#sinner the pastor says | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lisired · 7 months ago

Text

the devil’s cup

pairing: demon!haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), demons/underworld, mentions of death and self-destruction, unprotected sex/breeding (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), edging, very slight degradation

summary: In a world where humans and demons are separated by earth and the unknown, you’re curious about the creatures that most mortal beings are too frightened to investigate. More specifically if they can please you sexually. As they say, curiosity killed the cat.

wc: 6.8k (this is the shortest fic I’ve done in a minute)

a/n: quick (and short) write! as always, feedback is appreciated!

There was a bit of division between the upper and underworld.

That said, that never prevented the interaction of humans and infernal spirits. It only limited them, though even with said inhibitions in place, forbidding could only go so far within mortal control.

Not everyone was god-fearing. Least of all demons.

Though you weren’t exactly fearless, you were curious to a fault. Human knowledge of the underworld was limited. You lived in a world where plenty of supernatural beings - werewolves, faes, vampires and the like - coexisted in an integrated society, but demons lived in an unexplored world of their own.

Which, obviously, was the underworld.

The church insisted it was for your own sake. You had practically never mentioned your intrigue to anyone, though that was chiefly because you were terrified to. The pastors were passionate in their sermons, deeming anyone who played with the devil a sinner beyond redemption and a betrayer of faith. You knew you’d be thrown scornful glances in an instant.

You weren’t the only curious one. There were plenty groups of people who conjectured about the underworld and its occupants. Which was not an option for you for many reasons. First of all, they teetered on extremism. Second, you would undoubtedly be banished from society for so much as breathing near them.

Your only option was your friend. Who happened to be supernatural himself.

Ten laughed. “Let me get this straight. You want to fuck around with the devil?”

You frowned. Though you definitely preferred the ridicule over the comtempt. He, however, wasn’t exactly in the place to mock you. “Come on, Ten. Didn’t you call on a succubus?”

“Correction - you want to fuck the devil.”

“Ten,” you whined.

Ten shook his head. This was hilarious, because you were completely serious. It was also somewhat worrying. Most humans that had toyed with the devil for too long never survived. “Babe, I’m a vampire. Have been for sixty-two years. I’m technically in my eighties. You, sweetheart, are a human. Incubi can kill mortals like you.”

No wonder he tended to act like a cranky grandpa. You folded your arms stubbornly.

The truth was that you were searching for a way to spice up your sex life and strangely enough, a demon sounded like exactly what you needed. You were desperate at this point. The men earth had provided for you were useless. You could count on both hands how many times you had given them a try and were ultimately unsatisfied. You were out of options.

“One time won’t hurt, right?” you asked, batting your lashes. “Please, Ten. I just want to try. I can only die if I do it continuously.”

Ten blew out a sigh. “Woman, you’re insane.”

You whined, “Pretty please? I’ll literally buy you those Starbucks drinks you like everyday for a month. I need this.”

Ten mulled the offer over. On one hand, this was not only dangerous, but deadly. There was a chance that he could risk losing you in the process. But on the other, you were a responsible adult woman. It wasn’t like you would be selling your soul. You’d simply be testing the waters. “Fine. I’ll help you, but you better only do this shit once. I’ve had to bury a friend before. I don’t wanna go through that hell again.”

You lept up excitedly and cheered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you so much.”

“Whatever,” Ten said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be back later with the stuff. And I’m taking it back after tonight.”

Frankly, you couldn’t care less. You knew your best friend was only trying to protect you, and you genuinely didn’t intend on disobeying. You were curious, not stupid. Nor did you have a death wish.

Ten reappeared later that night with the materials necessary to summon a demon. Technically, you could have done it without them, but that would’ve been a much more ineffective, chance-based approach. It also most likely would have taken way longer. According to Ten, the board had a ninety-percent success rate.

He had told you, “Unless you’re like, extremely unfuckable, it’ll work for sure.”

You snorted.

That was how you met Haechan.

Black smoke rose from the ground, wavering murkily with a ghastly noise until it dwindled fainter and fainter. You took a step or two back, holding your breath with curious fear as you waited for the mist to clear.

Once it did, the handsomest man you had ever seen materialized before you.

You audibly gasped. Frankly, you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. His dark hair was slicked back, forehead exposed to the breeze that temporarily coursed through your home, and he was tan-skinned. Like the heat of hell had graced his body.

His pretty lips curled into the utmost smuggest grin. “Aren’t I lucky? I could feel that you would be gorgeous.”

“You could feel it?” you repeated dumbly. In your defense, you were stunned.

The average idea of a demon was a grotesque blood-hungry monster and needless to say, this nameless boy didn’t fit the bill. Part of you was half certain that Ten was pranking you, firm in his decision that it was foolish for a human to engage with a demon. He seemed like a regular, everyday being. Except maybe not. Most men weren’t this beautiful. And his presence was inexplicably strong.

Haechan scoffed, “Yeah? How else do you think I got here? I could feel your energy. It was calling me.”

The room reeled. The air felt different, thicker. Your body lighter. There was an air of danger to this boy with a trace of something else that you were equally drawn to.

Energy. Was it possible that you could feel his energy too?

Given you were in a state of mental narcosis, more or less the effect of his aura, Haechan gleaned you wouldn’t respond and instead approached you. It felt like you were jolted awake when his warm skin pressed to yours, his lips and breath ticking your neck.

“Haechan,” the demon whispered, but it felt like the thrumming of the wind. “That’s the name I want you to say tonight.”

Heat wafted over you. You nodded, because you couldn’t say another word. As if an invisible hand was clasped around your throat.

Haechan coiled an arm around your waist, forcing your back flush against his chest. “Tell me what you want,” he purred. Your thighs were bare and he snagged the opportunity to grope them, free hand leisurely rising higher. For now, they landed squarely at your ass. “So I can help you.”

You swallowed hard. Part of you was afraid, but the other was enticed by the danger. It always had been. Your voice lacked complete confidence. “I… wanted something new. The men here aren’t adequate. I needed something else.”

“Oh?” Haechan cocked a brow and snickered. “Don’t worry about that tonight, baby. I’ll make you forget about everyone except me.”

For a while, you had been at war with yourself, dithering between your options. But Haechan had tempted you. Whatever fight you had abandoned you as he brought you to your bed.

Every alarm in your body was ringing, sirening to you that danger was near at hand, but the soft lulling of his voice abated your panic. The horns were blown, but you were too far gone to hear them.

Haechan lay you at your backside and you swayed like a leaf, throat parched dry when you glimpsed into his eyes. They were red with lust, dark as blood. “Don’t look so scared,” he reproached, but it was of little substance given the smidgen of a smirk you’d seen on his lips.

You were still tongue tied and at a loss for breath, never mind words.

Haechan’s touch wasn’t gentle in the slightest as he came to tear your clothes away, shredding them layer by layer. His fingers skimmed against your body and your skin scorched where he touched you.

Admittedly, it was somewhat true that you were frightened, but this was exactly what you needed to fill the empty chasm of excitement in your sex life. Between thrill and fear, the feeling that coursed through your veins was indistinguishable.

You had cycled through mortals and been left unimpressed each time. There was bad, and then there was decent. You wanted neither. You wanted someone to go above and beyond. They tended to do only enough to barely get you there. If even. You’d seen it all; you wanted mind-blowing.

You shivered at the cool sensation of the air against naked skin, but it was immediately negated by Haechan’s body heat. Still, it wasn’t enough. You whimpered, “Touch me.”

“Eager, aren’t we?” Haechan snickered. “Say please.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Please. I need you to touch me.”

Satisfied, Haechan snatched your panties with a final tear and skirted a hand between your thighs. They were already open and parted, welcoming him keenly.

It was only when you felt his slender fingers scissoring between your thighs did you notice how wet you were. The thought alone had been arousing. The sight of him even more. It was the weaving of those individual factors that had you gathering in his palms like water.

Haechan shook his head with mirth. “Something tells me that you don’t get wet like this too often. Do you, baby?”

The answer to that was so embarrassingly obvious that you wanted to shrink until nothing remained of you. Your cheeks stung. “No. Not really.” The more you thought about it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been so aroused.

If ever.

“Aren’t you a little sinner,” Haechan said and chuckled to himself. Needless to say, he was amused. A pretty girl like you that could most likely have any guy she wanted calling on a demon because the men on earth can’t satisfy her? He was delighted. And almost humiliated on their behalf.

Like the cruel demon he was, he added, “It’s a little pathetic, don’t you think? Getting wet for me when you could easily find a human to fuck.”

You whined, but ironically pulsed around his fingers. Those words were as true as they were humiliating. His fingers coaxed into you with a loud, wet squelch.

Haechan eyed you with the intensity of a ravening werewolf. The likes of you were familiar - pretty girls that were too curious for their own good and went looking into entities where they had no business for pleasure. Never would you be the first or last, though regardless he had a job that he was more than glad to fulfill.

Pleasure played out on your face. That said, you wanted more. You had always considered that maybe you were the problem. Maybe you were the one at fault because you were too greedy, too insatiable. Enough was a word of little subtance to you.

But you noticed a sort of stark divergence here. With your previous conquests, you were unsatisfied because they took pleasuring you as if it were drudgery. This was more or less a job for Haechan, yet in spite of that, he seemed enlivened.

Boys came a dime a dozen. Pleasure like this? It was a luxury far beyond your worth.

“Fuck me,” you whispered. You were even willing to beg, if that was what it took.

“Mm, no. Not yet,” Haechan said, having a good chuckle at the look of incredulity on your face at your expense.

Never had you ever been turned down. It was always you that turned people away. Men that were bound to be disappointments in the sack lined up for you. They never hesitated to take advantage of your desperation.

Haechan curled his fingers, sending every wall of the room reeling. Your pupils dilated when he leaned in, firmly holding your jaw to make you meet his stare. “Human boys don't build you up, do they? They just take what they want and leave. I'm going to take my time with you, baby.”

You doubted anyone had ever uttered anything like that to you before.

His grip slackened. Not many words needed to be exchanged, the two of you content with the sounds of your soft moans and wet cunt filling the air.

The glimmer of mischief on Haechan’s face turned pensive. “Can’t decide how I want to fuck you. What about you, pretty thing - how do you want to be fucked?”

You felt your cheeks warm in response to his question, though you had a contemplative answer. Any additional eye contact would have landed you in an early grave, but you wanted him to take control. Too many times had you had to take the lead because you chased your own pleasure. You were in dire need of relaxation.

And if you were being honest, you'd let him have you any which way.

“From behind,” you replied, clinging to the pretense of indifference.

The mischief returned at the speed of light and Haechan taunted, “Scared to look me in the eyes?”

You blurted, “Can you read my mind?”

“Yes.”

Every functioning gear within you halted and your body slammed on the brakes. Made worse by the serious look on his face.

Then, Haechan erupted with laughter. “Sike.” You were relieved, though not amused. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m not psychic.”

As if to apologize for the massive scare he’d only just now given you, Haechan swept in and pressed a brief yet unnaturally hypnotic kiss to your lips.

You felt like you could die at any given moment, but strangely enough, you liked it.

It was game over when he interposed another finger between your walls, tall and slender. You were plagued by so many emotions all at once that you hardly realized how close you'd gotten in no time at all. Time expedited, but the minutes ticked slower.

You grabbed Haechan’s wrist, fighting for control of his movements, though not that he needed much guidance. It was an act of bad habit, you supposed, but Haechan smirked and let you do as you pleased. For now.

“Haechan,” you whimpered, reminded of the name you were instructed to say.

The man in question eyed you with a lustful awe. It was the first time you’d said his name and brother, was it a delightful noise. He hummed, “Close?”

You bobbed your head. No words needed to be said. The way your entire body responded to his touch as if it was owned by him was enough of an indication.

In a mere instant, you felt empty and desolate, warmth fading into crisp ice without warning. You whimpered, turning to look at the culprit, but met with only a smug smile.

No way in hell had this demon just edged you.

Haechan beat you to a word and explained, “I want you to cum on my dick. Is that alright, princess?”

“Please, hurry,” was your desperate response. You had no protest. You simply needed to feel him as soon as possible.

Haechan had a nice laugh at the sight of you trying to find his hands anew and fuck yourself against them, but retrieved them, bringing his fingers that were coated in your slick to his mouth and sucking them clean. Ironically, you tasted like heaven.

You moaned when Haechan kissed you, his saliva palliative to the ache of the wait and wanting. It took your mind off of the throbbing between your sensitive thighs while he shredded what remained of his clothes. You were so wrapped in his dark magic, a pawn in his devilish game, but you didn’t care. He could destroy you until you were no longer flesh and bones and you'd say, “Thank you.”

Haechan was ready with burning lust and he growled, “Hands and knees.”

You didn’t hesitate to scramble into position, as if he'd punish you for wasting a second of time. Every voice in your mind was subdued and you only listened to the thudding sound of your racing pulse. It screamed even louder the closer Haechan’s body came into yours.

A gasp tore out of you the moment you noticed his cock stretching you open, ceasing the long wait. It was accompanied by another hushed growl, Haechan’s hands finding purchase at your hips. He filled you nice and slow, the pace so agonizing that you were tempted to believe he was testing you for the sake of toying with you.

“Don’t tease. Please,” you begged. “I want you to fuck me - hard.”

Haechan cocked a brow, but made no protest. “Whatever my pretty girl wants.”

You fought for breath when every inch was encased between your warm and wet walls, pulsing around his thick cock. Haechan penetrated you with a hiss at how you swathed around him so tightly.

Your body came alive at the touch of the undead, responding to his body with voracity. Haechan had no intention of restraining himself, ramming his hips into yours vigorously. He set a brutal pace, enough to sate you and your unnatural urges. For now. Your flesh scorched with fever, broiling under his fingertips yet craving more of him, more of the singe. You were indescribably elated.

Haechan seized you to a bruising extent and braced his teeth into your shoulder, effectively smothering a noise. You let out a cry of pain and pleasure, warped together to create some inexplicable sensation.

“So goddamn tight,” Haechan hissed, giving your ass a smack or three. Every thwack sent you clamping even tighter. “You like it rough?”

Between a thread of moans, you whimpered, “Yes.” But the way he drove his cock into you - hurried and ruthless - bundled your head into the mattress, your cries smothered by the pillows.

Haechan latched onto your hair, letting out a hollow, breathy laugh when you moaned. You were so eager to take him, never shying away from his actions.

It was paranormal, like nothing you had ever felt before. You'd yet to discern the invisible shroud of mist that billowed in the air, the spine-chilling gale that swept over you and chaperoned his presence, but you loved it. It kept you on your toes and made you hold your breath. Something to this extent felt forbidden, like you were getting a taste of pleasure beyond human capacity. It was an ethereal and otherworldly type of pleasure.

You felt so light that you could topple over from one breath.

Haechan’s eyes lingered on the way your whole body tremored at the impact of his thrusts, your ass meeting his cock with a slap and your breasts bouncing underneath you. Your body was gradually beginning to be coated in bruises and scratches, remnants of him that would linger even after he was long gone.

You loved that he was rough, loved that he fucked you like there was no tomorrow without overdoing it. He only had one night to give you the best dick of your life and was successful so near in.

Many had tried, but many had failed to fuck you like this. You knew you would be sad to see him go.

“Oh my god,” you cried, your voice given an outfall for speech courtesy of the way Haechan lifted your head by your hair. You were melting into abyss.

Haechan tugged at it a little rougher and demanded, “Tell me you love this.”

“I love it. I love it so much,” you babbled. Your thoughts were revoked. Your body was on fire. You knew one thing and it was the feeling that lit you off and riled you up.

The demon boy smiled. He wasn’t psychic, but he knew how you felt without saying. It was in how your body responsed to his, submitting to his every move. Your body betrayed you, presenting all of your emotions on a silver platter.

Haechan discerned you were near your climax and leaned closer, teeth grazing over your shoulder when he growled, “You’re close.”

It wasn’t a question; you were close. That much was obvious. You could only bob your head, blabbering more hardly coherent sentences that he found amusing.

You fisted the pillows and sheets for dear life, clinging to whatever you possibly could to anchor yourself. You felt like you had been put together solely to be destroyed afresh. As if his intention was to shatter you piece by piece.

In that case, he was doing a damn good job.

If possible, Haechan’s pace became even more merciless. “Let go,” he coaxed surprisingly gently, strumming you to climax with his fingers at your clit. Your body one-hundred percent intended to obey him, unable to defy its urges.

You screamed with orgasm, burying your face into the pillows to smother your cries of pleasure. Tears welled in your eyes, rivulets trickling down your cheeks. Your body felt whole and empty all at once, overcome by an overwhelming sense of relief. Even after you came, you were still pulsing around his cock, eager to get him there.

“Cum,” you begged, still waiting for him. “Please?”

The desperacy in your voice practically finished Haechan then and there, and he grunted, “Fuck.” There was no way he could tell a pretty thing like you, “No.”

Haechan found a bruising grip on your ass to anchor himself and his cock twitched with release inside you, his mouth parting with a series of moans and growls. You whimpered when he filled you, painting your walls with warm cum. Only then did your spent body slacken, collapsing exhaustedly against the sheets.

Haechan flipped you on your back and kissed the corner of your lips. There was something abnormally soporific about the way he tasted, because your eyelids began to weigh more than your body altogether.

“That’s it, baby. Go to sleep,” Haechan whispered, lulling you to sleep with his gentle voice.

There was nothing to fight. Your body lost all strength when you climaxed, and you succumbed to sleep in a matter of mere seconds.

“Atta girl,” was the last thing you heard before pitch black darkness bled into your vision.

When you roused from your sheets in the morning, Haechan was - as expected - no longer there, but traces of last night remained. Your bed was a mess, but you were in shambles, hair tangled on your bed and your body stained with tears, scratches and bruises.

Humorously, though somewhat questionably, only none of his semen was there. You wondered if demons could get humans pregnant.

You were elated, but somewhat disappointed. From the beginning, you were aware that you couldn’t see him again, but after last night, you were desperate. There was no way in hell he could show you a good time to simply never see you again. It was unfair.

The sound of your front door being pounded mercilessly startled you and you jumped out of bed, scrambling to cover your bare body and then rushed to the door.

When you opened the front door, Ten awaited you on the other side.

“You look like hell,” commented Ten offhandedly. You were always in wonder at how vampires could roam in the daylight, but allegedly, it was courtesy of potions and spell work.

“I had a long night,” you deadpanned.

Ten chortled and stepped inside. “I’m sure.”

You shut the door behind the pair of you and led him to your bedroom where your sheets were a disheveled mess on your bed. Last night had left the board on the floor to be forgotten.

Disinterestedly, you plopped on your bed. There was a question billowing like fog in your brain and you feigned your most indifferent tone when you asked, “Will he want to come back?”

Ten thought nothing of your question and shrugged, leaning over to pick up the materials you'd abandoned. “Depends. Demons know these… arrangements get messy. Some care, some like messy. It's not rare. Just in case, I’ll have a witch friend of mine fix a spell to ward evil spirits off.”

“Oh,” you replied, playing innocent. But that wasn’t what you wanted. You dwelled over last night and the thought of Haechan coming back for seconds. You weren’t special, that you knew. Demons of his kind has a nonselect variety to choose from, but you knew only he could pleasure you like that again.

Like he was catching on, Ten added, “It’s not a good idea to give him a chance to get attached. Some demons are bitter and possessive. The moment they want you to be theirs, they’ll hurt you and anyone else who gets in their way in response to a perceived betrayal.”

His warning spooked you, but not by much. You assured Ten that you understood and would leave that night behind you. After all, with all the measures taken, it was out of your hands.

One night became several.

In your defense, you weren’t the one that summoned him. It was because of your energy. He always claimed he could feel you. You frequently laid brooding in your home, yearning for him to return.

And then, he appeared. You knew when Haechan was there and when he wasn't. It was his presence. You could feel it in your chest. You couldn’t explain it, but whenever he was in range, a gust of cool air would sweep over your shoulders and a thick gale would strike your lungs, rendering you breathless.

Haechan materialized in that same shroud of mist, snickering to himself when your startled figure trembled.

You gawked when you saw him in full glory. “How the hell…”

“Your friend isn’t the only one who knows a sorcerer,” Haechan grinned smugly. “I felt your yearning - did you miss me?”

Oh, did you. You had spent the past couple of weeks trying to get yourself off the way that he had, but to no avail. There was only one remedy for you and you were forbidden to have him.

��A little,” you admitted. Though you had a feeling he could see right through you, it was a lot easier to say compared to admitting you thought of how his hands felt on your body every time you touched yourself.

“I think you missed me a lot,” Haechan teased, stepping closer. Meanwhile, you were riveted in place, unable to move. You gasped when his hands browsed up your dress, targeting your damp panties. “Are you saying this isn’t for me?”

You tensed and whined, “Haechan.”

Haechan gave you a smile, the same devilish one he always wore. He slipped your panties to the side and brushed his slender fingers against your dampening cunt. “Tell me you missed me.”

“I missed you. I missed you a lot,” you confessed without hesitation. “I… I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

He cocked a brow and crammed a pair of fingers inside you. “Yeah? You been thinking about me fucking that tight little pussy?”

Your knees were bucking. You needed him more than you’d ever needed anything before in your life. “Please,” you cried. “Please, please…”

The demon silenced you with a kiss that made you feel so light, you almost tipped over. He caught you in his arms and carried you to your bedroom.

When you were finished, Haechan fell heaving at your side and groaned, “You’re always so goddamn tight.”

You giggled. “You love me.”

Like you had said some forbidden word, Haechan switched on a dime and gave you a fair warning. “That’s the snag, baby girl. I can’t love you.”

That you knew, but it stung to hear aloud. You were by no means in love with the demon you'd only fucked on two occasions, but hell, he seemed like the best option. There was a bit of venom in your tone when you responded, “But you fuck me.”

“Yes. Because that’s what I do. I have sex with you needy little humans and drain you to death of your energy. Then the next one comes along and the cycle repeats. I can’t love you because you’re going to die some day, babe. Even sooner the longer you mess around with me.”

You blinked. He was a hell of a lot more forthright than you expected. Haechan was going to fuck you within an inch of your life. Literally.

That was how the cycle began. Haechan informed you of a simpler way to summon him and he began to visit you more often, stealing your nights away. You never mentioned him to anyone. If Haechan didn’t kill you in time, Ten would undoubtedly burn you alive.

You loved spending nights with Haechan, and over time, those moments together bled into days and mornings. More often than not, you would talk the day away, discussing everything under the sun and moon.

Six years ago. Those events culminated in this later two-part dilemma you’d brought upon yourself.

Weeks turned into months. You were growing weaker. The venom was slowly killing you, contaminating your blood far beyond human reclaim.

Additionally, everything the two of you had said about loving each other had gone terribly south. The more you got to know Haechan, the deeper you fell. And watching you fall drastically ill under his influence tore an unfamiliar feeling from his cold heart - fear. Losing you cooled his already icy blood.

Haechan heaved a breath, trying to remain calm. The two of you knew that this would happened, but goddamn, he would have never predicted that he of all people would fall in love. It was almost laughable. “I can immortalize you, but there’s a catch.”

You eyed him expectantly. “Like what?”

“You’ll watch the people you love die,” Haechan said morosely. “Your entire life will fade with your mortality.”

You frowned. That was a given, but you loathed the thought of that day. No matter how far in the future it may have been. There were always immortal beings to befriend at your disposal, but the current mortal ones - your family - would pass on without you.

But even more, you loathed the thought of them having to bury you. You would take the pain in sacrifice if it meant they never had to feel the empty ache of lost.

“Okay.”

Haechan shot you a look. “Okay, as in what?”

With shaky hands, you blew out a breath and told him, “I’ll do it.”

Haechan interlaced your fingers between his and pulled you close. The last thing he wanted was to lose you, but he also wanted you to do this completely out of your own free will. “Are you sure? This isn’t some reversible shit. No take backs.”

“I would rather bury my family than have them bury me,” you whispered fiercely. It was all you had the strength to do. “I made this mess, now I have to fix it. I can’t let them be miserable over a stupid mistake I made. I won’t.”

Instead of recoiling from your slight outburst, Haechan held you even firmer. It was a sensitive spot for the both of you. There were available alternatives, none long-term. This was by far your safest option.

Death was not an option.

“If this is what you want,” Haechan said, like he was giving you one final chance to reconsider your choices. But you were firm in your decision. This was the price that you had to pay. “Everything will be okay. Baby, I swear.”

God, you wanted to believe him with everything you had, but you were terrified. For as long as you'd known him, Haechan had always been more calm and self-controlled than you ever were, but even now you could see cracks in his demeanor. He wanted to be strong for the both of you, knowing you would shatter the moment he did, but this had him rending at threat of rupture.

Haechan lowered himself to your height to be eye-level with you and asked, “Can you get dressed?”

You bobbed your head. You weren’t completely deprived of your vigor. Not yet, although you had been passing through the days on preservation potions and the like. They could sustain you temporarily, but not for very long.

The demon boy you loved brought you to a secluded area in the woods, timing your errand perfectly. Before dusk was preferable. Evil creatures lurked in the wilderness, preying on vulnerable humans like you. Not all were fond of humans and vice versa.

And you were already ailing.

There was a tiny cabin across a river, lying at its bank. According to Haechan, it was home of a wizard.

“Your friend’s a wizard?” you had asked.

Haechan nodded. “Basically. But Mark prefers being called a warlock. Apparently, wizard is an offensive term that’s only used in fairytales. I still call him Wiz, though.”

You gave him a tiny nod. Many if not most magical beings lived in areas isolated from humanity. There was long, unaccounted for history between the two races and you couldn’t blame them for any resentment.

But it also presented the fair chance that he wouldn’t want to help you.

Haechan opened the door to the cabin and you treaded behind him like he was safeguarding you. There was a man behind a cauldron that billowed with green smoke.

You took a glance around. The cabin was dim, sunlight filtering through the blinds of a single window upstairs. Candles and lanterns burned, scattered elsewhere. The warlock spared you not a glance, engrossed in his brewing, though you noticed a crystal ball on the table, reflecting a perfect view that overlooked the bridge.

It most likely had warned him someone was approaching.

Haechan put on his cheesiest smile and greeted, “Sup, Wiz. Been working out lately?”

Mark slammed on the brakes and bristled. “Hell no. Whatever you want - the answer is no.”

Your demon boyfriend frowned, walking beside his friend to give a slight nudge to his side. “C’mon, bestie. I didn’t even ask for anything.”

Mark didn’t waste a second. “I know. And every time you compliment me, it’s only because you want something.” Then, the warlock shifted his gaze and seemed to finally notice you. “Who’s the chick - new piece?”

Haechan rubbed his neck. “Yeah, about that…”

“Haechan, hell the fuck no,” Mark interjected as soon as he put the pieces together. “You know you have to talk to Johnny about that.”

“See, that’s the thing. Johnny will kill me. And I’m technically already dead,” Haechan joked, trying to ease the mood.

You swallowed like you could gorge all of your burdens with one gulp. Part of you was ready to accept that death was inevitable and tinkering with your fate was deadly. As a spirit from the underworld, maybe you could meet the boy you loved again, but you’d fade into a distant memory to everyone else you loved.

Mark removed his spectacles and massaged his temple before he sighed. “Do you love her?”

“Yes.” It was instant. He didn’t even need to consider it. That made you smile.

“Like, for real?” Mark pressed. Like he was in disbelief. “I can’t waste time and casting energy on a pretty girl you just want to keep around for a little longer.”

Patience slowly dimming, Haechan snapped, “When have I ever cared if they lived or died, Mark?”

You came to clutch his arm, and Haechan softened, switching on a dime. Much to Mark’s surprise. Even he couldn’t deny that you seemed to have an effect on Haechan - a grip that no else had.

Haechan took a deep breath. “Look, my bad. But she’s special. I don’t know how it happened, it just did. And it would be easier to do a cord-cutting spell and toss her away, but I don’t want that. I want her.”

A strained moment of silence passed before Mark finally groaned, “Fine.”

“So?”

“So, I’ll do the spell,” Mark said stubbornly.

It felt like a weight was lifted from your chest and you could breathe easier when those words left his mouth. You watched Haechan’s face twist with relief, and he whirled you into his arms, hauling you with a supernatural strength that made you squeal and giggle. “Fuck. I forgot you’re not yourself,” he said and placed you back on the ground.

You shook your head and smiled. Then, Haechan turned back to Mark with open arms and smirked. “Come here.”

Mark grimaced. “Absolutely not. I’m warning you. Come any closer and I’ll get Phantom.”

“Phantom?” you repeated, blinking.

Mark whistled, and suddenly you heard a low caw fill the air. Then, you saw a creature fly from the single window at the speed of light and finally come to a rest at Mark’s shoulder.

It was a raven.

“My familiar,” Mark explained proudly. “Every warlock - and witchtress - has one.”

Ignoring the way the raven - Phantom - was staring down your soul, you gave a quick nod and asked, “So, we’re really okay?”

“Yes. I’ll work on a spell for you as soon as possible,” Mark replied.

Haechan smiled and swept you into a kiss, then Phantom immediately began to caw as if she was trying to wake the dead.

Haechan snickered and put his arms between you both. She was very prone to attacking. “Ladies, ladies. No need to fight. There’s enough Haechan to go around.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. But you were happy. You still had Haechan, and you always would. Nothing would come between you. Death or Phantom.

Five years ago.

Now, you were alive and well. And not only you, but someone else.

After hours on your feet, you had never been more relieved to sit down. Ten eventually came to accompany you, having a good laugh at the weariness prominent on your face at your expense.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Try exhausted. I’m ready to drop,” you drawled.

Ten laughed, then shook his head and smiled faintly. “Tell me how it’s been exactly four years and I still can’t believe I’m a godfather?”

“Please,” you chortled. “They’re growing up so fast. I can’t keep up.”

You had discovered the answer to a previous thought. Demons could get humans pregnant. As it turned out, you also had to confess to Ten that you’d been sleeping with Haechan for longer than he'd thought. After all, the evidence had been growing in your belly for nine months.

Not one child, but two.

Ten gave you a tiny nudge. “Haechan really did a number on you.”

Through the corner of your eye, you could see him approaching and joked, “Speak of the devil.”

Haechan plopped down beside you, head in your lap, and said, “I’ve never had to work for anything in my life before those two.”

You and Ten giggled. “Get off me, you big baby,” you said lightheartedly. “Who has them?”

“Your mother,” Haechan replied, not budging like a boulder.

Or so he thought. You were both caught off guard when your two four-year-old twins eagerly came running after you, refusing to give their mommy and daddy a break.

Ten came to the rescue and leapt up, exclaiming, “Who wants cake?”

As expected, your two tiny twins turned around as soon as they came, shouting, “Me!” Gratefully, you mouthed, “thank you” to Ten, who led the little army away to dessert.

Haechan climbed into the seat beside you, and said, “We made this.”

“We did,” you replied, beaming. “And I love every part of it. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Me neither,” Haechan said, pressing a kiss to your lips. Now that the coast was clear, a mischievous smile crept onto his lips. “So, I was thinking that once we put the kids to bed, we could have our own little party upstairs.”

God, that sounded like heaven to you right now. “Say no more.”

Haechan snickered and lifted you into his lap. You rested your head against his lap comfortably. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you said, a smile tugging your lips.

Those three words summed up everything. There was so much you wanted to say. You wanted to tell him that you always wanted a family with him, that you wouldn’t have it any other way. That you knew in your heart that this was the way it was meant to be. But you settled for, I love you. And you settled because he already knew.

“As much as we fuck, we should have expected twins.”

Those words snapped you out of your train of thoughts and you stood to your feet. “Save it. We have a birthday party to celebrate.”

Haechan followed you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Yes, ma’am. Mind if we go hit the dance floor in celebration?”

“Not at all,” you told him.

And it was easily the most magical moment of your life being twirled around in Haechan’s arms, the rest of your little family soon coming to join you both.

#lee haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream x reader #nct smut #nct imagines #nct x reader

489 notes · View notes

narcoticv3nus · 1 month ago

Text

Catch a Ride to Heaven ❤︎ Arthur Morgan

Kinktober Day IV: Virginity

summary: rebellious reader is a sinner for her cowboy tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, virginity loss, p in v, praise, fingering, religious symbolism, cherry popping, midhonor!arthur, smoking, dom!arthur, sub!reader, rough sex, a bit of degradation, pet names, author attempts at accents wc: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

“Ma’am”

You looked up from your bible sitting on your lap, noticing a rather large man standing before you. His shoulder-length brown hair cascades down, framing his rugged features and intense blue eyes. A short beard adorns his handsome face, emphasizing the scar on his chin. Despite his rugged appearance, his smile reveals straight white teeth, complementing his sun-kissed skin with charming freckles. His well-worn cowboy hat had seen better days, colored black with a weathered rope tied around the middle and what looked to be claw marks running down the sides.

“Good morning, mister,” you answered, fiddling with the cross around your neck, trying to tame the sinful thoughts running through your mind. You had come to notice this man from afar. He would stop by your little town now and again, whether that was to buy guns or sell a suspicious amount of items at the fence nearby. Your eyes always followed him. You couldn't help it, although you tried to pray the feelings away many times. God never answered your prayers.

Your daddy was the local pastor. He was always smiling and friendly, claiming he prayed for every person he came across. He was a good man, always going out of his way to serve others. It seemed God had given him the gift of spreading his love all over, yet it seemed to run out when it came to you.

Your daddy had always been hard on you after your mama passed. Your brain was too young to remember much of her, but you could still remember the sound of her voice in your ears and the soft, comforting scent of her clothes.

Daddy said it was because he loved you; he was so strict, which you never really understood. Anytime you made a mistake or a mishap, Daddy would sharpen you back into shape, sometimes going to extreme measures. The bruises on your behind still stung when you sat down.

He never permitted you to be alone around other men, claiming you had to stay pure in the eyes of God or else you'd burn in hell for all eternity for spreading your legs for no-goods. He said men only wanted one thing, but he never specified what. It didn't take you long to figure it out. You were a smart girl. At least, that's what everybody said.

You didn't feel smart now as Daddy’s teachings drifted from the back of your mind like a cloud of smoke, thoughts of purity and maidenhood be damned. God knows you tried to resist them, and you really did. To push those thoughts aside, burn them, shut them out as much as you could.

But wouldn't he have answered your prayers if God were all-loving? Heaven knows you wanted to be a good girl. You did, truly! But there was something about this man that had your body growing warm, his deep southern drawl reaching into deep parts of you you never even knew existed. He had your voice growing shy, your hands feeling clammy as your thighs pressed together, desperate to soothe that sweet ache between your legs.

Sometimes, he would compliment you, saying he liked your dress or how you style your hair.

“May I say you're lookin’ lovely' today, little lady.” You swallowed deeply, your lips parting as you gazed up at him, eyes wide. “Thank-thank you, mister,” you stammered, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“You…you're awfully kind.” You continued, not being able to help yourself. How could you stay away when you yearned for him so deeply?

“I ain’t really,” he answered bluntly, his eyes boring deep into yours, the corners of his lips twitching into a grin. You've seen that same look on many men before, but only he had your heart racing with want.

“Maybe just to pretty ladies like yourself,” he continued, his hand reaching up to scratch his stubble chin.

If your face wasn't on fire before, it sure was now. You didn't know what to say as you began to stutter, sweat building between your legs and inside of your bodice. “I don't—” Your fingers curled around your cross, praying to God to give you strength or show mercy.

“What’s your name anyway?” He spoke up for you, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a pack of premium cigarettes. He placed the stick between his lips as he held the lighter close to his face, raising a brow when you lacked a response.

You gave him your name. Your eyes were bashful as they looked down at his shoes, noting the quality of the leather and his metal spurs.

“Ain't that lovely,” he responded, gray tendrils of cigarette smoke escaping his nose, his eyes never straying from your face.

“What’s yours?” you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady as your subconscious body seemed to float away, high into the sky and never to be seen again. You've never felt so euphoric. If it was wrong, how come it felt so right?

“Arthur,” he answered, tapping the ash from the end of the stick away into the dirt. “Arthur Morgan,”

“Well, it… it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan,” you said politely, part of you hoping to appease him. It seemed to work as his grin grew wider, his teeth poking out from behind his pink lips.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes looking you up and down. “You too,” he said, emphasizing your name before exhaling another cloud of smoke. You bit your lip to hold back the whine building in your chest. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. I just wanted to put a name to a face s’all.”

You wanted to tell him, no, to please stay, just a little longer. And yet you only watch in silence as he dipped his hat to you before turning and striding in the other direction. You watched him go, eyes drifting low to his backside, appreciating the natural sway of his hips as he left.

My Lord, please give me strength.

You and Arthur had met several more times after that. He'd sometimes saunter up to you after church, asking about your day and flirting with you right in front of the house of God, sometimes even in front of your Daddy.

Daddy had given you a good whooping after that, reminding you to stay away from that man if you know what's good for you. But you just couldn't, no matter how hard you tried. Lord knows you did.

But like Eve and the serpent, Arthur offered you the tastiest treat you couldn't refuse. Why did it feel so good if these feelings were so condemned? You started questioning your faith the more Arthur lingered around, and you started to fear for your sake. Maybe he was no good after all. Perhaps this was all a test.

But no horns were sprouting from the outlaw’s head, no devil’s tail swaying mischievously behind his back, he had no red eyes, and no white fangs. And despite what the poets might say, he had no slimy forked tongue. And you would know, counting how many times your eyes had fallen to his mouth as he spoke. Each time his tongue ran over his lips, yours would do the same.

There came a time when he placed a hand on your shoulder, leaning close to your face when he asked to buy you a room somewhere for the night. His cold eyes burn through you. You knew you should've said no, refused the forbidden fruit, and asked him to leave you alone for good. You were a child of God, blessed without sin, and designed for purity. But those would all be lies. No one is without sin. You thought as you nodded, your breath shaky and your cheeks stained red.

Daddy will raise hell. You reminded yourself, but it was already too late. You sealed your fate when you decided to shake hands with the devil.

As Arthur led you up the stairs, his hand entangled with yours, his heavy footsteps echoed throughout the hotel, the wooden floors creaking under his weight.

He opened the door for you to enter the small and empty room, the hair rising on the back of your neck as he followed close behind you. “Arthur, I—” you stammered when it dawned on you, realizing what you were about to do.

“Shh, don't be nervous,” he soothed as a heavy hand rested on your hip, sliding up your waist. “I’ll take good care of you,” he reassured, gently removing his hat and placing it on the night table beside the bed.

Like a predator circling its prey, he stalked around your body until he stood in front of you, both hands on your hips as he smiled down at you. He was so close. You almost let out a whine of fear, eyes glued to his teeth to ensure he didn't have fangs, just in case.

“I promise I don't bite,” he chuckled, almost like he could read your thoughts. Maybe he could. He leaned close to your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Unless you want me to.”

You couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped you, anxiety and desire twisting and churning in your stomach, leaving you speechless.

“I've never…” Your voice trailed off, the words getting lodged in you as Arthur hummed in response, seemingly unsurprised.

“I figured,” he chuckled, confirming your suspicions. “Sweet, innocent things like you usually are,” he grinned, flicking the cross against your chest. You weren't sure what to make of that.

“We just won't tell ‘em, ay?” he let out a huff of amusement, reaching back to unclasp the necklace around your neck.

“Wait,” you halted him, gazing at his confused expression. “I…I want to leave it on,” you murmured, eyes drifting downwards, hoping you hadn't disappointed him. You weren't sure why you wanted it to stay; it didn't make sense logically. He was right; you should put it away, considering what you were about to do—what you were about to let him do to you.

However, something about it gave you a sense of peace or reassurance: even though you were betraying everything you were ever taught, everything you've ever known, God was still there, and he still loved you. Maybe giving in to your deepest desires could reconnect you to him in some way, that finding pleasure in the most sinful of ways wasn't sinful at all. Wouldn't he want you to feel good if he really loved you? To take what you want?

He was silent momentarily before he removed his hands from your grasp. Here it comes. You thought, eyes shutting, waiting for his disapproval.

His fingers grasped your chin, tilting it upwards, his thumb rubbing softly over your bottom lip. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” his voice cutting through the silence. “You can do whatever you like, darlin’.” his low, warm voice was gentle and consoling, offering comfort instead of pain.

“Thank you,” you breathed a heavy sigh of relief, your eyes gazing up at him with adoration, yet your hands continued clutching your dress, unsure of where to put them.

He hummed again, taking your small hands in his much larger ones, gently urging them towards him. You gasped as your fingers made contact with his skin, like it was the most lewd thing you've ever done. It might as well have been.

“I should be thankin’ you,” he responded, lifting your right hand to meet his lips, kissing your knuckles with a sweet softness you've never known. “Ain’t every day I meet a pretty girl like you.” he charmed, stepping closer towards you, your body stiff with nerves.

“I thought you said you were always nice to pretty girls.” You recollected, thinking back to the time you were first properly introduced.

“Well, I might've lied. Just a bit,” Arthur smirked, chuckling at your shocked expression. “They're not always as sweet as you,” he whispered, his face inching closer to yours. As your noses brushed together, he tilted his face to the side, one hand reaching up to guide your face to do the same in the opposite direction.

“Arthur, I don't know–” “It's alright,” he hushed, his breath hot against your lips. “Just follow my lead, alright?” You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath when he requested you to. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, the thin hairs of his beard tickling your cheeks. “Now, breathe out. Slow.”

As the cool air inside your chest unfurled from your lungs, his mouth pressed against yours. You squeaked in surprise, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips moved against yours. His hands smoothed down your lower back, pushing you closer until his erection was pressing up against your stomach.

You moaned into his lips, your body set ablaze as you struggled to kiss him back, your movements stiff and uncoordinated. He pulled away, a deep chuckle leaving his chest, causing you to squirm in shame.

“Just relax, sweetheart.” he purred, the fingers undoing the top buttons of your dress. “Don't be so nervous,”

“Easy for you to say,” you huffed, watching as his hands descended to each button, opening it with practiced fingers. He laughed, kissing your forehead with a smile. “I know, but just trust me.”

Trust me.

This was the most trust you've ever put in anyone you've ever met in your entire life. Here, this man was undressing you so calmly, like it was the most casual thing in the world. It probably was, to him. How many girls has he been with? You thought almost bitterly, jealousy spiking at him cherishing any other woman like this.

Every man you've ever met has bragged about how many girls he's bedded, whether they were modest wives or working whores, it didn't matter. It didn't matter if the man was handsome or ugly, rich or poor, dirty or clean. They all had the same goal in mind. Maybe Daddy was right. You thought anxiously as your dress fell into a pool around your ankles, leaving you in your bodice. Perhaps you were just another notch under Arthur’s belt. Even Daddy would stumble home with his clothes undone and lipstick stains adorning his neck.

Maybe Arthur is different. Maybe he's a good man.

“What's goin’ on up there,” Arthur asked teasingly, yet concern still laced around the edges of his voice. “If you don't want this–”

“I do!” You interrupted quickly, hands latching onto the front of his shirt, your lips puckering in embarrassment. “Sorry, I–I'm just nervous s’all.”

“I know,” he said, his arms resting against your upper arms, rubbing his calloused hands over your soft skin. “I understand. We’ll take it slow.” He promised, leaning forward to capture your lips in another kiss. He held his lips against yours this time, letting you adjust to him as his fingers deftly coiled around the strings of your bodice, slowly unlacing them one by one.

“S’been awhile myself,” he admitted, hoping to soothe you in some way as he took his time undressing you until you were left in only your bloomers, standing still with your face hot and your lips chewed raw.

“You don't…” you hesitated, wondering if you even wanted to know the answer. “…do this often?” You finally inquired as his eyes filtered over your exposed form. “Nah…” he answered, hands running all along your body.

“Well… once upon a time, maybe.” he grinned at you wickedly, his white teeth gleaming underneath his self-satisfied smirk. He laughed, finding the expression you subconsciously made amusing.

“Don't get all jealous now. It ain't like that anymore.” He promised, unbuttoning his clothes this time, undoing his vest, and taking off his short sleeve. “I wouldn't take advantage of someone like you,” he reassured, undoing his suspenders until he was left in nothing but his pants with his gun belt still sitting heavy over his hips and gun holster attached to his side.

Your eyes roamed to a large expanse of his chest, thick, coarse hair sprouting from his skin and leaving a path down into his pants. “Now,” he started again, your eyes snapping back to his face.

“Go sit on the bed for me,” he commanded, his tone firm yet tender, a heavy hand smoothing over your head. After letting his words sink in, you did as you were told. You knocked off your shoes as you sat at the edge, trying to avoid his gaze. With a simple click, he pulled the gun belt from around his pants and set it down near his hat, his holster following suit.

“Take ‘em off,” he instructed, his eyes studying your face as he undid his belt, waiting for you to undress. You clutched the warm off-white fabric of your clothes, your breaths coming in shaky, knowing you were about to expose your body to a man; you've never felt so vulnerable.

“I won't ask you again,” he threatened, his lips tightening as his eyes narrowed. “I have no problem takin’ you back home.” Just the thought of home had fear swirling in your gut. You'd instead take this than face your daddy. You knew it was unavoidable, but you'd rather it at least be worth it.

You nodded your head swiftly, standing back up to shed yourself of your underclothes until you were left in nothing but a necklace sitting on your naked chest. The cold surface of its metal and the cool air caused your skin to rise in goosebumps, your nipples perking in response.

“Good girl,” he purred, eyes drinking in your naked form with a dark hunger you've never seen. The spurs of his boots clicked as he reached forward, carefully sliding them off before setting them aside.

As you sat back against the bed, your fingers reached up again, clasping your cross, letting its sharper ridges poke against your skin.

“Don’t be scared now,” you gasped as his pants fell to the floor, his cock finally springing free mere inches from your face. Your jaw practically dropped to the floor as you stared. You've never seen one before. Do they all look like that? Are they always this big?

“You okay?” he laughed, strutting towards you, his cock bobbing between his thighs, hanging low towards the floor. Up close, you could see every vein protruding from underneath his foreskin, a strange liquid shining at the tip.

“Um…” you were at a loss for words, unable to look away. “What if it doesn't… y’know,” Arthur tilted his head to the side as he neared, hands on your waist as he urged you back further. “…fit?” You finished with a squeak as your head hit the pillow below, and your hair splayed out behind you.

You peered up at him, curious as his cheeks dusted into a dark shade of pink. Was he embarrassed? Did I offend him? “It’ll fit,” he said, looking away almost bashfully. “Gotta prepare you first,”

Prepare me?

He leaned forward until his forearms rested against either side of your head, trapping you underneath his body. Soft brown hair strands framed his face as he leaned closer, and front pieces fell over his thick brows.

You gazed into his clear blue eyes, deep as the sea, with a warm yellow ring around his black irises, reminding you of the sun’s rays casting light across blue skies. His eyes flickered between yours, seemingly searching for something before his lips connected to yours once more, his hairy chest pressing against your breasts.

Reaching up with shaky hands, you entangled them into his hair, resting them gently in fear of maybe hurting him. “That’s it…” he encouraged, his hand finding yours, interlocking your fingers, and pressing them to the bed.

“Just breathe,” he reminded before kissing you again, his cock twitching against your thigh, subtly rutting against you. You did as you were told: in and out. You thought to yourself as you practiced slow breaths until your heartbeat slowed to a semi-normal pace. “You got it,” he smiled into the kiss before continuing down your neck, rubbing his lips over sensitive skin.

You whimpered, your hand tightening against his as he lowered even further, reaching your chest. He let out a deep groan as he pressed his face against your breast, taking a nipple into his mouth to suck.

You looked down at him in shock, unsure what to do as he began rutting harder against you. Is this what people do? You were so confused, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. He let go with a slow suck, his heavy eyes meeting yours once more.

“Have I sprouted three heads?” he chuckled, worrying his lip with his top teeth. You shook your head, one hand gripping his shoulder to balance yourself.

“I don't… am I doing this, right?” As you whispered, your face flushed with warmth, and you squeezed his hand tightly, seeking comfort.

“You don't gotta worry your pretty little head over nothin’,” he said as his fingers dipped between your bodies, tracing over your thighs before nearing your pussy. You could feel its dampness trickle between your legs and into the sheets, your little pearl throbbing with need.

“You're perfect,” he murmured, his gaze softening into an emotion you've only seen flicker in his eyes and disappear as if it was never there. But this time, it stayed; it settled for you.

You didn't know what to say, so you opted not to speak; the silence spoke for itself as you stared back. The hand in Arthur’s hair cupped his stubble cheek, urging him closer before kissing his lips. He grunted at the contact, his tongue prodding the entrance of your mouth, forcing it to open before it slid inside.

No fork. The thought popped into your mind as Arthur’s tongue slid against yours, massaging the wet muscle with flicks of his own.

The hand against your leg reached underneath your thigh, lifting it around his waist before dipping back between your legs. You gasped into his mouth as his thumb reached underneath your hood, finding your pulsing clit and pressing down, moving in slow and deliberate circles. You moaned out; never once had you felt anything so amazing in your entire life. You had never touched yourself down there before; shame always held you back, and now you regret it.

All those times you refused your aching body with release almost seem abusive looking back now.

“Oh, Arthur,” you gasped into his mouth as he continued, your hips lifting to try and chase the addicting sensation.

“It feels so…” You couldn't even find the words to describe the feeling. It would be useless to try to explain it now.

“Like that?” he groaned, picking up the pace of his movements as his other fingers teased your entrance, coating his calluses in your essence. You nodded, mouth still open as broken whines and whimpers escaped your wet lips. You arched your back, your face falling to the side as you squeezed his hand, nails biting into the flesh of his skin. Arthur didn't seem to notice; if he did, he didn't show it, fully enraptured by your sensitive flesh.

“Christ, you're so wet.” Arthur didn't mean anything by it, but the mention of a name so holy during a time like this had your thighs closing around his forearms, trapping his hand against you.

He was also right. You don't think you've ever been this wet in your entire life. “Don't stop, Arthur.” You pleaded, trying to reopen your legs to give him more room.

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart,” came his husky reply. You sighed at his words, more so the thickness of his voice.

“Wider, darlin’,” he grunted, his middle finger catching onto the rim of your hole. “Gotta stretch you nice and proper, so you can take my cock.”

“Arthur!” you whined, embarrassed by his words, throwing an arm over your eyes. He laughed breathlessly, his movements slowing down. “Thas’ what you want, ain’t it?” He urged his finger, slowly inserting itself as you bucked upwards, trying to chase the dwindling pleasure.

You whimpered in reply, opening your legs further, allowing him to slip his finger in deeper. It was so thick and so warm, your pussy welcoming him with wet pulses as he slowly moved it in and out. The pain was sharp but was slowly replaced as his finger curled deeper, reaching places you weren't aware even existed.

“There’s a girl,” he rasped, eyes glancing between your face and your slippery cunt before adding a second finger. He wasn't deterred by the small amounts of blood coating his digits, only focused on making you feel as good as possible while preparing you to take him.

“You're doing so well.” he sighed, twisting his fingers before spreading them into scissoring motions, completely enraptured as your pussy convulsed around him, spilling more and more slick as his fingers quickened their pace.

The only sound in the room was your deep moans and the sloppy sound of your wet pussy getting fucked by his hand. Arthur shifted his wrist so the edge of his palm rubbed against your sensitive button, curling his hands deep against your G-spot and smirking in triumph once he found it.

“There it is,” he chuckled as he gazed upon your expression. Your thighs slammed closed around his wrist as you arched your back deeply, feeling your spine ache in protest, but you didn't care.

“Ah! Right there!” You squeezed his hand with all your strength as a new sensation built in your stomach. Something was coming.

“Arthur!” You whimpered; your free hand reached towards his wrist, which was now twisting with more force as his fingers pumped faster, harder.

“Wait! It’s—I’m,” Arthur was quick to silence you with another deep kiss, yet you couldn't kiss him back as much as you wanted, your mouth struggling to stay closed as whorish noises forced their way out.

“Just let go, honey,” he groaned, the heel of his palm digging deeper. “It's alright, just let go.” His voice was so thick and coarse, so warm and so rich, so deep and so guttural you couldn't help but fall victim to his spell.

With one final wail, you felt something rush out of you, something liquid but didn’t quite feel like pee. All you knew was that it felt good.

I hope this is what heaven feels like.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your voice growing tight as Arthur continued his pace, helping you ride out your high before eventually slowing, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he could.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moaned, taking in your debauched state with a proud smile. Your hair was in disarray, strands sticking to your sweaty skin as your eyes fluttered, lashes resting against your darkened cheeks, and your eyebrows drawn close. Your lips were wet and rubbed red from his kisses, drool lewdly sticking to the corners of your mouth. Your naked chest heaved, your cross still sitting in between your breasts.

“You alright?” Arthur chuckled, slowly removing his fingers from your wet heat and wiping the mixed residue on the sheets.

“I never wanted it to stop,” you whimpered at the empty feeling inside you.

“I know that's right,” he agreed with a chuckle, squeezing your hand one final time before letting it go. You gazed up at him sheepishly, your hands reaching out to grab his forearms, letting your hands feel the warmth of his skin.

He hoisted your hips upwards, wrapping your thighs around his waist before leaning forward, his palm cupping your cheek before slotting his mouth against yours. Your eyes fell closed as you lost yourself in the kiss, unaware as his hips shifted forward.

With one hand around his cock, he pumped it generously, coating his dick in precum as he guided it toward your entrance.

“Big inhale for me, darlin’,” he requested one final time. You did as you were told, breathing in a large gulp of air before you felt something catch against your rim and push inside, filling you inch by inch as the air caught in your throat.

“And out,” he grunted, pushing his cock to the hilt, forcing himself deep inside, cursing as you clamped around him. He swore he'd felt traps looser than this.

Your exhale was probably closer to a sob. You've never felt so full in your whole life. Although the stretch wasn't nearly as painful as you imagined it would be. There was just so much pressure.

“You're doing good, fuck, just keep breathing.” he panted, barely even able to pull back with how tight you were clutching him. You nodded when trying to focus on his words as his cock throbbed inside of you.

“Good?” he grunted, his face twisted into something akin to pain, his heavy brows pulled forward, his face creasing as his eyes threatened to squeeze shut despite his resistance to keep them open. He sucked on his lower lip, struggling to concentrate as your wet heat pulsed around him.

“It feels… full.”

He groaned in response, thrusting up into you until his pretty cock punched against that spongy spot, causing you to kean, your body squirming, unsure if it wanted to pull away or chase the feeling.

“It's too much,” you whimpered, your hands pushing against his abdomen before he took your wrists in one hand, forcing them above your head as he rocked against you, fucking his cock in and out in slow yet deep thrusts.

“Take it,” he practically growled, his warm gaze turning cold as he towered above you, one hand enclosing around your hip as leverage, manipulating your body up and down in time with his thrusts.

“God, fucking take it,” he accentuated each word with a powerful shove, your skin slapping loudly each time they met. You couldn't even use anything to stabilize yourself, his fist wrapped firmly around your hands, holding them down with ease.

You were forced to take the onslaught of pleasure, tears welling up in your eyes as you cried out with movement, each jamming of his cock against your sore, sensitive pussy.

“Arthur!” you sobbed, your body squirming desperately underneath him, attempting to run away from his battering hips that grew faster with each minute that passed.

“Yeah, say my name,” he moaned, his eyes falling shut as his lips parted, deep pants escaping his chest with every movement. “Go on, say it again,” he reopened his eyes, glaring down at you with a look of something fierce.

“Arthur!” You moaned, pleading with your eyes for him to slow down. He smiled wide, letting go of your wrists, urging you to wrap your arms around his shoulders as he leaned in close, chest to chest.

“Am I being too rough?” he teased, pecking your lips tenderly as he slowed to a softer grind, allowing you a bit of grace.

“It's okay,” you panted, nails digging into the hard muscles of his back, closing your eyes in bliss as his thick cock ruined you for anyone else. “You can go faster… if you want,” you gripped him by his arms, burying your face in his neck, shyly kissing the expanse of his throat.

He let out another deep groan, his hand resting behind your head, pulling you closer as his other curled into the sheets below you, fucking up into you at a steady pace. You held onto him tightly, knowing you wouldn't last much longer.

“It's coming again,” you warned, your voice high-pitched and airy as you struggled to breathe, feeling as though he was fucking into your lungs.

Arthur leaned upwards, letting you fall back onto the bed as he took hold of your waist, his unoccupied thumb pressed down against your clit, rubbing fast circles as he urged you to finish.

“You’re almost there,” he grunted, watching as his cock reappeared before disappearing back inside you, the base coated in your milky arousal.

“You got it, c’mon,”

You reached behind you, fingers curling into the sheets below as you arched in his touch, gasping for air as the sweet pleasure built quicker, coming in faster and harder. “M’so close, Arthur.”

“Yeah, I know,” he cursed, fucking himself deeper, trying to get as much of himself inside as possible.

“I can feel you squeezin’ me,” whines began to escape his lips, sounds you never thought you'd hear him make.

“Does it feel good?” you asked, barely holding on as the thread threatened to break. You watched Arthur’s shoulders shake with what looked to be laughter, his thrusts stuttering before picking back up again.

“Yes,” he dipped his head to the side with a hiss, his thumb pressing harder against your delicate pearl. “Feels so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,”

Something about the nickname did it for you. It was said with affection and lust, smooth as silk and sweet as strawberry wine. Arthur’s voice was thick and rich, slipping into your ears and knocking around in your brain.

You came with his name on your tongue, crying to the heavens above, knowing that even if God has turned back on you now, at least you’ll suffer knowing you were loved in some way by someone. You felt his nose nuzzle into the side of your neck, his hips slowing into something almost romantic.

You felt him place a kiss on your shoulder, almost as a silent apology, before drawing back and slamming forward, fucking you so fast and so deep the frame of the headboard knocked against the wall over and over. You held onto him for dear life as he used you for his pleasure, groaning uncontrollably in your ear.

“Almost there, fuck,” he whimpered, his hold on you tightening to something almost painful before he pulled out swiftly, pumping his cock at an inhumane pace before shooting white ropes across your stomach. He came loudly, teetering near a shout. Every time you thought it was over, more and more kept coming out, eventually spilling onto his hand and running down his length.

He glanced down at the cross, rising and falling with every movement of your chest. He smirked, holding it up in his clean hand, his thumb smoothing over the protruding patterns.

At least now he can say for certain where he’s truly going.

“C’mon, darlin, let's get you cleaned up.”

main masterlist, rules

190 notes · View notes

gureumz · 1 year ago

Text

grateful sinners

rating: explicit

member: jake

premise: growing up in a religious community (a cult?), you and your friend jake stumble upon "forbidden" media one day. of course, you know about sex but what the elders taught you was never this dirty. overcome with curiosity, you promise each other to never speak of what you're about to do to anyone.

notes: religious themes, implied cult behavior, slight (?) blasphemy, virgin!jake x virgin!reader, fem!reader, friends to lovers (?), first time, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, desperate touch-starved, jesus loving virgins tryna fuck

a/n: third of my 1k follower special! can you tell i have deep religious trauma? lmaoooo but this was rlly fun to write, if not a little tedious but i enjoyed it nonetheless! hope you do, too <3

the day was as beautiful as any other.

the early morning sun peeking behind the nearby hill, the smell of wet grass, the gentle breeze blowing through your hair.

you breathe in more of the valley air, letting your eyes close for a moment. everything is so still, hours and hours before the first worship of the day when the whole commune will surely come fully alive. at this moment, you're sure you're closer to God than ever.

a whispered prayer breaks the silence.

"i do not deserve such beauty before me, God," you mumble, eyes still closed. "but you are most merciful and i, a grateful sinner."

a silence, still. nothing or no one responds to your profession of gratitude, but that is to be expected. God works silently, as the elders say.

"i'm deciding if the beauty is on the horizon in front of us or in your face, ________," a voice breaks through, shattering the tranquil veil that envelops you.

you turn and you can't help the jolt in your chest. you grin widely and jake smiles back, hands in his pockets and his pants already soaked with morning dew from the grass.

"don't say that," you warn. "my mom might hear."

jake makes a show of looking around, gazing past you at the squat houses sitting peacefully without movement.

"i don't see her," jake says with a shrug. you laugh.

"you know how she hates it when people make light of God's word. your jokes are definitely her least favorite," you remind him, stepping closer.

jake eyes you. being noticeably taller and broader, it gives him the perfect view of your face as the dawn sun hits your delicate features.

his hair is messy, partly sticking to his forehead with the other half of his raven locks hanging over his eyes. you know his father would berate him for that. children of the pastor are expected to appear presentable in front of the whole commune as a way to honor God and his divine image.

but the commune is nowhere to be seen. it's just you looking.

and jake is used to you looking.

growing up together, with his mom and yours being close friends, your mother's unwavering devotion to the commune, and her undying support to jake's father's cause as pastor, it's no surprise that the two of you have been inseparable.

despite the clear division between the men and women of the commune, you and jake always found your way to each other. sneaking in glances, waving from afar before you start mass, and even despite your own mother's prudish ways, you know she felt at ease when jake was around you.

nothing has been said, but you're sure that when both of you reach the age of matrimony, you'd be wed to each other. you have to be.

"what are you doing out here so early?" you continue with a question, resisting the urge to toy with the wisps of hair on jake's temples.

you're forbidden to touch or be touched by any man that isn't your family. the only exception to this is his father, the pastor, free to lay his healing hands upon anyone he deems in need of it.

jake parts his lips to answer but pauses, as if choosing the appropriate thing to say.

"some of my friends and i wanted to hang out by the river," jake supplies, gesturing toward the general direction of the river just beyond the hill.

"doing what?" you ask. the men are usually tasked with heavy farm work in the morning. in your mind, a leisurely stroll by the river before all that labor seemed hardly reasonable.

jake hesitates again, now toying with his bottom lip, the plump, rosy skin growing even redder with every pinch jake delivers to it.

"you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," you say, flashing jake a reassuring smile.

"i'm not lying," jake replies almost instantly, a nervous spark in his eyes. "we really were by the river. we were...looking at something."

you cock your head to the side. jake comes even closer and the hairs on your arm stand on end, the faint scent of jake's sweat and soap reaching your nose. if you reach out now, you could easily wrap both arms around him, pull him close, and never let go.

"jay's dad brings our harvest to the nearby city market, right? well, jay went with him yesterday and he nicked this...book or something from the gas station," jake rambles, fidgeting with his fingers.

your eyes widen.

"it was glossy and the pages smelled nice. we don't have those kinds of books here, don't we?" jake continues, but your ears have started ringing in alarm.

"jay stole? jake, you know he needs to confess and repent," you whisper, taken aback.

jake gives you a look and you nearly tremble at the intensity in his irises. without warning, jake lets his fingertips graze your arm, instantly pulling away right after. you flinch, cradling your arm against your chest as if you've been burned.

"it's wrong, i know, but...haven't you thought of breaking the rules, even once? some of the people here talk about all the exciting things they've seen or done before, all because they broke one small rule. do you ever stop to think that it could be...fun?" jake questions, voice low. his eyes are wide and shaking, darting to and fro as if committing your whole face to memory.

"i—," you begin, unsure of what to say. you have thought of asking, even begging your mom to let you out into the city for one day. to see all the outsiders and their strange clothes and loud music.

but you could never go through with it. your mom would tell the pastor of your sinful curiosity the minute the words would leave your mouth.

"stealing is not breaking one small rule," you protest.

jake huffs out a breath. "aren't you tired of all of this? all of this forbidden stuff?"

you shake your head, trying to wrap your head around the words coming out of jake's mouth.

"your father's the pastor, jake," you say, voice trembling. "how could you..."

"the book had these pictures," jake cuts in, voice picking up as if it excited him to recount what he saw.

"the women in the book...they were naked."

you take a step back, clamping a hand down on your mouth.

"jake, what's gotten into you?" you question, heart beating wildly.

"i just want to know about the outside world, ________," jake reasons, running a hand through his hair.

"it's not as bad as the elders make it out to be," jake continues. "i haven't burst into flames, have i?"

you merely stare, uneasy at how blatant jake is about his sinful acts.

"do you want to see? i could borrow it from jay," jake offers, voice dropping to an even quieter whisper.

you stand there, a million different thoughts running through you. in all honesty, you wanted to take a look, never having seen any naked body other than your own. but even now, knowing that she was nowhere near, you could feel your mother's burning gaze on you. disappointed, intimidating, warning you to be a good child of God or face the wrath of hell.

you know this is wrong, or so you've been told. jake is treading a dangerous path and he seems adamant on roping you along. and yet...

"yes," you answer before you could stop yourself.

"b-but wait! how are you going to show me? we have to be careful," you hurriedly add, glancing around in case anyone was near enough to hear the atrocities you and jake are talking about.

"there's a secret back room in one of the barns. i go there to rest during breaks or after work and no one else ever goes there," jake hurriedly says, crowding back into your personal space. you notice the slight shake in his hands and the way his ears redden.

"o-okay," you say with a nod. "when?"

"later tonight," jake offers.

"during supper, we can sneak out while everyone else eats," jake continues. you feel his fingers on your arm again and this time, jake lets his whole hand flatten against the sleeve of your dress, his warmth seeping down to your skin.

you gasp, but stay frozen. jake's other hand lays on your waist and you shake uncontrollably, both terrified and excited at the prospect of jake touching you.

jake pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours. he's breathing just as hard as you.

"you know, i thought about...if you would look the same as the women in the book," jake murmurs, eyes closed.

you shiver. you should be appalled, disgusted by how jake is acting now, but all you feel is a warm, bubbling feeling in your abdomen and an insatiable itch to clutch at jake's clothes.

"jake, we can't—," you begin, but the deep toll of the church bell interrupts you, signaling the start of the day.

you and jake spring apart, knowing that the whole commune would be outside in a matter of minutes, heading off to their designated duties for the day.

before you could get another word in, jake rushes forward, kissing you. you gasp, but as if on instinct, your hands grasp at his face. a second later, you thread your fingers through his hair, the strands offering little resistance as you gently tug, just as you've always dreamed of doing. but as quickly as it started, jake pulls away, pushing you back at the same time.

"tonight," jake breathes out, walking backward. "at dinner. the last barn to the left."

you nod once, pausing for a moment as you watch jake tread further away from you. you wave before sprinting toward your house.

your mother would be in the kitchen. you would be assigned with peeling the oranges. or cooking the eggs. or buttering the toast.

to you, at this moment, it didn't really matter.

all your eyes could see, all your heart could feel is jake.

---

dinner was a tense affair.

your mom questioned your uncharacteristic early start this morning, and all you could do was supply a pathetic lie about wanting to see the rose garden started by some of the older women in the commune.

she made a point to warn you to be on time for dinner. you felt an uneasiness settle in your stomach at this, thinking of all the ways your and jake's plan could go wrong.

but rushing out of the mess hall now, legs pumping as you dash through the field toward the barns, all of your worries melt away.

you remember the kiss, jake's fingers digging into your side, his smooth hair in between your fingers.

having separate dining halls for the men and women, you weren't sure when jake would be there, but you decided you had to leave as soon as you can. you feigned a stomachache to your mother, excusing yourself to the bathroom.

you knew this was yet another lame excuse, but you went the rest of the day without seeing jake. you were subjected to teach the younger ones about scripture today at the school, but all you wanted was to feel jake again. to see him. to touch him.

you slow down as you approach the barns, jogging over to the last one to the left. your breathing is heavy, beads of sweat collecting on your forehead. another shiver of excitement goes through you as you push the barn door open.

the barn is one of the unused ones, a single light turned on at the very back. you walk toward the dim bulb, the glass-encased fluorescent hanging precariously by a thin wire.

you realize quite belatedly that jake never gave any specifics on how to find the secret room. but just then, you hear a faint shuffle to your left. despite the darkness, you can make out the faint outline of a head peeking out from behind a stack of hay.

"jake," you whisper, crossing the space between you in long strides.

jake emerges from the shadows, an easy smile on his face.

"it's back here," jake ushers you behind the tower of hay, his hand easily finding yours. "hurry, before anyone sees us."

you tighten your grip on jake's hand, the same feeling of exhilaration building up within you. you watch as jake approaches the section of the wall that's hidden behind the hay, pulling open a flimsy door that's half your height, cleverly disguised as part of the wall. inside, you can barely make out the soft flickering of candlelight.

jake nudges you forward. "it's a tight squeeze but it's comfortable enough inside."

you crouch, laying your hands on the dirt floor to steady yourself. you scurry forward through the door and emerge on the other side.

the space inside the room is enough for two, tall enough for you to stand in. you straighten up, dusting yourself off. jake follows inside, shutting the door behind him.

you look around and spot a metal box in one corner next to the single candle burning. a blanket is spread out on the ground.

"here," jake says, pulling you gently towards the blanket. you sit down, perching yourself right across jake.

jake takes hold of the metal box, unlatching the lid. inside, you can see a number of trinkets and other objects.

"are those...cigarettes?" you ask in disbelief. jake chuckles, brandishing the red and white box.

"found them in dad's safe," jake replies nonchalantly. "this one, too."

jake holds up a glossy rectangle, flipping it so it faces you. you let out an audible gasp.

"a phone? but we're not allowed phones," you say, letting jake place the device on your palm.

"i know. but that's my dad's. you know how the elders are the only ones allowed phones. so, i took his." jake is grinning now, the candlelight casting sharp shadows across his handsome face.

"but, how? doesn't he notice? what's in it?" you rattle off, turning the phone over in your hands.

"i bring it back every night once i'm done exploring what's inside," jake explains. he reaches over, pressing a button on its side. a moment later, it lights up, momentarily blinding you with how close you're holding it to your face.

you stare in awe as the screen comes alive. it dims after it fully turns on, displaying in big, blocky letters the time of night.

6:51

supper would be over soon.

jake takes the phone from you, setting it down on the blanket between you two.

"we can look at that later," jake reassures. "i got the book from jay at lunch today."

you swallow as jake pulls out the book from the very bottom of the box. jake moves the candle closer and your eyes instantly go wide.

the front of the book is glossy, indeed, just like jake said it would be. but the woman pictured on it seemed too lifelike, as if she wasn't merely printed on paper. her tan skin is on full display, with nothing covering her body but a bathing suit, one you've seen outsiders wear the few times you've seen pictures of them.

the bathing suit is black, the neckline going down almost to her stomach. you see the side of her breasts peek out from the garment holding it in place, and from what you can see, her whole back seems to be bare.

your eyes drift down to her crotch, covered by a thin strip of fabric. she stands, legs apart, her hands on her waist, baring her entire naked body to the world.

the longer you stare, the hotter you feel. an ache between your legs starts to make itself known.

"there's even more inside," jake whispers, sidling up to you. he presses his shoulder against yours as he reaches over to flip the book open.

your eyes scan the text on the next page, coming across a word you don't hear or see often.

"magazine," you mumble. a memory pings in your head.

"mom told me about magazines. this is a magazine," you say in mild amazement. "she says they're full of lies and are forbidden in the commune."

"magazine," jake repeats, drawing out the word slowly. he flips through more pages, stopping at one with a woman pushing her naked chest out.

your heartbeat quickens. you trace your finger over the picture, passing over the image of her plump breast, perky with a pinkish hue around the nipple.

you recall the science classes at the school. the teacher had recited the parts of the woman's body in a flat, monotonous voice. nipple. areola. vagina. cervix. she drilled it in everyone's head that these parts are not to be said aloud outside of the classroom.

"mine doesn't look like that," you comment absentmindedly. "they're not as...round."

you look up to see jake staring intently at you. his eyes drift down to your chest and you feel a new wave of heat wash over you.

jake licks his lips as he shifts closer, and as if compelled by his own actions, you do the same, facing jake fully.

you touch the buttons on the front of your dress.

you know what you're about to say and do next is beyond sinful. but you've already crossed the line the second you laid your eyes upon the magazine. a strange desire bubbles up inside you.

"do you want to see?" you ask quietly, watching jake's expression carefully.

"can i?" jake asks back, peering into your eyes. you can smell him again, faint lavender adding to the mix of his scent. you imagine jake in the bath, naked, water and bubbles washing over his skin.

you shudder involuntarily.

"yes," you breathe out.

you start to undo your dress, hands shaking. you've never done this before. you're forbidden to. you know God watches you now with disdainful eyes, but you can hardly find it in you to care.

you undo the last button, pulling the sleeves of your dress down and off your arms. the night is chilly and you shiver as the air meets your skin.

unmarried women in the commune are advised not to wear bras as they are still considered pure and innocent and in no need of such womanly garments.

so you sit, barechested in front of jake, shaking in the cold, in anticipation, in mild fear.

jake's jaw goes slack, taking in the image in front of him. he glances back at the magazine before returning his gaze to your own breasts. you resist the urge to cross your arms.

instead, you reach over, delicate fingers wrapping around jake's wrists. you guide them up, stopping right above your waiting chest.

"here," you whisper, but your voice sounds strangely loud in the silence of the night. "touch me, jake,"

you place his hands over your mounds and you gasp at the abrupt warmth. jake chews on his lip, fingers softly kneading your skin.

"do you touch yourself like this?" jake asks, eyes still wide in amazement and curiosity. he gives a light squeeze and you whimper, covering your mouth to stop yourself from crying out.

"sometimes," you say, voice slightly muffled behind your palm. "in the bath. when no one's looking."

jake exhales, pulling his hands back momentarily. he lines his pointer finger with your nipples, flicking up experimentally. you groan, throwing your head back.

"it feels good," you breathe out. "jake, it feels good all over."

jake pinches your nipples and you yelp, falling forward against jake. he catches you, cradling you to his chest. you breathe onto his neck, a warm stickiness pooling under your skirt.

"touch me, too," jake says right in your ear. he guides your hand on his crotch and your fingers curl around something stiff.

"please," jake implores, voice high and almost whining.

you watch in fascination as jake strains against his trousers. you caress up and down, feeling him harden even more under your touch. jake squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"sit over me," jake commands, pulling you onto his lap. there's a loud roaring in your ears as something overtakes your body completely.

"keep touching me and i'll do the same," jake instructs, returning his hands to your chest. he curls his fingers into your flesh and your mouth opens in a silent scream.

you take ahold of jake through his pants, squeezing and rubbing. jake is bucking into your hand, small breaths escaping his lips.

your head is spinning, your cheeks are flushed, and a faint guilt tugs at your chest. but you've thrown all care out the window, the only thing on your mind being jake's rough fingers tugging and pinching and grabbing at your breasts.

the bubble of heat in this little room breaks when you hear the dark notes of the church bell ringing, marking the end of supper.

you gasp, pulling away from jake as he does the same. you hurriedly button up your dress, trying to calm your breathing. jake gathers the things strewn on the floor, tossing them back into his box.

you stand, smoothing down your dress and tucking your hair back behind your ear. no words are spoken as jake blows the candle out, pushing the door open to free both of you.

you scramble out of the small space, heart still pumping wildly against your chest. you feel jake's hand rest on one side of your face, urging you to look at him.

"meet me by the river early tomorrow," jake says, now holding your face with both hands.

you blink, unsure of what to say. the rush of blood is still loud in your ears and all you want is for jake to touch you again. to keep touching you.

to touch you forever.

"please," jake adds, running his thumb over your bottom lip. you quiver at the action, stilling only when you feel him press his lips against yours.

your lips part and so does his, and as if guided by something else, your tongues move into each other's mouths, licking and sucking and breathing into and from each other.

you feel dirty, sinful even. but you start to wonder why you cared so much in the first place.

"tomorrow," jake repeats, pulling away.

the bells toll even louder. you run out of the barn without a second thought, eyes dancing with excitement, lips tender, and one single button of your dress undone.

---

you toss and turn all night.

flashes of jake invade your mind, pulling you out of sleep just as you feel yourself drifting. the way he breathed against your face. the stiffness in your hand. the pleading in his voice.

you prayed, too. prayed to God for forgiveness, for mercy. but you prayed for jake, too. to feel his lips again, to have his hands on other parts of your body.

you cry, quietly and pathetically, ashamed in the face of God. ashamed because the arousal hasn't left you. it burns almost painfully and you wish and you pray and you beg for morning to come.

you glance at the clock next to your bed and see that it's half past five a.m. you ran into jake at six yesterday, so he should be at the river by now if you're to go off of that.

you quickly dress yourself, careful to keep your movements precise and quick so as to not wake anyone in your house.

you practically float down the stairs on your toes, nimbly avoiding all the loose floorboards you know would make a sound.

you steal one glance back inside your house before taking off. you walk at first, trying to calm your nerves, but you build up to a run once you pass through the fence's gate, feeling the morning air whipping at your face.

the climb up the hill, usually a strenuous effort on your end, seems like nothing on this day, your legs taking you over it in no time.

you can see the river now, and you see the faraway figure of someone hunched over, sitting on the riverbank. excitement rips through you and you're running, running faster than you've ever had.

jake hears you before he sees you, your breathing loud and labored and your boots stomping against the wet grass. he turns to see you slowing down to a jog as you approach him.

he stands, wordlessly meeting you as you sink into his arms.

you kiss and the roar of desire is back, a single flame flickering in the blue-hued, early-morning world that surrounds you.

jake pulls you towards an area behind a large tree, and you see that the same blanket from last night is laid out on the grass. without parting your lips, jake pulls you down with him on the spread-out cloth, laying you down.

"i watched things on dad's phone last night," jake admits, kissing your jaw. you squirm underneath him, his lips sending a ticklish sensation over you.

"i watched people do it," jake murmurs against your skin, lips dragging down your neck.

"i watched them make love."

you pull jake away from where he's kissing you behind your ear, a questioning look on your face.

"you can...watch people make love? on the phone?" you ask meekly, trying to understand how some people can let such a sacred act be seen by anyone other than themselves and God.

jake nods, hands smoothing up your sides. "yes. and they do it so loudly, so roughly, so vulgarly. not like how we're taught."

you stare, wide-eyed. "what?"

"they curse a lot," jake adds. "and they call on God's name so much. we're told to never do that unless in praise."

your breath hitches when you feel jake smooth his hands over your clothed chest. you feel your nipples stiffen under his touch.

"what if it felt so good to them, they needed to call on God?" you whisper. jake ponders on this for a moment, eyes scanning over your face.

"i want to feel as good as them," jake finally says. he starts to undo your dress, the same way you did last night.

"we're going to...to make love?" you ask as jake slots himself between your legs. you feel the same stiffness from last night press up against your thigh.

"please," jake responds, pulling your dress open. your nipples are taut, begging to be touched.

jake dips his head down, latching his mouth onto one of your nubs, sending your whole body spasming. you moan, a new kind of pleasure coursing through your veins. jake presses his hips onto yours, right between your legs and you nearly cry at how good the pressure feels.

you push your core against jake's own crotch, swiveling your hips around trying to find the delicious friction you felt.

"i want to, please. i want to, so bad," jake pleads against your chest.

jake bunches your skirt around your torso, exposing your lower half and the thin, white, commune-approved underwear you have.

"please," you whine, not even sure of what you're saying.

"me, too. make love to me, jake."

jake groans, sitting upright, hands already tugging at his belt. he undoes the buckle, unzipping his pants before pulling the garments down to his thighs.

you stare half in awe and half in curiosity as jake strokes himself a few times. a clear liquid spills from the tip and you feel your mouth involuntarily water.

"can i take this off?" jake asks, hooking a finger under the hem of your underwear. you nod, cringing slightly as you feel the sticky fabric pull away from your skin as jake discards of it.

"it's so wet," jake observes, reaching down to run a finger between your folds.

"ngh!" you cry out, twitching at the sudden contact. no one has ever touched you down there. you've never touched yourself down there other than to wash.

jake presses the pads of his fingers against your core, rubbing lightly. you throw your head back, thighs already shaking.

"does this feel good?" jake asks, pressing down harder. you nod again, unable to form any coherent thoughts or sentences.

"i saw that they did this," jake says before plunging a finger into your hole.

stars burst right before your eyes when you feel jake push his thick digit into you. the feeling is foreign, a weird pressure but pleasurable nonetheless.

jake pumps it in and out of you, observing your face as he does so. you open your eyes to meet his and you see jake's pupils blown wide, his whole face a light tint of pink.

"still good?" jake asks.

"yes," you gasp, your hips pushing off the ground as you try to chase more of this feeling.

"some of them...," jake begins, pausing his movements. you start to protest but your voice gets caught in your throat when you feel jake push in another finger.

"...use two."

a slight burn at the added stretch makes you wince, your hand coming down to grab jake's wrist.

"s-slowly," you supply, opening your legs wider. jake nods in understanding, moving his fingers at a gentler pace.

you mewl, feeling the drag of his knuckles against your inner walls. you're dizzy with pleasure, overwhelmed with the thought that something could feel this good.

"it keeps coming out of you," jake says in awe. "you're getting even wetter."

"it feels so good," you gasp. "jake, please."

"what should i do?" jake asks, leaning over you. you look up, jake's face right in front of yours. not knowing what else to do, you pull him down to you in a kiss.

jake moans against your lips, speeding up his movements in and out of you. you cry into the kiss, never wanting this feeling to end.

"i-i'll put it in," jake whispers into your mouth.

jake pulls his fingers out of you and you fight the instinct to whine. jake sits back on his heels, watching as you clench around nothing.

you see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of your dripping core, his hand coming down to pump at his shaft.

"it might hurt," jake warns. "that's what they told us."

you smile weakly. "us, too."

jake grins back at you, scooting forward to line himself up with you. jake presses the tip against your hole, watching for your reaction. he slides a little more in, and you let out a squeak.

"it's much bigger than your fingers," you say, with slight panic in your voice.

"i'm here," jake says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "you'll be okay."

you feel jake push in some more and your whole body jerks in surprise. tears prickle your eyes but you focus on evening out your breathing. underneath the evident sting, a steady throb of pleasure beats down in your core.

"it feels so warm," jake gasps out. "God help me."

jake sinks all the way in, unable to contain himself, and you bite down hard on your lip, feeling jake deep in you. you're afraid to move in case it starts to hurt more.

"f-fuck," jake curses, hips pulling back before sinking all the way in again. you cover your mouth with both hands, unsure of all the feelings you're having at the moment.

"i'm sorry," jake whispers, kissing your cheek, then your nose, then both of your eyes. "i-it feels too good."

"it's okay," you reply, trying to contain the tremor in your voice. "keep going. it feels better now."

and it does. the more jake moves, the more you could relax. jake hits a spot inside you that completely overrides the nearly unbearable stretch and it takes everything in you not to double over in surprise.

"again," you say. "just like that."

jake stops for a moment before repeating the angle in which he thrusted in you.

there it is again. a jolt of electricity goes through your abdomen and you shudder in delight.

"yes!" you cry out. "m-more."

jake picks up his speed, careful to keep it the same way you like it. it's as if the gates of heaven themselves have opened, showing you a world of pleasure you've never seen or experienced before.

the stretch has dulled now, and the fullness you feel adds to the coil in your stomach, tighter and tighter with each thrust.

you wrap your legs around jake's waist, wanting him, needing him closer.

jake lays himself over you, his chest pressed to yours, his hips moving nonstop. you've started to meet his movements, chasing something you're not quite sure exactly what.

"it does feel good," you manage to say between moans. "so good."

jake pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you.

"have you ever finished before?" jake questions. your eyebrows pinch together and you shake your head. jake slows down, grinding into you shallowly.

"finished?" you repeat.

"yeah, when you pleasure yourself, you finish," jake recounts. you shake your head again.

"we're not allowed to, remember? i've never touched myself that way," you admit bashfully.

"it's okay," jake reassures, kissing you softly. "you'll feel it here."

jake lays a hand on your lower abdomen, pressing down. you inhale, fingernails digging into jake's shoulder.

"move faster," you request. "but keep pressing there."

jake looks at you in bewilderment but follows nonetheless. he picks up his pace again, still keeping his hand on your stomach. you feel a pressure build up where jake is pressing and you feel your whole body shake.

"you're getting tighter," jake says through gritted teeth, trying to maintain his movements.

"s-sorry, feels too good," you apologize.

"i think i feel it," you add. "keep going, please."

this sends jake into a frenzy, hips snapping at a speed you can't keep up with. you let out a sob as you feel your entire being ignite with every push of jake's shaft in you.

"i can feel myself," jake points out. "i can feel myself through your belly, God."

the words confuse you but you look down to see jake protruding through your lower abdomen with every thrust. the sight sends your brain into overdrive and you moan your loudest as a white-hot current rips through you.

you vaguely hear jake groan as he roughly grabs your hips, keeping you in place. he pumps in and out of you a few more times before stopping. you continue to swivel your hips, squirming at the strange sensation that's taking over your body.

eventually, you relax, feeling strangely peaceful. you feel lightheaded but in the best way, as if you're floating on clouds.

jake grunts, pulling himself out of you. the sensation makes you cringe and you feel something drip out between your legs.

"is that—is that your seed?" you ask in mild disbelief, though still too out of it to care much.

"yeah," jake says, nodding, collecting the drops of himself that spilled out before poking his finger back in you.

"jake!" you protest, still much too sesitive.

jake pulls his finger out and grins at you. he settles beside you, pulling you onto his chest.

---

the church bell tolls not long after.

the early morning sun rises above the tree line, and if you were to stand on the other side of the hill, you would have watched the orange glow with amazement and bated breath.

there's a breeze that blows through your messy hair and the smell of morning dew on the grass is mixed with jake's lavender soap.

breathing in the valley air, another prayer falls quietly from your lips.

"we do not deserve your forgiveness," you say . "but you are most merciful and we, are merely grateful sinners."

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #jake smut #jake scenarios #w: jake

2K notes · View notes

in-sufficientdata · 6 months ago

Text

Who Would Jesus Bomb by Jordan Smart

If Jesus Christ came back today like you threaten he will Which poor group of people do you think that he would kill? Who would Jesus choose to starve if you gave him the chance And if there was a genocide would he take a neutral stance?

Would he say, "It's complicated and there's sinners on all sides"? Or would he say that some people, they just deserve to die? If Christ the savior rose again then on a sidewalk slept Would you extend a hand to him or just watch where you stepped?

Would Jesus hate the gay folks, or the queer folks, or the trans? Would he suggest they end their lives according to God's plans? Would Jesus tell a homeless man to get a fucking job? Then turn his back on the poor? Would Jesus be a snob?

Would Jesus vote Republican? Or would it be Democrat? Would he be chanting four more years? Or wear a MAGA hat? Would Jesus run for president, or dictator, or worse? Would Jesus be the pastor of his own megachurch?

Would Jesus build a border wall? Would Jesus drive a tank? Would Jesus run an arsenal? Would Jesus run a bank? Would Jesus feel safe in his skin if he came to your town? Or would you still believe in Jesus if you found out he was brown?

Who would Jesus bomb? Tell me, who would Jesus bomb? Would it be kids in Palestine Or how 'bout Vietnam? Would Jesus bomb the atheists, the Muslims, or the Jews? I want you to ask yourself, "Well, what would Jesus do?" I want you to ask yourself, "Well, what would Jesus do?" I want you to ask yourself, "Well, what would Jesus do?"

#folk punk #counterculture #protest music #tiktok #jordan smart #exvangelical #jesus christ #christianity #religion #atheism #palestine

260 notes · View notes

holybibly · 8 months ago

Note

girl i really dunno how to ask but ummm i...i mean WE need more preacher/saint/priest content....oh i just thought priest yunho with some cnc and bdsm........and maybe some watersports....oh. my. god. i died. my eyes are only seeing some whips, punishment and a lot of sin. bye.

Hi, honey, how are you? I really spoiled you, didn't I? But it seems that everyone is just as crazy about hot priests/pasors,preachers, and nuns as I am. Woo was hotter than hell when he was a priest, don't you think, bunnies?

I've already mentioned that I'll be doing a sequel for each member, but I'll tell you more so you can look forward to my updates.

Below I mention religious, hierophilia and church related topics. Bunnies, please refrain from reading if such content makes you uncomfortable. You have been warned!

Beware of False Prophets Demon San x Reader

Everyone in your town has been talking about the arrival of a new priest. The parishioners have been on their knees in praise of Pastor Choi San ever since he walked through the doors of your little church. He was devout, quiet, and, for a priest, incredibly handsome. He quickly became the object of admiration and wet dreams.

And you were not left out. The way his cat-like eyes would sometimes linger on you during Mass, or the way your name would roll off his tongue when he addressed you, made you blush with shame, not only at the dirty thoughts in your head but also at the fact that your panties were getting too wet just by looking at San.

But little did you know that Pastor Choi San had much more forbidden and depraved intentions towards you than that. Not all that glitters is gold, and not everyone is a saint who wears a holy robe.

It is said that one should beware of false prophets, for good intentions lead to hell. Or maybe the demon San will disguise himself as the new pastor of your church and try to tempt you into committing a sin.

Are you callin' me a sinner? Priest Yunho x Widow Reader

It was never in your wildest dreams that you'd be a widow at such a young age. Less than three months had passed since you got married when your husband tragically died, and this became the talk of your small town.

People walked past you, looked at you with disgust, closed their doors in front of you, and pointedly ignored you as if you had committed some mortal sin, which is probably what they thought you had done. You were so young and too beautiful, and your husband... Your husband was a man much older than you. You loved him; you really did, and losing him destroyed you. Your husband left you a huge fortune to inherit, and people whispered that you killed him to get money and to take a lover. Some even said you made a pact with the devil by killing your husband in return for your unearthly beauty and money. They said that you were a sinful brat.

Your only comfort at that time was faith, and you spent all your evenings in prayer and penance. One day, your housekeeper advised you to contact the priest, Jeong Yunho, describing him as a pious, compassionate, and gentle person who always showed mercy to everyone and granted the desired forgiveness of sins to all the troubled hearts. But she neglected to mention that Yunho was also an incredibly handsome young man who was more likely to tempt you to sin than to help you atone for it.

"I will help you get rid of your sins, my child." His hoarse voice whispered in your ear as he let the dress fall from your shoulders and down your back.

"I am going to cleanse you of the sin and the impurity of this world." Yunho said as he put a blindfold over your eyes and tied your hands behind your back.

"The only way you will be able to atone for your sins is through pain, and I will help you with that, my dear." He said this, accompanying his words with a lash of his whip across your bare skin.

Say yes to Heaven Pastor Yeosang x Libertine Reader

You never wanted to have anything as much as you wanted to have Kang Yeosang. He was handsome. He looked like an angel. He was everything that you ever wanted to sink your teeth into. He was your church's pastor. And that was what drove the hell out of you.

Yeosang was a simple man—an incredibly sweet and gentle man—who always helped his parishioners find the right path and to find God in their hearts. You, however, could brag about an endless list of sins and vices that you proudly displayed, like your favourite red lipstick. If given the chance, you would paint the whole town red, but mostly you wanted to see it smeared around Pastor Yeosang's handsome cock while you deepthroated him. The two of you came from completely different worlds—a saint and a sinner—but you had always believed that opposites attract.

Every mass was a game of seduction for you, and you wondered how far you could go before the angelic halo over Yeosang's head would crack and he would fuck you senseless. Although you had doubts that he could do it, you had a feeling that he was a virgin and would probably faint at the sight of a pink, wet pussy in front of his pretty angelic face. God, the boy was so holy and inexperienced about sex.

But how wrong you were about him! There are always two sides to every coin, and you will learn from experience that there are some desires that are better left as fantasies. Or the one where Pastor Yeosang fucks you to the last inch of your life and teaches you the concept of out-of-body experiences through orgasm.

Me and the Devil Lucifer Seonghwa x Reader Nun

From the day your parents took you to church for the first time, you knew that your life would be one of devotion to God. Of course, this was not the destiny your family wanted for you, but they still supported you on your way to becoming a virgin bride.

The convent where you lived to prepare for your vows was far from home and did not have the best reputation. But the priest of your parish convinced you that it was there, and nowhere else, that you could know God. And he was right; you did know God, but it was not the God to whom you prayed every night of your life.

It all began with dreams. Dark and unholy dreams came to you more and more often. The cold hands of a stranger sliding over your skin, a hot tongue exploring your body and lips as if sin itself were branding you with kisses, all ending with the first rays of dawn. Then this strange cat appeared and would not leave your side for a minute. But what frightened you most was the disappearance of the other nuns. One after the other, they vanished without a trace, until there were only a few novices left in the convent.

The night you took your vows was dark and moonless. So were the eyes of the dark-winged angel who appeared before you. It was as if he were woven of pure sin, depravity, and rage, oozing from his skin like ichor, and the rustle of his wings was the very sound you would hear before your death. But Angel, Lucifer, Seonghwa—call him what you like—came here with one goal: to finally get his bride.

"Do you have faith that your God will be the answer to your prayers, my beautiful bride? Do you believe that he is going to save you?" Seonghwa's lips touched your cheek, and his burning breath flowed across your skin. "You belong to me. Your soul, your faith, your body—all of it belongs to me. And you will accept me as your husband, dear child. Or you will say goodbye to your life at dawn."

There will be a separate post for Mingi, Jongho and Hongjoong. I am going to leave you in suspense, my little bunnies.

There's no harm in a bit of intrigue, is there?

320 notes · View notes

campbell-rose · 1 year ago

Text

Alastor Redesign

Omg there’s like over 70 people following me – guys I'm o///O flattered and flabbergasted.

Anyway, onto today’s main event, Alastor. I hate Alastor’s og design, I hate his twig waist and his shoulder pads and the way you can’t see his antlers next to his ears, and his bow tie ugh viv please and his HAIR what even is that??? Not even mentioning that nothing about his design is really like a focal point. There’s no one thing that’s particularly interesting. At least before this he had that cathedral window looking cross on his undershirt that I found interesting. Nothing about his says he’s from the 1930’s other than dialogue.

I wanted him to be in greyscale because that’s the coolest aesthetic, and colored photos weren’t a thing until way after the 30s. Recently I saw jjk, and Jogo’s teeth threw me because at some points I thought he was just straight up toothless. But then when I started this design, that colored tooth look spoke to me. Initially his teeth were yellow to look gross like he never brushes them, but then I was like ‘ayo wait, he’s literally a cannibal’, thus his vibrant red teeth to really pop against his greyscale. Initially his undershirt was white, but I feel like that was too much contrast and white is typically innocence, so by instead having a deep red it shows he’s just straight up bloodthirsty underneath his formal appearance. I also considered it being black, but then he looked like a pastor, and I wasn’t too much of a fan of it. The idea of the red on his design is that it leads your eye down his design to take it all in, with his face being the focus. I gave him glasses because I like the way it obscures his eyes a bit and I imagine they do the anime thing where they glow and hide his eyes. I liked Viv’s idea of sinners having marks where they died, and I slicked his hair back to show it off very prominently. His antlers are larger, I gave him cute lil deer ears. Also, under his suit he is lowkey buff. I feel like a serial killer should at least look physically capable of taking someone down not whatever the fuck viv’s nasty twig men can do. Like, in that comic with the cute sheep girl, when Alastor goes demon mode his body looks so snappable I just wanna like grab his waist in my hands and break it like a twig. I also tried to keep his design simple as if this were for animation, I know pinstripes are complicated and so are antlers but other than that I tried to keep his design basic.

If I were to rewrite him based solely on the pilot, I honestly wouldn’t change a thing. Alastor is a decent character, his voice actor gives him life, the radio filter is cool, and nothing he did made me want to break my screen (ANGELDUST). The only thing I'd change would be his position in hell. Like, viv’s hell is so wack and I hate it, she’s got the princes, then the goetia and the overlords and then sinners and blah blah, it’s a lot to keep track of, not even mentioning the rings and circles thing. I think Alastor should have had dealings with hell as a human, maybe he routinely did sacrifices or something, and he made a deal with the archdemon Alastor and when he died like... uuhhhhhhh. Maybe through connections he’s gained more power? Idk, I just know I hate the idea of his dying and then having like the bestest most powerful demon powers despite not being hellborn. It’s got this mary sue stench. I’ll figure it out, maybe, who knows.

I’m not gonna start rewriting since there’s nothing to go off of and alter yet, so that’s gonna have to wait until the show actually drops before anything concrete happens lol.

Also the sheep girl is a sinner that reoccurs in the show now so sorry I don’t make the rules, you can’t give me a cute sheep girl and try to take her away, I’m gonna redesign her and shove her into the plot as someone looking for redemption at the hotel

#anti vivziepop #vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #alastor the radio demon

623 notes · View notes

jessicalprice · 1 year ago

Text

So I've spent a lot of time untangling Christian exegesis of parables and talking about how the way Christians interpret parables almost always ends up being antisemitic.

But aside from how it makes them think about Jews and Judaism and Jewishness, I also want to talk a bit about how it makes them sympathize more with abusers than with victims.

The easy-to-point-to culprit here is the trilogy of parables that culminates in what most Christians know as the Prodigal Son story.

The common interpretation of these parables is that God does (and therefore Christians should) value a repentant sinner over someone who's never sinned.

The problem here isn't the stories themselves--they're pretty enigmatic as far as their actual meanings--but Luke's gloss:

"Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance."

(Mark says, "So it is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost," which is very different.

So on its face, in 2023, that's a blatantly dangerous, abuser-supporting belief. What is it like to be a child sexually abused by your youth pastor and to hear that the fact that he hurt you is part of what makes him somehow spiritually "better" than you?

And we can see it play out in the way Kevin M. Young, a popular progressive pastor on Twitter (who describes himself as "post-evangelical" and was the senior pastor at a Quaker congregation) responded to being told one of his tweets was antisemitic, and then jumped in to support a woman who responded by identifying herself as a fan of John Chrysostom (the literal author of "Against the Jews" and the most antisemitic of the Church Fathers, which is saying something).

I'm not going to transcribe the whole thing, because it's not all that important for what I have to say about this, but I am going to call out a few lines:

"The American Christian approach to t'shuvah sees the victim's spirit, character, and speech as equally important to the offenders. I.e. in Christendom, the victim can exceed the sin of the offender simply by their reaction (if it be in sin or acted in a way that is not Spirit led)."

So, to be clear, if someone assaults you, and you don't meekly forgive them in a "Spirit led" way, you're somehow worse than they are.

The uniquely Christian brain rot here is in seeing every sin as an opportunity for forgiveness. After all, if being a repentant sinner gives you a higher spiritual status--if there's more "rejoicing in Heaven" over you--than that of your victim, then you have to sin to get there. It treats other people as props in your salvation journey, not as fellow humans whose suffering matters. (Combine that with the Christian idea that suffering is somehow virtuous in and of itself, and you've got a very toxic recipe. Not only, by abusing others, are you guaranteeing your own value as a repentant sinner, but you're giving your victim the opportunity to ennoble themselves through suffering.)

Of course, a key word here is repentant. Put a pin in that.

These sort of exchanges on Twitter--a Christian being outright genocidal toward Jews, and a supposedly progressive Christian figure jumping in to defend the Christian, with seemingly no ability to comprehend that the Jews in the conversation are human beings who may have their own trauma around violently antisemitic language, with boundless empathy for the Christian abuser and none for the Jewish targets of their abuse--happen frequently and just as frequently leave Jwitter baffled in addition to angry.

Why all this empathy for the abuser and none for the victims?

I think a lot of this comes out of progressive Christian exegesis of parables, which is frequently looking for the radical "twist" to the story.

E.g. in the story of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector, the assumption is that the audience of the time would have empathized with the Pharisee, and thus the twist is to make them empathize with the tax collector. In the story of the Good Samaritan, the assumption is that they would have seen the Samaritan as a threat, and the twist is to make him the hero.

The thinking goes that the audience would have had empathy for certain groups and none for others, so the stories push them to feel that empathy for the latter, and that this was needed to balance the scales, to make sure everyone was receiving love and empathy and care.

Except that this, in modernity, has the effect of simply reversing the roles, not balancing them. The groups that are assumed to be in good social standing get no empathy, even become the implicit villains, and the groups (supposedly, since this is now a Christian-dominant society) traditionally looked down on get all of it.

That might still be a balancing act if the "looked down on" groups were actually marginalized. But in the Christian imagination, that role is filled by sinners in need of Christian grace, not necessarily demographically marginalized groups.

The idea seems to be that the victims are getting sympathy from elsewhere, so it's the Christian's job to make sure the abuser/sinner gets sympathy too.

But I'll point again to that pesky word "repentant."

Ultimately, when it comes to treatment of Jews and Muslims and anyone else who points out that a Christian has in some way harmed them, Christian sympathy goes immediately to the offender before the offender has even expressed any repentance.

The repentant sinner is so much more valuable, at this point, than their victims that they must be preemptively forgiven, that they are more valuable purely because they now have the potential to repent.

And this seems to be lurking under not just how "progressive" pastors act on Twitter, but in a lot of our cultural narratives around, say, college rapists and their futures, around white people who are publicly called out for racist acts, etc.

#jumblr #tshuvah #christian forgiveness culture

731 notes · View notes

godspeedviper · 7 months ago

Text

Preacher's Daughter - Jonathan Crane x Reader

𖤐 Summary: Jonathan Crane reminisces on a rendezvous he had in his youth back in Georgia with the town preacher’s daughter.

𖤐 Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

𖤐 Word Count: 826

𖤐 Rating: +18. smut. gun kink. blasphemy. degradation. femdom.

“Yer trespassin’ boy.”

That voice, sharp, succinct, like the predatory click of her daddy’s shotgun, signaled the start of our game. I may have been the prey, but she was the prize. So I raise my hands in defeat, I play along, and quietly walk down the empty church aisle in the dark. She pressed the barrel of the gun on the small of my back and I could already feel myself grow hard. We couldn’t go to her house on account of her 5 siblings and pastoral parents, and my house was no less forgiving (crazy grandma Keeny’s reign of terror was at its peak). So when we wanted to sin, the local church seemed like the safest option. This only served to heighten the illicit nature of our rendezvous.

“No I aint.” I said to her, a shit eating grin apparent in my tone of voice. “This here is the house of God, not yours.”

She walked me up to the pulpit and made me kneel, pushing me to the floor with the heel of her boots. I looked up at the preacher’s daughter as she stood over me, powerful, and committed the image to memory. The way her skin glowed under the silver moonlight pouring in through the church windows, shadows accentuating every curve, and her daddy’s shotgun glittering menacingly. Years later she remains the only woman who could bring the great Scarecrow to his knees, quivering.

“I am God.” she said, and she was right.

Suddenly, I feel a pressure between my legs. I look down and see she is pushing her boot onto my tented blue jeans. I gasp, and she swats my outstretched hand with the butt of the shotgun.

“Now, I want you to put your hands together and pray.” she says.

“Why?” I reply, voice raspy.

“Because you’re a sinner.” her voice was curt.

My vision, now clouded with lust, begins to see dull halos of moonlight around my lover’s stern gaze. I put my hands together and begin to do as I’m told, closing my eyes and mumbling a Hail Mary as quickly as I can. She pushes the barrel of the gun to my forehead and her foot to my sex.

“Again.” her dissatisfaction was made clear.

“Hail Mary fullofgra-'' I ramble off, beads of sweat blossoming on my brow in the thick Georgia heat. She flips the rifle and hits me again. My head begins to spin, and I slowly turn my gaze back up to her, hazy and dream-like.

“Say it right, boy.” she returns the cool metal of the gun barrel to my feverish skin, and I give out a small sigh.

“Hail, Mary, full of grace…” I pause and make sure to lock eyes with her. “The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen.”

She pulls the gun away from my forehead, casting it aside, and removes the pressure from between my legs. She then kneels down before me, cupping my face into her gentle grasp. We share a chaste kiss and she lovingly whispers to me.

“Good boy,” she says.

Her hands reach down and begin to remove my belt buckle. I help her speed the process along, gasping breathily as I free my member from its confines. She puts her hands on my chest, and I can feel her clammy palms through the thin fabric of my white tank top. She was just as nervous and aroused as I. For a moment, our personas dissipate into the surrounding humidity, and we both moan in unison as she lowers her body onto my lap. Her insides felt just like a ripe Georgia peach at the height of summer,

slick,

moist,

sweet.

“Now,” her voice was little more than a gasp. “Say it again.”

I extended my legs beneath me, putting one hand on the floor to lean on, and the other slipping in under her nightdress to feel her bare skin. She held still, defiant, and I could tell she wouldn’t move till I said my part. I took that moment to kiss her neck and lick her ear. She shivered, and I took in one last deep breath. Her skin smelled of old fashioned bar soap and a cheap vanilla body spray that she used to try to hide the scent of Marlboro reds. With each word I uttered she hastened her pace, rolling her hips against mine until she reached a full gallop.

“Hail, Mary, full of grace,

the Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou amongst women

and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, Mother of God,

pray for us sinners,

now and at the hour of our death…”

Like a man possessed, my back arches up, eyes rolling, and I see the light.

“Amen.”

ao3 || Ko-Fi || WiPs || Guidelines

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy scarecrow #cillian murphy characters #cillian murphy smut #jonathan crane smut #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x you #dc scarecrow #preacher's daughter #southern gothic #minors do not interact #minors dni #dc smut #dc fanfic #gun kink #blasphemy kink #femdxm #church sex #divider by cafekitsune

181 notes · View notes

jajanvm-imbi · 10 months ago

Text

You know there's actually something I really appreciate with how Lucifer is depicted in Hazbin.

Everyone thought he was gonna be this intimidating king who crushes Charlie's dreams. We all thought he was gonna be a sadistic rebel or something.

Instead, Lucifer is just a brokenhearted dreamer who's heart is too big for his own good. Just like Charlie

He wasnt a "rebel", he wasn't "evil", he didn't want to harm anyone. He just wanted to share the beauty of being truly alive with mankind, and he was cast out. He was cast away because the angels feared what they couldn't understand.

When Charlie tried explaining to her father her dream, he said everything he could to discourage her not because he didn't believe in her but he really just wanted to protect her from the soul crushing rejection he experienced. He was afraid for her

And there's something so painfully realistic about that fear.

As someone who's grown up in the church, and who's parents eventually became the pastors of the church they grew up in, I cannot tell you how terrifying the idea of being rejected by those you love is.

All of the most important people in my life are at this church. They paid for my Sweet 16. They were there when my grandparents died and my parents had to go on emergency trips to Costa Rica. They were there when our house got flooded and my family was homeless for 3 months. They threw my parents their 50th birthday parties. They went to my brothers highschool graduation. They went to mine. I'm grateful they're in my life.

But being the type of person I am, someone who isn't afraid of interacting and being friends with those the church deems as "dirty sinners", someone who would charge headfirst into spaces most "good Christians" would be too afraid of touching with a stick, I'm terrified of what I think is the inevitable future.

I've always know I wasn't meant for ministry like everyone expects I should be. I'm not meant to work in exclusively "Christian" spaces, and I have no desire to. My parents keep trying to tell me to use my career for Christian specific projects and I know that's not my purpose in life. They would never say it but I can see it on their faces that they fear I'm gonna "stray from the path of God" for pursing the career I've dreamed of since I was a kid.

How do I begin to explain to them that this is God's path for me? I know it is with all my heart. One day I'm gonna move out and fulfill my purpose in life and ultimately be rejected by the people who I consider my family?

I know there will be people in my life who will never understand who I'm meant to be, and my heart breaks thinking about it because I don't want them to be afraid of me. I haven't "changed", I'm just finally who I was always meant to become. I know there are gonna be people who think I've sold myself to "the world" or something, how do I make them understand?

Luficer says: "Heaven never listens. They didnt listen to me..." and my heart clenches

Charlie says he cant know that and Luficer says with tears in eyes: "I DO" and my own eyes fill with tears

Lucifer sings: "My dreams were too hard to defend" and I feel that deep in my own soul.

Some of us were meant to be rejected for what we're meant to do, and rejection is the biggest fear of every kid who's grown up in the church.

Hazbin isn't perfect, I will never claim it is, but GOD is this depiction of Lucifer something special. What other character can perfectly show what kids who grew up in the church feel?

#okay im done #i dont care that Hazbin isnt “Biblically accurate” or whatever #cause thats not the point and never was #as an artist whos Christian i appreciate what Hazbin is *attempting* to do with Heaven and Hell and Lucifer #i love tiny lil Lucifer so much he means a lot to me #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #lucifer morningstar

281 notes · View notes

qprpbj · 15 days ago

Note

saw brent's story of the pastor costume

mind immediately went to religious trauma darry

then mind immediately went to you

please give us more thoughts

“then mind immediately went to you” well yes 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

ok i need you to hear me out and walk with me for this one. ponyboy about as atheist as they come bc he’s so naturally curious and i can’t see him taking religion at face value — is always questioning and looking for deeper meanings etc. soda who loves having god to believe in, probably prays pretty often esp post parents-death, says grace at mealtime if he can remember — he genuinely gives me very casually religious vibes idk why but i stand by it.

darry though. sigh. i think he WANTS to have religion in his life but if we’re going the gay route, obviously like…he grew up in a church in the midwest 50s where it’d be beat into his head that he is fundamentally made wrong and. you know. the internalized homophobia and religious guilt mix is nottttt to be played with. i think he doesn’t ever have gfs and kinda just fucks around and jumps headfirst into his studies (bc he needs grades more than girls anyway) and probably stops going to church around like. early teenage years, then by mid teenage years he meets paul and they begin their. whatever they do. i fr stand by that they alwaysss without fail meet on sunday mornings bc paul too has (more recently) dropped out of church and would rather spend sunday mornings w darry than be there. if they’re gonna be sinners n supposedly go to hell either way they may as well act on it and feel good in the moment u know

i also think entirely besides the whole Gay Thing™️ that he has a lottt of frustrations with god and with the idea of believing in higher power after his parents die. i think before it’s not so bad, he never had a family to worry about and his biggest beef w the church was them calling him a sinner for being gay but that’s like. he can sorta get over it if he stays closeted forever. but now it’s like. he’s getting told everything happens for a reason and this is all in gods plan by everyone he meets and he can’t even begging to understand why. why god has it out for him, why his family, what he did so wrong. i think he entirely rejects the concept of religion after this whereas soda probably leans more into it and seeks god for guidance which could be an interesting sorta rift between them and how they both personally cope. i do believe that when pony does missing for the week in windrixville darry is so so exhausted and at his wits end (considering “throwing in the towel”, whatever you personally think that means for him!) that he prays to his parents instead of god and asks for their help in bringing his baby brother home <3 (and it works!!!!!!!!)

this, of course, is all entirely separate from the fact that darry is a very by the book guy. he doesn’t play about fact and has little room for opinion in his head and beliefs. i think that def factors into how much he genuinely believes in god vs how much he thought he should growing up. if that makes any sense

#the outsiders #asks #outsiders musical #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #curtis brothers #sodapop curtis #darry curtis religious trauma i love you #peril

46 notes · View notes

sugoi-writes · 7 months ago

Text

Nun!Alastor x Reader - The Confessional - Part 1

It's 1 AM, and @st-alastors-confessional has me foaming at the mouth. I wrote this far-too-long drabble based off of the MOD's Nun Alastor. Please please enjoy!

Warning: Not proofread in the slightest, with implications of sacrilege and sinning behavior. You've been warned! I might do another part with more debauchery down the road hehe

The sermon was going swimmingly, all things considered. The Pastor and Priest, St. Vox, lead with a soulful, boisterous tone. Albeit, he had always led his sermons with a strong, charismatic energy. He left the congregation absolutely enraptured, waiting on hand and foot for him to speak again.... You, another sinner among the crowd, tried to absorb what you could from his ravings and ramblings.

Clearly, when you wound up in Hell... you found out the hard way that God was, indeed, real. You had long been a on-Christian, and even if you still weren't... you couldn't look the facts in the face and say they weren't true. It was a simple notion:

God was real. You were not a loyal believer. You did a bad thing or two, and now you're in a church in the heart of the Pentagram, seeking answers.

You were hoping to find a way to get into Heaven... St. Vox's approach was very traditional, almost 'Dark Ages' approach. A phrase you heard once or twice rung through your mind, clear as the morning church bells:

" When a coin in the coffer rings, a soul in purgatory springs..."... no, was it sings??? That, you werent sure... either way--

Many wealthier, gullible sinners would shove money towards the Church, desperate to buy their way out of Hell. The more meek, kind hearted sinners would often throw money to the offering plates to prevent their love ones from suffering the same fate... Whether their monetary sacrifices were successful or not... well, that's yet to be seen. And no one truly know where that money goes...

And so you searched and listened in the pews patiently, hoping that something would reveal itself to you... Would living justly get you out of here? Would denouncing sin in its entirety get you the ticket out of this hellhole? Hell, did you need to declare yourself celibate? You certainly wouldn't be opposed, after some of the shit you saw on Day One...

In all honestly, you'd be willing to throw a few dollars in the pot on the off chance your gut was wrong about St. Vox's approach. As you know, your intuition had led you astray before...

You were five Sundays deep in this contrived drivel, and yet, you still had questions... The questions that plagued your mind could only be answered by the Priest, ideally during Confessional tonight... But, as you tried your best to stay awake through another biblical tangent, you were startled by a choral uproar. The choir, made entirely of clergy, was the closest thing to Heavenly that they, or any sinner, could hear in Hell.

Honest efforts were being made to sing the hymns and profess the Gospel accurately. The pitches and incantations were perfectly admirable, even enjoyable... and surprisingly, all of this was all done in Latin. It was nearly enough to raise goosebumps across your flesh, your senses pleased by the perfect, harmonious progressions.

One among the nuns who sung, with strong, crimson features, met your gaze in the middle of the refrain. You felt the gaze burrowing into you deeper, trembling subconscious as the song made you sway along.

A pointed, yellowed smile graced your eyes as the deer demon sang along. The overall tone of the higher melodic line had felt like cashmere; it was refined and soft due to their(?) unique voice texture. It was a tone that you felt was familiar... a comforting one. You couldnt put your tongue on it, squinting slightly at the demure nun. They(?) seemed to notice your infatuation, their hands folding neatly together and clasping a fine, ornate rosary. Their hands were elegant, long and thin, reminding you of a Royal... surely, those hands were used for more than empty prayer?

You felt your mind run to impurities and sin almost instantly, panicking as you tore your sight away from the Nun. You felt your throat running dry as you shook your head in shock. You couldn't be thinking this way about a nun-- a NUN? Quite literally, a celibate being, devoted to God and His work. This felt... wrong. So wrong, even for a sinner like you.

Your legs brushed tightly against one another, hoping to stiffle the feeling that pooled in your core. You watched the way that the Nun's chest rose and fell, how the angular jaw was complimented by the small, bobbed tufts that framed it. Your eyes became lost in the visual stimuli as you pondered just how demure and sweet this Nun must have looked under the habit...

You bite the inside of your cheek as you felt the Nun's eyes still looking to you, as if they KNEW exactly what you were thinking. 'If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I might catch a cold,' your mind mimicked in their voice.

You felt indecent, completely exposed to someone who you should be regarding as an example of purity and devotion...

As the hymn finally concluded, the Priest dismissed the clergy. He was swiftly wrapping things up as the coffers and offering plates made their rounds around the room. The nuns assisted, coming row by row to collect generous donations and desperate offerings. You felt yourself stiffen as you noticed the red and black demon making their way closer to you, voice teeming with a startling sweetness.

"Blessings unto you, dear Sinner. Many thanks. ...Blessings unto you, dear. How has your mother been fairing--?"

As the velvety voice grew closer to you, you felt yourself unable to move, paralyzed with fear. What if they knew you were lusting over them so superficially? Would they be able to tell?

You nearly fell into the aisle as a sinner slammed into you from behind, thrusting money towards the chaste nun," Pl-Please!!!! Please, this is all that I have!!! Sister Alastor, Sister Alastor!!! Bless me!!! Bless me, Sister!!!"

The Demon nun took pause at your row, noticing you struggling under the weight of the sinner on top of you. Your lungs felt like they were being squeezed shut, unable to expand in their efforts. You pushed with all of your might, eyes closed as you fought back," W-Watch it, you f-- Ugh, you putrid FUCK!!! Get off me!!!"

Swiftly, Sister Alastor's hand was on the neck of the sinner, squeezing tightly as he gasped and gurgled. The nun simply smiled, head tilted," Dear sinner! Your penance is null and void if you cast discomfort and pain upon thine neighbor!" The nun's neck practically snapped at velocity they cocked their head up, looking downcast at the panicking demon. Unable to look up, you missed the smile Alastor wore, threatening to tear the demonic face of the nun in two.

"Take your vile hands and cast them into the River Styx... for your blood money is not welcome in these halls... Now leave this scared place. "

The sinner gasps, coughing and sputtering as he scrambles away, causing you to fall forward out of your pew. Just when you think you're about to eat shit: two large, taloned hands delicately hold you aloft.

"Are you unharmed, little lamb?" You blink for a moment, looking up slowly... only to find Sister Alastor's face an inch from your own. You stuttered as your hot breath fanned against his face, your legs threatening to give out under you.

"Y-Yes, Im-- I'm quite alright. Thank you, Sister..." You allow Alastor to place you back onto your feet, the hands of the docile-looking demon smoothing out your outfit and brushing off imaginary debris.

"I apologize for making you intervene. Thank you-- I would've been trampled to death, were it not for you." The deer Demon's smile could have made the devil tremble... but to you, it seemed entirely sincere," Thank me not, dear Lamb. For the Lord always calls upon his disciples to help those in need." Alastor takes a step away from you, bowing their head and giving you a polite curtsy.

"Alas, I must be away. But, should you need to seek council... the Lord always has room to hear out your wayward strifes and confessions." You reach out and almost touch the Nun's habit, sheepishly blushing when you sense the farmer's flinch.

"A-Actually... will the Priest be seeing anyone for Confession tonight? I... I have concerns. Concerns I feel like he could help me through... Im troubled, and just..." Your eyes are downcast, unable to look at the devilishly handsome demon," Im... concerned about my salvation. And need advice on how better to achieve it... or, if its really too late for me now."

You feel your heart leap into your throat as the Nun's head pulls off a complete 180° spin, the body following suit a moment after. Alastor clasps both of your hands in his own, smile wide and full of glee," But of course! Our hallowed halls could never deny such an honest soul seeking the Lord's guidance!" Alastor's head grows closer to yours, voice hushing. You're forced to lean in too, his voice hardly above a whisper.

"However, he will be unable to see anyone just yet. Return at the Witching Hour... he will have an audience with you then." Your eyes widened as you smiled back, eagerly shaking the nun's hands," O-Oh thank you-- Thank you!!! I appreciate that! I'll be back soon, then. Bless you, Sister Alastor! "

You nod and bow back to the nun, who regards you evenly but warmly, before watching you leave. You did not see the smirk that spread across Alastor's face... the glint of excitement that lights up his candy red eyes.

Oh, he knows damn well that Vox will not seek an audience with you that late in the night... who best to stand in for the Priest other than himself... the Mother Superior?

His mind festers with demented excitement as you stumbled out of the church, looking like a scared, timid doe... Oh, how he would enjoy seeing you again. He would need to prepare for your visit... after all, you would be doing your fair share of confessing AND atoning for your sins... your eyes hid nothing from him. And he was going to enjoy seeing them well up with blissful tears, a wanton expression gracing your cheeks...

The click of the nun's shoes echoed as he followed the other clergy members elegantly, his face not giving anything away. Oh Lord, how you've blessed him with a most delightful pleasure... he'd be sure to repent for his indecency later.

#nun!alastor #nun alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #radio demon #alastor the radio demon #ahahah i tried keeping things tame but Nun Alastor makes my brain m e lt #i very much enjoy the blurssed imagery of alastor as a nun #i hope yall enjoy it too!!!#this was cranked out in one sitting so i hope this isnt SHIT AHAH

101 notes · View notes