#ASK ✞ leave all at the confessional ; clear yourself of sin! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

4everhyucks · 1 year

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— 6:08PM

cw. dubcon, sacrilegious themes, manipulation, loss of virginity, creampie.

it is just another sunday morning of you going to church, secretly glancing the cute boy standing at the front row while the priest reads from the gospel. it’s been a couple months since you found out that you developed a tiny crush on him despite not knowing a single thing about him, only overhearing some of his conversations with his friends on accident. that was how you got to know his name as well. you decided today will be the day to confess your love to him. you don’t really expect anything out of it when you do, just wanting to be honest with your own feelings.

when the church starts to clear out, you hurry over to him before he could leave, softly tapping on his shoulder, “mark.”

he turns around to meet your eyes, you’ve never once stood so close to him, suddenly noticing all his beautiful facial features.

“hey,” mark is giving off an awkward energy, barely noticeable, considering you both have certainly not interacted before. he adds, “do we know each other..?”

“no,” you’re quick to respond, “no we don’t, but i have something to uh tell you.”

“i’m all ears.”

you gathered up your courage and told him that you have a thing for him, you didn’t get to say much as he cut you off halfway, “so you like me?” he says, voice sounding cocky for no reason.

“yes- no- wait, i mean yeah! i do but i don’t uhm want anything from this, i’m just telling you, you know? you can forget about it, it’s not really that important.. it’s not like i wanted us to be together or anything,” you feel so tense, like every hair on your skin is standing up straight, you laugh lightly after you realise you have been rambling a whole lot. this is your first time confessing to someone, you’re not quite sure how to do it but you’re sure that you probably messed this one up.

mark didn’t give you a reply of any sort as he pulls you by your wrist into the confessional. you’re stunned by his actions, wondering why he brought you in here. you’re even more stunned when he stepped in too, tugging the curtains closed.

“what are we doing in here?” you nervously question him, standing together in such a close proximity is making you lose your mind. you can feel the warmth of his body on your cold skin.

“baby,” the word rolling off his tongue so smoothly like he’s used to calling you that. he places both his hands on your waist gently, slotting his knee in between your legs. you’ve never had someone touch you before, but it felt nice, it felt good.

“mark,” you whimper when he lifts his knee up higher until it hits your core. from the moment you opened your mouth to initiate a conversation, he knew you weren’t the type to go for parties, to go get laid and come for church to accommodate your sins. you’re actually as innocent as you look, and mark loves girls like you.

“yeah?” his replies, voice so gentle while moving your hips for you to grind on his thigh.

“feels- weird..” you mutter, fingers gripping onto his arm for balance.

“weird? how?” he asks, honestly not caring about what your response would be. before you could give him an answer, he adds, “want me to stop?”

you hastily shake your head. mark’s smirking when he sees your mouth dropping open. the sounds that leaves your lips made mark extremely aroused as he dips his head in your neck, the smell of your perfume intoxicating him, making his mind go hazy.

as if mark never noticed you every single time he showed up for church, the prettiest girl in the room, wearing the skimpiest sundresses known to humankind. he keeps finding himself jerking off to the thought about you whenever the hem of your dress flies up a little too high, giving him a whole view of your cute panty. on some days it’s baby blue, on some days it’s light pink with polka dots on it. all so innocent.

god must be on his side, for making his dream a whole fucking reality. he didn’t even need to try and here you are, handing yourself to him on a silver platter.

mark stops his movements when he feels your wetness soaking through his jeans. you are pushed up against the uncomfortable wooden prickly wall in the confessional as mark pulls your dress up, mouth salivating at the sight of your panty, white with a little pink bow on it. holy shit, you’re just so pure, way too pure for someone so dirty and corrupted like him.

“mark wait—” you softly hold his hands when he was about to touch your private part, snapping him out of his thoughts for just a moment but he’s already thinking of ways to let you let him have it his way.

“you like me right?” he tugs a strand of hair behind your ear when you nod, “this is what people do when they like someone.”

“does that mean you like me too?” you ask, gazing up at him with the most innocent looking eyes ever

mark hums, ignoring your question, “you’re so pretty, so so pretty.” and when he feels your hand leaving his, he wastes no time at all, shoving his fingers through your folds. you’re so wet, pussy dripping with arousal. you have both palms over your mouth, trying to stop the weird noises that were coming out on their own.

“does this feel weird?” he wants you to talk regardless of your hands blocking your mouth. “answer me baby.”

you slowly retreat your hands, “n-no, feels good..” accidentally letting out a moan when mark curls his fingers in you. shit you sound so angelic, and he wants to hear more.

“want me to make you feel even better?” he suggests. being the easily trusting person you are, you nod again with no hesitation. he slips his fingers out of you, placing them on your lips, “open up baby.” and you did so obediently, tasting your liquid with your tongue when he pushes his fingers through your lips.

mark unbuttons his jeans quickly, pulling his cock out of his briefs, lazily pumping it with his tip on your clit. you gag when his fingertips hit the back of your throat, tears welling up in your eyes. he retrieves his wet fingers, grabbing the bottom of your thigh, pushing it up to your chest. he glances down at your dripping soft cunt as he lines his painfully hard cock at your entrance, unable to hold out any longer.

“mark im scared,” your voice is shaking, you don’t think something that big could ever fit inside of you. you’re afraid that you might break, but mark wants to break you.

“don’t be scared baby, i promise it’ll feel real good.” already pushing the tip in, the stretch is unbearable, but you wanted to do your best, you didn’t want to disappoint him, you wanted him to feel good.

“so tight- taking me in so well,” mark huffs as he sinks his length into you all the way to the base, “see, wasn’t so bad right?” he lifts his eyes to meet yours, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes. mark didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get any harder than it already was, but it did.

“fuck- try to stay quiet baby,” he immediately starts moving after rushing his words.

“ahh i-i can’t,” despite trying so hard, gasps and whines kept slipping through your lips.

mark leans in close as he hungrily plants his lips on yours, swallowing down your pretty moans while he’s sucking on your tongue, groaning whenever your walls tighten up around his cock. while one of his hands are on the back of your thighs, his other is found wrapped around your throat, squeezing tighter and tighter by the second. oxygen is getting cut out of your lungs and with the way mark is pounding into you, it’s impossible for you to get a word out, much less a sentence. you can feel your knees starting to give out. you place your hands on either sides of marks’ shoulder, hoping he’ll go slower on you.

when mark parts away from your lips to let you breathe, you cough a little, “mark, i’m feeling weird again..”

“just relax,” he says, picking up his pace, he’s so close to finishing too.

with just a few more thrusts, you moan his name out loud as your body trembled, unable to control the volume of your voice. mark grunts at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him, letting out strings of curses as he came inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

“at least there’s something for me to look forward to during church sundays now,” you hear him say, feeling on cloud nine, mistaking his lust for love. never realising that mark did not once called you by your name.

#vv writes #mark smut #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #mark hard hours #mark lee hard hours #nct hard hours #nct 127 hard hours #nct dream hard hours

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slutterhaus · 8 months

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.temptation

AN: Reposting some old works while I sort my life out lmao I miss Nanbaka ngl CWs: Religious themes, sacrilegious relationships, smut, you two technically get caught, unprotected sex, Enki's dick is also too big and should be classified as a weapon. Other: Smut, Second Person POV, Priest!Enki AFAB!Nun!Reader, Female pronouns are used once. Not proofread. Under read more for obvious reasons. Word Count: 2.5k+

This wasn’t right and you knew it. The thoughts that were running through your mind were impure and sinful and it was all too much at times. Going through confession with him wasn’t helping either since he was the source of your dilemma.

Father Gokuu, one of the sibling-duo priests that had arrived almost a year and a half ago to take care of the frequent demon sightings around town, had a way of tapping into your most primal instincts with little-to-no effort.

His handsome face, his built physique, his towering height, and his combat skills were only some of the few things that had you completely enamored with him; not to mention there was something in the way your name rolled off his tongue, his voice so deep and alluring, so calm and disciplined that it had to be considered a sin in itself.

It wasn’t until he called your name again that you remembered where you were: the confessional. You cleared your throat and apologized, deciding to leave out the reason you spaced-out in the first place. Fumbling with the rosary in your hand, you take a deep breath and try to calm yourself. It was only a confession—you reminded yourself—it was nothing you haven’t done time and time again during your years at the institution.

“You’re distracted, Sister.” He stated, and you could make out the slightest detail of his silhouette as he shifted his position. It made you nervous. You felt like he saw through the confessional screen and right at the deepest depths of your being, like he knew what you wanted to say. “Forgive me, Father. I’ve been feeling uneasy.”

“Demons?”

More like inner demons.

“I don’t know if it has anything to do with last month’s incident, though my nerves have been on end.”

You could hear him hum; low and deep. It made you bite you lip and grip your rosary tighter. How could something so simple break every vow you ever took? Truth be told, this situation annoyed you quite a bit. “Rest.”

His words made you blink in confusion. “Pardon?” You could hear the wood creaking in relief as he got up and out of the confessional. You sighed and leaned back in your seat before finally letting your rosary fall to its usual place on your chest. It left a bad taste in your mouth, lying like that, and you could feel a headache coming on. Maybe you did need to lay down.

Pushing the door to your room open, you made your way to your bed and fell face-first into the mattress. Your body felt heavy and right now, all you wanted to do was sleep. Rolling onto your side, you wondered if you should tell Enki what was going on, even if it meant leaving the institute.

Some of the Sisters murmured about the way he looked at you, and if those were true, then keeping your feelings secret was more trouble than it was worth.

Finally rolling onto your back, you stared up at the ceiling and wondered if you should write him an anonymous letter, maybe ask for some advice or even just let it all out and confess, anything was better than letting this consume you. You groaned, thinking about the situation only made your headache worsen.

Sighing, you reach out to grab the glass of water set on your nightstand and have a drink. The sun was starting to set, you noted, hopefully Enki would tell Sister Hyakushiki why you missed out on dinner. Dealing with her in the morning would definitely be better than having to sit at the same table with him right now.

Maybe he did.

It took a while of tossing and turning before actually drifting off to sleep, and your subconscious certainly did not help. You weren’t safe from him even in your dreams. The worst part of it was that everything felt so real. His tall frame looming over you, his skin slick with sweat shimmering under the moonlight as his chest heaved with the grunts he kept under control, those piercing red eyes staring into yours so intently that you thought he could see into your soul.

The only light you had was the illumination coming through from the full moon, just like the one in your dream. It was enough to let you find your way to the bathroom, where you quickly filled the tub and got in once the water level was enough to reach your collarbone. The cold water made your hair stand on end and got a shiver out of you, but it erased any heated thoughts you had at the moment.

Maybe he saw everything you wanted to tell him. The thought alone made you jolt awake, breathing heavily as you wiped the sweat from your brow. That’s it; you needed a cold bath now.

After getting out and throwing on a fresh nightgown, anything impure relating to Enki was gone.

“Come in.” You called, making sure not to be too loud and disrupt the Sisters next door. And there he was, bending slightly as he came into your room. You gasped and quickly pulled the blanker up to your chest, covering up just in case. He closed the door behind him but didn’t move, just stared right at you.

That is, until you heard a knock on your door.

It was actually kind of embarrassing.

“Did I disturb you?”

“Ah, no, not at all, I was already awake. Is there anything you need, Father?”

He seemed to dislike it when you called him that, since he scrunched up his nose slightly. “You can call me Enki in private, if you’d like.” His deep voice was almost enough to make you red. “Alright. Is there anything I can help you with, Enki?”

“There is.” You motioned for him to take a seat on your desk, which he took, the wooden chair groaning at the stress. Clearing his throat, he crossed his arms over his chest, making sure to maintain eye contact with you. “I have a request and a question. Your answer determines if I tell you my request.” You nodded slowly; a bit curious to what he could ask of you.

“What do you think of me?”

“E-excuse me?” His question caught you a bit off-guard, but it didn’t fail to make your heart start racing. He asked you again, slower this time, and you could swear he was doing it on purpose. You cleared your throat and took a deep breath through your nose. “Why would what I think of you matter? I’m sure you’ve heard the Sisters’ muttering.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Unless you tell me why you want to know, that is my answer.”

Enki couldn’t help the small smirk that came to his lips. He was certainly pleased with it, so he guessed it wouldn’t hurt to tell you. “I’ve been called for an extermination in America.” Your heart dropped; you were sure he could see it in your eyes. “I’m leaving in a few days, and I want you to come with me.”

You let out a surprised gasp. His gaze never left you, making you bite your bottom lip. “Are you sure of what you’re asking? The Sisters already talk about us as is, what would they say if we—“

“I don’t care what anyone has to say about the matter. However, if you do not wish to come, I won’t force you to.”

Both of you sat in silence for a few moments before you spoke. “Why me?”

Enki shifted in his seat slightly. “I suppose, I haven’t exactly told you…” He got up and walked towards your spot on the bed. “I have feelings for you, that’s why. It’s also probably the reason why the Sisters are snooping around to see if anything is going on between us.” His words made you turn red. “Enki…” You voice was barely above a whisper. “Of course I’ll go with you.” You could see his muscles relax. Was he actually tense at the thought of you rejecting him?

“Is it late to admit that I have feelings for you too?” He looked down at your smiling face, which was contagious to say the least. Lifting his hands towards your face slowly, he cupped your cheeks. You nuzzled against his palm gently as he bent down, breath fanning against your lips as he spoke. “Of course not.”

The husky tone of his voice made your hairs stand on end as he pressed his lips against yours. It was a deep, quick kiss the first time; the second held more passion behind it, his lips sensually guiding yours in a slow sync. The only sound that could be heard in the room were the smacks and sucks of your heated make-out session before he pulled back, much to your disappointment.

He ran his thumb across your bottom lip, eyes staring longingly into yours before he placed a kiss on your forehead. “Out of curiosity, what was so bad that you couldn’t tell me at confessional today?”

“I, um, was… having some sinful thoughts about you…” He chuckled at the embarrassed look on your face. “Perhaps we’re both guilty.”

“So the rumors were true, you were side-eyeing me.” You giggled; he stuck his tongue out playfully, giving you the view of his pierced tongue. The sight made heat pool between your legs and had you wrapping your arms around his neck.

Placing one knee on the bed, he shifted his weight to his arms, effectively caging you between them and eliciting a small gasp from you. His next kiss almost seemed hesitant, as if you were going to change your mind at any given moment. You lifted yourself up slightly, brushing your lips against his in reassurance. “I want you, Enki. More than just physically, I want to be by your side as someone you can depend on.”

You could feel a relieved exhale escape him and thought that was kind of endearing. He came down again, this time with feverish enthusiasm as his lips moved against yours, nipping at yours lightly and urging you to do the same. His kisses traveled from the corner of your mouth, down your jaw, and finally latching on to your neck where he left pale hickies in places that made you squirm and whine.

His tall, built frame loomed over you as he pulled away, giving you enough space for you to remove your nightgown and for him to undo his white button-up before discarding both of them onto the floor. You felt a bit nervous as his gaze traveled along your body, hands giving a few experimental caresses here and there. His touches ended just below your breasts, enjoying the small blush that dusted your cheeks when he gave them a kneed. Your breath hitched, a shaky breath leaving you as he thumbed your nipples and placed open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

Sneaky fingers unoccupied their place on your left breast and ventured down slowly towards your hip all the while ghosting random patterns here and there with his teasing touches. His mouth replaced his hand, earning a small mewl from you as his tongue and thumb worked simultaneously on your sensitive buds. Your fingers laced themselves into his hair, giving an involuntary tug whenever something felt better than good.

His attention to your breasts almost distracted you from his adventurous hand and how his index finger hooked onto the waistline of your underwear. Pulling them down, he admired how the goosebumps on your skin appeared as soon as he started trailing kisses down your abdomen. He didn’t, however, appreciate the way you were trying to hold in any sound. His gaze met yours when you looked down at him, and he made sure to tease you with slow and sensual kisses to your skin. A tentative lick went down your pelvis, and a smirk appeared on his face when you cried out right after his tongue went flat against your clit.

This was sinful, this whole situation was, but neither of you seemed to care anymore. All that went through your minds was enjoying everything both of you had to offer.

Your grip on his hair tightened and your hips rolled on their own, breath catching in your throat whenever he looked up to meet your eyes. Every kiss, every lick, every suck drove you wild and all you could do was throw your head back, let his name fall off your lips like a prayer, and move against his tongue. That piercing sure did wonders; it had you cumming in no time.

Maybe it was the sexual tension you had been building up since God knows how long, but Enki had your legs trembling and your chest heaving using only his mouth, and that orgasm left you seeing stars even after your breathing calmed.

You looked down, the red on your cheeks returning when you saw his slick lips and chin. He looked at you through half-lidded eyes and ran his tongue along his lips slowly, undoing his belt as your breath hitched again. The sight alone had you trying to rub your legs together, only to be stopped by his hips. He gave you a moment to take in everything, slowly sliding down his black slacks and his boxers before grabbing your thigh and hooking your leg onto his waist as he brought you close.

His eyes locked with yours, searching for approval. You nodded your head slowly and he took both your arms to drape over his muscular shoulders. The head of his cock brushed against your wet folds, coating itself before he rubbed the rest of himself against you. You bit your lip, mostly because the feeling was arousing, but also to try and relax yourself.

Your hands hold onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he pushed himself inside you slowly. He locked his jaw, teeth slightly bared as a groan vibrated in his chest. One of his hands makes sure to rub circles around your clit and ease away the discomfort with some pleasure while the other leaves your thigh to cup your cheek and bring you into another searing kiss.

He grunted into your mouth when you rolled your hips against his. You pulled away slightly, murmuring a soft ‘Move’ before going in for another kiss. Enki did as he was told and started a slow pace, all the while making sure his thumb kept in sync with his rhythm. When you threw your head back in a moan, he latched his lips onto your neck again. His thrusts started to pick up, and he appreciated the way your hips met his half-way.

Your hold on his neck tightened and you could feel the familiar sensation starting to build up again. Judging by the frequent grunts that were drowned out by your own mewls, you assumed he was too. His name spilled from your lips again, and both of your legs tightened around his waist while his free hand gripped the sheets beside your head.

It wasn’t long before you came again, contracting against his cock in a tight squeeze that had his hips sputtering against yours as his orgasm washed over him too.

The aftermath had you in a daze, fingers absent-mindly tracing over his toned chest. His eyes were trained on your face, taking in the sight of your glowing face, before snapping his head at the door when both of you heard a knock.

“We need to talk. Both of you.”

It was Sister Hyakushiki. And she didn’t sound amused.

#—Loading Content #—Unholy #—In my Delusions #—Enki Gokuu #—Enki x Reader #—Nanbaka #—Nanbaka Smut #—my writing

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wheredafandomat · 2 years

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Blood Lust 🩸P1🩸

Confession

Next Chapter

After saying goodbye to all of the guests, you began blowing out all the candles from your dads sermon. Apparently it wasn’t good luck to blow out candles and that it was better if you used your fingers to extinguish the flame but you weren’t too superstitious or religious considering the fact that your dad was a vicar. Being brought up in such a religious household caused you to refrain from spiritual practices but you still helped out wherever you could. Whilst your dad delivered sermons and speeches, you’d be the one that cleaned up after everyone, ensuring everything was put back in the right place and was ready for the next service. There were few things you liked about your ‘job’ if you’d call it that but the things you did like, you loved. Weddings as well as christenings were always a treat.

You blew out a few more candles until you heard the faint footsteps of someone walking in. Assuming it was someone that had forgotten something, you quickly spun on your heels, putting on your most approachable, happy face. Your eyes landed on a set of unfamiliar ones. Emerald eyes pierced into yours causing you smile to slightly falter. Quickly scanning his form, you realised you had never seen this man before in your life. He had Long raven locks that fell at his shoulders, his attire consisted of a three piece black suit and leather shoes. He radiated a captivating darkness.

“Can I help you?” You asked, feigning confidence.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned, that’s how I wanted to begin this conversation however, you’re not a priest and you’re definitely not my father.” He smirked, taking a step towards you.

“If you wait a moment I can go and quickly get my dad, he’s the one that does this sort of thing.” You offered.

“No need, you’ll suffice.” He quipped.

“He’s probably just round the back, if you give me a second—”

“You’ll suffice.” He repeated more sternly leaving you no space to argue. Cautiously you stepped into the confessional box as he followed behind you. You tried to keep your breaths even remembering all you really had to do was listen. Just listen y/n. You both stepped inside with a thin wall separating you. “Forgive me father for I have sinned.” He began “it’s been just over two hundred years since my last confession.” He stated causing you to snort. “Is there something funny?” He questioned.

“No, no, sorry carry on.” You assured.

“As I was saying, it has been over two hundred years since my last confession— please do share the joke” he insisted hearing you giggling.

“It can feel that way can’t it” you laughed “I haven’t been in one of these since I was seven and saw two people kissing in a film. It stirred something in me and I thought I sinned. Feels like two hundred years to me as well.” You explained.

“How terrible.” He replied unenthusiastically causing you to clear your throat allowing him to continue. “As you know father, I have done many bad things in my life but my most recent transgression has left me unable to sleep at night despite my imported Egyptian cotton sheets.”

You tried your hardest to stifle your laugh at the seriousness of his tone before he asked your name.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m y/n.” You answered “you?“

“Loki.“

“Hi Loki. Please do continue when you’re ready.”

“Very well, I have began feasting on human blood again and I feel awful because guilt is a feeling I lack.” He sighed, causing your eyes to widen as your blood ran cold at how honest he sounded. You took in a shaky breath hoping he was simply joking. “I don’t kill them, I stop before I feel them falling limp in my arms but I often wonder what I’d do if I lost control. Would I go on a killing spree again like I did in the 1700s or simply return home and allow you to lock me up in the dungeons?”

An uncomfortable silence settled between you both and you found yourself hoping your dad would hurry back. You knew this man was lying but he still made you feel uneasy.

“Y/n, you’re being awfully quiet.” He spoke.

“I—um.” You stuttered, gasping when the door to your side of the box was pulled open.

“What, something I said?” Loki sniggered causing you to scream until he quickly covered your mouth. “Shh” he whispered, looking into your eyes. As if you were under a spell, you found yourself unable to make a noise. He felt your lips trembling beneath his hand as tears began to wet his finger. “You’re supposed to be consoling me.” He huffed. You nodded profusely until he dropped his hand. You found yourself unable to scream. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill anyone I just had to get it off of my chest and admit the fact that human blood is delectable.” He hummed praisingly, watching your horrified expression. “I almost feel weightless now that I’ve confessed, I guess these things really do work.” He smiled, looking around the box. He turned to leave before quickly looking back at you “don’t worry y/n, once I’m gone you won’t remember any of this, well, until you see me again of course. Thanks for the chat, it was rather therapeutic.” He grinned before departing. You sat in fear, silence and shock until suddenly you released a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Your eyes searched your surroundings leaving you confused as to why you were sitting in your dads side of the confessional. Exiting, you touched your face feeling tears.

“Must have gotten something in my eye.” You thought aloud “and note to self y/n, get a decent nights sleep tonight so you don’t end up falling asleep in the confessional.”

Once Loki arrived at home, he was greeted by two ravens at his door, one of which was holding a small scroll in its beak.

“Hello birds, and what tidings do you bring me today?” He chirped, bending down and retrieving the paper before opening his door and entering, closing the door when one of the ravens tried to enter behind him. Sitting down, he opened the scroll to read the message.

Loki, the midgardians are under under my protection. Harm them and you’ll answer to me. Also, do not try and contact father ever again, your banishment is still in place for another hundred years.

Rolling his eyes, Loki set the scroll aflame after reading Thors words.

“And suddenly I’m no longer feeling weightless again.” He huffed.

A/N: so basically I wrote a bit of a vamp Loki fic ages ago but it was so trash so I thought I’d start something new especially after seeing vamp Loki pics last night. This will probably be one of them quick ones I write under 10 chaps that get 3 notes 🤣🤣🤣 hope everyone’s well!!

Tags:

@mischief2sarawr

@immersed-in-mischief

@sharris8

@llaufeysondggerxx

#loki x reader #tom hiddelston loki #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#oc fiction #loki fanfiction #loki x avenger reader #tom hiddleston #vampire #vampire loki #loki au

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geodaddy-fanfics · 3 years

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"Way Down We Go" Nanami Kento X Fem!Reader

Author's Note: I was asked to write a Priest Nanami AU fic by a friend and decided to make it part of her birthday present. Happy Birthday! Hope you like it! (I've never written smut before so... I tried. Also this is smut, so be warned).

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Churches, generally conceived as places of peace and worship, are also active locations for the creation of curses. The amount of loathing that accompanies the concept of “sin” plagues the congregations and buildings of God. As such, it was expected within the career of all jujutsu sorcerers for them to “serve” in at least one church and exterminate the various curses clinging to their hosts.

Said expectation (tied together with the conniving mind of one blindfolded loudmouth) meant that Nanami Kento, renowned sorcerer and loather of overtime, was currently masquerading as a priest and presiding over the evening congregations at a large Catholic church. Needless to say, Nanami was displeased with this assignment. Not only was he required to work beginning in the evening, he could not leave the church until he was the last one there. He had no set schedule and that irked him immensely, as well as the fact that he could not wear his usual attire, having to sacrifice his suit and tie for the black garb of modern priests.

It was a Sunday, the busiest day for churches of course, approximately a week into his service, and Nanami was once again seated inside of the confessional booth. It was exactly what he expected it to be, listening to the mundane problems of the masses while trying to match voices to faces of those unintentionally harboring curses. He’d been preaching and listening for hours, the time bordering on ten in the evening, and the small crowd was thankfully thinning. The final person stepped into the booth beside him, hidden from view, but the nervous breathing echoing through the box indicated that the individual was probably new to the faith, or at least hadn’t practiced in a while.

“Tell me, father,” the voice asked the awaiting silence. “Do we get what we deserve?”

The question piqued Nanami’s interest and he leaned towards the wall unintentionally. Usually people plopped down into the booth and listed out their various sins: liars, adulterers, thieves, and the like concerned not with change or forgiveness, but with societal standing. This woman with the quiet question had made this evening at least somewhat bearable.

“Explain to me what you mean,” Nanami questioned, racking his brain to see if he could place the face to the voice beside him.

There was a quiet sigh, as if the speaker had hoped for a simple answer. “Do you think that our actions matter? Like, if I live a sin free life or a sinful one, so long as I repent, does it matter?” The woman was clearly frustrated.

Perhaps this one question had been her only reason to turn to the church today, Nanami mused. “What, then, do you think you deserve?” He couldn’t help but ask, regardless of whether it prolonged his stay on sacred ground.

There was a moment of silence as the woman hesitated. “I’m… not sure. I work so hard every single day and I need to know if it matters.” Exhaustion poured through her last few words, the weariness of maintaining a life under society’s conditions. Nanami could relate, especially within the confines of the confessional booth many miles away from the comforts of his home and normal schedule.

“Well then, I can only recommend you one thing,” he stated. “I do not know whether our work pays off in whatever afterlife awaits us, if any. So, I suggest you take a break.”

“A break…” the woman replied, mildly confused. “I don’t understand, Father.”

Nanami didn’t understand it much himself, but as he pushed open the door to the confessional and stood surrounded by the altar's candles, he decided he could use a break as well.

Having heard the priest leave the booth, so too did the confessor. She wore an expression of wariness and confusion, but Nanami was distracted by the deep exhaustion present on her face. He was right in matching the voice to its owner, having noticed the woman in the congregation the last few nights. She had sparked his interest as one of few genuine people in the audience, even if she was skeptical about the religion, and hearing her in the booth only made it abundantly clear why he found himself mildly distracted by her during the sermons. They could both use one hell of a break.

The woman folded her arms in front of her, eyeing him with a mix of interest and doubt. “Are you planning to explain yourself, Father?”

Nanami held out his hand. As she placed her fingers gently in his palm, he tugged her forward and wrapped an arm around her waist. “A little divine intervention seems in order, my child.” She settled into his arms, seemingly comforted by his embrace. The blonde man tightened his hold on her noticeably and stared into her enticingly wide eyes.

“You better make this worth it,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “I’ve had a long day, you know.” It was clear she wanted what he was offering. Whether through attraction to him, a need for a distraction, or a mixture of both, the woman was leaning heavily upon his chest. Her arms slowly snaked up around his neck, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair invitingly.

Rather than waste more time on words, he brushed his lips up gently against hers, a silent vow to make this a godly experience. The woman seized the moment and eagerly kissed him back, turning the saintly, chaste promise into what they were both truly wanting. Nanami tightened his arms around her waist, digging his fingers into the soft fabric of her dark dress. It looked barely appropriate to wear to church in Nanami’s brain. The way it accentuated her body, the confidence with which she held herself, was too hard to resist and he was glad he stopped trying.

A light nip to her bottom lip was all the woman needed to let him into her mouth, his tongue slipping inside and providing the guidance needed to deepen their kiss. Nanami was all but drowning in the delicious sighs and moans gifted to him and diligently worked to achieve more. All the while, he gracefully guided their bodies towards the altar and thoughtlessly pushed aside the tools from his earlier sermon to sit his current subject of worship upon the chilled wood. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it did the job just fine.

Nanami situated himself between the woman’s thighs, grinding every so often against her and earning tugs on his hair in return. “Tell me, little lamb,” he said, pulling back enough to meet the lust darkened eyes of his partner. “Will you sing for me?” His hands were on her thighs, pushing up the fabric of her dress and relishing in the soft feel of her exposed skin. He wanted nothing more than to lay her back and wreck her on this holy ground, but he waited as patiently as he possibly could to prolong this much deserved night.

“God, yes,” the woman sighed in response. Her hands wandered over his clothed skin, wondering what he felt like beneath, but rather turned on by the perfection of his priestly garb. His eyes gazed into hers, dark and wide, and color dusted sculpted cheeks. She wanted to comment how fitting it was for him to be a man of the lord when his calloused fingers hooked into her panties and gave a firm tug. All thoughts fled her brain and she moaned as a knuckle rubbed gently through the gathered wetness about her core.

“Just like that, darling,” Nanami praised, barely containing a groan as her fingernails dug delightfully into his shoulders. Swiftly, he fully removed her underwear and let it drop to the floor beside the altar. The man planted another kiss onto his partner’s blushing cheek before fluidly getting to his knees. Nanami braced his hands onto her thighs and parted them from where they had begun to close in around his face. He paused for only a moment to take in the glistening sight before him before descending his lips and tongue into the warmth before him.

He licked a broad stripe from her center to her already tender bud, huffing a breath of pure arousal at the breathy moan that sounded above him. The sound echoed off of the stone walls of the cathedral, accompanied by the wet noise that followed his tongue’s assault on her clit. Nanami relished the feeling of her fingers on his scalp and the soft spew of encouragement from above him. Already, he felt uncomfortably hard, but focused himself on pleasing the woman before him. As one hand left her thigh and traveled up under the fabric of her dress to caress the flesh beneath, Nanami slipped his tongue inside her pleading hole. He caressed the delicate walls, licking in an out to taste her fully. Her nails gripped onto his once neat blonde locks and he groaned at the feeling, the vibrations doing everything to bring her closer and closer to the edge.

Nanami continued his ministrations, burying his face into her sweet core and letting her legs close around him so his other hand could entertain her nub while he worked. With each circle of his rough thumb, he felt the woman coming undone around him. Her legs shook gently over his shoulders, but he relentlessly continued to thrust his tongue in and out of her, caressing as deep as he could in her tightening walls.

“Oh god, Father, I-” the woman attempted to say between moans of pleasure. “I’m going to-” She cut herself off with a silent scream, her face turned toward the chapel ceiling as Nanami worked her through the waves of her orgasm. He lapped up the fluids gathering around his tongue and soothingly rubbed circles onto the inner skin of her thigh, waiting until the iron grip she had on his hair relaxed and her legs no longer clamped around his head.

Nanami returned to his feet, the results of the woman’s first release glistening on his lips. There was no hesitation from either party as their mouths’ met, the taste of her on both their tongues as she greedily hugged him closer for more despite the light shaking of her body. “Please tell me that wasn’t all,” she breathed against his mouth with a coy grin.

Nanami huffed a laugh and pulled back slightly. “I’m delivering what you deserve, am I not?” He teased, grinding again against the wetness between them, not caring what it did to his black pants. The woman squirmed from the stimulation, her face a fight between a wince and the ‘oh’ of another moan.

Her fingers scrambled for purchase against the smooth fabric separating them. “I want to feel you…” She pleaded, the apprehension from earlier entirely gone. Nanami held back a groan by pressing his lips back against hers, loving how eager she was for what he wanted as well. He took the time to slip her dress entirely off of her, exposing her to the cool air of the church and the wandering of his hands. Nanami was in no rush, despite how he ached within the confines of his pants. He wanted nothing more than to continue to defile such a faithful child of god, to feel all of her skin against his fingers, to hear every little sound that left her beautiful mouth because of him.

Sadly for him, his partner was in no mood to delay. She tugged at the front of his pants, undoing the hidden button and zipper to free his lengthy and leaking member from its prison. Nanami watched her swallow from between partially lidded eyes as a small wave of relief spread through him at being exposed to the open air. “It’s not nice to lie, Father,” the woman chuckled, wrapping her hand around his cock and giving it a fair few strokes. “Those pants barely show a thing.”

Lord, was he worked up. Taking it slower would have to wait for another day. Regardless, Nanami gently placed his hand over hers, using them both to guide the head of his member to her entrance. “Then forgive me, for I have sinned.” He placed his other hand on her shoulder, guiding her to lay down against the altar and running his fingers tantalizingly down her body. Carefully, Nanami plunged into her, the stretch of her walls around him causing them both to release heavy groans towards the heavens. “God help me..” He whispered into the air with a chuckle while he waited for her to adjust to the intrusion. The sweet tightness swallowing him whole begged for him to start moving, to see how delicious it would feel for her body to milk every last drop from him, yet he waited until she impatiently twitched around him.

Looking down at her, Nanami couldn’t help but snort. “Patience is a virtue, darling.” His voice was strained from the effort it took to resist from pounding into her.

The shock of the intrusion gone, the playful smile returned to her face. “Does that mean I’ll be punished, Father?”

A genuine laugh broke from Nanami’s throat and he positioned his hands on her waist. “I suppose it is necessary. Virtues must be learned somehow.” He then began a sudden and harsh pace, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back. The drag of his cock along her walls was pure bliss, the stretch barely painful beyond the pleasure being literally pounded into her body. Perhaps it was the euphoria, but the woman could swear his unrelenting pace hit places she never knew could feel so good, each slap of skin on skin eliciting gasps and pleas from her.

Even better was the look plastered on the ever stoic and serious Nanami, the priest she had only ever seen scowling from behind the altar he was currently railing her on. His brows were drawn and his jaw set tight around every groan and grunt rung from him. The sternness was different from usual, no longer the reproachful hand of god, but a man hellbent on finding and giving release. His fingers held on with bruising strength, moving her body for her as he struck again and again at her most sensitive spot. Her fingers clawed for purchase on the thin red fabric covering the wooden slab of the altar as stars shot in and out, throwing everything out of focus except for where Nanami’s body and hers connected.

With the echoes of their voices and skin bouncing around them, Nanami was getting progressively closer to climax. The time spent pleasuring his partner had sufficiently worked him up and the pressure wrapped around his cock was godly. Seeing the edge approaching, he released one hand from its forceful grip and moved it to toy with her clit once again and bring her along with him towards release.

The woman clung to the altar with one hand above her head, her eyes scrunched shut as the coil in her core threatened to snap for the second time that evening. It didn’t take much longer for orgasm to hit, her walls clenching tight around Nanami’s cock and her barely opened eyes staring fuzzily at the church ceiling as every nerve in her body tensed and released in waves. Nanami was short to follow, the pressure around him too wonderful and the expression of the woman before him enough to tip him over the edge. He pulled out with a wet pop before painting the woman and the altar in long spurts of cum. He braced his hands on the wood on either side of her body, their heavy breathing filling the space as they both reeled back into themselves.

Before a silence could settle, Nanami began to put himself back together, cleaning himself off with a handkerchief and tucking himself back into his pants. “I will be just a moment,” he informed the still shaking woman and went to retrieve a hand towel from the closet near the church’s restroom. He began gently and diligently cleaning her, then helped her back into her clothes. Aside from the red swollenness of their lips and the disheveled state of their hair, the two looked nearly normal. Nanami had been careful not to leave any visible marks on her, had kept his lips to hers or to places unseen, simply because they had not had the time to discuss what exactly was okay and what wasn’t beforehand. Despite having fucked a churchgoer on an altar just moments before, Nanami was a gentleman and respected any boundaries his partner may have had.

With the evidence of their “worship” cleaned up, the two adults walked towards the doors of the church. The woman paused at the door and looked up to Nanami with a broad, relaxed smile. “Thank you, Father. For the break.” An amused laugh bubbled past her lips and Nanami found himself grinning slightly in return.

“Any time, my child. I am here to serve,” he said, extending a hand with a simple business card in it. “Even when I am no longer part of this congregation.” While generally saved for curse work, Nanami always carried cards with his name and number on it. And this definitely seemed like a worthwhile time to give on.

The woman took it and tucked it into her purse securely. “I hope to see you again soon,” she said in farewell, leaving Father Nanami behind to finish attending to church duties. Perhaps the mandatory service as a priest wasn’t so bad. It certainly had its perks.

#nanami kento #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk nanami

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navegandoaciegas · 4 years

Text

Sunday Sinday

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader [Priest AU]

Warnings: priest!Bucky, explicit language, smut, very desecrating and blasphemous thoughts and actions, masturbation, corruption kink, sex in a public place, hair pulling. Both parties are consenting adults.

Summary: Father James preaches at Mass, and you think there’s no better time to sin than Sundays.

A/N: Yesterday (9/9) was my 21st birthday and I’m posting filth to celebrate it. @whateveriwant and I share one horny braincell and we had the same idea, so here it is bb.

Wide shoulders straining his black cassock, long chestnut hair pulled back, errant strands framing his chiselled face, thick rimmed glasses perched on top of his nose, Father James should be the depiction of all that’s holy, image and likeness of God himself, and instead he’s temptation in the flesh, and all you can think about as you do the sign of the cross and sit in the back pew is how much you want to do wrong with him.

“I confess to Almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do.”

His soft voice fills the room, subtle blush on his cheeks, the memory of all your shared sins in the fleeting looks he sends your way. His impure fantasies of you on your knees, your pretty lips around his cock, you taking his virginity of the altar, fucking under the cross, in the confessional, the filthy whispers in your ears, words he never imagined would come out of his mouth, the taste of you lingering on his tongue. He never stood a chance against temptation, not if you’re the one luring him straight to Hell.

You tune out of his sermon, merely standing, sitting, and kneeling as you see the others do: there’s the column he stood against as you sucked him off, the bench he bent you over and spanked you for the first time, the backdoor where the cleaning lady almost caught you.

“We listen to a reading from the New Testament.” he announces, clears his throat, adjusts his glasses, and opens the Holy Bible, fingers scanning over the verses he knows by heart.

There’s guilt in preaching what he doesn’t practice, but there’s also that exhilarating feeling of omnipotence that comes with being in love, that rush of adrenaline of loving in secret and doing the impossible to not get caught whilst wishing you would be.

The devoted churchgoers sitting in the front rows are too absorbed to notice you, hanging onto every word he recites, and the rest of the benches are empty, the saints and cherubs on the walls and Jesus on the cross your only witnesses as you quickly slip out of your panties and spread your legs, waiting for him to notice you, a teasing smile finding its way on your lips.

“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we-”

He looks up from the pages, and his eyes meet you, or more likely what’s between your legs. He stutters, John or Matthew’s verses escaping his mind, “If we- we, uh, confess, we confess, yes, our sins- uh.”

Silence. Awkward, tense silence.

The white collar around his neck is suddenly too stiff and suffocating. Father James is like a deer caught in the headlights, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his eyes flit around the room. The blush on his cheeks betrays his sinful thoughts, and he can only hope, as he gapes in front of his audience, that they won’t notice the tent in his cassock, the sweat on his forehead, his heaving chest and the light fog forming in his glasses.

Whispers arise, ‘is Father James alright?’, the good, righteous churchgoers ask among themselves, concerned about their beloved priest.

“As I was saying.” he clears his throat after a strangled apology, his fingertips finding the verse he was reading again, “If we say we have not sinned-”

His voice is a low buzz as he resumes his sermon, tension clear in his taut muscles and dry mouth; memories of all the times he’s taken you on these wooden benches invade your minds. All the times you’ve choked him with the cross around his neck, all those he’s spent on his knees, worshipping you like a goddess.

His pure soul you’ve tarnished with yours, the filthy words that sound so right on his holy mouth, his heady taste on your tongue when you swallow him whole, your wish to ruin him.

Your walls throb, arousal pooling at your entrance and rubbing on the fabric of your skirt as you grind your core on the bench, desperate for some sort of release.

He raises the chalice. “...It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me.”

You were never one for good decisions, especially not when your brain is as fogged as his glasses. And there’s no better day to sin than Sunday, afterall.

You slip a finger inside your glistening folds, looking at him through lidded eyes, wishing he would be fucking you against the altar instead. Father James’ eyes go wide as saucers when he catches sight of you playing with your dripping pussy under your skirt, and he chokes on his wine, sputtering and coughing.

You close your legs and bite your lips when someone walks up to him and pats his back to help him through his fit. He glares at you, and you stifle a laugh, the scene too comical to keep quiet.

“Forgive me.” he stutters to the small crowd, worry evident in their eyes, “It went down the wrong way.” he tries to ease the tension , “We can begin the communion rite now, if I don’t choke before.” and earns himself a collective chuckle.

The walk from the back to the front of the church seems endless. Thighs rubbing together and against your folds, a light breeze from an open door blows up your skirt just slightly, but enough that if someone were to pay attention, they’d see you’re not wearing any panties.

You’re the last of the line, and by the time you get to him, the rest of the people are kneeling, their head bowed, oblivious to the tension between their good priest and the new girl in town.

“The Body of Christ.”

It’s a whisper, soft and intimate, meant for you and only you, the blue of his eyes swallowed by darkness when you part you lips wide open and stick your tongue out, a sight he’s seen countless times before, when you’re on your knees begging him to fuck your mouth. Air stills when your tongue brushes against his trembling fingertips, a shiver running down his spine, a groan almost escaping him because of what that damn tongue is capable of. Eyes locked together as you slowly chew, his gaze following the lump of your throat as you swallow.

“Amen.”

It’s lust, it’s sin, it’s wrong but it sure feels right.

He watches your hips sway as you walk back to your seat, knowing your pussy is bare and wet for him beneath your skirt, and he can’t wait for mass to be over soon.

Incense is thick in the air, and a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his presence. A hand pulls your shirt and shoves you behind one of the columns to the sides where you usually wait for your sweet boy after mass. The marble is cold against your back, his hold like a vice on your flesh, and it stirs up something inside you. He’s never touched you like this, not your shy, doe eyed James, with his tentative kisses and trembling hands.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he whispers harshly, lips hovering over yours.

A gasp, you feign surprise. “Since when do you use that language? You kiss the cross with those lips?”

“You're a bad influence.” he chuckles, “Anyone could have seen.”

“But no one did.” you retort “And that’s the fun part, baby boy.”

His fingers will leave bruises behind, you muse, as you take in the fire in his eyes and his body towering over yours. Your recklessness, your attitude, your pretty face, his lack of restraint, the way he can never resist you, his body that acts on its own, the animal instinct that snaps inside him when his hips thrust against yours and his hard cock presses on your stomach.

“You wanted to get caught, didn’t you?”

Your tongue finds its way from his neck to the shell of his ears, leaving goosebumps behind, “Can you imagine the scandal?”

“You’re such a brat.” is his strangled response as his hips roll against you, pinning you to the wall. His breathing is ragged, his jaw clenched.

“I am a brat Father, do you think you can forgive me for that?” you purr, a hand sneaking between you and palming his aching cock through his cassock.

“I don’t know, angel.” he mumbles in your hair, a thick thigh coming between yours. “You need to repent, and then atone.”

“How can I do that, Father? I want it so, so bad.”

Your skin is scorching hot, your head dizzy as his smell clings to you and intoxicates you.

In a blur you find yourself spun around, the marble digging painfully in your cheeks, his hand groping your ass and kneading the flesh to the point that it hurts. A whimper escapes your mouth when he slowly grazes your things up to your aching core, and he cups your pussy with a possessive hold.

“You’re so wet, all for me?”

It’s a soft whisper, a stupid question maybe.

“Only for you.”

He peppers your neck with small kisses, nipping your delicate skin. Your walls flutter around nothing, you’re desperate to feel him inside you, his thick cock filling you like no else’s can.

Father James is not a patient man.

His fingers swirl around your swollen clit, and you’re pretty sure there’s slick running down your thighs. The pressure in your cunt is almost painful as you wait for him to lift his cassock and free himself.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

It’s a low vibration grunted in your ear as he strokes his length and lines himself with your entrance, his tip smearing your arousal around.

“I’m yours.”

He slams his cock inside you, and you mewl when he fully sheathes himself. He sets a low pace, taking his time to slide in and out of your, revelling in the way your walls grip him so tight.

“More.”

You’re not begging, you swear. You’re merely requesting. A command, really.

“You must say your penance first, sweetheart.” he taunts you, his wicked self coming out the more time he spends between your legs, and you find out you’re not so different after all. “An Act of Contrition, princess.”

You feel your pussy clench down on his cock, the coil getting tighter with each gentle stroke. Your mind is swirling, and you desperately cling onto the last rationality you’ve got left to remember your prayer.

“My God.” you snarl when his hand pulls your hair, and you arch your back, this new position allowing his tip to reach the sweet spot inside you, “My God, I’m sorry for my- my sins” you moan, “with all my heart.”

He fastens his pace, the depravity of this all edging him closer to his release with each sweet sound you make. “Are you really?”

“Yes, yes, oh my God. I’m sorry, in choosing to do wrong and failing to do good,” you pant, tears streaming down your face, your breaths ragged, “I have sinned against you, whom I should-.” You’re sobbing, your hands clutching his shoulders for dear life, the sound of his balls slapping against your pussy so lewd as it resonates in the empty walls.

“Just like that, don’t stop, please.” you mewl, feeling the knot in your core about to unravel, your vision getting spotty around the edges.

You pull on his collar and tug him down, biting his lips, your tongue tasting his, his plush lips against yours, his hand around your neck. A harsh snap of his hips, one last look at the crying angel above you, and you come on his cock, your pussy so tight around him that he follows shortly after, his cock swelling inside you and filling you to the brim with his cum. Your limbs jerk uncontrollably, your eyes roll to the back of your head.

His hot breath fans over your neck, strong arms holding you flush against his chest. A soft kiss on your forehead, a gentle smile on his lips, your heartbeat frantic, and not because of the orgasm that just wrecked you.

“Am I forgiven, Father?”

The rumble in his chest as he snickers warms your heart more than it should.

“You didn’t finish your prayers, princess. Looks like we’re gonna have to do this all over again.”

God, you love Sundays.

If you’re interested in more Father James, check this out. This one shot is part of Innocent! priest Bucky x Reader. I hope you all enjoyed it, and if you did, please leave some feedback, I love reading your comments.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #priest!bucky #bucky barnes smut #marvel smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic

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gasolineghuleh · 3 years

Text

To Join One’s Own

Commission for the lovely roxas-zen-frost!

Terzo mocking as a Catholic priest manages to convince one of the Sisters in the convent to come and join him in the confessional for a night of sinful passion.

18+ below. Mirrored on ao3 as always, lovelies.

You sit bolt upright in bed with a gasp as your heart pounds in your ears, blood rushing to your face to redden your cheeks. The cross clenched in your fist feels more like a mockery than a religious symbol as you realize the slickness that’s sticking your panties to you. Breathing deeply you remember the dream that caused you to waken so quickly, and the blood rushes somewhere else… A moment later finds you on your back once more with your hand between your legs. As soon as your finger slips past your slick entrance you cum, turning your head and biting the pillow between your gnashing teeth to stifle your moans, just in case one of your fellow Sisters is awake inside the convent. Your breathing calms and slows once more to match your heart just as embarrassment wells inside of you, your cheeks blushing bright red for another reason entirely.

Flinging an arm over your eyes, you lay for a moment to allow your heart rate to come back down as you wrestle with the embarrassment and dirty feeling in your gut. When you can stand it no longer, you stand up and dress quickly, grabbing your rosary from the hook byv the door and hurrying across the convent. Mercifully, the hallways were empty at this time of night (or was it early morning, now?) and you manage to make it to the chapel with no interruptions.

The chapel is lit will merrily crackling candles at the foot of the statue of Jesus, and you take comfort in their warm glow as you kneel in front of him, crossing yourself on reflex. The prayers come from rote memory and soothe you with the almost melodic lilt to the words, mumbled between your numb lips. You aren’t sure how long the priest has been standing beside you, but you jump in surprise when you open your eyes and see his shoes on the stone floor beside you.

“Father! I’m sorry, I know Sisters aren’t meant to be out at this time of night.” Your fingers fidget along the beads of the rosary in a nervous dance as you watch his face, waiting for some kind of reproach.

“Sister… Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” He turns and gives you a wink, his bright green eyes nearly glowing in the candle light. “Isn’t it odd, how sensual the carvings are?” When you tilt your head towards him in confusion he elaborates, one long and gloved finger stretching forward to trace a line along the clear cut pelvic bones of the carved Jesus. “He is meant to be alluring, although he is made in the image of God. Tell me, Sister, what kind of drea brought you here this evening?”

“Dream? I—” You cut yourself off as he extends a hand towards you, taking it gratefully and pulling yourself off of the hard floor. “I didn’t have any dreams.”

“Lying is unbecoming in a young woman,” he chides, winking to throw off any of the sting behind his words. “Nothing could pull a young nun from her bed except for a particularly effective dream, you know. It seems to me as though you could benefit from confession, si? I can keep a secret.” When he tilts his head towards you again in gentle persuasion, it’s almost a relief to give in.

“Yes, Father. Thank you.” You move towards the confessional, sitting quietly in the corner like a beast in repose. The oaken door creaks as you swing it open and take your seat on the proper side, waiting for the priest to do the same. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” The words come from you quickly, but you stumble before your confession of the dream.

“Go on, Sister. He does not judge.” Something in the words strikes you as odd, but you forge forward. The grating is enough to conceal his face, but not enough to conceal his leg bouncing impatiently.

“I had a dream of the… amorous type. When I woke, I found that I was aroused.” You pause, swallowing hard. “I touched myself, and when I came, I was ashamed.”

“There is no need for shame when indulging in pleasure, Sister. Enjoyment is not a sin for sin’s sake. Is eating, then, also a sin? A slice of cherry pie with vanilla ice cream on top.... the sweetness of the cream hurts your teeth.” You wind your fingers through the grating, sliding closer on your seat as he speaks. “The curl of your tongue around the steel of the fork as the serpent curled around the tree… Are these things not meant to invoke pleasure?”

“Enjoyment isn’t a sin but—”

“Do you think the other members of the cloth do not also partake in the sins of the flesh? Do you think their faith prevents them from the feelings that humans crave?”

“Their? Not our?” The priest falls silent for a moment— a heady thing, full of unsaid words. When he speaks again his voice has fallen deeper, and the sound only serves to ignite your previously tamped down arousal.

“You pray so hard on bloody knees, Sister, and what has it gotten you? Join me in sin. Join me, and see what it can be like when you forget your standing in this world.” You give an only slightly hesitant sound of agreement and the cool stillness of the box is permeated by the sound of iron on iron as the grating in the partition slides shut. The door in the center of the confessional booth opens, swinging outward towards you.

“Father, are you sure?” you ask even as you duck through the small doorway into his side of the booth. When he shuts it heavily behind you, you whirl around to face him, a sharp gasp leaving you. In the dim lighting that’s managed to eke its way into the confessional you can see that his eyes aren’t matching at all— in fact, one of them is a bright and almost glowing white, piercing in its sudden lust.

“You may call me Papa. And I am sure.” He holds out a gloved hand to you and you take it, stepping closer into his space as his thighs part to accept you. The opposite hand trails up your side to cup your cheek, tilting your chin down towards him. “Say yes.”

A thousand thoughts run through your mind at his implication. The pleasure of the dream that had awoken you so quickly earlier in the evening, the feeling of your slickness between your thighs even now, and the feeling of your hand there, coaxing sounds that you so desperately wanted him to hear. All of the pleasure he offered, all of the sin and all of the experiences. All you had to do was just say—

“Yes.” Bolstered by your consent, Papa’s hand wraps around your waist as he tugs you down to sit on his lap, spreading your legs over one of his thighs and tucking you close against him. His lips press against the soft skin behind your ear as his other hand goes to your head dress, unpinning it with a slow ease that gives you plenty of time to deny him. When you don’t, the cloth covering flutters to the floor of the confessional, followed by the pins keeping your hair tied up.

“Tell me, Sister, what do you think about when you’re alone?” he asks, his lips moving in hot trails along your neck as his other hand caresses your side. The contact feels good, and you can’t help the soft sigh that leaves you as you lean back into his touch.

“I think about the possibility of a partner… of the possibility of having something that could fulfill me more than my own hand.” Papa’s grip on your side grows tighter as he urges your hips to move, sliding across his thigh in a sensual push and pull that already has you trembling.

“Do you want me to fulfill you?” His voice has dropped to a gravelly tone and a soft moan threatens to slide past your lips at the sound. When you nod, his other hand falls to your other side as he grips you tighter, helping you find a rhythm to your rolling. A slight jostle and bounce of his leg presses his thigh against your clit and this time, you do moan, a soft and airy sound, easily mistaken for the hushed movement of cloth against cloth.

It doesn’t escape the notice of Papa, however, and he answers with a moan in kind, his teeth grazing against your pulse point as his own hips begin to move in tandem with yours. You can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against your ass, hot and hard, and the sudden urge to feel it is almost overwhelming. As you open your mouth to speak, however, all that leaves you is another moan as one of his hands moves upward to cup at your breast.

“You feel me? How hard you make me? Per favore sorella, let me show you pleasure. Let me take you away. Let me love you,” he asks against the shell of your ear, his lips grazing it and giving you goosebumps.

“Can I see it?” you’re finally able to get out. He pauses his movements, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder with a groan and an abortive thrust of his hips at your words. You continue your motions against his thigh, your cunt clenching at the pleasure when you drag yourself across him in just the right way.

“I have been longing to hear those words, sorella,” he admits, his hands falling away from you. There’s a moment of slight confusion for you before you catch on, turning with ease and dropping to your knees in front of him, as if in prayer. But the curtain of your hair falling around your face as you lean forward leaves no doubt as to where you are and what you’re doing.

Papa watches you for a moment, soaking in the image of you on your knees for him before moving his hands to his own lap. He parts the sides of the fake priest robes, revealing a pair of black suit pants. The button and zipper are dealt with quickly enough, and his ungloved hand reaches through his pants to draw himself out. His cock is hard and flushed at the tip, longer and thinner than you thought when it was pressed against you. As you watch he strokes himself once before gripping himself at the base and tilting it towards you in invitation.

“Can I taste it, too?” Papa bites his lower lip as his head drops back at the thought, his hips rising slightly off of the seat as he shifts closer to you. When he nods you shuffle closer on your knees, your rosary bumping against Papa’s knee as you do so. He gives a wry chuckle at the sight, his hand coming up to card through your hair, guiding you to his cock gently. The first press of your tongue against his hot flesh is electric, and the taste bursts across your tongue with a salty ease as you take him into your mouth.

He lets you explore him slowly, giving you gentle encouragement when you find something he likes in particular. Your tongue courses along the thick vein on the underside of his cock and you can feel it pulsing in time with his heartbeat. When pre-cum beads at the tip, you take it into your mouth almost gratefully, humming at the new sensations and tastes. It doesn’t take long for your jaw to begin to ache, though, and Papa seems to know your limitations as he pulls you off of him gently.

“My turn to show you, si? Let Papa return the favour.” You nod and get to your feet, gasping in surprise when Papa stands swiftly and winds his arms around you. He presses his forearm against the small of your back, tucking you close to him as his lips find yours. Papa groans as he tastes himself on your tongue, his wettened cock pressing against the dark material of your habit. His other hand moves swiftly to your zipper and glides it down, helping the thick cloth down your body until it puddles on the floor. Your bra is dealt with almost as quickly, his eyes running over you appreciatively.

“Papa, I’ve never—”

“Shh, sorella. I know this. I’ll be gentle, mm?” Papa turns the two of you in a small side-stepping dance until your legs press against the priest’s chair and you take your seat. He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands working at your thighs until you’re comfortable enough to spread yourself for him. His lips press themselves in a hot path along your trembling skin, getting closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.

With a sigh, you open your legs enough for his tongue to sweep across the crotch of your panties and he groans when he makes contact, the sound vibrating through you. Papa’s hands move to the hem of your panties as he pulls them down, grinning up at you when they cling to your wetness for a moment. Once they’ve joined your habit on the floor, Papa puts a hand under your knee, hefting you leg onto his shoulder before closing his eyes and running his tongue along the soft skin to either side of your heat. When he finally makes contact with your folds, ending with a pointed tongue on your clit, you groan, your legs trembling violently as you grip the edge of the seat in a white-knuckled grasp.

“Oh, my God,” you breathe out, hissing between your teeth in quiet pleasure as he drives his tongue into you. Throughout the ordeal, his eyes stay on yours, watching you carefully for any sign of discomfort or a particular aversion to a movement. When nothing comes, he dedicates himself to the task even further, burying himself in you with gusto and moaning as he coats his chin in your slick. Finally, as the tension is beginning to rise in your gut he pulls away from you, wiping his mouth on his bicep as he looks up at you, his eyes blown with arousal as his chest heaves.

“I need you, bella… Let me show you what it feels like to be full. Take me inside of you.” This time, there’s no hesitation when you agree, standing swiftly and winding your arms around his neck. You kiss him as he had you, tasting yourself on his tongue. Once more, he turns the two of you around, sitting down on the bench and pulling you backwards onto his lap, your back pressed to his chest.

“You’ll go slow?” you ask, suddenly timid now that the moment has arrived. His cock throbs against your ass as his hips shift slightly, hands tight on your legs as he positions the two of you properly.

“As slow as you need, mia cara.” Papa’s lips press against the back of your neck and down your shoulder, hot and reassuring. At his gentle urging, you raise off of his lap just enough until the head of his cock slots against your entrance. You can feel it slip inside of you and you gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth to control your breathing. Instantly, Papa’s hands run down your spine and up your arm, comforting and grounding you. “As you need, Sister, as you need.”

“I just… sit?” you ask, feeling slightly foolish. You can feel him nod against you, his lips brushing along your shoulder as he peppers you with love bites and kisses. Biting your lower lip, you slowly sink down onto his cock, one of your hands flying outward to slam against the wall of the confessional as a sort of anchor. Still, you don’t stop, taking him inside of you in a slow drag that burns as much as it ignites a fire inside of you. Finally, you find yourself fully seated in his lap once more, his cock buried inside of you fully.

“See? As simple as that… And now, I simply…” Papa trails off, rolling his hips underneath you and pumping his cock once. You gasp, a shuddering and heavy sound, leaning back into him and bringing up one leg onto the bench. “Si, you are getting it. Such a good girl, mm?” His praise only adds to the fire in your gut, and you allow him to take control for the moment, sliding his cock in and out of you shallowly, the sound of your slickness coating him loud in the small confessional.

Before long he’s found a rhythm, holding you up slightly with one hand as he pumps into you from behind. He grunts when you join him, starting to bounce yourself off of him in counter thrusts to him, taking him deeper and faster. Papa pulls you close to him roughly, turning your head with his own and crashing your lips together, a tangle of tongue and teeth and moans and gasps. You almost complain and whine in protest when he stops, stilling his own movements and then yours.

“Wait, Sister… I want to know if… if this is what you like,” he says against your lips, breathing heavily. One arm snakes around to hold your leg while the other travels across your hips to rest above his cock, still buried inside of you. With the motion stopped, you can feel him pulsing softly inside of you as he flexes his cock. His fingers push and press against your clit, finding a sweeping rhythm that has you groaning and twitching in his arms.

“Yes, yes, I— Just like that!” His lips return to your shoulder, biting and kissing as he speeds his hand, swiping his fingers across your clit and pulsing his cock inside of you until you tip of the edge of orgasm. When you cum, it’s with a flood of gushing liquid, one hand clapped over your mouth to keep yourself quiet as you tremble in Papa’s strong arms, looking down the mess.

“Oh fuck,” Papa groans into your neck, both arms wrapping around you as he slams himself upward into you twice, finally stilling once more as he cums hard, filling you with pulse after pulse of his cock. “Never met a Sister who could… squirt on the first round,” he pants against you, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as he comes down from his own climax. The two of you take a moment to breathe and sit in each other’s arms, your heart pounding against your rib cage.

“What now?” you finally venture. The thought suddenly occurs to you that you’ve broken your vows… You can’t stay here. Before you can panic, Papa turns your head towards his and presses a soft kiss to your cheek bone.

“You come home, sorella.”

#lorraine writes #fics #ghost #the band ghost #ghost bc #papa emeritus #papa emeritus iii #terzo

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infinites-chaser · 3 years

Text

attachment theory | tears of themis | mo yi

deals with a few more serious themes but nothing too far off from the cases in game! also. suggestive ending pls avert ur eyes

vague, alluded to spoilers for mo yi's story and ch.2 of the main story :>

"not sleeping yet?"

for all its gentleness, mo yi's voice takes you by surprise-- you straighten abruptly from where you'd been hunched over a case file and there's a crunch in your neck-- you instantly regret it until the sudden pain's replaced with a gentle touch, and you're pulled back into his embrace, one hand resting warm around your waist, the other massaging circles around the tension in your neck.

"it's this case," you say, gesturing to the abandoned sheaf of papers. "it's bothering me."

his answering laugh's a tender vibration against your back.

"when do your cases not?"

"no," you reply, "this one's not hard, it just--"

"is bothering you," he finishes. you nod.

his hand slips from the back of your neck to rub gentle across your shoulder, then he leans forward to pick up the file, bringing the pages up to a level comfortable enough for the two of you to read together.

a silence passes. then,

"how nostalgic," he remarks. "a pick up artist and a jealous paramour."

you nod. it'd been a straightforward case: the client had gone through a bad breakup with their long-time partner, only to be preyed upon in her vulnerable state by a pick-up artist. when the ex-partner found out, he'd schemed against her, only for him and his plans to be foiled when she'd found out. it would've been simple for him to be charged, but his family had stepped in, had tried to argue it was all her, her and her abusive family, that she was just the same as them, that she'd been blackmailing and extorting him and they'd been relieved when she was finally gone.

you'd won the trial easily: it had hardly been a trial at all, more of a formality than anything else, but when you'd looked over at your client after the verdict, she hadn't looked happy. she hadn't looked proud.

she'd only looked miserable, sitting on the hard wooden bench, all alone.

you'd gone to her when the courtroom cleared, and she'd broken down, asked if this was all she would ever have in a relationship, if this was her fault, if all she ever did was seek out relationships with people who'd hurt her, just like her mother and father.

"is this all there is?" she'd asked. "to hope and hope for better and only be hurt more every time? I might as well not try at all anymore."

"that's not true at all," you'd replied. "i-- maybe I'm privileged to be able to say this, but I think we always have to keep trying, no matter how hard it gets. because what we want, the love we deserve-- it's worth it. it's something we'll never know if we give up now."

she'd fallen silent, after. you'd pulled her into a hug, and her fingers had dug deep into your shoulder blades, and for a long, shuddering moment, she hadn't let go.

"I wonder," you say now. "how much of us is from our parents? what do we inherit? what do we still have the power to change?"

though mo yi doesn't turn his head, you can feel his attention shift from the case files back to you.

"that woman," you continue, "she had a hard childhood. she had to raise herself. but her ex-boyfriend had caring parents. they'd do anything for him."

"you know," you say, "his mother even approached me before the trial."

"and what did she want?" he asks, voice soft.

you scoff.

"she told me she'd give me any sum of money if it meant her son's record would stay clean."

"oftentimes, parents will do anything for their children."

"she and her husband-- they love him a lot," you say. "they're good people. but--"

"but then why did he grow up like that? why did your client?"

you nod. he sits back, places the file aside, lets his fingers drum thoughtful across your back.

"humans are not so simple," he says at last. then, when you open your mouth,

"but you already know that."

you close your mouth as he laughs softly, then continues.

"psychologists used to think criminality was a gene. it's almost like some religions, if you think about it. you inherit the sins of your past life. if they did not live cleanly, then neither shall you. if your parents became criminals, then, inevitably, so would you."

"we know they're wrong now," he continues, "but isn't there some truth to that? who our parents are come to define who we are. or who we aren't. I believe in your client's and her ex's case, the latter is true."

"what do you mean?"

"your relationship with their parent when you're young shapes you. it's what each of us first learns attachment from. love, caring, connection-- it all stems from there. perhaps we look at your client's ex and his parents, and we see the love they have for him. the care. but for him, all he feels is that it's stifling. that he needs someone of his own to control."

his voice grows lower.

"perhaps, for your client, one might look at her, and how she raised herself, and find her independence admirable. but as you saw, rather than be happy with herself, rather than be proud, of surviving, of living well, despite all odds, all she finds in herself is her own loneliness."

he laughs softly. it isn't a happy sound.

"we humans," he says. "we often are trapped by circumstance, for reasons we can't control. but we often trap ourselves, too."

"we aren't like just that, though," you say. "humans can't always be defined just one way. we grow. we change. sometimes all we need is a direction, but it's never fixed-- there's always a choice. a chance for change. for becoming more."

a long silence passes.

"perhaps you're right," he says at last, voice almost wistful.

"but," he continues, "isn't that enough psychology for tonight? there's only so much information our brains can maintain without proper rest."

"rest?" you ask with a laugh, "what's that?"

"rest," he repeats, firmer. "it's nearly two in the morning. even if you feel awake right now, your body will regret it later."

you'd press him further about the sudden subject change, but something about the way his arms have gone tense around yours holds your tongue.

instead, you acknowledge his point with a nod and a sigh, and let him lead you back to lie down on the bed beside him.

you've had your eyes closed for all of a minute before he's pulled you into his arms, his head tucked warm under yours.

"to rest," he muses, "or to... relax."

"after all that talk about unhealthy attachment, what does this say about you, hm, Dr. Mo?" you chide gently. he chuckles, but doesn't let go, his breath warm at the base of your neck. you shiver. he pulls you closer.

"who can say," he murmurs as reply. "it's interesting, really. normally, I'd never think of myself as someone who gets attached. but around you--"

"around me what?" you echo.

"around you, I can't seem to help myself."

his voice is low. on another man, you'd call it almost needy, but with him, paradox, walking contradiction he is, it's a confessional. a prayer. a promise. a prediction.

"can't help yourself?" you repeat again, hoping the words don't betray the heat creeping over your cheeks. and there's a million questions you want to ask, about his parents, his past, the way he always pulls back from a conversation before you can catch a true glimpse of the inner him,

but he breathes in, breathes out. slow, langourous, savoring the moment, savoring you, and the questions quiet,

"I never can," he muses. "it's strange."

his head dips lower, the silver of his hair brushing low across your cheek.

"why you," he murmurs against the hollow of your throat. you don't dare breathe, dare move, dare think. then his lips find the curve of tender skin where neck meets collarbone and you inhale, sharp and fast, and you don't think at all.

you drown in him, his mouth on your skin, his teeth a gentle rough, his tongue teasing tender, quicksilver, lightning, lava, everything molten, leaving you breathless burning,

he surfaces between your legs, your fingers laced through his hair, turned silvered with sweat, golden gaze on yours, his hands tracing the course of your veins, your pulse racing hard and heavy under his touch.

"you," he breathes against your inner thigh, fingers ghosting gentle, ghosting higher, "you, you, a thousand times over. always you."

he presses his mouth to your skin, lets his lips skim upward, a hundred kisses in one, slow and teasing.

more than anything else, you think, we are what we choose to be. maybe there are parts of him you'll never quite know the way you want to, maybe there are certain things he can't give up, and the same goes for you. but despite his past, despite his secrets, you've always ever known one truth of mo yi, the truth of him when it comes to you.

(he chooses you, despite, despite, despite. and so do you. you choose, in the hopes of growth. of change. of something that'll last, something meaningful.)

"it's always you for me, too," you whisper, then let his lips claim yours.

#tears of themis #mo yi #kinda a warm up this was supposed to be deep but the truth is. i just like my boy leave me alone #val writes #let it be known the original title of this was mo yi brainrot #anyway. this is v. talky. i am still trYing to get a grasp of both their characters but. mo yi is a Romantic under all his Logic and ration #so Jot that down #trying on. um. some spice for taste. pls Avert ur eyes from the ending

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seanfalco · 3 years

Text

Want | Priest!Kay x Reader {Part III}

Fandom: Season of the Witch Modern!AU Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: Catholicism, Religious imagery, Angst, Infidelity (I’m also not Catholic, so hopefully I haven’t made any glaring errors.)

masterlist

Kay stood by the sanctuary doors under the pretense of greeting his parishioners, but really he was searching for one in particular.

He’d barely been able to eat or sleep since their mid-week lesson, [y/n]’s confession of feelings leaving him conflicted and distracted, barely getting this week’s sermon prepared on time. Unsure what he would even say to her when he saw her— he knew nothing he could say would make things alright, not after he’d rejected her, but that didn’t stop him from just wanting to see her.

But when her fiance and his parents walked in, [y/n] nowhere to be seen, his heart dropped to his stomach, sharp disappointment filling him til he nearly couldn’t breathe.

“No [y/n] today?” he asked as he shook the others’ hands, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

“No, she’s not feeling well today,” Matthew answered. “She’s been feeling off for several days now actually.”

“Poor dear, hopefully it’ll pass soon,” his mother murmured and Kay nodded, watching them as they took their seats, a frown twisting his lips.

What were the odds that [y/n] was actually sick and not just feigning illness to avoid him? His stomach churned at the thought, but he made his way dutifully to the altar to start Mass.

If he thought it was hard to concentrate when [y/n] was out in the congregation watching him, this was even worse, his thoughts continuously straying to what she was doing, and if she was alright.

He ended up losing his place several times and by the end of the service he felt so anxious he thought he might be ill himself. He idly thought about calling her from his office to check on her, but it wasn’t as if she’d be likely to answer, and there was no way he could just show up at her apartment — that’d be incredibly inappropriate, besides, what would he even say?

He already knew there was nothing he could say, though he wanted to.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he noticed someone enter the confessional and he sighed, heading that way.

This is your duty, get yourself under control, Kay, he told himself, opening the door to the priest’s compartment and took his seat. Through the latticed partition he couldn’t tell exactly who was on the other side, and his thoughts returned to the other day.

“I’ve been having… impure thoughts.”

He shivered at the memory, his mind wanting to chase that line of thought to speculate what sort of sinful scenarios she’d been imagining him in.

No, Kay, what is wrong with you? He thought frantically. Do not be swayed by sweet temptation.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been, uh… well, a while since my last confession.”

Matthew’s voice on the other side of the partition jerked Kay back to the present, his gut twisting with guilt at what he’d nearly allowed himself to think about the other man’s betrothed.

“Go ahead, my child,” Kay prompted, hoping the other man wouldn’t notice how strained his voice was.

“Right, okay, uhh, where to start…?” Matthew mused. He paused for a long moment as if thinking. “Well, I’ve had a lot of sex… like, a lot,” he began, and Kay’s gut twisted farther at the thought of him and [y/n] before he forcefully pushed that image from his head. “—And not just with my fiance. There’s been others, sometimes even two at once—“

Kay frowned, interrupting the other man.

“Wait, are you saying you’re been unfaithful to [y/n]?” he asked, trying to keep the sharp bite of his anger from his voice.

“Well, yeah,” Matthew replied. “I mean, as good as she in in bed, I don’t wanna be stuck having the same boring sex with one woman my whole life. In fact, this whole marriage was my parents’ idea in the first place, and if I don’t go along with it they threatened to cut me off,” he explained, Kay’s anger mounting with each word.

“Does… does [y/n] know about this?” he asked, seething, his hands balling in his dark robes.

“No, I mean, she’d flip out if she did, and then she’d bail.”

Kay couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he couldn’t even warn [y/n]— confession was sacred. What he heard in the confessional couldn’t be revealed to anyone. But the worst part about it was the irony. He’d pushed her away when she’d tried to tell him she wasn’t happy, thinking he might be breaking up a loving marriage, but it was already doomed to begin with. Of course [y/n] was unhappy.

“So… what, Father, how many Hail Mary’s do I need to do to be good?” Matthew asked, pulling Kay’s attention back to him and he scowled.

“That’s not how it works,” he countered. “To be forgiven, you must truly repent and feel sorry for what you’ve done, and vow to the best of your abilities to not give into temptation and repeat your sin,” he explained sharply. “If you have no intention of ceasing your adulterous ways then you cannot truly be forgiven.”

“Alright, alright,” Matthew relented, “I promise to the best of my abilities to avoid temptation,” he exclaimed, though it was clear by the tone of his voice that he had no intention of stopping.

In a hollow voice, Kay absolved the man of his sins and sent him on his way, unable to bring himself to leave the solitude of the confessional yet. [y/n]’s words swam in his head, guilt and desire and temptation following them, gripping him.

“I never wanted this! I still have feelings for you. They never went away!”

Who was he kidding? She was still all he’d ever wanted. And if Matthew couldn’t see just how special she was, he didn’t deserve her. [y/n] was right, he couldn’t give her what she wanted… but maybe Kay could.

“Ah shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Without another thought, lest he talk himself out of it, Kay pushed open the door and hurried back to his office, shedding his robe and grabbing his keys.

——

It was the insistent pounding at the door that roused you from your fitful slumber, and you rolled over to check the time on your phone. It looked like Mass would be over by now, but you couldn’t believe that that was Matthew at the door.

Maybe if you didn’t answer, whoever it was would give up and go away. Besides, you weren’t exactly fit to be seen at the moment—!not having bothered to shower or change for the last few days, your eyes swollen and bloodshot from crying for hours on end.

However, when the knocking persisted, growing, if possible more frantic, you reluctantly pushed yourself out of bed and threw your robe around yourself as you shambled to the door.

“I’m comin’, hold your fucking horses!” you called, peering through the peephole while your hand rested on the door knob.

When you saw who was standing outside, looking nervously around, you jerked back, your pulse instantly pounding loudly in your ears.

For a moment, you pressed your forehead to the door, trying to decide what to do.

“[y/n], please, I know you’re in there! I just want to talk,” Kay called through the door and you took a steadying breath, unlocking the deadbolt, but leaving the chain in place, pulling the door open only a crack.

“What’re you doing here, Kay?” you demanded, though you didn’t give him a chance to speak. “I think you already know why I didn’t come to church today, and if you’re here to ask me to come back to do my lessons, I’m not going. I’ll call the Parish office tomorrow and request a new teacher—“

“That’s not why I’m here!” he exclaimed hastily, cutting you off and your eyes widened. “Please, can I come in? I don’t want to speak through the door and I want — I need to talk to you!”

The desperation in his voice and the wild light in his emerald eyes made you pause. Biting your lip, you considered his plea.

“Okay, just… hold on a sec.”

Shutting the door to unlatch the chain, you wondered if you’d come to regret this, but something in his voice, in his eyes had swayed you. You’d never seen him quite so frantic before. Opening the door fully, you stepped aside so he could enter and you noticed he wasn’t wearing his white collar.

“Thank you,” he murmured as he passed and you quickly shut the door behind him, turning to face him while folding your arms defensively over your chest.

You were about to demand why he was there again when he spoke first, rendering you momentarily speechless.

“Oh, [y/n], you look awful” he exclaimed softly, worry lacing his voice as he took a step toward you, his hand reaching out.

Quickly looking away, you wiped at your already raw eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears that were once more gathering.

“Kay… what do you want?” you asked instead, hating how your voice wavered.

He sighed heavily, his eyes going to the floor for a moment before lifting once more, his thick brows drawn down over a piercing gaze.

“Do you love him?” he demanded, his question taking you off guard and you faltered.

“I… I don’t know. Why are you asking me that?”

At your answer Kay gaped at you in disbelief for a moment. “Then why are you marrying him, [y/n]?”

“I don’t know,” you replied automatically, your voice growing stronger as you continued. “I don’t really have a choice, do I? I need the stability Matthew can give me. Besides, it’s not like I have much say in the matter, my parents—“

“That’s not a good enough reason!” Kay snapped and you recoiled as if slapped, knowing in your heart he was right. “What about love? Don’t you deserve that?” he exclaimed, a wild look in his eyes you’d never seen before.

The question stung and you bit your lip to keep from trembling. “Yeah, well, maybe the man I love, I can’t have. You made that clear enough the other day,” you muttered, drawing your arms around yourself and turning away so he couldn’t see the tears that filled your eyes. “So, what does it matter anyway?”

Kay shook his head, opening his mouth to argue, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he closed the distance between you in one stride, his hands going to your face as his lips collided with yours, taking you by surprise.

As soon as his lips found yours, his hands reverently cupping your cheeks, you froze, your mind reeling and your breath catching, and before you knew what you were doing, you were kissing him back with a desperation that nearly tore you in two.

You were dreaming. You must be.

But no, he was real, and solid, and right there, kissing you like you’d imagined so many times.

Clutching at his shirt, you pulled yourself against him and his hands left your face, his arms wrapping around you, embracing you tightly and you responded in kind, slipping your arms around his neck as your lips moved against his hungrily.

Gasping a hasty breath, you didn’t pull back for long, your tongue darting out to taste him, and he moaned into your mouth as he gave in.

All too soon however, he was pulling back to look at you, his long dark curls falling into his face, and you lifted your chin, your eyes finding his. “What made you change your mind?” you asked softly, barely daring to breathe, afraid all this would be taken from you again if you questioned it.

“I...I made a mistake,” he replied uncertainly, but as he continued, the fierceness from earlier returned to his voice. “I was a fool, alright? I lied, when you asked if I still felt anything for you. I’ve been lying to myself for most of my life,” he exclaimed.

“All I’ve ever wanted was you. I never stopped loving you, [y/n],” he confessed, the ache in your heart growing. “You deserve so much more than… him,” he nearly whispered.

At his words a myriad of questions sprang to mind, all clamouring for attention — what did this mean? How was it supposed to work? You were technically still engaged. It would look rather suspicious if you and Kay were suddenly to run off together, but—

Before you could focus on any one thought for too long, Kay’s mouth was on yours once more and this kiss, if possible, was more passionate than before, your back making contact with the wall behind you with a soft thud and all those thoughts fled.

All you wanted to think about was what was happening now, in this moment, everything else could come later.

Afterall, how long had you imagined this?

“Kay,” you murmured, whining softly as he drew back, though he still held you tightly.

“[y/n],” he sighed, affection thick in his voice as he pressed his forehead to yours, his curls brushing your face. “I need to get back,” he continued reluctantly, and you whined louder.

“Stay,” you begged, not loosening your grasp on him. Part of you was afraid if you let him go, he’d disappear.

“I can’t,” he choked, as if it took all his willpower to refuse you.

“But… what happens now?” you asked, reluctantly, letting him step out of your embrace.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head as he caught his breath. All he knew was that he wanted to stay and that was his sign to go… for now. He was still a priest after all, even if his heart had given into this temptation. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised, holding your face to press a kiss to your forehead.

Watching him walk back out your door was one of the hardest things you’d ever done, but his promise echoed in your ears and you clutched to it.

We’ll figure it out.

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

Everything Tag List: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @etherealsxnder @iamsexytrash @orions-nebula @slutforrobbiebro @the-freckled-luba @xenteaart @gurlimtired @phoenixhits

#season of the witch #priest!kay x reader #priest!kay #robert sheehan character fic #my writing #fic: want #priest kink tw #catholicism tw #infidelity tw

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manifestingdestiel · 3 years

Text

Take Me To Church

(Long post, sorry!)

“Hiya, Father.” Dean moves around a bit to get comfortable and thinks about what he could ‘confess’ to in order to bait the monster they were after.

“Pardon me?” The priest is confused by being addressed informally. This was surely not one of his regular church goers. Perhaps this person was new to the faith. Father Delaney looks over and it was officer Allman from before. What sins would he confess to?

“Pardon you? I thought it was the other way around.” He chuckles at his own joke, which he does because he feel out of his element. To Dean, praying was like abasement, calling out into the void… no idea if anyone is even listening. Groveling at the universe. “Just…it’s…” He clears his throat. “So, uh, I’m here to– here to clean house. I need to get some things off my chest.” Dean hadn’t planned beforehand what he would say to the priest but he new it had to be horrid enough to bait the being who had been killing the congregation. It was all unfaithful men… promiscuous… Dean knew what he could say to get the -ghost or spectre or whatever they were dealing with here- all riled up.

Father Delaney nods and prepares himself to be patient and understanding and non-judgemental. He had no clue what Dean would confess to, but he was prepared to listen and support him. “Oh. All right. Continue.”

Dean tries to make another joke to cover up his nervousness. “I’ve never done this before, so… here goes? Gosh, if I had known these benches were so stiff I would have brought a pillow or something!” He chuckles and looks at the ground, contemplating. If this goes wrong would he end up killing himself or Sam? Dean decided to cast such thoughts away. He decided he might as well just go for whatever story he could make up to make him sound as like as much of a jerk as possible. “Um…it’s the... women, Father. Where do I begin?” He chuckles.

The Father chuckles. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” is usual.

“Right. Good. Yeah. So, uh... that, and, um… so, the women. Uh, and this is not something that I’m proud of, but I let them think that we have more of a future than we do, you know?” Dean remembers a time and reminisces for a moment. “Ah, Gina…” He smiles slightly, and then sighs.

“Gina?” Dean’s attention is brought back to the Priest. Right, he had a job to do. Might as well sell it like he did the neighborhood watch persona. He took a deep breath and looked around in the confessional to see if he could spot any peeping toms or listening ears. Dean didn’t quite feel comfortable revealing anything true about himself, especially since he knew someone would be listening.

“Well, now, don’t get me wrong. I mean, she was – it was good times. I mean, you know how it is – the sex, the lasagna – but I was not honest with her. And sometimes, I was seeing two, maybe three girls at the same time, sometimes in the same day. Haha, you get the picture. And it wasn’t just Gina. It was endless. It’s making me sick…”

Now there was some truth to that last line. His sleeping around has resulted in nothing good. Ben might have been, maybe is his son. Sam had to kill his Amazonian daughter. All it did was temporarily fill the void, just to leave it empty again. At least he felt something different. Something that wasn’t the guilt, pain, resent, and confusion that he walked with everyday. But, he wouldn’t be able to tell Sam any of this. It wasn’t because he wouldn’t understand. It was really because he had to keep up the image of invincible big brother, it was because he wouldn’t know where to begin with how to express himself. There’s so many emotions he doesn’t know how to describe, so many he suppresses… There’s so much inside of him that he feels. Some days he doesn’t think twice about it and other days it’s all he can think about. Each day it gets a little bit harder for Dean and he knows it. He doesn’t want to admit it but he knows it. Dean can’t believe he’s getting emotional with a near stranger. He blinks away a few would-be tears and takes a deep breath.

The Priest looks over at him concerned and then nods slowly. “And you wish to be forgiven, my son?”

Dean clears his throat and remembers to keep up with his performance. He has a job to do. “I do. I-I need to clean up my act…” He smiles, a transparent facade.

Father Delaney examines Dean and sees the anguish within his micro expressions. He wouldn’t pry, for sake of privacy but he did want to be sure and help Dean in any way he could. “As penance, you shall say five ‘Hail Mary’s’ two ‘Our Father’s ’, and reflect on your transgressions.”

“And then, that’s it? then I’m good to go?”

“Well… One would hope some inner exploration might occur. The prayers are just the beginning to some serious soul-searching.”

“Hmm… You done any soul searching yourself, Father?” Dean begins to wonder if perhaps he should suspect the priest.

“That, I have. I continue to do what I can, when I can. We all have our crosses to bear, agent. But it doesn’t mean we are alone. There will be peace when we are done.”

Dean is lost in thought for a moment, reliving all of the recent events, and some of the past ones. Was peace in the cards for Dean? He thought he deserved less.

Father Delaney sighs and looks ahead, thinking that perhaps if he didn’t look at him, then Dean would feel more comfortable and less like he’s being held on trial. “Is there anything else on your mind, Agent Allman?”

Dean chuckles, using laughter to mask his fear and anxiety; his weariness and his frustrations. “I don’t know…” Dean looks over at the priest and sighs. “There’s a lot of things I got on my plate… with the job, you know. It’s bloody. Messy. I have seen things that you wouldn’t believe...“ Dean looks down. “I just…”

“It’s alright, son, take your time.” He reassured Dean.

“What if I said I…I didn’t want to die…yet, you know, that I wasn’t ready?”

The Father asks a question. “Are you expecting to?”

“Always. You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it.” There’s a tense tightness in his chest as he says this. He thought that all he was worth was worth. Canon fodder. Soldier. Scapegoat. He thought he would die bloody and that would be it.

The Father noticed Dean spoke in past tense which led to another question. “But now?”

“Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. It- It’s terrifying. I mean, you know, there’s still so much I feel I have left to do. There’s things I want to do, places I want to see... There’s… people in my life I want to spend more time with….” Dean pauses for a while after that.

“Unfinished business? Well you should tell those people how you feel. Tell them you appreciate them. Tell them you love them. Lots of people regret not doing that before it was too late. And I certainly hope it’s not too late for you, my son.”

Dean nods slowly. “There’s all these new feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time…”

The priest smiles slightly. “I see…” He looks over at Dean and nods. “They…” He paused for emphasis, must be very special to you. “ Dean nods and his heart feels heavy. “Go a little deeper, perhaps… than with ‘Gina’s. Explore yourself some more.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought. I used to operate in a small little,” he glances and The Father and chuckles, “department, you could say. Same old rodeo everyday, and on Thursdays we have pie.” He smiles. “But now there’s a whole lot more out there. I learn a bit more every day. I always thought it would just be black and white, you know? Simple job. Catch the baddie, go home. But now a whole wide world has opened up, and… maybe it’s not all junk…” Dean clears his throat. “I just mean to say, that after a certain encounter a few years back, things have changed. Everything. It made me realize some things…”

Father Delaney nods. “Learning there’s more to the universe than your tiny world can be a frightening discovery. Especially when it prompts you to rediscover parts of yourself...” The Priest looks over at Dean. “Do you truly believe in God, Agent? Because that can be a comfort.”

Dean sighs. “I believe there is a God. But I’m not sure he still believes in us.” He falters, and then clears his throat.

“It’s okay to have doubts. We all have them. You just have to find your truth and what you believe for yourself. I believe we are all God’s children, Agent Allman. That there are angels above watching over us. I believe that no matter what happens, we will be where we need to be, when we need to be there. It will all work itself out. Have faith and you shall see.”

“Faith, trust and pixie dust. Got it.” Dean smiles and waits for a bit before standing. “Thanks Padre.”

Dean walks out of the confessional feeling lighter. He had forgotten he and Sam were working a job, and he shuddered. It was time to get back to work. He tucked away his vulnerability once again.

There’s a little headcanon of mine 😌 This is what happened in my version of spn, so to speak. 😁 this is what I think took Dean so long. Hope you enjoyed 😝

(Edited)

#supernatural #destiel #spn #manifest destiel #dean winchester #castiel #mishapocalypse #jenpocalypse #jensen ackles #misha collins #deancas #supernatural headcanon #spn headcanon #headcanon

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godofplumsandthunder · 4 years

Text

Man of God

Pairing: Priest!Bucky x Female!Reader

Warnings: Religion (Catholicism), SMUT 18+

A/N: This is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabbles, the prompt was submitted by the lovely @buckstaybucky and was “Father!James was innocent and never once sinned, that is until he met you.” I’m still new to writing smut and so I’m getting there but I hope that you enjoy!

Father James Barnes was proud to say he was a pious man. He rejected the way of the world, and the temptation of the adversary and focused on God, and his Holy mission. If asked, Father Barnes would brag about his ability to reject the sins of the flesh, how he was better than the common man. Father Barnes, was, a liar. The reality is that Father Barnes suffers from a trial of sin. The sin, frankly, was you. Seeing you in Mass, with those skirts you'd always wear, sparked the flames of lust in Bucky. You were the sun, and like Icarus, Bucky was flying to close to the sun.

Thankfully, you kept your distance. Only going to Mass, taking the Eucharist, and leaving. Never staying to talk, or to confess your sins. This was perfect for Father Barnes, he kept his feelings for his rather (wet) dreams. Though, things weren't going to stay like that for long.

===== You were raised in a strict and devout Catholic household. Your mother instilled in you the need to go to mass every week and confess your sins weekly. This leads you to rebel and push away from the Church. Though after your mother passed, you felt the need to go back to Church. You've succeeded in going to Mass every week, but going to the confessional was hard. Rather hard because you were hot for the Father. The priests in your Diocese growing up were all old, wrinkly men. Father Barnes on the other hand, was a young, and hot man. When he'd preach in his rolled-up black shirt, with his collar on, you... well, you had a hard time focusing on the message that was being taught. Normally your fantasies would stay within the walls of the cathedral, but lately, you've been dreaming about him, in an impure manner. Imagining his thick, callous fingers inside you, teasing you as you become wet. Or lately, you dreamed of more insidious thoughts. Like Father Barnes cumming in the Communion Cup, and offering you his "seed" to drink. You knew that these thoughts came from the Devil, and you needed to refocus your life on God, and that started with finally going to Confessions.

You finally work up the courage and decide it's time to face your beasts, even if one of them would be the man listening to your confession, but there was the vow of the confessional, right? So everything will be okay.

While you slowly made your way to the chapel, Bucky was going stir crazy. Confessions were his least favorite part of being a priest. He didn't need to listen to the same three old ladies confess their "sins" daily. And half the time they weren't even sins. In his opinion, God didn't care that they ate too much food or had an "alcohol" problem because they had two cups of wine. He'd send them on their way, with a few Our Father's and a Hail Mary. He just sent Linda Rosender, one of the old regulars, on her merry way when he heard the confessional door shut. Great, time to put on his happy priest voice.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," Bucky peers into the other side of the confessional booth and sees you on your knees, and if that isn't a sight Bucky could get used too.

"Tell me of your sins, child," you swallow down the lump that's forming in your throat.

"I'm having impure thoughts, about a man of God. I dream of him... Of him taking me. I dream of the things I'd do to him. I know it's wrong, Father, but... I lust after him." And if this doesn't get Bucky a little excited. He has a hunch you're talking about him.

"Let me ask, if this man wanted you too, would you be tempted to have him? To let him indulge in these sinful thoughts?" Bucky asks as he rubs his crotch.

You gasp, what was this Father thinking? "Yes... That's why I need help to resist these temptations, Father."

Bucky takes a deep breath. "Go to the altar, Y/N. I'm afraid that this sin requires an extreme penance." You don't know what will happen, but the Father must know what's best, so you make your way to the alter as Bucky locks the main doors of the chapel, taking off his robe.

"Now, I think the best way to clear you of this sin is to indulge yourself for a moment. Give in to the flesh, and enjoy it." You gasp as Bucky makes his way to you, pulling you into his arms.

"Lay on the altar, Y/N," he growls in your ear, and you agree, laying down on the same table that the Eucharist is served. You hear Bucky undo his belt and unzip his pants.

"You have had me thinking impure thoughts, Y/N, you know that? With all those little skirts you've been wearing," His hands snake around your waist and unzip your skirt, removing it and exposing your already wet cunt.

"Such a naughty girl, Y/N. No underwear and dripping wet for Father." He lines himself up, and inserts his thick cock, stretching you wide, giving you a good burn.

"Oh... Father, you're... you're really big." Bucky chuckles as he pushes your blouse up and removes your bra.

"Thanks, doll," Bucky groans, "God, you're so tight, like a fucking virgin," Bucky mutters, while he starts to thrust into you, one hand finding your clit, which you were surprised that a priest, a man of God, could find it that easily. He kissed your neck and mouth, attacking you with such devotion that you're left speechless, the only sound was breathy moans. Bucky starts a trail of kisses down your neck and chest until he reaches your breasts, where he takes one of your nipples his mouth, sucking at it.

"God, Y/N, I'm not going to last long," He grunts as he pounds into you, finding your g spot, making you arch your back and cry out in ecstasy. He chuckles cockily.

You feel like your skin is on fire. This whole encounter feels so wrong, being taken on an altar of God, by a man who vowed to chastity. A fire starts to spread in your loin and stomach as Bucky starts to rub your clit.

"Oh... Father, yes, yes," you moan as you arch your back and lets yourself go to the feeling of ecstasy. Bucky sucks on your neck, leaving marks, claiming you as his.

"I'm going to mark you up that everyone will know what a whore you are. But that's not a problem, is it? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" You groan as he sucks on your breast.

"Yes... I want to be yours, Father. Claim me." Bucky hums on your breast, as he sucks on your nipples. The fire within starts to spread, and you feel like your starting to combust. You feel your walls clench around Bucky's cock, as you claw at his back.

"Oh, Father!" You scream out in pleasure. The tightness is all it takes to tip Bucky over the edge. His balls tighten up, his hips stutter as he spills his load into you, filling you with his cum. You stay together for a few moments as Bucky breathes. He kisses you before pulling out.

"I think this was a good start, but I think you need more help, Y/N. I'll see you next week." He zips up his pants and helps you off the table.

"Thank you, Father. I..." you blush as Bucky cups your face.

"I know, child. I enjoyed it too."

#bucky barnes x reader #the hbc #priest!bucky #bucky smut #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #drabble

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ateezlust · 4 years

Text

Indulgence

Warnings: smut, they fuck in a confessional booth I hope no one gets offended this time 🥴🥴

A/N: it’s back hhhhh made this one for the nonny server and for you Mingi SLUTS

————————————•———————————

The church barbecue was something you’d been dreading for a while now. It wasn’t that you didn’t like going to church, most of the people there were pretty nice, albeit a little strange, but nice, and the church itself was very pretty.

Your only problem was with one specific boy. Song Mingi. He’d seemed pretty nice a few years back when you were both in youth group together, but time had corrupted him and made him less and less appealing to you.

To your parents, Mingi looked like the perfect church boy. Every Sunday he walked into church, greeting everybody with a wide smile and politely asking about their week. He always wore a blue dress shirt that he would keep the sleeves rolled up on, tucked into black dress pants.

But no one else saw the looks he’d give you while your family sat together at church. No one saw him whispering sinful words into your ear after church, looking just like polite conversation.

He was entirely corrupted, and it seemed unfortunate for you, because you’d used to think he’d be great husband material someday. Back when he was short and shy, rocking his gelled blue hair and a shirt that said “I ♥️ JESUS” on it. He was a complete dork, but adorable to you back then.

And then puberty hit him, and so did the train of corruption. He started sneaking out of church to make out with other church girls, those who were definitely not holy in the eyes of god.

Now he was tall, hot and wore a smirk on his face at all times. And he was taking an interest in you, of course. He loved nothing more than taking church girls and trying to corrupt them.

But you were standing your ground strong. Even if your parents were adamant on you accepting his dinner invitations or offers to help you with bible study at his home. You wouldn’t cave into what he wanted.

He was the reason you were dreading this church barbecue. It would just be another few hours of adults talking while the youth and children are left to their own devices, which would mean a lot of flirting from Mingi.

And maybe you weren’t entirely innocent in this situation. Your friend had told you before that Mingi came on strong to her and she rejected him and told him to stop and he did immediately, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. The thoughts of him that ran through your mind were shameful, something you would ask forgiveness for during your nightly prayers, though it didn’t seem to be working.

So now your sat at the barbecue, Mingi and his family all crowded around you and yours at a rather small table at the request of your family. Mingi was making small talk with you which seemed really nice on the surface, but if you were to get a bit closer, you would notice the smile on Mingi’s face was actually a smirk, and that the hand that seemed to be on his lap was actually on yours, sliding up and down your thighs slowly.

You kept a clenched smile on your face as he spoke, giving small remarks back as to not arouse suspicions. His hand was warm and gentle and it made everything worse. You were getting turned on, sucked into the intoxicating vortex of his mind and the path it was heading down.

After a while, most people had finished eating and were simply chatting, children running around the room and laughing and Mingi seemed to be getting restless, squirming constantly and eyes unwilling to focus.

At that moment, his hand slid a bit too high and his fingers grazed over your core. You and Mingi both gasped in unison, you from the shock, him from the feeling of the wet patch soaked through your panties.

“I’m gonna go explore” you said, which wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary for you, your family muttering out approval in return as you stood up.

As you walked away, you heard someone yell “Y/N wait!”. You tensed up, turning around and seeing your family smiling and encouraging Mingi to go ‘exploring’ with you.

As much as you would have liked to deny it, you didn’t have much of an excuse as you weren’t sure where you yourself were going. Your mind reeled, having been debating going to the confessional booth and asking forgiveness for your sinful thoughts or going to the bathroom and committing more sinful acts on yourself in the stall.

You nodded at your family’s request, faking a smile as Mingi walked alongside you. Your vision was unfocused, arousal being the only thing that consumed your mind as you made your way towards the confessional booth.

“Where are we going?” Mingi asked, signature smirk still on his face, lingering too close for comfort next to you.

“I’m going to the confessional booth to ask for forgiveness for what you’ve done. You might want to consider it,” you spat back at him, “I don’t really care what you wanna do. But that’s what I’m doing.”

Mingi let out a hum in response, still following you. You felt your vision close in on the confessional booth and your head felt like it was gonna cave in, you knew exactly why Mingi was still following you and you weren’t sure how to go about stopping him, or if you even wanted to stop him, but you kept your sights set, opening the door to the booth and peeking inside, seeing if anybody else was in there.

Once the coast was clear, you went inside, feeling Mingi’s body closing in on you closely before your own body was shoved against the wall of the booth.

It was small, a tight fit, but it was entirely intoxicating as Mingi pressed his lips against yours, causing a whimper to fall from your mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Mingi groaned against your lips, hands finally returning to your thighs, lifting up your dress and pulling it off you.

“Mingi what are we doing?” You said against his lips, panting into his mouth.

“Well I don’t know about you but I was hoping we were about to fuck in this confessional booth,” he chuckled, equally as breathless.

“Mingi this is a sin in the eyes of god, we can’t do this,” you groaned as he pulled your panties down and ghosted his fingers over your core.

Opposite to your words, your legs spread, allowing more room for Mingi as his fingers rubbed circles over your clit. You were extremely sensitive, you’d only done this to yourself once when you were younger, and that’s when you were unaware of the consequences.

“Actually, I think we can, if you want to,” you said, “maybe afterward we can ask god to turn a blind eye to us just this once, if you so wish my sweet girl.”

One of Mingi’s fingers came down to your entrance, carefully and slowly pushing in with a groan from his lips.

Your lips stayed sealed, attempting to keep in the curses that wanted so desperately to tumble from your mouth. It didn’t hurt, it was just a little strange having something inside you.

Mingi’s finger moved slowly, in and out of your entrance, kissing you softly and shushing you whenever you tensed up.

After a minute, Mingi pulled his finger out, leaving you whining into his mouth at the loss of contact until you felt two fingers around your rim.

You looked up at him nervously biting your lip, meeting his eyes. His fingers stopped moving, smiling softly down at you as his free hand came up to caress your face, “are you okay? Do you wanna stop?”

You positively melted at the contact, shaking your head no, “if you stop now I will personally use the rest of my time in this confessional booth to curse your name and pray for Jesus to send you to hell.”

Mingi snorted, laughing against your lips and leaning in to kiss you again as he pushed in two fingers. Your eyes squeezed shut. His fingers were long and felt a bit intrusive in your body, it was strange, and Mingi could sense it, pulling back again and keeping his fingers still.

“You’re doing so well for me baby, my pretty girl,” he said, thumb running along your cheek softly and waiting until you nodded to continue pushing his fingers inside you.

After a few minutes, the feelings of discomfort started to diffuse, leaving pure pleasure in its wake and causing a lewd word to spill from your lips.

“That’s my girl, pretty girl with a dirty mouth, knew you had it in you” Mingi chuckled, his fingers moving in and out of you faster than before, scissoring and stretching you well.

“Fuck Mingi, another finger, please” You whimpered, head falling back against the wall as his fingers moved. They were skilled and warm and hit every spot inside you perfectly.

Mingi pulled his fingers out a bit to slip in a third finger, making you let out a sinful gasp, rather loudly, as he began moving them again.

“Are you okay baby girl? Does it hurt?” He asked, moving slowly and cautiously as you bucked your hips up to him.

“Little bit, it’s okay just keep going,” you breathed out, leaning your head against Mingi’s shoulder and biting roughly to reduce the pain.

“Fuck,” Mingi growled, leaning into you, making his covered cock brush against your thigh, “run your nails down my back baby, mark me, show everyone I’m yours.”

You nodded into his neck, fingers pressing desperately into his back. He was broad and warm and you could feel the rumble of a growl in his throat at the contact.

“Mingi please fuck me, I’m ready please,” you moaned, fucking yourself on his fingers.

Mingi nodded and pulled his fingers out of you, quickly fumbling with his belt and pants and yanking them down along with his boxers just around his knees.

As Mingi searched his pockets quickly to pull out a condom, you snuck a peak at his cock. It was long and leaking, thick veins going down the sides. It was stained a beautiful pink colour and twitched a bit every time it rubbed against his stomach, showing every bit of how desperately he wanted you.

“Like what you see baby girl?” Mingi smirked at the embarrassed blush that crept up on your cheeks as he rolled on the condom, lining himself up with you.

“You still wanna do this baby girl? You can back out at any time, I won’t be mad, promise,” he said, making sure to keep eye contact with you to look for any form of hesitation.

“Make me fucking scream,” you said, a dark look in your eyes making Mingi’s breath hitch, nodding as he pushed in.

You could feel every vein in his cock throbbing inside you, the curve of his cock filling you perfectly.

“Fuck me,” you whined, lifting one of your legs and wrapping it around Mingi’s waist so he could get a better angle inside you.

Mingi took it upon himself to lift you up by both legs, pressing you into the wall as he pushed himself inside you entirely, gasping as he bottomed out.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he gasped, hooded eyes looking at you for a nod so he could move.

As you gave him the signal, he pulled himself out of you to the tip before pushing back in. His thrusts were slow but rough, forcing you to feel every bit of him as he thrusted.

Your nails ran over his neck and shoulders, trailing down his back, just to make him shiver and stutter for you again.

“Faster Mingi please,” you whispered, leaning in and kissing him roughly.

Mingi adjusted your position ever so slightly before his hips began moving faster. The sight of him thrusting in and out of you and the expertise of his sinful hips had you moaning, head falling back against the wall.

“So hot, fuck” Mingi said against your mouth, his hold on your hips stuttering a bit.

“Stop,” you said suddenly, squirming out of Mingi’s grip.

Mingi looked panicked to say the least, pulling out of you and looking at you with concern in his eyes. The tears of pleasure in your eyes seemed to be mistaken as sadness and regret for him, as he leaned in and wiped them away, kissing them off your cheeks and mumbling sweet compliments to you.

“Are you okay? What happened? Do you regret it? Fuck you were a virgin and I just took that from you and-” he asked as he pulled back.

“Mingi, I’m fine,” you laughed a bit, trying to lighten the mood. He looked a bit confused as you pushed him back, making him sit down on the chair in the booth, “I wanted to try riding you. Sorry, I should’ve said that first.”

The relief that washed over Mingi’s face made the tension in your body release before he spoke, “yeah, fuck of course, don’t apologize it’s okay it’s your first time, just want it to be perfect for you.”

You smiled at him and sat down on his lap, making him return the smile. You gripped onto his shoulders, lifting yourself up and then sinking down onto his cock slowly.

The angle was way better, and this way you could look down at Mingi and see the pleasured look on his face.

“Fuck, yeah that’s so good baby girl,” he said, allowing his hands to grace your hips softly, gently rubbing over them as you moved.

You took what you’d seen from the R Rated movies you’d watched before and put them to use, grinding your hips down on him and letting his cock hit every spot inside you.

Your hips stuttered and you gasped as he hit one specific spot. His signature smirk came back to his face as he spoke, “yeah, did I hit your g spot baby?”

“M-my what?” You squeaked out, body still shaking from the wave of pleasure that washed over you.

“Your g spot baby, the spot inside you that makes you feel really good and can make you squirt if I fuck you hard enough,” he said, his hips moving in time with yours to rub against your g spot and give you constant stimulation.

You nodded in response, lifting yourself up and beginning to properly ride him. It was tiring, your thighs burned, but it felt so good that you couldn’t care less.

Your hands went to Mingi’s hair, running through it gently and allowing your nails to scrape against his scalp.

Your hips moved faster as you felt heat beginning to coil in your stomach, your movements were erratic and uncontrolled, and Mingi could tell you were about to cum.

One of his hands came back down to your core, rubbing your clit quickly as he felt his own stomach coiling with heat.

“Fuck baby girl, you’re gonna make me cum, are you gonna cum all over my cock baby? Gonna be a good girl for me?” He whispered seductively in your ear as he began thrusting, meeting your hips with his own quickly.

You nodded, biting your lip. You didn’t trust yourself to not scream at the feeling as you clenched around him, feeling waves upon waves of pleasure fish through your body as you came around him.

“Fuck,” Mingi groaned loudly his cock twitching inside you as he shot his load into the condom.

As you both came down from your highs, you pulled off of him before collapsing into his chest.

He pulled you close and rubbed your back softly, rocking you back and forth as you came back down to reality.

“Are you in any pain my love? Are you okay?” He asked, pressing small kisses against any bit of skin his lips could reach.

“No I’m okay,” you mumbled, though your thoughts began running a bit. You had just had your virginity taken by Song Mingi, who had spent the past months trying to get into your pants. And now he was probably just going to get up and leave and never talk to you again. He would probably laugh about you with his friends and go find some other girl to fuck next Sunday.

“Are you sure? You don’t seem fine,” he said, his thumb running over the few tears that had escaped your eyes.

You pulled back, not meeting his eyes as you nodded and stood up from his lap.

He looked concerned to say the least, but got up as well, pulling off the condom and tying it, putting it down on the chair as he got dressed again.

You put your panties back on, sniffling softly as your mind continued reeling. You didn’t regret it, but now that you were sure you weren’t going to get anymore attention from Mingi, your heart was breaking.

You felt Mingi come up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and moving your hair out of the way to press soft kisses to your neck.

“You’re crying, why are you crying? What’s wrong my love?” He asked gently.

You shook your head, “it’s stupid. I just, I don’t want to lose you I guess?”

Your voice was quiet and soft and Mingi listened closely as you rambled a bit about how you were feeling in that moment.

He shushed you quietly and comfortingly as he heard panic rise in your voice, “hey, Y/N it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere okay? I’m sorry I went about this wrong. I should’ve asked you on a date before, so you’d know this isn’t all that I wanted.”

Your ears perked up a bit. It seemed far too cliche for Mingi to like you, as he treated you exactly how he’d treated any of his other fucks before this.

“Y/N, you’re beautiful. You have a pure and beautiful heart and I would never want to just take advantage of that, will you be my girlfriend? Or at least let me take you to dinner?” He asked, spinning you around to face him.

Your eyes were red and swollen, tear tracks down your cheeks and lip bitten to the point of swelling, but Mingi looked at you like you hung the stars and the moon for him, awaiting your response.

You smiled at him, returning his glance as you nodded, leaning up and kissing him softly on the lips, a feeling you could definitely get used to.

Mingi held your hand softly as you walked out of the confessional booth with him, meeting the frantic eyes of your family as soon as you walked out.

“Y/N!! We’ve been looking around everywhere for you we were so worried-” your mom said, stopping in her tracks as she noticed your hand holding Mingi’s.

She eyed you a bit suspiciously, a smirk on her face as she looked between you both, and though she didn’t say anything, you knew what she was thinking.

“Mom we were just discussing homework okay, get your mind out of the gutter,” you said quickly as you shook your head.

Your mom burst out laughing in response, “I know sweetie, you would never do anything like that, but we should probably get going home. Mingi your family has already left because your dad had to go to work, I told them we’d give you a lift home.”

Mingi smiled graciously and nodded in response, “that would be great, thank you.”

As you all walked out of the church, you and Mingi trailing behind your parents, Mingi discreetly disposed of the condom in a large garbage bin outside, winking at you. And if your parents had any other suspicions about you two, they didn’t say anything.

#k writes #ateez hard hours #ateez smut #ateez #song mingi #song mingi smut #mingi smut #mingi #ateez mingi smut #ateez mingi

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angelicspaceprince · 4 years

Text

Take Me To Church

Author: Ama

Title: Take Me To Church

Pairing: Zhuk/Reader

Character/s: Zhuk

Word Count: 6, 437 words

Warnings: Smut (18+ only please), cockwarming, tentacles, Priest Kink, sex in a church, Demon Priest, hypnosis, aphrodisiac, stomach bulge, double and triple penetration, sex on an altar

Prompt: You were just trying to keep to yourself and avoid the rain when no one seemed to want to help you after you are left stranded in the middle of nowhere. The thing that lives in this abandoned church seems to have other ideas.

Notes: I set out to destroy myself and managed to take some people down with me. It was.....fun. Many hours of work and putting it off, its finally done. Also. There is a part two in the works so if you want to be tagged in it....send me an ask. Translations for long pieces of Russian is at the bottom of the post in order of appearance. Enjoy.

Buy Me a Coffee

Take Me To Church

You hadn’t meant to get lost at this time of night. It was dark, it was raining, and you were just done with today. Your car broke down in the middle of nowhere, you walked for hours, getting lost and finally finding your way to a near-abandoned town and, once you found someone to actually help you, every door was slammed in your face. Rain turned into a storm, a downpour, and you just wanted somewhere to hide until the rain passed. You saw a rundown looking church when you first walked into the town, and that was only a block away. Perhaps there would do? As far as you knew, churches were open to all in need, and you were in need of not getting sick before finding a phone to call for a mechanic.

You shuffle in and move to sit on one of the pews. It was empty, cold, made of grey stone that seemed to be crumbling in places with stained glass windows, some broken and covered with increasingly dampening cardboard whilst others stayed intact. You weren’t fussy. It’ll do for now. You are dripping with the rainwater, the only sound in the entire church is your laboured breath from running and the drip, drip of water running down your hair and onto the floor. You think for a minute - is it really a good idea to be staying in these wet, cold clothes? You look around, no one else is in the church that you know of. Perhaps you should just slide your coat off.

The desire to at least see how wet your clothes were under your coat proves to be too great as you carefully slide it off and lay it beside you. Your clothes are plastered to your body, saturated from the intense weather. You sigh loudly in defeat, you just couldn’t win today.

The sound of the door opening and closing loudly followed by the gruff voice of the bar patron stirs you from your self-pitying thoughts. Fuck, you said you were going to leave and wait by your car. You couldn’t bear the idea of getting into another argument with the man. You look around for somewhere to hide, eyes flickering to the confessional. Maybe? It was certainly the closest.

You dash in, leaving your jacket behind, and close the door behind you, moving to sit on the surprisingly comfortable seat. You weren’t an expert in these sorts of things, but you thought these to be always uncomfortable and wooden, but this was almost like a cushion that went from the bottom of the seat all the way up above your head. Even if it was lumpy, it was more comfortable than the pews out there.

It was dark, and the only thing you could hear was your laboured breath and the steps of someone investigating the church. You swear he is nearby, you hold your breath and try to keep yourself silent when what you think is him brushes past the confessional.

A low, rumbling voice shocks you as he greets the bar patron, asking if he is well. You can’t quite make out the conversation, except for the newer voice reassuring the man that everything is okay, he has it sorted, and he can go home now. There is a bit more back and forth that slowly fades as the new man leads the bar patron away. You let out a small sigh of relief, sagging back slightly. Now you just have to wait for him to leave before you can get out of here. You don’t feel safe here, you need to get back to your car, weather be damned! You’d rather battle out a horrid respiratory infection than be in some weird cult sacrifice to the village’s local god, or whatever Stephen King-esque thing this town seemed to be into.

You wait quietly, trying to quiet your loud, uneven breaths as your adrenaline slowly starts to wane. Seconds before you go to leave, you feel it. Something cold, slimy, slippery curls its way around your foot. Before you even have a chance to jump or scream, the confessional screen opens, causing you to jolt and the thing to unhook from your ankle. You look down and see nothing. Perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you. But you still have a problem. The priest now knows you’re here. How were you going to explain that you were hiding from someone like a child, simply because you didn’t want to interact with them?

“Do you have anything you wish to confess?” He finally asks, his heavily accented voice giving you a small shock, having grown tired of the silence that stretches between the two of you.

You wince. “Well, actually, uh-” You trail off, and you can almost feel the amusement rolling off of him in waves.

“Or were you just hiding from Mr MacNamara?” His voice is kind, but also bemused. Even then, it’s calming and draws you in. Just something about it, something tinged within it makes you think there is something he is hiding. You shake it off, what would a priest have to hide?

“Yeah.” You say quietly, guiltily. “I’m sorry si- Father, I’ll go.” It wasn’t really polite or religiously sensitive to hide in what you believed to be a sacred place, at least to the priest.

Your hand barely leaves your side, however, when he speaks. “Never mind the reason you originally came here, my child. You are here now, there must be something you need to get off your chest. Why else would you run and hide into a church and then a confessional, unless you have a guilty conscience or something you need to speak about.” He offers softly, his voice drawing you closer and closer to him as you feel your body relax into the soft booth. You jolt. No. You shouldn’t be here. You are making a mockery of his religion, at least, you feel like you are.

“I’m not Catholic. Or religious.” You state bluntly.

“My confessional is open to all who need to clear their heart and mind.” He doesn’t sound like he’s insisting, rather that he’s just patient. Waiting for you to finally crumble and agree to confess to something. You might as well. Just to let him leave you alone.

“Where do you want me to start?” You sigh dramatically, leaning back and getting comfortable. If he wanted a confession, you were going to waste his time a little.

“Perhaps the one that is weighing you down the most.” He instructs, amusement seeping in his accented voice. What was it? Russian?

You shrug. “Lusted over a married man, that’s a pretty big sin I suppose. Would you consider it a major sin, Father?” You start with the one you are sure he will question the most and then have you move on and leave. The idea of making the priest squirm amuses you, and you’re almost tempted to state that you lusted over a man of God to see what he’d say. Alas, you decide against it. He stays silent for a second.

“Did you tempt him?”

“God yeah.” You try not to act proud. “Worked too. That’s adultery, isn’t it? Or at least, tempting someone into adultery.”

“Did you enjoy it?” He sounds slightly conflicted. Good.

You can feel your body begin to melt and relax into the pew, shifting slightly as you start to grow warm, starting from your ankles, almost like a blanket has been placed over your feet. “Mhm.” Is all you can get out. “It was. Good. We didn’t regret it. It happened a few times, but. Neither of us regretted it.”

“Did the wife know?” You shrug.

“Dunno. Don’t care, to be honest.” Silence begins to tick over you as you wait for your dismissal. But it doesn’t come.

“Anything else you wish to confess before I give you your penance?” His voice is still soft, inviting. You go to groan as he speaks again. “You’re here, you might as well use this time wisely.”

Wisely. Yeah right. Your jaw clicks, taking the challenge as you start to ‘confess’ your many sins. Missing mass, as you’ve never been to mass since after your confirmation, using contraception as every good girl does, being envious of others, having bouts of extreme anger, the times you had sex with another girl, both taking the Lord’s name in vain and being blasphemous, your slightly excessive masturbation habit, every lie you could think of, how you left religion behind a long time ago, your impressive pornography collection. Every little thing becomes pettier and pettier as you try to get him to shut you up and leave, but instead, he just keeps asking question after question, digging deeper as if trying to figure out what to add to your penance. You even stooped so low to start telling him about the time you stole chocolate from your local supermarket when you were a toddler, and every pen, eraser, piece of candy, anything from anyone as a child, be it malicious or by accident. Your eyes look firmly in the space in front of you, a dark nothingness - didn’t they have candles or something to light up this incredibly dark room? -, but better than to see his face and how schooled it must be. That would frustrate you even more. He didn’t get annoyed, or frustrated, or anything. Eventually, however, he decided he didn’t want to play your game anymore. “Y/N, look at me.”

You are so busy with your revenge that you don’t feel your body slowly growing warmer and warmer, relaxing into the soft back of the confessional seat, voice growing softer as your eyes start to close. That one command to look at him has your eyes snapping open as you turn to look him in the eye.

They were glowing.

Wait a minute.

You didn’t tell him your name.

But that’s not the thing that’s concerning you now, your eyes beginning to bulge out of your head when you take in the sight before you.

Bright amber eyes encourage you to relax for him, obey him, trust in him, which didn’t concern you at this moment. No, what concerned you were the mass amount of tentacles that seemed to be coming out of his back, covering his back wall and crawling your way into your small cubicle. You see him smirk faintly at your realisation. “Relax, Y/N. Do not worry about them, malen'kiy. Focus on my voice instead.” He instructs quietly, and it almost works. Were it not for the cold jab in your gut when you realise. Something was moving over you.

You look down and let out a loud gasp of air, your body in so much shock a scream couldn’t form. Every inch of your part of the confessional was crawling with tentacles. They filled the walls, the floor and, to your horror, was the cushion between you and the hard, uncomfortable wood of the confessional chair. “I-”

“Shhh, malyshka, don’t stress yourself. They won’t harm you.” He sounds bemused as you start to squirm, finding your movement restricted. You struggle, and something seems to squeeze you until you stop.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Like a long, black snake, one of the tentacles had slowly wound its way up your legs, waist, hips and was slowly beginning to climb its way up to your torso and shoulders. “Dorogoy, relax.” He reminds you gently, voice inviting, warm. You relax as you feel the tentacle coil around you another time, slowly, gently.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. That was enough for you. You grab the doorframe, ignoring the tentacles now moving to hold you there, and you use it as leverage to pull yourself up and out of his grasp, slime from the one grasping onto you giving you enough leeway to climb out and into the cold of the stone church, tugging back on your hands until they are freed as you land on your back, scurrying back against the rough floor. You are freezing again and, when you look down, you realise that you had been worked out of your clothes, leaving you in just your bra and panties. You move to stand and rush towards the still slightly cracked open door when the other side of the confessional opens, tentacles that were once climbing out of the door you just lept from moving back into the shadows. Your blood turns to ice as you freeze in place as his loud footsteps echo through the room.

He’s huge.

Tall, dressed in the usual black slacks and shirt with the clerical collar that you’d expect all priests to wear, he was intimidating. The scar over one of his still bright and bemused amber eyes doing nothing to settle you as what seemed like countless, black, dripping, slimy tentacles came out from behind him, all constantly moving. You swallow, unable to move or think as you look at him. He couldn’t be human, a demon perhaps? But you thought no demon could ever set foot in a church?

“Ne boysya, ne begi, moy rebenok.” He speaks softly as the tentacles start to climb the floor directly towards your feet.

It was enough to break the spell. You stand up and bolt in the opposite direction, away from the door. Surely there was a back exit? You dash and, somehow, escape every grab attempt he makes at you as he calmly, slowly, follows you. He knows this church like the back of his hand, and he knows there is no escape for you. You trip over nothing, landing flat on the floor as something twists its way up your ankle and calf. Hot adrenaline kicks in and you kick back wildly until you are free and able to make another mad dash towards the back of the church.

Nothing.

Not a door, not even a window. A set of rickety-looking stairs. You look behind you and see his shadow slowly come into the doorway, his tentacles climbing the walls, ceiling, floor, slowly. As if searching for you. Another hot pump of adrenaline hits your body as you instantly run up the stairs, yelping when one gives way under your feet. You hear his chuckle, low and dark as he stands at the bottom of the stairwell, just staring up at you as you pull yourself up to the top stair. “Don’t hurt yourself, Y/N, ya predpochitayu, chtoby moi blyuda ostavalis' tselymi i nevredimymi, poka ya ne poluchu ikh v svoi ruki.” He purrs as his ever-moving appendages stop for a split second before rushing directly towards you.

You can’t help the scream that leaves your lips as you rush past the open door and slam it shut behind you, his loud laugh echoing into the room around you as you see the black, oozy tendrils, smaller than the main tentacles but still just as scary somehow, slowly make their way under the gaps of the door, slowly covering and dissolving the wood with their goo. Fuck. You need to keep running.

Up on the upper floor, there really wasn’t anything. A little nest of coats and blankets, obviously a makeshift bed, and a broken-down organ. You look over the edge as the door starts to shake, already on awful foundations, it won’t take long for it to break down. If you could just get downstairs and hide until he went searching for you, then you can make a run for the door. Your eyes scan what you had around you, knowing that if you jumped you’d probably break your neck on impact. Then you see it. A ladder. It looks old with the wood rotting, but it will suit your needs for now.

You rush over and start climbing down the ladder quickly, hitting the ground underneath the mezzanine just in time to hear the door break. Shit. No way you could make a run for the door now, even then beforehand your chances were slim. You remain well hidden from him as you plaster your back against the wall so as he looks over the church, not an inch of you or your shadow can be seen. He takes in a deep breath through his nose as you look for a hiding spot.

“I can smell your fear, zakuska.” He purrs. “It smells delicious.” You swallow as you continue to search before realising. The altar.

You lift the piece of fabric that reaches all the way to the ground and bite back a cry of success. There is a gap there big enough for you to hide. You smuggle your way in, unseen by the demon as you curl up and try to quieten and control your breathing.

His feet land heavily on the stone floor seconds later as he apparently grows tired of your game and jumps from the upper floor. You jolt when you realise he’s landed on the other side of the altar. Just stay quiet, and wait until he’s gone. Then you can run. Your stomach feels sick with nerves as you wait and listen to the demon’s footsteps as they fill the church. You don’t realise it yet, but he is pacing around the altar, smelling your scent and knowing exactly where you are hiding.

His low chuckle sounds even more ominous as it echoes around the empty church. “You can't hide from me now, roza. I grew up in this church, I know every inch of its cold walls, every shadow, every crack, every stone. Give up now, and I may just go easy on you.” He warns. You stay still. There is no way you are giving in to him, not now. Not ever. You’ll hide until you get the opportunity to run. “No? Alright then. Just remember, little one, you chose your fate.” He sounds tired as he says this and, before you know it, the cloth is pulled back and everything on it clatters to the ground and he is right there in front of you, sharp teeth gleaming as he stares at you. “Hello there roza. It appears that I’ve caught you.” He teases. Before you can even get a chance to move, you are dragged out into the air, warm vines sliding their way around your body and hoisting you into the air as they move to support your legs, arms, torso. Even one is so considerate to support your head. Higher and higher you go, them tightening as you struggle as if to keep you steady. “I wouldn’t continue that if I were you, Y/N.” He warns. “It wouldn’t be a pleasant landing if you do.” The threat is crystal clear. You fall, he won’t be catching you.

You go deadly still and try to bite back a sob. He caught you and now he has you. Suspended in the air in just your underwear, nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. You were his.

You don’t even register the tentacle pressing against your lips until it’s made its way into your mouth, tasting salty yet strangely sweet as it pushes into your mouth and down your throat, causing you to choke slightly. It pulls back to just before where you started to gag and tear up and slowly starts to pump a thick, almost syrupy liquid, causing you to gulp out of fear of drowning in the air. For a hot second, the idea of biting down to hurt him crosses your mind, but his threat rings again in your ear. You could faintly hear the splat of you falling to your death if you did something wrong in the back of your mind. So, you continue to drink whatever it was filling your system, not noticing how your once tense muscles start to relax into the hold of the black, leaking appendages or how your face is becoming flushed, eyes glazed, body slowly beginning to warm despite the cool air. All you can feel is the throb between your legs and just how empty you feel. You whine, the sound quiet with your mouth stretched open as you start to suck, hips beginning to buck against nothing. You need to be full, you need something inside of you. You start to claw at your little clothing, even that’s too much of a barrier. You need to be full, to be touched, to be fucked. You can feel the demon’s amusement under you as he slowly starts to help, tendrils moving to tug down at your panties as others unhook and slide off your bra, leaving you bare as you continue to ride against nothing. You are already wet down to your knees, slick just dripping from your already sopping wet sex just from being given a little dose of….whatever it was he was feeding you.

You don’t even realise you’ve been lowered onto the altar until the cold marble was pressed against your skin, two large, cool hands tugging your knees apart so amber eyes could look down over you. His hair is a dark green mixed with magenta whereas before, you swore it was just green or black with a trick of the light changing its colour. What did that mean?

It didn’t matter now, all that mattered was being full. You whine pitifully as you jerk your hips up, coaxing him to at least slide a finger into you to relieve the pressure. He snickers at your desperate attempts for help before one of the thinner tentacles moves to press against your entrance, entering maybe an inch before withdrawing teasingly before finally, it pushes in slowly, confidently, until it’s pressing against your cervix. You clench around him, moaning softly as he stares down at you, the rims of his eyes slowly turning a matching magenta colour. Was he staring down at you hungrily or adoringly? Fuck it, you don’t care at this moment.

You grind up at him, babbling nonsense from your still full mouth as you try to beg for more. He tuts, taking pity on you as the tentacle inside of you begins to expand, slowly filling and stretching you out as you shudder around him. You felt so full, it felt perfect. All you needed. You rotate your hips, encouraging him to move, goddamnit, letting out a small whine as you feel him slowly pull out only to thrust back in, the movement bouncing you up the altar slightly. Fuck. You are sure nothing has ever felt so good in your entire life. It’s not long before the tentacle down your throat and the one in your pussy start to move in tandem, you being helpless to do anything but just suck and clench and cling on for dear life as you feel yourself go higher and higher, right to the very brink. Like waves crashing against a cliff, so does your orgasm in that moment, wave after wave hitting you as you cry out around the appendage in your mouth, clenching around the one inside of you as you jolt up as white-hot pleasure washes over you again and again.

Your hips twitch lazily as you feel the heat that bubbled over slowly return to its previously itching warmth. That couldn’t be the end of it, right? Surely not. You need more. More, more, more, more.

“Oh, malen'kaya zakuska,” his growl sends shivers up your spine as you feel his nails dig into your skin, leaving large crescent-shaped welts in their wake, “this is far from over.”

You whine as you start to feel the feelers inside of you start to move again, this time more roughly if at all possible. It wasn’t enough, why did you feel so empty? It’s not until you feel something small probe at your ass that you realise what you were missing. Yes.

The tendril pushes in slightly, just the tip slipping inside of you before a small gush of something hot, wet and sticky floods you. Then, slowly, almost gently, it starts to fill you, just enough that you’ll feel completely full once it’s finished. Slowly, it starts to grow and expand, thickening as it stretches you out, sating the heat inside your belly as well as making it erupt into an inferno as your blood boils, eyes rolling back as your ass joins in the brutal fucking. You barely have the energy to move, using what little energy you have left to babble out the words ‘please’ and ‘Father’ over and over, muffled with your mouth full, your arms and legs laying limp, dangling off the altar as your toes curl every time he hits a spot deep inside of you that causes electricity to course through your veins, each time a loud grunt falls from your lips, echoing in the room. You can hear his deep laugh and feel his amusement roll off of him in waves as he continues to fuck you nice and deep, everything moving almost inhumanely fast, your brain barely able to keep up.

Your body still sensitive from your last orgasm, it doesn’t take long for another to wash over you, more powerful than the last, your entire body shaking as you feel your slick slowly slide down your thighs and the ornate table under you before audibly dripping onto the floor right next to the priest’s feet. Your body tenses, it feels like you have been set on fire as your body is engulfed once again in a white-hot blaze as a hoarse scream leaves your throat, hands curling into fists before your body slowly relaxes again, feeling boneless and like you’re made of jelly, you try to catch your breath.

It still wasn’t enough.

The Father’s hands move from your hips to beside your face, caging you in against him, the look in his eyes positively feral as he takes in your fucked out frame, glazed eyes and mindless, dopey smile. He purrs as the tentacle inside your cunt slowly slips out, his grin widening when you protest weakly. “Shh, malen'kiy, I’m not through with you yet.” He growls lowly. You feel the head of his cock brush between your folds, collecting your slick as he prepares himself. He feels huge, like nothing you’ve ever had inside of you before. If you weren’t so high on endorphins and whatever he had pumped into you, you’d be frightened. But now? You crave it.

Your hips tilt upwards slightly for a bare second before slamming back against the stone of the altar. A clear invitation. Fuck me.

Slowly, he pushes inside of you, the mass of tentacles from his back beginning to slide up the sides of the altar and over your body as he does so. It feels like an eternity before he bottoms out, feeling stretched to the absolute limit, as you cry out loudly. Finally. It feels right. You feel absolutely perfect with him inside of you, the Goldilocks Zone, not too big, not too small. Just right. You could finally settle.

Unfortunately, the priest has other plans. It feels like he is waiting for you to adjust, but you feel a smaller, thinner tendril slowly wrap around his cock as he sits inside of you, slowly making it become almost ribbed in texture. At the same time, you feel something else slide into your mouth, another tentacle of the same size as the one currently occupying your throat, twirling with its twin as it does so and yet another, albeit smaller, one probe at your ass, slowly sliding into you without hesitation, ready to join in the fun. You can feel two slowly trail up your stomach and twist around your breasts once, twice, enough to squeeze them roughly as the tips open up to cover over your nipples and start sucking away gently. Finally, one more tendril, smaller than all the rest, moves to flick at your clit, causing your head to slam back as it causes a near painful jolt through your system. The priest chuckles, his hand moving to rub at the back of your head tenderly, making sure you haven’t hurt yourself before it returns to its previous position. “Ready, roza?” He asks softly, eyes watching yours for any notion of approval for him to continue.

You nod, slightly confused by his sudden gentle demeanour. His wicked smile returns, his hips rolling against yours as he groans lowly as he takes in just out tight and warm you are, in comparison to his cool body. “Fuck, malyshka, you take me so well.” He growls as you moan around the appendages stretching out your throat, the tendril around his cock dragging against your walls deliciously. Slowly, but surely, every growth out of his back moves in tandem, the ones in your ass withdrawing when his cock enters you and pushing deep inside you when he pulls out, leaving just the tip inside. Your tits being squeezed and sucked at every time the tentacles in your throat pulls back, only to relax when they advance forward again. The small one on your clit, however, never lets up. Each little flick causes you to buck up as you just try to hold on for the ride, eyes never leaving the priest’s in front of you as he stares down at you possessively, little growls leaving him every so often.

Eventually, every thrust up into you causes loud noises to leave your body, barely able to keep up you just accept what is given to you as your body tenses, ready to be taken over that abyss once more. Your mouth goes slack, drool pooling in your mouth before slowly dripping out, leaving your checks wet in its wake. Something about the sight of you amuses the Father as he laughs his low, rumbly laugh as he looks down at you. “I think I’ll keep you. Kak ugoshcheniye. My own little toy to chase down and play with and fuck. What do you think about that, moya milaya malen'kaya blyad'?” When you don’t answer with words but with a pleading whine, his grin grows to an almost unnatural size, white teeth glinting in the faint light the candles around you provide. “Oh, how could I ever give such a pretty little thing like you up?” He purrs, his face moving down to press small kisses against your neck as you turn your head to the side, baring it openly for him. Something about that he apparently approved of, as suddenly his teeth are pressing down into your skin, a barely audible ‘mine’ vibrating against your skin before he slowly starts to suck, marking you. “Oh, I am definitely going to keep you, little Y/N.” He purrs happily, his thrusts becoming harsher and faster by the second.

It takes a few more flicks of your clit, and you definitely had been right on the brink since your last orgasm, before your entire body almost seizes as the near painful experience of you coming and coming and coming around him begins. A barely-there cry rips from your throat, you only just able to piece together the Father’s loud grunt before he’s spilling inside of you, on you, marking you. You were his. In every way possible.

You don’t so much as come down from your high as slam into darkness for a few seconds as your body twitches as the sensation of overstimulation begins to wrack through you. You are barely able to piece together the sensation of everything slowly pulling out of you and being collected into the priest’s arms, a warmed, too big coat wrapped around as he starts to walk towards the front door slowly. Your ears barely hear his voice, now soft and caring, as he talks to you in a gentle, loving tone. “-ika. Settle now, I've got you.”

You faintly recognise getting into a warmed car and it taking off before you start to fidget and whine loudly. “Empty.” You complain. After what felt like hours of being, if anything, too full to quickly being completely empty? No, no you needed something inside of you.

The priest tries to shush you before a small chuckle falls from his lips when he realises all attempts will end in vain. He carefully repositions you, sliding you down his rehardened cock with ease as it becomes your time to purr, resting your head against the crook of his neck as his hands move to rub your back and sides. “Rest now, moya lyubov'.” He instructs. And it’s an easy command to obey as you fall asleep, sitting in his lap with his cock inside of you as you are driven home.

You wake up to the sensation of someone rubbing some form of oil against your skin, the sound of a heavily accented voice murmuring small praises to you as you slowly regain awareness. You hiss at the feeling of coldness between your thighs, an ice pack having been pressed up against your pussy in order to help with the inevitable swelling that was going to occur after the beating it had been given. Your eyes flutter open and instantly make contact with the concerned amber ones of Zhuk’s. “Hey.” You say, voice a little hoarse from sleep, overuse and the throat fucking it endured.

“Hello, roza.” He says with a small smile, leaning over to grab the glass of water for you as you sit up slightly in order to sip at it. You fall back to the bed with a small grunt when your arms give out.

“Thank you.” You say, your lips quirked up into a small grin.

Several months ago, the two of you had found an abandoned town a few hours away from the manor, including a crumbly, old, haunted-looking church and a very grouchy man who lived in a house on the outskirts of town, the only resident who was determined to stay there until he died. Two weeks later, after you, Bajo and Cia ended up getting a little too into the alcohol, as Zhuk carried your ass to bed, getting everything ready for the inevitable hangover in the morning, you told him about a fantasy you had since pretty much the onset of puberty.

“I want to get fucked in a church.” You stated bluntly, his lips twitching as he tries to hold back the amused look in his face. “I blame Catholic school. I spent too much time in Mass. I wanted there to be a demon priest who could fuck me brainless.” You declared. “With tentacles.” You added as an afterthought, turning to look at your husband with wide eyes. “Snuggles?”

He obliged, placing the asprin and water bottle on your bedside table before sliding into bed behind you, pulling you into his arms as you snuggled up. “What brought this confession on, moya zhena?” He asked, hand moving instantly to play with your hair as you wrap your arms around his chest.

You hummed. “The town we passed when you made the wrong turn.” You yawned, struggling to finish your sentence. “Brought it back to life because the church there looked hella haunted. Like a demon should live there.”

Zhuk went to ask more questions, but your gentle snores made it apparent that anything asked wasn’t going to be answered.

After that, plans were made. Zhuk was all too happy to fulfil your little fantasy, even going so far to offer to hypnotise you in order to make it feel more real and less like a scene. Everything was planned down to a T, with him promising to create a cheat so if you really were in distress and wished for the scene to end, the hypnosis would break and you could safeword out.

And it worked brilliantly.

Zhuk smiles as he looks down at you softly, hand moving to brush your hair back as he constantly scans your body for more bruises, more scratches, more cuts. Anything that needed attending to, and to make sure that he didn’t hurt you too badly. “Anything for you, kotenok.” He says, voice quiet as he slowly picks you up and pulls you into his arms and lap. “You did so well, took everything I had to give and were so beautiful whilst doing it.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Do you feel alright, little one?” He asks concern still very much apparent in his voice. You nod a little jerkily.

“Just tired.” You say with a fucked out grin. You feel incredible, and you wanted to ride this high for as long as possible. “Hold me?”

“Of course.”

A few seconds tick by as he moves to lay down on the bed, you in his lap as his fingers trace loose patterns on your skin. A thought was hammering his head and it was refusing to move on.

“Roza….” he starts hesitantly, knowing that under the hypnosis he gave you, anything you said had a basis of truth in it, “was I the married man you lusted over?”

You snort a small noise as your eyes flicker up to look at him, your body beginning to slowly relax as it prepares for sleep. “Duh.” You say, amusement sparkling in your eyes.

That does not help the confusion clouding Zhuk’s mind. “I married you, moya zhena.” He reminds as if you could have forgotten.

You nod as if to agree with his statement, secretly enjoying the baffled look on his face as he tries to follow your logic. “I know. I still lusted and lust over you though.” You say, grinning up at him.

His confusion leaks into amusement, a fond look taking over his face. “Y/N, I don’t think it counts if you are married to the person.” He corrects you gently, hands moving from tracing patterns on your skin to rest on your waist.

You shrug. “You never know. Could work like that. Who’s to say?” You tease him, voice playful before you yawn against his chest.

He shakes his head, moving down to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Go to sleep, moya lyubov'.”

Even if the fatigue wasn’t seeping into your bones, you wouldn’t be able to help but obey as you slowly fall into a peaceful slumber in your husband’s arms.

Translations (In Order):

Don't be scared, don't run, my child.

I prefer my meals to remain unharmed until I get my hands on them.

As a treat.

-my lovely little fucktoy?

#ama writes #fanfic #fanfiction #beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice/reader #beetlejuice x reader #zhuk #zhuk shoggoth #mafia au #oc based on beetlejuice #zhuk/reader #zhuk x reader #zhuk shoggoth x reader #zhuk shoggoth/reader #reader fanfic #interactive fanfiction #smut #very nsft

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milkkygirls · 4 years

Text

for i have sinned (priest!sam winchester.)

!lowercase intended!

summary: you can’t seem to get enough of sam in his priest outfit, so he decides to pay you back with some role-play during your alone time.

warnings: SMUT, smut, and more smut. (role-play, oral for both m & f, fingering, intercourse, dirty talk.) female reader, language.

author’s note: i’m jewish so if anything catholic in this is off i’m sorry skdnql i just love priest sam he makes me so h**ny.

“Father, I’m afraid.” You mumbled, hands clasped together tightly. The man in front of you gave an expression of worry as he used a finger to lift your chin up delicately.

“Do enlighten me. What bothers you my dear?” He breathed. His pink lips were slightly a gape, the creases of the skin not too harsh. But the thing that captivated you more than his lips, were his eyes. They were a brilliant hue of hazel, they were jovial and sparkled with mirth, telling their own story without him even having to open his mouth.

You wanted to speak, nearly letting out a whimper as you looked down, the feeling of the calloused pads of his fingers still lingering on your soft skin. You were ashamed of the thoughts you had, they were unpure, unholy, and certainly something that would damn your soul to hell if acted upon. “I-I wish I could tell, but it’s very ungodly thoughts.” The distress that dripped from your lips made a frown adorn his features, his hand resting on your shoulder in a comforting manner.

“I’ve heard it all, I assure. This confessional is to help repent for your inner angiush of sin.” He seemingly corrected.

This though, only caused your legs to squeeze together to comfort the ache between your thighs, your skirt shifting up your legs, revealing more skin. This didn’t go unnoticed by Father Winchester, either. His primal and dominating instincts bubbled in the pit of his stomach when he saw your legs.

You gathered the courage to look up at him, but adverting your gaze away from his own. “I’ve been having thoughts about a certain church member, father. I’m afraid if they keep continuing I’ll lose control of myself and do something I’ll regret.” You finally admitted, feeling a weight being lifted off your shoulders as he shifted in his seat.

you were already on you knees for him as he sat in the cushioned chair. The sight of you on your knees, talking about her dirty thoughts while begging for forgiveness made the crotch of his pants grow tighter from his length beginning to grow harder. “And whom is this church member?” He questioned, already knowing the answer.

You blushed, the warm peachy color spreading across your cheeks as you fiddled with the hem of your blouse. “Y-You..” You mumbled, looking down at your skirt. He heard you loud and clear, but he wanted you to say it again, just for the hell of it.

“What was that? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you.”

“I said: You.” You practically shouted with embarrassment, covering your face with slender fingers.

A smirk of satisfaction curled onto his lips as you did so, leaning back in the chair. “Stand up, please.”

You gulped, standing to your feet, ignoring the bits of dust that clung onto your cotton socks. Your eyes widened when he demanded you to straddle his lap with a single motion of his finger. You were hesitant, what if someone caught you? What if he was testing you? You gently slid into the chair, your legs on either side of him. The way you sat almost directly on his clothed hard on made him groan something delicious as he stared at you with pure lust now, the empathetic priest you saw earlier now shadowed by sin.

“Tell me, what is it you want me to do to you?” He divulged, a big hand resting on your hips, just under your blouse. You breathed a shaky breath and closed your eyes, the months of gathered filthy thoughts coming together. “I-I want your fingers.” You muttered nervously, dragging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Where, my dear.” He knew where you wanted them, but he couldn’t help but tease you as you were a nervous wreck. “Show me.” He demanded.

You exhaled and grabbed the hand that rested on your waist, pulling it down between your skirt to rest of your clothed clit, the dewy nature of your core almost soaking through the fabric. “Dirty girl.” He clicked his tongue, pressing a thumb into you, causing you to gasp and grab his shoulder.

“P-Please..” You sputtered, opening your eyes to stare at him. Your pupils were dialated and your round lips were parted slightly with desire, him connecting the two of you with a kiss.

He continued to rub you from outside your underwear, small mewls leaving your mouth between kisses. He slid his index finger up and down, feeling as more of your wetness pooled at the poor fabric, you were a blushing mess as he stopped.

You whined at the loss of contact and he chuckled, “Stand up.” Sam ordered and you did so, crossing your arms as you stood on shaky legs. He directed you to sit down in the chair and you did, only to immediately feel your legs get pulled apart and a hand sliding under your skirt to latch onto the hem of your panties. As he slid them down your legs to yearned for his touch, “Red is the Devil’s color, my love.” mentioned directed at the red panties before tossing them aside, pulling you forward with strong arms as he pulled your legs over his shoulder.

You tried squeezing your thighs together when he rolled up your skirt, pushing it more towards your abdomen, admiring your smooth cunt, bits of your juices spilling out passed the soft meat of your folds to glisten in the light above. You blushed, biting down on your lip again as he used an index finger to stroke you. “Beautiful..” He muttered, pulling you forward to connect his lips to your soaking core, sucking and licking at the sensitive nub.

You mewled out, arching your back against the chair and running your fingers through his brown locks, surely messing up the combed back do. He gingerly kissed at your inner thighs, making sure to kiss and lick every inch of your pussy to have you look like a drooling mess that cried out in pure euphoria. You could feel yourself pulsate in all the right places as his tongue slithered through your folds, letting you come undone on his tongue. You panted as he released contact with you, whining similarly as you did earlier.

“M-More.” You begged, your chest heaving. He smirked, bringing one of his long, slender fingers up to your entrance before dipping it into your hole, pumping in and out before adding another, curling up into you to elicit the most delicious of sounds that he could hear. “Dirty girl.. Begging for me to defile you.” He said huskily, rubbing your clit with his thumb as he pumped in and out of you. You came to a high once again, your walls clenching around his fingers as he pulled them out.

He brought his fingers up to your mouth, slipping them passed your lips and into the dewy, dark caverns of your mouth, demanding you to suck on his digits. You did so, tasting yourself. He helped you up from the chair, holding you up because of your shaky legs, only to tell you to get back on yours knees. You had had your pleasure, now it was time for him to unwind, to come undone, to not feel like a man of the lord but rather than a man of the devil.

You fingers delicately skimmed the tent of his black slacks, feeling up along his shaft, hearing deep groans at the back of his throat as you unzipped his pants, pulling them down to his ankles. You marveled at the erection that sprung free and rested on his jacket, the pre-cum surely to leave a stain on the black jacket.

You grabbed his cock like you owned it, finally holding what you longed for within your hands, feeling the veins pulsate as they begged for your touch, for your mouth to caress them. You giggled as you teased him, rubbing his pink head. “Please..” He muttered, head resting on the chair.

“What was that?” You said, pulling a reverse card on him from earlier. He was completely a your mercy now, and you were loving every second of it. “I said: Please. Please wrap those pretty little lips around me.” he begged, feeling delighted when you granted his wish. You slipped his head into your mouth, rolling your tongue over the soft flesh as your felt him tense underneath you. “You’re awfully good at that..” He muttered, releasing the moans and groans that built up in his throat as you choked him down, the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat having a profound effect on him as he writhed in the chair, grabbing a handful of your hair to bob your head on his length.

You continued to suck and lick until he released himself inside your mouth, watching as every ounce of come that had just left his shaft being swallowed by you made his dick twitch in response before he motioned for you to stand up. You did so and he pulled you ontop of him, asking with a look for your consent and you gave it. He slid into you after lining with your enterance. You were so tight, so wet. “Oh God..” You moaned, fingers gripping tightly onto his his black cover jacket as you bounced up and down on him, the angle hitting you enough to make you curse and purr.

“Don’t say the lord’s name in vain..” He panted, holding your waist as he was being buried deep inside you, feeling your walls clench around him as you both began to unwind. You chuckled through pants and rolled your eyes, leaning forward with an intent to give him a passionate kiss as you both came.

As lips moved against lips and he began to ooze out of you, you both positioned yourself normally, trying your best to catch your breaths. ��You’re really good at that, you know?” Sam said, out of character. You giggled and buried your face into his equally sweaty neck and planted kisses along the delicate skin.

“Round two?” You asked, muffled.

“Hell yeah!”

that took wayyyyyy longer than i wanted it to, but between the stress of exams and university, its a lot on my plate y’know? anyways i hope you enjoyed! :)

#supernatural #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam girl #sam winchester smut #sam winchester #spn #spn smut #spn x reader #spn fanfic

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