#eli sunday smut
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kinktober day viii. VIRGINITY - eli sunday
word count: ~1k
tags: breast play, creampie
masterlist | ao3
“Oh, look at that…”
Eli smiles with faux innocence as he gazes upon your sleeping form, donned in a thin nightgown for the hot summer nights. He had been late coming home, he could tell you tried your best to stay up for him– you weren’t even under the sheets, much less using a pillow. Curled up like a puppy, he thought.
The two of you had been married for only a week now, but churchly duties come first before any such… husbandly ones. Eli was saving that very duty for you tonight but of course, there was always a barrage of holy questions when he’d rather do anything else.
He rids himself of his shoes and unbuttons his shirt before kneeling next to your resting face, “Let me see your beautiful eyes, (Y/N).”
You stir, only waking as he squeezes your arm slightly. Eli grins as you squint sleepily at him and your smile grows, “Good morning…”
“Not quite, my love,” he gets up onto the bed, hovering over you. “I just wanted to see my pretty wife.”
Eli traces your cheek with a cold finger, and you shiver as you almost fully wake up, “I wanted to stay up for you, I wanted… tonight to be the night.”
His eyes widen, but his expression quickly turns to one of pure warmth, “I… have to admit, that was my true intention for waking you.”
You grin and pull him down by the collar to kiss him sweetly. He laughs into the embrace, but his hands begin to wander to caress your arms– rather roughly. It isn’t unwelcome in the slightest, you felt just as eager to ‘consummate your holy matrimony–’ that was Eli’s way of skirting around the subject, using the more flowery language to describe it. You would prefer ‘making love’ or, when in the proper mood, ‘fuck,’ but he’d have none of that as a man of God.
“I need you,” his hot breath tickles your ear as he makes his way to kiss gently at your neck, “Desperately, my love. May I?”
“Please, Eli.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice as he unceremoniously crawls off of you to rid himself of the rest of his clothing– he needs to be one with you, no manmade barriers would come between your embrace. You follow quickly, only needing to pull your white nightgown over your head and toss it onto the floor.
This wasn’t the first time he had seen your bare self, but this time, Eli practically jumped you once he saw your breasts, “Beautiful, so beautiful.”
You look down at his hardness grinding against you as he explores your body, and mewl at the idea of it being inside of you, “Please… get on with it, I can’t wait.”
“Just let me do this first, love.”
Eli leans down to lick at your breasts, nipping ever so lightly on their curves. You mewl at the time he takes with each of them, memorizing every aspect of them, lest he forget. His other hand kneads the other as he bites gently around your nipple– it feels amazing. Eli’s length continues to rock against your thigh, and you try your best to maneuver it closer to your own arousal.
His tongue flits over your hardened nipples one last time before he moves up to kiss your lips again, “Are you… ready?”
You nod rather quickly, the promise of pleasure after all these years of pining clouding whatever shame you could have possibly felt at this moment. The nervousness inside of you dulls when you see Eli smile as he kneels before your entrance– you feel loved and desired. You could see his hands shaking slightly when he positioned himself in front of you, the tip of his length so close, yet so far.
“I’m ready, Eli.”
He nods, trying to rid himself of any fears he may be holding onto. He pushes inside you, the wetness of your arousal only doing so much to lessen the stretch. You watch as his entirety fits inside of you– it is hypnotic as much as it is painful. A moan erupts from your throat as he’s sheathed to the hilt, Eli’s breathing ragged as ever.
“You’re so…” His eyes are shut tightly, “Warm, and tight, my love.”
Your hips move on their own, desperate to feel more of him. He begins to move slowly, in and out, little moans escaping his throat with even the most minor of movements. You spread your legs even further, wrapping them around his body– that’s when Eli’s eyes finally open to gaze upon the woman he married. His thrusts increase in pace as you meet his gaze, your blown-out bedroom eyes meeting his practically crazed ones.
“Oh, God,” Eli cries out as you clench down, “I don’t, oh– I don’t know if I’ll last.”
A part of you didn’t want him to. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”
Your gentle voice elicits a pathetic moan to crack out from his throat, and his head lolls back as he chases his promised pleasure. You move your hand down to rub at your unattended clit, wanting to see him fall apart– all because of you. Who could resist such a delectable power play?
Eli stutters in his movements, his expression looking almost pained– he was close, and you wanted him inside.
“Come on, come inside of me, love…”
His eyes shut yet again as he lets out a rather high-pitched moan as he releases inside of you– the warmth of it only encouraging you to get off quicker. You feel your peak approaching as you watch his chest, glistening with sweat, rise and fall rapidly. Eli watches with nothing but love in his eyes as you whimper into your orgasm.
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# insane request but could you perhaps draw eli sundays buldge in his church pants i am chewing through drywall rn
he's a gross little whore who gets too excited during church and needs to expel his demons in the privacy of a dirty hayloft or barn
#i need to rip him apart with my teeth#danonation#danocel#eli sunday#eli sunday x reader#eli sunday smut#there will be blood
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A New God
Hi.....I have nothing to say about this except it made me lightheaded writing it. I hope my own horniness has not blinded me into thinking this is good if it’s not. Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated.
Eli Sunday x Female Reader
Minors DNI
3.8K
Warnings: loooooots of talk about religion, sacrilege, PIV sex, mentions of masturbation, virginity loss (m), fingering, reader gets slapped once and not during sex, a brief mention of pain kink, kind of hate-fucking if you squint. Let me know if I've missed anything.
He’s standing in the doorway again.
There’s a summery breeze blowing through the open windows of the new school house, carrying the scent of wildflowers and cedar smoke and the promise of an end to the long and harsh winter. Your students are already jittery with excitement at the idea of a warm afternoon, and once they notice that your attention has been stolen from them, a ripple of laughter flows through the class. It’s not too great a loss; they wouldn’t want to learn anything in the last few minutes anyway.
“That will be all for today, students. You are dismissed.”
The room is filled with a loud cheer and the scrape of desk legs against the uneven wooden floor, and you try not to smile too widely at their simple expressions of joy. A few shout quick thank yous back in your direction, and a few more greet Eli as they pass him, saying, “hello, Brother Sunday.”
He smiles down at them pleasantly, patting one or two of them on the head as they run by. You cross your arms over your chest, lips pressing into a frown.
Eli is a rather persistent preacher—you’ve only been in town a few weeks, at the request of Mr. Plainview to run the new school house—and Eli and his parish have come knocking at your door almost every day, bearing fresh meat or jars of goat milk. Sometimes he visits with his mother or other members of the church who love to extol his virtues. Mostly he visits alone.
“Hello Mr. Sunday,” you greet him, dusting the chalk from your fingers on your skirt, “what can I do for you?”
“It’s Brother Sunday, please, or Eli,” he corrects, paying no mind when you ignore him.
Eli ambles in from the doorway, a gentle smile on his face and his eyes latched onto yours, hands folded meekly in front of him. He’s a tall man compared to most, and it seems he does everything in his power to appear small and docile, standing before the front row of desks and hunching his shoulders. Something about the innocent little grin he wears sends a shiver up your spine.
“I did not see you at church yesterday,” he says in a quiet voice. The pad of his thumb trails gently over the smooth back of his hand, and his nails are clean—another rarity for Little Boston, “I thought you’d said you’d attend.”
And you’d thought he’d get the message after five Sundays without your presence. You breathe deeply, reciting the sentence you’d rehearsed for a moment like this one. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sunday. I had other obligations which could not be avoided.”
His smile doesn’t falter. “My dear sister, what obligations could be more important than praising the lord?”
It takes all your restraint to not roll your eyes. You’d list quite a few, if you thought there was even a chance he’d listen. Instead, you turn your attention to the chalkboard, erasing the marks you’d made with a surprising ferocity.
“I’m not sure why my obligations are any of your business, Mr. Sunday.”
The steady sound of Eli’s footsteps grows louder, bringing the walls around you in with every step of his worn but well-shined shoes. You don’t want to look, can’t force yourself to move—not even when you feel him standing right behind you, pressing so close you couldn’t step to either side without brushing up against him.
He’s so warm, radiating heat like God’s light, letting it bleed through his clothes and forcing you tighter against the blackboard. There’s a shake in your hands as you put down your erasing cloth, his wet breath up against your ear.
“I’m a prophet. Salvation is my business.”
You have to think very hard to keep breathing. His presence has loosened your tongue more than you’d like. “Maybe I don’t believe in prophets.”
You sound weak, a little lamb mewling for its mother. Still, it makes him pause, his voice damp with fear. “You don’t mean that.”
Your fingers curl into tightly clenched fists, seething with rage. You were so goddamn tired of hearing men tell you what you did and didn’t mean. You whirl around to face him, your anger making your blood run hot.
“Yes, I do,” you find yourself shouting, and more surprisingly, have no desire to stop it, “I don’t believe in prophets, and I don’t believe in God. And you can ruin the rest of the town with your silly fantasies but I—”
You’re stunned into silence when the palm of his hand meets your cheek, thrown to the side more by the shock of the impact than the force behind it. The sting still brings tears to your eyes.
You haven’t recovered before he has his mouth on yours.
He presses his whole, hot body against you, your head slamming back against the blackboard with a dull thud, and he’s got your face in both of his hands, rubbing the soreness from where he’d hit you with rough fingers, his lips fierce and hungry, moving so urgently you feel the scrape of teeth. He kisses you, open-mouthed and wet, skin like hell-fire, and you’re too stunned to move.
He pulls away just as you’re about to lean in. A string of spit is all that connects you to his lips, until you watch it tremble and break.
“You wicked, wicked girl,” he whispers, but he’s still got your face in his hands.
And then he’s gone.
It’s been two weeks since then. Two weeks since you’d seen Eli Sunday at all—not even walking through town, or visiting on some neighbor’s doorstep. Not tending to the animals outside his home the one or two times you’d had an excuse to pass by. You’d thought, even—although the idea made your stomach twist—about going to the church for his Sunday sermon, just for a chance to see his face.
It was that damn kiss. You’re still thinking about it—getting flushed and hot every time you look at the chalkboard and remember how it felt to be pressed up against him, going to sleep with the sound of his voice, the words wicked girl repeated in your ear until you can’t think of anything else but the burn between your thighs.
You heave a sigh, sitting at your desk with only an old book for company, eyes on the blackboard. There’s no more tenderness around the place where you’d hit your head, but your fingers travel there anyways, prodding at the skin, hoping for some reminder of how it had felt when he had touched you.
Because he had touched you. And it had been wonderful.
The sun is just beginning to set just beyond the school house windows, and there’s a heavy pit in your stomach at the thought of walking home alone in the dark. Little Boston is not so modern as your hometown, and there are wild animals about at night—coyotes and mountain lions, and, worst of all, the men from the oil rig, drunk and prowling.
You could have been home long ago, but you’d lingered here all afternoon, glancing at the door every few moments as you swept the floors, turning over your shoulder at each imagined sound as you cleaned the blackboard. It seems your waiting was all in vain. You sigh, standing from the chair and stretching the stiffness from your back, glancing one last time at the door.
And then your knees go weak. He’s there.
“Eli.”
He looks up from his feet at the sound of his name, eyes wide; you’ve never called him Eli before, always Mr. Sunday. You both knew the antagonism behind the title, and without it here between you, you’re left feeling vulnerable and naked.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, stepping across the threshold, ducking his head unnecessarily. He’s dressed like he’s about to give a sermon—wearing a dark vest over a roughspun shirt—unusual for most afternoons, since he still worked his father’s farm when he wasn’t peddling salvation. You wonder what the occasion is, eyes wandering down his long, dark frame. When you look back up, he’s watching you, his cheeks turning pink.
You both jump to fill the silence, your words running together in a babble of sound and you can hardly understand what he might be saying, until you pause, just catching the end.
“—and when I could not find you at your home I thought I might check here, to make sure you were alright.”
“You were at my house?” you ask, feeling startled and stupid. You could have left hours ago.
“Oh, yes—” he’s staring at the hem of your dress, and you know this can’t be what it looks like when he preaches, so shy and penitent, like a child prepared to receive a scolding they know they deserve, “I wanted a chance to speak to you . . . to apologize for my behavior the last time we met.”
He glances up through his lashes, mouth pressed together in a tight line. He thinks you might let him off so easily. You shrug your shoulders instead. “Go on, Mr. Sunday.”
Eli nods. “My conduct towards you was unscrupulous and immoral, and I am deeply sorry” —he hums, weighing the possible regret for whatever he might say next— “and . . . I appreciate your discretion as well.”
That gives you pause. You hadn’t even thought about telling someone.
Could you have told someone? It might have backfired—had the whole town whispering about you, calling you idolatrous, calling you a whore, calling you evil for corrupting such a holy man—but it might also have brought some shame down upon Eli, sown the seed of doubt in the hearts of a few of his followers. There would have been a mean satisfaction in seeing him disgraced, no longer able to look you or anyone else in the eye, no longer able to stand in front of his congregation and call others to repentance.
And yet you hadn’t said a word.
You step forward, bridging the distance, standing a little closer than you should. Studying him openly, you feel a delightful spark at the way it makes him flounder, his throat trembling as he swallows hard. It’s like his body has no idea how to handle the way it feels to be so near a woman, nowhere to hide the desire he feels inside. If anyone glanced in through the windows right now, there’d be no denying that Brother Sunday has been caught up in a very grievous sin.
“Why do you want me to join your congregation, Eli?” you ask, hardly whispering in the fading light.
He frowns, confused.
“B- because I want you to be saved—” and it seems there was a little misstep in his words. His eyes fall closed and he tries again, “I want everyone to be saved.”
“Hmmm,” you hum, inching another half-step closer until the hem of your dress brushes up against his ankles. His heavy breaths fill the shrinking space between you, but do nothing to stop the contact when your chest pillows against his, “but you don’t bring gifts to everyone. You don’t visit the men at the rig everyday, or Mr. Plainview, don’t bring your disciples by to see him nearly as often. Why is that?”
He’s quiet, chin dropped again, and you press one finger underneath it, forcing him to meet your eyes. Just as you suspected, there’s longing in his gaze, and the remnants of his self-control crumbling once again before you.
“Do you think I don’t see the way you look at me, Eli?” you ask him softly, and he shudders, hand clenched tight around the edge of a desk, knuckles white like it takes work to keep himself standing, “I am not naive; I know what it means when a man looks at a woman the way you look at me.”
You can feel his breath turn cool against the perspiration that coats your skin, caused by the warm spring night and the fire he’s stoked in you—that same fire you see burning in his own features.
“Please.” He hardly breathes the word.
“Please what, Eli? Tell me.”
You’re looking at him just past the tip of your nose. In the half light, his green eyes look almost black, and they’re focused on your lips.
Too many wants, and no way to voice them.
He kisses you again—like the first time—one hand on your neck and the other cupping the back of your head, skin hot like a brand. The thrill that travels through you is unique, though, because now you get to kiss him back. Pressing your mouth into his more firmly, you stand up on the tips of your toes for better leverage. His whole body trembles when your hand meets his ribs.
“Please,” he whispers again, and that does sound like a sermon, like a prayer. Like a man in commune with God.
“Tell me what you want, Eli. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
“I want—” his voice is high and keening now, “God, I want to touch you.”
Funny enough, that’s what you want, too.
You stumble back onto the solid wood of your desk, pulling him along after you. Eli falls to his knees before you, a gasp on his lips as you shift the hem of your dress higher and higher until you can feel the gentle breeze against the skin of your calves.
He cups his hands around the backs of both your legs, worshiping palms a little rough as they skate over your skin, and he leans his head against your still-covered knee, eyes wide. There’s an unfamiliar leap in your chest when you watch him press a kiss to the fabric just on the inside of your thigh, his hands trailing higher and higher up your skirt. You’re losing contact with the world around you, feeling far away as he slips the linen you wear under your dress down your thighs.
“I’ve never- I don’t know how to-” his fingers just brush the coarse hair that surrounds your cunt, his lips trembling with unspoken desires. You take his left wrist in your hand, guiding him forward, positioning his fingertips against your soaked entrance.
“Touch me here.”
You grip him tightly as his fingers explore, tracing the outline of your folds, dipping gently into your entrance—thicker than your own, already offering an unfamiliar stretch. Without any guidance from you, he runs his thumb down through the cleft between your legs, brushing against a particularly tender spot, and a jolt surges through your body.
You cling to him, hand planted against the scruff of his neck. “There, Eli. I need you there.”
God, he’s so willing to oblige—the lord’s obedient servant, His chosen one—on his knees for you, fingers delving deeper into your wet, tight cunt, thumb rubbing rhythmic circles right where you need it. Sweat drips from his hair pools against your fingers, collects under the hand he uses to keep your thighs parted.
“Is this what you think about,” you ask him, letting your hips shift more fully into his hand in hopes you might mask your own breathlessness, “when you touch yourself, Eli? Do you think about me?”
His jaw is clenched tight, but you know the way his thighs shake. There’s no way for you to ignore the bulge in the black fabric of his trousers, or how his free hand flexes more tightly on your thigh, like he’s resisting the lustful urge to touch himself.
You lean in closer, gripping his face in both your hands so he has to look at you, has to see the way your hair collects against your sweat-stained skin, the way your chest heaves. “I’m sure you do. Not a lot of privacy in your home, with your parents and sisters around. Where do you go when you want to think about me, hmm? The barn? The backwoods? The church?”
He groans, tears pooling in his lower lashes, and your cunt clenches involuntarily at the thought of him bent over the pulpit with his hand down his trousers, sweat dripping onto the pages of the Holy Bible.
Your back bows forward, pulling in closer until your lips just brush his. “If we’re confessing our sins, Eli, you should know I think about you, too.”
He whines, high and keening. “Please,” Eli begs, the movement of his hand haphazard, “I need to be inside you.”
You shake your head, laughing a little, the tender buzzing in your head growing louder with each kiss of his hand against your your folds. “Not yet. Haven’t you heard?—” You pet a hand through his matted hair, pulling a little at the ends. “Patience is a virtue.”
Maybe he sobs, and maybe you’d care if you couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers prodding at your soul. Whatever sound he makes turns quickly into soft, silky laughter, his head lolling against your thigh.
“Oh, you are a wicked girl.”
Yes I am, you want to say, but you can’t. Your lungs have been stoppered by the ravaging heat inside, burned out and filled with smoke as you climb higher and higher to the peak of your pleasure. He must sense it in you; he doubles down on his efforts, holding his fingers in place, spreading them wide inside you and digging the heel of his hand more firmly at the top of your cunt, letting you rut against him like you’re nothing more than an animal. You know now why so many pack into that dark and sweaty church building every Sunday. Being touched by him is a blessing.
Something more potent than the Holy Spirit pours over you; has you crying out in earnest as your ravaged hole spasms—too sensitive for him to pull out just yet. The pleasure runs through you in waves, spreading to the tips of your fingers, curling your toes until your moans subside into whimpers. After a moment, he slips his fingers from between your thighs, panting like he’s the one that’s been overcome.
He’s grabbing at whatever part of you he can reach, warm palm at your neck and your thigh, pulling close until his forehead is pressed against your own.
“I didn’t- I didn’t know that women could—” he stops there, laughing a little, “my God, you are a miracle.”
A miracle. How quickly his attitude has changed, and with so little work from you. Your lips brush against his, eyes open so you can watch his lashes flutter when you deepen the kiss. He tastes like honey, and freshly churned butter, lips trembling when you slide your tongue between them, a lofty breath at the crest of his throat.
As you work at unfastening his pants, the tremor spreads down to his legs, lunging into his hips when you grip his hardened cock in your hands.
He moans—louder than you’d ever expected—loud enough a sliver of fear blossoms inside you, worried that someone might hear. You press your other palm against his mouth.
“Does that feel good?” you ask, stroking him, acclimating him to your touch, and he nods with big, soft eyes. There are tears sliding down his cheeks.
Oh god. There’s an upsetting urge within you, a desire to please him that you would never have expected to feel.
“Do you want more?”
“Yes, god, please,” he’s sobbing again, but quieter now, and you remove your hand fully from his mouth.
Eli buries his face in the crook of your neck, quieting himself as you slide forward, guiding him towards your slick folds, and you can’t help but tense at the pressure, the thick head of him sending an ache through your center, your fingers knotting in his hair.
“Are you alright?” The way he says it, the heavy breaths he takes in your ear—it tells you how much control it takes for him to stay still.
You shift, the meat of your ass sore where it presses against the table, but a delectable kind of sore, like when he’d bruised you against the chalkboard. You think there will be new bruises, on the front of your hips this time, from the way his thumb digs in against you, fighting to brush the bone.
“You’re- you’re bigger than I expected. We’ll have to go slow.”
He nods, but his idea of slow and your idea of slow are not even remotely similar. You bite down on your lip when he thrusts forward with an unpracticed shift of his hips, breathing through the sting of the stretch, fists balled tightly in the loose material of his shirt.
“You can hurt me,” he whispers, tracing his lips up the sweaty tendons of your neck, “if it helps. I don’t mind.”
And it does help, to your surprise, forcing his shirt out of your way, digging your nails into his soft, pale flesh that covers his shoulder blades, marking him red. He shifts forward again, and you silence your own cry, biting into the thick muscle of his shoulder.
You must be wet with desire for him, because the pain fades quickly, a much warmer ache taking its place, and your nails no longer burrow into his skin hard enough to sting, but instead to bring him closer.
His heavy breaths weigh down on your shoulders and he leans back, watches the way he impales you with his stiff cock, cheeks burning with shame. Flushed red, with his eyes turned towards the heavens, he looks like an angel painted by one of the great masters. There’s idolatry in his eyes.
“What god do you worship, Eli?” you ask him, stroking your thumb over the crest of his cheek, gathering his sweat against your skin. He leans in closer, and you know he must want to press his lips against yours, must hope to quiet you with another fierce kiss. You shift just past his reach, ignoring the pain in your tensing core.
“There is only one God,” he admonishes you, “just one. I worship Him.”
He groans at the sound of your laugh, muscles tensing. “That’s funny, because I don’t see Him here. There’s only me, Eli. Who were you on your knees for, just moments ago?”
You can tell the thought has him close, no matter how he tries to deny it. “You- you shouldn’t even suggest such a thing.”
Your hand curls harsh around his jaw, forcing his eyes to meet yours, living for the way your cruelty makes him twitch inside you. “It’s just a question, Brother Sunday. What god do you worship?”
He chases your lips again, and you hold him back. Your own breaths grow louder, crying through clenched teeth with each of his movements, your slick cunt growing warmer with the friction he gives you, at the changed angle, a distinct panic in your chest because he’s going to make you cum again and you want him to.
“Eli.” You should warn him about the hungry pit low in your stomach and the way it grows wider as he presses into you, let him know that something is about to happen, but you don’t have the words to describe it.
He reaches his own point of desperation, eyes screwed tight. The yearning he feels must overpower his piety because you feel the words he whispers, tongue just brushing the tips of your fingers as he wets his lips.
“It’s you. I worship you.”
It hits you in the chest, punching the air from you, your soft sigh meshed with his high, keening groan. He pulls from you before the spasms have left, and you feel the warm paint of his spend against your thighs.
The silence between you is sacred.
“My god,” he’s laughing as he breaks it, giggling against the skin of your jaw, pressing wet, open-mouthed along your flushed skin, “my god.”
And you know it’s not the lord’s name he’s taking in vain. It’s yours.
Tags in case you’re interested: @trelaney, @theold-ultraviolence
#eli sunday x reader#eli sunday x you#eli sunday smut#eli sunday#twbb#my writing#minors dni#female reader#paul dano#danonation#dano nation#danocel
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Absolution
Eli Sunday x Female!Reader, word count: 2k
i blame the discord server i just needed a lot of this and i needed it now so yeah
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: religion, sex on a desk™, oral, language, degradation
“Father Sunday, I’m so grateful that you would let me come to you in my hour of desperate need.”
On the floor of the office at the back of the church, Eli Sunday paced behind you as you sat on the chair at his desk, facing away from him, face basked in the light that managed to pour in from the dusty window. You could have looked almost angelic, cheeks stained with tears, lips pink and pouting, basking in the glow of God’s light, if not for the fact that your cheeks were ruddy with embarrassment. Truly a sign of a sinner to Father Sunday.
“Who else would you come to, my little lost lamb? I welcome your ingenuity, your honesty, now more than ever. To come to me without force. The willing can be saved.”
He spoke with genuine feeling, but never ceased his relentless patrol of the floor, footsteps softly thudding, the creaks of the floorboards with each purposeful step.
“I want to be saved, Father Sunday. More than anything. I want to be pure.”
“So tell me. What are your sins, little lamb. What sets you apart from the flock?”
As you paused, taking in a shuddering breath, you considered changing your mind. The consequences of being so forthright weighed heavy on your mind. Watching the dust settle on the rays of light, the way they floated, sparkling, you tried to calm yourself, licking your lips before speaking.
“Father Sunday, I can only apologise, and I do so profusely, but I’ve…sinned.”
There was a brief pause before he let a soft chuckle fall from his pursed mouth.
“I wouldn’t expect any less of someone like you.”
“Father Sunday, I-”
“Please don’t interrupt me. You’re forgetting who you’re speaking to. You think I don’t know all?”
“You know what I’ve done?”
“Of course, my child. I’m blessed with the knowledge from our Father above.”
Of course. Fear settled in the put of your stomach, coiling its way around your intestines, nauseating you almost immediately as it snaked around your insides and claimed them as its own. You tried to speak, but all you managed was a meek and nervous stutter.
“I see.”
“But, absolution can only come from you. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done? Let the words come forth and enter into this holiest of spaces, where they can no longer blacken your insides, darken your soul.”
Taking in a deep and shaking breath, you let yourself begin the procedure of washing away your sins.
“Well, Father…I’ve been deeply troubled by thoughts of…sin…for some time now. It’s been overwhelming me, temptation taking hold of my very being. I thought that I may act upon it in a way befitting a true sinner, so in my haste to resolve this possession, I took matters into my own hands.”
Silence behind you, as Eli stopped pacing and stood still, in an indeterminate space in the room, watching and waiting.
“Quite literally.”
From his space in the room, watching over you like a guardian angel, you could hear a soft breath as Eli opened his mouth.
“I don’t mean to covet another woman’s man, but something lately has come over me, and I’ve found myself very interested in…well I won’t say…but the desire was strong enough that I let myself indulge in carnal sins, those of the flesh.”
The gentle sound of fabric shifting, as you assumed Father Sunday was bracing himself against your words, disappointment coursing through his veins at the words of his little lost lamb. But, out of your view, it was evident that something else was stirring in Eli, something to help corrupt his false moral standing.
“I’ve taken pleasures…touched myself, Father Sunday. I wasn’t able to stop myself, the need was too strong.”
A sharp breath, shuddering exhale, before Eli spoke again.
“Please…you must be open…honest…tell me everything.”
Footsteps shuffled behind you, as you could send his presence closer to you.
“In the dark, as quietly as I could. I moved my nightdress up, let the cool of the evening settle over my stomach, bare and exposed. I touched…I didn’t…But I touched…”
“How did it feel, my lost, little lamb?”
“It felt…good, Father.”
The embarrassment of admitting your sins to him had your stomach flipping, blood rushing to your cheeks and pulsing in your ears, deafening you, reddening your cheeks, and filling you with a familiar warmth that only further worsened the shame that coursed through you.
“It was warm?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Hmm…” It sounded ponderous, as though he were contemplating your punishment, or whether or not you could be redeemed for your transgressions. But beyond your view, out of reach of your senses’ comprehension, Eli had quietly loosened the black pants he wore. With his thumb and forefinger, he limply tugged at his semi-erect cock, mouth falling open in a silent gasp, hushed pleasure flowing free.
“It felt…pleasurable?”
“Yes, Father Sunday.”
“And you…followed through to completion on your actions?”
“I’m sorry, Father Sunday. I did. Yes, I did.”
With a free hand lifting his shirt up, he wrapped his palm tight around his length, tugging viciously at himself, his thumb languidly tracing over his head, shuddering at the sensitivity, the tainted satisfaction.
“Quietly? Or were you unable to hold the moans back at your sinful ministrations?”
“Father…I…”
You turned to look at him, but he stamped his foot down, hard and loud, whipping your neck back and staring forward. The shuffling of fabric and footsteps, a belt.
“Oh, Father Sunday. Please not that.”
“From…oh, the belt?”
“I assumed…would that be a fitting punishment? I believe in coming clean, I should be afforded some mercy.”
“And do you believe you deserve it?”
“The belt?”
“Mercy, you silly little lamb.”
“Please, Father.”
He stepped to behind you, slowly, placing his palms firmly on your shoulders, breathing in deeply.
“I think perhaps…” his fingers squeezed into you, holding you down in the seat “…that a punishment fitting of this sinful behaviour, would be to take part in something that might take the whore out of you.”
You stayed silent, cowering into yourself that the insinuation, regardless of how true you might believe it to be, that you were a whore.
“Perhaps something that might satiate the urges. And who better to perform this exorcism of your demons, than a holy man.”
Sitting deathly still, you let his words sink in, their meaning igniting a warmth inside of you, pressure forming in your stomach. You licked your lips in anticipation of his next words, waiting for him to finish his sweet sermon.
“Are you amenable to this?”
Nodding your head lightly, you felt his fingers tense into you further, reassuring yet threatening, which is the way you would describe his presence as leader of the flock. There was the faith that he could save, that he could heal. But underneath lay the threat that by not following his words and his ways, that you could easily be corrupted, damned. He leaned into you, spitting the words out sharply.
“Say yes.”
“Yes, Father Sunday.”
“Stand up, turn around, and get on your knees and pray.”
Doing as you were told immediately, you lent at his feet, making note of his loosened belt, the bulge contained with his trousers, pressing into the front of them, saliva pooling in your mouth. You quickly swallowed it, lest you drool as you began your prayers. Knees in the familiar position, recognising the harsh, gritty wood on the bare skin, you clasped your hands together and began to pray for your salvation. But when you lifted your eyes to make sure you were pleasing Father Sunday and the Lord with your words of apology and devotion, you were met with Eli staring straight back at you. Cherubic, youthful face red, sweat beading on his forehead, his lips curled softly at the corners. His hand, holding his length in his hand, so close you could smell him on you. Hot, slightly salty, delicious.
“Your prayer is pathetic, and I do believe that your sinner’s mouth would be better tasked with something else. Now, if you will please me, I can sense that this would work in your favour. Let me wash your mouth out with my forgiveness, little lamb.”
Mouth opening slightly for him, he tutted, pressing his thumb to your lower lip, his fingers soft and warm as he pushed down on your teeth, lowering your jaw and making room for himself. Guiding his cock by the base, he entered your mouth, whimpering lightly under his breath as you let your tongue press up against the shaft, drawing it over the head as you flexed it. Eli caught your chin in his hand, palm meeting the skin with a slap, gripping tightly as he forced your gaze to his, still resting his firm cock in your mouth as his precum settled on your tastebuds.
“Harlot. You’re a vessel for my salvation. You should stay still and take it, participation indicates enjoyment. You’re not enjoying your punishment, are you?” He pulled back, ejecting himself from your mouth with a sloppy noise, your spit falling from your lips to the floor.
“Of course n-”
“Don’t lie in the house of God, lamb.”
“I enjoyed it, Father Sunday.”
“Then I’ll have to make this a lot less pleasurable for you. Get off of your knees and bend over this desk. I do my best work here, write my sermons, I can eradicate your sin upon it also.”
Stepping behind you as you positioned yourself across the desk, Eli lifted your skirt, silently judging your lack of underwear, as he pressed his fingers to your folds. Bringing them back out, he thrust them at your face.
“Sinful!” His voice was loud, echoing around you. Beet red from the shame you could feel the flush of heat in your cheeks, wondering if the rest of your exposed body was blushing similarly. Before you had time to contemplate it fully, Eli had inserted himself inside of you fully, stretching you, virginal innocence claimed by the shepherd of the flock. It was overwhelming, you could feel the Lord inside of you. You were grateful to Eli, for sharing his gift, his forgiveness.
“Ask for forgiveness, whore. Beg for it.”
“Father…uh…Sunday…p-please…please save me…”
As Eli thrust into you, his hair coming loose from the tidy style it usually sat in, he looked up at the wall, staring at the cross that hung there, well aware that the noises of the carnal sacrifice he was making would be heard through the cracks of the wooden shack.
“You are a whore. You are a harlot. And you are a sinner. And only I can save you, only I bring the salvation you so clearly desire.”
“Yes…yes, Father…yes…”
“Say it, out loud for God and all his children to hear. Tell what you are loud and proud.”
“I’m a whore, Father Sunday…hng…a whore…”
“And I’m here…to flush…hmm…the demons from you…mmm…to expel them…raw and painful as it might be!”
His thrusts became clumsier, no pace to them, frantic in nature as he tried to rid you of your shame, your sin. To make you whole and pure. His fingers, tightly gripping at your exposed hips, bruising the flesh with the effort he put into pulling you back onto him, revelling in his act of charity so roughly bestowed upon you.
“Shall I…bless you…little lamb? Would you like to be anointed?”
“Yes, Father.”
He slipped out, turning you around and pushing you on to your knees once again. His hand, rings glinting in the sunlight, pumped furiously at his cock as he whined in frustration, waiting for you to take position. And as you stared up at him, ready for instruction, eyes wide and sorrowful, his position of command reinforced, he let loose upon you, allowing his blessing to cover your mouth and cheeks. In shocked silence you stayed still, awaiting his further instruction. But as he tucked his shirt back in and adjusted his trousers, all he did was toss a handkerchief at you for you to clean yourself off.
“Though your sins have been absolved for now, I can only expect you to sin again. Weak is the flesh. The temptation of whores.”
Weak indeed, as you limped on shaky legs out of the church, blessed by Father Sunday and intent on receiving further absolution for the sins you might perform on yourself that evening.
#there will be blood#eli sunday#eli sunday x reader#eli sunday fic#paul dano#finnie writes#paul dano fic#danonation#danocel#eli sunday x you#eli sunday smut
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Sleep Tight | Eli Sunday x fem!Reader
Eli Sunday x fem!Reader
Word Count | 1,324
Author's Note | once again. sophia is to blame. she just pulls these thoughts from me. witch. /t
Warnings | smut (MDNI), masturbation, unprotected sex, a sprinkle of misogyny (sorry folks, Eli makes the feminism in me just disappear), non-con but it turns consensual, nothing else I can think of!
It’s the middle of the night. Eli’s tossing and turning, hoping he doesn’t wake you. Hoping that it just goes away. Praying that the nauseating shame creeping through his stomach will cease the throbbing below him.
He’d had this problem many times before since he was young. When it had just been him, he’d lay face down and try to suffocate it against the sheets, even if it was painful. He quickly discovered his will wasn’t strong enough. For he’d inevitably end up rocking his hips against his bed, slowly working himself up more, sweating in the heat of the night until he came. Face buried in his pillow, he’d groan desperately and hope the sound was muffled enough that his family wouldn’t hear.
They never did, thank goodness.
So he kept doing it. Almost looked forward to the nights where he’d wake up hard just so he could hump his own bed. He knows this release is something close to a sin. Maybe he’d feel more guilty if he used his hands. Instead he keeps his arms wrapped up and around his pillow, holding it to his body and clenching the cushion in his hands. Once he was done, he would rest easy.
With you by his side, he very well couldn’t do that anymore. Couldn’t quietly and shamefully take care of himself and with a stifled groan; nor could he stain the sheets of his marital bed with his wretched spend. He simply couldn’t. Not with you lying on your side, sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of his current turmoil.
That’s when he gets a rotten idea. The most foul, perverted notion comes to his mind as he stares at your back. It’s the kind of thought that should kill his arousal; should make him pull out his Bible and repent for the intrusive lust.
If anything…it drives him more mad.
It makes him chew on his lip as he nervously inches closer to you. Reaches his hand down to the hem of your nightgown and pulls it up only slightly before pausing. He thinks twice and clenches his eyes closed.
Nighttime in Little Boston isn't usually this quiet. The constant drilling of the distant oil rig has managed to become a part of landscapes white noise; as natural as the crickets or the whistle of the wind. It's an absence that rattles his nerves. All is still as he promises himself he’ll be quick. He’ll be gentle. So silent and so slow that you won’t even notice, save for the stickiness you’ll no doubt wake up with coating your inner thighs in the morning.
But he’s too worked up to even think of some sort of excuse for that inevitability before he pulls himself out of his trousers. He’s achingly erect and leaking from the tip. Still he spits on his fingers. Then taking himself in his hand, he pumps a few times, already panting, then navigates the space between your legs, rubbing the moisture all along your folds until he discovers the hole he needs.
Eli slips his fingers in, sucks a breath in through his teeth at how tight of a fit it’ll be for him. But it’ll feel like heaven. Just laying there, he knows your cunt will take him just as well as the night he married you. It’ll be quick. Gentle. Silent.That’s all he can think as he pushes in, not worrying about whether or not you’ll adjust to his size. Just sinking himself further into your tight, luxurious opening.
The biggest problem is that he doesn’t know where to put his hands. He didn’t think this far ahead. Didn’t think he’d let out a long whine as you squeezed around his cock. He buries his head into the shoulder of your nightgown, hoping you won’t stir, even though the embarrassing sound had already left him.
Strangely, it’s not the sound that wakes you. It’s your husbands head knocking into you that has your eyes fluttering open and softly asking, “Eli, baby? Whas’the matter?”
He doesn’t dare answer. Perhaps if he stays tongue tied and motionless, you’ll figure he had a nightmare and simply fall back asleep. Then he could slip out and curse himself for pressing his luck this much.
Lord knows he pressed it far too much, for you can’t ignore the splitting burn between your legs. Can’t ignore the familiar stretch of Eli’s cock as he’s submerged in you and twitching, obviously needing friction. It’s when you feel the wetness of tears and the heaving sobs against your back that you fully process what he had attempted to do.
Yet...it doesn’t disgust you. It makes you want to turn and hold him in your arms. Call him your precious, sweetest boy and make him fuck you like he really means it instead of lingering in this miserably awkward position. You would take the reins if he didn’t feel so magnificent.
If he didn’t trigger a burn in your belly that has you cooing, “Oh, honey. You could’ve woken me up.” You paused, “I wouldn’t have said no.”
Hesitantly, he picks his head up, his ears perked at the palpable want in your tone, “Really?”
You confirm, “Really.”
“Wanna keep going, baby boy?” You ask. You feel him nod eagerly, waiting for your approval.
You giggle breathily, “Then go ahead. Take me, Eli.”
With a fresh wave of confidence, Eli knows exactly what to do with his hands. He hooks his arms underneath yours and pulls you towards him like he would’ve done with his pillow so long ago. His hands just happen to land on your chest. They just happen to grab onto your tits like he would’ve grabbed onto the pillow.
But you’re nothing close to that sad object. You’re his wife. His angel. His everything as he buries his head in the crook of your neck and thrusts forward. He hears the breath hitch in your throat as he sets his own pace. He kisses your shoulder and hopes it’ll make it better.
And just in case it doesn’t, he whispers, “How did I get so lucky?”
Maybe you’re still sleepy or you're already fucked out. Nonetheless, your head feels heavy as all you can mutter is, “I love you…so much.” It isn’t an answer, but it’s true.
He says under his breath, “That’s right, darling. You’re my good little wife. Letting me take you like this. Letting me have what’s mine.” He hastily takes a hand and pulls up the front of your delicate nightgown so it bunches up at your stomach. Brings his fingers to the aching little bead near the top of your cunt and harshly rubs circles around it. He told himself he’d be quick. He'd have to forego the gentleness and quiet as you yelp each time he pounds into you
Eli is invading every one of your sentences, face pressed to your shoulder, soaking the fabric with his spit with every groan from his mouth, hanging wide open. His cock sliding in and out with ease as he winds you up. Large palm grasping your breast and keeping you caged in against him; subject to every one of his frantic movements. His skilled fingers remember exactly how you like your clit to be ravaged.
By the time he gets you towards the end of your rope, you could burst free from the embrace of his body. You writhe in his grip, babbling incomprehensibly through the pleasure as his seed coats the inside of you and his mouth finds your neck once more.
He kisses your skin tenderly through the aftershocks and whispers against your ear, “Thank you, my darling. I love you. Oh, how I love you.” He keeps pressing those apologetic kisses to your shoulder until you fall asleep. He follows you soon after, still buried inside of your cunt and holding you close so he doesn’t have a chance to fall out.
#danonation#paul dano#danocel#there will be blood#eli sunday#eli sunday x reader#eli sunday x you#eli sunday x y/n#eli sunday smut#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚
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man I’m loving the eli sunday thirst. and i’m just thinking about sucking him off under his desk while he’s doing his radio show. that’d be nice.
GHHH the way his breath would occasionally hitch, the way he'd involuntary whimper, but try to cover up his noises by clearing his throat. he stumbles over his words, youre making him look like an idiot and hes embarrassed, but most of all PISSED. hed get even more frustrated if you try to touch yourself while sucking him, because he didnt give you permissions to do so, and you dont deserve to cum for your behavior. uses his foot to gently kick your arm to send the message without words, and starts to set the pace by gripping your hair move your mouth up and down his cock, just the way he likes it. forces your head down to the base of his dick and cums down your throat, holds you there until you swallow every last drop, no matter how many tears spill down your cheeks, no matter how much you gag from the bitter taste.
be prepared for him to take all his anger out on you when hes done. you wanted to be a sinful little slut, now accept the consequences <3
#eli sunday#eli sunday smut#eli sunday x reader#giggles. im watching a scene from twbb rn and lord . when he tells daniel to get on his knees. LORD HAVEMERCY.
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❥ 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙬𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣 ❥
❥ 𝙚𝙡𝙞 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬 ❥
❥ author's note: HI BICHES welcome to the first fic for this page!!!! i havent many like “request here” type of post but that’ll be up soon but i will be taking request for any paul dano characters + more real soon!!! hope y’all enjoy freaks heart emoji
❥ summary: the town is a bunch of chismosos and shit talk you but who tf cares tbh, eli thinks ur moms a hoe sike ur the hoe and "cleanses" you
❥ warnings: hardcore sex *hearteyes* u also bitch slap eli sunday, fem afab reader i can also make a amab or genderneutral if yall want xoxo gossip girl
it was always a wonder to you on how the church functioned the way it did, scriptures and prayers almost yelled out enough for the heavens to hear with curious ears. definitely, there was really nothing else to do in the meek and dull town residing in scorching california. practically every day the entire town would pass into the church, praying and crying and screaming out to the man in the clouds to help them. forgive them, odd how many were yelled at. begging on their knees for forgiveness like starving dog wishing and slobbering for just a bite of meat.
perhaps it was for the better, a new look for a quaint town. church was always there and welcomed all, but you found it best to keep yourself away from the aura that nipped at you. leaving imaginary stings as it just felt, off. often, you'd walk past the church whenever you went out in town to run daily errands. politely giving sweet "hellos" and "goodbyes" before running off with your group of friends that you adored for days and nights full of gleam and laughter.
nothing grew in the deserted earth of the town, but when you were out having fun it felt like a field of tulips in bloom. standing proud and tall for the sunshine to expose their happiness.
at this age finally leaving adolescence and entering adulthood would be a grand experience, one where you would explore willingly. of course, many people liked to spread rumors about the many townsfolk going out late at night and not coming back till the next day. deeming them "wild" and "improper," funny how many of the most judgmental souls are in reality controlling hypocrites who hide behind the bible.
the older townsfolk had the biggest mouths though, coming up to you with a concerned look on their face. aged hands taking yours with their finger pads stroking against soft skin only to mask their words that wanted to dig under your skin. thick skin being the result of those snobby and back handed compliments, but the one time that your blood began to boil was the comment, "a lady like you needs to slow down, go find yourself a husband to calm you. eli sunday has yet to have a woman of his own, why don't you head by the church for him."
now, in religious practices everyone is taught not to hate, love thyself or whatever eli sunday has mentioned, but you know damn well eli sunday hated you and your guts.
well perhaps you shouldn't have called him a blind sheep leading the herd off a cliff but really that's what he was attempting to do, and successfully doing so as the herd of sheep yelled and threw insults at you. shaming and ridiculing you as you walked out of the chapel that day on an unfortunate afternoon.
but besties that, you never fancied eli sunday or try to talk to him or any of that nonsense. you had your own life and he had his own strange life following the word of a novel that has been altered generation after generation.
once the town began spreading their rumors about you, you never batted your eyelashes. whispers and murmurs whenever you passed by. words spreading like wild fire to the devil's ears, and this devil was eli sunday.
painting himself not to be nosy, he walked up to two elders in the middle of a conversation after mass.
"oh my apologizes, was i interrupting you two?" eli softly asks, like poisoned honey imitating sweetness when in secret is actually lethal.
"goodness no eli, we were just discussing about that girl running around the streets at night. [name] she is, you remember her, yes?"
he nods with a gentle bow, "yes i remember quite well actually," smugly remembering the memories of your snappy remarks as he chuckled to himself.
"that girl has been possessed by a demon," another man joined.
"oh don't be so rude, she's young!" a woman walks into the circle.
"all the more lethal!" an old man shouted.
"now now there no need to yell about this," eli raised his arms up to mellow down the crowd that assembled.
"but eli she's a devil woman!" many of the crowd agreed. conspiring numerous rumors and lies about you and what you were doing all night out.
truly, you weren't doing anything wrong. going out dancing at night, picking fun of overly drunk men at the bars as they attempted to flirt with you before practically passing out on whisky. even just running down the creek with your friends to raise the fabrics of your dresses and pants to step into the water. finding rocks to throw into the water. but alas, many of the judgmental received their kicks in tearing down others but frankly that would never happen. you'd be damned before anyone laid a hand on you.
finally returning after the eventful night, you quietly walked into your house with the scent of fresh bakery from the kitchen. a lovely morning filled with the fresh spring breeze, summer just right by and you debated how you would handle california's hell season with the blistering sun.
you walked to your mother and greeted her with a hug, asking how she was during the time you were gone. you two sat at the dinner table eating the warm pastries as she filled you with all the information.
though, her face shifted. questioning her she responded.
"i've heard about what the towns people are saying about you," she pauses whilst you set down a pastry and folded your hands, "i'm just worried about you."
"worried why? you know the town is only saying things to get some sort of kick," you reply in mostly disbelief towards your mother.
"i know honey," she caressed your hand, "and you know i want whats best for you and for nothing to every happen to you right" you nod.
"well that's why i arranged for eli sunday to have a meeting with you! nothing odd just a short session to rid anything...if anything is there at least!" her tone was laced in sweetness to not upset you. but to have eli sunday? eli sunday who's head looks too big to stand on his neck come and do what? prance around you while shouting a paragraph from the book of lies? hard pass.
it would be an absolute honor for eli sunday to rid of all the sin and evil from your body, in his mind he knew there was some sort of demon inside of you to make you refuse to attend church and choose fun over christ. reading that allowed would definitely sound strange. oh and do not read this text around any hardcore religious adults, fair warning bozos.
eli's hair neatly slicked back with his proper little suit nice and fitted as he walked to your home that evening. your mother being gone as she needed to visit one of the women in charge of fabrics, leaving you and eli alone for the session.
unamused at the knock on your front door, you did not get up from your seat on the couch to answer it. there was another knock followed by silence, then another knock.
"[flop ass name] i've come for our session," he states loud enough for someone to hear inside, "i'll just let myself in."
weirdo. he opens the door revealing you seated upon the couch. bored and not wanting to pay attention to the dressed up man who closed the door behind him.
eli only looks around your house to take in everything, the decorations and the little vase of flowers sitting on a nearby table. his dumb smile plastered on his face as he looks you down, as if to belittle you and show you that he's the one in power at the moment.
"so, your mother wanted me to have a session with you. rid any demons that may have possessed you," he begins, "it'll be simple, i'll check you for any signs and have you say a prayer with me."
"i'm thrilled," you roll your eyes and eli shoots a glare.
eli crouches in front of you with a grimace on his face, "i can already feel it."
"feel what?"
"the demon, it's here."
"how? that's ridiculous,"eli begins to spew nonsense about feeling the presence of the demon, even saying the demon has a hand wrapped around your throat to control you like some sort of puppet. once he finished explaining it grew silent, the look on his face made you laugh. a giggle at first then laughter, the so called horror and fear was all just a mask and you knew it.
"i don't understand what you find so amusing [name], i'm trying to help you," eli became upset.
"no you're not, you're only trying to make yourself look better to the town," you say, "you promise all the redemption and shout prayer after prayer but turn your back whenever an untrue rumor conspires against someone."
"that's not true-"
"yes it is." you cut him off, "it's happened to so many people in the town including me."
the tips of eli's ears began to burn red, becoming angry from your attitude problem.
"those people and you are not following the ideals that god has provided in the bible." he stated.
"to hell with your ideas," your reply to your words was a sting from his hand slapping you. enough to turn your head in shock, turning back with a smile you spoke up, "do it again."
eli's face twists with disdain in contrast with the heat that begun in his chest and up into his face, looking down at you with your smile that laced with evil he sucks in air through his teeth.
"what's wrong eli?" you ask innocently, then raise a hand to caresses his face. it's soft, who would've known.
his hands became clammy when you pushed yourself off the couch and kneeled down with eli, trailing your fingers against the top of his suit.
"you seem tense," you whisper for only eli to hear, "i can fix that."
leaning in, you press a chaste kiss against eli's lips. Shockingly, they're soft. Eli's hands become shaken, clammy as he has no idea what to do or where to put them. Only squeezing his eyes shut before slipping a glance to see your pretty face so close. His mood erratically changed from anger to shock, then to yearning once you pulled away.
Looking directly at his dumb flushed state, you laugh at him. Confused, eli opens his mouth before shutting it once more in embarrassment. A burning sensation was dusted from the tips of his ears, traveling from his face down to his chest. Only god and himself would know the heat only traveled further downward with the way you inched closer to him.
"you look so pathetic like this, but i can't help that i like it," you press another kiss against his small lips. There's no love or affection but only hunger and lust, and also inexperience on eli's behalf. It didn't matter though, he was going to become such a nice little plaything for you.
Seating him on the couch, his shirt was unbuttoned exposing the marks of sin. Dark reds and purples littered across his neck and chest creating its own painting of beauty. The evil would adore it yet the heavens above would find it disgraceful. How dare eli sunday allow this to happen? How dare eli sunday, the priest of the town, the one who everyone turned to confess there sins to was turning his back on them. How dare he quiver and shake as you undid the belt of trousers.
He was pent up and easily turned on, by the looks of it he seemed to at least turn his back on god once or twice. Wondering how he looked teary eyed and on his knees begging for mercy, it lightened you core. Building up a wetness within your panties that would later be addressed.
"[Name]..." he breaths out as if telling a deep and dark rooted secret that he was afraid god would hear.
"Yes eli?" you look up from you placement, on your knees with his cock in hand. Not yet starting anything but the simple feeling of your hand had him breathless. "Is something wrong eli?"
"No i just," he was cut off by his own voice moaning out as you lick a long, slow stipe from the bottom to the top. Taking his head first then agonizingly inching down until your nose met with his pelvis. It was so much in such a short motion that had eli mouth agape, the feeling of cumming already near when he looked down at you with your eyelashes fluttering as you looked up at him.
Pulling away, you take a breather before sinking back down. This time, bobbing only a few inches whilst you sucked him eagerly. Your hands trailed up against his thighs, using your fingernails to drag across the exposed flesh. Sure enough to leave painful scratches from the treatment. Soon enough, a hand traveled to his hip. Holding it down in attempt to stop his stuttering hips to suck him off better. The mess of spit had traveled down your chin, even dripping against the length of his cock.
With his hips still attempting to thrust themselves more into your mouth, you felt yourself gag around his cock. Going deep enough to make your eyes roll back and tears to drip along your cheeks.
"fuck i-" Eli realizes the word that left from his mouth. Your hair was tangled around his fingers before he takes another hand to cover his mouth. Thighs trembling as he begins blabbering out apologies.
"Forgive me please, forgive me for I have sinned," he kept chanting in a pathetic pitch. His moans enlaced themselves with his please before he suddenly whines as he cums in your mouth. Painting the inside of your mouth as your mouth is still around him.
Pulling your lips off of him, his cock was still rock hard and eager but he began to speak up.
"Please let me taste you," it didn't come out as a question but rather a demanded plea. You smile at him as you sat up on the couch, laying back as Eli began to remove the fabrics of your clothes, leaving you in your underwear as his hands shakily but swiftly remove them.
Eli dove between your legs like a starved man, sloppily and hungrily lapping your folds with his tongue. the warmth of his tongue was delightful and looking down at him you noticed his eyes were closed and hair disheveled. you grab a fistful of his hair in order for him to slow down, finding the movements that began to make you quiver.
as his pattern developed your breath was practically gone, gasping and sucking in the air as much as you could. your juices as well as his tongue creating the most disgusting slurping noise, though eli loved it. he moaned against you, fingernails digging into your thighs deep enough to scar little crescents like moon shining into the window. the only witness of this unholy act.
eli was so lost in your taste, not caring about anything else or whatever punishment he may receive in the future. this couldn't be a sin. no, if the act felt this good it must be from god themself.
it was adding up when eli attempted to slip a finger inside of you, slow and deep as it stretched you. not painful now, but it filled you with relief when he added a second and began pumping to find another spot. with his tongue and finger working wonders on you, you released on his mouth and he gladly cleaned you up with his tongue.
eli let his head fall back, waiting for any movement from you yet you didn't budge.
he glared, "why aren't you-" a slap was met to his face. your breathing was the only thing heard in the quiet living room. the smile to his face was turned you on even more, pulling you in to kiss you as you began your movements. sloppy and deep, hitting the spots hard whilst you were still sensitive from the previous orgasms.
maybe you still hated eli sunday, maybe it was all the pent up tension, or maybe you were the succubus sent down to drag him down to hell. no, eli did not believe there was a demon possessing you. his eyes rolled back as sweat clung to his forehead, hips meeting with yours to hit so perfectly together.
his mind was racing but also blank, not knowing what to focus his attention on. But he knew damn well his was in love with this feeling. Like he thought before this must be some godly thing that he was expierence. a spiritual awakening is what this had to be. or perhaps you were the god he prayed to each day and night, the one who he seeked forgiveness to. yes, deinfetly.
both you and eli were getting so close to your high, having no shame with the with the noises being woven into the quiet night or even the mixtures of reds and purples like a the most ethereal of paints. with the final thrust, eli had come undone beneath you. clinging onto you as you followed along shortly after. intertwined in the night for only whatever god above to judge.
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eli sunday cums from having his cock slapped btw this is not a headcanon it's a fact I'm his wife he told me himself
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God Loves You, But Not Enough to Save You
eli sunday x female reader
MINORS DNI
Warnings: Nsfw, religious themes, religious guilt, fingering, smut, somewhat angst???
Cruel as the god he serves. He pretends to be loving, a shepherd for a flock of lost sheep, but I see him for the wolf he is. He knows it. That’s why he spoke to my family, poisoned them against me, told them I was becoming corrupted by forces of evil. I don’t know what I could’ve possibly done to earn his scrutiny. All I know is now, as he sits across from me in the empty church, I feel as though I am a lamb cornered by a wolf. Where is the gentle shepard he once pretended to be?
“Why do you fear for my soul, father?”
He stands up and strides forward. This must be a power trip, he’s practically toe to toe with me.
“My child, I see how you look at me. You look at me as though I am a snake in your garden. You believe I am a liar, a charlatan, a salesman trying to hawk his wares. You question me, and by questioning me, you question God. Your soul is in the hands of evil forces, the devil is in you my girl, and I plan on getting him out.”
I look up at Eli, anger coursing through my veins. He is so full of himself, so sick with pride, it enrages me.
He meets my gaze, his eyes spell something that is anything but holy.
“What if I don’t want your saving?” I reply, trying to remove the shakiness from my voice. Before I know what is happening, my back is shoved against the wall. A large hand grips my face, forcing me to look into green eyes that are wild.
“Dear girl, I am the only one who can save you. You think you can save yourself? You think God loves you? God may love you, but not enough to save you. I am the only person who can save you, by showing you your true purpose.” He seethes, spitting the words out. His hot breath on my face and neck is making it hard to listen to what he’s saying.
“My purpose? what purpose could you possibly reveal to me? You are merely a man Eli, and a sorry excuse for one at that.” I hiss, staring into his eyes. His pupils are huge, almost manic.
We stand there, locked in place, his hand still gripping my chin.
That’s when he crashes his mouth against mine. It feels good. Why wouldn’t it. A warm, searing kiss that makes me forget how to breathe. I kiss him back, as his hand moves from my neck down my body. I moan from the sudden tug on my clothes, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth. His hand slides down my legs, underneath the skirt of my dress, traveling up my thigh until he reaches my panties. Eli practically rips the thin fabric off my legs; how impatient. He shoves a finger inside me, I whimper in surprise.
“You are dripping with sin.” he says with a heavy sigh, as if his excitement is not brushing against my legs.
“Then fix me,” I pant as he starts pumping his finger.
He pushes another finger inside me, and I bite my lip to stop from crying out.
“It hurts… Eli it hurts,” I whimper.
“Of course it hurts. Punishment isn’t meant to feel good.”
He curls his fingers against a spot that makes my knees buckle, but thankfully he has me pinned between him and the wall. His thumb wanders while his finger pump, and I feel bolts of pleasure spark through me. When he suddenly pulls his fingers out of me and I whine from disappointment, but that quickly subsides as he roughly grabs my hips and spins me around. My head would have been slammed against the church wall if I wasn’t frozen from shock.
“I am going to cleanse you.” He says simply, and it isn’t until he’s unbuckling his trousers that I fully grasp what he means.
He turns my head so i’m facing him and simply asks,
“Do you want salvation?”
and I respond.
“Yes.”
He slides into me and it hurts, the stretch unlike anything i’ve ever felt before. The pain rocks through my body, it’s absolutely piercing. As he rocks his hips against me, I’m pressed further into ornate church walls.
“Do you feel it? Do you feel how your body was made for this?” His whispers can barely be heard over the reverb of him slamming into me over and over again.
Tears well in my eyes as the pain gives way to pleasure, and I nod desperately to his question. He keeps thrusting into me, his hands on my hips eternally pulling me back towards him just so he can ram into me again. The friction of Eli rushing in and out of me is so intense I cry out. It was like a switch flipped in him.
He starts slamming into me over and over again, his grunts becoming uncontrollable.
“So good…you’re doing so…oh…good, such a good girl,” he pants into my neck as he speeds up. I can barely contain myself, every twitch he has inside me causes obscenities from the both of us. He hits such a sweet spot inside me I can’t help but shout.
“Oh…god..oh my god…I-“
“Yes my girl,” he pleads with me as if he is performing and exorcism.
“The devil is leaving you”
Eli’s voice is picking up in volume as his rhythm picks up the pace.
“Yes…yes please…please let him out”
“Let him out my girl, you need to scream it”
“Eli I dont-“
My response is quickly cut short by Eli taking a hand off my hip and grabbing my hair in a fist. He pulls my head completely back, so far I can see the top of his eyes looking at me with an unwavering determination. I shout out in pain, but he needed me to be louder. His fingers are interlocked in my hair, every thrust in, he pulls my head back again. If he wants me to scream I will. I felt pressure inside me building up, and one particularly strong thrust sent me careening over the edge. I yelled out every piece of anger and pleasure he had ever made me feel. Everytime he stared at me during sermons, everytime he whispered to me in the confessional, everytime he gripped my hands as if I was a person of utter sin. Every single instance could be heard in my voice as it rang in our ears and echoed off of the walls. Eli yelled with me as if to aid the escape of the devil. His scream added to our combined climax. He exploded in the back of me and I felt it drip down the inside of my thigh. He tried to sound masculine in his finishing but his leftover whimpers from overstimulation said something otherwise. He gently backed out of me and buckled his trousers once again.
“I will be speaking to your father this afternoon.” he says quietly, as if he was telling me the morning hymn. I look at him with confusion.
“Whatever for?”
“So I can ask for your hand in marriage.” He responds simply.
“What??” I yelp, and it echos off the walls just as our combined moans had.
“If you were to marry another man, it would be considered adultery. What we did was necessary for your soul, but the only way forward for you is to marry me.”
That is the moment I realize, I am a fool.
He wanted to trap me all along, to ruin me for every other man. He wanted to ensure that I could never be with anyone but him, so I could never endanger his position of power with my disbelief. He never wanted to save my soul, he only wanted to get ahead of a problem. How clever. How angering.
“Eli, do you even love me?” I ask softly.
Shock registers on his face, his cheeks still rosy from our body heat.
“Love you? I need you. You’re the only one here smart enough to challenge me or make me think. You make me feel alive. You complete me, in a way no other person ever has. You may be headstrong, but a good husband can fix that. I will be a good husband.”
He cups my face in his hands, I can feel the warmth emanating from them.
“I saved you. if I can save you, I can save anyone.”
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no hate but i cannot view eli sunday as a dom for my life, hes just too pathetic and whiny it feels wrong 😭😭
this will not stop me from reading those fics tho i will take anything i can get
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kinktober day xxv. DACRYPHILIA – eli sunday
word count: ~500
tags: mommy kink (not sorry), missionary, unsafe sex, bitch baby eli aka canon eli
masterlist | ao3
“Oh, Mommy!”
Eli cries out as you clench around him, the warmth and pure wetness of your arousal becoming almost too much for him. You look up at him, smiling from your position in missionary– he insisted upon it for the first time you let him inside of you.
“You’re being such a good boy, aren’t you? Making Mommy feel so good…”
His hips stutter at your words, and Eli has to bite his lip to stop himself from releasing embarrassingly early. His thrusts are quick, but hard– he wanted, no, needed to make you come. You clench down on his length as he ruts up against your cervix, and the subconscious movement has quite the effect on him.
Eli chokes out a moan and leans over you with an almost pained expression written all over his face. Before you can coddle him and ask if he’s okay, tears begin to spill from his eyes as he starts to thrust again.
"Mommy, mommy, mommy– oh, God!”
Your face lights up in pure delight as you watch the pleasure envelop his entire being, “You’re doing so good, baby, you look so pretty like this…”
Eli cries out again, his face still scrunched up as his breath becomes even more ragged, “Wanna be so good for you, Mommy, oh!”
Reaching down to rub at your clit, you feel his tears pooling at your navel as he thrusts desperately into you. It felt so dirty getting off even faster because of his emotional outburst, but how could you help it when he looked so damn pathetic?
He watches as you pleasure yourself and bites his lip, sniffling, “Are… oh God, please, are you gonna come, Mommy?”
You nod quickly, “Gonna come all because of you, pretty boy, just you–!”
Eli speeds up at your blunt words, and your back arches as you abruptly feel yourself releasing. You watch through bleary eyes as a sickly sweet smile grows upon his face as you clench even harder around him.
“Come on, Eli, baby… fill Mommy up, you can do it.”
Your whispered encouragement has him whimper loudly as he quickly comes inside of you– as if all he needed was your command. He collapses onto your chest, face buried in the crook of your neck as he allows himself to fully sob.
“Thank you, thank you, (Y/N)…”
Excusing his minor slip-up in honorifics, you shush him and stroke his hair, “You did so good, baby, I’m so proud of you.”
You hold your tongue as he cries further, trying to ignore that arousal building up inside of you yet again.
taglist:
@sunpuffsstuff @abrcmswrld
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ok to add on to that one eli sunday confessional booth thought….he would totally jerk off while ur confessing about how u touch urself
After several minutes of describing how you touch yourself in excruciating detail, your final confession is that the only person you think of while you do is Eli, and suddenly you hear strained groans and labored breaths from the other side. Maybe you’d go over to the other side and catch him exposed. And maybe then uh.... fuck him in the ass like he deserves 🥰
#tw suggestive#suggestive#nsft#danonation#danocel#eli sunday smut#eli sunday x reader#eli sunday#priest kink#hierophilia
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So inspired by this…..
May I humbly request the most dirty, fucknasty sex with the Paul Dano character of your choice
Oh I can't stop thinking about some fucknasty sex with Eli Sunday 🥵🥵🥵 thanks for giving me the chance to write this delaney!!
Eli Sunday x Femme! Reader
Warnings: smut (18+ only), piv sex, name-calling/degradation, overstim, hair-pulling, spanking, pain kink kind of, dom! eli/sub! reader, lots of religious references, dub-con vibes. Let me know if I missed anything 😚
"Say it."
You can't catch your breath. There are splinters across your stomach from the rough wood, the edge of the table a tattooed bruise on your hips, and it aches with every harsh thrust. You've never felt such an exquisite pain.
Until he stopped.
You manage a whine, shifting on the balls of your feet, hoping that some movement from you would fracture his restraint, but you're met instead with the harsh smack of his palm against your bare ass, his thumb digging into the meat of it until you cry out.
"Say it," he urges again, and the fingers of his other hand thread into your hair at the base of your scalp, pulling back until your spine arches and you can see the holy wrath in his eyes.
"I'm a whore."
He groans, cock twitching where he's buried it deep in your cunt, and he thrusts into you again—slower, deeper. You clench around him, shocks of pleasure traveling down your back and making your knees go weak.
"Say it again."
He lets you fall unceremoniously back against the table, pressing the heel of his hand against your spine, until you're left struggling ineffectually against the weight of him, the wood grain imprinting on your cheek.
"I'm a whore, Eli," you tell him, his every thrust met with the wet kiss of your cunt, and you know he's close by the heavy sound of his breathing, the way his fingers grip at your flesh like it might offer him salvation. "I'm your whore."
He moans, high and keening.
"You are a whore," he says with the sacred weight of a sermon, interspersed with heavy breaths, "you are a sinner, and a temptress and a whore."
But the pattern of his thrusts only becomes more erratic, and he slides his long fingers between your lips, pinching and rolling at your clit until you're writhing like a person possessed.
Whether you find heaven or hell at the end of this, he wants to be certain you reach it together.
It hits you first—the overwhelming pleasure of your rebellion, melts through you to satiate a hunger you could never starve yourself from.
Then the heat becomes too much, and still he doesn't pull away. Your cries don't deter him as the pleasure veers more closely towards pain, and his hands work more harshly at your core, the head of his cock assaulting that same point inside you until you belly swims with fear at what could come next.
"Eli," you try to warn him, trying to grip at whatever part you could reach, to push him away.
He pins your wrist against the table, holds you in place with the pressure of his chest as he leans in close. Your body rebels, legs shaking.
"You're a whore—my whore. And you'll be done when I say."
His whispers brush against the sweaty skin of your cheek, cooling the burning tears that streak from your eyes when the overwhelming light takes you again.
If you thought you knew heaven before . . .
#eli sunday smut#eli sunday x you#eli sunday x reader#eli sunday#paul dano#dano nation#danonation#requests#my writing#delaney tag 💖#minors dni#twbb
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Candlelight
Cw: loss of virginity, piv sex
Eli groaned as he settled on the edge of the bed to untie his shoes while you shed your dress and hastily pull your nightgown over your head while his back was still turned.
“I enjoyed today,” he says suddenly. “Did you have a nice time?”
You hear his shoes clunk on the floor and shuffling as he begins to dress for bed. Eli’s near-nudity didn’t make you nearly as nervous as the prospect of him seeing you. You’d seen him in his boxers countless times when you had gone swimming together in your youth. Things were so different now, but at the end of the day, Eli was still the same boy you had spent almost your entire life beside.
“Of course I did, I married an amazing man.”
He pauses for a brief moment, before resuming his present task. “What about the house? Do you like the house?”
Oh he was so terribly nervous. Before the wedding, Eli was as composed as a monk, calling on the pastor from the next town over to officiate, calmly instructing the women of the congregation on how to decorate the church. He had it all together while you clambered for your composure just outside the door, waiting for your cue.
But here he was, anxious now as you were earlier that morning, questioning if you were actually happy with the life the two of you were building. The house he had had built for the two of you to live in was beautiful. A small place with three bedrooms, settled under the big tree not far from the church. Asking him for anything more would be foolish. It was perfect as it was.
“I’d love anything you gave me,” you reply, pulling back the covers and slipping into the bed.
He sighs deeply. “That’s not what- please be honest.”
“Darling, it’s a very nice house. Don’t be so nervous, I’m just your wife.”
Eli slips into the bed beside you, leaning against the headboard, smiling softly when you roll over to face him.
“That’s the terror of it. I’ve married the woman I’ve loved since I was a child. I don’t know where to go from here.”
“As sentimental as ever,” you chide jokingly, moving to rest your head on his thigh, tugging the blanket around your face. “I thought I had lost you when you gave your life over to God.”
Eli had suddenly become a zealot when he was fifteen, turning almost all of his attention to the scripture. He’d left town when he was seventeen to study under another Pastor a few towns over, returning when he was nineteen and promptly asking you to allow him to formally court you. He was your childhood sweetheart, so naturally you agreed, and so did your parents, thinking that a man of God would be good to tame your wild nature.
Ever the untamed child you were, always coming home after dark with scraped knees and bruises from falling out of trees, a sheepish Eli trailing behind you, knowing he was going to be punished for being late, but refusing to leave you. Summer days spent holed up in a blackberry thicket gorging yourself on the sweet fruits, face and fingers sticky, bathing in the pond after to rid yourself of the feeling, returning home hours later in your soaked shift, dress thrown haphazardly over your shoulder as you darted past your neighbors to avoid being seen.
As you’d grown older, Eli was less resistant to going swimming with you, then laying in the sun in the grass, chatting as you waited for your underclothes to dry, sometimes stealing a kiss or two if one of you felt brave that day. You two had been especially close in the weeks right before Eli had disappeared. When he did, you’d grieved him like he was dead, despite his folks and yours assuring you it was only a temporary arrangement.
Even though Eli was a ‘Pious’ man, and in all technicality, in charge of you, he let you do as you pleased, not having it in his heart to stamp out your youthful nature. He preached his sermons and then followed you to the pond to swim for a few hours before walking you home for the evening. He’d return right after breakfast the next morning to get you and not be surprised when he was informed that you’d already been gone for hours. When he would find you perched in a tree, munching on whatever fruit grew there, he would join you, talking for hours or sitting in silence. It didn’t matter much to him, he was just happy to be back.
“I gave myself to God so I didn’t humiliate myself. I was so young and immature I surely would have driven you away. I had to put the energy elsewhere.”
You chuckle and wrap your arms around his leg. “It’d take an act of God to get rid of me.”
“Don’t say that,” he laughs, running his fingers through your hair, fighting the urge to admit that the prospective act of God terrified him.
“Sorry,” you hum, pulling his leg closer to your body.
“I’m joking, darling. You usually wrap your hair when you sleep, what’s changed?” Oh he just loved bringing up the time he walked in on you in your night clothes a few months ago after forgetting to knock. You could have very well been nude. Had he no shame?
“Aren’t pastor’s wives supposed to be plain, besides, don’t we have ‘marital duties’ to carry out?”
Eli chuckles at your comment and prys your hands from him so he can settle himself beside you. “I’d have to go blind to see you as plain. We only have to lay together if you’d like to, I’ve abstained long enough that I don’t think a while more will kill me.”
“I’ve always been curious as to what it’s like. I wouldn’t mind,” you hum, pulling yourself to rest on his chest, basking in the rise and fall of his breath and the gentle thrum of his heartbeat.
His heart stutters at your words. “Has nobody told you what it’s like?”
“No, mother said it was unladylike to speak about it so we never did.”
“When have you ever been ladylike? It’s almost cruel, sending you into the lion’s den unarmed. My father sat me down to talk about it once, right before I left. It was uncomfortable,” he pauses and releases a breath. “He went into excruciating detail about… many things. Perhaps that’s what drove me away. I believe I was too young to fathom the complexity of the situation then.”
“How do you mean,” You question, propping yourself up on his chest watching as he thinks carefully of his answer, a soft pink dusting his cheeks, drawing a smile to your lips.
“I couldn’t connect the feeling, the… experience to the explanation. Youth is overzealous with emotion. It drives to the point of madness, there was no time to truly think on it. I believe I have a firmer grasp on it now,” he hums, bumping his forehead against yours.
Eli’s in a state you’ve never seen him in, his pupils blown wide, his face flushed, lips parted slightly, warm breath ghosting against your lips as you gaze down at him. You bring the hand not supporting you up to tangle in his chestnut hair, leaning down, brushing your lips softly against his before kissing him warmly. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into him as he follows your lips with his, urging you to kiss him more harshly, and you do. You’re fervent, soft flesh against flesh, and mess of teeth and tongue and obscenely wet sounds as the two of you become closer than you’ve ever been.
You whine when he bites your lip a bit too harshly, almost drawing blood, but he realizes his wrongdoing and quickly soothes it with his tongue. One hand moves up to hold the back of your head while the other trails down your side to grip your thigh with almost bruising vigor, urging you to straddle his thigh. You allow him to pull your leg where he wants it, settling into your new place over him. Eli falls back against his pillow, heaving for breath, saliva trailing down his chin, a dopey smile gracing his lips as he slyly brings his thigh up between yours, making your breathing hitch in your throat at the friction, a warmth pooling in your belly, familiar but not.
“Have you- Have you ever…touched yourself,” he asks, innocently enough, leaning up to press his lips briefly against yours again.
“No.”
“Oh, God,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut, pushing his head back into the pillow. His hands roam up your back, bunching your nightgown in his hands as they fall to rest on your hips, pulling you into his thigh, drawing a soft moan from your lips. “M-May I,” he murmurs, tugging on the cloth to distinguish his intentions.
“Yes,” you whisper back, pulling away to allow him to pull your nightgown over your head, leaving you completely bare before him. His cheeks flush a deeper shade of crimson and he looks away for a moment before focusing his gaze back on your face. “You look almost as embarrassed as I feel.”
Eli opens his mouth to speak, promptly closing it and furrowing his eyebrows. “I’ve just never seen a woman like this is all.”
“And I’ve never been seen,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.
He chuckles, scrunching up his nose and bringing a hand up to run his thumb along your cheek. “Nothing to be ashamed of, you’re amazing. Kiss me?”
You lean down, and bump your nose against his before pressing your lips to his, and he kisses you the way he had before, drawing physical reactions from you. HIs hand gives your waist another squeeze before shifting his weight, rolling you onto your back and following close behind. Your breath hitches in your throat as you realize you’re suddenly at his mercy. The scraggly, unimposing boy you had known had grown into a man during his time away, still far from intimidating, but Eli was of his own will now, knowing what he wanted and he had the means to get it. You wouldn’t oppose him even if you wanted to.
The sound Eli makes when he ruts his hips against yours floods you with unfamiliar emotions, urging his body closer to yours. Despite your urging, he pulls away, taking you in, his brows furrowing again, his eyes drifting to the side as he thinks. Finally he decides his course of action and pulls one of your legs up to his shoulder, kissing your ankle chastely. He works his way up your leg, his kisses becoming harsher as he reaches the tender skin of your inner thigh before stopping. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging softly to encourage him to continue whatever it was he was planning.
He buries his face in between your legs, his tongue carefully testing your reaction. When you whine and fist his hair more harshly, he takes it as a sign that he’s pleasing you. It’s clear from his uncertainty that he’s inexperienced, his mouth moving hesitantly against you as he gauges each reaction separately. He’s a fast learner, doubling down on the motions that draw the most from you, reveling in the way your back arches and your thighs squeeze around his head.
You whimper above him, attempting to squirm away from him, prompting him to grab your thighs and pull you back to him. The pleasure he takes in knowing he’s the only one that’s ever made you feel like this, that he’s the only one that you’ve let please you, it’s almost too much for him to bear. He releases one of your thighs, bringing his fingers to tease at your entrance, gathering the slick combination of your arousal and his saliva on them before carefully easing them into you.
A moan tumbles from your lips at the sensation. Eli’s fingers are almost skillful as they curl into you, beckoning you closer and closer to the edge. And then you’re there, falling over with a cry of his name, pulling him closer and squeezing him with your thighs as he pulls you through your orgasm. The sensation’s so unfamiliar that you don’t even register that it’s too much until you’re trembling and pushing him away.
When Eli pulls himself away from you he looks as wrecked as you feel, his hair mussed, chin slick with you, gasping for breath as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Are you- okay? Was that good?”
All you can do is nod and whine, opening your arms to him weakly. He accepts your offer and settles his head on your chest, taking notice of how erratic your heart is in your chest, of how he made it that way. He stretches up to kiss you again. It’s rougher than he would have liked, but he’s still worked up, straining painfully against his cotton shorts as he does his best to keep his composure for your sake.
“Eli, what about you,” you ask, sliding your hand down his back, toying with the waistband of his shorts.
“I’m fine, you don’t have to-”
“I want to, besides, it doesn’t really count if we don’t right?”
“Okay, are you sure you’re ready,” he asks, propping himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, taking in your soft expression.
“Of course,” you reply, smiling innocently as you push his shorts off his hips. He kicks them the rest of the way off. The sudden realization that Eli is completely naked has you putting all of your focus into maintaining eye contact.
“Nervous,” he teases, leaning down to kiss you.
“Me? Never,” you counter, your fingers cautiously crossing the space between you and taking hold of him. His cock is heavy in your hand, your touch making his breath catch in his throat helplessly. Eli’s hips fall into place as you open yourself to him. His hand comes down to guide your hand in lining him up with your entrance, whining as he teases himself against you.
Eli groans and drops his head into the crook of your shoulder as he pushes into you, just barely, slowly easing himself in, giving you time to stretch around him. You grip his shoulder, nails leaving crescent imprints as his hips finally meet yours, a breathy sigh falling from his lips at the sensation. The fullness he brings is almost too much, tears brim in your eyes as Eli brings his forehead to rest against yours, a sign of affection he had been giving you for years when he didn’t know what else to say or do, just a gentle reminder that he’s there with you. It was comforting and familiar despite all the new things you had done together already that day.
“Eli,” you breathe, leaning up to brush your nose against his. “I’m okay, you can, you can move now.” He nods against you and pulls his hips away slowly, the drag making you both moan. Eli sets a slow pace, bringing his hand to rest on the side of your neck, thumb caressing the curve of your cheekbone as he leans to kiss you.
His thrusts become sloppy as he gets closer to his own high, moving his hand from your face down between you, clumsily trying to get you to finish before him, groaning when you tighten around him. You fall over first, wrapping your legs around his back as his hips stutter and he spills inside you. He drops his body onto yours haphazardly, completely spent, groaning and kissing you despite fighting for his breath.
When he pulls away an emptiness follows, making you want to hold him closer as he settles on his side of the bed facing you. “Was that good? Do you need anything?”
You just nod and pull yourself towards him, resting your head on his chest, listening as his heart rate slowly returns to normal. “It was good, you don’t have to keep asking. Just hold me.”
“Okay,” he murmurs, you can hear the soft smile in his voice even though you can’t see him. He wraps his arms around you and strokes your hair as the two of you drift off to sleep together.
#texas thinks#eli sunday x reader#twbb#there will be blood#smut#fluff#fanfic#married life#tw religion#extra fluffy#soft Eli Sunday
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NSFW Alphabet | Eli Sunday x fem!Reader
Eli Sunday x fem!Reader
Author’s Note | ugh, the amount of times that Sophia and I have brainstormed over this man in particular…I think too many things about him. So I hope y’all enjoy lol.
Warnings | smut (MDNI), religious themes, sprinkles of misogyny all throughout, nothing else I can think of!
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Eli is naturally a very caring person. Aftercare--even if he's inexperienced--comes easily to him. He gets very sentimental and caring of you; definitely asks a lot of questions. He'll make sure you're not hurting anywhere and that if you're not in bed, that you can stand up straight. His hand stays planted on your hip, keeping you steady, even if his own knees wobble. He also likes kissing you deeply after each round. He worries too much (especially when he gets rougher) about sex becoming more of a chore for you. So he latches his lips on yours languidly just to highlight his connection with you. He can't let you forget how much he loves you, silly!
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Eli didn’t put much thought into his body until his later teen years. When all the young men around Little Boston started going out and getting married, he wondered why he didn’t receive any of the attention they did. He quickly concluded that it was probably his body. The years of working on his father’s ranch only made him leaner, not more built like many of the other men. But, he quite likes his shoulders and his arms. They’re not packed with muscles, but they’re still strong. He comes to enjoy being as slim as he is. Because even though not being perceived as an intimidating man can be troublesome, he much prefers being viewed as a gentle, compassionate man; one who will envelop any one of his congregation members into a warm embrace with his long arms.
He loves your belly. Loves the softness and how his lips sink into the flesh so easily when he trails kisses down it, preparing to go down on you. Not only does he like the softness, but he likes imagining it being full with his child one day. He takes special care to check if there’s something growing in there if you’re actively trying to have a child with him. He’ll lay his head across your stomach softly and listen, as if he’ll feel some sort of tremor beneath him.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Eli only ever wants to cum inside of you. He wouldn’t want to cum anywhere else because that would only be a “waste” of his seed. Don't worry, we'll be touching on the breeding kink later on!
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Our sweet little preacher boy fantasizes about you a LOT. Like way more than he would like to. And it happens during the most random points of his day. While he's preaching. While he's walking home. Having dinner. In bed. He gets the most vivid, sudden images. It takes him a while to act upon those visions. He's terrified of you thinking he's some sort of demon of a man; a man shouldn't want his wife in as many ways as he wants you, right? He suppresses a lot of it out of shame and god forbid you ever walk in on him handling those pesky visions on his own.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
This man has NO CLUE what he is doing. Of course he waited until after marriage. That doesn’t leave him with much of an idea on how everything works. And assuming you’ve been a good girl, you wouldn’t know either. But, if anything, Eli finds that more beautiful than anything else. It's a journey, getting to know you at the exact same time as you're getting to know yourself. It's full of trial and error but it doesn't get awkward too often. Eli is too intense of a man to let the little things shake his resolve.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Eli can go with almost every position but he will never turn down some good old fashioned missionary or a mating press. Because he's inexperienced, he knows nothing other than the standard idea of men leading. He would enjoy switching roles and playing the submissive, but it would take a bit of teaching to break down the barriers in his head. Being anything other than a top would have him worried that he's showing weakness. As long as you reassure him, he can get into being your sweet boy.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Eli is deadly serious about sex. He doesn’t make jokes. Nor is he the most smooth or suave about it. But he is extremely intimate every time. It isn't just simple pleasure. It's an act of devotion. It's him showing you how much he loves you. So of course he treats sex with the weight and respect he thinks it deserves.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Bright eyed and bushy tailed Eli doesn’t really care too much about grooming himself. But as he gets further into sin and worldly delights, it’s a must to keep his appearance as smooth as possible. That includes his pubic hair. He doesn’t go fully shaved but maintains a neat, trimmed little bush of sandy brown hair around his beautiful cock.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Eli is intense. Very intense. In his mind, the entire appeal of having sex is rooted in closeness and connection, not just pleasure. Yeah, the pleasure he feels on its own is fun. But being able to make you feel those things too? That's half the reason he wants it so bad. He whispers little prayers and promises to you. He's going to make you cum so hard tonight. You're going to be his forever. He's also all about peppering little kisses all over your body, cherishing every piece of you until you're well aware of how loved and appreciated and known you are in his arms.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Masturbation is a heavy taboo for Eli. I think the first few times he gets an erection, he has no clue what it means. Probably thinks he’s sick. And he finds out almost by accident what he’s supposed to do with it. He tries to press it down against his mattress. But that only makes it worse as he rustles in the night. He very quickly discovers that if he angles his hips just right and ruts into the mattress…that rigid problem softens pretty quickly after that.
He uses his hand every once in a while but it makes him feel too guilty. The first time he gets the courage to fuck his tightly clenched fist, he cums so quickly and so intensely that he cries a bit. And though the pleasure waves through his body delightfully, he has a hard time sleeping knowing how he’d just violated himself. So he sticks with the mattress whenever he absolutely can’t control himself.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
First and foremost, this man has a breeding kink. We all know this one. And if you don’t know, then how?? We should all know by now that this man of God would be DYING to impregnate you. Not only because he would love to see you pregnant, but also because being a father would be a total ego trip for him. He’d take pride in being a better father than his own. Abel was stupid. So he takes it as a challenge to not pass that foolishness down his genetic line. He’s extremely eager to make you all big and full of children. Would say in the heat of the moment, Be a good little wife for me, Mrs. Sunday. Give me a quiver full.
This man is a sucker for orgasm denial. He likes edging you and also being edged himself. Mostly because it takes him a bit of self control and effort in controlling his climaxes; so being denied the release only prolongs and intensifies his pleasure. He enjoys denying your orgasm because it’s a power and control thing.
Eli goes insane for cockwarming. This ties a lot in with orgasm denial. He loves the idea of holding you in place on his lap while he reads. Loves when you start to squirm so he can say, Patience, my darling. Patience. It gives him such a power trip. Because, yes, you’re on top of him but he has all of the control on the situation. And if you want to have a satisfying climax, you’ll have to follow his directions.
He also completely has a thing for free use. You are his spouse. That means being there for him in every way that you possibly can. Being a prophet, the weight of the world is constantly on his shoulders. So he needs the option of sex to be on the table at all times. He isn't completely selfish, however. He'd encourage you to come to him whenever your little heart desires as well. If you were nervous about it, he'd get the biggest kick out of encouraging you. It almost feels like he's corrupting you; making you more confident in your carnal cravings for him. But if you have no trouble with jumping his bones, he doesn't have any trouble either. Either way, he wants to see the fire in your eyes and hopes you can see his as well.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Truly, Eli could do it anywhere. He likes the risk of touching you in public, most definitely. But, more than anything, he's an old fashioned bedroom kind of guy. He worships you on your marital bed and that's the most divine thing for him.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
One word: domesticity. He doesn’t see himself as being a very powerful man. He's wiry and fragile. But, having a creature that--according to God's law--is to submit to him...that makes him go wild. Something about your undying obedience and dedication to him gets him going. He feels it most when you're doing some little task. Cooking dinner. Sewing. Cleaning your home. He gets possessive and wants you immediately.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Eli may like pushing the limits, but he wouldn't physically hurt you. For example, knives or any other weapons are completely off the table. Bloodplay is an absolute no. He'd never forgive himself if he lost himself in the experience (which can happen often) and lost your trust or your life in the process..
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Eli looooves giving. Truthfully, he is absolutely enamored by the well between your legs and loves exploring it. He’s very untrained though, obviously since he grew up very sexually repressed.
He won’t object to receiving but it takes him a little while to not feel guilty seeing you on your knees for him. As soon as he becomes more used to it, he gets really DEEPLY into it. It's another piece of control he loves to exert over you. How sweet you look, taking his twitching cock down that smooth, pretty throat of yours. He feels especially prideful knowing he is the only man who gets to feel the swipe of your tongue over his weeping tip.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Eli can easily slip from passionate lovemaking to being rough and domineering to submissively following your every signal. Eli is the definition of RANGE when it comes to the speed and the tone. It's mostly because he is so inexperienced? He's nervously eager to explore what paces might be most doable for him and most pleasurable for you.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Oh, this man isn’t a fan of quickies. He’s fine with the occasional one, just to release the tension, but he’s truly much more of a fan of taking his time. You deserve hours upon hours of foreplay and as many rounds as he can manage to give. He would completely wear himself out for you.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
In the beginning, he doesn't like taking risks. He's just starting to get to know your body and wouldn't want to risk causing any sort of damage. As he becomes more familiar with your body and your limitations, however, he is tentatively open for most anything you may want. But even if he's into something you want, he'll reframe it as though it was your idea and that you're just dragging him along for the ride.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Eli is super sensitive at first and will finish super quickly. He simply had no clue that this level of pleasure even existed. So now that he’s had a taste of it, he wants more and more all of the time. This is nothing like the shameful little climaxes he would have alone in his bedroom in the dead of night. This was connecting with another person in one of the most intimate ways possible. So even though he doesn’t always last long, he can go for four or five rounds.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
This is the 1900s. To quote my Percy alphabet, it’s not like they had Hitachi magic wands floating around back then. Even if they were around, Eli would see most toys as unnatural. And with sex being so intimate for him, he wouldn’t be into the idea of making you feel good with something other than a part of him.
It’s not that it makes him insecure of his own skill level. He could make you crumble in seconds, he's quite confident in that. Sex is just very intimate to him. He simply doesn’t feel as strong of a connection if it’s not his skin against yours; his flesh making yours shiver.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Eli is such a tease. Not in a silly, joking way, however. More in the sense that he wants to have you whimpering and crying for him, basically begging for him to let you cum. A common thread in a lot of his view of sex is the dynamics of control. So when he can adequately put you in your place and get you practically worshiping him...he is a very happy man.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Eli is still used to living under his family's roof and having to stifle the sound of his undoing with his pillow. When he's with you, he tries to bite into his fist to dampen the sound but of course you pry his hand away and convince him to let it all out. He's not too loud, but he's definitely vocal. He lets out high pitched whines, breathy gasps, and strangled groans that signal how terribly you ruin him.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Eli can’t help but put on his preaching lilt during sex. He channels all of his passion into a good sermon. He has a sense of drama and theatrics. Knows exactly how to keep his congregation on its toes with a simple shift in tone. So it’s natural that it comes through during sex. He sounds possessed by some higher power in those moments with the singsong inclination of his voice. His words are smooth and carefully chosen; all done with the purpose of easing the deepest, darkest demons from you.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
I imagine that Eli has the prettiest cock ever. He’s a good five or six inches when hard but his skin flushes such a pretty pink. And his tip definitely flushes a throbbing red. He's not particularly thick either. But it's a perfectly average, pretty cock.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
This man…he doesn't think he'd be that interested in sex outside of the purposes of procreation. But as soon as he gets a taste of you, he won't want to stop. Maybe it's the repression or the idea of this pleasure being something of a forbidden fruit for him. But he gets addicted quickly. Some mornings he wakes up with sex being literally the only thing floating around in his sweet little mind and he'll be inconsolable until he gets it.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Eli can get very sleepy. But he'd stay awake just to listen to you hum through the aftershocks of a climax. He'll ask a dozen little slurred questions from how exhausted he is. Eli will also rub your back until you fall asleep; tracing lazy patterns along your spine and pressing kisses on your shoulder than are so faint that you only feel the warmth of his lips instead of the pressure. His eyes flutter shut the second he hears your breathing steady.
#danonation#paul dano#danocel#there will be blood#eli sunday#eli sunday x reader#eli sunday x you#eli sunday x y/n#eli sunday smut#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚
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that thang you wrote about eli’s corruption kink has me going insane. like holy shit you have no idea.
hehehe >:]
hes manipulative in a hot way. like yes, of course him gagging you on his cock will strengthen your relationship with christ, father eli knows best! youre just a sweet misguided little lamb, he can ensure you'll make it to heaven when your time comes, all you have to do is be obedient and let him use your pretty holes <3
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