both let your moans reign loose, a salacious cacophony filling the air. Your eyes scaled up the wall again and you came face to face with Jesus as a pool of heated arousal settled in your lower stomach begging to be set free. Your head knocked back in avidity and you didn’t see him slice a small cut in his wrist. 

When his thumb found your enflamed bud, you brought your head forward and he placed his bleeding wrist against your lips. As a wave of sexual delirium washed over you, your mouth hung open and he urged you to suck on his wrist. The metallic taste flooded over your tongue as your orgasm heightened your senses. Father Paul kept fucking you through your high until he reached his own, his cock painting your labyrinth a warm alabaster. He pulled his wrist away from you as you both were trying to calm down your breathing. 

Both of your mouths now covered in a drying garnet hue, you found yourself pressing your lips against his once again, unable to satisfy this ache completely. He chuckled as you both pulled away. 

“Easy, my dove.” 

You nodded, placing your hands flat against his chest. 

“Let’s get you dressed and then walk to the rectory, hmm?” 

Licking your bottom lip and locking it behind your teeth, you nodded as you slowly made the return back to your body.  

© yeonjuns-beanie

[musouie]

── .✦ 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊

pairing: priest!levi ackerman x fem!reader

cw- sacrilege, blasphemy, power play, voyeurism, paranoia, degradation, loss of virginity, p in v, choking, whipping, sex in a church // ao3 version - 7.7kwc

synopsis: Father Levi believes you to be a demon in human guise. His only solution? To fuck the evil out of you.

Your head hung heavy as 'amen' tumbled from your lips, weighed down by shame and the burden of confession. Your chest was tight with it, your tongue sour from it, and you would hold back the admission if you could, but it was nigh as much a bother to suppress the truth as it was to speak it.

Thus, it spilled out onto the cold stones of the chapel's floor. Twisting around your body like fog, insinuating around you like arms, tightening about your shoulders as if to wrench them down in penance.

Each time you uttered it – the truth – the ropes of guilt that bound you drew taut...

You should have swallowed it. 

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” The words felt clumsy and overly articulated upon your tongue, thick like grease, coated with bile. “I have known temptation.” They stuck to the back of your throat. “I have failed to resist.” Like flies in the heat, they squirmed. “I have broken the commandments” — They peeled off like paper and scattered in a foul haze about you — “in thought.”

“How so, child?”

His voice came slowly, ponderously, from the other side of the lattice. It almost crawled around the cold confessional as if he might approach you and set his cold, clammy hand upon yours where they trembled in your lap. Where they clenched your dress.

“I have wicked in...tents.” You heaved, the effort of forcing your words past your lips almost too much. “And done unmentionable deeds.”

“It is not wholly uncommon to be guilty of such. Tell me what has come about,” he implored, and the faint trickle of skin-on-skin told you he interlinked his hands.

Trembling and gripping your thighs as you relented, "I have dreamt foul things. I have thought sinful thoughts.” Blasphemous. Monstrous. Weeks and weeks and weeks. “I have sullied my flesh in darkness.” The nightmares were so terribly lucid, they'd spill you from sleep, soaked and hot and — you clenched your legs together. “I have roused myself to impure pleasures.” Shamefully, each time in succession.

“And in your unconscious moments, how do these thoughts manifest?” His voice did not rise. He did not shun you. At that point, your terror took on a new dimension when you considered that he already knew the answer. 

Your next confession came a whimper, no louder than a mew, and the priest shifted in his seat. “There is a man — I see him in my sleep — but he is not real.” You paused. “Or rather, this version of him isn't.”

“This version?”

“He looks like someone I know.”  Your nails sunk into your inner thigh. “He acts like him, too. He talks, walks, and even smells like him" A shudder wracked through you "But it is not him. He would never...”

“Ah.” Is all the priest could manage. There's a grunt, then silence. But a silence so full. 

Then, quietly he spoke, and the soft inflection of sympathy he allowed to colour his tone caused your grip on your flesh to loosen in surprise.

“Lust is no foreign notion, Child. At the very eve of creation mankind was driven by it. What man is not?” You knot your hands together. “It is part of the human experience, the human consequence, and acknowledging it is the first step towards redemption.”

“This is not mere lust, Father,” you said, or whispered perhaps.

“Sin never is.”

You swallowed hard, relieved by his understanding, yet the sting of shame lingered. “I am aware, Father, but it feels... overwhelming. It consumes my thoughts, my prayers. I fear that it is all that I am.”

“Lust?”

You nodded, a gesture unseen. “Lust. It all but runs through my veins.”

“Well, the path to-”

“-Father, you do not understand!” you interrupted, your voice bordering on a whine. It carried far louder than you'd intended, rattling the rafters, and the volume frightened you. Your eyes darted to the stained windows.

“...And why might that be?”

“I cannot help but act on it…I...I touch myself," you admit, this time with your voice much softer. “My fingers meet my warmth most days than not, an insatiable craving that haunts my waking hours. I find release as the sun rises, and again as it falls, the same man haunting my thoughts each night.”

“I- see…” came the priest’s response, and silence descended once more.

You assumed that he was coming up with a satisfying response…something to quell your worry and to ease your mind.

However, unbeknownst to you, on the other side of the confessional booth a naughty priest was breathing raggedly into the palm of his hand as a tent grew in his breeches.

“Father…?” you called out, panicked, nerves betraying your curiosity in a shrill whine. Silence was, after all, often never a good thing.

But this silence? No, he couldn't tell you of it; how he was clamping a hand to the source of his torture to still the throbbing. He couldn't tell you how his mind was flying, like a bird darting this way and that in flight, from blasphemy, to Hell, to gluttony, and all of the many awful sins this would lead him to committing.

He gulped, and tried his hand at speaking.

But he needed a second to compose himself. That was the truth. A selfish moment to collect his thoughts, in which he could keep his voice from hitching under the strain of his excitement. This was sin, most definitely, but the things that he was thinking-

He opened his mouth with a swift exhalation then, and in his breath a serpent was coiled. Subdued, but coiled. “F-Forgive me, pray continue.” He said with a crack in his voice. “For there is no surer way to be washed anew than to unburden oneself of everything.”

His sentence petered out, and you heard him gulp. It must not just be yourself, then, who was nervous.

Somewhat calmed, you continued,

“...I-It is not only that...I wish to touch him too. I envision it. Oh, I do, I do. I imagine him taking me, Father, in as many ways as there are stars in heaven, whispering devotion into my ear the same way that the Devil does in the late of the night. Oh, Father, I know that not even God can absolve me of such an offense. As much as I pray for forgiveness, I know he will not grant it. Will refuse to."

The priest audibly swallowed. Was it just him or had the temperature risen? He licked his lips, his breath suddenly seeming stuck within him. Why was he breathing so heavily? He wanted to exhale softly through his mouth, his shoulders rising slightly in his bid for air but… He could not.

“It is all just indecent up here, Father. Indecent, obscene, and vile. How can God find affection for one with a mind as corrupt as mine?”

“Child,” he said, in that strained voice once again, “how can He extend His love to any among us? We are all stained, all guilty of transgressions; it is His mercy that distinguishes Him.”

A shaky laugh fled your lips, and it rattled throughout the wooden panel of the confessional. “But Father, do you, too, grapple with such earthly desires? Could you possibly understand my plight?”

The question slipped from your lips before you could keep it, and the immediate silence in the still air made your heart pound. You wanted to retract it, swallow it down—

But before you could open your mouth, the answer came.

“...I am, after all, a man of flesh and blood.”

Your gut twinged, a sudden rush of warmth flooding your body like hot water had been spilt, because the priest's voice was husky, and quiet as it was, it was rough with an emotion you had never heard from his tongue before.

Something rawer, something far less pure.

You swallowed thickly.

“W-Well how do you expel such thoughts, Father? I have yet to learn, so if you, too, carry heavy sins such as I...”

Again, the priest let out an unsettling noise. A sound from his lungs of forced expulsion.

“With discipline,” he said firmly. “And with prayer. A shepherd is no use to his sheep unless he possesses a rod. The mind is not so unlike the flock, oh child. We must bring it under control, lest it wander into damnation. If you say that you are a beast, if your mind is a slave to flesh, then tame it, child.”

You pressed your lips together. Tightly so, that your chin began to tremble. “...And what if it does not work, Father? That is what I fear most. What if the carnal urge is far too potent, that not even the Lord himself can tame it…that not even the Holy Trinity, in all their might, can dominate it in its entirety?”

A silence settled between the two of you. A kind, eerie and silent as it was—a pit of sorts, hollowed out into the chapel's stone floor—that left you with the sense that you could fall into it. Or be sunk by it, should the tension prove too much.

“...Do you want to be saved?” The priest asked, his voice dropping considerably in its volume. Perhaps he had inched forward. Perhaps he was all but a breathing shadow, here but a spectre, as half as solid as he was in the eyes of his parish.

“Yes…” you whispered, because though you had not said it out loud, that was, indeed, the singular purpose for your visit. Saving yourself from whatever horrible, deadly thing preyed on you in the night, whenever it found you.

“Then simply have faith.”

“I am trying but…”

“But what?” came harshly.

You lowered your eyes, staring at your feet once again. The cool, worn surface of the confessional's wooden bench pressed against your palms. “Nothing, Father.”

And he said not a word in return. Not for a long while, at least.

It was a silence that stretched on and on and on, a silence that threatened to engulf you, a silence punctuated only by a shaky exhale from beyond the lattice. “Tell me… are- are you a virgin still, child?”

The inquiry was soft, fraught, more intimate than his last, and your head snapped up. A beat or two passed before the gravity of his question properly hit you. When it did, you felt the flurry of a blush bloom across the flush that already coloured your cheeks.

“Yes, I…” you faltered. “I have never given over to temptation. Not yet, Father.”

The last part was stated slowly. Deliberately. Delicately.

He sighed, a sound laden with relief. “Then your temptation shall be greater than any others’, for the Devil desires to rob you of your innocence and purity.” He could see your hand rise to your mouth. “You must resist him, my child. You must counter your lewd thoughts with two prayers and quell your desire with two verses.”

“Father,” you whimpered, and his cock throbbed and pulsated. 

His chest heaved as he reclined against the bench, trying his hardest not to palm his crotch, though it was proving more difficult by the second.

He found it repulsive and vile that he was growing aroused at a penitent’s vulnerability, at their struggles. But your whines and your fantasies had gotten the best of him.

He had spent so long under the thumb of cold celibacy, and it had taken merely fifteen minutes to undo that resolve. But now, nothing was as abhorrent as his indecency. Nothing except how much he now desperately wanted to seek his own release. 

He too, needed to repent.

“It must be done, lest you wish to be defiled.”

You felt a surge of heat in your veins, a fire that burned your flesh. You knew not what to do, for you were torn between obedience and curiosity.

What was this strange feeling that stirred within you, this longing that you could not name?

“Father,” you whispered pitifully, “please, have mercy on me. I do not understand what is happening to me. I do not want to sin, but I cannot help myself.”

To this the priest spoke sternly, as if to scold you. “My child, you are under the influence of a dark and powerful force. A force that preys on the weak and the innocent. A force that lurks in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. A force that you must resist at all costs.”

And it was then that you realised what this longing was. This longing that you could not name.

“Father…” 

You wished to be defiled. To be ruined by a darkness that you could not see, could not touch, but could very well touch you. You wished for it to slither into your room in the dead of night, to use you, corrupt you, until your legs could not hold you up any longer.

“Let us pray,” the priest declared, and rustling sounded.

You bowed your head. 

“God the Father of mercies,” he began, “through the death and resurrection of His Son…”

Your breast heaved, and your breaths grew short and sharp as a heat bloomed within you. 

“...has reconciled the world to Himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins.”

Your hand crept from the bench to the lap of your gown, slowly and without your registering it.

“Through the ministry of the Chapel, may God give you pardon and peace.”

Your palm glided across your thigh and to your clothed crotch.

“I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father…”

Your breath caught as a lone finger swiped against your slit, and you repeated the motion to re-experience the blissful feeling.

“...and of the Son…”

You threw your head back as your fingers picked up pace.

“... and of the Holy Spirit.”

Distracted by the heavy breathing that he assumed was a result of weeping, the priest opened his eyes with concern and peered through the wooden partition, through a small hole, scarcely large enough for a finger.

Through that hole he saw you, a vision of sin, splayed across the bench with your legs spread and your mouth ajar like a harlot who knew no better. 

He knew it. He knew it well, then, that his fears had come to pass. You could not be saved, never, for you were-

“Amen,” you moaned. 

The priest closely watched as your eyes widened and your fingers slowed, and as you hastened to compose yourself, even though you thought none could see you.

You crossed your legs, concealing the dark stain on your gown’s crotch, before smoothing your hair and clearing your throat.

He caught only a fleeting glimpse of your expression as you straightened and looked up. Shock and astonishment did he see dancing in the depth of your gaze. As though in the midst of your passion, you had quite forgotten where you were, and your surroundings, and everything else besides.

Had you not known yourself? Were you unaware of your actions? Had you lost yourself in your rapture, the darkness so seductive? How easy it was to succumb!

When finally, you opened your mouth but could not speak, and so the priest said:

“And... I absolve you of your sins.” Though his voice shook, stricken with rage. "God has heard you! Go forth in peace.”

His stomach twisted, his mind blanking, his soul shrieking, cursing your damned whorish nature as you timidly murmured ‘thank you, Father’, and rose with the shuffling of fabric.

He could smell your arousal from even where he sat. It was a stench that filled the box, a poison that seeped into his nostrils. The urge to burst out and grab you by the hair in an unsolicited liaison became staggering as that rancid smell embedded itself onto the insides of his cheeks. Mercy, he could not wait to be rid of you.

He quickly drew the Sign of the Cross, his hand lingering on his right shoulder to ward off lingering evil. “You have confessed and sought forgiveness,” he grunted.

He gathered his belongings, a Bible and rosary, and prepared to leave. “As penance, you must recite ten Ave Marias, five Pater Nosters, and one Actus Contritionis.”

“Yes, Father.” 

You bowed your head and kept it low, lifting it only to exit the booth when you felt it shake with the momentum of being closed.

Only then, did you rise from the bench, your soaked underwear rubbing against your thighs, before you turned the latch on the weathered, wooden door. 

Once you emerged from the confessional, you were surprised to be met with a dim chapel. Just how much time had passed?

Your eyes flitted through the pews in search of another, only to realise the chapel was deserted, save for the priest whom you bared your soul to.

You looked for him then, head pivoting left and right until you caught sight of him upon the pulpit, blowing out the candles that adorned where he stood one by one. 

You strained your eyes trying to recognise who he was, following him in his graceful pursuit to each candle. It was only when he turned his profile that you recognised him. Father Levi. 

Warmth spread across your face as you recounted everything you confessed. 

In your yearning, you had hoped the confessor would be an elder figure, someone who you cared little for and someone certainly not the object of your desires.

Father Levi must have known that it was him you spoke of - that it was he whom you wished would take you. He had to have known.

The countless times he caught you gazing at him, fixating on the movement of his rosy lips, or that one instance when your gaze lingered a moment too long on his—

His eyes found yours over his shoulder, piercing through the shadows. You quickly averted your gaze to the floor. Christ, you thought, nibbling on your lips, had he caught you yet again?

With your head down, you scurried to the nearest pew and knelt, facing the altar. You shut your eyes and began to recite your prayers, your voice wavering slightly as your mind strayed to being alone with the mid-aged priest. He was so near - so within your reach, so alone. Was this fate?

On the fourth prayer, you heard a faint shuffling in front of you. Footsteps. But you ignored them. Alas, a cold hand on your shoulder is what drew you from your prayer, causing you to flinch.

“Be not afraid. Pray, go on,” Father Levi urged, his handsome face smiling down at you. You remained at his waist-level as you recited them.

But how could you go on with him standing right in front of you? All you had to do was move your head, the slightest of the slightest, and you’d be kissing the fabric over his groin. 

Through the veil of your eyelashes, you peered up at the priest, who regarded you with a stern expression - as though he heard every filthy word you’d just thought.

He frowned. “It is alright, my child. God rejoices in your penitence.”

You held his gaze as your prayer poured from your lips. 

After a while, his austere demeanour softened, surrendering to something less severe as you reached your seventh Ave Maria. Your breath hitched as he began to rub your shoulder.

“That is it, you’ve but three more.”

“Yes, Father,” you whispered breathily, relishing in the tender pressure of his thumb gliding along the curve of your neck.

With closed eyes, you surrendered to the caress, a moment of long-desired fulfilment. And with every completed prayer and every completed verse that emitted from your lips, his thumb climbed higher.

Father Levi thumbed the soft expanse of your throat, his eyes darkening as your pulse fluttered under his touch. You seemed so innocent, so pure, so chaste. But your actions belied that image; the things you had told him, the things you had revealed…

You tilted your head ever so slightly and your mouth parted. Through half-lidded eyes, you stared at him unabashed, your sultry lips appearing like a most obscene invitation. He could not hold your gaze.

Unable to endure your wantonness, he made the Sign of the Cross with his free hand.

Then, in an instant, his touch transformed, slender fingers encircling your throat with a sudden ferocity that left you gasping for breath.     “I know what you are,” he snarled, bending over so his angular face was mere inches above yours. 

“Father, what are you doing?”

You tried to free yourself from his vice-like grip, to rise to your feet and gain some advantage, but he was too strong, and he forced you back down onto your knees. With a wicked smile playing on his lips, he leaned closer to your ear.

“Did you take me for a fool, child? Did you think I would not notice how you have poisoned me? Tainted me?”

A shiver coursed through you as his breath brushed your cheek.

“Please, Father, have mercy,” you begged. “Whatever I have done, please have mercy.”

“Mercy? You do not know the meaning of mercy. You’ve never even seen her, spawn of Lucifer.”

“P-Pardon?”

In a tone that resonated with an otherworldly chill, he hissed, “Confess, child, for the devil has taken up residence within you. Your sins are a stench that even the hounds of hell recoil from.”

Then, fear gripped you tighter than Father Levi ever could. “Father, please, I am not what you think. I know not what you speak of!”

“You lie! I am not as weak as Adam. I shall not be so easily deceived by Satan and his marionette. For what other would be stirred by lust within the sacred sanctuary of a chapel, worse still, at the hands of a priest?"

“Father…please…”  You writhed against his hold. “Release me.”

“For 7,000 years our kind has been at war, and one such as you shall not be the cause of my corruption.” His free hand rose, fingers twisting into his dark hair. “I must root you out. Dig into your core. Take a chunk out of your heart.”

A wave of desperation tore through you at the sharp sound of his breathing, and you begged, “Please, Father. I am not your enemy. What can I do to prove my intentions to you? By God-”

“Do not speak of God!” he roared, spit flying from his lips. “Do not profane Him. Those who have sinned cannot speak His holy name.”

“Father-”

He cocked his head to the side, jaw clenching, the hollows of his cheeks stretching his skin taut. “Do not grovel, so. It is a pathetic sight. What worth is a demon if he is feeble?”

“So then I am no-”

The priest’s fingers dug deeper into your flesh. “Quiet with your nonsense,” was forced through clenched teeth. “I’ve grown tired of your excuses. You are but a demon, sent to tempt me, to test my faith, to make me fall.”

“Faith,” you breathed, the word a defiance, and you tried with all your might to steady the tremor in your voice, “is it so delicate that I, mere flesh and bone, could fracture it? Have you strayed so far that a mere nudge would send you plummeting?”

“Enough.”

“Is this the strength of your faith, Father?”

“Enough!”  he bellowed, releasing your throat and shoving you into the pew as if eager to relinquish you from his grasp. Like you were nothing more than vermin in his hold.

“You shall not make me falter. You shall not sow seeds of doubt within me, you cursed creature!”  His face twisted into something so uncharacteristically grotesque, marred with a rage so fierce it could cast angels from their heavenly perch.

With trembling hands, you instinctively sought your throat, quickly drawing in air that your lungs so desperately yearned for. Each breath a gasp that tasted of dust. Through your blurred vision, you could see Father Levi’s figure retreating.

“Father, where are you going?” you managed to croak.

“I am going to fetch the whip,” he said. “You need more than words to atone for your sins. You need agony. You need blood. You need God's wrath.”   You watched through lidded eyes as he ascended the steps to the pulpit and vanished behind the heavy drapery. You trembled against the cool floor and rasped the remaining of your ten Ave Marias. 

As you lay in your heap, something dawned upon you: You could have fled. You could have escaped and hidden within the refuge of your own abode. You could have condemned him. But instead, you remained, awaiting the lash upon your flesh.

Is this what you desired? Were you indeed…corrupted? A vessel for Satan? There was no other answer, for why else would you harbour such thoughts… and why else would your underwear be dripping?

You heard his footsteps echoing in the corridor, growing near’r and near’r, no doubt with the instrument of your punishment in hand.

You watched as he slowly descended the steps, brandishing a braided whip with a handle adorned with symbols of crosses and saints. The silver metal of the whip glinted in the dim candlelight as he held it aloft, but none shone brighter than his cruel smile.

He seized you by the hair and thrust your face into the cold floor where many had trodden, your arse high in the air. “Are you ready, child? Are you ready to feel the wrath of the Almighty?” he asked.

The flickering light from the remaining candles cast long shadows, gracing you with the ability to see his arm rise. You heard him murmur, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit...”

And then, you felt the whip strike your back, tearing your flesh, drawing forth a crimson tide. You screamed, a sound driven by sheer ecstasy, and he struck again. And again. And again.

You lost count of how many times he lashed you, how many times you cried out, how many times you begged for mercy only to appease to his iniquity.

“Oh, God!” you cried out at one point.

“How humorous. You are turning to the wrong Father for refuge. My God has forsaken you, little demon. He is unresponsive to your pleas.”

You buried your face into the crook of your sweaty arm, stifling a sob behind the prison of your teeth.

“Your resilience is admirable,” he snarled, his voice a low growl. “But futile. You are mine, little demon. And I will break you.”

As the whip found its mark on your arse again, the sting faint now, he fisted your hair and wrenched your head back to face the vaulted ceiling. “Now, tell me, just how did you do it? How did you poison me? How did you breach the sanctum of my mind?”

You parted your parched lips to answer, but he interrupted. “Do you comprehend the extent of the erection I endured tonight? No? Allow me to enlighten you, then. It hurt to sit. To think. All that consumed my thoughts was the desire to relieve myself within that confessional—” Your breath caught in your throat.

“—Which was unlike me. Unlike what I stand for…yet it was all I craved. I wanted nothing more than to pump my shaft until I had given my all. Until I was worn and spent upon that bench, and until you had finished in the room over.”

A strangled noise escaped your throat. He had seen you? 

“Yes, I saw you,” he admitted, a flicker of regret crossing his features as he realised his slip of the tongue. All he could do now was deflect. "Not only did I see you, but God saw you as well. Have you no sense of shame?”

Without thinking, you ground your hips back into his crotch, his bulge grazing against your clit. You both moaned before you could suppress it, and he quickly released your hair, his hand shifting to your hips.

“Sex-crazed beast. Sex-crazed demon.”

He ceased in his lashing, dropping the whip to the ground, and brought his newly freed hand to your other hip as you continued to grind against him. “You satisfy yourself during prayer and you satisfy yourself even now. Is that all that you are?”

“I told you, Father!” you moaned.

“You did,” he murmured, his grip growing tighter. “You did. You are a paradox. A sinner who revels in sin.”

“Yes!” 

“But when I am done with you, you shall become something holy.”

You only let out a whimper, one of which was laden with anticipation.

With your face still pressed against the floor, you shivered as the chill of the air unexpectedly met your skin as your gown rode up. It rose from your ankles to your knees, before the priest bunched it up over your waist.

“Your smell is so potent I can taste you on my tongue.” He hooked a finger around your underwear, slowly revealing your tight pussy to the chapel.

“You’re sodden,” he declared. “You’re filthy. It is only right that I, the vessel of sanctity, be the first to take you, to taste you, to fill you with my sacred essence to your brim.”

You licked your lips, salt coated in its cracks.  Your tongue lingered momentarily at the corner of your mouth, a fleeting contemplation. With all the desperation you could muster you whispered, “Purify me then, Father.”

The priest needed no more from you. He began to undo his cassock, slowly freeing each button as he watched your puffy pussy clench around nothing.

“Are you certain that you’re untouched?” he asked. 

“I am certain. I have allowed no other to touch me, Father. Pleasure has only been derived by my own hand.”

“And now, my own.”

Father Levi, with the speed of a starving man, unzipped his trousers and lowered his underwear, his cassock at his sides, before he freed his fat cock and held it in his hand. 

It was a burning red, far too long neglected, and bubbling with beads of precum at the tip. He rubbed his thumb across his slit before dragging it down his shaft, lubricating it before he’d press into you. For your sake.

“Try to still in your excitement, harlot,” he grunted as your hips swayed. As your bosom heaved. You reached an arm behind your back, fingers hoping to revel in the touch of another, but the priest swatted your limb away.

“We are not making love. Do not reach for me.”    His pale skin stretched taut over the hardness of his cock, the veins pulsing as he stroked himself with his calloused hands. He stole a glance upwards and feasted on the sight of you laid bare before him, his eyes round with greed. Oh, how you glistened in the candlelight.

He situated himself between your parted legs, leaning his weight forward against you. 

The warmth of his chest bore down upon you, his breath hot as it escaped his parted lips. He rubbed the tip of his cock against your folds, your pussy practically drooling, before he dragged it down to your opening and your thighs tightened around him.

“Father!” you panted, but it was not enough. Not for either of you. The feeling of him bare was enough to send you over the edge, but if you finished, then you knew there would be no more of this.

“Worry not, little sinner,” he rubbed your lower back with his thumb, “The pain shall only be brief.”

The priest spat on the crown of his cock, anointing himself. Then, without warning, he shoved his cock into your tight, virgin little cunt, a gravelly groan slipping past his lips at your warmth. He could hear a small wail from beneath him, from you, but it was muffled by the floor, by his breaths, and by the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Your cunt eagerly swallowed him, your walls gripping him so tightly that all the priest could do was groan. He relished in the pleasure of it all, his cock finally wrapped in the embrace of another, celibacy broken and ethics aside. Far aside. Granting him the freedom of animalistic grunts as he pumped in and out of you with a wild abandon.

But eventually, your pleasure gave way to pain and you let out a second wail. “Father, it hurts!” 

A virgin’s first is scarcely easy, so Levi paid little mind to your suffering. To the feeling of your hymen tearing around the tip of his cock as he slid against your walls.

Perhaps, he should’ve prepped you first — softened your impending agony. But you were a demon. Demons needed no sympathy. Demons needed no mercy.

Instead, he rutted his pelvis into your plentiful, supple backside and said, “Your screams are a symphony, a hymn to the fallen. Let your cries reach the ears of the devil, for even he shrinks at the price you pay for salvation."

“Yes, Father! Yes, Father,” you chanted, toes curling at the sweet agony of his fullness.

“Do you sense it?” The nails of his fingers pierced into the soft skin of your round hips, leaving crescent moons in their wake. “Do you sense the ebbing of the darkness?”

You only nodded.

His grip tightened, the coldness of his touch a stark contrast to the burgeoning warmth that spread throughout your being. With hasty hands he shoved the skirt of your gown to your shoulder blades. “That is the Lord’s will. With every thrust I draw out evil, and with every moan it escapes through your breaths. Yield to it, my child.”

“I am, Father. Make me clean. Make me sacred — something the Lord can cherish.”

He leaned over and licked the contours of the welts on your back, born from the numerous lashes you endured.

As you felt the warmth of his tongue against your even warmer skin, you mewled, and he pounded into you even harder, fucking you into the floor. “You shall be purified.” A shaky moan slipped past his lips, “Christ, you shall be purified.”

“Fuck, I…need you, Father Levi!” 

“You do need me. For whom else could save you?” A vulgar squelching echoed throughout the chapel, a product of your bodies and your pleasure.

“Only you, Father.” 

“Only I,” he affirmed. 

The priest watched with a slight frown as you took his cock, sucking it in with fervour and clenching around him until all he wanted to do was come inside of you. To fill your womb with him and watch as your stomach bloated. He was miserable.

Above all, he yearned to rub your swollen clit, to grasp your erect nipples, to fuck your mouth until his seed was all that remained. Until eventually, you’d have to swallow all of him. But he had to remind himself that this was not the pursuit of pleasure. That he could not act on his mortal impulses.

But as you writhed beneath him, your moans blessed to his ears and your juices dripping onto the floor, Levi felt that the Devil, too, might have made his mind his living-quarters.

“Stop that,” he whispered harshly, eyeing the sheen of your sweat, trying to focus on something else. 

“Ah-” you whimpered, your throat hoarse. “Stop what?”

“Tempting me.” 

“It is not by my will, Father. I do not know how to.” 

“It is by your will, vixen. Break the connection you have on my mind.” 

By now, your thighs had begun to burn and your knees began to ache. You couldn't hold yourself up any longer. But as your form began to collapse, the conflicted priest seized your hips tighter and rammed into you from an entirely new angle.

You let out a surprised cry. "Yes, Father! Fill me up."

Your words were met with a grunt. You could feel his cock twitching and pulsing, ready to burst. And you too, were ready. With a shaky arm, you weaved it beneath your torso in search of your clit. The lack of stimulation was almost too much to bear. 

But as your fingertips ghosted your mound, a mere stretch away, the priest caught your wrist in his grasp and pulled your arm back roughly.

“Look at you now. How can you claim to not be a demon and yet act as you do?”

“Father, you’re hurting me.”

“For the wages of sin is death. But the gift of God is eternal life. You will not rob that from me.” His eyes, twin pools of righteous fury, bore into you, unrelenting. “Your pleas for mercy are but the siren’s song of the damned.”

Releasing your arm, he seized your chin once more, his fingers clutching your face as if fearing you'd vanish before him. “Beg for forgiveness.”

When you said nothing, he pressed himself further into you, kissing your cervix. “Beg. Beg loud enough so that the angels above can thread through your words.”

“Father,” you began, your frustration getting the better of you. “Perhaps you are just weak.”

You heard a growl before a rough slap marked your arse. “I should just strangle you right here,” he hissed. 

“Then do it, Father,” you challenged, you begged, and the words cascaded from your tongue without a second thought. 

The priest pressed his nose to the back of your ear and drew in a sharp breath. For how long could he steel himself in his duty? “You are so…”

He dared not say more, afraid of what might come out. ‘Deliciously sinful’ died on his lips, and he exhaled softly as if to blow the remnants away.

He then rolled his hips against you, heavy balls, aching for release, slapping against your backside rhythmically as he needily whimpered in your ear.

He had lost control. You could feel it in the way he clung to you, in the way he fucked you, in the way he moaned. It may have begun with the intent of purification…but it morphed into something else. Something more vulnerable.

Such vulnerability, such honesty of the flesh…such deviance would require not only holy water, not only cleansing, not only the embrace of silence, but total extermination. He had tasted of the fruit of Eve, of Hell, and now there was no one who could absolve him.

The obscene, choppy whimpers and whines that leapt from his throat were all the noise he could manage — all the noise you could manage. The two of you, bound by your own sins, were unable to utter anything else. 

As you arched your back to feel more of him, his breathing grew irregular and curt, and a low, guttural groan was all the warning you received before the warmth of his seed splashed inside of you, coating your walls and dripping onto the floor.

You clenched around him, milking him for all he was worth as his thighs quivered and his nails split your skin. 

Through his haze, he leaned over and growled in your ear, voice tight, cock pulsing as he emptied everything into you. “And he that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh: the Lord shall have them in derision,"

He was referring to the damned, to you, before he added with a grunt, “and doeth his pleasure on them.”

Father Levi buried himself within you one last time, watching through half-lidded eyes as his seed spilled from your well-fucked cunt. His abdomen seized and his thoughts floated elsewhere, bliss flooding his senses, carrying him off somewhere far beyond, to a place he'd yet to be.

And with each tremor that coursed through his being, each throb of his cock, the priest spilt more and more of himself into you. It was...quite a lot, some of it dribbling down your leg with the consistency of his cum, painting your skin.

From where your faces were beside one another, you could not hold his gaze. Instead, you opted to breathe through your parted lips, focusing on the way the tip of his cock quivered inside of you, a ghost of a smile dancing along the corner of your mouth at the prospect of having sated him. 

And once all was said and done, Father Levi pulled out of you slowly, the curve of his tip dragging along your walls, parting from your folds with an almost sullen-like reluctance. His semen followed shortly after, oozing down his shaft and glistening against his bare skin, and he watched as it left you, thick and heavy. Levi was breathing raggedly, and his weight against you was bearable, until suddenly it was nothing.

He withdrew his hands from your hips, and as his touch relinquished its hold, your body crumbled to the unforgiving ground, spent and bereft of support. A pallor of exhaustion clung to your form as you lay there, chest heaving in tandem with the rugged breaths from behind you. 

You looked over your shoulder to see him kneeling above you, tucking himself into his pants. You then faced forward. “Is it done, Father?”

“It is done.”

The sudden heat of his palm burned your shoulder blade, and it was with a great sense of repulsion, a great sense of loathing that the priest gently ran his thumb along one of the welts, sending a light sensation down to your core, leaving you wondering, “Father?”

There was a lull in which only the crackling of the candles and a faint wind filtered through your ears. But then Father Levi stood to his full height, taking a step back, his cassock whispering as it fell back into place.

Without uttering a single word to you, he rounded the pews, reaching up to extinguish the last of the candles as he walked. All at once, he engulfed the room in darkness, leaving only the pale moonlight to illuminate your heaving form.

“Cleanse yourself and then depart,” came harshly from the priest, who began to head towards the entrance of the chapel, his feet dragging against the floorboards, the grooves from centuries worth of stepping echoing softly.

“But it is dark, Father,” you explained meekly.

He halted.

“Surely, you cannot mean for me to walk home in this darkness?”

“I cannot control the hands of fate. Not the hour and certainly not the dark.” He chided.

“You...you would abandon me, Father?”

His form was illuminated by the pale light outside, a mere silhouette now, an entity that was neither completely one of flesh and blood nor one of in-humanity. Something more ambiguous.

It was nearly impossible to distinguish between dark and light. Was it skin that hung from his bones, stretched from muscle? Or was it the clothes he wore that skewed everything, that marked the sins upon his figure, the stains of the day?

You shivered, curling in on yourself.

Perhaps it was both. Perhaps he was both.

Your fingers dragged across the marble floor; numb, paling, fingers curling into claws. But it was as though you did not possess such extremities. Your arm ached at the exertion, heavy and burdensome as you attempted to rise to your feet.

Meanwhile, the priest stood unmoving in the doorway. Merely leaning against its door frame as his palm lazed at the side, head bowed.

Perhaps he was trying to gather his thoughts, recollecting the entire hour that had long since been. His mind must have been racing, perhaps. Or perhaps it was sluggish and slow.

His breath was heavy against the silence, and it seemed that his lungs had decided to operate at maximum capacity despite his efforts to even them out, exhaling deeply.

“So it is done,” Levi reiterated, head turned so that you may not see the paleness in his face.

A gleam of perspiration still lingered and did not seem eager to leave any time soon. He wiped at the slight sheen and looked down at his clean palm, brows creasing.

“Dried already.” His murmur was for the wind only, but you caught every bit of it, heard every breath; from the sharp inhales to the soft curses, and it brought you a sense of fear.

The air held a thickness, you were aware, from the incense and the embers and the musk of bodies, but mostly from him—the perspiration. It pooled in the crevices of his skin, the nooks and folds and every pore that delved too deep. 

You rose unsteadily, grunting as a searing pain rippled through your abdomen and back. You winced and cupped the flesh, feeling the soreness.

But such thoughts of pain were fleeting when he decided he'd had enough of the air and your fidgeting, turning around to address you once more.

“If you fear the night then stay in the confession booth and reflect upon your deeds. For surely your demon will protect you.”

And then a gust of wind rushed in, the sheer force knocking what little was left of your dress downwards.

Your breasts peaked out from the fabric and your nipples perked due to the cold. And yet, despite the humiliation, and despite the filth, it felt good when Father Levi's eye flitted over you, longingly and with loathing.

From where he stood, far from where you were, the only thing in sight were the peaks of breasts, drenched in a film of perspiration and semen. He gripped the handle as his eyes landed on a bead of seed glistening on the skin above your bruised breast, and he exhaled shakily as he watched it run slowly downward.

It delved in the curve of the skin, and he felt something inside him prick with desire, a hunger pang, and his grip on the door threatened to bend the metal.

It was as if your skin was reaching out to him, beckoning him once again.

“Tsk,” his lip curled, and he spat the bitter taste in his mouth onto the floor. His face contorted in pure disgust.

He looked you straight in the eye. “The decision rests solely with you.”

“But Father…”

“But what? Is this not enough for you? The door is open, my child. Go, lest Satan returns to his infernal torment of my soul. 

“Torment?”

“For I am weak and powerless in his presence. As I was in yours.”

With a frown, he pushed through the door, shutting it with a resounding thud, severing the icy gusts of wind and leaving you alone in the chapel.

He would not succumb to temptation again.

[yeollie-plz]

Take You Back To Church

Priest! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Synopsis: You came to get forgiveness for your sins, the priest has some ideas on how you can do that.

Genre: smut

Warnings: religious talk, religion, religious themes, sacrilegious, cheating, infidelity, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral m! and f! receiving, spanking, pet names, degradation, choking, sex in a church, public sex, almost getting caught, hair pulling, if I believed in hell that's where I'd be going

Gif credits to owners!

♫ Church by Chase Atlantic ♫

"Bless me father, for I have sinned. It's been one week since my last confession." The partition between you and the other side of the confessional booth slides open, revealing the silhouette of the priest on the other side.

"Go on, my child." Knelt down in prayer, you glance up barely catching a glimpse of him, as his gruff voice sounds out.

You clear your throat, "I've been having thoughts about a married man, father." A shuffle is heard on the other side, almost like the priest is sitting up straighter.

"It's more than thoughts, actually. I've been having relations with a married man, father, and I can't seem to stop."

Another noise comes from the other side before the door is opening and he is throwing your side of the booth open. Looking down at you on your knees is Father Joel Miller, the married man you had just been talking about.

A few weeks ago you had come to the confessional to confess your sins and had met Joel. Who instead of forgiving your sins, gave you even more to confess.

You glance up at him through your eyelashes, lust blowing out your pupils. You almost make a motion to stand, before his hand is placed onto your shoulder and keeping you where you are.

"Stay on your knees, baby." He says before he's closing the door behind the two of you and unlatching his belt buckle. He's pushing his pants down quickly like you could disappear right out from under him.

Your mouth is open and waiting for him when he pushes his dick past your lips. All the way back, causing you to gag at the intrusion. He fucks into your mouth, gripping your hair roughly to aid in dragging your mouth onto him.

He keeps thrusting into your mouth, head tossed back at the feeling of using you. You stay on the floor, at his mercy. Knees bruising a bit from the rough wood flooring, but you don't seem to notice as your own pleasure drips down your thighs.

You know better than to touch yourself, but its getting harder and harder as his thrusts get rougher. You gag onto him again, causing him to groan. The sound and the way his knuckles are going white from gripping your hair so tightly, has you moving your hips trying to feel anything. He notices and strokes your face with the hand not in your hair, making a noise of annoyance at you.

"Don't even think about touching yourself." Is all he says before he thrusts into your mouth one last time, before pulling out. You look up at him confused, knowing he hasn't finished yet.

He grabs your chin and pulls you to your feet, attaching his lips to your already swollen ones. Kissing you for only a moment before he is bending you over the prayer bench and pushing your dress up past your hips. Ripping your panties off of you before attaching his mouth to your dripping pussy.

Licking a stripe up your tender folds, he grips your ass cheeks and spreads them, giving him complete access to your pussy. He licks you roughly, again like there is no time to waste. He brings a finger to your neglected clit, working it in time with his tongue.

You are already on the peak of your orgasm. Your hips push back into his mouth, trying to help yourself over the edge. This has him pulling away and flipping you over to face him. His eyes bore into you and only the dominance in his eyes has you cowering, knowing not to push your luck any further.

His lips return to your folds, tongue now focused on your clit, while he pushes two fingers in past your dripping center. His tongue fucks your bud in quick circles, while his two fingers curve inside of you stroking your g spot. You are brought back to your edge almost too quickly.

Just as your pussy is clenching onto his fingers and your orgasm is washing over you, the heavy doors of the church are opening and a few sets of footsteps are funneling inside. The fear of getting caught has him working you through your orgasm even rougher, fingers fucking into you harshly. His teeth bite down lightly onto your clit before pulling off of you.

Lips now finding yours as he is trying to silence your heavy breathing. He pulls his fingers slowly out of you as to not make you too oversensitive. Pulling away from you, he pulls his pants back up.

Glancing down he sees your panties in a bundle on the floor. Picking up the torn fabric, he gives them a quick sniff before shoving them in his pocket. Looking down at your flushed form, he strokes your hair soothingly, before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"We aren't done yet baby. Come to my office at 6, want that pretty mouth back on me." He says before he's leaving you a mess in the booth.

6 o'clock on the dot, you find yourself sauntering down the halls of the back offices of the church. You went home, calmed yourself down, and cleaned yourself up a bit before returning to the silence of the old building. Deciding against putting new panties on.

Almost as soon as your knuckles find contact onto the door of Joel's office, the door is whipped open and he is pulling you inside. His lips find yours quickly and hands are ghosting up your legs, goosebumps raising in there stead.

When his fingers find contact with your bare cunt, he is smiling into the kiss. He mutters a, "good girl" into your lips, before his hands reach under your thighs and lift you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

He keeps his lips on your feverishly, tongue slipping into your mouth. Walking the two of your over to his desk and placing you onto it. Bare ass exposed to the cool wood. His lips detach from yours and he's glancing down at his watch.

"You were almost late." He says, mouth inches from yours, torturing you.

"By only a minute...please." The last part comes out as more of a whimper than you intended, but it conveys your need.

"Tell me what you need, my child." His eyes darken as they read yours. Its almost laughable how much he got off on the whole power dynamic of this all.

"Just need you, father. Show me how to be forgiven for my sins." He chuckles and returns his mouth to yours. Kissing you deeply for a moment before breaking it and getting down to his knees.

For the second time today he is lifting your dress up past your hips and attaching his mouth to your pussy. And for the second time today your pussy is completely drenched for him without him even having to do much. He could look at you and you'd be soaked.

Unlike earlier, though, he is licking at your folds a bit slower. Taking his time, knowing that now there was really no way for the two of you to interrupted. He works your bud in slow circles, the motions causing your hips to jerk into his mouth, somehow still sensitive from earlier.

This time he doesn't stop you and lets your body just feel the pleasure. A bit of is dominance has faded with the passing time of the day but you know that soon he will be fucking you like his life depends on it.

He licks you for a bit, letting your body get ready for him. The action of giving you pleasure, also getting him harder by the second. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been hurting from his blue balls earlier.

When he decides you have had enough, he returns to his feet and kisses you once before pulling you by your hips off of his desk. He walks you over to his desk chair and sits down before patting his lap. You follow the instructions and straddle him, you lean forward trying to catch his lips with your own. But he holds up a finger against your lips, pushing it in past the warmth. You swirl your tongue around it a few times.

Pulling out his finger he brings it between your thighs and pushes it past your walls. Fucking you quickly with his index finger, knowing that only one finger was not enough for you. But now he was teasing you.

He works the finger in and out of you, the feeling of his rough digit causing you to writhe on top of him. A moan escapes your lips, the first one you've let out all day.

"There she is." Joel says before he's pulling his finger out of you and gripping under your ass. He lifts you off of him and flips you over. Pushing you down flat onto his desk.

One hand stays on the back of your head, keeping you from glancing at him as he unbuckles his belt. The fabric of his underwear and pants pool at his feet. He grunts as he works his dick twice before swiping the tip onto your folds, gathering the wetness.

The action causes you to let out a whimper and this is all he needs to hear before he is pushing his dick fully inside of you. The stretch barely noticeable with all the prep that you have had to endure today.

He groans at your warmth and tosses his head back, reveling in it for just a second. When he recovers he is fucking into you quickly. The blue balls from earlier are catching up with him. All focus on you is now thrown out the window, all he needs is his release.

His hands fiddles around at your neck. His hot fingertips trying to find purchase of anything, finally finding your cross necklace. Fingers grip the thin chain as he pulls it back, the cool metal choking you.

Hips thrust into yours, all that is heard is skin on skin, and your little moans. The hand that isn't gripping your necklace is digging into your hips, probably leaving bruises there.

He grunts, "It's been too long since you've came to see me."

With how much he is holding you down, there isn't much movement that you can make. But you do move your neck slightly trying to look at him. Instead you make eye contact with the pictures on his desk. One is a picture of him and his daughter, identical smiles shining on their faces. The other is his wife on their wedding day, her white dress almost blinding.

You gulp and close your eyes, "Don't wanna get caught, do we." A pang of guilt hits your heart, but this moment is quite literally fucked out of your mind when he lifts your hips and thrusts into you at a new angle.

His arm is wrapped under your waist holding you up, the other is still gripping your necklace. Its almost as if he noticed what you had been looking at because he is now spearing you with his cock, like he's on a mission. A mission to make you forget. A mission to make you cum with him.

And it works because you are clenching onto his cock, warning of you oncoming orgasm. You know he is close too, with the way his hips stutter ever so slightly.

"Cum for me." Is all he has to say before you are thrown over your edge. Vision blurring as he fucks you through your peak.

You've barely come down from your high when he is pulling out of you. You whimper at the loss, still not being able to turn and look at him with the grip he has on your necklace.

His own hand works his dick, chasing that orgasm he denied himself of earlier. The hand on your necklace pulls back harder as he reaches his own orgasm. Ropes of cum paint your thighs and ass as the chain of your necklace finally snaps, cross clattering to the desk under you.

When he finishes he is leaning his body over yours, trapping you to the wood. He licks your earlobe before biting onto it lightly. He gets off of you, letting you finally turn and look at him.

You pick up your broken necklace from the desk and hold it up to him. Your head cocks in question. He lets out a chuckle, before taking it from your hands.

He places a kiss on your forehead, "I'll fix it."

[little-diable]

Our sinful secrets - Priest!Loki (smut)

Y’all voted for priest!Loki, so here we go. This is super filthy, as a warning. Please like and reblog, if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Priest Laufeyson went with the reader’s father to war, returning with him years later. Many things have changed over the years, just like the reader has, finally all grown up and ready to sin with the handsome priest.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, oral (m), age gap, secret relationship, loss of virginity, religious connotations, power play

Pairing: priest!Loki x fem!reader (4k words)

“Stop fidgeting, (y/n).” Her mother’s sharp voice rang through the afternoon, forcing (y/n) to stand still. She had been shifting her weight from one foot to the other, eyes focused on the end of the street their house had been built on. Her heart was racing, fingers interlaced in front of her waist in order to stop them from moving around with her nervousness filing her veins.

“When do you think–” the rest of her sentence was left unspoken as (y/n)’s eyes found a black car turning into their street, driving towards their house. A cry left her mother as the car came to a halt in front of their house, exposing the man the two hadn’t seen in years.

(Y/n) stumbled down the stairs with tears rolling down her cheeks, her mother hot on her heels. Before either one of them could speak another word (y/n) had flung herself into her father’s open arms, pressing herself as close to him as humanly possible. Her mother followed her movements, pushing herself closer to him with cries leaving her.

“How I missed you two.” The all too familiar voice of her father left (y/n) chuckling with glee, finally stepping away as someone cleared their throat, forcing all eyes to snap towards him. A man with black hair stood a few steps away from them, smiling at the two women whose eyes flickered between the ones of (y/n)’s father and the ones of the stranger.

“Girls, do you remember Priest Laufeyson? I invited him to stay with us for a few weeks, at least as long as the wounded soldiers are still taking up the church rooms.” The handsome man stepped closer, allowing (y/n)’s eyes to wander up and down his frame. Fuck, had he always been this handsome? (Y/n) couldn’t remember much about the man who had joined her father at war, giving those in need a guiding hand, taking their pain and sorrows from them.

“Of course we do, what a joy to see you, Priest Laufeyson! A man of God is always welcomed to stay with us!” (Y/n)’s mother wrapped her arms around the priest, pulling him in for a loving embrace before she searched the closeness of her husband again. “Please, come inside, we’ve prepared some food!”

“Oh please, Loki is just fine, Anne! Thank you so much for welcoming me into your home.” His voice shot shudders down (y/n)’s spine, leaving her choking on the improper thoughts filling her mind as her gaze found the cross dangling from his neck. (Y/n) could almost imagine it hitting her chin as he fucked her, how she’d gasp whenever she’d get to trace the cool metal with her curious fingers.

“It’s good to see you again, (y/n), do you still remember me?” It took her a few seconds to reply, trying to wet her all too dry mouth.

“Uhm, yeah, I think so?” He couldn’t help but laugh at the words rolling off her tongue, forcing a smile to widen on her lips as she followed her parents inside. (Y/n) could feel his eyes on her, studying her every move as if he was all too aware of the thoughts racing through her mind. She tried to wreck her mind for any memories, days where their paths have crossed, but all (y/n) could now focus on was the burning fire simmering deep inside of her, about to take over like the waves of the roaring ocean had taken over God’s first try to create this very world.

“Please, sit, (y/n) will help me bring out what we need.” A sigh threatened to leave (y/n) as she followed her mother into the kitchen, not daring to look back in fear that the handsome priest was still looking at her, forcing her knees to give out. (Y/n) didn’t speak a word as she kept carrying different plates and bowls filled with food out into the dining room, catching a glimpse of the man’s neck as he undid his collar, placing it down on the table with his rosary following moments later.

“Mhm, look at you pet, I should paint you, naked with just my rosary on.” Heat flushed through her as she looked up at the man. She was kneeling in front of him, naked without any clothes on to hide the body he had claimed numerous times before. His marks littered her skin, marks from his teeth, his lips, and his fingers, marks (y/n) never wanted to get rid of. “I can’t wait to feel your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, but first, you shall read to me.”

Trembling fingers grasped the bible he reached out for her to take, glassy eyes struggling to take in the words that had been printed into the thin paper. His hands began to move, slowly popping open the buttons of his black shirt, exposing his muscular upper body to her wide eyes. No air was sucked into her lungs as (y/n) averted her gaze, desperately trying to concentrate on the psalms he wanted her to read.

“Are you alright, (y/n)?” Her father’s voice ripped her out of her thoughts, trying to bite down the heat that now flushed through her. Without even trying to do so her eyes found Loki’s, the smirking man was already staring at her, as if he knew just what she had been thinking of. A small “Yes” left her before she sat down next to her mother, across from the grinning priest, whose eyes kept meeting hers like a moth drawn to any source of light.

“Why don’t you pray for us, Loki?”

……

“I didn’t take you for an early riser, (y/n).” His voice was softer than any fabric she had ever touched, eyes threatening to flutter shut to relish in the emotions he pushed through her system. She turned towards him, staring up at the priest who smirked at her, one hand holding onto a cup of coffee, the other grasping his bible. “May I?”

All (y/n) could do was nod her head, watching him sink down on the cold wood leading up to the entrance of their house. It was still early, barely any people were roaming the area, nothing but the all too familiar quietness (y/n) had learned to appreciate after being forced to prepare for bomb raids, not adjusting well to the sensory overload.

“Can I ask you something?” Her small voice broke the quietness, coaxing a hum out of the man who kept watching her, studying the woman as if he was a book written in a foreign language, needing to figure out its meaning.

“What did you do at war? Did you pray with soldiers?” He took a sip of his coffee before he placed it down, body fully turning towards (y/n). Their eyes met just like they had moments ago, forcing her to straighten her posture, not wanting him to ever avert his gaze again. She could almost feel his hands on her skin, how his thumb would stroke over her swollen lips before he’d push his digit down on her tongue, preparing her for his cock. Fuck, she needed to snap out of these daydreams of hers, quickly.

“I did, I prayed with those that were close to dying, with those in need of a guiding hand. Whoever needed a calm word, I was there for it all.” A proud smile tugged on Loki’s lips as he reminisced in the memories, making (y/n) hum in approval. She had always been intrigued by religion, by God, and by the holy book, even though she wasn’t nearly as religious as her mother. “If you want to, you could join me when I visit the church today.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.” (Y/n) averted her gaze, eyes finding her hands, watching how she fumbled with the fabric of her dress. Before she could even catch up with his movements, the priest had softly grasped her chin, touching her as if she was the holy book itself, careful not to hurt her. He tilted her head up, forcing (y/n) to get lost in his piercing eyes.

“I’d be an honour to have you there with me, I’m sure you’d be a joy to have around for those that are still struggling as well. Please, join me, (y/n).” Her cheeks grew warmer by the second, eyes struggling to hold contact. No man had ever managed to hold such a power over her, forcing her to back down from any fight she’d gladly take on.

“It’s been a while since I’ve stepped foot into a church, if I’m honest.” Her voice wavered, teeth buried in her lower lip. His chuckles had an addictive touch to them, forcing a few soft chuckles out of (y/n).

“Well, it’s been a while for me too, love. You have nothing to worry about.”

……

(Y/n)’s eyes didn’t know where to look first, at the wounded soldiers pacing around the quiet hallways, at the altar that pictured Christ and the heavy wooden cross he had once carried, or at the white collar that was wrapped around Loki’s throat. He guided her, hand placed on her lower back, murmuring soft words to her, explaining to her who was who and how some of these people have ended up here.

“How do you know all of this? I thought you hadn’t been here since the war had started?” Both were sitting on a wooden bench, eyes focused on the cross, watching the sunlight break through the colourful glass windows. It felt as if God himself was speaking to the two, with the dancing sunrays telling a story of love, of lust, of heartbreak.

“The nuns around here mailed me enough letters to keep me updated, they told me about those that were brought here, those that died, who I should pray for with them from afar.” Her eyes were drawn to his fingers, watching his digits fumble with the beads of his rosary, focusing on the silent prayers he should speak.

“I admire that, it must have been hard to be so far away. I missed my father every day, but I can’t even begin to imagine how it must feel to miss your home, your church, and those that work with you in God’s name.” Loki’s hand found her knee, slowly stroking the fabric of her see through tights. Goosebumps rose on her skin, body trembling from the soft touch that felt as if the holy spirit itself was guiding the priest.

“It was hard, but I was surrounded by people who gave me enough strength, like your father. I owe him a lot for his kindness, and yet here I am, betraying him.” The last part of his sentence was whispered, quiet words that left (y/n) frozen, wondering what the priest was talking about. He drew his hand from her knee, finding its way back to his lap, to the rosary that dangled from his other hand.

Once again (y/n) found herself dreaming of laying close to the man, she could almost feel his soft fingertips stroking up her spine, drawing shapes into her skin as if he was writing words into the body he had claimed the night prior. God, she’d burn in the eternal fire for her sins, but (y/n) couldn’t care less about what may await her, couldn’t worry about the punishment for her sins, all she could care about was Loki, the priest she found herself longing for.

……

“You like this spot, don’t you?” His voice ripped her out of her thoughts, eyes fluttering up from her book to look at Loki. The sun was just about to go down, drenching the sky in a deep orange that left a shadow on his features, making him appear like a demon crawling from the ashes rather than a man walking with God’s grace guiding him.

“It’s so calm out here, I enjoy it more than the thin walls in our home that don’t seem to swallow whispers and conversations I’m no part of.” Slowly she closed her book, letting it rest on her lap as she kept tracing the worn out edges with her fingertips, waiting for him to move closer.

“Well, I don’t want to disturb your peace.” Priest Laufeyson turned from her, about to walk back inside, but the small “Stay, please” rolling off (y/n)’s tongue left him halting in his step, turning back towards her to sit down on the spot he had sat on this very morning.

“Can I ask you for your guidance?” All he did was nod his head, asking her to speak on without using any words for her ears to pick up. He watched her, watched how she furrowed her eyebrows, how she grazed her lower lip with her teeth, her nervousness thumped through her system, leaving (y/n) trembling.

“Is it wrong of me to want something I should have no interest in having?” (Y/n) avoided his eyes, not daring to get lost in the pupils that have seen more darkness than a woman like her could even dare to think of. His hand found hers, squeezing her palm in a comforting manner.

“It depends on what it is you desire. Tell me, what is it you so desperately want, (y/n)?” The longer he spoke, the quieter his voice grew, eyes turning darker with every word he spoke. Both knew that they were walking a dangerous line, crossing a border far deeper than the trenches the soldiers had been forced to hide in as they fought for their country, surrounded by soil so rotten and dark, no living being could escape death’s cold grasp.

“Priest Laufeyson, I-” no further word managed to roll off her tongue, nothing but a breath of air managed to leave her as their eyes met. Both moved slowly, chasing their touches even though both knew that there was no going back once their lips met. It was a slow kiss, it had something almost loving to it, allowing the two to adjust to the new sensation.

“You’re testing me, sweet thing. It feels as if God is trying to see how loyal I am to him. But how can I deny such a sweet temptation?” His words forced a soft laugh out of (y/n), pulling away from him to watch the setting sun with her racing mind. Without speaking another word, his hand found her chin, making her look at him so that he could chase her lips again. Both found themselves longing for one another, they have tasted the sweet temptation, have given into Lucifer’s call, there was no escaping from the hell they now called their home.

“(Y/n)? Is Loki with you? We are about to have dinner.” Her mother’s voice echoed through the evening, forcing them to part with wide eyes and heavy breaths ripping through them. Their lips were swollen, pupils dilated from the lust swimming in them, a sight so sinful even God would turn away from them. Loki cupped her hand, thumb swiping over her lower lip like he had done in most of her daydreams, forcing heat to pool between her thighs.

“I’ll come to your room tonight, leave your door unlocked, if you want to wait up for me.” And with one last glance thrown her way, Priest Laufeyson disappeared inside the house, leaving (y/n) behind with a confused, hazy mind.

……

“Shh, you have to be quiet pet.” His voice broke through the dark night as he pulled her into his embrace, pushing (y/n) against the now locked door of her room. Their lips found back together, eyes fluttering close to relish in one another’s touch, making them feel as if the world had stopped spinning.

“You’re the sweetest temptation He has ever sent my way, I’ll happily sin if it means getting a taste of you.” (Y/n) couldn’t stop her moans from rolling off her tongue, spurred on by his praises. No clear thought managed to break through the hazy cloud of lust filling her mind, forcing (y/n) to rely on his guidance, like a lone sheep lost from the flock He guided.

With their lips still pressed together, Loki pulled her towards her bed, pushing (y/n) down on the mattress. His knees kept pressing against the edge of the bed, allowing him to stare down on her as his slender fingers began working on his black dress shirt, falling to the ground with his collar following. (Y/n)’s eyes ranked over his naked upper body, sight caught on the cross dangling from his neck, reminding her of the daydreams that have left her heart racing and her thighs quivering.

“Take off your dress for me, let me see you.” She couldn’t stop shaking as she pulled her dress over her head, exposing her underwear to the man’s curious eyes. Almost as bare as Christ on the day of his crucifixion did (y/n) kneel for him, knees pressing into the soft blanket of hers. His fingers danced along her arms, finding the straps of her white bra to pull them down her shoulders, undoing the piece of fabric to let it fall to the ground. “Such a pretty sight, may He forgive me for tainting a pure body and soul like yours.”

“Can I touch you? Please, I want to feel you.” Her quiet whispers filled her room like a prayer spoken in an empty church, echoing through the hallways. Loki kept studying her, hand resting comfortably against her cheek and jaw before he nodded his head, stepping out of his trousers. His raven dark hair perfectly framed his features, reminding her of a demon that had crawled straight from hell, one with the darkness of its home, one with the sins it commits on a daily basis.

His hand found hers, guiding her towards his growing bulge, cock pressing against the thin fabric of his underwear. (Y/n) had her eyes focused on his hands, watching him free his cock, allowing her to marvel at him as he shot her an encouraging smile. Not once had she touched a man before, and yet (y/n) found herself grateful for the books she had read, stories no woman should ever read, and yet her curiosity had spurred her on. She trusted her instincts, softly wrapping her hands around his cock.

“Use your mouth, pet.” She hesitated for a second before her eyes fluttered up to meet his. Slowly (y/n) parted her lips, tongue stroking over his precum-bearded tip, moaning at the taste. The priest’s hand found her hair, guiding the slow bobbing motion of her head, groaning whenever she choked on his cock, too eager for her own good. Saliva dripped from her mouth, making a mess neither (y/n) nor Loki could care about.

Both knew that they were sinning, breaking a promise they have once sworn to live by, and yet sinning has never felt this good. Their bodies moulded together, perfectly complementing one another like lovers made to love, to support, to guide. An unbreakable bond started to form between these two beings who shouldn’t do the things lovers did in the dark.

“Fuck, feels like you’re holy, you’re too good for me, but I can’t get enough of you.” Loki’s words made her want to smile, struggling to move the corners of her mouth, stretched by his heavy girth. Whenever he twitched in her mouth, an unfamiliar spark was shot down her spine, making more arousal pool between thighs. Their eyes met as he jerked his hips, forcing her to claw her fingernails into his thighs, holding on as he abused her mouth.

Jesus had died for their sins, but not for sins this devilish, for acts so dark, for acts so wrong, for acts that made them both want to leave their belief behind, following the call of darkness.

“I want to fuck your mouth full of my cum, but for now I need to feel your cunt around me.” With a harsh tug (y/n) was turned around on her bed, face pressed against the covers that haven’t ever been blemished with what the priest was now doing to her. She trembled, needing to hold onto the soft fabric as her nervousness got the best of her.

This was new to her, completely new, but (y/n) trusted the man, laying her fate in his holy hands. She felt his fingertips graze the back of her thighs, pulling her soaked panties down her legs, letting the cold air lingering in her dark room clash against her dripping cunt.

“Deep breaths for me, love, I got you, let me take care of you.” A moan bubbled out of (y/n), eyes squeezed shut as she felt the tip of his cock brush through her folds, slowly spreading them. With one last shaky breath inhaled into her lungs, (y/n) forced herself to relax, allowing him to push into her cunt.!

For a few seconds neither of them dared to move, while (y/n) tried to swallow down the unfamiliar stretch, Loki had to force himself to calm down, not daring to hurt her with rough thrusts that would leave her crying and begging for him to stop. His fingers danced up and down her sides, stroking soft patterns into her skin till he felt her relax once again.

The priest started with slow thrusts, giving the both of them the chance to adjust, to get to know one another’s body. The cross dangling from his neck clashed against his front with every thrust, leaving God shaking up above, covering his eyes as one of his most trusted men went against his every law. But she was worth breaking them all, was worth the heaviest sin.

“Tell me, love, how does it feel? Talk to me.” She tilted her head to the side, warm cheek pressed against the covers to give herself enough space to speak up. Her voice trembled, just like her body, and yet her words dripped with lust, telling the priest everything he needed to know.

“So good, never stop touching me, please Loki.”

A sharp breath was inhaled into his lungs as he clicked his tongue, tightening his grip on her hips.

“That’s not how you shall address me, you know better, pet, don’t you?” His voice had an unfamiliar touch to it, leaving her heart racing and her cunt clenching around his cock. It took her a few moments to speak up, eyes squeezed shut to try and find the right words he asked her to speak.

“I’m sorry, father.” Her teeth were forced into her swollen lower lip, leaving marks he’d soon kiss with his tongue, swiping along the soft skin. A satisfied hum left him, grinning down on the woman he kept fucking with thrusts that kept growing rougher with every passing second. No longer was he holding back, no longer was he trying to be gentle with her, chasing his release.

Loki could tell that she was close, about to let go for the first time with a man around, for the first time with a cock buried inside her tightness. (Y/n) had to force herself to remain quiet, not daring to wake her parents, not daring to let them in on the secret that would lay heavy on their hearts.

„You can let go, give in, love.” With another moan leaving her, (y/n) gave in, eyes rolling back into her head, hands tightening their grip on the covers. He fucked her through her high, leaving marks on her as he kept holding on, pulling out of her to release himself on her behind and thighs.

“Here, let me clean you up.” Loki let go of her, moving slowly to reach for some tissues, gently cleaning her up. No words were spoken, guided by their tiredness. She turned towards the grinning priest, chuckling as his lips met hers in a soft kiss. With his hand cupping her cheek, he looked down on her for a few more seconds before he let go of her, “This has to be our sinful secret, I’ll expect you in the confessional tomorrow morning, love.”

[buttonsfleas]

KINKTOBER 23

Father Bryce x reader "Maria"

Day 4

Me and my friends were in trouble for skipping biology class. We all had to go into Father Bryce's office, one by one and I was last.

"Meet us when you get out in our dorms." My friend "olivia" told me.

I hated Father Bryce and I had my reasons for it. I was a regular student of his who got in trouble. Almost every week I would be in his office.

I walked into his office and sat on the left chair that faces his desk after closing the door.

"Maria...my least favourite trouble maker. Did you prompt this upon your friends?" He said as he was leaning down with his face a few inches from mine and his hands on the table for support.

I just nodded.

"Speak to me. Now." He said sternly. I'm probably the #1 person who he sees in his office...should I get a reward for that? I haven't yet, so probably not.

"Yeah, sir." I said quietly.

"Sir? Sir!? SIR!?"

"Ma'am, actually." I said, trying to be a smart ass.

"Don't try and be a smart ass with me or I will put you in a whole world of hurt." He said coldly.

I stood up and looked in his eyes, having the same fury building up inside of me like he has every time he has to deal with me and said "then why don't 'cha, huh!?" I said sternly.

He stood still, locking eyes with me a moment before pushing my face on his desk and then standing behind me with his muscular frame towering over my ass. He lifted my skirt up and caressed my ass, making you whimper for him.

"You wanna play? Let's fucking play." He said and then rubbed his hard member in his pants on my body, groaning with each buck his hips made.

He then pulled down my wet snd horny panties, stroking his entrance into me and then taking his cock out and fucking me roughly without a condom, and mercy.

"You're such a slut for me, aren't you? You wanna be fucked by your god damn priest all the time for your satisfaction, don't'cha!? Huh!? You fucking don't like it now, do ya!?" He said things like this to me as if i was a bad dog and he just gets his satisfaction by fucking me until I was gone.

His balls slapped on my pussy lips and his cock, our bodied made wet, slapping noises and loud groans and whimpers that showed how much we needed eachother. Our bodies were hot and horny from what was happening and I realised how much he wanted this. He needed this. I couldn't belive I was doing this with my own priest. Its like if I were in a fever dream.

His cock became more hard and he was fucking me roughly and then I needed more from him, I needed to have what he wanted from me, his child. His cock felt like it was going to explode and then he finally did it. My priest and head teacher cummed inside of me.

He took his cock out and then pulled my panties and skirt up and gave me a few kisses on my neck.

"Mmmhhh...you're my good girl. My girl." He whispered softly to me as I sat on his lap as he sat in his desk-chair and he wrapped his arm around my waist whilst removing all of the detentions I had that month.

[sephirothsplaything]

𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊

A Midnight Mass Fanfic

PARING: BLACK OC X PRIEST JOHN/PAUL HILL

TW: Dark themes, Sacrilegious, sexual themes, overall freakydeakyism, heavy religious trauma, obsessive themes, actually triggering

❝ɢᴏᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴡᴀʏꜱ .❝

❝ ʜᴏʟʏ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ, ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴏ ꜱɪᴄᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ.❝

𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄. A woman looking for a life completely opposite to her own. Something foreign to what she had previously known--- To be free from it all.

𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐔𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋. A servant of the highest calling. His job is to simply fulfill the will of God. He will change her. He will

【Ｈｕｎｇｒｙ　Ｗｏｒｋ】

P A R T O N E - GENESIS

chapter one- begin again

[winterzsurprise]

Unholy || Karl Jacobs

Pairing: Karl Jacobs x fem! Reader

Summary: To be a priest meant your loyalty shall rest with the lord and Karl would be a lying if he said he wouldn't want to lie with you instead.

Words: 6.4k

Tags: Overstimulation, priest! Karl, switch!Karl (he whines and comes first does that count?), porn without plot, rough sex, floor sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, priest kink, religious kink (i guess), cursing, dirty talk, name calling.

This is a fucking mess because I forced this one during my biggest writer's block but HEY ITS FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED AFTER MONTHS. I'll go fix the mess later on, I am ready to pass out.

As always, constructive criticism is welcomed. I would like to hear what I should change and what not :DD

Archive

---------

The nights where the wind howled against the corners of the church are always the most insufferable nights, Karl observed. 

It’s always when drunken men or sobbing women approach the building with their sins sitting at the edge of their tongue, ready to spew their darkest secrets to the man sitting behind the thin plywood wall.

It's amazing how confident they are in confessing their sins just because their faces are obstructed from his vision.

It was always their disloyalty, either a far-away admiration situation or a recurring event of waking up in another’s arms and another room. It’s something Karl could never fathom how it happens. 

They marry one another in front of the lord with pledges of love and protection then seek a different tongue in a few years.

Not that he could say much in the matter as he has never experienced such a thing, otherwise he’d be excommunicated.

But one thing’s for sure, his heart, although holds no one else but the lord in the heavens, still beats and skips in his chest every once and a while, either for his favourite food on the table or at the sight of you.

Karl barely knows anything about you, other than your frequent visits to the church to help the nuns with the garden and looking over the children at the orphanage and the fact that you just moved into the small town of Kinoko.

It was amazing how despite knowing so little about you, his heart still stuttered in its cage whenever you greeted him with a wide smile, waving so sweetly, he thought you could make a miss universe cry with how graceful and attention grabbing you are without effort 

It’s a simple connection between a priest and a citizen yet he swears whenever you sway your hips whenever you pass by him or move away your hair to show him your neck, you were offering yourself to him.

Your vanilla scent tantalises him, taunting his bound hands to break free and swallow you whole. He had never thought how a sweet scent could elicit such an emotion until then.

Karl can’t even remember the last night he had where he had to fight of his desires apparent by the uncomfortable tent in his pants, nor can he recall the moments where his head steers clear of its imaginative state that’s mostly composed of him snapping and bending you on the nearest elevated surface to see your face crumple into an expression of pure pleasure.

As much as he imagined taking you gently in your bed like the gentleman he appeared to be, there’s an insatiable beast in the prowl who'd love nothing but eat you through and through leaving nothing, not even a piece of your bone, until your scent and taste has ingrained itself to his head and tongue in his waking and resting state.

It was a morbid thought a person like him shouldn’t have but his feelings are far tamer than what his mind lets on, still they remind him of the sinner he once was.

A man who lust over someone, whose hands became more tainted and occupied with every day passing with her growing closer to him.

He's no different from the others he swore to never turn into, the only difference was the cassock he wears, a sign of his affiliation with a religion while the others wore casual clothes.

Would you run if you ever saw the foul, revolting scenes his mind conjured for him at the deepest of nights when sleep felt like a tedious task and your smile taunting his very being?

Today was unfortunately one of those nights he dreaded yet welcomed so warmly like a friend, the stings of the chilly night on his cheeks is the only thing grounding him. The silence in the chapel is torturous, enough to make him wish for the usual boring confessions from the town folks.

Until the double doors creaked open and came calmed footsteps approaching the booth, it sounded nervous and jittery, making him wonder if this person's confession is more than adultery or lying.

Karl couldn't help but be hopeful that it'll be a different topic tonight.

He still wouldn't mind Susan telling him of her recent adventures with her neighbour's husband or John sluggishly recalling his latest fuck after work when his wife is worried sick for him at home.

It's not like he could even interfere with their lives. The last thing Karl wanted is being incorporated into a drama.

Upon hearing the person take a seat, he starts. "Good evening, what brought you to this seat, my child?"

There was a beat of hesitance that hung between them, heavy and tense, like the weight of this person’s sin on their shoulder. Maybe this night will truly be different. 

"Father, I have sinned."

Karl's heart fluttered in his chest, cheeks heating upon realising who the person sat on the other side. What kind of atrocity have you done? Maybe this secret of yours might repel him, straighten him up, wake him up from his daze.

He cleared his throat, deepening his voice. "How so? Tell me so I can pray your sins away."

There was a long pause that followed, Karl thought you fluttered away in your nervousness but soon, you spoke once more.

"I lust for someone and I don't know how to act upon it..."

Never have his heart fall to his feet faster than when he heard your whisper, an angry blob rearing its ugly head at the back of his mind, his stomach churning uncomfortably as his mind raced with thoughts of inquiring you more about this intense affection you feel for someone.

Just the thought of this someone he doesn’t know lingering in your mind, making your heart race… His blood boiled vehemently in his core, lighting up a faint pain in his chest as they circulated around his body.

The stretched stagnant silence between them was broken by your sigh as you continued your tale, Karl couldn’t be more thankful that you did, fearing the words that might escape his mouth will scare you off for good.

“I’ve only been in Kinoko for two months now but never have I ever fallen for someone as fast as I did for him.”

Your voice trembled, not only in nervousness but also a hint of shyness, the same tone when people are sheepish and blushing when they introduce their crush to a friend. His jaw clenched, his fists turning white and his nails digging straight into his skin, itching to drive itself to the nearest solid item near him but he knew he had to keep his composure.

He can’t be acting like a child who didn’t get the toy he asked his parents for.

“So not only do you lust for him but also love him?”

“I-I do, father.”

He was prepared to hear your admission but to hear it straight from you, his heart crumbles to his feet, eyes welling up with tears and blurring his vision. Fate is truly cruel to those who're believed to be showered with blessings. Karl tilts up his head, he still has a confession to hear.

Is there really no chance he could ever be yours? 

Yes, a whisper at the back of his head said. It was already hopeless to think he had a chance in the first place.

He knew well enough how tight the rosary had bounded his hands, of course he never stood a chance. You know his boundaries more than he does at this point, his logic blurring whenever he sees you pass by, a passing breeze with your scent is enough to render him heedless.

At his heavy sigh, you called, anxious. “Father?”

“What a naughty girl you are. Lusting for someone who’s not your husband... What would the lord think of you now?”

He has no idea what compelled him to say such a thing with a seductive voice. He should give up already the logical part of him knew that but the other part of him urged him to continue, to hold onto the thinnest thread of hope that maybe this man you’re raving about is him.

It was delusional but can you really blame a man in love?

“H-he already thinks of me sinful for wishing to him every night… for someone to bend me over and fuck me rough like I’m nothing but a toy.”

A delicious shiver slithered down his spine at your words, urging blood to up to heat his cheeks and down between his thighs. He groaned softly, your soft voice matched with vulgar words sending pleasurable jolts down to his length.

You sounded so sultry, a succubus disguised as an angel descending to break him. It was dangerous to listen to you but he couldn’t help himself. Your voice holds the promise of a heated night lulling him closer to your arms.

“Tell me, do you ever touch yourself for him? Wishing it was his fingers and dick inside you?”

You responded with a soft groan, it was miniscule yet he almost bolted from his seat to cross the very boundary he was adamant to keep.

“Yes father. Every night I dream of him making me cum over and over again, not stopping even when I tap out.”

“What a mouth you have there. How bold of you to ask God himself for a good fuck and talk dirty to a priest."

Stop, the logical part of him whispered, he was crossing the boundaries placed between the light and the dark. But his heart that thudded harder in his chest and his cock that stirred in his trousers fogged his mind.

He’s too far gone to even try and leave.

“And what are you going to do about it?”

There was a challenging tone in your voice, condemning him to his fall from heaven and into the hell of your own making.

The string of constraint snaps and he’s on his feet. Karl walks out of the booth and into the other side, throwing the curtain open to see you look up at him with wide eyes, surprised and eager but he could see the glint of mischief in them.

There’s a lot of things that raged in his mind, actions he could do with you at his mercy. But instead, he sighed, mind clearing a bit as he straightened up.

“Step out of the booth and kneel in front of the cross to pray, I will baptise you once you show remorse to the lord."

He watched intently as you stood up with shaky legs, approaching the wooden podium noiselessly, the silence growing intensity with every footsteps taken. 

It was suffocating and exhilarating at the same time.

This is crazy, this is crazy. His thoughts bounced around his mind but he could care less, he started this and he will see through it all.

The stained glass windows casting a shadow over the figurine nailed on the cross, sculpted face tilted down, its expression ever firm yet it looked like iy was frowning at him for a split second.

It was spine chilling how it felt like its eyes were made to glower at him with disgust, judging his very being at where he stood. Karl's guts twisted at the thought, fear rising up to his throat only to dispese the moment you kneeled onto the red carpet, waiting for the priest to arrive and deliver his blessing, waiting for no one but him.

Your prayer left your lips in hushed whispers with both hands cupping each other close to your mouth. With the moon beaming down onto you, highlighting your figure underneath the oversized button up you wore. It was unfair how his desire showed no intention of stopping while you remained calm kneeling in front of the god’s hanging figurine.

The church gate closed and the lock echoed with a loud metallic clang and you shivered noticeably. Karl had to lock the main gate, nobody could enter the premises without his permission and no one could interrupt his moment with you. 

Heaven knows he'd run away if anyone were to ruin the already fragile mood.

"Father?"

"Can't have anyone entering such a holy space during a cleansing, you wouldn't want anyone to see how much of a bad girl you are, do you?"

Karl has never been as nervous as he is now. Not even when he moved out of his parents' house nor when he rose to stand in front of the masses for the first time as a priest. 

Yet there he was… A pin-drop interruption away from cowering in a corner. Both sides of himself are stuck in an on-going tug of war between his human desires and his god-fearing heart screaming at him.

Even every step he takes towards the front where you kneel and shiver with his approaching footsteps felt like he was striding towards his death.

His eyes wandered back to the divine sculpture pinned between mismatched panes of colored glasses. Karl's chest tightened before he averted his gaze in favor of paying attention to you.

God wanted his children to live happily and this is one of the things that'll give Karl joy, surely the divine and benevolent God could grant him this one sin.

But seeing the delectable tremble that shook your body after his words, his human desires pushed further front. He wanted to see your reaction, ached for a glimpse of how your cheeks flushed dark in his presence when he crouched in front of you, hand reaching up to pinch your chin and tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

There was something addicting with the way you easily surrendered control to him with so much trust made pride swell in his chest, something about the sight of you obediently kneeling with hands splayed on your thighs and staring up at him with wide eyes brimming with desire. A hunger he has grown unnaturally familiar with, befriended it even.

He couldn’t help but wonder if those eyes will retain its warmth and crave for his touch if you ever caught a glimpse of his mind whenever he thought about you.

"Before we start, tell me now if you want to back out, princess."

The rosary hanging from his neck scorched his skin, their round beads digging into his skin like an apparent annoyance. The accessory weighed heavier than any other day when he took it off and held it in his hand, a reminder of his duty as a priest who has made the pledge of Chastity, the same promise he’s about to break for you.

But if a ‘no’ ever escapes your lips, no matter how loud or hushed it is, he’ll be willing to stop in his tracks and move districts. 

He couldn’t bear the thoughts of you looking at him with disgusted eyes.

“Darling?”

You let out a shaky exhale. “Yes,  Father Jacobs.”

He grinned. “Good girl, now start praying.”

Karl watched as your eyes grew comically wide in shock, cheeks burning in humiliation as you fell to your chest, no doubt ashamed of assuming differently of his words. He held back the urge to laugh, no matter the setting, you never fail to be adorable.

But those worries dissipated once his large hand took yours with urgency and pressed the rosary into your hold.

Of all the hands he’s seen having the accessory hang from during the Sunday masses, he could confidently say that yours is the greatest of all. He wondered how your wrists looked when tied tightly with it.

“You only stop if I tell you to, alright? If you disobey, there will be consequences.”

With a nod, you started muttering your prayers and he went ahead to claim the lone bottle on the counter a few strides away.

"I'll start the baptising now."

But instead of going through the whole ordeal of sprinkling bits of the liquid on you like a proper priest would, he uncapped the bottle and poured its contents on you.

The water is truly holy, he thought as he stared at the sight of you in wet clothing.

You only gasped as the liquid drenched your shirt, sticking into your skin and revealing the bold red lacy bra you wore. The colour complimenting your skin so perfectly it hurts, it pains him that he's not seeing it properly.

"My apologies, the bottle broke. That shirt must be uncomfortable, we can proceed without it."

He went around you with hands cupping your shoulders as he kneeled, giving it a comforting squeeze before he reached around to undo two buttons. Your breath hitched when the collar loosened, he knew deep within that it was from the excitement and arousal yet he couldn’t help but be worried.

Karl would rather die and never see you again than be hated by you after using his power as a priest to force you into agreeing to this.

"Hey, are you sure you want this?"

When you nodded, he poured all the contents of the bottle onto your head, unsatisfied by your response. The fabric is practically translucent against your skin, what a sight you are to behold.

You gasped as the chilly temperature encouraged goosebumps on your skin but he could care less, he needed to hear you say it.

"Words princess. I need to hear them."

"Yes, Father Jacobs."

"Good girl." His words elicited a shiver from you as his hands made quick work of your shirt, shedding it off and tossing it somewhere in front.

The new uncharted skin revealed to him made his breath hitch, feverish and unmarked beneath his fingers, the goosebumps he felt under his touch sending a pleasurable shiver down his spine. He placed a kiss on your shoulder, warmth exploding in his chest at your sigh. Such a perfect little darling for him.

Karl listened to your breathing as he lightly nibbled on your skin, careful not to leave a long lasting mark before drifting down to a more inconspicuous area to suck on. 

As much as he wanted Kinoko to know you've been fucked thoroughly tonight, he wasn't sure you'd like the idea like he does.

“Wearing such a promiscuous bra at a church, did you ever plan on repenting for your sins? Or were you hoping that someone would take you home and fuck you like the slut you are?”

“No sir, it's only for your eyes, Father Jacobs.”

He chuckled, pleased. “If it's a present for me, then shouldn’t I unwrap it?”

His pecks turned into open mouthed kisses and soon, he was laving the skin hiding your rapid heartbeat with his tongue. Every sigh you emit sends pleasurable jolts downward and further hardening his length, your every soft moan of his name frying his nerve endings alight, the feelings are intoxicating.

Your sweet, honeyed scent is addicting as it surrounds him and like the addict he is, he drowned in them, letting your perfume momentarily overpower his lust.

even then, he noticed the silence—save for your moans— in the room and swatted your thigh.

"I'm not hearing your prayers missy, don't think I've forgotten that."

If you continued, he didn't even realise. His focus zoned on the feeling of lace under his touch as he touched the hem before unclasping your bra and disposing them somewhere behind him, hands surged to your mounds, grabbing a handful and squeezing it gently. Hard nubs poking his palm, screaming for his attention, urging him to pinch them.

You’re so soft and pliant underneath his touch, surrendering and trusting him with your vulnerability and boy, does it feel good.

He felt like a high schooler who just saw boobs for the first time in his life, a teenager about to cream his pants at the sight of a topless woman. It wouldn’t surprise him if he explodes before even entering you.

"So pretty for me."

As his hands massaged both mounds gingerly in his hold and you sighed, nails digging into your skin as he pulled them before pushing back up to relieve the stings his fingers left. 

His fingers soon found your nipples and pinched them between two digits, sending ripples of pleasure in your system as he tugged on them before rolling the hard nubs in different directions.

But you needed more and he knows that from the way you crossed your thighs to close around nothing, attempting to relieve the burn in your inner core, the intense ache between them. Karl watched as your cheeks crudely flushed before he parted you open with his legs wedging in between them.

His long hands trailed down your legs teasingly, dropping to your inner thighs before they caress you up to your knees. 

"Father Jacobs, please."

His hands paused at your thighs. "What is it?"

"Touch me please..."

"But I am touching you." His hands dug into your flesh before grabbing onto them with an iron grip, the sting only igniting your core further.

"You know what I mean.."

"I don't, princess. Tell me what do you want?"

Arousal burned your cheeks a deeper red as you desperately grabbed his hand on your inner thigh and dragged them to your itching heat, body trembling when he cupped over your sex. 

Karl felt light as you pushed his fingers down on your prominent nub, moaning as you manoeuvre them to circle it, he could feel the fabric grow wetter with every touch and he almost passed out.

The heat radiating off of your clothed folds is enough to drive him crazy, he couldn’t even imagine how he’d react once he breaches your underwear and touches your arousal, revelling in them.

He could feel the burning phantom stare above him, shame curling around his heart as he stared down at your slowly writhing hips. Karl wasn't emotionally affected by his dirty talk earlier but now that he's touching your clit through your panties, the guilt weighing heavily on his heart almost made him run but your voice pulled him down, grounding him 

"Touch me here, father."

The corner of his mouth tugged up. "Asking to be finger fucked in front of the lord, aren't you a kinky little slut?"

You nodded feverishly, groaning as you pushed his hand down, mewling at the pressure applied to your clit. The fabric was absolutely drenched in your wetness and Karl almost blacked out.

He didn’t need to hear your words next, his hand pulling the cloth to one side before the other slid down into your folds, brushing over your clenching hole and rising up to press onto your clit. You moaned, hips following the slow swirl of his finger.

Karl wondered what he could do to you, there’s a lot of possibilities and he’s lightheaded at the thought of them. 

He could have you trembling from pleasure upon pleasure here on the floor but he could also treat you properly and calmly guide you to your climax. Karl wondered what could satisfy a minx like you.

“Karl please…”

Of course this isn't enough. He slipped two fingers in and you let out a strangled moan at the sudden but welcomed intrusion, back arching when he curled his digit to reach up to the spongy spot continuously that got your hips rising from the floor.

You moaned and panted so sweetly in his ears, hands gripping onto his sleeves as he plunged his two fingers in and out of your cunt at a growing frequency.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

His hand picked up a pace and you mewled, head falling back to his shoulder as your hips rose to meet his thrusts. The wet squelch bouncing off the walls with every thrust of his finger made your cheeks burn from embarrassment but they only goaded him on. 

The apparent burning phantom stare now numb to him as he opened your thighs further for his gaze.

Karl felt light at the feeling of your walls clamping around his hand greedily, sucking him in yet also pushing him out, it was maddening. His length ached behind the confines of his pants, desiring nothing but to plunge himself into your heat and die a happy man.

“My little princess is so drenched for me.” He slid another digit into your folds, smoothly joining the already inserted fingers in its increasing pace and you fluttered. “Don't you have any shame for spreading your legs in front of God?”

A slick slap tore a yelp from your throat, the sting lighting your skin aflame before his fingers plunged itself again into your hole with a renewed vigour, the new pace got your knees flinching to close but his legs wedging between them prevented it from shutting and instead opened it further.

You cursed under your breath, hands rising up to massage your breasts, pulling on your nipples as you moaned like a crazy woman in his arms.

Karl watched with bated breath as his hands retracted and reentered your cunt, throat tightening as your walls clamped onto his curling fingers with an iron grip. You were crumbling in his arms and he’s elated, he was enjoying his effect on you, whose body is sensitive and responsive to his every touch.

It was an addictive feeling and he’s obsessed.

“Fa-faster…! Fuck.. Karl!”

"Aren't you ashamed you're being finger fucked in front of the lord, princess?"

You clenched at him as your head shifted in his shoulder, probably to look at the statue above you both before moaning a little louder than before, undeterred by the omniscient eyes possibly watching him pump his fingers in and out of you.

He thrust his fingers in and out feverishly, like his life depended on it. With his legs keeping your thighs firmly open, you had no choice but take it all, hips thrashing wildly and bucking into his fingers. Karl clamped a hand over your mouth as your moans increased in volume, bouncing off the walls of the church.

He was proud he's making you scream but he wouldn't want to wake up any of the sisters nor concern the locals with your screams.

"I-I'm close..!"

"Come for me princess, give it to your darling priest."

The pressure from his palm bumping into your clit along with the rapid thrust of his digits soon got you trembling as hot white flashed behind your closed lids and you came. 

You screamed into his palm as your orgasm came without a warning, exploding and lewdly expelling liquid pleasure into the chapel floor before trembling pathetically in his arms, body reduced to the state of euphoria.

Karl retracted his hand with a squelch, raising it to eye level to revel in the wetness fully coating it, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at them drooping down before sucking on his fingers. Your flavour exploded on his tongue and he groaned.

"You taste so fucking good baby. Did so well for me."

Your hands weakly tugged on his pants and he knew what you wanted.

Because he also wished the same.

Soon enough, his pants were tossed somewhere behind him and he was left standing on his boxers. The stiff tent on them immediately caught your eyes and you reached out to free him from the constricting fabric, hand wrapping around his base once he was completely bare.

Karl dared to let his fantasies play in front of him as he watched your hand pump him slowly and you stared at him through your eyelash before kissing the tip of his cock with feigned innocence, he groaned.

What a minx you are.

“Can I taste you, Father Karl?”

“Later, on your back now, princess.”

His hands guided you down carefully, palm splaying onto your abdomen as if your body would break under miniscule of pressure, his words and actions not correlating as he naturally hovered over your body.

There must've been divine intervention when you laid, spread and vulnerable in front of him. The moonlight escaping the huge mirror behind the altar shone perfectly down on your body, highlighting your perky nips and casting shadows on places that made you look more desirable than earlier when you were kneeling.

Karl couldn't help but be thankful that he was rewarded with such a sight in this life.

"You're so pretty." 

His head bent down to place a haste kiss on your stomach and your breath hitched. The heat of his breath and the hovering weight of his length on your fold frying your nerve endings aflame as he peppered kisses all over your body.

"Karl, please."

A huge hand entangled themselves with yours, his face hovering on top of you, noses a hair's width. He could feel your exhales on your lips, awakening the butterflies in his stomach as you stared at his lips.

Breathless, he asked. "What do you want, princess? I need to hear it"

"Kiss me please." 

You didn't need to ask twice when Karl leaned down to capture yours in a slow dance. Time slowed, all you could feel was the softness and warmth of his skin under your touch and slightly chapped lips caught between yours.

He reached a hand to cup your cheeks, scared that you'll be another dream of his as you nibbled on his lower lip.

You only stopped when breathing became a problem, Karl pulling away first to place kisses between the valley of your breast before he rose to head level, silently asking for permission as he stared deep into your eyes.

No words were said but you understood what he wanted. His eyes reminding you of a begging dog as it stares deep into yours.

With a nod and a trembling exhale at the promise of pleasure he was about to give you, the head of his length parted your hole, walls clenching around him as he entered. A searing heat flooding your folds as you adjusted to his thickness while he carefully inserted himself into you.

His groan rumbled deep in his lungs and ricocheted in the shell of your ears before sending shivers down your spine, the pain of his iron grip on your waist only fueling the burn of lust raging in your veins. 

His firm composure shook, eyebrows crunching and eyes closing in unadulterated pleasure just from entering you.

Karl almost passed out, your warmth clamping around his dick so greedily is taking his breath away. Lord forbids he moves, he might come earlier than he'd want to.

God give me strength.

"Relax a little, baby." His thumb found your bundle of nerves and rolled it gingerly in tight cirlces as he slowly pushed all of his inches inside your cunt.

You felt full to the brim. You haven’t had someone as thick as Father Karl before but it was a welcomed change. Your breath stuck in your throat as you adjusted to his length, legs wrapping around his middle as your body decided between keeping him inside and ejecting him. 

Karl's head fell to your shoulders, grunting and panting as your walls crazily pulsed around him, crunching his eyes as he focused on something else other than coming earlier than he'd want to.

"I-I'm sorry, it's been a while."

His body shuddered as he struggled to withhold his own climax for you. There’s a sick part of yourself that glowed at the sight of his struggle, small whimpers erupting from his throat as he hid his reddened cheeks from your eyes.

Karl is breathtaking when he’s domineering and demanding but absolutely sinful when he’s panting and embarrassed. 

Experimentally, you wound your legs around his lower back and tighten around him. A strangled whine left his lips, the sound sinful yet so sweet as his nails dug into the skin of your waist. "St-stop it."

"Come on, Karl. I wanna see you come."

"F-fuck…!" He weakly exclaimed, his composure faltering as you squeezed harder. “Stop..!”

“But you look so pretty like this.” 

You wiggled your hips and he folds, his back falling and rising in quick successions before he pulled out and splattered his hot semen into your abdomen. You couldn’t help but giggle at this. A crisp slap echoed in the room, his hand leaving an angry mark on your left inner thigh.

"You are in so much trouble, young lady."

"Am I really?"

Your teasing chuckle halted in your throat when he plunged three digits into your heat, moving them at a feverish pace, not letting you adjust to the stretch. Your hips rose from the ground from the sudden influx of stimulation, trying to avoid his unforgiving thrust but the firm hold on your waist prevented you from moving away.

A wicked grin spreads on Karl's face as your legs flail around him, heels digging into his thighs and pushing him away but the man relents. 

“Stop moving and take it like a good little slut.” He grunted as your nails dug into his biceps, squeezing hard enough to hurt but not to bleed.

Blood rushes up to your cheeks at the name, embarrassingly aroused by it. The stinging pain it brought became the pleasure that ran down to his length, hardening it further. You could only wail in place, his iron grip on your waist unrelenting.

Your body erupted in flames, every vein of your body scorched with the fierceness of pleasure running through them, every collision of his hips into yours sending sparks down your thighs. There was nothing but moans and whines leaving your lips as the coils in your abdomen tightened with every thrust and Karl knew it.

His eyes rose to your lust clouded eyes, down to your bouncing breasts and standing nipples almost begging for his touch before it fell to your cunt sucking him in greedily as you bounced on his cock. 

He burned the image of your sex-drunk state at the back of his eyelids, such a sight should be treasured forever.

A sloppy slap echoed in the chapel and your legs closed around his body, his fingers retreats from your hole only to be replaced by his length, immediately lodging himself to the hilt, his head almost nudging your uterus.

"Fuck!"

"That's right baby. This priest is fucking you good tonight."

He folded your legs to your stomach before starting his rampage, pulling out until his head remained before bottoming out in a flash and you screamed as you came apart without warning.

Even with your legs twitching and your sobs increasing in volume, Karl only continued, even daring to speed up. He didn't mind that you're about to leave bleeding scratches on his forearm, if anything, they're proof of this encounter. Something he'll surely remember in his waking days and sleepless nights.

Just like how he carved himself inside you.

You stuttered out incoherent words as he thrusted in and out of you in quick progressions, impatient and rabid. Pleasure and pain intermingled with each other so much your brain couldn't process which one is which as they blurred,  deeply cock drunk to w

There was something about how you're letting him witness such a sight, to let him bask in your lust driven state that makes his heart grow. 

So trusting and so perfect for him, God himself is truly generous to grant him this opportunity.

"K-Karl, please..! I can't—"

"You can baby, now give me another one."

As if his dick continuously poking your g-spot wasn't enough, his hand moved down to roll your protruding bundle of nerves and you swore you saw fireworks behind your eyelids. 

Pleasure flooded and fogged your already sex-addled mind, your own thoughts overshadowed by your own arousal and you screamed. Karl watched your shaking thighs with sadistic glee before the dam broke and you squirt.

Your throat grew hoarse and dry as your climax tore a moan from it. Karl pulled out until the tip and plunged back in, albeit slowly this time, his ears tuned to your incoherent blabbers as he chased his own high.

“I-I can’t anymore.”

His palm felt like spring after a harsh winter when it splayed on your back and rubbed your skin gently, comforting but it did nothing to your shaking legs. “Just a little bit more, princess. Can you do that for me?”

You only hummed a response, there was nothing you could do with weakened limbs and a traitorously hungry cunt despite the stings of pain lashing across it. His groans rumbled deep into your middle. 

“Next time, I’ll fuck you properly on a bed, treat you like a princess and a cock sleeve that you deserve. Would you like that baby?”

You nod, tears spilling down your eyes as his hips collided into yours, the promise of a next time lost in your muddled thoughts. It didn't take long before thick strings of his cum flooded into your insides, his own climax triggering yours and your body shook.

Karl couldn’t help but chuckle as your greedy cunt constricts around nothing to keep his seeds from spilling out. Seeing his come ooze out of your pulsing cunt sent tremors down his spine but he has to stop now, you’re already spent tonight.

Later.

He rose to pick your lax figure up from the floor and forced you to sit on the nearest pews before going around the room to pick up your discarded clothes. Karl decided on forgoing his t-shirt to use it to wipe his essence staining the wood and your skin, your wordlessness made him nervous.

You could be still gliding from the state he reduced you to or maybe you were regretting everything, either way, Karl is scared, you could see it in his eyes as he gingerly wiped you down and dressed you up until you gathered the strength to do it yourself.

Laying on the floor indeed gave you back aches and with the weakness of your limbs from your previous endeavours exhausted you incredibly, the comfortable silence of the room only pulling you closer to sleep, something Karl immediately took notice of.

“Did you regret it?”

You cupped his cheeks, keeping his eyes firmly on yours before shaking your head. “No, I don’t.”

“Wanna stay the night?”

“If you promise to let me hog your blankets.”

He grinned, kissing the tip of your nose. “Of course princess.”

[plushie-pink]

CW: SMUT

Here’s a tiny sneak peek of an original work I’m writing right now 🫶🏾

Contains: First time, weird sex cult, priest fucking, oral sex, vaginal sex, watersports, age-gap relationship

“But you’ve never done it before.”

Maya shook her head.

“That’s okay,” he said, leaning in and letting his soft lips brush her ear. Maya sighed involuntarily, wanting no more than to lean into the warmth of the man so terribly close. To her. “I could help you with that, if you’d like.”

Maya knew this feeling. A warm, tingly feeling rushed towards her mound. It started to pulsate and ache, and she realized it was a familiar feeling she only got every so often: when she watched the other women dance with their chests close to one another, or when a man walked by with his clothes sticking to him after he’d come back from fishing.

“Yes please, sir.”

Venerable Oakes got up from where he sat and cleared off his desk, leading Maya to sit at the base of it, and Evelyn and MaryAnn came to their assistance immediately. As Evelyn started undoing the buttons of her dress and exposing her breasts, Maya realized that her nipples were hard. They tingled, and she moaned in surprise when MaryAnn kneeled beside her and took her lips to her breast and started sucking hard. The older woman opened her mouth and licked her own fingers before returning to Maya’s nipples again. She went under Maya’s dress and pushed into her underwear, rubbing in small circles around the young woman’s clitorous with her middle and ring finger.

Maya let out a shuddering breath. She touched herself sometimes, but only when she absolutely couldn’t resist it; she’d wait until everyone was asleep or out of the house, and then rub herself against a pillow or bed frame, covering her mouth so that she didn’t moan too loudly. Being touched so directly though, that was a new experience.

The pulsating feeling between her legs only got hotter, stronger. Venerable Oakes looked down at her warmly and smiled as he unzipped his pants and ran his fingers through her dark hair. As soon as he unbuttoned them enough, his cock swung out and slapped Maya across the face. She gave a soft whine in response.

Maya’s mouth was watering. Like Maya said, she’d read about men and sex in school before and known about the concept vaguely, but she never expected to see a penis so big that close to her face.

She felt her arms being held back and above her head, the first by Evelyn as she began to suck on Maya’s other breast, then MaryAnn also holding her wrist against the desk as she worked her nipple. She bit gently, rubbing her clit slightly faster and pushing down into it, forcing her to moan loudly, gasping desperately for air as though the two women were downing her. As she held her mouth open, Oakes burried himself in her mouth. He let out a pleasured sounding moan, thrusting so that he worked the tip of his cock on her lips, and then going deeper.

“Good girl,” he encouraged Maya when she gagged. “You’re doing so good. Open wide.”

[acureforlivingwriting]

Hozier lyrics and religious guilt? Hell yeah

⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️

The Priest and the Adders

‘In 1998, as Father Peter Bryne reaches the age of forty, he is overcome by the weight of realizing that his life has been squandered in the service of the clergy. His world is turned upside down when an enigmatic stranger visits him in the confessional booth, leading Peter to grapple with his innermost desires. As he embarks on a pursuit of corruption, his path intersects with that of Malachi, a young man who is drawn to questions of morality and seeks Peter's companionship.

Amidst this internal struggle, will Peter Bryne succumb to temptation? Will he ultimately choose the path to Heaven or succumb to the allure of Hell?’

•priest/fallen angel/fallen angel

•confession booth 🌶️

•xenobiology

•transformation

•m/m/m

•1990s setting

•b/d/s/m dynamics

•theological discussions as foreplay

⛪️⛪️⛪️

[winxanity-ii]

SACRILEGIOUS DEVOTION [1/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: So, Father Charlie is out here losing all his morals and sanity on Grotesquerie and my mind couldn't help but match it, so what's a better idea other than channeling all the religious trauma/journey into a spicy one-shot? i for one feel like it's a mini-therapy, but enough rambling, enjoy 😩🫶🏾 i'm in love with a holy man, mother 😔…. second part: 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 and final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Father Charlie Mayhew was a sick man.

Not in the manner of flesh, but of spirit. He could feel the sickness festering in the quiet corners of his heart, a sinful yearning that had taken root there, twisting itself around his thoughts like creeping ivy.

It was a sickness that, he believed, made him a grotesque parody of the holy man he was meant to be. For how could he call himself righteous, devoted, when every whisper of prayer felt stained by the way his eyes followed you, Sister ____?

You were a vision of purity, an embodiment of the kind of gentle devotion that Father Charlie envied and craved all at once.

He watched you from a distance, always careful not to draw your gaze, afraid of what you might see if you looked too deeply. How dutiful you were, sweeping the church aisle with a focus that made him forget the dust and see only the graceful motion of your hands.

The sun, filtered through stained glass, seemed to seek you out, casting colors on your habit as if to mark you as someone far beyond his grasp, almost holy in your mundane tasks.

It was in the mornings, when he heard the soft chime of your laughter in the courtyard as you fed the pigeons, that he felt the deepest sting of his wretchedness.

The world seemed simpler in those moments, your laughter echoing off the stone walls, the warmth of early sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. He wondered if you knew how your kindness drew even the animals to you, their heads dipping into your palms as if receiving communion.

There was a stillness to you, a gentleness in every gesture.

The worst of it was during your services. Father Charlie had seen you on your knees before, hands folded in earnest prayer, your lips moving softly as you whispered your devotion to God.

He would stand at the back of the chapel, watching with a mixture of awe and something far darker. He told himself it was admiration, but the truth festered beneath that facade.

It was longing, a hunger that ached at the edges of his soul.

A storm raged outside the convent one evening, winds battering the church walls with a fury that mirrored the tempest building in his chest. The clouds were bloated, dark as his thoughts, and thunder rolled across the sky with a violence that shook even the faith he held so dear.

You had come to his chambers in the dead of night, your knock barely audible over the howling wind. He had been preparing for bed, freshly out of the shower, wearing only his boxers when he heard you at the door.

The creak of the old wood seemed to echo forever as he opened it, and there you stood, eyes wide, looking so impossibly fragile in the dim candlelight of the corridor. Your modest night slip clung to your form, the thin fabric shifting in the draft that sneaked in from the hallway.

Charlie's breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you, innocence incarnate, seeking refuge with him.

He hesitated for only a moment before allowing you in, quickly wrapping himself in a silk robe that hung loosely on his shoulders, barely tied. He knew he should not let you enter, but there was something in the way you looked at him—so trusting, so devoted—that made him abandon every rational thought.

You had come asking to pray with him, your soft voice trembling as you spoke. The storm outside seemed like a reflection of the turmoil within him as he let you step past the threshold, closing the door behind you.

Now, you were here, kneeling before him, your eyes upturned and wide, waiting for his command, for his instruction like the obedient servant of God that you were.

Your soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, a gentle, "Father...?"

Charlie could only lament to himself how sinfully pure you looked. He hummed softly, his eyes dark as they trailed over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the delicate line of your neck.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across your skin, highlighting the innocence that made his hunger all the more unbearable.

"Yes, forgive me, Sister. Let us now pray," he finally said, his voice low and rough, the words nearly swallowed by the sound of the wind outside. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead, and you leaned into the touch without hesitation, your eyes closing as if his hand was a blessing.

He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling deeper into the forbidden desires he had tried so desperately to keep buried.

He began to pray, his voice low, raspy, each word a struggle against the chaos inside him. "Heavenly Father, we come before you tonight..." But the words felt hollow, their meaning slipping away as he watched you, kneeling so obediently at his feet.

His eyes darkened, wandering further down, tracing the lines of your form. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath—it all seemed to pull him further from the sanctity of the moment.

He should have been thinking of God, of salvation, of the purity of the prayer—but instead, he was thinking of you, of the way the thin fabric clung to your skin, the soft curve of your breasts visible through the modest slip.

He licked his lips, his gaze fixed on the delicate line of your collarbone, the way it rose and fell with each breath you took.

The more he spoke, the less the words mattered. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading through his body, his thoughts growing more erratic, each word of the prayer slipping further from its sacred meaning, twisting into something profane, something filthy. "Protect us from all evil..." he whispered as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, the words a bitter irony as he felt himself drawn further into the darkness of his desires.

His hand moved lower, fingers trailing down your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat. His touch was gentle, but there was a weight behind it, a hunger that he could no longer deny.

He could almost see the curve of your bare skin beneath the thin fabric, the outline of your body that he should not be imagining. He tried to focus on the prayer, but every word felt like a lie. He let out a shaky breath, the prayer faltering on his lips. "Guide us... guide us in your light," he managed, his voice thick with the weight of his longing.

The storm outside raged on, the wind howling as if to warn him, but Father Charlie could no longer hear it. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears as he looked down at you, so trusting, so willing.

As the final words of the prayer fell from his lips—"Amen"—you echoed him, your voice soft and unwavering. You blinked open your eyes, looking up at him with such innocence and Charlie felt himself slip past the point of no return.

He knew that no amount of prayer could ever cleanse him of what he wanted, that he could no longer pretend, no longer fight against the pull that drew him to you—the sweet, precious nun who had unknowingly captured his very soul.

Father Charlie stood, his robe slipping slightly from his shoulders, exposing the toned muscle beneath. The wind howled outside, and thunder bellowed again, followed by a flash of lightning that lit the room in a brief, startling blaze of white.

You were still kneeling before him, your wide eyes following his every movement, the flickering light casting you in both shadow and radiance.

Charlie bent at the waist, his fingers reaching out to cup your jaw, thumb caressing your bottom lip as his half-lidded eyes trailed over your face. "Sister ____," he murmured, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of affection, his name for you almost reverent, as though you were something sacred, something he could worship in his own unholy way.

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath his touch, a soft stutter escaping your lips. "F-Father...?"

He grasped one of your hands, his fingers wrapping around yours, and as he stood, he gently urged you to rise with him. His gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and full of something raw. He began to speak, his voice barely more than a murmur, the words heavy with confession. "As a man of God, there are expectations placed upon me," he started, his tone wavering between remorse and something darker, something that made his grip on your hand tighten. "I am meant to guide, to protect, to remain steadfast in my faith."

His other hand moved, slowly pulling your trembling hand against his bare stomach, pressing your palm against the hard planes of his abdomen.

You gasped, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, your hand trembling beneath his. The heat of his skin burned into your palm, the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Charlie continued, his voice lowering, growing more intense as he spoke. "But these days... these days, Sister, I find myself at war. At war with desires that threaten to consume me..." His words trailed off, and he let out a low hum as he rubbed your hand across his stomach, the movement slow, deliberate.

Your hand hesitated for a moment, the warmth of his skin making you tremble as you instinctively pulled back. But his grip was firm, guiding you back, and slowly, tentatively, your fingers splayed across his stomach, your touch feather-light.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering down before you took a timid step closer, as if drawn by some invisible force. Your gaze shifted to the side, your cheeks warming with embarrassment at the proximity, at the way you could feel his heart beating beneath your palm.

Father Charlie's eyes never left you, and he could see every ounce of hesitation, every flicker of uncertainty that danced across your face. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your forehead as he spoke, his voice a low murmur, "There's no need to be afraid, Sister. You are safe here... with me."

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as you dared to look up at him, your eyes meeting his through the veil of uncertainty.

There was something in his gaze, something dark and magnetic that pulled at you, made your pulse race. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw; the touch almost comforting, but there was an intensity behind it that made you shiver.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice to speak, your fingers trembling slightly against his skin. He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips, and he hummed again, satisfied with your silent answer.

His other hand moved to rest against the small of your back, pulling you just a little bit closer, his robe parting further, exposing more of his chest.

Your breath hitched as you felt the distance between you closing, the way his body seemed to envelop yours. You could barely think, your mind clouded with the storm of emotions and the strange, electric pull you felt toward him.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he watched you. You felt your pulse quicken, your knees weakening under the intensity of his gaze.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and something darker, something that made your heart pound even harder. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body react, leaning in just slightly, as if craving more of his warmth, his touch.

His fingers trailed lower, coaxing your hand along his body, and you felt the tension, the desire in every muscle. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a husky whisper, "Let me show you, Sister ____... let me show you what devotion truly means."

He kissed you then, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. His mouth moved hungrily, tasting, devouring, and you felt his tongue lick into your mouth, coaxing a soft, surprised whimper from your throat. His groan vibrated against your lips, the sound raw and desperate.

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the sheer need in his kiss.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your lips tingling from the force of his kiss. He didn't give you a moment to recover; his lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, to make your knees weaken beneath you. The heat of his mouth trailed down, his tongue flicking out to soothe each small bite, and you felt your body trembling, a warmth pooling low in your belly.

Charlie's hands were relentless, holding you steady as your body threatened to give out, your knees buckling as his mouth worked against your skin. He pulled back only long enough to whisper your name, his voice thick with something between reverence and hunger.

Before you knew it, he had scooped you up, his arms strong and sure as he carried you towards his bed. Your breath hitched, your fingers clinging to his robe as he moved, each step filled with purpose.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His eyes roamed over you, dark and filled with desire, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Father Charlie moved quickly, his hands deft as he pushed your slip off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your skin and pooling around your waist. His lips followed the path of the falling slip, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your shoulders, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

You shivered beneath his touch, the cool air of the room prickling at your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling in response.

His eyes darkened at the sight of you, and he let out a low groan, his hands running along your bare arms, feeling the way you trembled beneath him. "You're like a goddess," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and lust. "Perfect. Untouched. A temptation I can't resist." His lips found your collarbone, kissing, nipping, his words vibrating against your skin.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, trailing down the center of your chest, his hands spreading across your back, urging you to arch into him. His kisses were relentless, each one making your breath catch, making your body react in ways that felt both unfamiliar and thrilling.

You couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, unsure of what to do, where to touch.

Charlie pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze filled with hunger. He pushed you back against the bed, guiding you to lie down, his hands never leaving your body, his touch possessive, as if he couldn't bear to be without contact. He looked down at you, splayed out before him, your slip barely covering you, and he licked his lips, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of adoration and hunger. "So innocent, so pure... and all mine." He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands working the slip further down your body, baring you completely to him.

The cool air made you shiver, your body exposed, vulnerable, and you couldn't help the way your legs shifted, instinctively trying to close.

Charlie's hands moved to your knees, gently but firmly pushing them apart, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your reaction. His lips moved from your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as he groaned against you.

He pulled the slip away entirely, tossing it aside, his hands roaming over your bare skin, mapping every inch as though he were committing you to memory. "You are... perfection," he muttered, his voice strained, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

His lips moved lower, trailing down your body, leaving a heated path across your chest, your stomach, and further down. His hands were strong, keeping your legs pinned open to the bed, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a possessive hold. He kissed along your inner thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver, anticipation coiling in your belly.

You instinctively tried to scoot back, to move away as you felt his breath getting closer to your core, but Charlie's grip tightened, his hands holding you firmly in place. He looked up at you, his eyes dark, almost predatory, as he whispered, "Stay still, Sister... let me worship you."

He breathed you in, a deep, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if savoring the scent of you, and then he leaned in, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.

A squeal, half surprise and half pleasure, escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the bed.

Father Charlie's tongue moved with a purpose, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands kept your legs spread, his grip firm and unyielding as he worked his mouth against you, his groans vibrating against your core.

He was relentless, his mouth moving with a hunger that made your head spin, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you.

You could feel his smooth skin against your inner thighs, the sensation only adding to the overwhelming pleasure that built inside you. His tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against you, his eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

The sight of you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath—only seemed to spur him on, his groans growing louder as he tasted you.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hips bucking against his mouth, a whimper slipping from your lips. Charlie's hands moved to hold your hips down, pinning you to the bed as he continued, his tongue delving into you, his nose brushing against your clit as he worked, utterly consumed by the taste of you.

He was lost in it, in you, his tongue moving faster, his mouth desperate as he devoured you.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, your body trembling beneath him. The heat built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter, until you felt like you might break apart. His name fell from your lips, a breathless plea, and he groaned in response, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body ready to fall apart under his touch.

Your first orgasm washed over you without warning, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you feeling weightless, your entire body trembling as you came undone beneath him. You melted into the bed like butter, your limbs going limp as the intensity of it left you breathless.

Charlie's mouth moved against you with a fervent hunger, drinking in every bit of your release as if it were the most sacred offering.

A small whimper escaped your lips as the sensation grew overwhelming, your body growing sensitive to his touch. He didn't stop, his tongue moving lazily, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, his mouth still savoring you.

Your grip on his head shifted, your fingers now pushing at him, trying to get him to stop, but his hands only gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you in place. "W-Wait..." The heat in your stomach was already starting to build again, the slow, deliberate movements of his tongue igniting another fire deep within you.

Charlie groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his face buried even further between your legs, his tongue relentless.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, your body trembling once more as the pleasure built. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your mind spinning as you tried to form words, but all that left your throat were broken, incoherent sounds—static that filled the room as you babbled.

You tried to scoot back, to move away from the overwhelming sensation, but Charlie's strong arms wrapped around your hips, yanking you back down, his grip unyielding. His own hips pressed into the bedding below, his desperation evident as he devoured you.

You teetered on the edge once more, the pleasure too much, too intense, until it finally broke over you again, your body arching, your mind going completely blank as you came undone a second time.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on you, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming ecstasy that left you gasping for air.

As you came down from your high, your body trembling, Father Charlie finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. He stared up at you with dark, lidded eyes, his expression filled with hunger, with desire that seemed insatiable.

There was no hesitation, no regret—only a raw need that made it clear he no longer cared about going against his vows, no longer cared about the priesthood or what was right.

All that mattered to him was you.

A/N: i'm sorry, i just watched Grotesquerie last night and i've become obssessed.... ugh, the tension between father charlie and sister megan is just *chefs kiss* it's clear that megan is obviously meant to be y/n and the screenplay was written in the intent of it being catered to the female gaze because wheeeeww 😩...

[gladiatorcunt]

- A ROTTEN TREE BEARS ROTTEN FRUIT | I.

god loves you, but not enough to save you

cw: kinktober prompt (whipping/flogging), blasphemy, inaccurate religious practices, lyrical sadomasochism (more so sadism on his part), erotic religious imagery and references, this dynamic is so weird, implied (as in in my mind) bi reader and charlie, plus sized reader, reader’s chest referred to as ‘breasts’ & ‘tits’ and their crotch referred to as a ‘hole’ but they do have a seperate one other than their ass, pregnancy fantasy, vomit mention, don’t know shit about the show fuck you ryan, blood kink, interchangeable ‘charlie’ & ‘mayhew’ based on pov

do not translate, repost, or feed this work to ai |

kinktober 2024

“Shh, let me clean you up, Father.” You smile, so softly, he could snap your neck if he squeezed hard enough.

You run your nails over his back, trimmed to an appropriate length. Father Mayhew sighs the way Adam might’ve when Eve’s walls clenched around him, God never being more important than this bliss. You’re so devoted, so devout in your worship but he’s beginning to think that you cry out to a different God than he does. If you even believe in an invisible one anymore when you have a savior in the flesh.

“Thank you, dear. That’d be great.” The pulls are pulled from his lips like rotund wooden beads, as if he has no choice but to endure the stretch as they exit his body one by one.

You shuffle off the bed and kneel behind him, stroking your fingertips down his back like he’s a marble statue you just can’t help but reach out and touch. The opposite of Delilah cutting Samson’s hair, you only want to imbue him with your pure love from the inside out. Spooning milk and honey over the tender welts.

His eyelids crinkle as you kiss the nape of his neck, blotting your lips with rouge. There is no inch of his back left without, and when you arrive at the bigger gashes you lavish the cut with your tongue. Drinking his life away and cleaning him up like a good little whore, servicing the man becomes the only thing of importance to you. You dip the tip of your tongue in the recess of the deeper wounds, and caress his tensing abs from behind when he grits his teeth and traps a curse behind them. You only kitten lick him, but often he wishes you would get real dirty with it, caressing your tongue over his muscles in broad and messy swipes.

His scars from previous lashings glint in the low light of the candles surrounding you. You give them their just desserts of course, grateful pecks of attention and acknowledgement. Soothing his pain, that is the only excuse you have to encroach on the verge of breaking your vows. Father Mayhew gives you a purpose and stops your bleating with a heavy hand if you forget your place. Stern hand to raw and stinging flesh.

Sometimes there is no pillow when you kneel behind him.

The next step is that you turn around and face the wall after picking up the cattail whip off the bed and returning it to its rightful owner. You’ve already discarded your habit, no tunic, coif, or veil left on your person. They’re folded neatly beside you, only your rosary nestled in the embrace of your heaving breasts. Your peaks harden in the stuffy humid air, all the oxygen in the world confined to this small room.

He saddles up behind you, his sweaty chest so close to the flesh and contours of your back. Father Charlie breathes you in, taking whiffs of your debauched scent in between silent prayers. He never allows himself to be as forward as you are, his thread of control over his desire has not snapped yet. There are boundaries he can push, but lines he can never cross.

“Good lamb, God recognizes your penance and forgives your soul.” He whispers, dragging the strips of leather down your back until goosebumps rise to the surface.

When you least expect it, he strikes. You muffle a shout into the wall and Father Charlie’s cock jumps under his towel. Briefly he imagines slamming into your tempting body dry, with no preparation, making you sure you feel as much pain as possible. The way you’d wince with every step around the church, the begging in your puppy dog eyes when you’d take communion. How he could hold it above your head like a bone in the shape of a fractured cross, dangling just out of reach of your gorgeous mouth.

The devil gives him dreams of fucking your throat until you’re vomiting and hoarse.

Every droplet of bed peeking out from the cracks of your skin to say hello nourishes him. He shushes you when you’re unable to hold back your sounds, cooing when he notices you humping the air after the fifteenth hit. You just can’t help yourself, nerdy by nature and nurture.

You start soaking the pillow beneath you, imagining what he must look like. A man and his broad hulking body curling around you as he hurts you. Your hole suddenly feels so empty, you have a night of riding your pillow ahead of you, you just want to be good for him in all the ways you’re supposed to be.

As you let a demon of sex control your body, he spies a flash of a white lacy thong nestled between your plump ass cheeks. He knows that if you had also worn a towel, he would’ve hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it off. You don’t get to hide any part of yourself from your Father. And he knows he will have to give himself another lashing for those thoughts alone. Even the secret wedding he plans as he strokes his angry red cock, always edging himself, he’s afraid of what would happen if he lets go. How loud the iron gates would be when they creak open. Like the way he wants to spread your ass open and toy with the hidden puckered hole.

His words are in his actions, reopening your old wounds and bringing the warm leather across your back one last time, he hopes your blood soaks through the material. Staining it, the way you have already stained his heart. Father Charlie grins despite himself when you slump against the wall, sliding his bible-roughened hands over your love handles and sticks his pecs to your shoulders.

“You did lovely, today. The Lord thanks you, and I’m so proud of you, you know that?” His thick fingers brush along the bottoms of your tits, never going higher.

He wants to slap them, wrap the beads of your rosary around them until the flesh bulges, painting your nipples in a mix of both of your blood. Marking your souls irreversibly. Marriage of the spirit, a ritualistic wedding in the eyes of the beholder. You shiver like a mouse in front of a snake, and beads of precum fall from his cockhead.

Did Saint Teresa have these feelings when she had the vision of an angel piercing her heart with their golden spear? Did Saint Sebastian when he was pierced by those arrows under the order of the Emperor? Did David when he wrenched Goliath’s head back by his hair and bested him into humiliation? Did it compare to the covenant he formed with Jonathan?

He kisses your glittering scars in thanks and washes your blood away with his lips and tongue too. But unlike any other day in which you’ve done this, he stands up with a grunt and pulls you up with him. Father Mayhew falls backwards onto his bed and so you follow dutifully, and because the hold he has on your wrist is strong to the point of bruising. You lay your head over his heart and pant into his skin as he teases your plush thigh, tracing crosses into the chubby expanse of skin.

“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” He cajoles, walking on that burning tightrope with you.

He wonders if your cunt would be just as chubby, if you’ve ever thought about humping the organ bench, riper than the forbidden fruit, and he mentally catalogs an extra long session of repentance. To be fresh and clean again. Father Charlie will go through his sermons with his lighthearted tone and charming personality, desperate to hide that he’s thinking of plunging his tongue in your asshole. Sipping and slurping up your musk like it’s the only holy water he needs to live. Or entice you into eating his ass, you would love being able to serve him properly, no doubt.

To nourish you with his fragments, his vertebrae and viscera. The body and the blood. The teeth and the testicles.

He’ll sit in quiet contemplation in front of the pulpit, pouring wine over your body in his mind. Following the red trail with his tongue as it trickles down the valley of your chest and dips in and out the folds of your belly. He’ll leisurely open his mouth on a silent moan at the top of your mound, the hairs like yellowing blades of glades against his philtrum, in a perfect paradise there’d be blood there too. His own personal, pervertedly literal, red sea.

You’d look so beautiful, swollen and fat with a child growing in your womb. A shame that can never happen, but a blessing that no heretic of a man could snatch you up and take you away from him. Your flock is here, and the heavy crook of his staff is all you need to guide you back home when you go astray. Trapped in his thighs, molded by his hands, punctured into line with his cock.

[monstersholygrail]

When Demon Priest finally has you in his arms and under his body, he makes sure you’re filled at the least six days out of the week. He may grant you a day of rest but it’s not that likely.

Demon Priest grips at your hips, lifting them up higher and spreading your legs wider, throwing his full force into every brutal thrust so that his tip kisses your cervix every time.

His chest is fused to your back, body curled around yours in worship. He groans in tune with the snap of his hips, the pure paradise that is being inside your perfect pussy has him feeling as though he’s finally reached heaven once more.

He never wants to leave again. His pace quickens, fucking up into you like a madman. Only managing to pull out half-way before he gives into temptation and slams himself back inside of you to the hilt.

“The world was filled in six days, and so shall my world. Every day I’ll fill you, my precious gift, till you’re dripping in my sacred cum and full of my seed. You want that, dove?” Demon Priest babbles mindlessly, his length a blur as it plunged into your warm gummy walls.

“Y-yes. I want you to— hah— fill me. Fill me ngh all the way up with your c-cum till my body can’t hold anymore. P-pleeeease!”

Demon Priest growls as the thought of being full of his cum sends you straight over the edge, coming hard on his cock and going boneless with pleasure. He holds onto you tighter, fucking you through your orgasm and straight into your next.

Unwilling to stop until a puddle of your combined release pools beneath you.

[little-diable]

Our next priest fic:

[madamechrissy]

✞ Forgive me For I have Sinned ✞

✞ Pairings: Priest Gojo x Fem Reader

✞ Word count - 5.7k

✞ Content/Warnings- You keep having dreams about Father Gojo, and he decides to try to save your slutty soul <3 NSFW, sacrilegious, confessional fucking, rosaries as bondage, lots of filling you w/love and light, oral (both receiving) fingering, explicit church sex, reader is a lil bimbo and innocent fr, Gojo has a HELL of a God complex (canon tbh) overall kinky asf

A/N- Booking the tix to hell-who's coming with!? I based off this drabble of mine: Priest! Gojo (you can read it first if you want!) Reader and Gojo are in their mid 20s. Enjoy!

It was hot outside, a scorching summer day, the type that made you want to jump in an icy cool lake naked, but in the sanctuary of this pristine church which is kept rather cool, you still have a drip of sweat beading down your collarbone. You’re wearing a pretty red summer dress, your little hat right next to you in the pew, as you watch him with avid attention.

Father Satoru Gojo.

The entire church is in love with him, enamored by him, there are admiring whispers even amongst the most vigilant catholics, the ones who would judge you for coming not in your Sunday best. They hid it well enough, acting as if they only cared so much because his sermons were so powerful, because he was so young and profound already.

But you know better, and they know better deep down, that Father Gojo was just gorgeous, a face chiseled to perfection, tall and broad shouldered, swoon worthy by all accounts. His husky voice and insane presence that shines brilliantly like a million diamonds certainly helps, but his face itself is so pretty it’s angelic.

When he looks at you with those brilliant blue eyes, swirling like a moody storm, all glittery behind those snowy white lashes? Well you feel…

You’re going to hell.

Last night you’d had this insane dream of him, where he has asked you to serve him on your knees, just as he would offer that eucharist and wine to you, but instead it’s his cum you’re swallowing. And you’re a good, God fearing girl, so, you certainly should not do or think of such things! And worst of all, with your priest, Father Gojo. He has vows too, yet you’d committed much sin already.

Just last night you’d awakened throbbing, having dreamt of pleasuring him, on your knees before him, and you’d been soaking wet and dripping down your shorts, even the sheet had a wet spot. You’d rubbed your swollen little clit in circles, gasping and arching your back, feeling fevered as you committed such sins, as picturing Father Gojo had you climaxing all over your own fingers.

You’d been so ashamed this morning! You’d splashed cold water on your face, staring at yourself in your mirror, shivering as the cool water dripped down your skin, knowing you should stay home, find some new church. You are full of impure thoughts and sin, and it’s all because of him, how could you confide in him that you feel this way, think this way?

What would he do if he knew? Cast you out or…

Stop it.

But as you’re crossing your legs, shifting your hips, you see Satoru Gojo’s full, pouty lips part, his eyes directly on you. You pause then, eyes wide, you must be imagining it, your sin surely is carrying over too far… but you test it, crossing your legs once more, and sure enough, his eyes follow your legs up, between your thighs, surely seeing your panties.

That gives you a fucking thrill you can’t describe, as does him licking his thumb, going to another page as he continues his sermon, women all over are fanning themselves, enamored by him. But perhaps none so much as you, picturing what’s under that cassock, under those white robes he wears, what that long, lithe body would feel like against yours.

You imagine your dream vividly later when he’s giving you the eucharist, placing the biscuit on your tongue as you hold your mouth open on your knees, then you see it, the hunger mirrored in his eyes. You tremble when he brushes a thumb over your lower lip, and your eyes drift to his lap, where you clearly see he’s hard. You gulp it down, looking up at him and taking the wine now.

Father Gojo looks down at you, white hair falling over a brow, finding your beautiful eyes are affecting him as much as your stance on your knees, his thumb finds your chin now, imagining shoving his cock between perfect lips. Surely, you are here to tempt him, to ruin him, you are sin itself, haunting his dreams, making him hard in the middle of church, right in his own service.

You look at it then, his cock under the cassock that’s becoming too tight, before licking your lip, eyes back up to his hungrily. You look like such a good girl, but your eyes tell another story, a story of wanting to get fucked hard, to be filled by him, wanting to have his cum all over your pretty face. He imagines that as the wine drips down your lips now.

Fuck he’s going to hell if he stays around you, surely even he has rules to uphold even if he certainly is God’s chosen. But… perhaps since he is God's chosen, it’s his duty to help a little sinful girl like you. And as you rise, holding his hand, and your breasts brush against his chest, you’re far too close, he vividly pictures yanking them out of that dress, tempting him to no end.

Of course you ask for confessional, and he’s dying at the thought of being so close to you, when all he thinks of is how good you look, how good you smell, and he is left to wonder, do you taste that good? Your pretty neck, your delicate collarbone, your pussy? Surely he should not think such things, but as he looks at you through the lattice of the confessional separating you both, he cannot stop his mind.

“Father Gojo… I fear my confession is most wicked.” Comes your breathy little voice, only serving to make Father Gojo’s thick length harden, picturing what your little moans must sound like when properly fucked.

“Go on, my pr- my child, you may tell me anything.” He says, coughing a bit, because he’d rather call you a pretty little slut, and he has no clue why the devil likes to try him so hard. It’s all your fault, truly. Pretty little thing.

“Okay… but…” You take a breath. “I have dreams of someone fucking me, someone I should not.” You say nervously, and watch him shift in his seat, you can smell his cologne so much in here, making you thirst more for him.

“It’s natural to have thoughts, my child.”

“No, Father Gojo… I’m playing with myself, thinking of him. Of… sucking him, or of him laying on top of me.” You hear Father Gojo making a choking sound, and you panic. “I’m so sorry! I…”

“Ahem, no, no… continue.” Father Gojo’s cock is straining, he can already feel precum sticking to his tip, picuring you touching your pussy, he bets it’s so pretty, bet it tastes so-

Sinful girl, aren’t you?

Surely that’s all this is, not… him wanting to sin! Father Satoru Gojo certainly is perfect, he’s God’s perfect creature, so if he wants this, it must be on you. Sin in a perfect little body with a perfect little face, and a voice that drives him to utter distraction. Surely, Father Gojo must try to save you.

“Father, I cannot stop thinking of him, he’s in all my dreams. What should my penance be, how many hail marys?”

Father Gojo has to stroke himself to adjust his huge, throbbing cock now, as he watches you through the lattice, biting your full lower lip, your head falling back, hair cascading. Hair he wants to pull as he fucks you from behind, making you arch your back to take more of his cock.

“I have to ask how you’re doing it… so that I can tell you your penance, so that I may try to save you.” He says, husky now, and you whimper softly, shifting on the bench, your pussy throbbing around nothing, picturing his cock filling you.

“How I do it, Father Gojo?”

“Yes, it’s… important to confess.”

“Well, I take my fingers, and I find my pussy with them, I roll them around my clit over and over, I get so wet that they slip- Father are you okay?” Satoru can’t stand it, he’s stroking his bare cock under his robes, resting his head against the wall, struggling not to cry out as he’s pumping.

“Ahem… indeed I am. So you finger your little pussy then?” At his words you’re a blushing mess, breaths coming more rapidly, your hands gripping the bench, dying for friction as you’re soaking your panties.

“Y-yes.”

“Do you slip your fingers in?”

“I… no! Um… no.”

“And you cum?”

“I… yes. I do cum. Imagining him.” You’re watching those robes rise and fall, then you know it, Father Gojo is stroking his cock right next to you.

“I see… I think I can help alleviate some of this, perhaps give you some guidance so that you do not afflict yourself so.” You want to touch yourself now, when you hear those breathy pants, your fingers clinging to the lattice.

“Yes, father, I need your guidance.” Cock, fingers, mouth… fuck you’re a full sinner, aren’t you!?

“Then come here, let us have our first attempt at saving you.”

Now you’re standing in front of him in the itty bitty room, face to face with Satoru Gojo, your Priest, and fuck if your nipples don’t tighten up, if your tummy isn’t clenching with desire. You’re nervously fiddling with your hands as he leans back, spreading his long legs as wide as they can in the tight quarters, his glittering blue eyes dilated as he licks his lips, making them glossy.

“You must show me how, and do not fret, sweet girl, it’s through god’s will of course, through me.” Father Gojo says, your breaths come faster as you slip up your sundress, and his eyes hungrily drink the sight of your bare thighs in. He leans forward, sliding those panties down, eyeing your glistening cunt now, his breath almost hitting it, making you jerk.

“Father… I cannot show you…”

“You can, I am here to help, have no fear.” He notices you’ve drenched your panties, a wet spot formed, sticky little strands of your arousal apparent as he pulls them down, hands touching the smooth skin of your thighs.

You put your hand on your pussy now, the other nervously holding up your dress, and you run your fingers in circles on your clit, crying out softly, as he lets out a low, guttural moan. You’re getting wetter as you play, as his large, sexy hands clench, the veins popping up out of the thin skin, and you’re trembling, imagining his long fingers working you instead.

Satoru is close to cumming as he watches your pretty face, your brows drawing together, your lips parted, eyes so dilated your pupils are taking over, just a thin ring of your iris left. Your lashes are lowered, and his hand stops yours now, as it’s playing with your soppy little cunt, you tremble before him.

“I see, I must help you, guide you. To get this… affliction taken care of. Yes?” You nod eagerly, then Father Gojo pulls you to his lap, and you’re straddling him, your hands sliding up to feel his strong shoulders under his robe, and he is touching your pussy instead, making you whimper. “Need me to save you, pretty little sinner?”

“Please save me. Please. Ah!” Satoru sinks two long fingers deep inside your eager little entrance, you gasp at it as he slips into your gummy walls, drippy and so tight. He’s paused, moaning and looking right into your eyes, you drown in his blue gaze, as your cunt drools down his hand. “Father Gojo… please…”

“Begging for it, are you? So tight, it’s so… have you had anything inside this perfect little pussy?” He huffs, feeling how you’re squeezing his fingers, then he hits some spot that makes you see stars, pumping up and down over and over. You cling to him, eyes fluttering shut. “Answer me, be a good girl for once, would you?”

Good girl for once.

There’s no hope for you.

“Nothing… no one… just you, Father Gojo. Mmm!” You’re covering your mouth as he keeps pumping, and he moans, dreaming of breaking you in all the ways he could, taking your innocence for himself. It’s surely what god is wanting, and who is he but god’s disciple himself? He thrusts those fingers knuckles deep, watching you fall apart over him.

“There, you’re loving this, fingers stretching your pussy, don’t you?” You nod weakly, gushing down his hand, you can hear the squishing wetness of your pussy as he now slides a thumb, rolling it over your clit.

“F-father Gojo!”

“Sinful girl.” He huffs, as you’ve buried your face against his neck, rocking against his hand, those long fingers fucking you so good it’s painful, moaning.

“Mmm! Father Gojo, I will… be good… for you…”

“Will you?” You nod weakly, as Satoru rolls your clit expertly, and you feel the pressure building, you’re panting, ready to combust. “I feel it, you’re so close, aren’t you?”

You’re nodding, hips grinding, now you’re soaking his robes, he’s picturing sliding his cock inside you, breaking you, until your sins are cleansed, and you’re picturing him taking you, defiling you in every way your hectic mind can picture. Both of you are about to cum, you’re not even touching Satoru though, you want to, fuck you want to.

“Close, m’close… p-please…” You’re begging for release, seeing stars as he works your now sloppy cunt.

“I've got you, you can let go, you're safe with me, let me see your sins so I can cleanse them.” He urges you on, bringing you higher and higher with those long, slick fingers.

“Father, it's... I'm gonna... mmm!” You're so close, soaking the sleeve of his robe now. And he's so ready to slide into your eager cunt, looking up at you behind snowy lashes.

“Show me how you sin, let me watch you cum, so I can... help you.” He whispers, and you fall apart then, pulsing around his fingers, and he groans as he watches you, pressing up so deep. You’re gushing so much arousal, he can smell your sweet scent, as you scream out into your little hand, shaking.

Satoru is now sliding his fingers out, you whine, wanting more, especially when he is sucking your juices off his fingers, making you gasp. His cheeks hollow, his eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you, your mouth drops open, breaths making you quicken, your heart pounding in your ears as you try to come down.

Your thighs are trembling over him, entire body lit up from cumming so hard, his snowy lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, before fluttering up, looking at you, your arousal coating his lips. “Oh my God.”

More sinning.

“You’re not being a very good girl.” He admonishes, but then his lips quirk up. “But, you taste too sweet to be bad. Or perhaps you yourself are sin.” Father Gojo whispers to you now, and you’re leaning closer, rolling your hips, making him groan, his hands gripping your little waist as your heat brushes against his cock. “Has it alleviated some of your… need, my child?”

He’s smirking at you, in a way no priest should! You sigh then, shaking your head. “No, Father, it’s only made it worse! You must help me more, I’m afraid now I’m thinking of sinning even more, and who I’ve been dreaming of.” You say then, it’s a whisper, as the room is hot from your breaths, smelling like sweet arousal.

Satoru blinks then, thin white brows going together, jaw clenching. “You’re thinking of fucking your own priest? That is a sin.”

“I know! It’s a terrible affliction. Oh Father, I’m going to hell.” You whisper, blinking back tears, still reeling from the aftershocks of cumming. Satoru arches his hips now, brushing his cock against your pussy, and you nearly scream out, head falling back, exposing your throat to him, and he pictures his hand wrapping a rosary around your neck, pulling tight.

You’ve dreamt of him too!? Surely this must be a sign.

A temptation.

But does he want to fight it? Your taste is all over his mouth now, as he feels your sexy little body against him, his hands brushing against your breasts, watching your nipples perk up. You look at him with intoxicated eyes, lips parted, your tiny hands clinging to his robes as you grind again, and he shudders at how fucking good it feels, your heat on him.

“I see… Well you must come to me tomorrow, and we will have to try harder, to save your soul.” He says huskily, you nod eagerly, as he helps you off him, his cock close to cumming, already twitching, he slides your soaked, ruined panties into his robes, you surely do not need them anymore.

“What if I have another dream father!”

“Do not touch yourself, I will help you when you come in, that’s so we can try to save you, yes?” You nod then, leaning close to his lips.

“Father, is it a sin to kiss your lips?”

“Not if you feel a calling, surely God wishes you to.” He murmurs, and you peck a sweet kiss on his lips, tasting yourself on him, before forcing yourself out of the cramped quarters, body on fire, leaving Satoru to finish stroking his cock, cumming as he shoves your panties against his face.

******

You’re dreaming of him again, of Father Gojo, this time his snowy white hair is brushing against your thighs, his tongue is lapping up all the dripping wetness, his big hands pressing into the plush of your thighs. You wake up throbbing, crying out, seeing how wet you are, as the ceiling fan whirls, failing to cool your overheated flesh. Father Gojo’s fingers made it worse, your affliction!

The next day you’re painfully turned on, pussy aching for more, you followed his instructions and did not touch yourself, instead you forced yourself to go back to sleep, now you’re in the nearly empty church, knocking at the door of Father Gojo’s office. You hear his deep voice speak.

“Come in.” You nervously walk in, you are wearing a shorter blue sundress today, and no panties. You know Father Gojo will see how sinful you are, but when you see his perfect face, and him wearing a thinner, lighter white robe, your pussy is already making your thighs sticky. “My child, lock that door, so we can have privacy… we would not want your confessions judged.”

“Yes, thank you Father.” You lock the door with a click, stepping to him, your heels clicking on the wooden floor of his room. He’s sitting in his chair, fingers steepled, studying your body carefully.

“Do you have any updates on your affliction, pretty girl?”

“Pretty girl…” You’re blushing worse now.

“I feel I must call you what the lord is telling me. Is that alright with you?” You nod nervously, standing before him, the desk separating you. “So how were your dreams last night?”

“They were of you again, Father Gojo. I’m so sorry!”

You cover your face in embarrassment, hearing the soft thumps of his shoes as he comes to you, taking you by your wrists, big hands enveloping the delicate wrists entirely. Your head tilts back to look at him, he’s so tall and big… you’re drinking in the sight of him, his black rosaries hanging across his broad chest.

“You must tell me these dreams, so I may help you. Perhaps they’re some sign that we must see.”

“You… you were licking me, between my thighs.” His nostrils flare slightly, those swirling blue eyes thirsty as he studies you, your thighs shift, his hands still tight on your wrists.

“Your slutty little pussy, I was licking it?” Your pussy is clenching, tummy coiling, at his nasty, sinful words, from such a pure man. You nod then. “I see, there’s no choice, we must see what enacting your dreams does. To try to save you.”

“Y-yes, father, I think so too.” You whisper, hands sliding up and down his chest, watching his Adam's apple bob under that white collar. “Does it ever get uncomfortable, Father Gojo?”

“At times. Take it off for me.” He turns and you undo the collar, when he turns back you see it, his strong neck, the muscles corded, you bite your lower lip, earning him pulling it from your teeth. “This dream, describe it, so I can help you.”

You’re a flustered mess, especially after his fingers yesterday, and all the dreams you’ve been having. You take several breaths now. “You were licking me.”

“More descriptive.” He murmurs now, sitting you up on his desk, shocking you, then he slides up your skirt and smirks, wicked priest that he is, blue eyes darting back up to yours. “No panties, your soul is so slutty.”

“I… well… Father Gojo!” Satoru’s rubbing your clit with his thumb, watching you writhe on his desk now, as he sits back in his black chair, scooting up, his breath right against you.

“You wanted this, to be bare in front of me, didn’t you pretty little sinner?”

“Y-yes, I told you, I’m going to hell, mmm!”

He’s kissing your thighs, your hands enwrap in his silky white hair now, his breaths higher and higher, eying your perfect, glistening pussy. He’s dying to feel you dripping down his tongue, dying to drink your sweet nectar flowing when he’s opening up the lips of your pussy, and you’re making those pretty sounds, you’re so pathetic already, he thinks.

“No, I will save you, don’t you believe in me, pretty? I alone speak for God, I’m the honored one.” His words along with his eyes, those glittery blue storms that see right through you, as if they know your every sin, wreck you now. He surely must be the honored one.

“You’ll save me, I know you will.” You whisper, caressing his cheek now, and he moans softly, just urging you on more.

“That’s a good girl. Now tell me, what did I do in this dream?”

“You licked me, here.” You touch your slit, and he slides his tongue up it now, making you gasp, his tongue is so hot and wet, you’re gushing just from that. Satoru moans, kissing right over your clit before swiping his tongue again. “Father!”

“Shh, lest they hear your sinful mouth.” He whispers, and you clench your teeth, nodding as you watch him, he is placing your feet on either arm of his chair. “And you did not play with yourself?”

“I swear I did not, Father Gojo! I listened. Please…” You arch your hips up, full pussy in his face, and Satoru begins to devour you now, spreading your lips and flicking his tongue on your little swollen clit over and over. You have to slap a hand over your mouth, his rosary is cool against your inner thigh as he works your pussy, just like your dream.

Satoru’s tongue is wicked, for such a holy man you think, and it does the most wicked things to you, no dream could prepare you, even his fingers had not. He sucks your clit into his hot open mouth, moaning as your juices coat his tongue, looking up at you as you cling to his hair with one hand, the other muffling your cry as you feel yourself begin to cum.

Soon you are cumming right on Father Gojo’s face, your thighs shaking on either side of his head, pussy pulsing around nothing, and he’s drinking you up, so lewd in the quiet church office. You’re jerking now, as he leans up, half his pretty face shining with your slick, making you flush at how much there was. Your hand eases down, now just gasping for breath as you look at him.

“And now, my child, how is this affliction?” He whispers, leaning up and laying atop you, pressing you into the wooden desk. You lean up, kissing him once more, earning his moan, tasting yourself all over him, he grabs you by the throat then, long fingers wrapping as he pulls back. “How hard do I have to work to save your slutty little soul, hmm?”

“I’m sorry, Father Gojo. It was so amazing… but I just want more, I fear I’m having more lustful thoughts of you now.” Your hand slides down now, cupping him where he’s thick and hard, and he squeezes your throat harder now, his thumb on your racing pulse.

“And what else is in that little brain of yours? What lewd fantasies of your priest, hmm?”

“Sucking your cock, that’s what.” He groans now, pulling you down and putting you to your knees. You look up eagerly, now Satoru is undressing, and you finally get glimpses of his body, of hard muscles and planes as he’s taking off his robes, now opening his pants for you, revealing a huge, thick cock. You gulp as you drink in the sight of it.

“And do you know what to do, how to serve me, my child?” He asks, you shake your head. “Yet you’ve dreamt it?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then it’s surely meant to be, hmm? First, slide down your top.” You do as he says, and he moans as he sits back in his chair, gripping your bare breasts. “My God,  you’re made to ruin me. Come here, open your mouth.”

You do as he says, and Father Gojo now guides you by your hair, hair he wraps around his fist, guiding you down on his cock. His curved pink tip is leaking white pearly substance, which you tongue out, earning his grown, his head falling back. You suck him eagerly, swirling your tongue, as his eyes watch you, lidded and dazed, tasting his saltiness and sweetness eagerly.

“You’re far too good at this, are you sure you haven’t been sucking cock, like a sinful brat?” You pull back with a pop, saliva dripping down your lips.

“No, I only want to serve you, Father.”

“Mmm, you’re so precious.” He whispers, before shoving your mouth back on him, and you’re bobbing up and down as he pulls your hair, using it to glide you up and down his length. Your eyes water, your nose starts running as his cock is choking you, your pussy throbbing even more. “Fuck…”

“Father, did you cuss?” You ask, pulling back, with a shy little grin, earning Father Gojo’s smirk.

“I’m allowed to, it’s all God’s words. Now are you finally satisfied, or do we need to go further? Do I need to break your pretty little pussy?” He murmurs, his words like a drug, running his thumb across your lower lip. You nod then, weakly, and his lips part, eyes studying you. “Then ask me, on your knees so pretty, like you’re praying.” He puts your hands in prayer position, blue eyes lighting up.

“Please, break me, Father Gojo.” He pulls you up now, kissing you deeply, tongues so unpracticed and messy, you’ve never really even kissed, but now you feel him, filling you once more with those two fingers as he bends low.

“Turn around and bend over, sweet sinner.” You turn, and now Father Gojo has slid your dress down, leaving you in just your heels, his big hands gliding down every line and curve of your bare body. “I said bend over.”

He smacks you sharply on your backside, making you gasp then whine out, as he presses your upper back between your shoulder blades, your face against his desk. He then takes your hands, putting them behind your back and wrapping them with his black beaded rosary. You whine out at the sensation, he pulls it so tightly it’s digging in, shoving the cross in your palms.

“Hold on to that cross while I fuck your innocent little pussy. Feel it against your skin as I do.” He says, whispering in your ear. You nod, feeling the sharp cool silver digging in, as the beads dig into your bound wrists. “Good girl, spread those thighs.”

You do as he says, and then his tip is in, stretching you, and you’re shivering, breaths coming faster and faster. Satoru shoves his cock inside you, tearing at your little barrier. You cry out at the pain, and he pauses for a moment, moaning, letting you adjust. “H-hurts…”

“Just a moment of pain to fill you with my light.” He murmurs, sinking deeper, and your walls are fluttering around his cock, earning his groan. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you? Did you want me to take it, your innocence?”

“I’ve w-wanted you, so long… played with… a long ah- time.” He moans now, sliding back out and in, you’re so wet and ready the pain eases quickly, as he takes you from behind now, pulling on your neck, pressing your bound hands firmer against your back, whispering in your ear.

“You sinned so long, playing with this pussy thinking of me?” You nod weakly, hiccuping on a cry as he’s pumping now, taking you over, stretching your tight cunt out so much, your skin burns, but you crave it.

You’re going to hell, surely.

But it seems worth it to be stretched by his cock so well.

“Y-yes… a long time. S-sorry Father…”

“Just Satoru when you cum all over my cock, hmm?” You nod weakly, then he fucks you harder now, thighs smacking your skin, his pelvis smacking your now sore ass cheeks, balls smacking your clit. “Ah, and you’re close already and your first time? You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Satoru!” You scream out so loud he’s palming your mouth with his huge hand, taking over your face, shoving his cock in and rolling his hips, making you climax so hard you cannot see. You weakly drool out of your lips onto his hand, as he feels your velvety walls fluttering around him.

You are made for this, for his cock, to take him. Your sweet virgin pussy is getting so filled by Father Gojo’s huge cock, but you’re already taking him so well. Father Gojo knows then that your dreams and his must be for a better purpose, to fuck you and fill you with all of his light, surely. You’re taking him more and more, cumming so hard your cunt is drooling everywhere.

He lets your face go, looking at your fucked out expression, your mouth is wide open, that drool dangling out the corner, your eyes are rolled back, lashes fluttering, your ass arching up for more. You’re such a sinful creature, but he knows your innocence was made for just him, clearly. You would not have anyone else, he would surely see to it.

It’s God's calling.

You’re pounded and stuffed by his huge cock, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, ass jiggling with the force, then Satoru pulls your chin to face him, he’s so fuzzy, you keep shutting your eyes.

“Look at me, my child, now.” He whispers, and you open your eyes, staring into his weakly as his thrusts slow.

“Y-yes, Satoru…” He moans at the use of his name from your pretty lips.

“I’m saving you, through… mmm… God’s wisdom.”

“Thank you, thank you!” You’re trembling, he’s rolling his hips and that tip is dragging on your spot, you struggle to focus on his pretty face, the sun from the blinds filtering in behind his head, and then he looks like an angel. The cross is digging in so much your hand is bleeding just a bit, but you truly couldn’t care, his cock feels too good inside you.

“Do you want me to… fill you…” He’s crying out then, grabbing you so tightly you can’t breathe. “With God’s love… and light?”

“Please, fill me Father- ah!” Satoru starts pumping faster and faster, yanking on your rosary so hard it breaks as he begins to cum, the beads flinging and clattering all over the wooden floor, the cross still digging into your broken palm.

“Going to put… so much… light in you… fill you-” He moans loudly then, and you feel hot liquid pumping inside, bringing you to cum with him, as it coats your walls, hot and sticky. “Feel it? Feel me filling you with it?”

“I do! I do… Father Gojo… feel it.” You whine out, rolling your hips to milk him for every bit of his hot white ropes.

“Oh… Mmm…” He’s pumping more cum inside you now, but you’re so wet and still convulsing, so it’s dripping down his cock with your arousal. Satoru exhales, pulling out and then wiping you up, turning you gently, gulping as he kisses you once more. “You were sent here to destroy me.”

“Father, I’m afraid… I only want to do it more.” You whisper, he groans, cupping your face, as you bring up your hand to him, where the cross has left red marks on your palm, he traces it, the perfect symbol of the cross, with little blood drops streaking. You wince in pain.

“I see, it’s a sign we must continue.” He says, and you nod eagerly, as he holds your hand in his.

“We must, Father Gojo.”

*****

The next Sunday, you’re sitting in the very front for the sermon, watching as Father Gojo is licking a thumb and turning a page, his blue eyes darting to your thighs, today you’re wearing a pink summer dress. Father Gojo has stolen a pair of your panties, he thinks you don’t notice, but you do, so you decide not to wear any again, opening your legs for a moment.

Father Gojo gets a glimpse of your bare, glistening pussy right in that church, making his cock hard in front of a room full of hundreds of his followers. Luckily the brown stand in front of him covers up such evidence, as he looks over at your face when you cross your sexy legs, you smile up at him, blinking innocently.

But you’re not innocent, not anymore, are you? No, you’re the worst sinner he’s tried to save, and he thinks he’ll have to work harder to save you. And when you’re riding his cock in the confessional later that evening, and he’s biting on your breasts, you’re riding him so well, moans muffled in the tiny room, he’s not sure he can save you truly, you’re too full of sin.

Father Gojo enjoys your slutty soul and your soaking wet pussy on him far, far too much, especially filling you with his cum light.

Serving Father Gojo is perfectly fine, it's God's will after all 🙏 Nanami and Geto drabbles coming some time too <3 Reblog if you're a sinner <3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60569476