#tw priest kink

[bloodibambiidoll]

† Pray To Me †

♱ Kinktober Day 1 ⟢ Rafe Cameron ⟢ Priest/Corruption ♱

Warnings: Sacrilegion all over the place, nun!reader, improper use of a crucifix and rosary, face fucking, spanking, cum licking, unprotected sex, choking, a lil bit of blood, biting, spit kink, corruption 18+MNDI

Rafe was damn near possessed by you. Ever since you arrived at the covent you were all he could think about and watching you take your vows only made him want you more. You weren’t like the other nuns who surrounded him. They were either all doe eyed virgins who followed his word as if he were god himself or elderly women who haven’t been touched in so long they got flustered every time he licked his lips or smirked at them. All of them wanted to fuck him and several of them have. Rafe knows he’s a shit priest, probably even a shit person. If the sick satisfaction he feels from making a woman who vowed herself to god and only god kneel before him with his cock down her throat is anything to go by. Every single woman, and even some men in this church throw themselves at Rafe’s feet, all except you.

No matter how hard he tries to get you to warm up to him or even just smile and talk to him in any semblance of a friendly tone his efforts are fruitless. You were always glaring at him when he spoke with this look in your eyes like you couldn’t wait for him to shut the fuck up. You weren’t ever straight up rude because that would be inappropriate but your voice was always monotone and you never gave him more than one or two word responses. And Rafe knows for a fact that’s not just how you are because he’s seen you laughing with the other nuns and you give the other priests friendly smiles. It was only him you treated this way and it was about damn time he found out why.

You never took confessional with Rafe because you specifically requested that he never be the one on the other side of that wall but he knows for a fact you always go on Monday nights. Almost like you’re starting the week with washing yourself of your sins.

He has no idea what those sins are though. You showed up a few months ago and didn’t say much about your past, just that your mother’s dying wish was that you follow in her footsteps and take your vows. He has no idea who you were before that. He doesn’t even know what your hair looks like aside from the tiniest strand that slipped out of your coif once. If he hadn’t honed it on it seconds before you tucked it away he still wouldn’t even know what color it was. So he decides to take matters into his own hands and give Father Daniels the evening off. Maybe you’ll even say something about why you hate him so much. Either way he can’t wait to learn literally anything about you, anything he could use in his favor.

You feel like you are going insane. You have this itch that you feel like you’ll never scratch. And that itches name is Father Rafe Cameron. You came here after your mother’s death fully prepared to give up all your worldly possessions, swear off men, and follow whatever path god had laid out for you. You weren’t a virgin by any means. The life you lived before this was filled with sex, drugs and chaos. But as your poor mother who always tried her best despite the fact that you never saw eye to eye lay dying she begged you to take your vows. Just like she did after you were born, after all your so-called father put her through. You rejected this notion your entire life. You dyed your hair and got tattoos in your friends living rooms. Screamed at your mom every Sunday when she tried to get you to go to church with her. You left as soon as you were eighteen and hardly ever visited. But something about the way she seemed so at peace, so happy to go and be with her god, and the love in her eyes as the light left them had you changing your mind. You don’t agree with a lot of the bullshit the church spews but you’re still trying your best to follow your vows without also losing your morals and sense of self entirely but this man is making it damn near impossible.

Rafe is for lack of better words, infuriatingly gorgeous. His dirty blonde hair is always slicked back to perfection, showing off his striking blue eyes and beautifully refined bone structure. His large frame filled out the black slacks and button up shirt he wore deliciously, his Roman collar hugging his throat. The way his big hands gripped the Bible while he read scripture and each time he licked the tips of his fingers before turning the page you had to clench your thighs. The way that he walked around like he was god himself, flirting with everyone in sight while looking down at them as if he could read their impure thoughts about him. It all was just leading you further and further down the path of sin.

Rafe had every single person in the covent wrapped around his finger. But it wasn’t out of respect, no. They either feared him or wanted him. You’ve heard through the grapevine that several of your sisters have indulged in the sins of the flesh due to him and you can’t say you blame them. But you don’t want to just indulge in him, you want to drown in him utterly and completely. Devote your blood and your life to him. And you know he wants you too. He’s basically told you that he would burn this entire church down for you. Fulfilling your mom’s dying wish becomes harder everyday. So each Monday you confess your blasphemous thoughts to Father Daniels. You’re sure he’s either judging you, turned on or both but he never says more than a few words aside from a grunt of acknowledgement here and there. That’s about as unbiased as you’re going to get. You sigh to yourself as you adjust your veil on your head and open the confessional door.

Rafe was practically vibrating with lust as he sat opposite of you in the confessional booth. He caught the slightest glimpse of you as you entered but he pressed his back against the wall and hid his face in the shadows to ensure you didn’t see him. Not yet at least. He intends to make himself known when the time is right.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned. It's been one week since my last confessional.” Your sweet voice fills the wooden box confining the two of you and vibrates through Rafe’s soul. Lucky for him he’s been in this booth with Father Daniels enough to know the man hardly speaks so he just gives you a grunt of acknowledgement, encouraging you to go on. “Everyday I swear it gets harder to not commit the sins of the flesh. No matter what I do to push down these impure thoughts, or run away from them, they continue to eat my insides.”

Rafe feels his cock stir in his pants at your words. Are you talking about him? Do you have an ex from before you came here? If that was the case, that wouldn’t do. He hums low in his throat and you take that as a sign to go on.

“It’s like he’s everywhere I look, father.” You sigh deeply and Rafe can hear the slight thud of your head hitting the wood behind you. “I’m as rude as I can be to him without being inappropriate but nothing deters his affections it seems.” You stir slightly, as if waiting for a response but when Rafe stays silent you take a shaky breath. “My fantasies about Father Cameron used to only haunt me at night, with my hand between my legs. But now it’s as if every waking moment of my life I am consumed by my cravings for him.”

Rafe exhales deeply through his nose as his cock hardens in his slacks. He feels saliva pool in his mouth and it takes everything in him not to reveal himself right this moment. But not yet, he needs to know more.

“I want him so badly, father.” Rafe hears the beads on your rosary click against those pretty little rings you wear and all he can think about is pulling it taunt around your throat. “I think about him fucking me more than anything else. More than any of my vows. More than god. I find myself wanting to kneel at his feet instead. And each day this promise I made my mother starts to feel more and more meaningless if I can’t feel his thick cock inside me.” You wait a few beats to see if he will respond but when you’re met with silence you fill it with more of your filthy fantasies. “I fantasize about him bending me over the pews during service and how his big hands would feel gliding across my body, those long fingers deep in my pussy. I want him to fuck me like a slut and make me pray to him like he’s my god while I beg him to cum.”

Arousal builds in your stomach and you rock back and forth with your legs crossed subconsciously seeking friction. The tiny red thong underneath your tunic cupping your cunt like a dirty little secret. Rafe can’t take it anymore, his thoughts turned primal the minute you said his name and the longer you go on the tighter his pants get until he feels like the zipper is going to burst from how hard he is.

“You’re right, those are some very impure thoughts…” Rafe’s voice is low and filled with lust and it makes you gasp. Your hand clutches the rosary around your neck tightly to your chest and your foot darts out and smacks against the door in front of you.

“Father - Father Cameron?” The sudden sound of his voice has your heart rate spiking and your clit practically thumping between your legs. The mixture of arousal and fear shouldn’t feel so delicious washing over your body, but it does. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, doll, it’s me.” Rafe licks his lips, feeling like a mountain lion that cornered a fawn. “If you want me to fuck you like a dirty little whore, all you have to do is ask.”

“I think you know why I couldn’t do that…” Your chest heaves as you struggle to breathe. This can’t be happening.

“Mmm, why? Because god doesn’t want you to get your pussy stretched so far you feel like you're going to split in half?” Rafe chuckles darkly as he leans against the screen separating the two of you, just barely making out your outline. “To be honest, it doesn’t seem like you really care about that.” You start to protest but Rafe shushes you. “It’s too late to make excuses, sweetheart. You told me all I needed to know. Get out of this booth and kneel on the ground in front of it. Now.”

In your mind you know you need to protest, walk out of this room and go to bed like none of this ever happened. But your pussy has a mind of her own. So you push the door open softly and step out before settling on your knees in front of the door Rafe is behind. After what feels like eons but was probably only a few seconds the wooden door swings open, revealing Rafe’s large frame. He has to duck down to go through the small opening before stepping toward you with a wicked look in his eyes and a cheshire smirk painted on his perfect lips. He towers over you, glowering down at you for a moment, taking you in. You were so fucking perfect for him. Those big wide eyes that at first glance seemed innocent but he now knows the dirty thoughts that hide behind them. Your lips are red and plush, like you’ve been biting them the entire time you’ve been here. And the way your hands are clasped in your lap is just the icing on the goddamn cake.

“Fuckin’ look at you.” Rafe’s large hand cups the side of your face and he runs his thumb along your bottom lip, smearing the bit of spit that gathered there. His other hand abruptly grips onto your veil, pulling it and your coif from your head in one swoop. Your hair falls free and Rafe can finally see you for the first time. The hand on your face turns rough as he grips tightly onto your jaw, his other hand gathering your hair so he can yank your head back to look at him. “So goddamn gorgeous. Show me the rest of you. Take that shit off.”

It isn’t a question, it’s a command. And it makes your pussy clench around nothing. You expect him to release his grip on your face but he doesn’t so you push your robes down your arms to the best of your ability. Not only did you have on the pretty little red thong but you had on the lace bra that matched. Rafe’s eyes nearly exploded out of his head at the sight and he never felt like he was going to cum in his pants until he caught sight of the upside down cross tattoo nestled between your tits peeking out through the red lace. You struggle to shimmy your robes the rest of the way down your hips so Rafe decides to help you out by yanking you up by your hair enough for your hips to raise off the ground. The sting of your scalp makes you whimper as you remove the rest of your clothes. You're kneeled in front of a Rafe in the middle of the church in nothing but red lace, white thigh highs, little Mary Jane’s and your rosary. It should feel crude and unclean, you should feel shame, but you feel nothing but carnal desire.

“I fuckin’ knew you were a little whore.” Rafe growls and yanks on the beads around your neck, pulling them tight until they’re slightly cutting off your airflow. “Open your mouth.” You stick your tongue out for good measure and he leans down and spits on it before shoving two of his fingers down your throat, causing you to gag. He curls his fingers in the back of your throat before fucking your mouth with his long digits.

Rafe revels in the way saliva gathers in your mouth and drips down his fingers and wrist as he makes you gag for him. That tiny amount of mascara that you think you’re getting away with that he never misses starts to stream down your cheeks as a few tears escape your eyes. And your hair is more beautiful than he could’ve ever imagined. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a gasp and his large palm cups your face, rubbing your spit across your lips and chin. Rafe never lets go of your hair as he undoes his belt and pulls his cock out. “Now be a good little nun and suck my fuckin’ cock.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice as you push yourself up further onto your knees so you can grab onto his shaft. It's thick and heavy in your hand with so much precum dripping from the tip that some drips onto the red carpet. “Well, don’t fuckin’ waste it.” Rafe yanks your head down so far your face is inches from the ground, hovering directly over the drops of his cum. “Clean it up.”

You hesitate for a moment because what he’s asking you to do is so fucking disgusting but when you glance up at him, towering over you like he really is a god, you can’t help but let your tongue dart out and lick the floor. His cum is wet and salty but you hardly get a taste before the feeling of the rough carpet replaces it.

“Oh, you’re so fuckin’ disgusting. Now choke on my dick.” Rafe pulls you back up to his cock and you run your tongue around every inch of his shaft before taking it in your mouth, all the way down your throat.You swallow around him causing your throat to squeeze his dick and then pull off all the way and spit on his head, watching the drool drip down his shaft and onto his balls.

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a sick, little, cock slut.” Rafe growls and grips onto both of your cheeks so he can shove his cock back down your throat. He gives you no time to process before he’s brutally fucking your mouth. You gag and drool without breaking eye contact with him and Rafe swears to god he might end up being the one praying to you at night. He pulls you off his cock and onto your feet by your throat and then he’s kissing you filthy. He practically devours you with his tongue as his hands travel down your body. He pulls on the hook of your bra before yanking the lace from your tits, giving him a full view of your tits but also that little upside down cross tattoo inked between them.

“Jesus Christ, I knew they’d be perfect.” Rafe looks at your tits like they’re the most delicious delicacy he’s ever seen before leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. He licks and sucks until you’re dripping with his spit and then he bites down on your cleavage so hard he breaks the skin. His fingers lace through your rosary and he uses it to pull your face forward, almost like a leash. “Go bend over that pew, I’m going to make your nasty little fantasies come true.”

“Fuck, Father, are you sure we should be doing this here? What if someone comes in?” For the first time since you found out Rafe was behind that wall you are aware of your surroundings. You’re practically naked in the middle of your church, letting your priest defile you.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart. And it’s daddy, to you.” Rafe exhales through his nostrils while pulling the beads so tight that they choke you and pinch your skin. “Never wanna hear you call me ‘Father Cameron’ again. From now on it’s my name or daddy. Got it?” You nod and that isn’t going to do it for him. “Use your words to address me. Tell me you understand.”

“Yes, daddy. I understand.” Rafe’s lips break out into a sinister smile. He has you right where he wants you and he’s never letting you go now.

“Good. Now be a good little fuck doll and bend your ass over that pew for me.” You oblige him, feeling equal parts aroused and humiliated as your body bends over the wooden bench. Rafe straight up growls at the sight of you. Those white socks squeeze your plush thighs, cupping the bottom part of your perfect ass that has that little red thong nestled between it. Your pussy is so fucking creamy the crotch of the lace is white and it’s smeared on your legs. And the star of the show? The little bow tramp stamp tattooed on your lower back.

“Well, would you look at that…” Rafe says in a sing-song tone as he approaches you. One of his hands grabs your ass roughly while the other comes to trace a finger along the ink on your back. “You're a lot more naughty than you let on, aren’t you, Angel? Maybe I should punish you for your sins and make you beg for forgiveness?”

“I’m not - I’m not sure what you mean by that, Fa- daddy.” You catch your mistake at the last second, but Rafe doesn’t miss it. Both of his hands come down on either of your asscheeks causing you to jolt forward with a yelp.

“It means I’m going to beat this little ass and you’re going to say ‘thank you daddy’ for every single one.” Rafe spanks your ass with his hand again but the crucifix on top of the Bible next to him is just too good to pass up. He picks it up and runs the cool wood along your ass. He glides it through your dripping folds causing you to look back with a moan. “How about eighteen, since you’re such a sinner? Count.”

“Are you going to use -“ You don’t get to finish asking because your question is quickly answered by the sharp sting of the wooden cross in your ass. “Oh, fuck! One, thank you daddy.”

“Oh good, you’re a quick learner.” He hits you with five more before leaning over to whisper in your ear “that’s six.” And then six more, each harder than the last and you thank him for each and every one. “That’s another six, little sinner.” You expect him to do the last six in succession but after three he pauses to roughly rub the end of the cross against your clit.

“These next ones are gonna hurt real bad.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he kicks your feet further apart before bringing the crucifix between your legs and smacking it against your pussy.

“Oh my goddd, S- Sixteen! Thank you daddy!” Your legs are shaking as you brace yourself for the last two blows. Rafe glides the cross along your inner thigh and back up to your ass before flipping it over and spanking you with the bronzed Jesus, once on each cheek. “Jesus fucking Christ! Seventeen! Eighteen! thank you daddy.” Your body falls limp while you pant, trying to catch your breath as your ass and pussy throb.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.” Rafe rips your panties down your ankles, not bothering to pull them off all the way and runs his fingers through your folds. “Perfect fuckin’ pussy. I’m gonna goddamn destroy you.”

He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them clean with a groan. You hear his belt buckle clank and his zipper being pulled down before you feel the head of his cock tapping against your clit. He runs it along your folds, gliding through your wetness with ease. Rafe slides his cock through your asscheeks, smearing your cum around your little hole. He lines up with your dripping entrance and slams into you balls deep in one push. Then he’s fucking into you brutally, no build up, no mercy.

“I knew this little cunt would be so goddamn tight.” Rafe snarls in your ear while one hand grips your ass that’s already breaking out in cross shaped bruises and the other comes up to lace around your rosary, using it as leverage as he continues to buck into you with reckless abandon. “You’re such a depraved whore, letting me fuck you in the middle of the church where anyone could walk in. You're no saint, you're just a sick little pervert.”

“You’re just as disgusting as I am, Rafe.” You glare at him over your shoulder and he looks like the definition of sin. He yanked his collar off and a few buttons down of his shirt at some point showing the gold chain cross against the top of his toned chest, his blonde hair is a complete mess, and the smile painted on his lips is one only a devil would wear. He yanks your rosary until your back is flush against his chest and it’s so tight around your neck you’re surprised it hasn’t snapped.

“Oh, baby doll, you think this is disgusting? If you could see the things that go through my mind when I look at you then you’d know what the meaning of vile really is.” Rafe growls in your ear and angles his hips so his thick cock is hitting you so deep it has your pussy dripping down his balls and onto both of your thighs. He continues to choke you while finding your clit with his other hand so he can rub rough circles on it. “You gonna come for me? Tell me I’m your god while you cream all over my cock.”

“You’re - you’re my god! Please make me come, god!” You writhe against him and he runs his tongue along the length of your throat before biting down on your neck until you bleed. It sends you over the edge, euphoria overtaking you as your pussy gushes around him.

“Yeah, that’s my good little slut, cum for your god.” Rafe presses on your lower back so you're bent back over the pew before gripping onto your hips and pounding into you like a man possessed. “You’re mine now. I own every corrupted piece of you. Your soul. Your body. Your blood. It’s all fuckin’ mine. Tell me.”

“I’m yours, I’m all yours. You’re my god, daddy.” Rafe roars as his hands come down on the bench either side of your head and his hips flush against yours. His cock twitches inside of you while ropes of his cum pump into your pussy. The feeling has an explosion of pleasure washing over you as you cum right along with him. After a moment Rafe pushes off of you, his cock slipping out of you and leaving you feeling empty. His large hands grip onto your shoulders, pulling you up and flipping you over so you’re looking at him.

“I meant that shit, you’re fuckin’ mine. Go pack your shit. We’re leaving.” He captures your lips in a messy kiss and god, you wish you had it in you to turn him down and pretend this never happened. But you’ve had one hit of him and now you're addicted. You’re his.

Tagging Rafe mooties: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess @eddiesxangel @cameronsprincess @nemesyaaa @rafeinterlude @rafeyscurtainbangs @gri959 @dreamliners @starkeyisthelastname

Divider by @strangergraphics

[undercover-sub]

Hiii! I gotta ask, if it's not too personal! How'd the religion / priest kink come about? Have you played into it at all?

Im fascinated, I wanna know everything! 😄

Heyaaa! Good question, I wish I had a proper answer for it ��

I did grew up catholic (some people say that explains everything^^) but I'm not religious and I've excommunicated quite some time ago.

I think it's not really the religious aspect of it that I personally find enticing, it's the imbalance of power. And the idea of worship that comes along with it. There's just something about the piety of a priest (and their vows) being broken for you or their own "impure" urges that does something for me. The idea that they can corrupt you due to their position of power - or the other way around (like the idea of them being so attracted and/or enamored by you that they turn away from god?!?). And I'm a huge fan of body worship, both giving and receiving. Also, just so the list is complete: men (or women, or enbys) wearing cassocks, for some reason I can't actually name, are freaking attractive 🙈

I haven't really played into it though. Loads of people are not really into it or find it weird, which I can understand. And if anything, both parties should enjoy it. Maybe I'll be lucky to find somebody who's into it one day.

Thanks so much for the ask! 😊

[gladiatorcunt]

- A ROTTEN TREE BEARS ROTTEN FRUIT | I.

god loves you, but not enough to save you

cw: kinktober prompt (whipping/flogging), blasphemy, inaccurate religious practices, lyrical sadomasochism (more so sadism on his part), erotic religious imagery and references, this dynamic is so weird, implied (as in in my mind) bi reader and charlie, plus sized reader, reader’s chest referred to as ‘breasts’ & ‘tits’ and their crotch referred to as a ‘hole’ but they do have a seperate one other than their ass, pregnancy fantasy, vomit mention, don’t know shit about the show fuck you ryan, blood kink, interchangeable ‘charlie’ & ‘mayhew’ based on pov

do not translate, repost, or feed this work to ai |

kinktober 2024

“Shh, let me clean you up, Father.” You smile, so softly, he could snap your neck if he squeezed hard enough.

You run your nails over his back, trimmed to an appropriate length. Father Mayhew sighs the way Adam might’ve when Eve’s walls clenched around him, God never being more important than this bliss. You’re so devoted, so devout in your worship but he’s beginning to think that you cry out to a different God than he does. If you even believe in an invisible one anymore when you have a savior in the flesh.

“Thank you, dear. That’d be great.” The pulls are pulled from his lips like rotund wooden beads, as if he has no choice but to endure the stretch as they exit his body one by one.

You shuffle off the bed and kneel behind him, stroking your fingertips down his back like he’s a marble statue you just can’t help but reach out and touch. The opposite of Delilah cutting Samson’s hair, you only want to imbue him with your pure love from the inside out. Spooning milk and honey over the tender welts.

His eyelids crinkle as you kiss the nape of his neck, blotting your lips with rouge. There is no inch of his back left without, and when you arrive at the bigger gashes you lavish the cut with your tongue. Drinking his life away and cleaning him up like a good little whore, servicing the man becomes the only thing of importance to you. You dip the tip of your tongue in the recess of the deeper wounds, and caress his tensing abs from behind when he grits his teeth and traps a curse behind them. You only kitten lick him, but often he wishes you would get real dirty with it, caressing your tongue over his muscles in broad and messy swipes.

His scars from previous lashings glint in the low light of the candles surrounding you. You give them their just desserts of course, grateful pecks of attention and acknowledgement. Soothing his pain, that is the only excuse you have to encroach on the verge of breaking your vows. Father Mayhew gives you a purpose and stops your bleating with a heavy hand if you forget your place. Stern hand to raw and stinging flesh.

Sometimes there is no pillow when you kneel behind him.

The next step is that you turn around and face the wall after picking up the cattail whip off the bed and returning it to its rightful owner. You’ve already discarded your habit, no tunic, coif, or veil left on your person. They’re folded neatly beside you, only your rosary nestled in the embrace of your heaving breasts. Your peaks harden in the stuffy humid air, all the oxygen in the world confined to this small room.

He saddles up behind you, his sweaty chest so close to the flesh and contours of your back. Father Charlie breathes you in, taking whiffs of your debauched scent in between silent prayers. He never allows himself to be as forward as you are, his thread of control over his desire has not snapped yet. There are boundaries he can push, but lines he can never cross.

“Good lamb, God recognizes your penance and forgives your soul.” He whispers, dragging the strips of leather down your back until goosebumps rise to the surface.

When you least expect it, he strikes. You muffle a shout into the wall and Father Charlie’s cock jumps under his towel. Briefly he imagines slamming into your tempting body dry, with no preparation, making you sure you feel as much pain as possible. The way you’d wince with every step around the church, the begging in your puppy dog eyes when you’d take communion. How he could hold it above your head like a bone in the shape of a fractured cross, dangling just out of reach of your gorgeous mouth.

The devil gives him dreams of fucking your throat until you’re vomiting and hoarse.

Every droplet of bed peeking out from the cracks of your skin to say hello nourishes him. He shushes you when you’re unable to hold back your sounds, cooing when he notices you humping the air after the fifteenth hit. You just can’t help yourself, nerdy by nature and nurture.

You start soaking the pillow beneath you, imagining what he must look like. A man and his broad hulking body curling around you as he hurts you. Your hole suddenly feels so empty, you have a night of riding your pillow ahead of you, you just want to be good for him in all the ways you’re supposed to be.

As you let a demon of sex control your body, he spies a flash of a white lacy thong nestled between your plump ass cheeks. He knows that if you had also worn a towel, he would’ve hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it off. You don’t get to hide any part of yourself from your Father. And he knows he will have to give himself another lashing for those thoughts alone. Even the secret wedding he plans as he strokes his angry red cock, always edging himself, he’s afraid of what would happen if he lets go. How loud the iron gates would be when they creak open. Like the way he wants to spread your ass open and toy with the hidden puckered hole.

His words are in his actions, reopening your old wounds and bringing the warm leather across your back one last time, he hopes your blood soaks through the material. Staining it, the way you have already stained his heart. Father Charlie grins despite himself when you slump against the wall, sliding his bible-roughened hands over your love handles and sticks his pecs to your shoulders.

“You did lovely, today. The Lord thanks you, and I’m so proud of you, you know that?” His thick fingers brush along the bottoms of your tits, never going higher.

He wants to slap them, wrap the beads of your rosary around them until the flesh bulges, painting your nipples in a mix of both of your blood. Marking your souls irreversibly. Marriage of the spirit, a ritualistic wedding in the eyes of the beholder. You shiver like a mouse in front of a snake, and beads of precum fall from his cockhead.

Did Saint Teresa have these feelings when she had the vision of an angel piercing her heart with their golden spear? Did Saint Sebastian when he was pierced by those arrows under the order of the Emperor? Did David when he wrenched Goliath’s head back by his hair and bested him into humiliation? Did it compare to the covenant he formed with Jonathan?

He kisses your glittering scars in thanks and washes your blood away with his lips and tongue too. But unlike any other day in which you’ve done this, he stands up with a grunt and pulls you up with him. Father Mayhew falls backwards onto his bed and so you follow dutifully, and because the hold he has on your wrist is strong to the point of bruising. You lay your head over his heart and pant into his skin as he teases your plush thigh, tracing crosses into the chubby expanse of skin.

“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” He cajoles, walking on that burning tightrope with you.

He wonders if your cunt would be just as chubby, if you’ve ever thought about humping the organ bench, riper than the forbidden fruit, and he mentally catalogs an extra long session of repentance. To be fresh and clean again. Father Charlie will go through his sermons with his lighthearted tone and charming personality, desperate to hide that he’s thinking of plunging his tongue in your asshole. Sipping and slurping up your musk like it’s the only holy water he needs to live. Or entice you into eating his ass, you would love being able to serve him properly, no doubt.

To nourish you with his fragments, his vertebrae and viscera. The body and the blood. The teeth and the testicles.

He’ll sit in quiet contemplation in front of the pulpit, pouring wine over your body in his mind. Following the red trail with his tongue as it trickles down the valley of your chest and dips in and out the folds of your belly. He’ll leisurely open his mouth on a silent moan at the top of your mound, the hairs like yellowing blades of glades against his philtrum, in a perfect paradise there’d be blood there too. His own personal, pervertedly literal, red sea.

You’d look so beautiful, swollen and fat with a child growing in your womb. A shame that can never happen, but a blessing that no heretic of a man could snatch you up and take you away from him. Your flock is here, and the heavy crook of his staff is all you need to guide you back home when you go astray. Trapped in his thighs, molded by his hands, punctured into line with his cock.

[greengoblinswifey]

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

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

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

a/n— written while listening to religion by lana del rey. this is longggg but worth it <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re my religion,” you whispered.

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

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

[doing-something-unholy]

Father Adrian's journal, Aug 5th

I was dreading a day like this.

I've been trying, really trying, to get back on the path of holiness, but sin has taken root so deeply in my life it's become habit. I think I was having lewd dreams again last night. I don't remember much, a few images... and sensations. My cheek pressed to the altar, hands on my back... something pressing against me, into me... and choking on my words, caught between begging to stop and begging for more.

I woke up drenched in sweat and still hard, and the thoughts wouldn't leave, so I caved to the same sins I've grown so familiar with. I wish I could say that calling it what it is, self abuse, did anything to extinguish the fire of lust inside me but if anything it stokes it higher. Knowing that what I'm doing to myself is sodomy, that it's abuse, that it's wrong just makes me harder. No amount of shaming I can hurl at myself helps, it just feeds into my own perversions. Even now, imagining God Himself being disappointed or disgusted with me, as He rightly should, makes me want to drop to my knees but not in prayer, but just to feel the sweet ache of it as I touch myself again.

It didn't even help. I'm half-hard again now. I was half-hard though Mass, even. I wore my cassock today, despite the heat I need all the layers I can get. Maybe the stifling heat will be a reminder that it is only a fraction of what awaits me if I can't get it together. Maybe I should buy a cage?

I wonder what tortures they have in Hell for slutty priests who break their vows?

[desecratedclergy]

The Priest's Personal Eucharis♱ (pt. 1: Holy Wine)

a note:

I've made text posts talking about it before so I don't think this theme is too unexpected, but this is my first time posting art of this particular blood kink. Although it was part of the reason I made this blog, I'm still shy about sharing art of it, as it seems to be one of the bigger taboos. Of course I understand why it's regarded as such. Just keep in mind it will continue to be a recurring theme here, so if you've been able to tolerate my rambling text posts but visuals are too much, I won't be offended at all if you'd rather unfollow. Protect your peace! ♡︎

[neetdogboy]

(Said like a game show host) Violate! That! Priest!

uncropped bc this site is scared of priest pussy

If you recognize my art style no you don’t <3

[fatherenoch]

It’s rare that claims of possession end up requiring an exorcism, but you’re quite the unlucky one, aren’t you? You’re not going anywhere - those chains are silver. I could kick you out of this poor thing’s body right now, but that wouldn’t be as fun. Normal touch won’t do much for you either…good thing I have all these holy things with me. How kind of you to possess such a lovely body. Too bad it burns at my touch now, hm.

You don’t deserve such kindness, demon, but I wish to be kind to the body of my parishioner that you inhabit, so I’ll prepare you a bit. Don’t talk back to me or I’ll shove my rosary down your throat. Just a bit of chrism oil on my fingers and I can stretch you open.

So pathetic to hear a supposedly powerful creature like you whimper at just some oil and a few touches. Let me pour some more on, use this whole vial up, just so I can hear it burn through your hisses. And stop struggling. Did you not sense something different about me? I would anticipate your kind to not be so naïve as to think every priest is pious.

That should be enough. Mm, I’ve been with this man whose body you’re in before, but this feels much better. Demonic presence usually makes the body run cold, but you bring the fire up with you. Don’t even think I’ll let you come from this. I’ll banish you, then summon you just to ruin you again. Then you’ll learn to only come when called.

I could keep you in this body, tied up with nothing to do but wait for when I return to use you. I bet you would like it. What did you make this man do, cheat on his partner, turn to other men, fall into sin? Or did you catch him in the act, enter him there? Did you do to him what I do to you now, fucking you as if it were the only thing you’re meant for?

If you make me come, maybe I’ll banish you. But you better start working for it.

[gravidwithlore]

Thinking about pregnancy in religion, but instead of being viewed as shameful, pregnancy is celebrated, revered, and considered holy in itself.

Priests who physically take on their parish's sins and wicked thoughts, their mass and confessions include them being bent over the altar and bred by the worshippers. Their prayers come out as moans of pleasure and rapture, the rhythm of their hymns staccato-ed by the rhythm of hips roughly slapping against each other. When the priest starts to grow round with child they are celebrated, the child considered holy and pure, a redemption of their sins, the village spiritually cleansed through the time the priest and holy vessel has spent gestating their baby. When a priest gives birth to multiples their parish is considered to be even more blessed with each additional child brought into the world. One knows a good and holy priest when they see one surrounded by a gaggle of children, possibly with a toddler on their hip or a babe feeding at their chest, and already unmistakably pregnant again already.

Or priests who protect the people from demons, but exorcisms don't involve dispelling away the demons presence entirely. They use themselves as bait for the demons instead, to distract them from innocent or wayward villagers.

One way they could do this is by utilizing their holy symbol, carved and hallowed for this very purpose, which allows them to draw the demons essence into themselves. But because of their training and holy power, this manifests as a pregnancy. The priest will be a holy vessel to purify and redeem the unholy force within, to eventually be born cleansed and new. The length of the pregnancy depends on how powerful the demon was, low power baser demons take a few months, but extremely powerful demons could possibly take years and years. The families who have experienced exorcisms this way often adopt the child born and raise it as a sign of their own devotion to their religion and gratefulness to their priest.

Or if you want to get down and dirty about it, the priests distract any demons found torturing their parishioners by spreading their own legs and compelling the demons to let out their frustrations and rage on them instead. Taking on the burden of being the demons plaything, being used to it's satisfaction during its time on the mortal plane, and often left waddling through their pews with the demons spawn. The people of the village recognize and deeply appreciate their priests sacrifice, and the community come together to support them in whichever way they may need. Even if what they need is obviously influenced by the unholy essence within (which is to say what they need is often to get fucked 25/8)

Paladins who worship and fight for deities of fertility and growth, birth and prosperity, life and bounty. When they have done great deeds on behalf of those they worship, they are often given the blessing of a belly steadily growing round with their demi-god offspring. Sometimes these paladins take it as a sign to retire and raise their new family somewhere safe, their active duty over though they continue their loyal and steadfast worship of their diety. Some continue to adventure, a bit more carefully then before with the little ones tagging along as they travel, the children always letting off a faint holy essence from the strong protective magic both parents weave about them. A paladin of these deities who have large families, are surrounded at all times by children of all ages, are respected as legendary paladins indeed.

A paladin of these deities who has been serving for years and has never been blessed in this way by their deity are often considered suspicious, and rumors swirl that they have forsaken their oath a long long time ago, if they even took it seriously to begin with.

Pregnancy out of wedlock, not a source of shame and impurity, but instead considered a blessing of a union. Some stricter sects won't even allow a betrothal unless a couple has already conceived and at least one of them is clearly growing round with child. It is so normalized and expected that when romantics think of a traditional wedding, they picture themselves waddling down the aisle, full of their beloved's child. Their lover watching them with unconcealed pride and affection, their vows reiterating their commitment to cherishing and growing their new family. The strictest sects sometimes won't even allow the wedding to commence until they're clearly in labor, only allowed to struggle and groan down the aisle once they're in active labor. Spreading their legs and screaming their child (or children) into the world on the altar, held and encouraged by their soon to be spouse. The cries of the couples firstborn ringing through the church halls holds greater weight than any spoken vow.

A temple of monks hidden deep in the mountains, their acolytes training culminates in embarking on a pilgrimage. These new monks are tasked to give their bodies to whoever may desire it, to bring people joy and pleasure no matter how briefly it lasts, to be subservient and pliant to those they serve on their journey. Some pilgrimages take longer than others, but they almost always return waddling, heavy with child and out of breath from the trek through the steep mountain path, but with beaming and satisfied smiles, confident in their beliefs and teachings in way they hadn't been when they left. Its not even uncommon for a monk returning from pilgrimage to come back holding a curious young child's hand, a toddler secured with soft cloth to their back or front, their belly already gravid and low, obviously on the verge of giving birth where they stand. These monks are considered to have found extra enlightenment on their journey and are heralded back as among the wisest of their number.

Crusaders who travel, not to conquer a land, but to connect cultures and create bonds between lands. Instead of meeting head on in a gritty battlefield, meetings are held in much more comfortable places filled with soft pillows and silks. Instead of the sharp sound of swords clanging against each other, or the metallic sound of armor and shields moving; cries of pleasure and the wet slapping of hips permeate the air. A crusader who comes home with a distinct gravid waddle are celebrated, but the most revered and successful crusaders are the ones that never return, but instead send letters home about their new home and gush about how they're almost due with multiples, but are already excited for their new spouse to knock them up all over again so they can continue to grow their new family.

The head of a religious order, considered to be the closest to their deity over anyone else, always being tasked to carry and bear their deity's offspring. When a new leader is chosen or elected, the final ritual of ushering in their new era is always a consummation of the renewed commitment to being they worship. The leader cannot make any serious changing or sweeping reforms until it has been confirmed by the council that their belly is beginning to round out with child, until then all their decisions need to be council approved. The proof of their divine leadership takes time to grow, divine beings are practically immortal, so it makes sense their offspring take a long time to grow. Symptoms such as morning sickness, cravings, and mood swings are closely analyzed to predict the future of their reign. Their libido however is analyzed as a litmus test to how close their relationship is to their deity. Only their deity may enter them in the same way they did so consummate their new relationship, but it is rare for their deity to make an appearance, so the leader must make do with their worshippers tongues and fingers. Those with especially high libido have been known to use statues and other instruments used in divine worship to fuck themselves senseless, panting from the exhertion of worship, eyes rolled back to the heavens, singing their garbled praises to the deity that blessed their body with it's heavy holy offspring.

[im-just-a-boy-guys]

PRIEST X DEMON SHAPESHIFTING OF DEATH (GAY / MASC CHARACTERS) AMAB MASC READER! PART 1!

HAPPY 1K EVERYONE! TYSM😊 3,300 words

(Sacrilege / Tongue / creature / drugs / violence / blood / gore/ sodomy ) Purple text is info or side notes

green is where the fun starts

and red is still more or less important back story or context but feel free to skip down to the fun!

(Most of the pictures are just what I find inspiration from. :3)

You stand at an altar, blood on your hands as you stare out into a chapel full of gloom and despair. Your people are suffering.

Various people are caring for the sick and wounded, while others are clinging to the corpses or clothing of their deceased loved ones.

Groans and wails of sobbing bounce off the walls, and the sound seeps into your head as you try to find a reasonable solution.

You turn and decide to consult your library. It was your last hope. Your cassock blew behind you as you walked through the vast hallways and corridors.

You could hear screaming outside and the ripping of flesh from bone through the high windows as you passed them, but tried to pay no mind.

You spent hours examining and scanning through books, each one seeming to get deeper and deeper into acult magic. You found a page that depicted a ritual, It was in a language you couldn't quite make out.

Thankfully there were very well-illustrated pictures. The title of the ritual looked like something close to either " Savior demon" or "savage demon" but you weren't quite sure and ready to take the risk. The pictures depicted a few black candles, a dear skull, a heart of some kind, and a hand holding a blade to its wrist/arm area. By the shape of the organ, you could guess that it was a lamb's heart.

You sent one of the hunters out to look for a lamb and to bring it back or if it could not be salvaged, it's heart.

You gathered the rest of the things, and within about 3 hours, your hunger had returned with a dead lamb over his shoulder. You took it gently, thanked the man, and hung the lamb upside down to drain its blood as you carved its heart out.

You gently placed the heart on a platter to the side and once there was a decent amount of blood in the bucket, you dipped your hand in.

It was a very unpleasant sensation, the blood was cold, and the thickness was enough to make you queasy.

You checked the book page and carefully painted the large symbol onto the brick of the back room you'd snuck off to and began laying out the items in accordance with where they should be.

You washed your hands and prepped your arm for the cut you'd have to make. Trying your best to replicate the length of the cut, you allowed the blood to drip down your arm onto the lamb's heart and then the symbol you'd drawn.

You read from the bottom portion of the page, trying to decipher what you could and pronounce it correctly, it took a few tries but after a while, you were finally able to recite the text exactly.

As you spoke you could feel the words start to pour out naturally as if the letters were pulling themselves from your very throat, the power sourced through your veins as you chanted and the flames candles you had set up blew out in a sweeping motion around the symbol you'd drawn.

You held a cloth you'd carried with you to your bleeding arm and did your best to tie it tightly. Though the cut wasn't deep, it was long and painful and had an extremely annoying sting.

You heard ghostly whispers erupt from the darkness around you. Black smoke spun across every inch of the bricks, collecting in a mass directly in front of you.

You felt paralyzed and clutched the cross around your neck, praying for the best. Your heart sounded in your chest as your breath caught in your throat.

As the figure materialized, a dark closed skeletal figure with large fangs stood, staring down at you with empty sockets. It must've towered over you by almost two feet.

It stared at you curiously before speaking, it sounded like another language that you couldn't gauge.

You spoke softly, "I apologize but I can't understand you-"

It reached forward and pressed its skeletal palm to your forehead. The sharp cold of the bone causes you to recoil slightly. You heard a booming voice, now in your language.

"Hello. Is this better?"

The voice seemed just as cold as the bones that had come into contact with your skin. It was low but about a medium pitch. There was a slight grain to the back of the voice as if to be a scratchy noise in the non-existent throat.

You tried to steal your resolve, barely avoiding stuttering, "Yes. I can understand you now."

"Why have you summoned me? What deal do you intend to make?" The entity leaned forward and down toward you as if to make the size difference clear; to remind you of your place.

"I need help."

"That's why most summon me. Please be more specific-",

You could almost feel an eyebrow raise in the voice it used as if this creature was challenging your intelligence.

"Yes, my people are dying. There are these creatures raining corruption upon my village. I fear that everyone in this church is still in danger. I'm not sure what you can offer. Therefore, I'm not entirely sure what to ask for.",

You looked at the being with pleading eyes.

You looked over the creature, and as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you noticed a thin layer of skin holding the bones together and a tiny shimmer of light in its eyes.

The being studied you. "Do you want safety for your people, defense from the creatures, or safety for yourself? The list goes on."

"I would like all of those things, I suppose, if that's possible. I assume that the defense from the creatures would be helpful, but the stipulations don't guarantee our safety. I would like safety for everyone who's alive and human in my village, me included and possible defense from the creatures."

The entity circled you slowly, floating with its arms behind its back.

" I believe it is within my capabilities. But, what do you have to give?"

"I do not have much. If you have anything to ask of me, I could answer you with a yes or a no."

You felt panicked. You'd assumed this was a deal, but you didn't think you had anything to give that was worthy of all that you'd asked.

"I know you do not intend to fool me. For, I am no fool. I know of your intentions, and they are not of malice, this can change things. I would like your power."

"My power?"

"Yes, dear priest. Your power. You have a say in what the people do. You are the leader and almost the king of this small village. I want your power."

"How-"

"Leave that to me. I will grant you your small wish. By the end of tonight, every living human will be here, safe. Those creatures outside, reaking havock will be dealt with. Tomorrow at sunrise, you will meet me in the graveyard, and we will discuss the terms of our deal properly. Until then, tend to your wounded."

"I'm not sure we have the supplies- but we'll definitely try."

You smiled at the entity,

"What do I call you?"

"Abatu is fitting."

(Ah-bah-tu with a slight 'silent behind T)

"I am Jareth."

Abatu nodded once and disappeared into a cloud of smoke.

As you came to your senses, the candles relit themselves, and you stood. You turned around and there, behind you. There was a pile of medical supplies, not an obnoxious amount, but it was helpful.

Over the passing night, the sounds of the creatures outside subsided and the nuns were able to help bandage and medicate the wounded. Your nurse also helped clean and wrap your arm tightly.

"Thank you, Maridith." You smiled at her gently and bowed your head lightly.

Her cheeks flushed red as you smiled at her, and she looked down at your arm to distract herself.

The night came and went, and you found yourself unable to sleep. You kept thinking about the creature you'd met. It wasn't as scary as you thought it would be.

Abatu was very intriguing, and you wondered about -his?- origins? Abatu sounded masculine, at least.

You found yourself unable to sleep and crept carefully into the sanctuary, deciding to go to the cemetery early.

You weaved between the tired and wounded who lie on pallets on the floor, making your way to the door.

You slipped out into the cold night and looked around, making sure no more creatures were wandering around.

Alas there were none to be seen so you made your way along the bloodied mud path, trying not to dwell on the death that surrounded you. There were no boddies like there were when you had left.

This made you nervous, but your feet carried you absentmindedly to the cemetery as you melted into your own mind.

Once you made it to the dark gated and slipped in, you found a concrete bench and sat to drown in your thoughts, expectations to have to wait a while until sunrise.

A dark figure materialized in front of you as a thick fog rolled across the hallowed ground.

"You are early, Jereth."

You nodded softly. "I couldn't sleep."

"We shall discuss early then. I'm going to need permission to change my features and mannerisms to be exactly like yours. This will help me accomplish something I have planned in the future. However, I will not do anything that will sully or ruin your name."

You thought about this for a moment, with abatu laying out the rules for himself against ruining your reputation; it would make sense to allow this. Especially with what he'd done for you.

"Alright. Anything else?"

"Yes. I'll also need permission to study your anatomy and mannerisms. This will help avoid any slightly off-putting differences that cause people to believe I am not you and cause any uproar."

"Study my anatomy? Meaning-?"

"I'll need to see all of your body to be able to correctly replicate it. Studying your mannerisms, I believe, speaks for itself."

"How would you go about studying my mannerisms? You'd have to follow me around, and people could see you."

"Only you can see me if I wish, dear priest."

You took a breath and pondered. Your cheeks flushed red as you realized he would have to see you naked, but you figured with his tone and the way he failed it out with little to no malicious sounding intent that it wouldn't matter much, but you hadn't been undressed infront of anyone for a long time.

"I suppose I agree to this. Anything else?"

"No, that will be all for now. If I need anything else I shall inform you. I will be taking my leave until tomorrow. Do try to get some rest, Jareth"

You nodded, and Abatu vanished into the darkness. The sun started rising, and a soft blue appeared over the horizon.

You walked absentmindedly to the church, entering the sanctuary and entering your sleeping quarters. you flopped on the bed and undressed down to your undershirt, folding your clothes on the chair.

You climbed into the bed and snuggled under your heavy covers, the day running through your head.

___

You had fallen asleep without really noticing and woke to a slightly uneasy feeling. You pealed your eyes open and looked around the room, finding Abatu at the foot of your bed.

"Good morning, dear priest."

You sat up straight and fumbled for the covers to cover you below the waist. "Hello- I didn't realize you would be here when I awoke. Could you let me get dressed?" "Today is the day I study your body, Jareth. So there is no need to cover yourself for now." Your cheeks burned red hot, and you hesitantly slipped out of bed. Your soft cock hung beneath your undershirt, and the creature studied you curiously. He walked over to you and gently held the fabric of your undershirt. "This too, if you please." You nodded. You slightly regretted agreeing to this, but you couldn't help but fantasize about Abatu now that he was standing so close to you. You felt a pain tugging at your chest. You would be sure to pray after this interaction, for you could feel the lust building. You slipped out of the thin shirt and tossed it to the side. Abatu walked around you slowly. He seemed to be carefully taking in every single ounce of your appearance. You felt his downy fingers slipping across your skin as he traced your muscular outlines and along your spine and shoulder blades. This sent shivers through your body that drew a sharp-toothed smile from the entity. "Your skin is very sensitive, Jareth." "Your hands are cold-" you muttered shakily."Hold your arms out." You did as you were told, your face still burning. His touch was such an odd and new sensation that you could feel the blood running to your once soft cock, now growing in length. You felt increasingly embarrassed, doing your best to avoid covering your face. The creature traced along your lower back with both hands on both sides, then up your sides to your arms, feeling along the muscles in your arms. He felt your hands, lingering along and between your fingers. You couldn't help but grow harder, your length fully erect, your dip aching softly as Abatu gently made his way back around to your front, sliding his cold hands back to your chest and down your midriff. His eyes lingered on your election. "Hm. That has changed since I last looked." You nodded and didn't allow him any explanation. "Why?" "It's just a bodily reaction-" you stammered. "What is it a reaction to?" He seemed genuinely curious. However, you couldn't help but feel that he was teasing you. As you tried to distract your mind you felt your cock twitch, the red on your face stretching to your ears. Abatu took your length into his hand, and it took everything in you not to groan in desperation. Although, you couldn't silence the soft gasp that left your lips. "This part of you is even more sensitive than the rest. Is there a reason?" "It's how humans procreate and reproduce.im not sure if that answers your question." "Possibly, it feels strange." The entity traced his fingers along the veins that ran up and down your length, then up to your tip, and rubbed it softly. You almost collapsed, gasping again and letting out a soft moan. Your tip leaked precum that gently coated Abatu's bony fingers. The mixture of his skin's cold and his touch's softness drove you crazy. "There's something wet coming out. What is it?" "It's- nh~ meant to be- lubrication."

As he touched you, you couldn't help but pause in between every few words, your brain softly churning itself into mush. "Hm. Interesting."

His body gently began to change, first his skin color to match yours. Then, he carefully worked on matching the features of your face. His body worked itself from head to toe to transform itself into you. You looked him over and were astounded. You reached forward to touch him, very gently. You needed to make sure it was real. The creature looked confused but didn't stop you as your hands connected with his skin, and strangled enough, it was still cold. You supposed it wouldn't be easy to change his body heat to match yours but regardless of this, you were in awe. He was still covered in his black closet, which he took off and sat to the side to analyze himself compared to you. You noticed that his or rather, how he saw your cock was hard on him as well. You quietly corrected. "Usually, it looks as you saw before, but this happens when it is touched-" you remembered that it had hardened by itself due to your sinful thoughts and repeated. "Usually." He thought hard and focused, transforming that part of himself to match you when soft. He turned around in a small circle in front of your full body-length mirror in your room. "I think I have managed to match you perfectly." You nodded in agreement. It was so strange to see yourself standing in front of you.

"Alright, Now that I have your form, I'm going to go to my realm and practice the fast-changing process You are free to do as you wish. Once I master your form, I will return to learn of your mannerisms. thank you, and I shall see you another time." With that, Abatu vanished into a cloud of smoke as usual and you let out a sigh of relief, collapsing onto your bed, your cock still throbbing desperately. You were unable to refuse the urge to wrap your hand around your length, spreading the precum along yourself. Groaning lewdly and running a hand through your hair.

you Imagined the creature's hand wrapped around your cock once more, stroking you with purpose as he teased you.

'Why are you so sensitive, My Priest?'

'you're so warm..'

anything you could use to fuel the raging lust erupting from you. you couldn't understand why you felt so attracted to Abatu, his dark mysteriousness, something about him. He was forbidden to you, this was sodomy. you wanted him inside of you, though you hadn't figured out how that would work.

from there your mind worked itself into imagining his shapeshifting abilities. shapeshifting into other horrible demonic creatures, just allowing himself as is to grow something close to a cock with enough length to absolutely destroy you from the inside out.

Abatu watched you from the end of your bed, invisible to your eyes,. He watched you quietly, trying to figure out what exactly you were doing, you had begun to moan, then eventually moaned out his name. You grasped desperately at your neck, squeezing it tightly.

"Abatu!- fuck- Please destroy me- I am yours to use and control!-", everything you called out incoherent to yourself, spewing out of you uncontrollably.

"God forgive me! i Cannot stop! forgive me-", You muttered softly as you felt the orgasm building.

Abatu cocked his head to the side and carefully crept closer to you as he watched your body jerk slightly, now increasingly more curious as to what was about to occur.

"God! I beg- Forgive me! I cannot contain my lust any longer-", your tip ached as your cock throbbed and spewed your warm cum over your chest and stomach, your brain drowning in euphoria for what felt like many minutes at least. your breath caught in your throat as you laid on your bed, trying to grasp for some sense of reality.

The entity's eyes widened slightly as he saw your cum erupt from you, finding himself deeply intrigued. By the dazed smile on your face, it seemed to be something you enjoyed, and you were calling out his name as if to summon him. This must have been something you wanted from him and were too careful to ask for. Abatu had decided that he would try to indulge this for you the next time he was able. He disappeared fully now, back to his realm.

You stood and faltered slightly, almost unable to keep yourself upright. Wobbling into the bathroom area, you gently braced yourself on many objects to hold yourself up. You cleaned yourself off and got dressed, laying your cross over your neck. Making your way into the Sanctuary, you greeted many people, hearing that they were getting better by the day. you shook many hands and gave many blessings before heading over to your bench behind the podium and whispering an apologetic prayer. 'Forgive me father, for I have sinned. Sodomy has overtaken my mind, my thoughts, and even my dreams. Please allow me to redeam myself and send me the strength to repair my faultering loyalty. I have pledged myself unto you and will continue to do your work. In your name, thank you god, and Amen.'

[dead-air-radio]

Sigh thinking about cults. And my religious truama tw.

Just imagining being super depressed and very emotional and having someone come into my life that is so normal and unassuming at first. Slowly they become a part of my everyday life and their little gestures make me trust them more and more and they are so caring that I become so codependent on them so when they start asking for weirder and weirder things I don't think anything of it. They start managing my diet but I assume they're just trying to help me and they know I want to lose weight even if they feed me weird things.

Or they start having me wear a certain thing almost as a claim. Before it turns into me being so dependent on them I'd do anything and so when I get so sad and sleepy but have the urge to cut I don't see it as a problem when they offer to do it for me. Slicing at my legs before kissing them. At this point they're so friendly and guiding they love to brush my hair and give me things and do things I'd usually do by myself like bathe me. Until I'm just some little lamb for them.

I'm so trusting of them when they say they have smth for me I think nothing about why I need to dress in the white gown they got me and all the jewelry they got me in the past as well as eat a piece of bread thay hes me woozey. And how they want me to wear bows in my hair and be bathed in a certain soap they like until we get into their car and they blindfold me for the surprise it's already Evening when we leave and once we get their they carry me to the surprise.

At first I assume we are just having a little romantic fire in the woods. I can hear the crunch under their feet from the leaves and the birds and other wild life. And the crackle of fire and the heat as we walk past it and I'm placed on smth like stone. When my blindfold is taking off I'm on an altar of sorts and there's a fire ahead of me as well as a bunch of people in masks. Of course I'm frightened holding onto the person I came with arm before they shush me. There's candles and statues around me as well as flowers and by the atlar is a bowl for offerings. The person sits beside me unphased as I cling to them, scared of what's happening. And they address the people. Not realizing he's a leader of the cult and all the jewelry and clothes they've been giving me are actually not only from them but his people as well. All their followers have known a out me for a long time giving them offerings to give the cult leaders little pet, his lamb. When he's done speaking to them he turns to me telling me to lay on the altar stone as he gets on top of me as the watchers look on. He cuts open my wrists while I whimper and shake and push against him confused. He cuts his wrists as well mixing his bleed with mine before licking at his wrists and he puts his wrist by my mouth for me to lick up as well.

Some of the followers that are dressed differently go on to give a spot of sermon as if I'm not whimpering behind them as the leader continues to assualt me and push up the white gown. The sermon is about needing to view the leader take what's his and have smth resemble the lamb and religious symbol of their cult and how I'm the image they should look up to cause the leader has chose me as his lamb to mark infront of them to make me his forever. Him cutting me open by carving his name into my stomach as he fucks me on the altar while his people watch

[doing-something-unholy]

Im kinda into the idea of pretending to be a super strict tradcath priest and have a pretty sinner pin me down and fuck the bad attitude out of me.

I start out angry and defiant, how dare they try to touch me like that, how wicked and sinful do you have to be to lust after priests? My chastising doesn't seem to phase them, they aren't stopping their advance until I'm backed up against the altar.

They got the drop on me and cuffed me and I'm trapped with no way to stop them from putting their hands up my cassock, and I can't stop them from finding the place between my legs where my body is reacting to their touch against my will. I'm demanding they stop this at once, for the sake of their soul to repent, but now there’s a tremble in my voice and they grin at me like a shark that smells blood in the water.

Maybe they call me the sinful one, I was just so tempting they had to touch me, I'm the pretty priest that inspired lust in them. And look how I'm reacting to it, hard already and failing to keep still and bucking into their touch.

It'll end with me bent over the altar, pressed into it with a hand on my back. My pants are long gone and my cassock hiked up so they can fuck me mercilessly, each sinfully good thrust making tears fall from my eyes as I beg God to forgive me for how good it feels to be sodomized.

Maybe afterwards they should deliver the Lord's punishment themselves, and flog me, still tied to the altar with cum dripping down my thighs, while I admit that I'm a whore and beg for mercy.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

🌶️

A priest gojo

I don't care anymore if I'll burn in hell for this request but I am craving for IT

I can't get it off my miind

Those "Forgive me Lord", "fuck, your pussy is so good for me" has been haunting my ass for ages. I'll give you my house, my cat ⁿᵒᵗ ʳˡˡʸ, my keychains??? and a kiss on your forehead

I sat on this ask for a few days trying to figure out how to go about it. Mostly because well, I've had a priest Geto in the works for about a month now LMAO.

I figured this was my sign to make it an series!! We're going to do a one shot of each of the men as fucked up priests. AH IM EXCITED!!

Now Presenting, Part One in Sins of the Church...

Starring Corrupted! Priest Satoru Gojo

Satoru saw hellfire in your eyes. He saw damnation and eternal torment. He saw his destruction. And he wanted all of it. He could feel his soul burning out of his chest every time you batted your pretty eyelashes at him, feel his morals weaken whenever you smile, and feel himself lose control every time you stood next to him.

And then he had to remind himself that all of those thoughts were borderline blasphemy. He was a member of the clergy for christ sakes, he shouldn't be thinking of a member of his flock like this. He shouldn’t be fantasizing about you bouncing on his cock while he fucks his own fist. No amount of repenting could remove that sin from his soul. But no amount of denial could remove his desperation for you either. He had never been a phenomenal priest, he was a drinker, took the lord's name in vain, and was far from celibate. But he was trying to do better. He was trying to remove those vices from his life. But you brought out the sinner in him. And if he was going to be a sinner, he might as well win with you. 

This is what ran through Satoru’s head as he sat in the confessional booth, bored out of his mind. He knew it was important for him to be available for this service from 6 to 9 everyday, but it didn’t mean he liked it. He checked his phone. It was 7:30. Fuck. He was about to text one of the other clergy members to see if one of them would take over for him (probably not) when he heard the church doors open. He suppressed a groan of annoyance as he waited to get this confession over with.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned. My last confession was…I don’t think I’ve ever confessed, actually.” The sweet voice rang in his ears. Ho-ly SHIT Satoru knew that voice! It was the voice he had imagined moaning and desperate under him. “Y/n.” He thought to himself.

“Worry not my child,” He said, desperate to hear what you were sinning about. You were the star of his parish, what did you have to confess? Did you say Heck? “You’re at confession now. Confess, and we can go from there.”

“I’m afraid I’ve been having..impure thoughts Father. Thoughts about someone I should not be thinking of in this way.” Jealousy shot through Satoru like a bullet, ripping through his very being. Someone else had caught your eye then. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected anything else. Still, The knowledge that you wanted someone other than him left him seething with rage. He had to know who took his angel from him.

“Who are you having these thoughts about my child?” Satoru asked, knowing you’d answer. You were a good girl, you never said no. But, you did go quiet. Satoru didn’t like that. He was about to prompt you again when you broke the silence. 

“I’ve been having thoughts about Father Gojo. In my dreams he comes to me and I see him in, well…pornographic ways. I know I shouldn’t have these dreams, or think these thoughts, but I can’t make them stop.” Motherfucker, maybe there was a God. Satoru found himself pressed into your shared wall of the confessional, hanging onto every word you said. Your small, desperate tone went straight to his dick, and he felt it twitch with every word you said.

“What happens in these dreams?” He asked. He had to know. He wanted all of the details. He wanted to know if you were as desperate for him as he was for you. How graphic was your imagination? 

“I find myself with him alone in the church. He puts his hands on my waist and lays me on one of the pews. I feel him kiss my jaw, my neck, my breasts..sometimes he puts his fingers in me, other times he just, well…has his way with me. And in the dreams it feels so euphoric, like a blessing from the holy father himself, I-” NO no, keep going! He didn’t stop you! “He always finishes inside of me. The dreams are so vivid that when I awake, I can still feel his seed seeping out of me.” 

Satoru’s cock was impossibly hard and he was struggling to keep his breath even. The passion of damnation burned through his veins. He wanted nothing more than to make your dreams come true. “Have you ever been with a man in this way?” He asked, bracing himself for the answer.

“No father,” You said, shaking your head even if he couldn’t see it. Good girl, he knew you were saving yourself for him. “It’s why these dreams are so odd to me,” you continued, “I’ve never experienced these things when I’m awake, but when I’m asleep it feels so real and vivid I sometimes wake up thinking it might have been real.” 

God Satoru wished it was real. If he closed his eyes he could feel your pussy quivering around his raw cock, hear you begging for him, feel your nails in his back. Shit. He palmed himself through his black slacks, trying to relive some of the pressure you had put him under. He tried to remind himself that he was a fucking priest Goddamn it! But he was a man first. And he needed some release. “I see. Well my dear, your sins are great. And as you know, the penance you must pay has to be greater.” He said, trying to sound as composed as he possibly could considering how desperate he was. 

“I’m willing to do anything father.” You said, all too eager. “Fuck don’t say that.” Gojo thought. It was the last thought of doubt that ran through his mind. He wanted to see just how far you were willing to go. 

“Come here my dear, meet me at the pews.” He said, giving in to the devil on his shoulder. You were a little shocked. As far as you knew, the priest wasn’t supposed to see you at all during confession, it was anonymous. You must have done something truly terrible that the priest had to see you to absolve your sins. Shame filled you as you exited your booth, followed by the most intense embarrassment you had ever felt in your life when you saw Father Gojo sitting in a pew.

“Father!” You gasped, as you rushed over to him. You didn’t even notice how flustered he looked, nor the darkness in his eyes as he stared at your chest. “I-I’m so-”

“On your knees child.” Gojo said, cutting you off before you could start rambling. You paused for a moment, before obeying. He was a priest after all, he had to know what he was doing. Maybe this was all a part of your penance. Gojo placed a gentle hand on the side of your face, and you instantly melted into it, bringing a smile to the clergy member's face. You really did have an angelic face.

“You’ve committed the sin of pleasure my dear.” Gojo cooed, “And to absolve yourself of that sin, you have to give pleasure.” Oh, so this was a part of your penance! 

It was also complete bullshit, Satoru knew that. But fuck, your lips were so pretty. He wasn’t trying to think of any smooth plausible reason for this to happen, he just wanted to make it happen. “Undo my belt.” He instructed, and you did so with only a slight moment of hesitation. “Atta girl, keep goin’.” He instructed, watching as you unbuttoned his slacks and pulled down his zipper. You paused, looking at the way his cock strained against his boxers. You had barely even kissed a boy, and yet you were about to be face to face with a cock that belonged to your priest. 

“Don’t get shy on me now Angel,” Gojo said, gently tangling his fingers into your hair. “You weren’t shy in the booth. This is what you want, isn’t it?” That was a wonderful question actually. This part never happened in your dreams. And honestly, the thought of putting someone's privates in your mouth was disgusting. But, some dark, gruesome part of you did want this. You wondered what he would look like, what he would taste like. You bit your lip and freed the fathers dick from his underwear, earning yourself an audible moan from him. 

“Atta girl…” Satoru groaned, moving your head to take him in. He grinned as you opened your mouth, and damn near came when you finally put your mouth on him. He wasn’t going to be able to enjoy this for long. He wanted something more than some childish head. Though, it was cute to watch you choke on his cock as you tried to take him all it. In any case, spit made for decent lube. 

He moaned softly, his head falling to the back of the pew as he guided you up and down on his cock. He looked back down at you and fuck. The sight of you looking up at him, tears filling your doe eyes, squishing your legs together to try and quell any arousal as you struggled to take in his cock was far too much for him. You were his ticket to damnation, he knew it. He was going to burn in hell for you.

“You’re so good,” He said as he pulled you off of his cock. He got you off your knees and sat you on his lap. “So good for me.” His words filled your head and turned into arousal. You felt electrified with shame and desire. “Lord forgive me,” You thought as he slipped your panties from under your skirt.“Please, I just can’t stop myself.” 

“Have you ever been touched here?” Satoru asked as he ran a finger up your slit, sending shivers up your spine as you tensed around him. You shook your head no. “Have you ever touched yourself  here?” He asked as you represented the question. The answer was yes, but to little results. When you were a teenager, you were curious, sure. But you never got the Euphoric feeling you had read about, so you stopped. As an adult you hadn’t touched yourself in years. 

“Not often.” You said, giving the father the condensed version. Satoru nodded, taking in all the information you had given him. 

“Do you want me to make you feel good Y/n?” He asked into your neck, his nimble fingers finding your clit and massaging circles into it. You yelped with shock. Your entire lower region had electricity pulsing through it, and you swore you felt your pussy clench. You nodded desperately. Satoru stopped moving.

“Not good enough Angel, I need you to use your words.” He said. He knew he was already putting you in a fucked up situation for his own pleasure, he wasn’t about to make it worse by not being 100% sure you also wanted this. 

“Yes, Father, please, I want you to touch me so bad it hurts!” You whined out for him, needing this more than anything. Satoru hummed his approval as he went back to rubbing your clit with his thumb. His fingers now had a new goal in mind. He probed at your weeping pussy. 

“You’re so wet for me angel..” Satoru hummed into your ear, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a slut.” He whispered to you as he slipped a finger into your aching cunt. Slut. That word sent a flurry of emotions through your chest but the main one being desire. You wanted to be his slut. You wanted him to fill you up, to use and abuse you. You wanted to be Father Gojos fucktoy.

Those were thoughts you’d unpack later. Right now, The father had slipped another finger into you, and you were focused on trying to accommodate the stretch. It felt so good but you wanted so much more.

“Father please, I need more.” You whimpered out, shooting lightning through Gojos head. “I need you, Father, please. F-fuck me.” you were so unsure about saying fuck but you were absolutely possitive you needed a cock in you right at that moment. 

Satoru couldn't believe what he was hearing. A part of him thought he might have died and gone to heaven. But, he knew that probably wasn’t the case. Heaven was sinless and pure. There was nothing pure about you in this moment. You were the embodiment of sin and he wanted nothing more than to drown in you. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely, who am I to say no to my Angel?” He purred as he ripped off your blouse and skirt, leaving you bare and exposed to him. He had to take a moment of pause. You were divine in every sense of the word and he needed to take a moment to drink it all in. He found his new religion and it was you. “Lord forgive me, but lust calls to me,” he thought. 

He lined you up and slowly began to lower you onto his cock. You yelped softly, digging your nails into his shoulders as he stretched you out in ways you had never been before. It burned like hellfire but you were too lost in the pleasure to think about the pain. Somehow though all the discomfort you still felt a euphoria like no other.

Satoru couldn’t take his eyes off from where the two of you were now connected. He watched his cock disappear into your tight, weeping cunt, a droplet of pink blood flowing down as a sign that you were now tied to him forever. It was nothing close to what he could have fantasized of, it was so much better. He knew you’d feel good, but he couldn’t imagine how good. 

“Your pussy is so good for me.” He moaned as he bottomed out, pulling you into a passionate and intense kiss. Your head was filled with cotton, you felt yourself lose touch with everything that wasn't Gojo. Gojo, Gojo, Gojo, Your body craved him in ways you didn’t know possible. This was as close to God as you had ever been in all your years as a devout catholic. Your lower waist exploded as he bucked into you, a string of whimpers and moans leaving your mouth as you clung to him. Every stroke of his thick cock pet your g-spot, making you see stars and hear angels singing. “How could something so sinful feel so right?” Was your last coherent thought as Gojo fucked you into oblivion. 

Gojo was absolutely intoxicated by your warmth. He tried drugs before, but none of them could compare to the way your pussy pulled him in. The way your body molded itself to his, the way your breathing fell in perfect timing with his. He didn’t give a shit anymore if he was going to be damned for eternity, He found heaven already, and it was you. 

You felt a sting start to tightly coil inside of your stomach and your legs stiffen. The sparks in your lower abdomen were becoming full on fireworks. “G-Gojo, I think I’m c-clo-!” You didn’t get to finish that sentence before the string snapped inside of you. Your brain released all of its dopamine and ecstasy reserves into your bloodstream, and your vision went white with pleasure. You felt yourself scream out for God, or Gojo. You weren’t sure exactly which one, but you knew that in that moment there really was no difference to you. 

Satoru wasn’t far behind you at all. The moment your cunt began to constrict around him he knew he was finished. A few more thrusts and he was cumming deep inside you, biting your neck to try and keep his volume down. He for sure left a bruise. You both sat there, him clinging onto you like a drowning man clings to a life preserver, you hanging limply off of him like a used doll, both of you trying to catch your breath. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck FUCK. All at once it hit Satoru what he had just done. Shit. he could feel his soul burning in hell already, everything about this felt dirty. He never should have touched you, he-

And then you sighed softly, and slightly readjusted yourself to be more comfortable in his arms. You were so small compared to him, so delicate. It made his heart swell. Nothing involving you could have been dirty, he decided. It was just the catholic guilt talking. He finally lifted you up and pulled out, chuckling softly at the little whine you let out.

“Come on angel,” He purred, “Let’s get you dressed and get you home.”

[darkfantasysworld]

This idea popped into my head randomly. Shorter post.

Female reader x demon, pastor (no lines), & pastor's son

TW/CW; Bl00d, religion, and child/infant sacrifice

You snapped out of a daze and looked down at your pussy, it hurt for some reason, that's when you discovered your cross inside with blood on it. You immediately pulled it out and got out of bed, your sheets and blankets had the red substance on them as well. You felt it trickle down your thigh as you cried, you walked into the bathroom and started the water for a bath, using a washcloth to try and clean some of the blood from your body. You got in the tub and cried harder, the reality of the situation crashing over you like a tidal wave. You were assaulted and with one of your crosses nonetheless, that was the only logical conclusion you could think of. You lived in a small town and were friends with basically everyone so you didn't know who would want to do this. You cleaned up and sat in the bathtub for a few hours, thinking before finally getting out and patting yourself dry. You wrapped a towel around yourself and walked back into your bedroom. You pulled the bloodstained bedding off and carried it to the laundry room then placed it all in the washer and turned it on. You went back to your bedroom, this time with a bowl of warm, soapy water and a brush, both of which you set on the nightstand before getting a bottle of peroxide from your first-aid kit. You walked over and poured some peroxide on the bloodstained mattress, watching it bubble up. You grabbed the brush and wet it before scrubbing the bloodstain and dabbing it with a black towel.

You cleaned everything up, your bed still had a slight stain but you did what you could. You put a baggy hoodie and sweatpants on before leaving the house to get groceries and try to see if anyone was acting different to you. While shopping you saw the town pastor with his son, you had always had a small crush on him and would say hi whenever you saw him but you couldn't shake the feeling that him or his father might have done this to you. You were somewhat out of it as you shopped, your mind kept going back to the bloodied bedding and cross. You walked down each aisle, making sure you got everything you needed and once you were done you went home.

You were putting groceries away when someone knocked on your front door so you opened it. "Hey, how are you? You didn't say 'hi' in the store earlier so I figured I'd check on you." The pastor's son, Noah, spoke, his light brown hair almost looked like honey in the current lighting, his hazel eyes looked into yours with a hint of concern in them. "I'm ok.. I just.." you paused, looking at him before looking at the ground. "I don't think I can talk about it.." you sniffled slightly, your mind flashing back to earlier. "Hey.. I'm here for you.." Noah responded, placing his hand on your cheek. You don't know what happened but you just lost control and fell into his arms, sobbing.

You don't know how or when but when you stopped crying you realized you were on the couch, sitting on Noah's lap while he held you, his fingers tracing small patterns under your shirt and on your skin. You stayed there, enjoying the gentle touch and quiet whispers of "it's ok.." , "I've got you.." , "let it all out.." , and "I'm here.." from Noah. You closed your eyes and relaxed, letting your breathing return to normal as you sniffled. You finally decided to tell him, he's the pastor's son so you trusted him with this information. "A cross..? Inside of you..? Sounds like a possession case my dad worked.." Noah pulled out his phone and you sat there, confused until you heard a ding from his phone. "The demon's name is Voxix, he's a servant of Asmodeus. Voxix likes to… impregnate… virgins by possessing them and… masturbating as he's inside of them…" Noah paused and looked at you. "What?" You asked, confused as to why he paused. "He's almost impossible to exorcize." Noah responded, making you hide your smile. You didn't really believe in that stuff, you found it silly. "I don't think it's a demon's baby, but thanks Noah."

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, your stomach grew and you weren't acting like yourself. Your skin became almost gray, your eyes turned almost white with little bits of color still showing, your hair was messy and knotted. You became sick, throwing up quite often, you assumed it was morning sickness, that it would eventually go away but it didn't. You got to know Noah more, he was really sweet throughout the whole pregnancy, almost a little too sweet but you didn't mind. You snapped out of another daze, this time you were restrained with Noah and his father, John by your bed. John was in his robes, throwing holy water on you, it felt like it burned and they began speaking in Latin but you blacked out before you could even slightly understand what their motives were. You opened your eyes but this time you saw a large man in pure darkness, he had black horns that made a vague heart shape, the horns had pink stripes, creating a unique pattern, he had a long black tail with a heart on the tip that looked sharp. The man had dark grey skin, pink eyes, and short black hair with an undercut, he also seemed to have tattoos but they were pink and seemed to have a slight glow. "Ah.. mortal.." The male spoke, walking towards you. You couldn't move, yell, or speak for some reason. "Shh.. you'll be ok.." He said, running his hand through your hair as you felt some sort of pain, you thought maybe it was labor pain but surely you'd be awake for that. "Mm.. it's time.." The male said in an almost seductive tone as he disappeared right before your eyes.

You woke up screaming as your body pushed the baby out, you looked around confused and watched as John threw the baby into a fire, all you got to see was your baby's red skin and some sort of black features. You cried out for your baby when suddenly the male from the darkness walked out of the fire. "Ah.. much better.." The male spoke before looking at John and Noah, you suddenly realized you were in the woods with no one else around. "Thank you, John, for bringing me to this realm." The male said, giving a slight bow to the brown haired pastor. Noah stepped towards you and leaned down, giving your clit a gentle kiss. "You did so well.." Noah whispered in your ear before kissing your neck.

[orangeboulevard]

I Expressly Forbid It (OneShot)

Kinktober day 14!! Seven minutes to spare, would ya look at that!! Woohoo!! Heavy religious elements in this one guys.

Dynamics: priest x demon, slight sub/dom

Content: bruising/ bite marks -> virgin -> ice play

Word Count: 951

He knelt before the altar, a private moment. Doubt had been swarming his mind recently, his faith teetering on a precarious edge, he was feeling... Lost, as cliche as that was. When in need of guidance, who does the priest go to for advice? 

"Have you been losing sleep, Father?" A polished nail traced his jaw, his eyes snapped open at the sudden touch and the sultry tone. 

It was her, or it, he should say. The countenance of the woman was one that could only be seen in ancient paintings of beauties with bare figures, the ones that a person couldn't help but avert their eyes from. Avert his eyes, he did, but not before catching a glimpse of her dark hair that fell upon her exposed pale shoulders; likewise, her delicate collar bones, like ivory carvings, were on display. A tantalising image. This was God's design, how else could one be tempted towards sin if its creatures were ghastly to look upon?  

"I slept well enough," he whispered as he rested his clasped hands on his lap, "What is it that you want?"

"For you to look at me, Father, would be nice," she chuckled, but she knew he wouldn't; he knew the rules of associating with Mephistophelian animals such as her.

"Child, are you in need of advice, of confessional? Do you wish to repent?" He asks this question every time; he couldn't actually believe her answer would change, did he? 

"I do confess to being naughty," she chuckled; she knelt beside him, "I will not change my ways, Father. Am I a bad girl? How many hail Marys should I say for Daddy?" She laughed loudly at his scoff and flushed cheeks. 

"Tell me, lamb, why do you keep returning?" His eyes flicked quickly from her knees, which he could see in his peripheral vision, and back to the altar. 

"Well, you calling me lamb makes me feel all tingly inside," she joked, "But can I not just visit a friend, are we not friends? I enjoy your company." 

"We are not friends." 

"You're right. We're not. I don't do what I'm about to do to you to friends." 

His body went rigid at the sensation of her hands rubbing against his chest, he closed his eyes, muttering a prayer under his breath, as he felt her use her teeth to pluck off his clerical collar. Her nimble fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt. He wasn't stopping her, utter sacrilege. 

He tried to remember his teachings: 'My Father’s house has many rooms-'

"Your hands are anointed, are they not?" She said quietly, pulling him from his prayers, "Are they not holy? Can they cleanse me? I want to be holy for you, Father. Make me a good little lamb." 

His breath came out as a shuddering sigh; this had been a long time coming; she had been leading him from the path of the light for a while now- he had let her, let her consume his thoughts. He was going to go to Hell for this. He was definitely going to Hell for allowing her to take his hand and cup her breast with it, his fingers playing with the soft flesh. She sighed contently. He could just hear the smug smirk. 

He was going to break his oaths tonight, disrespecting his fundamental morals and code of honour, his celibacy vow. How could he say no now? He was too far gone. Under her palm, his erection rose. She shifted, and he placed his hands back onto his lap. He didn't know what to do, but she knew that she was going to help him, corrupt him, steal that deliciously tangible virginity, and mould him into her personal play toy. 

'If that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?'

Her hands parted his black shirt, undressing him gently. Her fingers played with the pink nubs of his nipples, her touch growing frigid and painful for a second. He gasped and flinched back. 

She grasped his bicep, "Stop, don't move, Father." 

He eased back forward, her touch provided a strange feeling: one moment warm and tender and the next bitingly cold and pinching. His nipples were red and swollen, sore; the kitten licks she offered to them after elicited a soft sigh of relief from his parted lips. 

He groaned when she bit down on the sensitive flesh. However, his voice raised to a yelp when her teeth, or more precisely, her fangs, broke the skin. She began to palm him again through his trousers, as she kept nipping and leaving bleeding red bite marks. It was a confusing combination of sensual gratification and discomfort, his brain was starting to confuse the two feelings.

'And if I go and prepare a place for you-'

"Is the door locked, Father?" She asked, pulling away from his chest. At his blank expression, she chuckled, "Let's just hope no one comes in. Don't be too loud." 

She stood up and walked around the other side of the altar; from where he was knelt, he had to bare his entire neck to look up at her. A pose of reverence, baring the arteries and shortening the field of view, to be devout is to be vulnerable. By her name, he was devout, unable to look away as she stripped her dark clothes from her tormentful form. She bent over the altar, waiting for him.

'-I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.'

[living-viscera]

bless me father for i have sinned. forgive me for every lust filled touch against myself or another. for every dirty thought i think when i see a sliver of skin. for the taste of blood i crave, for the sounds of pain. forgive me father for the pleasure i get from listening to them suffer. for every unholy night for my own pleasure and the scratches left on my back.