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farfromstrange · 4 months

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Sub!matt idea. Sensory deprivation.

It can be common as a way of control, heighten the experiance or even to help calm and sooth to blindfold your partner and make them rely on other senses. But for Matt he already has this to the extreme which can be distracting able to hear three blocks away when all he wants to focus on is you his world in this moment.

After a day of honestly tiring input he just asks for you to take over he somtimes does that wanting someone else to control him for a while and he trusts you. And trusts you enough to fuck you with his hearing either gone or reduced only able to feel, smell and taste you which is more then enough. Esspecially when you focus on the touch lavishing his body with sensory your hands never off him roaming, soothing holding. Your lips almost always on him kissing, sucking biting anything to elicit the sweet groans of him. He keeps a hand on your chest or throat not controlling but to be able to sense your rumbling groans and soft sighs feel the uptick in your heart rate as he focuses on you and only you

I am SO sorry that this took so long! And when I finally started writing it, I got carried away, so it took me two whole days to finish. But I wanted it to be good enough after I left you hanging.

On that note, your smutty thoughts make me feral!! Not gonna lie, I sat in my lecture the other day and I couldn't stop thinking about this, which is why this turned out to be over 4k words. On this page, we celebrate sub!Matt and all that comes with him!

Thank you so much for your request, and I hope I could do it justice <3

Sensory Deprivation | Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Summary: The world tends to get a bit loud, but thankfully, you're there to help Matt focus.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), sub!Matt, use of "good boy", oral m!receiving, swallowing, use of earplugs (sensory deprivation), Matt's catholic guilt, slight blasphemy, (almost) coming untouched, mention & use of safe word/action

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: I'm so horny for this man, I can't function. Also, even though I did proofread this, I'm not sure if I missed any mistakes. My brain doesn't function as well as it used to. I'm sorry in advance.

More than anyone in this world, Matt believes he has to function, always, and without exceptions. He believes that he has to be useful, always doing something and never resting. His heightened senses make it impossible for him to turn his back on even the most minuscule cases of injustice, and he still beats himself up time and time again because he can’t be everywhere at once. He hears everything, smells everything, and feels the despair in the air, but in the end, he can’t take on the weight of the world all by himself.

Ever since he met you, you have become his reprieve. You’re the haven he returns home to when everything gets just a little too much. When his senses are flooded and his heart is heavy. He crawls to you when he’s wounded, and he would crawl to you if he only had a few more minutes to live. You’re the first person he thinks of when he wakes up, and the last person he thinks of when he goes to sleep at night, preferably holding you in his arms to make sure that you won’t slip away from him. In you, he has found someone who would never judge him for who he is. Someone who will always stand by his side proudly, and someone who will hold him when he’s at his weakest. And he has been hanging off the edge of his breaking point for quite some time, holding on for dear life.

You can tell Matt must have had an awful day from the second the key turns in the lock to your shared apartment. His feet drag over the wooden floorboards as he makes his way inside. You look up from your book.

Matt takes a deep breath, dropping his bag by the door. His shoulders are tense. He folds his cane, places it aside, and removes the red glasses you’ve grown to love—but you don’t nearly love them as much as his beautiful brown eyes, the green specks so distinctive, you could recognize them anywhere.

“Rough day?” you ask.

He opens the first button of his dress shirt with shaky fingers. “Yeah. I don’t wanna talk about it,” he says.

He hasn’t said hi to you like he usually would. Tonight seems to be one of those nights again. You know Matt well enough to pick up on the subtle clues in his behavior. He’s overwhelmed, possibly even anxious, and the weight he always carries on his shoulders is threatening to crush him. He’s walking a very thin tightrope, and he’s about to fall off.

You place your book on the coffee table and straighten up. He rounds the couch you’re sitting on, his unfocused eyes searching for you. Your heartbeat resonates in his ears. Your breathing is regular. You’re calm. You’re his rock. You won’t let him drown, no matter how strong the current is that is dragging him down.

Raising your eyebrows, you look up at him when he stops right in front of you. “No hello kiss?” you dare to ask. It’s a soft question, a little teasing, but he knows you mean well.

Matt shakes his head. As soon as he breathes you in, he’s done for. His brain cells fry on the electric chair of his mind. His heart starts beating up to his throat. You’re so close yet so far away. You smell incredible; you must have showered after work, and then you sat down with your favorite tea and read your favorite book while waiting for him so you could have dinner together. You’re so considerate, you even used his scentless soap so all he would be able to smell is your natural scent. You consume him. The city moves into the background, and the bricks are about to fall off his shoulders. He’s close to collapsing, falling on his knees and begging you to take control to just make him forget, but he isn’t quite there yet.

A car honks in the distance. The night is calling for him. His hand clenches into a fist at his side while the other rests flat against his thigh.

You slowly rise from your position. “Matthew,” you breathe his name like a siren. “What do you need?”

He sniffs. His fingers twitch. He has to go out, but he can’t. You envelop him in a bubble, and it makes him feel like he isn’t alone. Like he isn’t trapped. Like he can finally let go after holding on for so long.

“Talk to me,” you say.

His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “There was so much noise,” Matt whispers back. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t focus. I’m trying to stay in control, but I can’t focus, and—” He breaks off into a shaky sigh.

You chase his eyes; they’re glossed over. You reach out to tilt his chin in your direction. His eyes flutter closed. A stray tear slips down his cheek. It’s a tear stemming from months of exhaustion, physical pain, and emotional turmoil. He tried to push through, but he’s arrived at a point of no return. He’s breaking, and you’re the only one capable of catching him.

After another deep breath, Matt’s eyes open again. “You’re here,” his voice is still barely above a whisper, but the smile that starts to grow on his lips speaks the language of relief.

“I’m always here,” you answer.

“You keep me sane.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant.”

“I also know that, but it doesn’t matter. I know how hard it is for you. If you need to be distant for a while and then blow off some steam, I’m okay with it.”

He shudders when your fingers brush his cheek. The faint bruise underneath his eye has turned green. You trace the injury with gentle fingertips.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he says.

You smile back at him, knowing he can feel it, and you guide him toward your face. “You exist,” you tell him. “That’s enough for you to deserve me.”

His nose brushes against yours, but before his lips can meet yours, he stops. He inhales your scent. He feels your pulse under his fingers from where he’s wrapped them around your wrist. Your skin feels so soft against his. He’s no longer on fire. The world is no longer on fire. He can let go. He wants to know that it’s okay to let go, but the voice in his head is telling him to stop. The crossroads he finds himself at won’t let him leave in the direction he wants to go.

You can feel his inner turmoil. He’s holding back. He always does so. You’ve been together for what feels like forever, and he still doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants. What he needs. What he deserves. You told him to be primal when he needs to be. You told him to admit when you need to take over. He never does it out of his own free will. He waits until you force him into submission.

Tonight should be the night he finally tells you. Matt needs to learn that his needs matter just as much as yours. His catholicism can go to hell for all you care.

“I need—” He swallows. “I-I need t—”

“Go ahead,” you urge him.

“Ugh,” the sound resembles a broken growl. And then, the barriers finally break. “I need you to take over,” he begs. “I need you to help me breathe again, sweetheart. Please. I need you.”

God, he sounds so wrecked.

“You want me to take control?” you ask to clarify.

He nods. “Yes.”

“Okay. Good boy. I can do that.”

Matt’s lips part in a weak whimper in response to your praise. Calling him a ‘good boy’ always has the same welcome effect. You don’t even have to look down to know that his cock is slowly swelling in his slacks.

All the blood has rushed from his head and his beautiful rosy, stubbly cheeks to his groin. It doesn’t take much to turn him on, especially not in his current state—especially not if it’s you.

Hearing him admit that he needs you like this makes you feel a myriad of emotions. You want to take care of him, you want to love him, and you want to give him a moment of peace amongst the constant chaos, but there is also something so arousingly erotic about the way he begs for you to take control that makes your thighs clench.

Often enough, he is the one taking care of you. Matt is a giver, not a taker. He always puts you first, but on some days, he just can’t bear it anymore. And you couldn’t possibly ask him to take charge in bed in his current state. It would break him. He’s a vulnerable man, whether he likes to admit it or not, and he can be as fragile as an ancient vase. You have to handle him with care on those days, which is all you intend to do as you guide him to your shared bedroom.

You gently urge him to sit down on the bed. “Do you trust me?” you ask.

His unfocused eyes flick from one side to the other. “Always,” he breathes out.

“Good. Lie back for me. I’m going to take such good care of you, I promise.”

He would never doubt that.

You climb into his lap, and finally, you kiss him. His lips part slightly in a desperate groan. Before he can slide his tongue into your mouth though, you pull away. His grabby hands are already resting on your hips, wandering, and wandering, and…

“Nuh-uh,” you tell him, taking hold of his calloused fingers and placing them on your upper thighs. “Patience, baby.”

“Please,” Matt begs. You love it when he begs. He’s completely putty in your hands. You could tell him to get on his knees and pray, and he would, no matter how blasphemous it may be.

He’s holding onto you for dear life. You place his hand against the left side of your chest, allowing him to feel your heartbeat. He isn’t leaving you cold. He never does. Alone the sight of him is enough to make your thighs clench with need, but straddling him, you can’t get the friction you need.

You reach for the nightstand to your right, opening the drawer. You know exactly what he needs. “Turn your head for me,” you murmur.

Matt follows your instructions without questioning them. Finally finding what you were looking for, you retrieve the earplugs from the bedside drawer. This isn’t the first time you have used them on him, or he has used them on you. The specific brand renders you almost entirely deaf and renders Matt’s enhanced hearing almost to an entirely normal level.

You gently put the first plug into his left ear, then the other into his right. Before you push it in though, you ask, “Do you remember our safeword?”

He nods. “Red,” he says.

“Good boy. And when you can’t speak?”

“Tap your wrist three times.” His lips curl up into a weak smile. “Usually, I’m the one asking you that.”

“Not tonight, you aren’t. May I put this in now?” You tap the earplug.

He nods again. It’s all the confirmation you need before inserting it, reducing his hearing completely. He lets out a sigh of relief. He closes his eyes, and you know he’s trying not to cry.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” you ask, cradling his cheek. His stubble scratches your fingertips, but it’s a welcome pain.

He can still hear what you’re saying, feel the vibrations in your chest from where his hand is resting, and he smells you so much clearer now that he no longer has to listen to the city screaming at him in the background. Your arousal gets stuck to the tiny hairs in his nose, and he inhales sharply. Every nerve in his body is on fire.

Matt moans. His tongue darts out, tasting the air. For a moment, he forgets that you just asked for his consent. Everything is so much more intense, yet it isn’t nearly enough.

“Matthew,” you nudge him. “Talk to me.”

“Yes,” he whispers. At least he thinks he’s whispering.

You smile, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and then you lean down to kiss him again. This time, you let him push his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, feeling you, and consuming all of you. He wants every ounce of you ingrained in his mind forever.

His hands slide under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. His focus is on you entirely. You help him take the pesky piece of fabric off, followed by his own. He’s suddenly so hot.

Your teeth clash when you kiss. His cock is hard as a rock, pressing against his lower abdomen. You can feel it between your thighs. It must be painful for him.

His kisses trail from your mouth, down your neck. He tastes the salt on your skin. Your pulse jumps as he drags his tongue over the vein. It’s a primal need. He needs to mark you. He needs to taste you, all of you, and make you his for all the world to see. An animalistic growl escapes his lips. His teeth dig into your skin. He nibbles just enough to make you moan, your chest vibrating underneath his hand. Matt doesn’t even hesitate to grab a handful of your breast, tugging at your sensitive nipple until it’s stiff enough to rival his aching cock.

You throw your head back, your jaw slack, and he uses the newfound space to kiss down to your collarbone. You’re going to be purple and bruised tomorrow, but you don’t care.

With a demanding grip on his hair that pulls at his scalp and causes him to groan against your shoulder, you push his head toward your chest. He isn’t in control, you are, and you know how much he loves to please you.

Like a man starving, he sucks your nipple into his mouth. No, it’s not just your nipple. He takes as much as he can into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub only momentarily before he moves on to the rest of your silky skin.

You moan. You have to let him know that you’re enjoying yourself. He feels the sound deep within your chest from where his hand is resting, and the way your breast moves slightly when you moan. Matt only becomes more eager when he feels and smells what he’s doing to you.

The scent of you is addicting. Your arousal smells slightly sour, sometimes slightly metallic, but most of all, it is you. And when he tastes your essence on the tip of his tongue without even licking at your slick folds because you are simply that wet, it makes him feral with this insanely primal need to have you.

He wants to spread you out before him and taste you until you’re coming all over his face. Though today, he is too weak to keep you restrained to the mattress. Matt takes what he can get, what you are willing to give him, and he does so eagerly, like the good boy that he wants to be for you.

With the world silenced, he can focus on you. The way your heart is hammering against your ribcage, right against his palm. The way your chest heaves with every labored breath you take as he sucks and sucks at your breast until your nipple is beyond swollen. He can feel how smooth your skin is, smell the remnants of your body lotion that he sometimes steals so he can smell you everywhere he goes, and the slight sheen of sweat that has started to cover your body from head to toe. And he can smell your arousal so thick in the air, his cock jumps at the mere thought of sinking into your tight walls—of being completely consumed by you, body and soul. He doesn’t need to hear right now, all he needs to do is feel you.

You know about his desperate urge to please. You know that, even while you’re in charge, he wants nothing more than to make you feel good. Matt is anything but selfish. But his selflessness doesn’t have a place in this bedroom tonight.

As crazy as his mouth on your breasts is driving you into an oblivion of pure ecstasy, your walls clenching around nothing, you find it in yourself to pull him away.

With his eyes hooded, he looks so delicious. His cock is still straining against his lower abdomen in his underwear. When you pull him away, his expression reads offense. You can’t help but snicker.

“Did you think I’d let you make this about me?” you say just loud enough for the sound to reach through the earplugs.

He exhales. “I was praying,” he says.

Praying. He is too far gone to realize. There are sides to Matt Murdock you love more than others, and when he becomes blasphemous, it does things to you. This good catholic boy turns into mush when you just touch him, and then you are his God. You’re who he wants to worship, and he would pray to you, worship at the altar of your body, and drink your essence like holy water if it meant being all over you and inside of you. And you take your position very seriously.

He trusts you. That is not a small feat. He trusts you with his body and soul, and he trusts you with the most vulnerable parts of him, be it in bed or merely a hug after a bad day. You know what he needs, and he trusts you to take care of him. He wouldn’t let just anyone do what you do to him.

“What were you praying for?” you ask him.

“You,” he whispers.

“You can have me, but first… focus.”

He told you he was losing focus because the world was far too late, so with the noise reduced, you will help him focus on something other than the world out there.

“Feel that?” You kiss his mouth, and from there, you move down to his stubbly jaw. “Focus on that. Focus on me.”

Matt sucks in another sharp breath. While one hand still rests on your chest, the other comes to rest around your neck, feeling your pulse, feeling you, and his eyes flutter closed at the feeling of your luscious lips all over him.

Your kisses trail down his neck. You pay close attention to the sensitive spot behind his ear. He moans. His hips buck upward. He’s so painfully hard, his cock has already started leaking pre-cum into his boxers.

Each scar, each indentation on his skin that reminds you of all the good he does at the expense of his health, you kiss. You trace your tongue over the healed wounds, feeling the warmth of his skin seep into yours. He’s so sensitive.

His fingers involuntarily clench around your neck, but you don’t mind. He’s not choking you, he’s simply trying to hold on. You have established a safe word for a reason, after all. He can get carried away the same way you can get carried away.

You wouldn’t dare push him too far though. Not tonight. Not when he’s already this wrecked underneath you. You purposefully leave his nipples out of the equation and move further down his body. His abs tense under your tender touch. You can’t help but smile.

And him? Matt feels like he’s floating. He can feel every kiss against his heated skin, your fingertips tracing his scars after you’ve so sensually pressed your mouth against them, and he can feel your every breath as you move downward. Every kiss leaves a series of shivers in its wake. He’s hot, yet he’s cold. He needs more, but at the same time, you are already close to driving him into overstimulation.

His balls tighten. He can’t believe that the feeling of you is enough to make him want to explode. He knows that if you touch his cock now, he might as well come right then and there. It’s so much more intense like this when he doesn’t get distracted by the world outside. You are his world, and you are all he focuses on.

You move further down until you reach his boxers. His arm is no longer long enough to keep his hand around your neck, so he moves it into your hair. It’s a silent warning, you suppose because he is close. You only kissed him, and he’s already so close to coming undone. You don’t blame him. He’s been so tense lately.

You press a kiss to his hip bone before murmuring against his milky skin, “It’s okay.”

Matt whimpers. Your words make their way into his bloodstream.

You pull his boxers down. The cold air hits his aching tip and the way his back arches makes you almost feel bad. You spit into your hand, but you make sure your palm is warm enough before you reach for his girth.

The moment you touch him, he’s done for. “Sweetheart, I can’t–” he chokes out, but you shush him by placing your lips against his tip.

You lick at the salty pre-cum. It tastes like him. You can’t deny that you missed this while he was so distant from you. This is as much for you as it is for him, that is something you can’t deny either. You’re a little selfish tonight. Just a little.

His words of protest get swallowed by a needy moan, and his fist tightens in your hair. He’s not going to last long.

Matt is not one to come early. The guilt swallows him faster than you can swallow his cum, which is why he always holds himself back. Tonight though, you won’t let him torture himself for your pleasure. You hate it when he does it.

“Ugh!” the moan comes from the depths of his chest. “Fucking–God!”

You take him into your throat as far as you can without gagging, and what you can’t take, you wrap your hand around. He’s so thick, and he’s so incredibly big—you can feel the tears forming in your eyes. But God, he is so beautiful with his head thrown back, brown eyes squeezed shut, and that little drop of sweat dripping down his temple. It’s lewd, it’s erotic, and it makes your thighs clench.

All of his reservations vanish when you take him all in. Your throat is tight, but you’re enthusiastic. Your tongue traces the vein on the underside of his cock, moving back up to the overly sensitive head. Your hands cup his balls. Every time you go down on him, Matt swears he can feel heaven reaching its hand out to him.

He grips your hair a little tighter, his other hand tangling in the sheets. He’s so close. He twitches, painfully so. And when he comes, he instinctively pulls your head upward so you won’t choke. His hot cum spurts down your throat, and you have no choice but to swallow.

You surprise both yourself and him when you fight against his hand and force yourself down far enough so that your nose brushes the base of his cock, and you gag.

Your throat is so tight and hot that it drags his orgasm on for eternity. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears. His heart is racing out of his chest as if it has somewhere to be. The fire ripples through him, the inferno turning into a dangerous explosion that tears his nerves apart, putting them back together just to tear them apart again. He feels as though the skin is falling off his very fragile bones, and his muscles collapse in on themselves.

Matt can’t breathe. When he finally manages to untangle his hands from your hair, he lies there. The blood in his ears is obnoxious. He can’t hear. He can’t see. And suddenly, he can’t even feel anymore. He doesn’t exist. Reality slips away into a moment in time. Now, he’s dying. It feels like he is dying.

You pull off his cock, catching your breath. His cum trickles down the corner of your mouth. You wipe it away. Pressing a kiss to his hip bone, you look up through your lashes. At first, he looks blissed out, but his expression quickly changes.

He can’t talk. You take his hand. “Matt,” you coax him.

Not even his chest is lifting in time to accommodate his heavy breathing. His body is shaking as every ounce of stress falls off his shoulders, and his nerves fall victim to the inferno that is still wreaking havoc inside of him.

He taps your wrist three times.

“Okay,” you murmur. You quickly climb back up his body.

“Out,” he manages to tell you, weakly pointing to the earplugs.

“Okay, baby. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You pull the earplugs out as fast as you can. Matt’s arms wrap around you, searching for a lifeline, and he pulls you against him.

“Shhh.” You cradle his head in the crook of your neck.

You hold him like this for a while. You hold him against you tightly, gently, as if he is the most fragile thing you have ever held.

Eventually, his breathing returns to normal. His heart starts to slow down. His fingertips no longer dig into your back as desperately as they have before. He’s just content now.

You press your lips to the crown of his head. “You okay?” you dare to ask.

Matt takes a moment before he nods. He leans back slightly. “Thank you,” he breathes.

“For what?”

His lips curl into a tired yet satisfied smile. “For helping me focus.”

You smile back at him. “My pleasure,” you say, and you lean down to capture his lips in a loving kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs into the kiss.

“And I love you, Matthew Michael Murdock.”

“Oh, you love me that much, huh?”

You giggle, “Shut up!” before you pull him in for another kiss.

For now, he needs to catch his breath and pick up the pieces you shattered by giving him this orgasm, but you know that once he does, it is going to be a long night for you. And you won’t be able to find it in yourself to complain. Not that you want to, anyway.

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vilsoo · 4 months

Text

୨⎯ CHAPTER THREE ⎯୧

incubus!fushiguro toji x fem!reader

꒰ ✟ ꒱ GENRE: horror, demon au, nsfw 18+, porn with plot.

꒰ ✟ ꒱ SUMMARY: Sex demons are not as provocative as you think they are. Not only do they engage in sexual acts with humans, they thrive off their flesh and haunt them in their nightmares. When an incubus disguised as a Reverend turns a hungry eye on one of the parishioners, gruesome events at the cathedral slowly unfold; blasphemy, gore, and terror...

꒰ ✟ ꒱ CHAPTER WARNINGS: blasphemy, WC: 3,955

PREVIOUS • MASTERLIST • NEXT CHAPTER

written in toji's pov, narration style similar to the Netflix show, "You." this takes place in a fictional setting; St. Reze University & Cathedral.

The morning air had become thicker than the oldest tomes of the St. Reze Clergy House.

Located in the middle of campus was the residence of the clergy along with an administrative office for the local parish. I was sent here an hour ago, deadpanning at the mahogany wooden desk and thought about everything from last night— the way we met, the brief conversation I had with Shoko… But also that screeching, unsettling noise from the stair tower which slightly concerned me.

"Fushiguro. You listening?"

Father Getou Suguru. One of the priests I'm also close with from the clergy. But aside his occupation as St. Reze’s holy priest, I'd feel comfortable drinking with him at a bar or going out to play billiards. Usually his hair would be down when he wears his vestment and cassock, but this morning it was tied back.

Suguru— I refuse to call him Father outside of the church— stood at the opposite side of the room, skimming an old book as he sips his morning tea. His office had varnished brown bookshelves and the fresh smell of brewing beverages. The sunlight tinted of a dusty orange through the large clerestory window, contrasting to the solemnity of this environment.

I cleared my throat. "Sorry. Go on."

I was too drained to listen to him this morning. I could’ve declined or not even show up to this brief rendezvous, but I didn’t want to dig myself in a deeper hole than I already am. He is, after all, the one that pays me for the shit I do. Even if I’m barely involved with the church and its people. There is no doubt that he knows about my blatant and aloof behavior the way Sister Shoko knows as well.

"Remember the other Reverend that got engaged just eight months ago? Their wedding is at the cathedral next month. Interested in helping us?"

I frowned. "Wait— who's getting married again?"

The priest deadpanned at me. "Our fellow Reverend Nanami Kento. I thought you knew this already.”

Feeling indifferent, I watch as the dark liquid swirled around my mug as I held it. "Oh. I forgot."

The priest sighed in exasperation. "I'll pay you extra if you come by and help."

I paused before I could take a sip once I registered his words, averting my gaze right at him. "Fine. I'll do it."

"Of course you would," he taunted. "Is money always going to be your motivation?"

My elbow was pressed on the table and my cheeks rested in the crest of my palm, slightly smirking at him as my drink clanks on the wood. "You know me, Suguru."

The man slaps the book closed with one hand, sliding it back into the shelves. "We'll talk more about it later with the others. Please do not forget the meeting at the chapter house next week. You have to be there.”

I notice him grabbing a few of his things including his vestment. "Leaving for sermon already?"

“I need to be early. Also, I’m leaving you in charge of the conferences in here today.”

How great.

The ominous priest finally left. I continued drinking absentmindedly for the past ten minutes and dwelled at the campus view outside. It was an early Sunday morning and the sermon was starting soon. Fridays and Saturdays are the only days I work at the cathedral, while on Sundays I'm off. Yet here I am in the clergy house when I could've been doing something more productive.

But I didn't care at all, really. This job, this religion, or the coherent idea of a god... I didn't give a damn about the shit I’m required to do in this new life as long as Father Getou paid me— just as he said he would.

I still thought about last night. What a tantalizing night, I must admit. Meeting you for the first time in such a meek state, utterly surprising me with your sullied confession... But then I recalled the unsettling noise I’ve heard from the stair tower. Though there were no screams heard or the smell of blood when Shoko and I reached the first floor, it was something so inhuman to ever think of.

Speaking of inhuman, there was still one thing you haven't known about me yet. An infernal and sinister creature, able to sense the wanton lust of humans and their coiling fantasies, residing within my soul. One that sneakily lodges into one’s nightmares to fulfill their desires… But what also resides with my soul is real mortal blood— the outcome of a half-breed incubus.

Knock knock knock.

I stared at the door for a hot minute with a blank expression, slouching in my seat. I'm usually this lifeless early in the morning, but thanks to that coffee, I managed to stand up and approach the door. But just as I was about to grab the doorknob, my hand froze when I heard a demure voice resonate from the other side. Not from a figment of my mind, not from the faded hues in my memories… It was really you— the sound of your adorning voice reverberating in the back of my mind. And it's been hours since the last time I've heard it.

"Father Getou? You in there?"

I threw away all my inhibitions and opened the door for you. And that was the first time I saw you, really saw you— not shrouded by darkness or drops of rain. The glazing sunlight cutting from the door onto your face like a scalpel, your bare skin radiating and your attire expressed more casually than what you wore last night to the church.

A small smirk slowly crept on my lips. "Father Getou's not here. Need something from him?"

"Oh," you breathed out, slowly trailing your bashful gaze to meet with mines. "I wasn't…expecting you…”

I press my shoulder against the white doorframe as my hand grips onto the opposite side like I was blocking you from coming in. "Looks like we just keep bumpin' into each other, huh. What a coincidence."

You were perfectly in my field of view, sunkissed from the golden daylight. My eyes cast over the rest of your figure, your chest heaving faster and the muscles of your shoulders tightening. This was an odd coincidence now that I think about it. There must've been an underlying reason of coming all the way out here for a conference with Father Getou. It was too bad for you that he left several minutes ago, but not too bad for me to have some company…

"Anything I can help you with?" I coaxed. “If you’re trying to meet with Father Getou, might as well just head to the church where he’s at.”

I watch as you pressed your lips together in uncertainty, your gaze falling to a random corner of the office then back to me. "You know what? It doesn't really matter who in the clergy I talk to. May I come in?"

Feeling slightly convinced, I push myself off the doorframe and make way for you. In cold calculation, I watch the way you hold your breath once you enter, the way your shoulders tensed like the beating of your heart grew erratically. My first time seeing you this nervous and so shy around me.

"So. What brings you here?"

You were standing near Father Getou's desk as I shut the door, glancing at the bookshelves and the plain ceiling absentmindedly. "I wanted to discuss about something that Father Getou might be familiar about," you respond with a sharp exhale. "But… I guess I was too late. I should’ve made an appointment.”

I make my way around the desk where Getou stood earlier as you sat down coyly. You had a dreary expression as you stared into nothing, as if you were ashamed of whatever you were going to say.

"You can tell him after the Sunday Mass," I assured, leaning against the wall with my hands shoved in my pockets.

"I— I don’t know,” you faltered. “Maybe… I think it's better if I don't tell him…”

"Damn. Must've been that bad, huh," I smirked. "Could've saved this for the confession booth, ya' know."

Just like how you confessed to me last night.

"No, no— it's fine," you faltered, your gaze flickering back to my face. "I’m fine talking about this to anyone from the clergy. You’re a Reverend, right? Maybe we should talk more while we have the chance. Get to know each other.”

Get to know each other, huh.

It was something about your face glinting from the gentle sunlight that nearly captivated me. Maybe early Sunday mornings weren't so bad, after all. But after ruminating over your words and this igniting spark of interest I have with a human, especially a woman like you— a man like me would never go this far to give my considerations…

An incubus is meant to prey on women like you. Obsess over them, violate them, make them feel things no other human could do. But I’m not like these sick and twisted incubi. Not even a full incubus. There would be these ongoing battles of cunning, dark, and sinister thoughts and actions within my conscience. I'd feel tempted to ruin and corrupt people for my own satisfaction. But then I also have my humanity— the respect, boundaries, morals, and all of the shit I also abide by.

You left me with no choice. The cause of my sleeplessness and these constant distractions sitting right before me. Definitely harmless just to know more about a woman like you, right?

"Alright then,” I obliged. “You’re a student at St. Reze, right?"

"I am. Third year, graduating with a bachelor’s next year."

I squinted slightly. "How come I've never seen you before?"

"I was gonna ask you that, too," you chuckled. "But maybe because it was my first time attending on a Saturday."

I nodded slowly, recalling your words from your confessional. "I work on Fridays and Saturdays only. Makes sense."

"Something was just really bothering me. I felt like attending that day, so..."

I ambled closer, standing at the opposite end of the table from you. Half-lidded eyes staring meekly into mines, setting fire in my ribs and wading into my rufous flesh, strumming every fiber in my body like I was trapped in your aura. Ominous and tense anticipation between us, right in this office, right at this moment.

I've never felt something like this before. And you probably haven't, either. This hidden desire for you and your hidden desire for me has never tasted this fine, like a restless hunger teasing my tongue…

"I don’t think I've ever gotten your name. I'm Y/N."

I repeated your name in my mind, a name I for sure wasn’t going to forget. "Toji,” I then replied. “Reverend Toji Fushiguro."

"Reverend Toji,” you mused, as if you were ruminating upon my name as well. “Nice to officially meet you.”

I really tried fighting the urge to bring up your confession. But according to the clergy-penitent privilege that Suguru informed me about, they are to remain strictly confidential. Any member of the clergy that overhears a confession are bound by this “seal.” But with everything I’ve witnessed and collected from last night at church, I wanted to ask the most ludicrous questions. I wanted to know what was going on in that pretty little head of yours. Why you came all the way here to the clergy office, what exactly is bothering you to the point you open up to me. Like cracking open your skull and spooling your brain, finding out all your sinister and dark secrets…

My jaw tightened as apart of me begged to know, staring at the bay window overlooking the courtyard and other facilities of the campus. But I decided to not intervene— who am I to care about a mere human, anyways?

"So. You said something was bothering you?” I piqued, refilling my cup of coffee with the machine. “Is that why you came all the way here?”

If I hadn't been paying attention to every move and every reaction you made in this office, I wouldn't have noticed the way your chest heaved slowly and steadily, like you were forcing yourself to calm down. I watched the way your body reacted. A trail of goosebumps. Slight shivers. Robbed of speech. And the way your eyes subtly began to pool with dismay, powerful as a surging storm taking over you…

“Well, this might sound a little bit, uh… carnal, Reverend Toji,” you muttered sheepishly. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, or— you know, see me as a parishioner in a different way…”

"You don't need to worry about that," I assured with a small smirk. "I'm not like Father Getou who's so professional with everything here— especially with that seminary shit. So don’t think I’m gonna lecture you with scripture.”

You chuckled lightly. “Spoken like a true layman. That’s harsh.”

"Yeah, but it's the truth." The warm liquid rushed down my throat as I drank, absorbed with this sudden rush of energy. "I don't really care about this church nor your god. I'm just working here for money— so you can tell me anything."

You gazed down solely at your lap, absorbed in your own thoughts as if this was too difficult to open up about. Your eyes were unreadable from this distance, but every time you locked my gaze for a few moments, they become so irresistible as they take me in.

"Look, I don't know if I'm ready to say it.”

"Enlighten me." I set another drink of coffee for you on the desk, the loud thud of the mug causing your body to snap. “Whatever you say, I’m not gonna hold against you. You came all the way out here this time in the morning, so don’t let this be a waste of time for the both of us.”

A human like you testing my patience was a risky game to play. But for some reason, I was a bit amused by your timid submission… Your chin tilting upwards as you looked at me in silence as I leaned against the bookshelves. Your skin continued to gleam right in my view, eyes taking me in like you were drinking the very sight of me.

After a fleeting moment of hesitance, you grab the cup and sipped carefully, watching your shoulders tense down from the warmth rushing through your veins. I stared for another long moment, both hands on the table and leaning slightly forward. It was quite entertaining, really, how things lead us to this point.

"Friday night I had a dream," you muttered softly, "I couldn't stop thinking about it, which is why I came to the church on Saturday night, seeking for guidance. But this dream was, well… a strange experience for me.”

The moment you spoke of having a dream I immediately knew. Even after finding out you came to church on a day you don't regularly attend was enough to convince me. Carnal. Nightmares. It all made sense. In the vulnerable depths of an innocent human’s mind, a disturbing creature would be quietly lurking, waiting until all is calm when the darkness shrouds over the daylight skies. This darkness incarnate springs to life as a vicious, fang-bearing, gnarly, feral incubus. Born to linger on the fragile edges of your mental state and drawing you in with its sapphire eyes…

The muscles of my jaw tightened as I clenched my teeth together in cold silence. I've learned and witnessed the vile ways of how dreams go with demons like me, and how the aftermath will always remain dreadful for humans to recount. Terrorized by such unfathomable sexual nightmares and disturbing hypnotic states of scintillating salacious lust, night after night…

“… I was in a dark place. I see some kind of shrine with wide teeth, horns on the roof and many skulls laying around. Then I look up and see this creature— he had four arms and four eyes…”

Your gaze suddenly falls back to me again, this time not directly settled on my face, but I can feel the way you trace my features— sharpened, tensed, deliberately making out every outline of me. I couldn't help but fall speechless, embracing this erratic tension going on from between.

“The things he did to me in that dream, Reverend Toji… It was literally sin. Promiscuous to ever think of, really. I'm really ashamed to say this here, but— for some reason it felt... good. If it's so wrong to think of or do, then why did it feel good?"

I notice the way your voice was honeyed with titillation as you explained, hinting with passion. It amused me— how you found a nightmare so pleasant to you. I suddenly thought of our communion from the night before, how you kneeled before me with a heated look in your eyes— salacious and delirious— indulging in submission just like your nightmare.

I wanted to know what demon snuck in your nightmare. Four eyes? Four arms? A diabolic creature I've never even heard of before. I had to suppress a lot of my thoughts back, trying my best to remain nonchalant.

"A nightmare, huh. It’s not uncommon for students here to confess about this," I prompted. “There’s a whole case study on how it’s affecting them, but you… You said it felt good?”

"I— I did," you mumbled, voice almost shaky. "And I don't know what to do— I feel that my lustful craving has ruined my relationship with God.”

After divulging to me with another abashed confession, I was rather fascinated than concerned. How you took pleasure in a fucking night terror was something I’ve never expected to come from those pretty, saccharine lips of yours. It almost enraged me— how could a human like you entice me like this? I’m supposed to do my job. I’m supposed to follow Suguru’s commands. I’m not supposed to form a relationship with any of the students here. But this was a rippling covet that makes my blood rush with urgency, an urgency to dwell in the sinister parts of me. And I can sense how desperate you feel— that covet you find so sinful, so disgraceful to your god— when in reality it isn't.

"Your desire for lust should never make you feel guilty, Y/N," I coaxed. "After all, didn't your god create us as sexual creatures? It was never deemed a sin; only taught to be one for young women like you."

This time I was speaking my mind. How I really viewed the church that condemns malicious creatures like me. All the years of false and inaccurate teachings, mistranslations, and every concept that never appeals to me. I could go on about it all day, but I suppressed my thoughts back once again.

"I've prayed and prayed that day, Reverend. But yet, I can’t stop dwelling on it. It was a very filthy dream, I admit. But it felt so… intense.”

A nightmare, I mentally corrected. Any dream with an incubus involving sexual and immoral acts are considered nightmares.

I take the opportunity to let my gaze glide over your skin. "I understand how you feel," I feigned, nearly lying to myself that I had to take another sip of my drink. "That covet you find so sinful, so disgraceful to your god— when in reality it isn't. Whoever propagated that purity culture bullshit are the disgraceful ones instead."

Your body fell stiff as the realization hit like a brick to your face, contemplating over my words. "Hm. I think I can see now why you're not so fond of the church,” you bantered, taking another sip of the coffee. “You’re more brutal than Father Geto. He’s there to console and sympathize with his parishioners, but you— You’re very, uh… passive aggressive.”

I scoffed. “That’s harsh.”

“Well, it’s kinda true,” you chuckled. “I mean, we can’t always have our reverends and ministers here console us by just spiritual enlightenment and scripture. It was nice hearing your advice coming from a different perspective. So I thank you, Reverend Toji.”

I agreed. But at the same time, I didn’t care. “Just call me Toji. But just not in front of other people and Father Geto, you know.”

"Speaking of Father Geto…" My heart jolted faster once you shot up from your seat and walked over in front of me, my skin growing hotter as your body drew closer to mines. So close as if you were invading me, but I allowed it— the gap between us growing thin, feeling our body heat fuel and ignite. I was tempted to trace your flesh, uncover the goosebumps lingering on your skin, and take you on right here on this fucking desk…

What the Hell am I thinking? Why am I being invaded with these kind of thoughts?

"… Please don't tell him about our conference and that I met with you," you continued with a low mutter. "It'll be our little secret."

I slanted my head. Our little secret?

Something crept in the grip of my numb hand, hearing the rough folds of paper crumpling. I peer down and notice your fingers gently grazing mines, feeling your warmth and tenderness as you slipped some cash.

"Are you serious?" I whisper. "You know I can't take this."

"No, Toji. It's fine," you beamed. "After lecturing me like that— I really think you are a good man. Doesn't matter who you are or how you view the church."

I clenched the cash in my grip, not realizing how clammy my palms grew. I was already at a loss of words from this strange, erratic feeling in me right now. Slipping money in my hand as you invaded my personal space, breathing in your darling aroma, your irises dancing with the room's fast-changing glow. You then look at my lips. I look at yours. There's a pause.

You slightly inched forward, my entire body falling frozen as you pressed your lips against my cheek. Immediately I was immersed with this sudden softness and sweetness, like laying on a bed made of clouds, plush and impulsive. Warming my bones, melting my center. My heart beat rising, but also trying to soothe.

"’Till next time, Toji," you murmured, your fleeting breath hitting my ear until you turned away and left.

What did you just do to me?

I wouldn’t say your kiss of gratitude on my face was a violation. But though I had no idea where it stemmed from, it felt… pleasant. Perhaps I was somewhat successful playing the role of a Reverend who’s not really in touch with humanity, but tries to just for the sake of understanding people. I just don’t know how to feel from a tender moment that came from nowhere. I was too astonished to register it through my brain— the intimate touch of a human.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. I've studied every line and every form of your figure, the shape of you and the aching in your glinting eyes. How you starve me with those fucking eyes. How I wanted to see all of you right here, right in this office, right on Father Suguru’s desk— gliding across your body with a wicked purpose. There was no way to fight your embrace. I would’ve allowed Suguru to fucking exorsice me for wanting to feed off your forbidden sexual desire. And I was too selfish to let that lame demon in your nightmare feed off it. Not even any man you encounter here could fulfill you the way I plan to.

Only me.

TAGS: @suget @haezen @heavenlyevil @vampnyx @killzenin @diorsbrando @endurablerose @slut-manifesto @screampied

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO/POISEUNS © 2024. originally published April 10, 2021. do not steal, plagiarize, or translate without permission. do not repost or share any of my works where minors have access. art by evok99 on twitter.

#ཐི♰ཋྀ ⋆ 𝐆𝐎𝐃’𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄. ๋࣭ 𖤐 #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji x you #toji smut #reverend toji fushiguro #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #fushiguro toji

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dark-frosted-heart · 4 days

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When the Holy Beast Falls - Azel

An “If you were lovers” story. As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

If Prince Azel and I were lovers…

Sometimes the Living God of Tanzanite would visit the befriended nation Benitoite.

On those occasions, he’d always have me go with him.

I’d never hear something cute like “I’ll miss you” from the two-faced god who apparently brought me along just to push me around.

But I know his true intentions.

Emma: Prince Azel, I’m back.

Azel: You’re late.

Emma: I brought everything you asked me to buy since you can’t go into town, so please forgive me.

Azel: That’s not the issue.

Prince Azel, who waited by the entrance, took the packages from me.

However, it didn’t seem like he was considering the packages and studied me.

Emma: …Are you hurt?

Azel: You can see I’m not.

Emma: Then what is it?

Azel: You’ve kept me waiting because you’ve been having fun in town.

Emma: H-how did you know? Is this God’s power—

Azel: It’s all over your face.

(I guess I was grinning)

At my honest confession, Prince Azel pinched my cheek.

Azel: You got some nerve. I’ve been waiting for you to come back—

Emma: You’ve been waiting? For me?

Azel: …Don’t get the wrong idea. I asked you to get something for me.

Emma: That’s too bad. I thought if you were waiting for me, I’d rush back the next time.

Azel: Hurry back even if I’m not waiting. That’s a debtor’s responsibility. I’ll add this late fee to your debt.

Emma: Is that okay? The more debt you add, the more you won’t be able to let me go.

Azel: …You’re getting defiant.

(You’re so awkward, truly)

With a grim look on his face, Prince Azel turned his back on me and placed items he had me get on the table.

He went to check its contents, but his hand immediately stopped.

Azel: Emma…What is this?

Emma: It’s cute, isn’t it? I made a stop along the way to buy it.

Prince Azel held Benitoite’s popular “Living God doll” in his trembling hands.

It was a small doll in Prince Azel’s likeness that was said to bring many blessings, including luck with money, love, health, etc.

(It took me a while to buy it since there as a line)

Before he could throw it against the wall, I snatched the doll from Prince Azel’s hands and held it dearly.

Emma: I bought this separately from the money you gave me. I’m not giving it to you.

Azel: Get rid of things that aren’t wanted or needed.

Emma: I refuse. He’s cute, isn’t he?

Azel: Cute?! I think you mean repulsive.

I moved the doll out of Prince Azel’s reach as he tried to steal it back and stepped away from him.

Emma: Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.

Azel: No one’s telling you to take care of it. I'm telling you to throw it away.

Emma: Throw away my beloved Prince Azel? I could never.

Azel [polite]: …I see, I see. Even with the real God present, you chose the doll and casted me aside. How cruel…This is a slight toward God. This blasphemy deserves divine punishment.

(Ah—)

Prince Azel deliberately covered his face with his hands and began sobbing.

I knew it was a trap, but it hurt my conscience to ignore him.

Emma: That’s not it. However, with this doll, I can be with Prince Azel even when I’m out running errands. It’s my way of showing how much I love you.

The instant I approached the god to butter him up, Prince Azel stopped his crocodile tears, took the doll from me, and tossed it into some corner of the room.

Emma: Ah! That’s cruel—Mn?!

My eyes widened when he stopped my protest with a kiss.

Azel: Who’s the cruel one here? Cheater.

Emma: …Even though it’s a puppet of you.

Azel: If you want my blessings so much, I’ll give it to you. You’ll have to deal with it.

A large hand grabbed my chin and our lips met again.

The kisses of a holy, unrelated god were always so greedy, greedily exploring deep inside that it made you feel like you were going to fall.

(Why is every kiss so lewd…)

Even when I nipped his lip to tell him he was going too far, the two-faced god didn’t stop and instead started tickling my ear.

Emma: Mm…Mmm!

Azel: Don’t need the doll anymore? That’s wonderful.

Emma: Wro…ah

The fingers that were tickling my ear slid down my neck and under the collar of my blouse.

I hastily grabbed the hand that was going to defile me and looked into his mysterious, starry eyes.

Emma: I can’t return to my room anymore, can I?

Azel [polite]: A message from God. You should not be alone tonight for there are bad omens.

Emma: …A lot of good things happened in town though?

Azel [polite]: It will happen, and it will surely be a misfortune.

Emma: Specifically…

Azel [polite]: Divination is an ambiguous thing. You won’t know until it happens.

Emma: Then let’s test out if Prince Azel’s divination is really correct.

Azel: Why would you do that? Are you stupid?

He cupped my cheeks and squished them.

Emma: Because lately, you’ve been saying the same thing. That when I’m alone, misfortune, bad luck, or a disaster will happen to me… So I thought I’d try it out just once.

Azel: Being fearless isn’t good. God’s words are absolute, so you must heed His warnings.

Emma: I get it Prince Azel. You just really want us to be together, don’t you?

Azel: ……I didn’t say that.

(You’re so easy to read)

Azel: I don’t care if you’re here or not. I prefer being alone.

Emma: Then—

When I tried to shake his hands off and turn away, he hugged me tight.

Azel: You don’t believe in God’s good will?

Emma: You just need to be honest and say that you want me with you.

Azel: Aren’t you the one that wants to be with me?

Emma: If I’m the only one that wants this, then I’ll only bother you so I’ll head back to my room—

Azel: Try to go back if you can.

(Ugh…He’s so strong that I can’t shake him off!)

Even after saying all this, Prince Azel still won’t admit it.

But when I turned to look at him, we kissed for a short moment.

Azel: Ah…

It seemed like he didn’t mean to and his brows furrowed.

(He never wants to admit it, but…)

Emma: You truly do love me, Prince Azel.

Azel: Don’t be so conceited.

A blush spread across his grim face.

(...God’s blessing was real)

(Because it’s possible to make Prince Azel look like this)

With a dramatic sigh, Prince Azel rested his forehead on my shoulder.

Azel: What am I even doing?

Emma: It's love.

Azel: No. I’m in no way in love with you. Damn it…

(There’s still a long way to go, but I’ll definitely get it out of him one day)

(An “I love you” from Prince Azel)

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #azel radwan #ikepri azel

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another-lost-mc · 1 year

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Temptation scares you, and you decide it's better to move on and forget - if Michael will let you.

Penance | MICHAEL x gn!Reader 2.1k words | NSFW | Mutual Obsession | Smut Content Warnings: Obsessive thoughts, feelings of guilt and shame, power imbalance, mind games, marking, suggestive themes and sexual content. A/N: This is the sequel to Blasphemy.

Things changed after you spoke to Michael.

You happily indulged in your insatiable curiosity to learn more about him, and you imagined what it would be like to have him touch you. You never felt guilty thinking about him before.

You didn't feel guilty because you didn’t think he knew about those things. His call was a rude awakening. Perhaps he knew all along, and it's mortifying to think about.

You didn’t sleep well that night, or the next several nights after. A few days after your little chat, you stare at the listing in your call history - UNKNOWN NUMBER - and finally gather the courage to call him back. There’s no response. The line rings and rings and rings, until you can’t stand it anymore and hang up.

You haven’t heard from him since. Was he toying with you, teasing you to make you feel shame for what you’ve done?

Sometimes you wonder if you imagined the entire conversation in some sort of dream. You’re not sure what to think or feel about him now, but you can’t linger in this mental no man’s land forever.

Maybe it’s best to put aside your guilt and your uncertainties. You don’t understand what happened between you and Michael, so you decide to reimagine the truth instead.

You didn’t have some weird, pining crush on the archangel you’ve never met.

He didn’t know you were touching yourself to thoughts of him and what you wanted to do with him, or for him, or have him do to you.

He didn’t call you and tease you with that deep, rough voice that promised something sinful as punishment if you continued to tempt him this way.

You tell yourself none of those things happened, and you try to move on.

You stop reading the chat history with Michael that you took from Luke and Simeon’s phones.

You stop asking your demon friends questions about Michael, or the Celestial Realm, or anything else that reminds you of him.

You stop thinking about Michael when you touch yourself at night. The act becomes almost clinical now, simply a way to relieve stress. It’s not long before you stop touching yourself altogether - you have no idea who might be watching.

You convince yourself things are better this way. It’s not like you knew Michael, so you can't really miss him. You distract yourself and focus on your life in the Devildom and the friends you’ve met, and you tell yourself that you don’t need more than this. You’re no longer greedy for things you can’t have, and you're not desperate for things that you shouldn’t want.

Even though you try to forget what happened, you have a sense of dreadful suspicion that Michael won’t let you.

There’s no way you can explain the strange dreams you start having about laying on a bed of golden feathers and a pair of eyes you’ve never seen, but you know whose they are, stare into yours.

There’s no way you can explain the feeling that someone is watching you when you’re alone, or the way your skin crawls when you’re by yourself. You feel trapped like prey no matter where you are or where you go.

There’s no way you can explain the way your body tingles sometimes, like you’ve been touched by some sort of strange magic. You clench your eyes shut and resist the urge to whimper his name, because you almost feel compelled to say it.

You can’t explain the warm breath you feel across the back of your neck as someone chuckles quietly into your ear, mocking your futile attempts to ignore him.

You feel like you’re losing your mind and you know it’s his fault. You’re trying to be a better person. Isn’t that what you should do? Isn’t that what he should want too?

It feels like this is your punishment. At first, you think it’s punishment for thinking sinful thoughts and praying for sinful acts with the archangel himself. The alternative explanation is even more confusing to consider: what if this is punishment for trying to forget him?

You’re exhausted and go to bed early one night. Your bedding feels hot and scratchy against your skin, and even after you kick it aside, you still can’t get comfortable. You throw your arm over your eyes and groan. You just want to sleep, is that asking too much?

There’s a strange chill against your skin all of a sudden. You reach to pull the blankets back over you, but you realize they’re gone. Your bed is gone.

You sit up and stare all around you. You’re no longer in your room, but inside some strange, grey space. You can’t call it a room because it seems to go on endlessly.

It’s only when you raise yourself to your knees that you realize you’re not alone. There’s something behind you - or someone - and it tugs at a memory you’ve tried to bury. You cover your face in your hands and shake your head.

This can’t be happening, this isn’t real, this can’t be happening—

“My lost little lamb,” a deep , familiar voice coos in your ear. He settles behind you, and you can feel his warmth at your back. Something soft brushes against your sides and wraps loosely around your front. His wings.

“You’re not real,” you whimper weakly into your hands. Your voice is muffled but you don’t care; you know the archangel conjured by your dreams understands you.

“I know humans aren’t very patient creatures, but I’m surprised how quickly you moved on,” he murmurs quietly as his hands settle on your waist and pull you back against him. It feels like he’s trying to comfort you. It’s confusing.

“I felt ashamed,” you admit truthfully, and it’s the first time you’ve uttered any words of remorse out loud.

Michael clicks his tongue. “I’m very busy, but perhaps I should have come to you sooner. I may have been…irritated when I realized you tried to forget about me. I won't make that mistake again.” He nuzzles against your jaw and it tickles. He chuckles when you shiver. “You’re more fetching than I remember.”

His hands grope your waist a bit more before they slowly slide up your sides and slip underneath your night shirt. His hands feel hot against your skin, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him over your shoulder. You can’t.

“Are you flirting with me?” you ask, and your voice sounds incredulous rather than angry.

“Perhaps I am,” he says coyly, and you gasp when his lips brush against your neck.

You swallow thickly and shake your head, even as his hands climb higher over your belly and dance along the groove of your ribs. “We shouldn’t do this,” and it’s the last feeble protest you make before your resistance crumbles. Your actions betray your words because he nudges you to raise your arms, and you obey; he slips your shirt up and over your head. You don’t feel cold for long because his hands continue exploring your bare chest, and his feathers hold you against him so his body radiates heat to you.

“But this is only a dream, remember?” The words almost sound bitter, but you’re distracted as one of his hands slides back down to your waist and tugs playfully at the waistband of your sleep pants. “There’s no judgment here. I’ll give you what you ask, if you're brave enough to tell me what you want.”

He speaks the words so softly, but there’s an undercurrent of power in them that has you arching against his chest and leaning into his touch. You can’t lie to yourself anymore, and he’s never doubted your truth. “I want you.”

It’s like a tether snaps when he’s given permission to lose control, and you cry out when his hand dips into your pants and finds the evidence of your arousal between your legs. His fingers are relentless as he strokes you, and it feels like you’re drowning in heat and pleasure and sin.

You can feel him grow hard against your back, but he's focused solely on you. He whispers filthy praise against your skin and encourages you to move with his touch, to enjoy his mercy and revel in the ecstasy he gives you. You haven't touched yourself in so long, and it’s impossible to last like this. He touches you so perfectly, but you bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning his name. It feels like you’re clinging to your last shred of dignity, and you shouldn’t even care about that in a dream, but giving in feels like it's too much to bear—

The only warning you get before he bites you is the rumbling groan reverberating in his chest. His mouth clamps down on your shoulder and you choke on a scream as he licks at the indents his teeth left behind.

“Don’t be shy now, little lamb,” he scolds you, panting against your neck like he’s the one being fondled by an angel. “All those nights I watched you, I learned what you like. Only I know how to give you what you crave. Don’t you think I deserve a reward too?” He licks at your earlobe and kisses your jaw. “Give it to me,” he demands in that powerful timbre that you’re powerless to resist.

You know what he wants, and you want to please him. His name falls from your lips in a pathetic whimper. He smiles against your skin and moves his hand against you, faster than before, as your reward. White-hot pleasure surges through your veins when he strokes you, and you're desperate for something to cling to. Your arms reach blindly for him, and he hums his approval at your desire to touch him.

Your fingers ding into one of the thighs bracketing your own, and the other finds purchase in his hair. You tug harder than you mean to, and his hips surge forward as a moan rips from his throat. He makes stuttering, aborted thrusts against your back like he's struggling to maintain his composure.

He's breathing heavily, and he grunts when your hips grind back against him. His evident desire for you is your undoing. You fall apart and coat his hand with your release; your broken cry sounds suspiciously like his name. His fingers coax you through the aftershocks, and he holds you while you ride out the last waves of pleasure. He finally pulls his hand away when you squirm from the sensitivity.

You tremble in his arms and he holds you tighter than he did before. “What about you?” you ask hoarsely. You can still feel how hard he is, and you're surprised he's asked for so little from you - you probably would've given him anything.

He’s oblivious to the sweat beading against your temple - or he doesn’t care - when he presses a kiss there and sighs wearily. “Next time,” he whispers.

You turn your head to try and glance at him over your shoulder, no longer afraid of him, but he stops you. His hand cradles the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss before you can see him properly.

“Sleep now, little lamb,” he murmurs against your lips—

You wake up with a gasp and thrash wildly until you realize you’re in the warm, soft comfort of your bed. You take gulping breaths and try to control your erratic heartbeat.

What the hell was that?

When you wiggle your hips, you feel the slightest bit of heat pool deep within your belly. Your pajama pants feel damp, and you realize the inside of your thighs are sticky.

It’s not the first time you woke up like this after dreaming of the archangel, even if it has been a while, so you think nothing of it. You feel sluggish and exhausted, and it takes a couple of minutes for you to gather enough strength to sit up. You dangle your legs over the edge of the bed and stretch your arms, but a burning pain in your shoulder makes you wince.

An icy feeling grips your heart, and you stand on shaky legs and walk over to your vanity. You pull down the collar of your shirt and stare at the ring of teeth-shaped bruises in the mirror. You brush your fingers over the marks, and you swallow thickly as his murmured promise echoes in your mind.

Next time.

#series: divine revelations #obey me michael #obey me michael x reader #michael x reader #obey me michael smut #obey me smut #omswd smut #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me michael x mc #michael x mc #obey me michael x you #michael x you #obey me fanfic #x reader #someone dropped this 🚩#gn!reader

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doormatty3 · 6 months

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Dirty Little Nun (Patrick Wilson x Reader)

Masterlist AO3

Summary:

[Patrick Wilson x Female Reader] [Patrick Wilson x You] Interviewing people is your job, you’ve done it for years now - and successfully so, if you may add. What’s not part of your job description, however, is dressing up to conduct said interviews. So when you find yourself wearing a nun costume and enough makeup on your face that no one will recognize you, you are beyond pissed. But the demonic facade may have been a blessing in disguise when you meet Patrick Wilson who keeps flirting shamelessly with you when you are supposed to be asking him questions. All your professionalism is cast aside as soon as he calls you a “dirty little nun” and when he’s leaning against the doorframe of your dressing room after you’ve wrapped up the interview you know that you'll not be leaving the studio anytime soon. OR: Patrick gets on his knees and makes you worship a different type of god.

Wordcount: 11,068

Warnings: 18+, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, masturbation, semi-public sex, breeding, desk sex, blasphemy, improper use of religious symbols, dirty thoughts

A/N: This is based on that Valak interview.

You know that this is probably a stupid idea, dressing up in a The Nun costume for the Conjuring 2 interview you were hosting.

When you said it jokingly in a meeting the production team was all for it, praising you for the good idea that would surely increase the views of the video when it was uploaded on YouTube and entertain your guests. Their support of your stupid idea had caught you completely off guard but you were stuck with it now. At least, they had the decency to buy you a proper costume and facepaint. You would have put up a fight if they had forced you to spend your own hard-earned money on that.

So now you are stuck in your dressing room, painting your face with the makeup you were given. You had put on the costume beforehand, to avoid any smudging of the makeup that would have happened when you would have eventually pulled it over your head.

Fuck , you actually wanted to conduct these interviews when you first heard of it. The guests, James Wan and Patrick Wilson are people you find interesting workwise. It would have been fun to chat with them and get some insights on the movie. Maybe secure a photo.

Guess that’s not happening now.

You sigh, blowing the air out of your lungs as you paint the depth of your eyesockets black.

“10 minutes!” The loud voice of your production manager outside of your dressing room and his knocking on the door pulls you out of your thoughts.

10 minutes until you had to be outside.

10 minutes until you had to face your coworkers and your interview guests.

10 minutes until you were going to make a fool of yourself.

You look into the mirror and staring back at you is the nun: The white face paint with the black accents around your eyes and mouth is spot on, while the yellow contact lenses make your eyes look demonic. You had actually done a good job.

I still look ridiculous… but at least they will not be able to recognize me outside, you think to yourself.

With a groan, you grab the upside-down cross necklace and the headpiece and put both on, making sure that it covers your up-done hair.

A last look in the mirror confirms that you are good to go and you make your way to the door, ready to face your first guest of today - James Wan, the movie’s director.

—---------------------------

“You’re terrifying! Dear lord”, James screams out upon first seeing you step into view in the interview booth.

The small man shies away from your hand that is stretched out in an attempt to greet him. You would be lying if you claimed that you weren't pleased with that reaction - you are absolutely delighted. He didn't laugh at you as you had feared at first but is rather genuinely caught off guard and finds it scary.

You smooth out your costume before taking a seat opposite of him. He is still eyeing you warily, taking in your form - you have made a lasting impression so far.

Well, that is a surprise. Let’s see how far we can take this.

You feel rather proud and decide then that you would definitely continue playing that role and try to scare him.

“Hello, nice to meet you”, you officially greet him while speaking with a lower voice than you normally would, the grin permanently etched on your face. You are trying to make it sound a bit demonic to play into the role you are currently portraying.

“Nice to meet you as well”, James sits back again looking skeptically at you, “I think…”

You nod, you are still making him uncomfortable and you like it. Against what you had originally believed this is fun.

“How are you doing?”

“I am okay… Madam, mister…mister madam”, he is flustered and shy, unsure of what to call you. You haven't given him a name and seeing his reaction you decide that this will stay this way. So you just laugh, making him gulp.

“I am having a hard time looking at you and giving a straight answer”, he confesses.

Well, the interview will certainly be fun if you are able to throw him off that badly. It is ironic, you think, that the guy who directs spine-chilling horror movies is such a scaredy cat.

You vow to use that to your advantage and prepare yourself to really kick off the interview now and ask proper questions. While further leaning into your role.

Your conversation is over in what feels like minutes, you are becoming more comfortable with your role as the nun and are enjoying it immensely. You were able to fluster him throughout the interview, utilizing his fear against him.

But apart from that he was a pleasant interview guest, happy to answer questions if you didn't throw him off his game while having genuine fun talking about his work. He made talking to him easy.

“Thank you very much, it was awesome”, you say to him beaming in your normal voice again as you get up. Your work here is done.

“No thank you! And take care”, James replies, more at ease now that the interview is over and you don't try to intimidate him anymore.

With a wave you leave the room, making your way down the corridor towards the bathroom.

That went unexpectedly well.

Against your initial fear and hesitation, this whole nun costume thing seems to pay off. At least it is different from what people normally encounter in interviews.

You have a good few minutes between talks and you want to check on your costume to see if everything is still in place. After stepping into the small room you go straight to the toilet and after finishing up you look yourself over in the mirror - yellow eyes and white face with black details.

Everything is still fine and nun-like looking. So you just wash your hands and leave the bathroom again in a hurry to return to the interview booth.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You hear laughter when you enter the room.

Patrick Wilson is already sitting in the chair with his back towards you, talking adamantly with the crew in the room.

That gives you the chance to look him over quickly: He has short, thick brown hair with the sides shorter than the top of his head. An olive green bomber jacket accentuates his broad physique with strong shoulders and big arms. He is nice to look at from behind you are sure that he looks even better from the front.

You nod at your coworker. It is the signal that you want to start the interview and get the camera officially rolling and the sound captured. After your talk with James, you want to have the first interaction filmed.

The change in atmosphere and sudden movement in the room sets off Patrick, who seems to not have noticed anyone entering. He leans forward a bit, in an attempt to get a better angle to look behind him to see who had just entered the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen please welcome to the room…”, he starts speaking with a teasing, announcer-like tone of voice. The only thing missing to complete the picture is a drumroll.

You are walking over to your chair to sit down but you stop in the middle room as he looks at you.

“Oh wow. This is an entrance. You stole my outfit.” He is joking and kidding in a light-hearted tone, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

You are full of confidence after your successful interview with James and you will not let him take that from you. Even if he had already caught you off guard and seized control of the interview and you weren't even talking 5 minutes. You know that you need to do something, this is your interview after all.

You are determined to scare him too, make him lose his composure. Set on your mission, you finally take the last few steps toward your chair that’s opposite him.

When you move past him, you catch a whiff of his scent. Crisp, invigorating notes of something fresh and woody surround you. It was fucking intoxicating.

As you sit down you see him clearly from the front for the first time.

His blue eyes, pierce into yours, holding eye contact as you take him in. You notice that he has a fairly straight nose, nice lips, and a subtle beard. He has sideburns which is something that you don’t like under normal circumstances. But dear god, even those are hot on him. Under his bomber jacket, he is wearing a white t-shirt that is just the right amount of tight on his broad frame.

He is the complete opposite of James, who is small, scrawny, and more scared than confident.

You swallow and clear your throat subtly, keen on regaining your confidence.

“Mister Warren. Edward Warren...”, you start, trying to somehow get your interview back under control. And as you set to continue speaking he interrupts you.

“Yes, lovely to see you. You've got a little something right there..”

Patrick touches his face, and brings his hand to his upper cheek, to show you where you have something in your face. Your eyes follow the movement of his long fingers and you notice the way his arms flex whenever he is moving.

You had checked your makeup in the bathroom not even 10 minutes prior, you know that you are fine yet you still instinctively touch your cheek where he motioned. It is like he knows that he makes you nervous. That he knows that he can throw you off your game. And so far, you are powerless to do anything against it, completely caught off guard.

As he sees that you are doing what he told you, he smiles cheekily, baring his teeth: “I'm kidding…”

He leans back in his chair. His eyes are still focused on yours as if nothing else in the room was of importance.

Is he.. Flirting with me?

His demeanor is still completely overwhelming you and you feel like a little schoolgirl talking to her crush unable to form any coherent sentence. So you clear your throat again before making another attempt to speak and steer the conversion to a different topic.

“You are a funny man, Edward… ”

You touch your headwear and tuck on it just like you would with your hair - a nervous tick you never could quite get rid of, “Or should I just call you Ed?”

You lean a bit forward and try to distance yourself from the feeling that you have when you look at the ridiculously attractive man sitting opposite you. Your form is tense as you are watching him, while Patrick is the equivalent of calm and composed.

“You can call me whatever you like”, he smiles at you and looks down at your feet, “in your pointy shoes. You’re like an elf…”,

That… is not an answer you were expecting and once again you just stare at him for a few seconds, unable to form any sentence on the fly. You are thinking of an answer but any funny retort that you may have thought of just vanishes from your mind when he lifts his head again and his eyes zero in on yours.

“Like a very beautiful elf”.

You can feel yourself blushing underneath your makeup and never had you been so grateful for the thick layer of face paint that you applied.

All the control that you may have thought you had is gone. He plays you like a piano and he is fucking Mozard. You cannot do anything against the magnetic pull you feel towards him. Goddammit you are a professional journalist, you should be able to just get a grip.

You wet your lips nervously, you know that you just have to follow whatever game he is playing even if you don’t like it. Something just tells you that he won't stop teasing and probing you.

When you open your mouth to ask the next question he leans forward a bit, tilts his head to the side, raising his eyebrow. A subtle way of telling you to speak up and letting you know that he is impressed that you are trying so hard to regain control you obviously don’t have.

“I”, your voice breaks in the middle of the sentence, so you start again: “I’ve heard that you were a spirit hunter?”

“I'm not really a hunter more often an aficionado of spirits”, he looks directly into your eyes again “I welcome them…”.

Patrick pauses before you can ask any follow-up question but rather continues speaking: “I'm glad you're here”.

Oh God, he IS flirting with me.

A strangled “Thank you” falls from your lips. You aren’t able to say anything more articulate or smarter when the realization hits you. You know that your behavior, well more your reaction to him is unprofessional at best but he is definitely enabling it.

He doesn’t let you off the hook and goes even a tad further: “Yes, you look beautiful.”

That is a lie - you look strange at most in your costume, maybe scary if you count James’ reaction to you. But it still catches you off guard, your face is still hot, and feel your palms get sweaty.

He is the one who looks beautiful, not you.

Only when Patrick thanks you with a pleased smile and you realize that you said that out loud and not thought of it in your head, silently. It isn’t even a lie, he does look insanely good but you did definitely not want to let him know that way.

The next few questions go over smoothly. You are flustered to no end, you don’t know what to make of the man in front of you. Is he like that all the time? Or does he just enjoy flustering you?

Every interaction is pushing you towards your limit, like a drop of water that is continuously filling up a glass. But there is nothing you can do against that. You could call him out of course but… that would create a weird situation.

You hate yourself a bit for the strong reaction you are having to him. Even though you interviewed many good-looking guys a situation like that never occurred. And you never reacted so strongly to someone you were interviewing.

“Do you believe in spirits?”, you ask, “I am a woman from God after all.”

Just a normal interview question for a horror movie about demons and such.

Patrick looks at you smirking, the left corner of his lip curling into a smile: “That you are… and a very beautiful one at that.”

That has been the second time that he called you beautiful in the short span of your talk. You are flattered but you also wonder, why he cannot answer your question normally with a yes or a no.

“Thank you I only accept it professionally though… ”

He laughs at your response and you feel your stomach flip at the sound. It is not your best comeback but it may be enough to give him the hint that it was too much for you. That you would like to keep it professional. You are pretty sure that you feel the eyes of your coworkers on you, judging you. But you don’t know if you're only imagining that.

“Yeah no we're not crossing that…” he pauses for a short moment as if he is contemplating what to say next. And as his blue eyes meet yours again, he has a mischievous look about him.

That is not a good sign, you think to yourself.

“Could you imagine what our kids would look like though?”

That question hits you like a lightning strike, rendering you motionless for a second. You swallow dryly suddenly your mouth inhabits the bare lands of the Sahara - void of every bit of moisture.

Once again he manages to catch you off guard and in a moment of every logical or coherent thought being gone from your brain you mumble: “Well, maybe I can”.

As soon as those words leave your mouth you know that you made a mistake.

First of all, you did not mean to blurt that out, it was a sudden thought that crossed your mind when he asked you the question.

Secondly, you are fighting your obvious attraction, and up until now, you thought you made a good effort to not give in and not to show him what he is doing to you.

You freeze as the weight of the words really hits you and you cannot do anything else than stare at Patrick.

He is looking at you smiling, the crowfeet around his eyes are prominent from how big he is grinning as he subtly crosses his legs.

“You dirty little nun”, he speaks deeper than he did before, with a raspy tone of voice while he emphasizes every word, his tongue caressing every syllable as his eyes hold yours.

An almost inaudible whimper escapes your lips upon his words before you are able to compose yourself.

By the way, he is still looking at you he definitely heard it.

You feel wetness pooling between your legs as warmth spreads over you. One part of you wishes that he would say that in a more intimate setting, something that involves much less clothing. You want him, desperately.

But the other part wishes that the interview and teasing would just stop.

You clear your throat and from your lips spill an incoherent stream of words, you are not able to form one proper sentence again.

You eventually regain your composure at least a little bit and you ask your next question: “Do you believe in spirits?“

It is a harmless one and you can cool down since he can just answer with a longer sentence without flirting with you.

“No“, Patrick pauses and looks at you. He seems more content after that previous question and your slip-up.

“But if they are mean I’m gonna fight them and I will be victorious”.

He looks at you challengingly, an eyebrow arched. After all, you are a spirit fighting him you guess? Not him directly but rather the attraction and the pull that you feel. And you are dressed as the spirit that haunts him in the movie.

“But you don’t believe in them? So they are not there?” You want a more shaped answer because it just got interesting.

“Well…sometimes they are there, sometimes they are not.” His eyes drill into yours again, as he speaks his next words.

“If something is in front of me that is challenging me - mocking me - then you may see a different side of me”.

By the way, he is looking at you, completely focused and somewhat stern it doesn’t feel like a conversation about his belief in spirits anymore - not that it ever was. To you, it sounds like he will do something if you don’t stop challenging him. You would like to see that different side that he is talking about nonetheless and you cannot help but wonder how he’d react if you were bratty while fucking. If he’d be gentle in correcting you or harsh and dominant.

Reaching for the notepad under your chair you try to ground yourself and get rid of the inappropriate thoughts you have about Patrick. You’re here to interview him, not to fantasize about ripping his clothes off.

For the next few questions you take down notes to keep yourself centered and your thoughts from running havoc - and it actually does work. Even if you are writing down nonsense and sometimes just scribbling something down.

But at least you can physically hold onto the pen and break the intense eye contact with Patrick from time to time.

“Can I see your notes?”, Patrick asks as he becomes aware of the distraction.

Your eyes snap up from your notepad and you notice that he sits very straight, looking at you down his nose. His stance reminds you of a teacher, stalking through a classroom, looking over students’ shoulders to see what they are writing.

You feel hot and flushed - embarrassed that he caught you.

Instead of answering him you just keep quiet, thinking of a way to steer the conversation away from that.

When he notices that you have no intentions of answering him he wets his lips: “What language do you write in?”

“In…”, you start but the way his arms flex when he runs a hand over his leg distracts you momentarily, causing you to lose focus. Only when he raises a damn eyebrow again, you continue speaking: “...old Latin.”

You just panic blurted out something that seemed fitting to the situation - you don’t write or speak Latin. Judging from the sceptical but amused look on his face he knows that too.

How is he able to throw you off so badly? It is like your mouth is quicker than your brain today, letting every stupid thought slip.

“Really?”, he sounds condescending with his head tilted a bit to the side, eyebrow arched, “Show me, I don’t believe you”.

He pauses, before looking at you intensely and leans back against the chair, crossing his arms and legs: “I think you’re a liar.”

You feel your nipples harden under his judging and waiting glance of his sparkling blue eyes and you squirm on your chair when you finally press out a whiny: “Why?”

Patrick tries to coax you into giving in, with his voice soft and gentle: “Just let me see… Speak some Latin to me.”

God, the way he pronounces every word and syllable makes you think that he wants you to speak something else apart from Latin, that he wants to know the filthy thoughts in your brain. Because by now you are sure that he knows what you are thinking about and he enjoys it.

Briefly, you wonder, if he would demand you to cum so softly too while he is buried inside you.

“Vade retro satana…”, he starts citing Latin exorcism literature and looks down at you, breaking you out of your thoughts, “How does that do you?”

“What?” You swallow dryly, this is turning you on a lot more than it should, like some really weird foreplay.

Patrick’s eyes sparkle mischievously, as he tilts his head again and his lips slowly curve into a smirk and he lifts his eyebrows. Only a low hm? leaves his lips.

The situation overwhelms you and you begin to stutter a stream of what? and erm leaving your mouth as he leans forward and nods every time you try to speak something.

If you were doubting that he knows what he is doing to you, you don’t doubt anymore. He knows and he likes it. The grin is full on his face, his teeth exposed as he watches you squirm on the chair under his scrutinizing gaze, struggling to form words and sentences that make sense.

You notice him readjust subtly. It’s only a quick movement over the top of his pants with his hand and as soon as the moment is over you’re not sure, if you imagined the fleeting gesture. By now you contemplate just slipping him your number, to give you an opportunity to properly flirt back without the looming threat of your coworkers and workplace.

“Do you…”, you start clearing your throat softly, before starting again, “Do you believe spirits and humans can be friends ?”

You underline your question with a clumsy hand movement, intertwining your fingers to show the connection while looking at him. You hope that he gets the hint with what exactly you mean.

Patrick’s mood changes without warning when he hears your question, the air in the room shifting, as he sits up straighter and breaks eye contact. He takes in a deep breath, the flirtiness that persisted the whole time you were talking is suddenly gone, replaced by annoyance.

“This is the third time you are coming onto me. And it scares me.”

Shit, did you misread the situation? Did you just make the whole flirting up, had your mind been playing tricks on you?

If you weren’t wearing white face paint already you are sure that your face would have been white. All the color had drained upon his reaction, almost immediately. You feel your heart beating fast and all-consuming anxiety building up in your stomach from the whiplash that you just experienced.

Heartbeat is loud in your ears and your voice is shaky and unsteady as you ask: “So, that’s a no?”

“No, that’s a yes”, that mischievous look is back in his eyes and his lips are curved into a smile as he watches you.

It takes a few seconds before your anxiety disappears into thin air upon his response and is replaced by that warm, fluttering in your stomach as well as the blush creeping back on your face.

Patrick loves flustering you, you are sure of that as he chuckles and smirks at your feeble attempt to form a coherent sentence. At least, you know that you have definitely not misread the situation you think, as you look at him.

You watch him as he reaches for his glass of coffee that’s standing under his chair. His large hand closes around it delicately and you wish that it was you that he was softly encircling with his fingers.

“I don’t usually take a sip of coffee during an interview”, he bows his head down a bit to reach for the straw with his lips, “But this is a different interview.”

And then he sucks. You watch mesmerized as he slurps the coffee from the glass and stare at his lips that are pursed around the straw. His eyes are trailed on yours as he drinks.

Would he keep his eyes locked on yours while he ate you out or fucked you just as he does now? Or would he whisper sweet nothings in your ear? Both are plausible you think as you unconsciously, wet your lips, while you watch him drink.

Patrick swallows loudly, making you watch his Adam’s apple as it bobs. Oh god how you wanted to sink your teeth there, how you wanted to taste his skin until you had memorized what he tasted like.

“Well, now I have a little gift for you”, you tell him after he puts the glass away.

You pull out a cross from a pocket in your robe, holding it upside down and extending your hand toward him. The cross is as big as your hand and made from metal, with rounded edges and a chain eyelet so it could be worn on a necklace without irritating the skin. It is still rather pretentious and you couldn’t imagine someone wearing that around their neck. But it is still a funny present - or so the production team thought.

The hand in which you hold the cross is shaking slightly and you try to will your arm into being still and suppress the tremor.

“Turn it upside down”, he says and motions his hand in the according fashion to underline how you should be turning it.

You just shake your head as a no, and he repeats his plea. At this point you just want him to say okay and take the stupid thing off you, so you further extend your arm.

“Your hands are shaking”

Of course, he notices your trembling hand, shit. You had hoped that he would not observe it or at least not call you out in front of the whole crew and on camera for that matter.

You look pleadingly at him, nodding at the trinket.

Finally, he takes pity on you and takes the cross out of your shaking hand. You let out a relieved breath as you pull back your hand and nervously laugh: “Thank you very much”.

That concludes your interview with Patrick and you are so glad to leave this room. You stand up and he copies your motion. For a short second, you both stand there before you extend your hand, as a handshake.

Patrick just chuckles, as he takes your hand: “No, thank you ”.

A chill races down your spine as you feel his bare skin on yours.

The contact feels like electricity is passing through you. You hold your breath as you lock eyes again. His hand is big and warm, dwarfing yours.

The handshake is borderline long now, lingering on the edge of unprofessional. As he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand softly, your breath hitches. His eyes are trailed on yours as he takes in your reaction.

You wish that he would keep touching you, but you have to break the contact - and so you do. You pull back your hand, missing the warmth of his.

With a final smile, you say goodbye and make your way out of the room without looking back.

You can sense his eyes following you and burning into you. It almost feels like they are lingering on your ass a little bit too long as you leave.

—----------------------

The way back to your dressing room is blurry and happens in a trance. If anyone asked you, you would neither be able to recall it properly nor in detail. The current goal is just to get home and blow off some steam. The whole ordeal was a lot and your thoughts are racing.

As you remove the heavy facepaint and take off the costume you wonder what Patrick’s game was. Because as much as you enjoyed his attention and the flirting, it feels like humiliation. You take a deep breath to calm your overactive thoughts.

Grabbing a bag, you stuff the costume inside and place it in a corner. Someone will take care of it, you think. It will probably be you on your next workday but at least by then you will have processed the day and be calmer again.

Tears well in your eyes and you run a hand over your face. You are not sad just overwhelmed and confused. Blinking the wetness in your eyes away you look at the ceiling and wonder how you will be able to face your colleagues again. Maybe you can just convince them that you played along with Patrick’s thing and embraced the whole costume matter, just as you were told.

In your head that does sound like a good plan - a believable plan. But future-you will tackle that, you decide, There is no use in panicking now, the crew will already have packed up their things and left. You look around the dressing room, wondering where the hell you put your sweater when you arrived earlier that day. Your whole mind is just too scrambled to remember right now.

A gentle knock on the door derails your train of thought.

Who can that be?You furrow your brow. Normally everyone is too busy with finishing up their work and getting out of here to check on you.

You open the door and blink in surprise, rendered speechless.

Patrick Wilson is standing outside your dressing room. He is leaning against the doorframe with a gentle smile on his face, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans and his long legs crossed.

As your eyes rake over his form, you notice that he shed the jacket he had been wearing for the interview.

You take a breath: “What are you doing here -”

“You’re even more beautiful than before”, you don’t even get to finish your sentence before he interrupts you.

For a moment you feel like a deer in headlights, standing wide-eyed and unable to answer straight away. You don’t know what you - or who - you expected but it wasn’t this. In your mind, you had made peace with the thought that you’d never see him again - as sad as that was.

Unexpectedly, he gives to time to recover and doesn’t say anything else to throw you off. He only watches you with soft eyes.

“Oh stop”, you say, suddenly the whole situation annoys you. You like whatever this is but you’d much rather like getting home and calling it a day. “The cameras are off, Patrick. You can turn it down”.

You fancy his charm, he makes you feel good and pretty.

You enjoy his attention, the tingling of your skin whenever he lays his blue eyes on you a clear giveaway.

But you are weary of his intention.

Maybe he is like that in every interview. Actually, you’d bet on it - he’s a good-looking, nice guy. It’s probably just fun for him.

What you don’t understand is why he is on your doorstep right now.

“Stop what?”

Patrick chuckles as he straightens up from the doorframe. The situation feels strangely personal and different than before. His eyes are locked on yours as he reaches out slowly to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, before resting his hand on the side of your face. The intimate gesture causes you to flush, red creeping onto your cheeks as your breath hitches,

He wets his lips, the tip of his tongue darting out and you cannot help but let your gaze flicker down and follow the movement. He takes a step forward into the room, his eyes on yours, looking for any signs that you object. When you take a few steps back, wordlessly inviting him in, he complies immediately.

With a chuckle, he closes the door behind him. This gives you a moment to consider your current situation: you are alone in a room with the man you have been eyefucking since you first saw him. And while you know, that you want him to have his way with you, you still don’t know what his plan is.

He closes the distance between you and looks down at you, a serious look on his face. Up close you notice the different shades of blue in his eyes. Bright, unwavering and so deep, like the sea. Fucking beautiful.

You feel the heat his body is emanating surrounding you.

“‘m going to kiss you now…”, Patrick’s voice is soft and quiet, he waits for you to object, his eyes looking at you searching. He closes the distance when you don’t say anything and guides his lips to yours.

He kisses you. It is a soft and light one, barely brushing his mouth to yours. You feel the stubble that dusts his face on yours. The scratching sensation is most welcome.

When you part he looks at you, smiling: “I wanted to do that since you stepped into that room”.

You blush and he grins at it, stroking your cheek. Your cheek feels incredibly hot under his soft touch. You reach out, and touch him, giving in to the sensation. Your left hand warps around the curve of his right bicep, feeling his hard muscular arms.

Your right hand comes up to his face, mimicking his motion on your cheek on his. You feel his soft skin and rough stubble on the pad of your thumb as you drink him in. His smile is impossibly wide and you cannot help but return the smile. Your thumb follows the curve of his lips and comes to rest in the dip of his cheek.

He tilts your head upwards again with the hand on your cheek, kissing you again, deeper this time, his lips parting yours.

Patrick tastes off the coffee he had been drinking and something sweet that he had been eating. His lips are incredibly soft and yet firm under yours as you return the kiss. His other hand roams your body, coming to rest at your back to pull you flush against his thick frame. You moan into the kiss and move closer to him.

You feel his open hand on your back, applying soft pressure to keep you close. The sprawled-out fingers lay still and only his thumb softly stroking you. You can feel the warmth of his hand even through the fabric.

You are desperate for more contact and let your hand wander through his hair that feels soft beneath your fingers and your fingers coming to rest on the nape of his neck. Your other hand moves from his arm to his shoulder, keeping him firmly against you.

As you break away, breathless you look up towards him. His eyes are significantly darker, the soft blue hue shifted into a darker one, his pupils blown wide. He looks into your eyes from beneath his eyelashes. Patrick dips his head down to kiss the soft spot beneath your ear. You feel his breath fanning over your ear shell as he nibs that spot again you hiss at the sensation.

Encouraged by your reaction he starts leaving open-mouthed kisses down to your neck causing you to shiver at the feeling. A tingling starts at the base of your spine and runs up.

When he bites down slightly on the soft skin of your throat you cannot help but let a strangled, quiet moan escape your lips as you arch into him. You feel his dick against your belly, hard and thick.

“You taste as sweet as you look, darling”, he murmurs. His voice is still soft but deeper, lined by lust. “I cannot wait to savor all of you”.

You tighten your hold on his shoulder upon his words, your fingers digging into the hard muscle. Fuck you remember the way he sucked on his straw and your thoughts of how he would look buried between your thighs and now you may get that.

“Fuck, Patrick ”, was all that you managed to say.

He lowers the hand on your back, brushing it at the hem of your shirt, tracing across the strip of bare skin before letting his hand slide under it and properly feeling the skin of your back. With his open palm, he pulls you closer to him and grinds his erection into you. You tug his head back to yours, kissing him again as his hands travel to your hips.

Patrick lifts you like you weigh nothing and you instinctively wrap your hand around his waist. You moan at the sensation of his fingers digging into your skin and the stretch of his broad abdomen against your open legs.

He takes a few steps back, sitting you down on the dresser when he kisses you again, cradling your face between his hands.

You break the kiss and tug on his shirt, a signal for him to take it off. You want to feel his skin on yours and you want to see him. Patrick obliges your wish and pulls it over his head before letting it fall to the floor.

Patrick is solid in front of you as you take him in.

Broad, wide shoulders with a light dusting of hair on his chest that leads into a trail originating just under his belly button, leading further down into the waistband of his jeans. On his defined arms, which you spend a good deal of the interview staring at, you notice a vein leading up his bicep and your fingers itch to trace it and then follow it with your tongue. You want to see and hear his reaction to that.

His hands come to rest on your thighs again, drawing lazy symbols on them making you throb with need. He braces his weight on his arms as he leans in again, locking eyes with you.

With a wink, he kisses the sensitive spot under your ear again. When he nibbles, sinking his teeth in, you feel a sting of pain turning into electricity, racing up your spine, making you mewl and grab his arms. His skin is hot and smooth under your fingers. Your legs close around his waist again, as he peppers your neck with open-mouthed kisses, pulling him closer. You buck your hips and grind against his hard cock, making him groan softly.

“You wear too much, sweetheart”

He retreats a bit to stand up again much to your dismay and just as you want to start objecting, he slips his hands under your top, making you shudder. His hands roam the skin softly before he pulls it over your head and lets it fall to the floor, joining his discarded shirt.

With a strangled fuck he is back on you, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly close as he kisses you. Your hands move to grab his arms, to hold onto something as he parts your lips and slips his tongue into your mouth. As you kiss, you feel his fast heartbeat against your chest which is flush with his.

When parts from your mouth he loosens his hold on you and licks, kisses and nibs his way down to your chest. As soon as he reaches your bare tits, he rolls a nipple in between his thumb and index, making you moan and your head fall back. He repeats the motion and flicks it for good measure, before doing the same thing to your other breast. Patrick then kisses your nipple, giving it a tap with his tongue before blowing onto it. The sudden contrast of cold air on your overheated skin makes you shiver.

“Gorgeous”, he mumbles as he moves his hand over your belly and traces the outline of your cunt through your leggings, skipping lightly over your clit. Want pools in your belly, as you feel the warmth of his palm against you.

You are desperate for more and reach out, cupping his hard cock through his jeans. He groans and his bright eyes find yours are he dips his head to kiss you.

Involuntarily you buck your hips as his hand traces over your pussy again and he strokes over your clit. You feel the slip of your underwear on your cunt, as he applies light pressure. You in turn follow the outline of his hard dick again.

With a deep growl-like sound he separates himself from you, lifting his eyebrow: “That’s how you wanna play it? What did I say about mocking ?”

His long fingers tuck at the waistband of your leggings, pulling it down together with your underwear. It falls and joins your clothing on the floor.

“I am gonna make you squirm ”, he says when his eyes trail down your body, and end at your cunt.

Patrick puts his hand on your belly, spreading it and pushing you down to lay back. He drops on his knees, his head on eye level with your pussy. When he puts your legs over his shoulders and settles himself between them he lets his fingers trace a soft pattern on your inner thighs, making you moan softly.

He presses an open-mouthed kiss on the soft flesh of your inner thigh and you revel at the scratch of his stubble, electricity prickling from the spot, before he looks up at you, catching your eyes, and asking: “Are you comfortable?”

Patrick looks like pure sin between your legs as he looks up at you with dark eyes, asking if you’re fine with what he’s doing. You reach out and press your left hand against his cheek, letting it sit there: “Yeah”

He smiles a toothy smile and kisses the inside of your hand before you pull it back. As you feel his hot breath against your cunt, you let your hand come to rest on the crown of his head, combing his hair back a bit.

You jolt, as when presses a kiss against your clit, before pulling back. That was unexpected.

With one hand he ghosts over your clit, before tracing it through your slit. You moan at the feeling of his hot fingers parting your cunt. Patrick wraps an arm around your waist, before drawing slow circles and lazy patterns around your clit. You squirm beneath his touch, fuck, the pressure is too light to bring you closer to an orgasm.

“Patrick, please ”, you whine, desperate for him to give you more as you tuck slightly on his hair.

He lifts his gaze that was focused on your cunt before and meets your eyes, with a slow smile he says: “I like it when you beg, sweetheart”

Patrick guides one long finger into your cunt, keeping his eyes locked on you, to see your reaction. The motion is oh so slow and you feel every ridge of his knuckles as he nudges inside you. You let out another breathy please when he twists it to drag it along the walls of your pussy. You are bucking your hips when he adds a second one, curling and twisting slowly inside you, not bothering to quicken his pace.

He swipes his thumb over your clit with a lazy movement, making you moan and you tighten your grip on his hair, tugging lightly at the strands. You are desperate for him to do something quicker. You feel like you are slowly going insane as he continues to thrust his fingers slowly into your pussy, dragging and turning them, while softly massaging your clit.

You whine when he pulls back and sit up a bit as you hear rustling.

“You remember that?”, his eyes sparkle and his smile is wide as he holds up the cross you had gifted him at the end of the interview.

Your eyes go wide, surely he’d not fuck you with the cheap metal crucifix? But if you're completely honest, you don't particularly care what he does as long as he does something. The thought is lost as quickly as it was there when you feel Patrick drag his cheek over the soft skin of your inner thigh, making you perceive the rough scratch of his beard. You shiver and moan against him as you feel puffs of his hot breath against your cunt, making you forget again.

And then finally his mouth is on you. Thinking in any way becomes impossible, as you fall down flat onto the dresser, unable to keep yourself up in any way.

“Oh god”, you groan as he closes his lips around your clit, suckling lightly and then flicking his tongue over the bud in a single, gentle circle.

His arm around your waist is keeping you steady and in place, as you arch your back and tense your thighs. He lets out a low moan and you feel it vibrate through your body, adding to the sensation. With a slow and dexterous tongue and fingers, he builds you slowly. Gently learning what makes you squirm, buck, arch, and shiver. You hear the wet sounds of his tongue against your cunt as you wither beneath him.

He sinks the thick end of the cross inside you unexpectedly. You curse out a hoarse fuck as you feel the cold metal inside your hot pussy. Upon your reaction, he smirks and likes a broad stripe over your clit, before sucking on it.

The combination of his hot tongue circling the bundle of nerves and the cool, stiff crucifix dragging against your walls makes you buck your hips. He thrusts it inside you a few times, making you hear the squelch sound of your cunt as he fills you up with the religious symbol.

When he pulls it out he lets it fall to the group, where it lands with a clank. You whine again at the loss of contact, you feel empty.

But he shushes you and sinks two of his thick fingers inside you again and puts the flat of his tongue on your clit before twirling it around the nub. You spasm against him as he curls them against your walls, thrusting deliberately.

Patrick alternates between sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it while twisting and turning his fingers inside you.

You frantically bury one of your hands in his hair again, keeping him in place, afraid that he may stop. Your other hand finds his shoulder and grips down hard. You mumble and moan as he brings you to the edge of your climax. He applies more pressure while sucking lightly and with the heavy drag of his fingers you feel the cord inside you snap.

As he makes you cum you clench around his fingers while letting out a stream of words consisting of oh fuck, oh god and oh Patrick, your voice strained and thick with desire.

Patrick doesn't let up but rather keeps you high through it. He still pumps his fingers lazily into your pussy, the wet noise obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room, as he licks and kisses every erogenous zone in his reach. Only when your thighs begin shaking and you let out a whine, he stops and withdraws his fingers, pressing one last kiss on your cunt. You come down from your orgasm, slowly drifting back into reality as you sit up a bit and look at the man who just gave you a mind-shattering orgasm.

Patrick looks filthy. His hair is ruffled and in disarray, strands poking in every direction from you continuously raking your fingers through it. His chin and neck are glistening, drenched in your wetness. His pupils are blown wide with lust and look almost black.

He smiles proudly and wide, as you lie bonelessly before him and pulls you up to kiss you. Patrick wraps his arms around you, embracing you, while he devours you. You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

He breaks the kiss, and leans forward so his hot breath fans over your ear as he speaks in a low voice: “I was right, you taste divine ”

As the words register in your brain you whimper against him. You feel the sticky wetness between your thighs and the fatigue that settles in your stomach. And yet, you want more. You want that charming, soft man to dismantle you, so the only coherent thing you remember is his name and, how he feels around you, how he feels inside you.

So as his breath tickles over your ear, you lick a broad stripe over his thick neck up to his jawline. He groans into your ear, a deep guttural sound that has a surprised undertone. Patrick kisses your earlobe as you pepper hot kisses on his jaw, feeling the brush of his stubble against your lips.

He turns his head, rubbing his nose against your cheek before pulling back. His breath comes on heavy puffs, making his broad chest rise and fall rhythmically. The veins on his muscular arms are even more defined now. You notice the obvious bulge he is sporting, his hard cock straining against his jeans.

Patrick meets your eyes, a cheeky smile on his lips as he looks at you. His hand comes up to scratch the back of his head and your eyes follow the movement of his arm, marveling at the way his bicep flexes.

"I'd love to take this further, but I don't have a condom…" He trails off, apologetically.

You feel a pang of disappointment upon his statement - you want him to fuck you, everything else be damned. You don’t typically have sex with people you just met - especially not without proper protection. But fuck you don’t care right now.

“I don’t either…”, you pause and you notice the shine of disappointment in his eyes that mirrors your feelings, “But I’m clean and on the pill”.

His blue eyes snap to yours, dark and full of lust.

“You sure?”, he asks you sincerely, with a rough voice. He's hesitant, not sure if he should give in. You can see the battle behind his eyes, barely restrained desire shining bright in them.

“Yes, I’m sure. Fuck me, Patrick, please ”

Of course, you’re sure, there is nothing you want more than him at this moment. To underline your words you let your hand brush over the bulge in his jeans, feeling his hard dick twitch.

The last piece of his resolve crumbles as he lunges forward, connecting your lips in a crushing kiss, ravaging you. You cannot help but moan into the kiss as you return it with the same fervor, the fire within you sparked by his reaction.

His strong hands fly over your back, touching as much skin as he can with his fingers spread out. In turn, you bury your hands in the flesh of his upper arms while you continue making out. He grinds his clothed cock into your bare cunt. You moan when you feel the scrape of his jeans, the sound is swallowed by your kiss.

Patrick’s lips curve into a smirk as he repeats the motion, with more force this time. The burn against your pussy feels delicious and you tighten your hold on his arms, knuckles turning white.

“Are you going to soak my pants?”, he rasps against your lips. His words are accompanied by a particularly strong and rough push of his bulge against your cunt.

You clench down on nothing, and as you feel the fabric against your clit you grow more and more desperate and tired of the teasing. As much as you like that he takes his time figuring out what you like and how to push your buttons - you want more and you want it now.

When you separate, you are both breathing heavily. Patrick turns his head to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses against your jaw and throat before nipping slightly at the soft skin there. By now you are sure that he marked your skin good and well.

While he continues you loosen the grip of your right hand on his arm. With slight pressure, you use your nails to slightly graze over his chest and abdominal muscles on your way to the waistband of his jeans making Patrick groan.

You tug at the leather belt, trying to manipulate the prongs of the buckle in hopes of releasing the tension that holds it in place. He watches you intently, eyes fixed on your shaking hand as you finally manage to pull the strap through the frame.

Before you can reach for the button of his jeans he beats you to it, undoing it swiftly with a motion of his hand, clearly also desperate to get it off now. Patrick shoves his pants and underwear over his hips. They pool at his feet and he steps out of them before kicking them off to join your other discarded clothes.

You watch as his cock springs free, and hits his stomach, hard and leaking precum. He wraps a hand around the base, giving himself one pump.

He is absolutely gorgeous as he stands before you with a hand on his dick, his skin shining and dewy with sweat, chest heaving, and a look of fierce determination on his face.

You dip your head towards his upper arm.

Finally, you indulge in the mindless impulse to run your tongue over the prominent, protruding vein on his bicep. Tasting salt and sweat as you leave a wet trail before you pull back.

“I’ve wanted to do that since you took off your jacket”

A rumbling, deep groan leaves Patrick’s mouth before he rushes forward, cradling your face between his hands and bringing his mouth to yours. He kisses you hungrily, pressing his hot body against yours. Instinctively your hands snake around his back, holding him in place as you return the kiss. You feel his hard, hot cock twitch against your pussy and you mewl into his mouth, fuck you want him.

He untangles himself from you with one last soft peck against your lips and lets his eyes wander towards your cunt. With his dick in one hand, he goes on to trace the outline of your pussy with the blunt head of his dick, just barely nudging the entrance as you whimper beneath him. He uses his other hand on your hips to keep you steady.

Patrick presses your swollen, aroused labia against his cock, as if trying to create another slit to fuck, as he bucks against your wriggling form, coating his dick in your juices.

When he finally pushes his dick into you, you moan loudly at the stretch against your swollen cunt. Patrick’s head falls against your shoulder, groaning as he gives you a moment to adjust to him, his fingers tracing your hipbones. Your pussy throbs around him.

He pulls back just as slowly, leaving only the tip in. Before pushing back in, grinding against your clit when he’s buried deep enough, making you feel every inch of him. Each and every one of his deep but slow thrusts is agony.

You arch your back and close your legs around him in an attempt to get him to move.

When a weak pleasure falls from your lips, he retaliates and finally starts thrusting inside you hard. You moan when you feel the drag of his dick inside you, filling your cunt. His right hand pulls you up into a kiss, while the other one is still gripping your hip. Patrick breaks the kiss and looks down at your pussy to watch his cock disappear inside you.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart”, he grinds out while his eyes are trailed on your cunt as he trusts, a raw and primal look in them.

You follow his gaze to watch his cock disappearing inside of your cunt over and over, slick with your fluids.

The grip on your hips tightens when he looks up again, giving you a wink before he starts fucking you in earnest, ramming into you and you’re sure that you are ruined. Your hands dig into his shoulders, trying to hold on as he continues to drive into you, the sharp slap of his hips echoes in the room. Your mouth parts and moans spill from your lips.

“Will you soak me, like you’ve soaked my fingers, darling? Like you’ve soaked the cross?”, he mutters lowly as he pounds into you in sharp thrusts, his blue eyes burning into yours. You hear the wet noises of his cock every time he bottoms out inside your cunt and you don’t doubt that it drips down his balls, staining the desk he’s fucking you on.

You meet him thrust for thrust, pushing your hips back into him and trying to match his rhythm. He twists his hips, changing the angle at which his cock drags against the walls of your cunt, making you yelp as he hits the spot that makes your back arch against him.

You know that he’s observing your reaction since he does it again, and again. Digging deep into your pussy, as you moan and whimper. It feels like he is sparking a flint inside you. Every drag, every pull, every thrust sparks the fire inside you, bringing you closer to actually explode or go up in flames.

His breath is hot against your ear, voice low and rough, underlining how much of an effect you’re having on him: “You’re gonna cum for me?”

A drop of sweat travels down his broad chest until it is caught by the sparse hair on his abs, you see the shake in his muscles as he drags his hips against you, keeping up his fast pace.

“If you make me”, a slow smile crosses your face as you watch Patrick’s eyebrows draw together in determination. Apparently, that had been the correct thing to say.

He lets his hand fall to your clit, rubbing it with his palm. You buck and grind against him, please falling from your lips, as he continues to thrust into you while matching the rhythm with his hand, rubbing circles. You moan into his mouth again, caught in a heated kiss when he softly bites down on your bottom lip.

He pounds into you in deep and long strokes, the rattle of the desk a clear giveaway to anyone who might be walking by the room.

You bury your head against his shoulder. As you bite into it, he hisses. A deep sound that makes you clench around him, pressure growing in your stomach.

Your brain feels blissfully empty, only the sensation of being filled by his dick again and again at the forefront of your mind as he bottoms out inside you with every thrust, grazing that sweet spot in your cunt that makes you see stars when he hits it. You watch the way his knuckles turn white from the strain and the edge in his bicep when he slams into you hardly, fingers still toying with your clit.

Suddenly, everything is too much, and you feel your muscles tighten up inside you, internal pressure growing and spreading. For a moment you feel suspended in pure ecstatic pleasure, burning with fire when your walls tighten around him and you cum in a spine-curling orgasm, calling out his name.

You feel his hips stutter, a brief break in his unrelenting rhythm that he continues to hold to fuck you through your high.

“Where?”, he asks you, half groaning as he slams inside you, still hitting that spot and still rubbing circles around your clit.

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend his words and understand their meaning but through shaking breaths, you manage to grind out “Inside me”

His cock twitches inside you as he increases his pace again, not letting up. You know that he’s close, chasing his orgasm and slamming balls deep into you, brow furrowed and breathing heavy.

“Fill me up”, your hushed words are almost inaudible against the rattling of the desk and the wet slap of his skin against yours. But by the way, his eyes darken again and his mouth goes slack he heard you.

You smile and reach out to cup his cheek to pull him closer and kiss him hungrily.

His fingers tighten against your hip in a way that you’re sure that you will have bruises from that, visible only the next day, a reminder of what he did to you.

When he cumes, he kisses you deeply, groaning into your mouth, a mixture of your name and a curse. He pulls you even closer, as he fucks through his own orgasm, getting slower and slower in pace. He stills when he comes down, keeping his hips flush with yours.

You take the solemn moments to watch him come down from his high, eyes closed and utterly at peace as he takes deep breaths.

Patrick’s cock softens slowly. And when it eventually slips out, you feel his cum dropping from your cunt.

“Fuck”, he says breathlessly, opening his eyes and smiling a wide, toothy smile. His broad frame glistens with a layer of sweat in the light of your room and sweat beads on his forehead, a sign of the exertion, “I knew you were a dirty girl”

You snort, and a laugh escapes your mouth as you look into his blue eyes, which sparkle with humor. You reach out, to lay your hand against his cheek, feeling the stubble and the dip of his smile.

He covers your hand on his face with his large one, keeping it in place as he turns his head and places a kiss on your palm. Patrick’s lips linger for a few moments before he pulls his hand back and leans his forehead against yours. Your breath mingles as you stay like that, just looking at each other and breathing deeply.

Patrick untangles himself from you after a few minutes and leaves a soft kiss on your head.

A deep ache and tiredness settles in your limbs as you watch him bow down and reach for his clothing. You cannot help but marvel at his nice ass and strong tights as you sit on the desk. You don’t trust your legs to work right now. When he stands up again, catching you staring and he just raises an eyebrow as he pulls up his boxer shorts and tucks his now soft cock away.

“In my defense, you’re very nice to look at”, you smile and hold up your hands in mock surrender.

He scoffs and shakes his head, softly laughing as he balls his shirt in his hands. You watch him come over to you, using it to clean you wordlessly. You hiss when he scrapes your clit and he mumbles a quiet sorry as he shoots you a sweet smile.

Your heart swells at the gesture, you like that he continues to take care of you and that he thought of that. Of course, he was nothing but respectful during everything but still, you did not expect that level of care.

“Done”, Patrick smiles at you and shoots you a wink as he holds out his hand to help you down from the desk. Gladly, you take it, still not trusting your shaky legs,

He engulfs you in a hug when you stand, his broad arms holding you close as you return the gesture, leaning your cheek against his chest. With serious eyes, he looks down at you: “I’d like to take you out to dinner or coffee sometime if you’re up for it”.

A smile spreads over your face upon his question and you answer with a soft yes, kissing him. He gladly returns it, before letting you go to get dressed.

You watch him from the corner of your eye as he puts on his pants with a quick jump while you slip into your leggings and top. You don’t bother looking into the mirror, you know that you definitely look thoroughly fucked and so does he. If anyone were to see you two they’d know what happened. So your goal is to just get to your car and drive home.

When your eyes meet again, you nod your head to the door: “Let’s go”

You notice a wet spot on his shirt from when he cleaned you up and cannot help blushing. He arches an eyebrow at you and smirks: “I don’t mind, I’d do it again”. Laughing you shake your head, he really does drive you crazy.

You walk out of the room together and through the studio that is mercifully deserted with your hands intertwined.

#patrick wilson #patrick wilson smut #patrick wilson x reader #fanfiction #the conjuring #The Conjuring #ed warren #insidious #i am feral for that man #aquaman #orm marius

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harfanfare · 2 years

Text

Unique Kisses: Heartslabyul!

Hearslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Riddle R. (strawberry kisses)

If it wasn’t for this situation, Riddle would consider removing strawberries from a cake a blasphemy.

Fortunately for you, and also his joy, which he could not admit to if it wasn’t the last resort, Riddle isn't sure if his judgement would be a fair one. He is drunk on the taste of strawberries and fluffy cream, but also your fragrance, which has been his favourite aroma even before he thought he would dare to confess his feelings to you.

Riddle knows he doesn’t think soberly, but also believes that Trey didn’t change a recipe for his favourite dessert.

So, it is your fault.

“You should have taken yourself a piece of cake if you crave strawberries so much,” he says, regarding how you stab a little strawberry from his tart on a silver fork. It shimmers softly with honey or frosting or whatever Trey had added. Right now, Riddle can’t remember what his favourite dessert tastes like, and it was your fault as well.

“Kitchen is too far away,” you almost sigh, but don’t do that because it’s not a reason to be disappointed. “And, by the way, you are the one eating your tart. The greater part is still yours.”

“I have an irresistible impression that my serving disappears too fast.”

“You’re such a gourmet then. You will have to take bigger pieces next time.”

You chuckle at his stern facade, face fully covered with blushes, not matching the crossed arms that were probably meant to give his figure a more serious tone.

The strawberry on the fork you put against his lips, and he - used to this, after your multiple pleas - swallows his dignity and bites the fruit enough, not to cut it in half. He blinks a little faster, a little more nervous, and can’t bear to hold your stare when you smile and put the fork aside.

And then, you bite a strawberry held by his lips. A soft crunch attends the moment where your lips brush against each other. You feel how a sweet juice fills your lips and you have to move away to not let it drain over a corner of your mouth.

Satisfied, now less frustrated with your idea, you lick your wet, slightly sticky lips.

You glance at Riddle.

It… was a surprise that he went with your idea. It was a plan to soften him up a bit and have another reason to laugh when he would scold you again for your “preposterous suggestions”.

Surely not for you to stand in bewilderment and quick-paced heartbeat when Riddle pulls out a strawberry on a fork towards you. And as his face is red, crimson almost, his gaze is tainted with warm grey.

“Now it’s your turn.”

And that was an order.

Trey C. (hand kisses)

Trey Clover is a gentleman.

He opens the door whenever you go with him. Helps to carry supplies to the alchemy room at the far end of the school. Forbids you to prepare snacks for yourself, just to serve you beautiful little tarts during a break, that can be eaten in one bite.

His love is elegant and attentive. He likes to hold you in his arms while reading books. By highlighting the most important things in notes he helps you prepare for exams. He doesn’t even complain when you rob his wardrobe and usurp his clothes. He collects - by following all the Queen's rules or while avoiding Riddle's eyesight -- and offers you roses for every greater or lesser success.

A dreamy gentleman.

The only thing that mystifies you every time, is his touch.

You always quiver slightly as he takes your hand in his and entwines your fingers. He turns it over and brings it to his mouth, kissing the back of your hand. You don't know what is more delicate: the way his fingers slide over yours, or your heart, which will probably quickly tear apart itself, not able to bear the darting beat.

It would definitely be a nice death, but more than choosing that, you'd still rather live through this moment.

Trey's lips brush against your skin and move towards your fingers. There, he places another kiss and when he finally releases your hand, he still holds you. A grip slightly tightens when you look at him bashfully.

It was a gentleman's kiss.

Or maybe not gentleman’s, but from a man who pretends. You are not sure if a gentleman would do something like that to his lady: watch her lose her mind with each kiss as she becomes more and more addicted to her gentleman who smiles with a subtle but private smile.

Even as he pulls away, you feel that the spot on your skin where he kissed you tickles you lightly.

"Good morning to you, too, I should say”, you exclaim with a big smile. But you already like that greeting very much, and you're sure Trey knows it as well, as he repeats the gesture every day.

"Ah, and that's not the reaction I was expecting," he snorted as you rolled your eyes. “You got used to this trick already. Should I stop or…” now he smiles, mischievously. Certainly not like a gentleman. “...change the offensive?”

Cater D. (kisses on the eyes)

“Smile!” and snap! With a soft sound, another photo saves itself on Cater’s phone. He immediately enlarges it with his fingers, brings the image closer to your faces and clicks his tongue with dissatisfaction, but doesn’t remove the photo. “No, that’s not it. We look lovely, but- Sweetie, come closer!”

“Yes, yes.”

You take another step towards Cater. He instantly places his arm over yours, drawing you a little closer, as he holds the phone in the other hand. He observes the preview of the photo. And then, he directs you to turn a little to the west, so the sun would colour your faces even more.

An artistic wind begins to blow and ruffles the leaves of the trees behind your back. They form your main background, which Cater wanted to expose as they were famous for their multicoloured flowers. It was the main reason to choose this park as the next place for your date. The strands of your hair began to wave, and you gently brushed a few away from your eyes.

But before Cater can snap that hundredth picture, you lower your head and put hand to your face.

“Ah, I think something is in my eye,” you murmur, with all your will trying not to rub your eyes. “Probably sand, ewh.”

“Oh, oh, wait, wait, wait,” Cater quickly tucks the phone into the pocket of his jacket and with one movement unbuckles his backpack. He pulls out a bottle of water -which he immediately hands to you - and then finds a package of tissues. “Here. Try to wash it out. And blink. You're supposed to blink a lot at times like this, right?” … Luckily for you, you don’t have to vex with it for long, because after a short while you manage to get the sand out of your eye. Cater’s phone is used as a mirror, and he checked himself if there might be any irritation visible in your eye.

You crumple a wet tissue and throw it in the trash can near your bench.

“It’s all right now, I think.”

Cater puts his stuff in his bag and gets up. With a short wave, he says that he wants you to stay where you are.

"I will cast a healing spell on your eyes," he announces and crouches in front of you. He smiles. “Metaphorical one. Please don't trust me when it comes to healing magic.”

And then he moves closer to you, and his hands are on your cheeks. They hold you in place as he gets closer and closer until he completely fills your view and asks you to close your eyes. You don’t have to look at him to know his gaze is trailing your face. And when he stops, it’s because he wanted to turn your attention to the touch as he places warm kisses on your eyelids.

These are some of the softer kisses Cater gave you. They are almost imperceptible and uncharacteristic of him, but you can feel the care in each one... and have a scent of his cologne – jasmine scent, slightly spicy in smell - that he put on himself surround you.

He steps back only when each eye receives at least three kisses.

“I think I feel better now...” You say with a smile which he reciprocates. He pulls out his phone, once again, and points its lens at you. He hums with pleasure, as he finds the perfect angle.

“So~? Will you smile for me once more?”

You can’t say no after such a satisfying spell.

Ace T. (feigned kisses)

“Hey, hey, come here, I want to tell you something...”

You tear your gaze away from your notebook, where the next line of your essay on the history of magic is now cut halfway. Ace's whisper snapped you out of the monologue you've arranged in your head, and you know you won’t recollect it soon. Not even a passive focus spell applied to the library could help, as Ace acted as a truly sterling distraction.

“Come here yourself.”

“It's important”

It’s probably not.

You sigh and shake your head. Ace does the same, but rises from his untouched textbooks. "I lack the motivation to study today," he tells you every time you drag him along to prepare for your next exam together.

He stops in front of you and turns your chair around so that you can directly face him. He smiles mischievously. Almost malevolently, but warm enough.

He places his hands on both sides of your chair and—oh, since when is he so close to you?

It's not that Ace isn’t in the habit of kissing you—he likes it as much as you do, although he never fails to roll his eyes when you ask for a kiss, or tease you ("ah, so you need more of my attention, hm? Heh~") before pressing his lips to yours.

And you are expecting the latter option until Ace stops inches from your face and snarls.

“Heh. You wish”.

He tries to whisper something more, but you don’t give him an opportunity to do so, as you throw your head back. And then he greets you with a look, you could describe as mean.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, genuinely disappointed. You turn your chair around and quickly tuck your books into your bag. Maybe you'll find Riddle or someone who can chase Ace away a bit with their presence, so you will have some peace. “But I'm feeling less and less sorry that it didn't happen. See you later, I'm off to class…”

...

Huh.

He didn’t expect that. Did you have a bad day today? Did he do something wrong or- Did you really care about getting a good grade on that essay? He couldn't guess, but he knew that if he doesn’t make a move now, you will try getting back at him.

“Hey—!” He wheezes, grabbing your hand. “You can't give up so easily. Fight for what you want!”

“Too much work.”

Ace sighs and tilts his head. He pulls you towards him by the strap of the bag you carry, almost knocking you off balance. And then, he presses your lips to his—they are unexpectedly soft and you start to wonder if it was because of the honey he added to his tea at almost every unbirthday party (to break another rule of his dorm)—and then... And then you both lost the air in your lungs that you hadn't managed to take in before kissing.

You look at him from under your lashes as you take a deep breath. “To quote, "Ah, so you need more of my attention?””

“Ughh,” Ace breathes out, and you feel that quiet sigh on the skin of your neck. He is still incredibly close, but for that moment you can’t bring yourself to push him away. “You're lucky I like you. …And, by the way, you choose very wise man’s quotes.”

Deuce S. (forehead kisses)

“…”

“...”

“...Are you asleep?”

“...No. Not yet.”

The quilt rustles quietly as you sat up on the bed. You feel tired, your head aches, and your eyes seem too heavy. You are sure you've already yawned about five times since you said “goodnight”, but even after forty—you counted each one with agony—minutes of lying down, sleep wasn't taking you away.

Neither did Deuce, and that was your current greatest comfort.

“I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight,” you whisper, trying to make out his features in the darkness that merge into a dark room. But you are sure that that darker patch of shadow—Deuce—is looking at you as intently as you are looking at it. “Not after the movie that Ace picked out.”

Deuce slowly gets up and you can finally tell where his face is.

“He picked the wrong title,” Deuce agrees, sighing heavily. “I don't know if I can-... Erm, I mean, I'm not a fan of horror movies, but it's not that, that, I-.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” you interrupt him gently and squeeze the duvet lightly in your fingers. You turn your gaze to a window where a hint of light shines through the gaps between the curtains. The moon must be very visible tonight. “I didn't like that film. You know what, Deuce? We can't let Ace choose movies ever again.”

“Right,” he put his hands through the strands of his hair. And then laughs at the memory he proceeds to describe you. “...When I was younger, my mother would often kiss me on the forehead whenever I felt I was too upset to sleep. I often tried to watch horror movies on my own so I could talk about them later at school, but... Haha. Anyway, somehow it always worked because I would go back to bed later and then—I think—I would fall asleep…”

“...Do you want to kiss me goodnight?”

“Ah-! N-no! That's not what I meant!” he protests. And then tries to look at you but finds it impossible. “Ah... Was that a request or a question?”

“An offer of a lifetime.”

Deuce remains in his bed for a few more moments but finally gets up. He pushes the curtains a little more and the room becomes much brighter. You could now see the games scattered on the floor that you had vowed to clean up in the morning, the outline of your beds and finally, and most importantly, yourselves.

He approaches you, quietly and carefully. You wait with a smile that you try to hide. You straighten up, put your feet on the floor, but still sit on the bed as Deuce brings his fingers to your face, and touches it with care as if you were a porcelain doll. Or a dream and Deuce was willing to believe in both cases.

He brushes your hair from your forehead and holds loose strands with one hand; the other is placed on the back of your head. He leans in. You hear him hold his breath and feel warmer as he presses his lips to the top of your head. You are sure he must have sensed the scent of his shampoo (you had a good reason for that: you had forgotten to take your own with you) because he quivers subtly as he inhales the smell bashfully.

And he must also be glad that it was still dark in here because, when you raise your gaze, his head is titled, as he often does when conscious of his blushes.

“…Are you calmer?” He whispers the question.

You nod slowly. Deuce carefully, almost reluctantly, steps away from you and sits down on his bed. Although he is no longer beside you, you can still feel the memory of how warm his skin and lips were. You gently touch the spot on your head where he had placed his kiss.

“If we don't fall asleep in the next half hour, we're going to go get some late-night snacks,” you decide, as you lay down, and you even notice Deuce smiling.

“Okay,” he chuckles. “And we can watch a better movie. But now try to fall asleep.”

“If I fall asleep now, I'll regret it.”

“You will say something else in the morning, tired.”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #heartslabyul #heartslabyul x reader #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey x reader #trey clover x reader #cater x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce x reader #deuce spade x reader

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honey-flustered · 1 year

Text

Eddie Had A Little Lamb (MDNI +18)

Summary: Eddie is trying to be good and with your help, he could be exactly that. But Kas, on the other hand, thrives in all that is unholy and he’ll stop at nothing to bring you and Eddie to the dark side.

Kas!Eddie Munson x Virgin!Religious!Reader

A/N: This is a spicy piece of work. I hope I did this concept justice as this was a request. Please let me know what you guys think since it’s my first time writing kas!eddie. Thank you for reading and please enjoy!

Word Count: 8.7k+

Warnings/Tags: Dub con elements, religious themes, extreme blasphemy, possessive!kas and eddie, innocent!reader, whole big bag of (fluff, smut, angst) mentions of mental health, dom!kas, dom!eddie, use of “daddy” and “master”, corruption/innocence kink, finger sucking, drooling, dumbification, belly bulge, blood kink/drinking, p in v (unprotected), loss of virginity, minor monsterfucking elements, mention of traffic light bdsm system, biting, scratching, face fucking, spit kink, dacryphilia, oral sex (m & f recieving), small breeding kink, creampie, cum eating, doggystyle, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, use of fox tail butt plug, anal play, reader referred to as “lamb” “bunny” “angel” , some violence, mentions of minor character death/disappearance

There’s a reason why lambs are considered a symbol of innocence. The poor things nary a clue when they’re brought to the offering table, gloriously prepared to be slaughtered for the pleasure of man.

Kas pities you. For that was exactly what you were in his eyes: A poor little lamb. Eddie hadn’t realize that he was currently wrapping you up prettily—with a bow on top—to be presented before the beast. Nonetheless, Kas will happily accept this offering. For now, he will wait. He’ll let you come closer until it’s too late to turn and run.

“Eddie,” You say, taking his hands in yours with a sincere smile. “I’m glad you’ve decided to come to Bible study. What brought you hear tonight?”

Aside from atoning for my sins, you mean?

“I wanna keep trying with this religion thing. Maybe become a better person. I don’t know if I’ll ever believe in God, to be honest with ya,” He admits. “But I’m hoping to prove everyone wrong about me. I’m more than what’s on the surface.”

Eddie’s consumed with guilt. He’s not been himself lately. A few nights ago, Eddie walked home from Gareth’s home, considering it was not much far from where he live. He was randomly attacked by a rabid bat. Bitten and disoriented, he soon blacked out. When he awoke, he found himself covered blood, the metallic taste in his mouth. Then, the missing reports came in about a missing elderly man. Although Eddie was not certain, he believed to be responsible for the disappearance of that man.

Ever since then, he’s been doing all he could to suppress the appetite and that godforsaken voice. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. He was depraved, sick and twisted! That part of him was so far removed, he had a name for himself: Kas.

Usually, staying awake and alert was one way of stopping this undiscovered being within him. Of course, Eddie couldn’t always stay awake. So the next big thing was to sign up for the local church’s mentorship program in which young adult church members assisted the ‘lost’.

“You’re just misunderstood. Sometimes people are afraid of things they don’t understand,” You smile. “Like you must be terrified coming to a place like this. I’m sure everything you heard today sounded a bit foolish to you. I get that everyone outside the congregation thinks we’re all ‘Jesus freaks’ but we’re all just trying to understand things, ya know.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve been called a freak, too. That never stop me from wanting to join the program. Although, I can admit that this bible study thing’s not my style.”

“I’m really happy you did come though. You usually say you’ll come when I invite you but don’t turn up,” You began.

Well, it’s not like he actively tried to avoid. He’d come every day if it meant that he got to look at you. When he was partnered up with you for the mentorship program, it was as if he’s one the lottery. But of course, Kas took a liking to you as well only his desires for you were beyond inappropriate. Kas planned to ruin you. So Eddie avoids you as much as he can all so that he can protect you.

“It’s just really nice to see the effort you make towards this.” You finish, cleaning up the desk of books and placing them on the shelf.

“I get cold feet sometimes,” Eddie explains, stacking the chairs away. “Crowds and events also aren’t my thing. But I figured it would make you happy and since you’ve worked so hard steering me in the right direction…all I can do is try.”

You nod. “So are going to do prayer at your place or mine?”

“Yours, I guess.” Eddie says.

Let her come over to our place, idiot.

No, we’re going to her place that way you won’t be able to try any tricks while her parents are there.

“Oh, umm, I was kinda hoping you’d say your place? I know I suggested mine but my father is little overbearing and I didn’t want to just invite myself to your place.”

“I’m fine if your father’s a little overbearing. My Uncle Wayne was at one point of my life.”

“No, you don’t understand. I love my father but he is ‘spy-level crazy’ overbearing. You’d probably never show up again or would ever like to speak with me either. I would know. It’s happened plenty times before.”

“O-okay. We can do it at my place. Just a little warning, Wayne’s working a late shift so…we’ll be alone.”

“Oh…t-that’s okay. We’ll be on our best behavior.” You laugh nervously.

“Exactly.” He joins in on the awkward laugh.

After cleaning up the church library, the two of you got in his van and head to his home. Eddie’s never been to your home and vice versa but he knew you came from an affluent community. He could only imagine what you must think seeing the trailer park.

“Well, um, this is my home.” Eddie says, holding open the door for you. He’s never self-conscious about showing off his place. Couldn’t give a shit about materialism. But he wanted to impress you.

“It’s lovely,” You smile, having a seat on the couch when you recognized that some pillows and a comforter. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is this where you sleep? I didn’t mean to—“

“Oh no, no. You’re fine. Sit wherever you like. My Uncle actually sleeps there. My room’s down the hall,” He clears his throat. “W-we could go in there and do the session there. T-the prayer session.”

“Yeah, t-that sounds good.” You follow his lead.

Eddie thanks the imaginary man in the sky for reminding him to clean his room today. He nervous shifts on his feet while your eyes scanned the room, smiling.

“Your room’s really cool.” You compliment.

“Really? I’m sure your room way cooler.” And bigger.

You look at his red electric guitar hanging up on the dresser. “Whoa, I’ve never seen it up close before.”

“You’ve seen me play it?”

“Oh yeah, I watched you perform one time. My parents don’t allow me to listen to that kind of music but…my friend and I snuck into a show one time after you put the fliers all over the school. You did really great.”

The lamb’s got a naughty side.

Eddie disregards him. “Thanks. The band and I have been working on those songs for years.”

“I’d like to hear more music like that sometime. All my cassettes are of gospel music.” You say, almost sounding annoyed.

“I can fix you a mixtape of all the songs I like. Then, you could tell me all about the songs you do and don’t like during community service.”

“That would be great! But I’m not sure if I can bring it home with me. I don’t even own my own walkman. I share it with my sister and she loves to hog it.”

“Sure you can. You can even borrow mine. We could keep it as our little secret.” Eddie says, putting a finger to his lips.

You laugh. “Okay. Why not? I can live on the edge sometimes.”

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, patting the seat beside him. You sit, a small gap between the two of you. He could tell that you were uncomfortable, you hands crushed between your thighs as you avoided his stare.

Why don’t you get a little closer to her? She wants you to. I can feel it.

You’re full of shit, man.

“Should we pray now? Or would you like to talk about the study’s topic?” You asked.

“Not even sure what tonight’s topic was even about?” Eddie admitted.

“It was about repentance. How sincere we are in regretting our wrongdoings. We can do a prayer where we apologize for our sins. It doesn’t have to be out loud if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I’m not sure how to do that.”

“You mean, prayer?”

“Yeah, like do I just talk?”

“Exactly,” You giggle, sliding off his bed to lower onto your knees before him. Eddie’s breath hitches at the sight. This was going to do wonders for his late night fantasies. You, being on your knees and looking up at him through your long lashes was going to do wonders for his late night fantasies. Fuckkkk. Was he really going to pop a boner right now? In front of your fine ass. “You clasp your hands together like your high-fiving yourself and you just talk to him as if you were talking with me. Don’t hold back either say everything. Then, at the end you say ‘amen’. It’s kind of like hanging up the call.”

“Should I keep my eyes open?”

“It’s preferably better if they’re closed,” You lay a hand on his thigh. “You’re probably shy. Not a problem. I’ll just pray for the both of us. Then, next time, you’ll join me.” You squeeze your eyes shut and whisper a prayer.

A lust for a taste. Just one taste.

His legs move on their own accord, standing up so that he’s towering over your small frame. You smelled so fucking incredible. Just…one…taste.

Eddie’s heart beats rapidly, vision blurring as he began to see double. You were oblivious to his inner turmoil, peacefully praying away.And just like that it felt like Eddie had taken the backseat in his own mind.

“Amen,” You finish, looking up at him in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t feel your presence in front of me. You move as swift as a mouse.”

“And you as gentle as a lamb.” He smirks.

This wasn’t Eddie speaking. No! The being known as Kas has taken over. Eddie being so sleep deprived, he didn’t have a fighting chance against him.

You stand on your feet, checking your watch.“Oh, no. How is it already time to go? We hardly got anything done. I’ll have to go. My parents are probably anticipating my arrival by now.”

“It’s only 7 pm, bunny. Is it your bedtime?”

“I can assure you I’m a big girl who sleeps at anytime I please,” You chuckle. “It’s supper time. My family always eats together.

“You should call your parents. Tell them you’ll be staying for a bit. I’m sure they wouldn’t want to keep you from a lost soul who’s eager to learn about the Lord.”

“I-I…I’m not sure if they’d be okay with that. My father was on the fence about me even coming here. Mother had to defend me.”

“Mama does know best. She knows her little girl wouldn’t do anything Jesus wouldn’t do,” Kas winks before holding out the house phone. “Go on. Let make the call. It’ll only be for one more hour.”

No, Kas! Fuck you! Let her go home!

“O-okay,” You take the phone from his hands. “I’ll just take it in the living room in case the conversation needs to be said in private.”

“Do whatever you wish.” He bows, holding open the bedroom door for her. She exits.

Kas!

If Kas weren’t so proud, he’d laugh. The game of chess has been set in motion. Striding over to his bedroom’s dresser, he looks at the reflection in the mirror.

“You rang?” He smiles a toothy grin, his top canines extended.

“Stay away from her,” Eddie hisses. “She doesn’t deserve to be treated like your meal.”

“Then, you shouldn’t have starved me,” Kas grunts angrily. “Besides…she looks good enough to sink my teeth into.”

“I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I’m not gonna hurt her. At least…not in a way she wouldn’t like.”

“Good luck with that. There’s no way her parents will let her stay.”

You walk in, prompting Kas to turn and face you. A smile on your face as you too your seat back in his bed.

“After a some convincing, my father says that I can stay for just one more hour.”

“That’s fantastic.” Kas says in feigned excitement, silently gloating in his head.

“Although,” You play with your thumbs. “I kind of told a little white lie. I told my father that we weren’t left unsupervised.”

“Probably for the best.”

“I feel so guilty, though. I rarely lie to my Father unless it’s reasonable and even then I still end up telling him. I told him I snuck out to see your concert. It’s probably why he doesn’t…” You quiet down.

“Doesn’t…like me?” Kas finishes.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“No, I understand, bunny,” He sits down, scooting closer to you. “Your father’s justified in wanting to protect you from me.”

You smile. “Why would I possibly need to be protected from you? You’re sweet, funny, and interesting. You couldn’t hurt a fly.”

Kas smiles at her cluelessness. “Think about it, bunny. Why do you think your father would be worried you being alone with me?”

“Because it’s late?” You say, softly.

“Because he was once my age. Because he could only imagine that i’ll be doing exactly the things he used to do with your mother before they were married.”

“Y-you mean fornication. But that’s a sin.”

“Sinning’s a part of human nature. It says so in the bible: We’re all born sinners and what not.”

“You’re right about that. B-but church folk say that marriage is important first to enjoy things of that nature.”

“What if I told you, you don’t have to marry…to fuck?”

The emphasis on the swear word sends chills down your spine. You bite your lip to keep him from hearing your heavy breathing.

“I mean, come on. Would you really wanna marry a bad lay? With each new generation, sex is more liberating, raunchier and nastier. It doesn’t always have to come with strings attached. That’s what makes it sooo fascinating. You get to fuck whoever and whenever. Why enforce these principles on yourself when there’s always something new to learn about it. Don’t you like fun?”

You swallow hard. “I do but lots of things could be fun aside from…sinning.”

“What could be more fun than feeling the best pleasure you could ever imagine?”

“Going to church could be just as pleasurable.”You try smiling again to keep him from thinking he’s affecting you.

“It could…but you wouldn’t know that for sure unless you’ve been fucked? But not just regular fucking. Hard, fast. The kind that takes your breath away and makes you feel like you’re dying a little.”

“I experience that above worldly pleasures and the physical. That’s why this mentorship program is out in place, Eddie. It shows us how to seek happiness outside of those things. It’s like a spiritual awakening.”

“I can give you that with just my fingers alone, bunny. You don’t need to talk to some imaginary man in the sky when you’ve got one right here willing to show you things that’ll rock your world.”

“Like what?” You weren’t sure why you kept this conversation going. It was supposed to be about God. About today’s bible study topic. Not…this! But your curiosity got the best of you. You were like a scientist poking and prodding for your latest discovery.

“Have you ever played with yourself?” Kas asks, eyes ruby red. You being so lost in his trance, you couldn’t bother to realize that you were staring into the eyes of a monster.

“You mean, touch myself… down there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yes,” You breathe. Somehow, you don’t feel embarrassed to admit this to a guy you’ve had a crush on since the 9th grade, never acting on your feelings because your world had never aligned up until this point. “But not directly.”

“What do you mean, bunny?”

“I’ve never put a finger inside or touch there at all when I’m pleasuring myself because I’d feel too guilty if it were by my own hand. So I…” You look away and trail off, afraid to continue.

“Go on. Don’t be shy.” Kas encourages, a hand on your knee.

“I…shove my pillow between my legs and rub against it.”

“That sounds hot as fuck.” He shift closer to you, his knee touching yours.

“It’s shameful.” You whisper.

“It’s natural. I get that feeling, too. You just want some release. You deserve that. Don’t you, bunny?”

“I’m not sure.” You clamp your thighs together, bringing his attention to the hand that’s rested on your knee.

He slithers a hand up your soft, supple thighs and squeezes. You let out a quiet squeak. “I think you do. You’ve been such a good girl.”

His hand move further up before wedging between your inner thigh. “Tell ya what…maybe I can teach you some things, too. It could be my gift of appreciation to you.”

Kas stalks over you, eyes staring into yours while you gradually fell against Eddie’s pillow.

Don’t you fucking dare, Kas!

You’re shaking and Kas places a hand over your heart, feeling it pound against his palm. It was so delicious. You are just so full of life. And blood. Innocent, pure blood.

“So you’re a virgin?”

You nod.

“I can change that.”

He’s being weirdly crass! You thought to yourself.

And yet, you throbbed for him. Your hands have the sudden urge to pull his face down to yours for a passionate kiss.

But Kas makes the first move, lowering his face above yours. The guitar pick necklace dangling above you slots itself between your breasts when his lips are just inches away from yours. You close your eyes, feeling the lightest of touch only to quickly dissipate before you could even register its presence. You hear a pained groan, opening your eyes to see him rubbing his temple, eyes screwed shut.

“Eddie?”

“Sorry about that, bunny. Got a real pain in my head head just now,” Kas laughs. “I’m ready to continue if you are.”

“Actually, do you think you could take me home,” You reach for your bag beside you, standing on your unsteady feet. “This was…a night.”

Kas exhales deeply. “Why not?”

He sluggishly reaches for the keys of the van, leading you out the door to his van. The rest of the car ride was quiet but the exchanging spoke loud enough. When Kas arrived to your home, you gathered your things slowly almost like you were thinking of saying something.

“Umm, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” Kas says, nonchalantly.

“Okay,” You say, discouraged. “Goodnight.”

You pull the door handle but it wouldn’t budge. After couple of tries, Kas leans across your seat.

“Sometimes, you gotta give it a little shake.” He strongarms the handle, popping the door open.

He could here your breathing above him, you really were inexperienced. The slightest touch or breeching of your personal space and you’re flustered.

Kas decides to have fun with this, making sure you can feel his breath ghosting over you skin as he gradually looks up at you. When you felt it tickle against your neck, you shudder. Just as he’d hoped: goosebumps light up your skin.

“Goodnight.” Kas finally says.

“Mm, yeah.” You rush out, going up to the front door. He waits for you to enter and he’s off, cursing himself. You were a lot harder of a catch.

But it wasn’t lost on him that you’d been rubbing your thighs together. You probably couldn’t wait to get back to back to your room to hump your pillow until sunset. Kas prides himself in this thought.

“Thanks to you she thinks I’m some perv.” Eddie complaints.

Kas groans. “Don’t you have an off switch? Besides a pervert is exactly what you are. Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking of fucking her, too? I didn’t hear you once complain when I asked her about playing with herself.”

“You won’t be coming near her again, Kas. I fucking swear it. From now on, I’ll be serious with my avoidance of her.”

“We’ll see how long that’ll last. Hell, she’ll probably come looking for us first after the time I just gave her.” Kas winks through the rearview mirror.

Eddie could feel himself slipping into his own mind, trying to find solid ground. If he didn’t figure out a way to find the balance within himself, Kas will take full control. And who knows how many people’s lives could be at risk.

—————

Eddie’s ashamed. After your confessions last night, he touched himself, imagining the way you’d sound moaning as your wet pussy dragged along your pillow. He imagined what words you’d say when you climax. Would you call for God? Would you swear? Would you call out for his name?

The next thing he knew, his hands were down his boxers, stroking his cock and sniffing the parts of the sheets where you were lain against. It was pathetic. Desperate. He hated to admit that Kas had been right. Eddie wanted to fuck you hard and deep, making you take every inch of him.

The next day—as Kas predicted—you were actively searching for him. Eddie made sure that whenever you were entering a room, he was exiting.

He’s been successful for the most part. The occasional times where he would run into you, he’d quickly rush off explaining to you how he’s needed in a different department of the church. But despite that, he was at ease knowing that you’d be safe from him.

That was up until he was reminded of bible study. In which, Eddie had to sit in a room of close proximity to you. You’d try to sit next to him and he’d pounce at the very moment the hear your body radiates against his skin.

He needed to think fast. So when the meeting begun, Eddie made sure to sit in a chair with the seats around him filled. Every now and then, he’d catch your stare. Especially, when the two of you shared a momentary smile at one another when the lead went on about the “devil worshipping game of Dungeons and Dragons”. Once the meeting concluded, Eddie’s attempts to walk out the door when the lead begs him to stay to clean up again along with You like the other day.

He reluctantly agrees, starting in a corner of the room far from you. Every now and then, he’d catch himself staring. Did you have to dress goddamn stunning today? Like a goddamn angel. It wasn’t fair.

You pretend as if you needed something in the section he was hiding in, casually walking around him. “Hey! I was looking to speak with you today.”

“Really? Oh man, I’m sorry.” Eddie wasn’t much of an actor.

“You seem like you’re very busy today. It’s nice to see that you being so active here.”

To avoid all my problems, of course.

“Everyone’s been talking about it,” You continue. “Nobody could have seen it coming. Eddie Munson, church goer.”

“Well, no one’s as shocked as my friends. They still don’t believe it, pictures and all,” Eddie laughs before clearing his throat for a more serious topic. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was being a dick—sorry I mean, jerk.”

You look at him strange.

“Did I say something wrong?” Eddie asks.

“No. It’s just funny that you’re apologizing for cursing,” You giggle. “Yesterday…you were sort of a sailor mouth.”

“Oh, right. I’m not sure what came over me.“

“To be quite honest, I kinda liked it,” You smile, looking down in your lap. “Everyone’s so formal and proper all the time. It’s nice to hear something…different.”

“Oh…” Eddie’s floored.

“Anyway, how’d you like today’s study?”

“Not my favorite, honestly. They talked so much shit about D’n’D being ‘demonic’.” Eddie says, putting on a gravelly demon voice.

“I’m really sorry about that. I know it’s a sensitive. It was very admirable of you not to interject your points even though you could have very well done so with no judgment. In my opinion, it’s only a harmless game. I’ve been curious to play it.”

“You should come by my club sometime, then. I can teach you all that I know.”

“I’d love for you to teach me.” Your smile fades when you’re reminded of the implications of your statement. Eddie catches this, nervously twirling the rings on his fingers. Neither of you meeting each other’s gaze.

You clear your throat, breaking the silence. “Eddie…I have a few questions.”

“Sure, angel. What’s up?”

“Is there something you’re hiding from me? I want you to know that whatever it is that you feel you can’t tell me…you really could tell me. I may not be a great liar but I can keep secrets.”

Yes, actually. I have a lust for blood because I’m a vampire with an alter personality that attacks humans for their blood and now we’re competing to claim you. : Is what he wished to say… instead he simply puts it at a, “It’s complicated. But I don’t think I have much to say.”

“It’s just that you’ve been so different lately. I’ve never know you to remotely care what people think of you. Or go to church meetings and want to learn about the Bible.”

“People aren’t born religious, they find their way. I did.”

“Yeah but it’s like you’re doing it to make up for something. Whatever it is…you should know that you don’t have to deal with it on your own. You don’t have to avoid me. And if it feels like I’m not forcing you into doing this program in anyway—.”

“I chose to sign up for this. None of this is because I’m force to do this. If anything I like being around you, I’m just going through a lot of stress. It’s hard learning to be more responsible and in control.”

“I know what you mean,” You laugh. “I feel like I nearly lose control all the time. Especially…when I’m with you.”

His eyes widen at your bold admittance.

“Yesterday, I was on the edge, waiting to go over. It’s like that whenever I’m near you. Like, I’m hanging on by a thread that just gets keeps getting thinner and thinner, anticipating the moment it snaps.”

“That’s exactly how I feel.” Eddie says, feeling as if a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders.

“Is it wrong that I wish for you to teach me those things you said you would? To think such sinful thoughts right here on church grounds?”

He swallows audibly, adam’s apple bobbing. “I wouldn’t think so.”

“I’ve always liked you, Eddie. I like you. Not whatever constructed version of you that you’re trying to build to appease the masses. I’m interested in you and the things you like and how excited you are when you get to share them with someone,” You close the space between your bodies. “When I think about you…I can’t stop the ache I feel between my legs. No matter how many times I touch myself at night.”

“Oh, angel,” Eddie breathes. “You’re gonna break me down.”

“What I feel is so intense that all I could do is touch myself to get some release. You were right. I don’t want to deny myself of what I need. I need you.”

“I need you, too. So fucking bad. I could never get you out of my head.”

Your eyes light up. “Really?”

“How can I? You’re amazing. And you’re really pretty and nice and you smell like a dream. Whenever I look at you, I just wanna hold you and kiss you.”

“I can’t stand it. I want you now.” You whine, grabbing the collar of his jacket to press your lips to his.

He’s more confident in his kiss with you, tongue running over your bottom lip. You grant him the permission to explore your mouth, deepening the kiss. You even tasted incredible, too.

Eddie feels as if he’s on top of the world and he hopes Kas could see him now.

That’s checkmate, asshole.

You break the kiss, a line of spit connecting your lips before you lap at it with your tongue. A heat creeping up on your lips when you remembered exactly where you were.

“I hope these old cameras don’t work.” Although, something within you says the opposite.

“Come on.” Eddie takes your hand, leading you to the back corner of the library.

He turns you over, your back against the bookshelf as he starts off by kissing your neck. He, then, resumes moving his lips over your pouty ones, his skillful tongue works its wonders. When his hands reach your butt, he cups it and uses the leverage to glide your clothed core over his denim-covered thigh.

“First lesson in pleasuring yourself, if you’ve got a partner…use ‘em.” Eddie says, grinding you down against him causing you to moan out.

You cover a hand over your mouth afraid that you’re being too loud. He quickly removes your hand away.

“It’s just us, angel. I wanna hear you.”

“But what if someone walks in?”

“Don’t care. Show me how you play with that pussy when your at home. Ride my thigh.” His hand collides hard on your ass, the sting hurts so good.

“Please.” You rasp, rutting against his leg like a dog in heat while he sucked on your neck.

He wanted to taste you so badly. Drink of your nectar as if you were the very source of life itself. So, once he felt like he’d gotten his fill, he drops down to his knees before you. You were confused at first until you felt his hands creep up your dress, finding the band of your panties.

It was a blessing you decided to wear nice underwear today.

He slides your pink thong down your legs, hiking the skirt of your dress around your hips. The look on his face was enough to make you feel like a goddess. His hooded eyes, fluttering as he watch your honeyed arousal seep from your puffy lips.

“It so damn perfect.” Eddie groans. Not wasting a second longer, he dives in. His tongue licks a long stripe up and down your slit before taking in the sensitive nub between his pursed lips.

Your knees begin to buckle underneath you, the only thing keeping you up is his hand on your abdomen.

“Ngh..ooo please! Eddieee.” You whine, biting your lip to keep from screaming. In that moment, there was no turning back for you. You’ve now experienced the kind of pleasure your pillow could never compare to.

You almost felt sorry for denying yourself this kind of bliss. But it was worth the wait because now you get to indulge. And indulge you did, grinding your sodden cunt against his face. His arms wrap around your thick thighs, pulling you into him as if you weren’t close enough.

Eddie kisses your pussy like does when he kissing the lips on your face, savoring the feeling against his. He collects your juices on his tongue then spits back onto your throbbing pussy before sucking it off again. It was absolutely filthy. Something you’d never seen which was enough to make you cum hard at the sight alone.

Your walls clench and unclench within you, desperately needing to be filled. As if he’d read your mind, he slips in a thick digit into you. Then, another. You gasp at the sensation. It was foreign but it intensified your orgasm to the point where you reached for the books behind you to ground yourself into reality, knocking them to the ground.

You were like a work of Michelangelo. He watches intensely as you cry out and writhe against his mouth and fingers. The sounds of his moans combined with the suction noises would have anyone fooled that he was currently eating a 5-star cuisine.

“Oh, yess, daddy.” You let out a guttural groan, the whites of your eyes shown.

Eddie liked the sound of that, laughing wickedly against your thigh. He knew he’s won, taking you down piece by piece until you crumbled. He rubs your clit until your shaking from overstimulation, pulling his hand away to breathe again.

He smirks. The little tease. You smile back, panting. Your hair’s probably a mess from all the thrashing.

You expected him to slide your underwear back up your legs. Instead, he sniffs them and groans, pocketing them.

“Mine now.” He claims with a smile.

“You’ve definitely rocked my world.” You praise, now that you could form a coherent sentence.

He chuckles, helping you straighten yourself out. “So did you. I’ve never been so turned eating pussy. Nearly came in my pants like some prepubescent kid.”

“I want more.” You jump him, kissing with tongue and tasting yourself.

He pulls away, cradling you in his arms. “Whoa, whoa. Let me take you out on a date first. Let’s take things a little slow.”

————

He was no better than Kas. Eddie was just as thirsty for you. Just as much to credit for your corruption. There was no slowing down between the two of you. Ever since you’d began dating, things have been intense.

There was lots of kissing for sure and Eddie loved going down on you every chance he got. He was a addicted to your taste and the way you sounded, determined to make you scream his name whenever the two of you were alone.

You’d asked Eddie to go to the sex shop with you because tonight was the night. You and Eddie have talked about it for these past few weeks now. He was going to take your virginity. Like you’d always dreamed about.

You were looking for your first time to be somewhat experimental but also as loving as possible. You knew Eddie would provide that. But there wasn’t just Eddie Munson who’d partake in your christening…Kas would soon make his entrance.

“You should buy that,” The little devil in Eddie’s mind says, drawing Eddie’s attention to the foxtail anal plug hung up on display. “It’ll train her ass just right for what I plan on doing to her tonight.”

“Fuck off. I’m not letting you get in on this,” Eddie bites. “She’s mine.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come out to play when our girl’s begging for our cock?” Kas says, smugly.

“Get the fuck out of my head, Kas. You’ve caused enough trouble in my life.”

“You can deny me all you wish but it changes nothing. I am your most primal desires and truest of nature. I am you,” Eddie could feel himself weakening. Kas growing in his awareness. “I have you to thank, though. You prepared the little lamb nice and ready for me to partake. Maybe I’ll let you take the reigns…eventually.” Kas chuckles, darkly.

“Eddie,” You skipped giddily over to him. “I think I’m ready to go now. I didn’t get much other than some condoms and lubricant like you said.”

“What do you think of this?” Kas says, picking up the foxtail, curling it around your neck as you look in the mirror.

You giggle. “What is that?”

“Oh, you’ll find out.”

—————

You made it to Eddie’s trailer and your nerves manifested into butterflies aimlessly fluttering in your tummy. This was going to happen. You were going to lose your virginity to Eddie Munson. But as excited as you were…you couldn’t bring yourself to step out of his van.

A part of you felt guilty. Like you wanted to call it off in that moment. You’ve been saving yourself for marriage but all your views and moral values were slowly unraveling. Was God looking down at you right now?

“Hey, bunny?” He says warmly, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Something wrong?”

Your eyes look into his and suddenly you’re skeptical of the man before you. His pale skin contrasted with the darkening around his eyes which in return highlights the ruby red of his irises. “H-hey, um, Eddie?”

You say the name itself in the form of a question, which prompts him to catch onto your suspicion. And yet he smiles. “Yeah?”

“What if I were to say that I’m having second thoughts about this?”

“That’s normal. But that’ll pass. I promise I’ll make this enjoyable for you.”

You grip the edges of your skirt. “It’s just that…it feels so different. Y-you feel different again.”

The moonlight over his faces leaves one side lit brightly against his skin while the other half of his face was shaded in the dark.

“What makes you say that?”

“There’s something about your energy that’s… shifted. And your eyes—It’s like that night all over again. The night we almost….” You swallow the hard lump in your throat. “You’re not Eddie, are you? W-who are you?”

The corners of his lips curl. “You’re a clever little lamb, aren’t you? That explains why you ran off that night. Do you always run from danger?”

You frigid in your seat, watching his every move.

“My name is Kas. Think of me as an enhanced version of lover boy who’s, by the way, watching us through these eyes. Right now. Tonight…I’ll be filling in for him by filling in you.”

“You,” You whisper, pointing at him. “You’re the one that’s been influencing me and Eddie to do these unholy things. You’re possessing him.”

“Bunny, you’ve gotta stop reading that fairytale crap. It rots your brain. I’m no demon,” His fangs extend and you’re scared shitless. “I have no part in controlling Eddie’s emotions or yours. He’s been wanting to fuck you since he saw you. I couldn’t blame him. You’re so sexy.” He growls, leaning in.

You hold up the rosemary around your neck. “I’m protected by God.”

He smirks, reaching out to squeeze the pendant between his index and thumb. He bends the copper in half. You’re shocked to see that he was able to hold it without it negatively affecting him in some way. “Your God can’t save you. No one can. And with my cock down your throat, no one’ll hear you scream either.”

“What do you want?” You hiccup, a tear trickling down your face.

“To fornicate.” He mocks.

You try pulling at the door handle but to know avail, resorting to climbing into the back of the van. His manic cackling is a form of torment.

“You’re exactly where I want you, bunny.” Kas chortles, hopping out the driver’s side to yank open the double doors of the van. “I’ve always wanted to pop your cherry under the stars.”

You kick at him but he’s quicker than you, catching your legs and pulling you towards him. He forces your legs open for his body to stand in between. Climbing over you, he crashes his mouth over yours, teeth knocking in the impact. Your mouth opens at the force, allowing him bite down on your tongue and draw blood. You yelp out in pain, which dissipates into pleasure as he suckles on it.

You’re grinding your core into his hardening erection. He pulls away, looking between your bodies.

“Would you look at that? Looks like our girl wants me, too, Eddie.”

“Eddie?” You stopped rolling your hips in embarrassment, prompting him to slap the side of your thigh.

“Hey! Did I tell you to stop?”

“But Eddie…” You whimper.

“Awww, you scared he’s gonna be mad your humping my leg like a desperate little whore? He’ll be a lot more pissed at me for the things I’ll be doing to you.”

He thrusts his hips against you, pressing his erection into you. You whine out. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

“Don’t be. He’s right here with us. He’ll feel every part of this. I just get to take the lead,” He pulls himself up on his knees. “Would you like to see what’ll be splitting you apart?”

You nod. You’re not sure why you’re flooding in your underwear at such graphic language but the thought of being impaled by him forcefully was more than inciting.

His shirt is the first to go, chest and abdomen riddled with large scars that made you question his survival of whatever attacked him. You follow his happy trail, his hands just above it before they find their way to his belt. The metal clanking of his belt fills the silence then the quiet zip of the zipper.

He straddles your upper body, the crotch area close enough to your face. “Pull ‘em down.” Kas demands.

With shaky hands, your fingers hook around the waistband of his boxers and pants, lowering them slowly until his cock springs out and hovers over your face with a bounce. You eyes widened in pure horror and fascination. Not only was it huge but it was freakish. Two toned with a rose pink tip, it jumped and wiggled as if it had a mind of its own. As if it were a tendril-like entity.

“Oh my god.” You squeak in shock.

“He looks happy to see you,” Kas smiles. “Why don’t you have a taste?”

You reluctantly stick your tongue out, licking a small strip up the tip. You taste the saltiness of his precum on your tongue then rest your head back against the layers of comforters.

“What was that? Suck on it.” He demands, growing impatient.

“But I don’t know how.”

“I’ve seen the way you eat popsicles, sweetheart. You’ll do just fine. Here, I’ll even help you,” Gripping your hair forward, he sheaths himself down your throat. The entity of a cock, wriggling inside your throat and forcing you to gag. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” He moans.

Kas forces your head down on him over and over. Your trapped between his legs so there was no running. The gurgling sound beneath him eggs him on as he fuck your face roughly. He yanks your hair back for a moment, a thick glob of spit dripping from the tip. You take in as much as air as you could.

“Look how pretty.” He pulls down on your hair, forcing your mouth up and open. Sticking his tongue out, he lets the saliva trail down onto your awaiting tongue.

You aren’t given enough time to compose yourself. Kas shoves his length down your throat once more, adamant on choking you with it. At one point he pinches your nose, using his handle around it to push and pull you down around him. You could hardly breathe but you would not allow yourself to tap out, wanting to please him.

He lets go of his hold around your nose and you learn to breathe through your nostrils, bobbing your head back and forth.

“Now, you’re getting the hang of it,” He says, breathlessly. “Here’s your reward.”

He collects the mass of spit drip between your mouth and his cock. You feel your panties push to the side and then that familiar pressure within you. You clamp around his fingers immediately.

“Ooo, yes please.” Your eyes roll back into your skull like always.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” He groans, pounding his finger into you so deep that you could feel the band of his rings tap against your clit. “What do you say, bunny?”

“Thank you, Master.” Your hips lift up to meet his thrusting fingers, your hand curled around his thick length as much as you could fit to jerk him off.

He circles his finger around something inside you that you hadn’t known you’ve possessed, flicking the trigger repeatedly until the sounds of your wetness echo in the vacuum space.

“I’m close…gonna cum.” Your legs are shaking as you pant for dear life. The pressure building more and more. “Oh god.”

“Not god, bunny. God couldn’t give you this much pleasure.”

You whine and babble, tears running down your face. Then, you’re gasping, eyes fluttering. This was going to be an intense one. One that scared you so much that you nearly ruined it on your own trying to suppress but Kas’s fingers knew how to draw your orgasm when you begged for it to retreat. No way could you handle this and come out sane.

“Unnh, mmm.” Now your toes are curling, arousal seeping and just before you snap…he pulls his fingers.

You’re hyperventilating. You hated him. You wanted to stop this. To give up. How could he be so evil?!

You cry out your frustration and he’s amused, studying features while you threw a tantrum beneath him.

“I was going to let you finish but then I remembered you tried running away from me…again,” He chides. Yet, now you cry and beg for me. So what is it? Are you mine or not?”

Your chest rises and falls, hot and angry tears streaming down your cheeks. “You said I deserve release.”

“Then, prove yourself worthy. Move me.” He smirks.

“I wanna cum,” You groan, throwing your head back in frustration. “Wanna cum on your fingers, Master. Please. I belong to you. I’m yours.”

“Alright, bunny.” He coos, shoving his fingers into you again. And It’s like he’d never left. The pressure is there again and somehow there’s layers upon layers of it. One push of a beckoning finger against the pearl within you and you’re gushing endlessly.

You’re wetting the comforter beneath you, calling out into the night without a worry or care in mind as if he didn’t have neighbors. He doesn’t stop his ministrations and your convinced he’s trying to keep the trend of you screaming loud enough for people to think you’re being murdered.

“Just one more.” He says, wriggling against it again and you’re so sensitive that it feels like he’s broken something in you so that all you can do is leak out your arousal.

You tremble and jolt, eyes glossed over. Unaware of him sliding himself off you, it wasn’t until your legs are pried open again that brought you back. You look up at him, his pants fully removed.

“Take off your clothes. I’m done waiting.” He commands.

You oblige, shyly removing your clothing and garments until you lay bare before him. He looks you up and down, the entity-like cock stiffening in your direction.

You expected him to roll on a condom. Instead, he flip you around on your stomach.

“What about wearing a condom?” You panic.

“I’ll be filling you up with my cum. Think I could get your belly all round and swollen for me?”

You shook your head. “No, please.”

“You know how to end this. Say it and I’ll stop right now.”

He was right. Eddie had taught you the colors in case you needed things to stop or go slow. But you didn’t want any of that. You craved the full experience. You silently lift yourself on all fours, pushing your ass against him to show how badly you need him. It was going to hurt going in this way your first time but you weren’t a quitter.

“That’s my girl.” His hands squeezed around your waist, fingertips digging into your belly. The fat tip his cock at the entrance of your core.

You exhale, feeling the pressure and then just as he said…you’re being split apart. “Oh, ffff-“

“What’s that?” He teases, inching into you some more before snapping his hips forward. He’s officially fed you the entire length, stretching you beyond comprehension.

The wind is knocked out of you, your hand searching for something to grip. “Oh, fuck.” You squeak.

“Feels so fucking good ruining you.” He laughs, hitting sharp thrusts into you. Pound for pound, he elicits a noise out of you each time.

Kas smells the familiar scent of blood on his length and his bloodlust spikes. He fucks into you hard and your knees give out, now laying flat on your stomach.

“Oh, fuck, Master. Thank you.” You whine, biting into the sheet below you.

He’s relentless taking you as if you’ve been through this times before. No mercy. Your breath and words snatched away with each nudge of his tip teasing you g-spot. He pulls you up on your knees again and you feel a cool gel ooze onto your puckered hole. His thumb teases the entrance, circling around it until it’s replaced with a cold metal object that breaches through your anal cavity fully.

“Your ass looks so yummy, bunny.” Kas moans, spanking your ass roughly, yanking on the tail.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” You chant, overwhelmed by the feeling of both your holes being filled.

“Howl for me.” He says, slapping your ass again.

You don’t even have to try. You were doing that exact kind of noise. His neighbors would for sure voice their complaints.

You feel his cock doing something to your walls that seemed near impossible as it suctions itself to your walls, keeping him snug within you while it searched for its main target.

Kas grunts with every thrust going deeper and deeper into your channel until reached your cervix. You began to salivate, mind numb. Was he in your stomach? You didn’t have to wonder long, feeling him apply pressure near your belly button. Oh yeah, he’s deep in your guts. Rearrange them for a permanent indentation. He’s officially broken you and you’re not understanding your reality at this point.

“You’re squeezing me tight, bunny. You gonna come?”

“Uh-huh.” You pant, eyes crossed.

“Then, fucking ask for permission!”

“Please make me cum, Master. Please. I’ve been a good girl. I wanna cum!”

His fingers find your swollen nub, rubbing it back and forth . Your legs give out once again but he doesn’t miss a beat, stroking long and deep into your squelching core. Skin slapping against skin as your ass jiggled at the force.

“I’m cumming!” You cry out, squirting your juices at anything in within range. Kas takes this opportunity to bite into your neck and feed. It all felt so overwhelming. Now you’ve understood it why the french call it ‘a little death’. You’re positive that your heart’s stopped momentarily during your convulsions.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You bite down on your finger, he’s still drinking of your blood.

Kas’s warm seed shoots through your warm channel. He unsheathing his sharp fangs from your neck, mouth bloodied as he pumped away in your clenching core. His moans enough to make you whine again at the sound even though you’re pretty much spent.

Once, he’s sure he’s pushed his cum far enough into the deepest parts of you, he stills and slides out of you slowly. His dick is covered in a mixture of cum and blood. You mourn the loss of him as if his place was meant to be inside you. He collapses in the space next to you, caressing your backside and playing with the tail thats still plugged in you.

“How do you feel?” He asks.

You turn over on your back, panting. “I feel…like I just had a spiritual awakening.”

“Didn’t I tell ya.” He chuckles.

“I’m also really lightheaded.”

“That’s both the orgasm and the blood loss. You’ll need some food to replenish.”

You hum your understanding.

Kas curls into your side, pressing kisses into your shoulder. “Do you like me, too? I know you like Eddie but do you like me?”

“I do,” You nodded. “I like every part of you.”

“Even if there were some…darker parts that you don’t get to see.”

You had to think about that one, piecing together Eddie’s arrival to the church along with the very idea of Kas. “I think that because I like you…I’m willing learn to understand you. But I don’t want anyone to get hurt. So, if you ever need to feed, I am yours.”

He nudged his head into the crook of your neck. Kas choose not to tell you about the missing man, wanting to start a new clean slate with you. Maybe you had influenced him just as much as he did you.

“Hey, Bunny. Lover boy’s looking to cut into our time. So if I go, just remember that I fucked you better.”

You giggle, playing in his hair. Kas shuts eyes and reopens them and they’re the familiar brown cow eyes.

“Eddie?” You place soft kisses all over his face when you notice his glare. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, angel. But I won’t be so nice either.” He captures a hardened nipple between his teeth and bites down, making you scratch angry lines down his back. His mouth latches onto your creamy pussy, drinking of its essence. You were sensitive but you sigh in delight, hands in his hair as you arched off the van floor.

Should you be a lamb, then you shall serve yourself as a precious offering to your kings?

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