#xozombiee
Note
need reader to have a confession with priest!geto about how they feel guilty for touching themselves late alone at night and priest!geto helps them by just fucking their brains out as a “penance” for their sins.
yes, i’m okay in the head btw! (lie)
AU REVOIR, O HEAVEN !
wc: 12.2k
warnings: DARK CONTENT, SLOW BUILDUP, CORRUPTION, priest!geto, fem!reader, age gap (reader is in early 20s, geto in late 20s), long descriptive fic that goes in depth of christian lore, lots and lots of christian references / metaphors / analogies, comparison to Satan’s banishment and fall from heaven, religious themes used in inappropriate ways, questions of religion and life, multiple scenes of f! and m! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, virginity loss, both f! and m! receiving oral, cumshot, praise, degradation, spitting, sex in a religious place, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut
for a small town like yours, it was a no-brainer that everyone knew everyone; and everyone’s drama as well. from the baker’s daughter being a whore to the mayor of the town being sacked for purposes that have since been twisted by word of mouth. that was another thing: word got around fast, and it was particularly suffocating in a conservative town such as yours. people were not outright about the obvious choices they favoured, but there was the older generation who were not shy to turn down progressive ideas.
because of that, the previous priest was kicked out because of the misuse of funds from mass collection and offertory. it was one thing to see a bunch of notes missing from the sack and the money counter but it was another thing to see that money going into funding a new strip club that was opening in the next town over.
it was simply unheard of, and the parishioners basically gave him a free ride to that very strip club by excommunicating him from his own church. it was unbecoming of a priest, especially in such a small congregation that everyone made sure the new priest to transfer here was a God-honouring one.
you hope he was. you’ve always felt the obligated need to serve your god and your parents. always the good girl, following the Ten Commandments, saving yourself for marriage. it was the natural order of a christian, and you could only hope that you’d get even a fraction of the eternal life they preach about in mass. but lately you’ve been having some . . thoughts, and you pray that this new priest could help you immensely, even if you had to do a hundred Hail Mary’s at the pews.
it was peculiar, the first time it occurred to you. the area where your body separates into two and forms two legs — the centre of it all, the middle where Eve had it covered in statues and paintings with a leaf, the middle where you had only learned of it in anatomical drawings. you knew what the vagina, cervix and the ovaries were, but seeing the convergence of pink and maroon between your legs confused you, even scared you.
and the next was when you’d had a guy come up to you whilst doing up your university application, saying something along the lines of how cute you were, would you like to grab a drink some time? and you were left dumbfounded and unable to answer. you let your eyes travel over his features, of the exposed arms of his button up shirt and the thickness of his forearms, you let your eyes skim over his plump thighs before you’re asked “are you okay?”
“n . . no sorry, i already have a boyfriend.” you lie through your teeth and all the guy does is sigh before walking away — but now you’re left with a bigger problem . . why was the thing between your legs throbbing? you swear you can feel your panties getting wet as well, but you aren’t quite sure why.
that night you’re lying in bed with a lewd website shining right in your face, as you’ve laid here for about two hours already, going through in your head whether you really wanted to do this. your hands had been clean, untainted from the moment you were born, but you imagine going to university and knowing not a thing about sex and that makes your whole body burn in embarrassment.
you chicken out and fall asleep.
“honey! come down here, i want you to meet someone.” your mother calls out to you, running about like she usually does. she’s always overworking — caring for the newborn, cooking the meals, cleaning the place. why don’t you ask dad to help sometimes? / nonsense! he works so hard and deserves a break! i don’t mind. / but he just lazes around at home after work . .
you’re pleasantly surprised to find a long-haired man at your front door, clad in a thick and loose turtleneck sweater with a gentle smile on his face. that uncomfortable feeling returns to your core and you land a hand to your stomach to calm the churning that’s happening.
“hello, and you are?”
you’d never think you would see one of God’s angels on earth in actual flesh in front of you. you’re convinced God is looking over you and you think you might see heaven when that silky voice repeats himself again.
“hi, kind miss, are you alright?”
“h . . huh? oh! yeah, uhm— who are you?”
your mother smacks you on your shoulder and sidles up to your side, holding onto your arm a little tightly that it hurts just a bit.
“don’t be rude!” she whisper-shouts to you, “this is geto suguru, and—”
“and i’m the new priest for the church.”
that catches you off-guard. he’s the new priest that was just transferred over? he looks anything but a holy man of God, what with his long hair and gauges in his ears; if you didn’t know any better you would think he was the one paying for the strip club instead. he seems to read your mind.
“i know i look . . a bit of a delinquent, miss, but i promise you the word of God is what i strictly live by. i honour and praise him with all that i can.”
“ah, i’m sorry if you thought i thought that way, father.” you mumble, giving him an awkward smile that he misses because he’s too busy focusing on the way you say father. you’re prepared to close the door on him already; the pulsing sensation between your legs isn’t fading and your whole body feels like it burns in hell. you rub your thighs together for some sort of relief, nothing.
“that’s usually the response i get, so i thought i would preface it first.” a little laugh leaves geto’s lips and if it wasn’t for you holding on for dear life on the door, you definitely would’ve buckled under your knees. “no hard feelings.”
“he’s a charmer, ain’t he?” there’s another sheepish laugh from the pastor at that. “told me he’s been going around giving cakes to all the people as a way to thank them for letting him take over the church.” your heart melts at that — he looked so hot and had a heart of gold, too?
“what cake did you get us, father?” you blurt out and you have no time to take it back, but the preacher doesn’t seem to mind. you also don’t seem to mind that barrier of authority that was established ever since he‘s introduced himself as the new priest of the church. it felt . . friendlier, less intimidating than the previous. it was probably mostly due to him not wearing his cassock or collar, though.
“chocolate.” that one word possibly ignited every nerve in you. the smooth lilt in his voice paired with the slight smirk. it was detrimental. you were going to hell, you were condemned to eternal damnation.
“how’d you know i liked chocolate?”
he shrugs, “lucky guess.” wrong.
he had come around the day before already, but you were too distracted with work and pressured with a deadline that music drained out everything else — one look at your side profile and the hard-working first year university student was all it took for geto to return again today with another cake of your liking. oh! you’re such a sweet one for asking what flavour we like; frankly, my dear boy, my husband and i don’t really eat cake but her . . loves it for some reason. i wonder where she gets the sweet tooth from, honestly.
geto could only thank his saviour that your mother had promised not to tell you he already came around yesterday. and it looks like she didn’t.
“i should get going, miss . .”
“(y/n).”
geto simply nods his head, resisting the urge to call your name pretty and only manages a decent call to your mother. “mrs (l/n), i’m heading off, thank you for having me. (y/n).”
you return his smile, hesitantly, inching the door close with immense difficulty — you wanted to see him walk away with that imposing height of his, of the proper gait he carried himself with and the politeness in which he greets people of the town.
that night you locked yourself in your room, muttering out some dumb excuse of having to study for a test when in reality you were more interested in the feeling between your legs. it both excited and scared you when you first find a comfortable position on your bed, stalling for a good half ’n hour before the clinking cutlery of dinner happening downstairs had brought you to your senses. there were countless articles open in your safari tab, none of which helped your growing dilemma — a tear in the Red Sea between the sin of pleasure and the liberation of acting on it. you felt like Moses, treading in the centre, on the fence.
one last text made you yelp out loud.
[8:03 pm, read]: R u coming down 4 dinner?
it was your mother, as if she knew what was happening behind doors.
[8:03 pm, delivered]: nope, sorry mummy. need to study for this test, its important !
[8:05 pm, read]: Alright, alright. I left out a serving of what we cooked tonite. Heat up if u need to with the microwave O.K.? Don’t sleep so late!
you simply favourited her message, losing all motivation from before; until your mind crosses over dinner and goes straight to that chocolate cake, and then to the person who had brought it.
“Farewell happy fields / Where joy forever dwells: Hail, horrors, hail.”
“geto . . geto suguru.” the name feels foreign. it does sound like a countryside name but it felt like he had come from the city instead. “geto . .” you sigh, letting your hands tremble and move along your body. they brush over your chest, over your nipples and you recoil a little from the strange feeling. they harden under your touch as you continue to repeat his name.
each murmur of his name is a step farther from God, dipping your toes into the waters of hell as your fingers travel lower, lower, lower. you press a finger against your clit unknowingly, and you let out a loud moan; you immediately slap a hand over your mouth.
but the pleasure’s too much, and so you try again. one hand goes back to your nipples, squeezing your tits and playing with them while your fingers rub pathetic circles along your core.
“su . .” you gulp. “geto—”
you pant softly to yourself as you continue to rub your clit, messy, inexperienced circles in whatever shape or form. as long as it felt good to you, you were doing it. you made sure to keep your moans in as your hips bucked into your hands, back arching off the bed in needy movements. your hands were getting tired, clutching at the bedsheets.
long hair, built physique, crucifix on his neck. funny, you never noticed that before, but now you imagine it clearly, dangling over your face. you’re imagining geto fucking you, thrusting his cock into you as he groans out your name.
you’re at the end of your tether, feeling the deep plunge of your body in Satan’s lair the same time you cum for the first time in your life and your body shakes so violently. you flail around on your bed, bite into your shirt, anything to keep you quiet from the immense orgasm you had just felt. your pussy clenches around nothing and your hand aches so much it might fall off, but it just feel so damn good that you only have a minute’s rest before you’re rubbing at your clit again.
scooping up a little of your cum, you marvel at the clear liquid, sucking on your finger to try the thing that’s always drenched your panties. and soon you’re conjuring the image of the long-haired priest yet again, never really studying for that test you made up or even eating dinner — all you do is rest and come again, each time more wrecked than the last time.
you dreaded going to church the next morning.
it had slipped your mind that service was to continue once geto has gotten settled down in the rectory, a small outhouse at the back of the church that had been revamped. you’re not sure on how father geto was able to get it done up so fast but, you’re not one to question.
with the short walk to church, you regret not eating the night before, groaning softly at the discomfort of your growling stomach. what you were more worried of though, was what would happen to you once you stepped foot in the church. was your body going to go up in flames? were you going to get ridiculed by the townspeople? were you going to get called out by father geto in front of everyone?
“what’s gotten you so worked up?” your father was walking behind and smoking, as always, not giving a shit about your mother and the newborn.
“nothing . . just, wondering if i got everything in my head for my test.” your mother coos, and your baby brother in the carrier thinks it’s because of him. he babbles into your mom’s shirt, giggling.
“you’ll do fine, honey,” the reassurance worried you only more. you were lying outright — you had no test, you weren’t even studying, you were busy—!
“i raised a smart girl, didn’t i?” you can only manage a smile, reaching the church within minutes. taking the chance to mutter a short prayer and a plea, you take a deep breath and that light from above Lucifer’s kingdom seem to call out to you again.
stepping into the simple but cozy church, you dip your hands in holy water. Father, Son, Holy Spirit along your forehead, chest and shoulders before you trail behind your mother, suggesting places for you to sit at the back. she only waved your hand away, pointing towards the front. we always sit at the front! why the sudden change? / nothing . . maybe thought we could switch it up a little.
the mass starts after a few minutes of waiting, and you have the luxury of wallowing in your self-pity and guilt for those few minutes, trying to get the very filthy imagery of father geto above you, father geto between your legs, father geto himself out of your head. you fail, it’s only amplified when the bell rings and the congregation stands up.
everyone waits in anticipation for the new priest in this small town, hoping he won’t disappoint them like the last one. but they already seem to be in good spirits as he makes the entrance down the very short church. two altar boys follow behind him in the procession, accompanied by an organist and a duo of choir singers, straining to have their voice heard over the loud instrument. he’s already made some friends, nodding to the excited kid who whispers and the shy girl who waves her hands at him. but while everyone feels anticipation in hopes of a good sermon, dread is only making your legs feel like lead, you feel lightheaded, dizzy even.
because whatever you had imagined last night was him in his sweater get-up, and it just now sinks in what a disgusting thing you were doing as you watch the rich purple of his chasuble sway alongside his stole — the very image of him in his priest robes (in Lent season too, not to mention) — meant to deter you from more thoughts, only fed your desires.
geto suguru made being a pastor look so natural, and attractive, that it was almost criminal.
“good morning, brothers and sisters, how are we all doing this morning?” there’s a few murmurs around, but geto doesn’t falter, instead pressing on with his very convincing, beautiful speech; as does he with the rest of the mass. he conducts himself with as much professionalism as he can, handling the Eucharist with proper hands, giving a sermon whilst giving you too many eyes, distributing Holy Communion with a gentle, accepting smile; your skin burnt when he handed you the body of Christ, a soft inaudible “amen” hanging off your lips.
father geto was all the talk after, some hanging around to catch a minute of geto’s time if they could and you were no different, purposely looping your arm through your mother’s and slowly down your pace.
“goin’ out for a smoke.” your father gruffly tells the three of you, two of which understands better. your newborn simply cuddles deeper into your mother’s breast, humming softly into the nap.
“’kay.” it was opportunistic, now, as your eyes flit around the place to find geto talking to two older ladies. he’s politely bent down to reach their heights better, chasuble now removed and simply in his alb, one patting his shoulder and the other giggling. you think you imagine it but his eyes dart over to you for a moment and then off to the other parishioners.
“how are you two lovely ladies doing?” you hear him before you see him and the voice startles you a little, jumping back from brushing your baby brother’s almost non-existent hair.
“fine.” it comes out kurt and abrupt and you burn when your mother nudges you like yesterday.
“think what she means is that we’re perfectly fine. how was your first mass?”
father geto looks around the church, recalls the altar boys, ingrains each church-goer into his head, “i hope the congregation likes me.”
“oh, nonsense! i’m sure they do,” your mother reassures. she was always good like that, putting others before her and making sure they see the best in themselves, “that was a very riveting sermon you delivered.”
“yeah—! yeah, i . . really enjoyed it, father geto.”
a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, “did you now?”
you nod, and he continues, “you enjoyed me telling you that sin was revolting?”
when he phrases it like that . . you swallow, “isn’t that what God’s whole schtick is?”
and that makes father geto laugh, because for such an innocent flower like you, you make it sound like you were forced to go to church and made to learn the basis of why God exists and now you just don’t know what to do with it. it’s common for people at their university age where they’re exposed to more views and mindsets, to question the religion you were born in and think about what it meant to be tied to a god you didn’t even really know existed, and when that happens, Christianity turns stagnant and boring.
“yes, pretty much, miss (y/n), but His schtick also involves forgiving anyone who has sinned against Him. after all, that’s what He died on the cross for.”
“y . . yeah, i know, father geto.”
you only realise now his purple chasuble matches his eyes, eyes that swirl with the colours of amethyst. they’re much brighter in the parish lighting, and they hold your stare much longer than yesterday. there’s the tugging feeling at your stomach again that goes right down to your centre and it throbs; your eyes flutter and blink to get you out of your head.
“good that you know . . of course, it’s not an invitation to sin. self-restraint and chastity still exists,” you hate how he puts an emphasis on the latter word, because he could be referring to anything, “but we need not be worried for our lives. we only need to pray and repent in prayer, and God will have mercy on us.”
but well, if God didn’t want you to sin, how then can he explain creating such an attractive person? if God valued his followers’ self control, why did he have to plant such lewd, inappropriate thoughts of his preacher in your head?
father geto could probably see your dilemma with how hard he was staring at you, and he only makes it worse by putting his larger hand on your left shoulder. it descends deeper to your upper arm and the skin there ignites—
“i hope you liked the chocolate cake.”
you manage a small smile, “haven’t had the chance to try it, sorry, father.”
“don’t apologise.” you forget your mother and baby brother is even beside you with how he talks to you. you’d love to be on his chest, hearing the deep rumbling of his voice or even have his hands be somewhere else but your arm. you don’t know how simply talking to you has got him doing everything in his power to restrain himself; not even a prayer from God could help.
“The mind is its own place, and in it self / Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.”
what you don’t know, either, that the hand on your shoulder was between his legs just last afternoon, trying so hard not to sneak under his cassock. he could barely keep his moans in, palming his bulge from above his robes at the mere thought of you. no touching means less sin, right? he comes to that pathetic conclusion easily, so all he does is bury himself in the outhouse after distributing his cakes, hips positioned over his pillow and he grinds.
the feeling for father geto was so archaic, been so long since he’s given up his life to God right after graduating university. all the carefree times that he’s experienced — drinking in dorms, going to parties, getting some nice quick fucks in between exams — were going to stop for good. but that doesn’t mean he stopped lusting.
lust. one of the seven deadly sins, a weak point for father geto’s journey as a pastor. it’s obvious now too that he hasn’t really left his older ways, bucking his hips into the fabric of his pillow. he thinks of you, your sweet little eyes and your cute outfit at home, he thinks of your face twisted into pleasure as he’s positioned between your legs.
father geto twitches, friction against the underside of his cock feeling so good after years and years of holding back — with a pretty face to think of, too. his hips ruts in short thrusts, desperate for that high and he chokes on a moan imagining your sweet voice begging to cum. and so does he, shooting such a large, hot load into his underwear that even his cassock is stained with his cum. but unlike you, he’s already thinking of his next round — if he’s doomed to die by lust, then might as well go all the way.
father geto spares a glance towards the door just to be safe before flipping over on his back, and pulls his robes above his lower half. the sight is dirty, underwear painted a darker colour and cum sticking to every part of the fabric. once he wraps a hand around his cock, geto is gone, pumping it so fast he might have gotten a burn along his length but it’s all rewarded by the second quick orgasm he reaches — spurting ribbons of cum all over his holy garments.
it’s why he didn’t have time to write a proper sermon for the morning mass. he was up all night, stroking himself — just, from the thought of you.
it was father geto’s turn to have uneven breaths as you asked if he was okay, hand on your shoulder shaking. but the visions of last night is overtaken quickly by his need to impress the other parishioners, and so he gives you a tense smile.
“enjoy the cake.” it sounded like an innuendo if you’ve ever heard one, but you mutter a soft thank you, before heading off back home with your family. that contact with your shoulder is all you can think of, giddy at the warmth of his hand and eyes.
“baby, could you open the door for me?” your mother calls out to you, hastily wiping her hands on her apron and abandoning the kitchen to tend to your crying baby brother.
“ok, mummy!” the doorbell’s been rung twice now, jogging a little to the door to prevent the person from waiting. you didn’t think to look through the peephole, a tight-knit (conservative) community made you trust anyone, opening the door to find father geto standing in front of you.
“o-oh. hi, father . .?”
he was dressed in his roman collar, a black shirt with a white strip around the neck and some black jeans. it wasn’t as casual as the first day, and it still held an ode to God even on a weekday.
“hi, (y/n).”
“ohhh! it’s father geto, come, come!” your mother bellows throughout the house, baby brother on her hip as she bounces him to get him to stop wailing. “are you hungry already?”
geto displays a meek smile, “a little, mrs (l/n), since you mentioned how big of a feast you were cooking.”
your mouth drops in recognition; was that why she was so preoccupied for the whole day? doing the maximum in the kitchen not just because it was for your father’s recent promotion at his job, but also for dinner with father geto.
“you’re having . . dinner with us.” it’s more of a statement to yourself than a question to the priest, but he still catches on and assists you by closing the door himself, and taking off his shoes. already, he looks part of the family, looking like a hard-working husband coming back from his job to you. instead, he’s answered the vocation of priesthood, and not matrimony.
“it looks like i am.” it’s such a sly comment, like he already knew the effect he had on everyone. this sucking up was just to get every church-goer to like him more, and it’s working.
geto is charming at the dinner table as he is at the parish, cracking jokes that make both your parents and you laugh, talking about his university life and telling a myriad of stories that he’s gone through.
“what did you major in in university, father?” it felt such a weird question, especially with an honorific attached to something that you were doing at the moment — it felt out of place that someone so close to your age was already pursuing a lifetime commitment of serving God.
“my studies focused mostly on philosophy and theology. i minored in linguistics.” there’s a chorus of ooh’s that echo throughout the table, cleaning up the last bit of food on his plate before he continued. “i’m currently going more in depth for latin, which is a stunning language, beyond those who say it’s dead and should stay dead.”
that only makes him hotter, and you cross your legs beside him, looking at him from the corner of your eye at you play with the last meatball on your plate. the sauce leaves a trail of red from the tomato, somehow mirroring the murder of your old self — or what you thought it was. it was more of a knife wound, a cowardly stab in the arm.
that dinner with father geto only deepened your sense of guilt.
it was the way the priest was quick to stand just as your mother does, offering to help with cleaning up the dinner table. even when she brushes him off, he insisted, answering for her when he only silently takes the plates to the back. all your mom does is shake her head with a smile, letting you help as well. your father just watches curiously, entertaining the baby with his canned alcohol.
“i’m embarrassed i can’t fight back against you well enough to stop ya from cleaning up at my own house,” your mother confesses, already having used her last breath to tell him to not help with the dishes as well. you scrub at a stain on geto’s plate over and over, a stubborn one at that until you finally are able to get it out. it still leaves a faint red glow, though.
“it’s nothing, really, mrs (l/n), i’m happy to help whenever.” father geto’s eyes rake over your figure as you clean alongside your mother, heel bouncing up and down; to non-existent music or in impatience he wasn’t sure.
she just takes the soapy plate from your hands with a laugh, “c’mon, it’s okay, my dear. go entertain father geto.”
it was the way his courtesy shined through when he doesn’t enter your room until he has gotten verbal confirmation from you, guiding him in with a uneasy hand as he looked around your quaint little space. it was filled with photos, some plants, tons of research papers and a messy table to match, but all he did was reassure you. you take note of his flowing hair and the laid back hairstyle he liked to don when it wasn’t for mass.
“how is university treating you?” you’re stuck on being completely honest and lying with every answer, but father geto has a face that makes it difficult to lie to.
“it’s . . alright, i guess,” you settle on your bed, crossing your legs and hoping he wouldn’t pick up any of your essays. thinking is manifesting, though, and his hands naturally go for the paper with the many red markings on the front page.
“Paradise Lost? by Milton?” ah. that paper. you shoot up from the sheets before he can read it, because frankly your thesis in that paper was weak and wasn’t well supported, but you still believed it deeply. you were just having a little bit of trouble straying from your reverence for God. you only manage to clutch the top of your paper, but geto is adamant on reading it, piqued by genuine curiosity.
“the retelling of Milton’s Paradise Lost humanises the experience of Satan’s (or Lucifer’s) fall from glory . .” he trails off, reading over your evidences and analysis. you feel like you’re being read like an open book, laid out bare for vultures to pick at and for God to enumerate your sins until you felt no shame.
with his head still tilted down, father geto has to look up through his lashes and bangs, seemingly making you cower more and more in your spot as the unsolicited advice for your essay dies down on his tongue. the size of his hands has you hypnotised, and he decides it’s against his own values to give feedback about a text he so childishly brushed off when he was in university, even if he had to read it to complete four years in the seminary. geto places a hand upon yours and the heat is dizzying; you can’t help but think if he was just normal person, instead, holding your hand like this.
it was the way he let you explain yourself a little better through your own words. it was a premature essay, anyway, made to test out your close reading and citation skills. but he found your interpretation of Milton’s poem to be much more insightful than he expected it to be — you think maybe, your understanding of the text grows the more you learn about your body, how you like to be pleasured; you feel like Lucifer.
“i . . don’t necessarily think you are born into evil. it’s multi-faceted and loaded, this question. God our Father would do anything but create evil willingly, it’s just unfortunate that the people that bring up their offspring contribute to the shaping of their identity and outcome.”
“then, how . .” your lips twist as you think of a way to word the question, “how would that justify evil existing? wouldn’t the fact that evil is developed somehow meant that God created evil in some shape or form, in the first place?”
father geto rushes to answer but—
“why did he have to create the serpent that tempted Eve in the first place? couldn’t he have just left them alone in Eden?”
“...there to dwell / In adamantine chains and penal fire / Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms.”
you frown, not expecting the other to answer but instead just wallowing in your thoughts. you never thought the talk with father geto would turn into some philosophy lesson, but the more you chatted with him on the bed, the more the conversation seemed to steer that way.
your own faith wavers in the night, a quietness settling over the two of you like a cloak of stars. the mass of each star weighs heavily with your questions up in the air until you faintly hear his answer.
“i don’t . . know, miss (y/n).”
“ah! no no— sorry to dump everything on you, father geto,” you scratch the back of your head, “it was just passing thoughts. i’ve never thought to think of this before.”
it was morbid, it was macabre. it was like looking over and seeing a skeleton in your place instead of flesh and skin and yet each question after question ignites something in him that no one has excited before. he can already feel lust influencing the other six, pumping through his veins at a life void of God, void of religion, a free place to think of the omnipotence of a higher being that no one was sure really existed.
“it’s okay . . it’s natural to ask. it’s natural to inquire. God,” he nods like he was in a trance; the word feels weird on his tongue, “God would want this.”
that night you did anything but sin, clutching the essay between your hands and digging your knees into the floor with elbows on your bed until they ached and you prayed. you wished blessings on your family, you wished blessings on the parishioners, you wished blessings on father geto and you wished eternal damnation on yourself.
there’s a heavy pull on your heart when you go to sleep a few minutes after and the dream you have of your body turning to soot and burning with each feet into flames makes you crave salvation all the more — like all a bad dream, it will be fine as long as you pray, and pray, and pray.
but the flesh desires what the heart denies: the more you ‘hang’ with father geto (by God, he was perfectly okay with that word when you let it slip to your mother. he merely throws up a peace sign in a ‘cool’ way and then immediately cringes, but it makes you laugh), the more you find yourself attracted to his morals, to his ideals, to the natural way in which he exists. he could speak for hours on end, voice sounding like birdsong and a chilling breeze all at the same time.
his voice did wonders in your head, as well, coaxing you into betraying your own code; and you betray it easily. that phantasmic voice leaving you to remove your top and pinching your nipples as soft little moans leave your mouth. the imaginary sway of his crucifix above your face while you harshly abuse your clit and dip a finger into you for the first time. the feeling is so foreign and weird that you shamelessly think of the slight lilt of his voice helping you: “it’ll feel better soon, (y/n). c’mon, finger your pussy for father geto.”
father geto had a natural talent for talking and preaching. that downturn of tone like hitting a dead-end when he holds a point above your head (“but”) and then resolves it into perfect cadence like chords ending a phrase when he proposes a solution (“God will take care of everything”). he does it so much you think he’s rather convincing himself more than he’s convincing you, though.
“perhaps this parable that Jesus uses tells us rather to look within ourselves, to look within the vineyard that is us. the owner have done everything: kept the roots tied so it would not be trampled, making sure they get all the sunlight and water it needs, yet . .” he pauses a little, looking at the almost full parish now that he’s won over the hearts of your town. his eyes flit down to you at the second pew, shooting you a quick smile.
“and yet he yields sour grapes. we pray, we act civil and diplomatic, we are giving, but are you truly doing it for the glory of God? is that maybe why we only get the sour grapes — not satisfied with the ‘thank you’ after doing a favour or silence from God after praying daily?”
geto looks over the last bits of the scribbled sermon, a little more coherent than last week, but still done with thoughts of you. there’s multiple smudges of his words that he has to squint and stutter a bit, caused by the frantic cleaning of his cum upon the paper.
“we all . . naturally expect things back, but to be Christian, to be a follower of Christ, we would have to abandon all thoughts of that.” father geto’s mind wanders to last night as his eyes look for you again. “we would need to be generous, to be kind without needing anything in return.”
father geto integrates into the church easily, shown in how his sermons capture the hearts of many. albeit, they never really take in the true meanings of the preachings he gives, but it’s enough for geto if they nod and mutter amen like fools in mass; whatever they do out of it is out of his hands.
but along the many preachings he does, there is one subject he fears approaching: lust, the one thing that threatens the downfall of his vocation and yet he cannot get enough of it. each walk and meeting with you only heightens his desire, makes his cock throb beneath his robes. each sunday he wishes he could split his soul in half — one as the confessor and one as the confessing — and repent in the confessional box.
“today’s gospel from Mark, chapter 6 talks about lust, briefly.” there’s a shake in his voice, eyes now scrambling over the congregation to find you in a much more revealing top contrasting with the out-of-place cardigan you have on. he’s sure it was mrs (l/n) that had made you put that on before you left the house; the house where he’s memorised the placement of your shoe rack and how your door creaks when it’s opened too quickly. geto is so fucked.
geto clears his throat before continuing, seeing you adjust your body for a moment, “King Herod is tempted by his flesh when he sees one of Herodias’ daughters dancing, so much so that she tempts him to commit murder. a clear beheading, just from giving into her body, and when she asks of him, he delivers like a dog. this calls us to truly think of the desires that we possess. they need not be sexual,” soft whispers emerge, a taboo subject, “they can also be related to money, to power.”
“lust for more things turns into greed when we act on that initial lust,” geto is sweating by now. he pulls lightly on his collar when you press your arms together in retaliation and he has to look away from the way your tits perk up so perfectly.
you had to know what you were doing, surely. partially — you were feeling cold, but you stifle a smile when you realise how geto’s eyes linger a little longer on you, or rather your chest, before he coughs and continues,
“when we are driven so terribly by the feeling that we abandon all morals just to please this person, thing on earth is when we tread into dangerous territory. no earthly possession must make you feel this way,”
the irony settles in his bones after he says it and his dick twitches at the thought of having you under the podium right now, sticking his fat cock down your throat while you struggle to keep the gagging noises to a minimum.
“no matter . .” a gulp, “how rewarding the aftermath must be.”
father geto knows you both are braving the edge of God’s merry kingdom. it is just a matter of who falls first.
“your place is in the kingdom of God, meant to fulfil eternal life with Jesus and the Lord which is what we all should be keeping in mind and working towards, ignoring all the distractions that will soon fade and die off.”
geto coughs again in the mic and breaths shakily, finally tearing his eyes away from you before he concludes the sermon and eases into the Offertory and Eucharist. he buries himself so deep in the procession in order to get you out of his mind, and it’s shown in the haste in which he carries the mass. it feels like he rushes so much that even the day outside follows too, because evening seems to arrive earlier than usual.
the sun sets outside, illuminating the altar. it taunts you like reminding you of the beauty of your faith; it deepens the need developing in your core.
“body of Christ.” you can faintly hear it being repeated over and over at the front, just a few steps away from your turn and you wish you weren’t standing behind your dad’s hulking figure so you could actually prepare yourself for father geto. you’re greeted with his cascading hair tied up into a bun and the cup containing Jesus’ body, gold and shining. you see your stretched reflection before your eyes snap back to the pastor in front and you will your hands not to hail routine.
instead, you stick out your tongue for the father to put the communion on and you take in the little panic of his hands and the choked sentence of body of Christ. his eyes drift down to your pink tongue, to the small twitch it does when he places the host on it and he cannot wait for you to get out of his sight, lest he be overtaken by the sin he particularly preached about just minutes ago.
“any test to study for tonight, darling?” your mother asks after dinner, meaning to ask after seeing you be so fidgety like you needed to be somewhere.
“uh . . no, not exactly, but i do have something i need to do.”
“oh! what is it, sweetie?” she doesn’t read your expressions, you mannerisms, so you were safe from that, but you willed your voice to not break. your body is on fire, you needed to quell your needs, now.
“just— i promised father geto i would meet him later for a confession, since he’s so busy, he could only propose a late timing,” no, you didn’t. either way, you give a reason, explain yourself before she can speculate, works every time.
“oh, okay . .” she trails off, seemingly unaffected, “just don’t get home too late, alright, darling?”
you nod even though she’s too focused on the dishes, pressing a hand to her back in thanks and she carries on, carefree, while you sprint to your room. lock the door, get your phone out.
“ . . ings turns into greed when we act on that initial lust . .” the words recorded just hours ago leave the phone speakers on a low volume, already lighting a flame in your pussy when your hand brushes over the microphone and he stops at the same time, “when we are terribly dri . .”
you sigh loudly when your hand starts to make its way down to your centre, rubbing slightly to the sound of his voice. your clit is just begging to be touched, begging for your inexperienced hands flicking your nub in every which way. impatient, your hands dip into your cunt and your jaw drops open at the intrusion of your fingers, just as your eyes widen and your imagination has never worked as well as it does now.
you can see geto’s amethyst eyes boring into yours, you can see his hips fucking into yours and yet it doesn’t give you the same kick as you think it would — you’re fucking yourself with your fingers even faster, circles on your clit increasing in speed and messiness and you smear your juices all around.
“father— father geto—” it was pathetic, the way you moaned for a man of God, but the feeling of your cunt clenching around what you wished was his dick was too good, the coil in your stomach still feeling rather uncomfortable but welcoming and you’re unravelling with a silent scream soon, back arching off the sheets.
“s . . suguru, f-fuck,” the swear word feels weird on your lips, as with his first name, but the trembling of your virgin body is so delicious that you just keep rubbing and rubbing, taking so long to come down from your high as your pants get heavier and heavier. and then his face starts to fade off, eyes turning into lilac air and you’re glancing towards the crumpled essay on your bed with guilt festering in your chest.
“ . . mptations of the flesh are childish, are temporary. they lead you to do foolish things that have no place in the kingdom of God. we may repent and put it past us but the memories that our tainted bodies possess, they remember the sinful things that you did.” the recording of father geto dies out as with his powerful conclusion, speaking so loudly into the mic that it screeches with feedback, you remember. you don’t even know where the guilt builds up from, in your torso and your heart, despite questioning the faith you were in for all your life.
if God did not want us to sin, why did he create temptations and ask us to pray for forgiveness?
you roll over and remove your fingers with a small whine, taking up your phone and opening up the contact with father geto hesitantly. it was meant to be a strictly professional exchange like the conversations he’d had with many other parishioners: updates on the church, changes in mass timings, but your chat was filled with questions from you and answers from him. you didn’t dare ask him anything out of the faith.
[9:37 pm, delivered]: uhm. father geto? are you there?
oh god, it’s you. the you who on the second walk around the town exchanged numbers with him because he found your thoughts so intriguing.
[9:39 pm, read]: Yes, Miss (Y/N). What is it?
you take a deep breath. better to ask for that confession, you couldn’t risk your mother asking about it tomorrow.
[9:40 pm, delivered]: is it alright to have
[9:41 pm, delivered]: can i come over to the church, for a bit
father geto straights up in the rectory, getting closer to the socket where his phone was charging and hovers over the screen. his hands are clammy when typing a response and he manages it in about three minutes.
[9:44 pm, read]: Of course, my dear. The doors of the church are open for the congregation at any time.
bidding goodbye to your mother, you stay on the lit path to the church and you’re bathing in anticipation, too excited to see father geto that you bump into a dark shadow. almost resembling a hard wall, hands emerge from its sides to clutch at your biceps.
“miss (y/n), what is it? what has gotten you up so late at night?” if he was still in university, he would’ve laughed at how he asked that question. hundreds of texts of u up? that mimic the nature of the question right now.
“i was hoping . .” you ignore the tingly feeling of the way in which his hands leave goosebumps along your biceps and then to your forearms. finally, they clutch your hands between his, meant to be like a warm hug but instead is like fire, licking at your fingers and wrist like you’re at the stake. “i was hoping that i could, request you for a confession?”
the priest across you swallows with a nod, swiftly putting a hand across your back to lead you to the booth. you both could’ve done it perfectly fine in the pews, sitting across each other. “the confessional is where we will feel the strongest compulsion of Christ. come,” he answers your question before you can ask it, “take your place on the kneeler behind the curtains.”
father geto showers in the same sea of anticipation when he makes sure you’re okay before heading over to his side of the confessional. he’s imagined this scene over and over — you on the pew kneeler, breath warming the velvet curtains — he cannot help the bulge that forms.
the first words he speak behind the curtain shock you, voice sounding so close yet so muffled and distant.
“come, now, (y/n), make the Sign of the Cross with me.”
Father, Son and Holy Spirit
upon your head, chest and shoulders you do it, taking a deep breath before you start. “bless me, father, for i have sinned. it has been . . about five years since my last confession.”
geto nods, the soft carry of your voice in the late night having an effect on the priest. the hold he has on the crucifix of the rosary is so tight it makes an indent on his skin, the only thing on mortal flesh to keep him from falling.
“What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield.”
your thighs rub together, hot breath sending chills down your clutched hands and down your arm as you ponder over the things you’ve done — “i’ve . . lied to my mother at times, to my friends when they ask me where i’m from. i have stolen money for my own needs, n-not— that high of an amount but um . . still a fair amount.”
“what did you need to buy, sweetheart?”
the name surprises you, but you simply ignore it. “i wanted new clothes — was all the rave at uni when the girls wore miniskirts and little tops. unfortunately it didn’t suit me.”
geto swears under his breath when the image of you in such skimpy clothing infiltrate his thoughts. his curiosity overtakes him; overwhelmed with emotion, he never had the chance to see what you were wearing before he pulls back the curtains and hopes your eyes are closed and they are: pulled tight with quivering eyebrows. there, like a sinning Christian is you in a thin camisole, cleavage showing beneath your arms. he peers lower, gasps softly to himself when you’re wearing a skirt.
“father? father, what’s wrong?” you think you hear the swift swoosh and the rings of the miniature curtain clatter.
“n—nothing is wrong, miss (y/n). are there any other sins you want to confess?”
you swallow, “i . . i’ve wished misfortune on my father.”
not the sin he was hoping for but he wasn’t surprised; his head moves in understanding. he had seen your father — merely a ghost in the house and hardly contributing to fostering the family. it goes against what Mary and Joseph stands for as the Holy Family, but father geto has seen a lot of absent fathers and incompetency to truly be taken aback anymore.
“i’ve also . . i’m not sure whether to tell you this, father geto.”
your breaths were all you could hear in the silence of the church, an eerie quietness settling as if the critters and animals of the earth strived to listen to your ultimate sin, too. Beelzebub, Asmodeus, possibly even Lucifer himself clawed themselves up from hell to eavesdrop.
“of course you can, my dear.” the wind through the wooden confessional box sounds like the hisses of the three demons, like they have had holy water sprayed on them from the mere sounding of his voice; but they look hopefully for a server of Christ to fall exactly like they did.
“it’s, related to my body, father. i,” gulping, you continue with a prompt from the other, “i’ve had this growing need, like, one has when they’re hungry. they have the need to fill their stomachs. or— or a sudden pain you have to massage yourself through, like a cramp in the arm of sorts.”
“well . . is it your torso or your arm?”
“it’s . .” you spare a glance towards your centre under your very, very short skirt, the familiar pulsing of your clit turning more and more prominent. “it’s related to my pussy, father.”
you hear a choke from the other side, and then you realise your choice of words.
“ah— m-my bad! i meant my . . vagina, father geto.”
“no— no u-uhm, the previous term was fine. could you describe what you did? how far did you go so i c-can . . give you the appropriate penance?”
behind the curtains, geto have already started palming his bulge, massaging the ache in his length that still continues to grow and harden. the way you describe is so terribly innocent and unknowing, a deepening urge to corrupt you running through his veins.
“i played with um— my breasts, first. i pulled up my top and felt around my nipples, but i got impatient and . .” geto hangs on to every word of yours, shifting to get his robes out of the way. it was just like the first night: his underwear stained with so much pre-cum it’s probably changed the colour of the garment. he peels it away and the lack of restraint leaves him sighing softly while you ramble on—
“i tried playing with that . . thing between my legs.” you recall the quick google search from that first night, “i played with my clit, father.”
geto stifles a groan into his hand just as he starts to stroke himself softly. “y . . yeah, and?”
“i tried to um . . fit my finger in. it was uncomfortable, at first,” you cannot ignore the pull of your core; your hand shimmies past the clasped hands and down to your skirt. you have no panties to swipe to the side: you came here without any. your finger rubs gently at the throbbing bundle of nerves, a soft whine leaving your lips before you remember you’re in the midst of a confession.
“but i . . i got it into my pussy soon enough. and then i put in another finger.” there was a more audible grunt from the other side, the confessional weirdly heating up immensely as you follow your confession: two fingers easily glide in from just how wet you were.
“when?” there’s a strain in father geto’s voice when he asks it, maybe because he was trying so hard to keep quiet. his jaw is locked as he pumps his cock slowly because his tip is leaking so much that even a simple movement would give him away.
“w-wha—?”
“w-when did you first start . . touching your pussy, (y/n)?” hearing a priest say such a lewd word makes you clench around your fingers.
“after you came to deliver t-that chocolate cake . . father geto.”
“f-fuck—” geto squeezes his eyes shut and it’s like he’s a university student again losing his virginity for the first time by the hands of some random chick pumping him. the implied confession has him stroking faster; it was after that trip he made to your house, it was after seeing you stand at the door like a good little girl, it was because of him, right? right?
you snap back the curtains and your mouth waters at the scene: father geto hunching over the little window that separates the two of you and his head hung low; his cassock gathers around his hips and his cock— good Lord, his cock was so big, clutched tightly between his left hand. his tip was weeping, an angry red as it continued to push out globs of pre.
“f-father!” geto doesn’t seem to care, giving you a drunk and nonchalant glance as he continues to stroke his shaft. he knows it’s wrong, doing this in the house of the Lord but it feels so fucking good. “y-you—”
you’re at a loss for words, pointing to his exposed bottom, but even though you’re speaking out against him, you can’t help but follow his hand as it moves up and down like a spell. his eyes are simply pleading, hips bucking up and you would think he was a parishioner instead. shaking in the presence of God, in the presence of you—
you stick your hand past the squeezy window, drawing his interest and before you know it you’re blindly bumping into his erection. there, he silently grabs your hand, guiding it to his shaft. he uncomfortably leans down to look at your face, eyebrows still furrowed but your tongue stuck out and his dick twitches in your hand.
“s-shit, baby . .” geto swears under his breath, and again when you pull on his dick to the window. uncomfortably his body lightly slams against the partition, a soft thud coming from the booth as his head collides with the wood, “(y/n) . .”
he can’t see you, but he can hear you. “may i, father geto?”
you don’t wait for his answer, gauging mainly from the heavy breaths coming from above you. they really do need to change the confessional, too, because you can clearly hear every word he mumbles out from the holes in the partition.
“shiiit—” when you kitten lick his tip, collection the pre-cum that continues to leave his tip, and it feels better than his Rite of Ordination and when he finally got to host his first mass. it’s better than that prophetic dream he has of God calling him to serve Him and the churches in the city with church-goers of boring faces and predictable stories.
here was a rural place, a place where he never expected such a pretty girl to practice the Christian faith, only to falter in the presence of a pastor. he’s gotten such a cute little slut to corrupt. you start to bob your head slowly, unsure of what to do apart from putting his cock on your mouth. your teeth grazes his skin a little and he hisses.
“no teeth. suck in your cheeks,” he cannot see you but he wishes he can, and he knows you listen to his advice when he feels only the smooth glide of your mouth and he wishes it was your pussy that you fingered.
“going deeper, darling,” geto grunts when he pushes his cock past your mouth and into your throat, the sweet gag you do making him dig his forehead deeper into the uneven wooden partition. he can hear your struggling sounds, the muffled moans with his cock down your cavern. but he cannot go any longer without seeing you and reluctantly he pushes you off, still holding your hand and you seem to catch his drift soon enough.
you’re as eager as him, bouncing off the kneeler and leaving your side of the booth, and you’re opening the door to his. the reality of the situation fully sinks in, geto standing there with his cock dripping with your saliva and your camisole pulled down under your tits.
“oh . . baby,” geto coaxes you into him, under a little spell of his when you trail in a light as a feather. you don’t resist his hands pushing you down to your knees, and just like earlier, you’re sticking your tongue out and the priest looks at you from under hooded lids.
“did you touch yourself to me, little girl?” it comes out stronger than intended but you seem to like it, even when your answers are cut off by him slapping his tip on your tongue. it’s so heavy, his cock, and thick too that you can help but suckle on it when you get the opportunity.
“ever since that day, father geto.” you look drunk, swirling your tongue around the tip and continuing to talk, “i . . i imagine you above me and sometimes i dangle my crucifix thinkin’ it’s yours.”
a small laugh escapes the priest. “did you now?” it’s reminiscent of the time where you praise his sermon. his laugh is cut off as you continue to suck him off, hands still confused. he helps you by bringing your hands to the places you can’t reach and you follow like second nature. “dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?”
“i promise i didn’t know anything before this . . father.” you look up at him through your lashes, big doe eyes proving every last bit of your innocence. aht, partially. you did watch a video of this chick blowing her boyfriend, cumming with your own fingers in your throat, wishing it was geto’s cock in your mouth instead.
but having a real cock in your mouth? it was divine, better than the body of Christ in melting on your tongue. your ministrations speed up, the obscene noises of you gurgling reverberating in the wooden box late at night. it would be even worse at the altar where it would echo everywhere.
“y—yeah, baby, that’s it, that’s it . .” his eyes are shut tight, intoxicated on the way your warm mouth feels. you whine into his shaft, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from how deep he was in you.
“mmf— mmph!” your moans sends vibrations up his body, interrupted when geto thrusts his hips into your mouth suddenly and your nose meets with his pubes, eyes rolling back from the muskiness of his body. it smells like incense and sweat, filling your senses as he keeps you right up to his hilt.
“ohh . . fuckfuck fuucck—!” the father pulls you off to let you breathe, pleasantly surprised when you start pumping him violently, tongue stuck out again. there’s a hint of light from the outside that highlights the pinkness of your tongue and he’s never wanted to cum this badly before.
“i’m cumming— baby, baby, i’m g’nna c-cum—” there’s a long, drawn out whine from father geto upon feeling the warmth of your hands stroking his cock so obediently, resting his tip on your tongue where you’d willingly drink his cum like wine. geto shoots his load into your mouth and is the loudest he’s ever been; he doesn’t care who hears him, he doesn’t care if he gets transferred out tomorrow, all he wants to think about is you on your knees and your nipples hardened from confessing to him. he’d like to bet that your pussy was drooling too, hips bucking into the soft skin of your hands.
some of his cum gets onto your face and on your lips, and geto almost cums again when you use his tip to smear his seed around your face, sucking lightly on his tip.
“dirty girl . .” he pulls on your biceps to bring you up, and your lips meet instantaneously like you were meant to be separated for eternity, doomed only to meet for one day a year. it’s messy and sloppy, drool drips from your sides of your mouths as your lips merge together.
“was that your first kiss, baby?” father geto can tell by how you don‘t know how to follow his lead, teeth clashing and breathing uneven.
“am i that obvious?” you frown, feeling self-conscious, but geto is quick to reassure you.
“father geto’s going to teach you everything you need to know, alright?” he brings you in with a finger to your chin, hovers over your lips like a tease.
he teaches you everything you want to know and more, like how the front of the church looks like and how cold the marble of the altar feels against your back as he eats you out and the sensations are all too much for you. he teaches you that using God’s name in vain is alright when it comes to moaning out how good he makes you feel and how your penance is whatever he makes it out to be he teaches you how you can take not one, not two, but three fingers up your pussy.
they’re so much thicker than your own, one hand pushing on your shaking thighs to keep them open while his three fingers move in and out of you. you’re leaking so much, your virgin cunt dripping like holy water down the white marble and onto the matching marble floor.
he teaches you his first name and he makes sure you say it.
“su—suguru . . god, r-right there—” he latches his mouth onto your clit, suckling and flicking his tongue impatiently because he just wants to see you cum. your legs stretch out to knock over a candelabra and the clatter of the metal against the ground is enough to wake up a whole village but you. don’t. care.
your hips grind onto his tongue, feeling the borderline painful stretch of his thick fingers in you but they reach all the right spots that you can’t find it in you to care.
“you taste so good—” geto spits onto your cunt and goes back to sucking on your clit, “pussy’s so fuckin’ sweet, holy fuck.” your noises come out of you non-stop as you bury your hands in his hair, finally knowing what you sound like in an unrestrictive space under the apse.
father geto teaches you how to take a cock up your cute, tight pussy, not bothering for a condom when basically all of your clothes have been discarded throughout the night. it’s almost midnight and your mother have fallen asleep on the couch, unaware her sweet, sweet daughter is losing her virginity in the place she was baptised, where she got her first communion.
the first push into your drenched cunt is painful, mushroom tip stretching you out slightly as you clutch tightly onto his forearm, brows knitted together at the girth of his cock.
“been wanting . . to fuck this pussy so bad, baby,” geto grunts it out, obsessed with how his length slowly disappears into you. he can feel each ridge of your gummy walls, hugging him so snugly that there’s several moans that leave his lips, “have you been— thinking ’bout this as much as i h-have?”
your jaw stretches beyond your limit when he eases himself inch by inch into you, thanking the hells below that your vision was finally coming true. above you there’s that same crucifix, sterling silver with amethyst stones embedded into the design, you remember, catching the light of the lone spotlight above the both of you. there’s a similar glint in father geto’s purple eyes.
“all the time, father—” you moan out, pulling him by his necklace to your lips that are more experienced now, each minute that passes is one more atom of your body turning black from the fire that licks at you from below the altar. you kiss the lips of your parish priest, whimpering slightly when his hips buck and you feel the stretch more clearly now.
“is this what Isaac felt when Abraham tried to bind him for a sacrifice on Moriah? helpless, confused, betrayed?”
geto lets out a hum, sucking hickeys into your neck and you think it’s a million times better than questioning a God that never showed himself, who never really had the intentions of the people in mind, who created sin to watch the downfall of men while he enjoys his time in his kingdom.
if this was what was meant by losing yourself to your devils, you would gladly shake hands with Lucifer and hope the warmth of the fire in hell would be a hug warmer than any hug you’ve received by people of the Christian faith.
“well, baby, do you feel helpless?” thrust “confused,” thrust “and betrayed?” thrust
he punctures each word with a snap of his hips and the pain gives way to pleasure and soon he’s already lost in the comfort of your pussy, hips starting a pace easily that emphasises just how wet you are. the echoes of your weeping cunt and the lewd slapping of his balls into your ass is like the bell ringing during mass, loud, resonating, it shakes your whole body.
“mmfuck . . helpless, m-maybe,” you whine out, legs wrapping around his back, “confused, n-not— suguruuu, yesyesyes!”
you try again, “n-not really. betrayed . .”
you feel like a sacrifice, but it was willing, of a confession that has led to this lewd showing of just how much the temptations of the flesh were insanely undeniable. there’s a murmur of i don’t think i can last much longer into your ear, cock driving into your tight pussy so harshly you’re hoping the small altar doesn’t move.
“b-betrayed, i think—” you squeal when father geto angles his hips up and it kisses your cervix just nicely, sending multiple chills down your body. your moans penetrate the holy air, hair splayed out like a painting and geto knows this is better than any Eucharist he’s ever tasted.
you clench around his fat cock, and he twitches, switching to short, pathetic thrusts into your pussy and he cries out your name as he cums deep in you, giving you all of his seed deep in your womb. your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of your first load, the warmth already hooking you in and you pull so hard on his hair he has no choice but to follow your hand.
you let him handle you deep into the night, taking you off the altar and pushing you up against it, entering you again and you brace yourself against the marble.
“s-sorry, sweetheart, you were saying?” he also wants to apologise that he hadn’t made you cum just yet, but your pussy’s so fucking heavenly he just has to be in you again.
“i-i feel a little betrayed,“ you sag over the altar, back arching into his hold. father geto is fixated on the movement of your ass fucking back onto him, “that a priest would break his m-marriage to God for me.”
“i thought they were supposed to be men of God,” you barely manage to form sentences. geto’s laugh at that startles you, as with the hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling. payback. you love it, however, a sweet Christian girl turned into a slut, and the last bits of the thread unravels when father geto reaches around to rub your clit.
“’m gonna— cum, suguru—” you whine out, body turning to mush with how hard he rams into your pussy. by now there’s a ring of white around the base of his cock, your juices slowly starting to coat it, too and Lucifer succeeds at sin yet again.
you cannot blame Eve when the serpent is as beautiful and cunning as geto suguru, nor can you blame her when his thick cock just reaches so deep into you, tip kissing your sweet spots and his hand impatiently drawing messy circles on your bundle of nerves.
“that just makes it the best though, right?” geto breathlessly says, “a holy man fucking a virgin raw in a holy place where prayers are said.” your legs are spreading further and further, his sweaty body engulfs yours, you’re dizzy, “you’re too tempting, sweet girl. tempting enough for me to want to abandon priesthood just so i can be buried in this pussy for fucking eternity.”
and you cum, head and heart going a hundred miles per hour as your body trembles in his hold. “there we go, little slut, thereee we go . .” you can feel the chill of the sterling silver into your back and his smile before he orgasms a second time into your waiting pussy, a second, heavy load let go into your pussy. it’s so warm and filling, and you already want more, more, more.
lust for more things turns into greed when we act on that initial lust.
“aw,” father geto coos at your fucked out face, flipping you around to give you a sloppy kiss and forcing himself to his knees just to watch his cum drip out of you, “does she want more?”
“always, father.” you answer with a drunken smile, putting a leg on his shoulder. again, your finger hooks around his crucifix, and you drag the priest down deeper into hell, somewhere father geto would‘ve always ended up.
somewhere where he would renounce his priesthood and worship something, and someone: you.
“Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n.”
a/n: LOOOONG MAN WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS. also i put the author’s note at the bottom this time bc i wanted to format of the fic to look the best without my goofy words ruining it! hope you guys liked it :) / tagging @crysugu @omgeto @kazushawty @suguruplsr @hydrovillette @slttygeto @hyomagiri @jabamin
part two ✶
#I WORKED SO HARD ON THIS PLSSSS SUPPORT#ITS 4AM AND I HAVE 9.30 CLASS TMR BYEEEEEE#xozombiee#asks#jujutsu kaisen geto#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk thirsts#jjk drabbles#jjk geto x reader#suguru geto x you#suguru geto x reader#geto x reader#geto smut#geto x you#getou suguru x reader#getou smut#getou x reader
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PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEEEEE
#xozombiee#:3#inactive bc i’ve been slutting over leon in my free time#PLEASE LEON#leon kennedy#PLEASEEEEE#JUST THE TIP#sorry#rocking back and forth like a psychopath#resident evil
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*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
— cici — 17, any pronouns, pansexual (taken), I loveee spicy food, African American
— Dom reader vlog
Haiiii guys o(>w<)o
My name is cici, you can call me that or cee. Most fics will be gender neutral reader, mostly with male genetalia. I’ll probably write mostly nsfw, but if asked I can write fluff or angst.
— probably going to be ignored but 17+ pls
Rules!!
Requests should abide by the following rules
What I will write
• Reader x character
• LGBTQ+ relationships
• interracial relationships
• anything that isn’t in what I won’t write
What I won’t write
• piss/shit kinks
• incest/stepcest
• no characters under 17
Fandoms: jjk, cod, aot, mha, etc
If you request a character I don’t know I’ll research them and try my best 🫡
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Get to know cici ^^
Interests: Animals, Clouds, Biology, Anime, Mario kart, little nightmares
Music: Mac Demarco, The cardigans, Deftones, Mommy long legs, Arctic monkeys, etc
Fav color: green
Fav food: spicy noodles
I’m kind of a freak y’all so go wild with the requests 🫡 thanks for taking time to read this baiiii ( ≧ ▽ ≦ )
Also shout out to my evil twin @xozombiee I recommend checking out their page if you’re a switch >.<
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“AFTER HOURS!” | W. BONNEY
✫| synopsis: bartending in the west gets boring at times, especially when the same old cowboys and outlaws come through those saloon doors everyday. you’d thought this was it..that’s the end of your story. then a certain outlaw, who’s name was getting around, walked through the doors.
warnings: porn with little plot, mentions of death, riding, little praise..it’s always gonna be there, female bodied reader, lowk psy rubbing??, hair pulling me thinks, idk what else
note: am i doing this instead of my homework?…yes. also do i know wtf women wore in the 1800s? err no. i tried tho! this is not proofread btw
In a dusty, sun-kissed town nestled amidst the rugged landscape of the west, there stood a saloon that echoed with tales of grit and resilience. behind the polished mahogany bar, you stood tall with a fiery spirit that matched the flickering glow of the oil lamps that illuminated the room.
you weren’t any ordinary bartender; you were a force to be reckoned with. with glimmering eyes that held mystery, and a rough demeanor that you used to command respect from every patron who dared to enter the establishment. your hands, calloused from years of hard work, moved with grace and precision as you served up drinks that could raise spirits or drown sorrows.
though the town was dominated by rough cowboys and outlaws, you had carved out your own place in their rugged hearts. they sought solace in your presence, and you became a confidante, offering a sympathetic ear to the broken souls who stumbled through the doors.
as the sun began its descent, casting an orange hue over the town, your saloon transformed into a sanctuary of camaraderie and laughter. the clinking of glasses and the lively banter of patrons mixed with the soulful melodies of a lone pianist, creating a symphony that echoed through the wooden walls.
but behind the facade of joviality, you carried your own secrets and dreams. you arrived in this town not long ago, escaping a past that haunted your every step. determined to leave a mark on the world, you had chosen the life of a bartending, finding comfort in the stories and journeys of those who crossed paths with you.
with swift movements back and forth behind your bar, you served drinks to the men celebrating..whatever it was this time. they sang along with others, their words jumbled and lazy, but undoubtedly filled with passion. you laughed as one of them sung to you, his eyes droopy and a crooked smile at his lips.
cleaning a few glasses, you watch as they all chat amongst themselves, if they weren’t still singing that is. a part of you yearned to have a life like theirs. to be free to do whatever you please, and not be told otherwise. you’d liked the idea of running from place to place and meeting new people. though, that’d never happen for you.
your back turns as you gather the clean glasses together, putting them neatly side by side. the sound of the saloon doors open, a sound you were used to by now. with your back still turned, you notice how most of the attendees in the saloon had gone quiet, watching as the person and their footsteps approached the bar.
turning back around, you come face to face with a taller man. he wore a shabby black hat, a maroon corduroy jacket that sat along his shoulders, and a gun at his waist. two actually, you noted as the jacket moved when he sat at the bar.
with a polite smile, you come closer, holding his gaze with yours. “evening, sir. what can i get you?”
he gives you a tight lipped smile, “whiskey, please.”
you hold his gaze for a second longer before glancing back at the people in the saloon. they stared with either fear, or curiosity in their faces. a scowl grows on your lips, muttering a small ‘drunkards’ under your breath.
the man watches as you place a clean glass onto the bar, and grab a bottle filled with brown liquid. his gaze moves to the drink as it pours into the cup, almost filling to the brim.
“you look familiar,” your voice chimes in again. “have i seen you in here before?”
he shakes his head, gaze falling back to yours. “nah.” he replies. “just passing through.”
with a sigh falling from your nose, you try to read his expression; he looked tired. you weren’t an idiot, it was obvious he was on the run. you’d seen his face on the posters, but didn’t know what his name was or what he was wanted for.
your fingernail taps against the glossy wood of the bar. trying to hide your sympathetic expression, you glance around the room. “if you need anything else, let me know, yeah?”
he nods, watching as you walk away to tend to the other customers. the way you moved was calm despite working in such an intense environment. his eyes trailed up and down your figure before taking a sip from his glass.
it seemed like hours passed as you worked. going back and forth behind the counter was time consuming as it passed so quickly. more and more people were leaving the bar as the early hours of the next day were coming.
as you went to grab some glasses from tables, you notice as the man before was still at the bar. his head was hung low, eyes trained on his glass. he’d had about three glasses of whiskey by now, only taking sips from time to time.
you’d noticed through the night how people tried to approach him. he’d usually brush them off, or making small talk that ended in peaceful silence. he wasn’t someone that was easily approachable to the blind eye. he held a strong, cold demeanor.
after gathering all the dirty glasses, and kicking the last passed out drunkard, you slide back behind the bar. you take the bucket of dirty glasses to the small sink, placing it inside before turning the water on. as it fills, you stare at it as your mind falls else where.
before it overflows, you turn the faucet off. you pour a little soap into the mix before drying your hands off to let the glasses soak. with echoing footsteps, you turn back to the bar and are face to face with the man of the night.
“want another, or is three enough?” you ask, a slight smile at your lips.
he glances up at you, studying your expression for a moment. his eyes drop back to the wooden bar, fingers tapping his halfway-empty-glass.
“this is fine.” he answers.
your elbows come to rest at the cool wood, chin in your palm as you watch him. you’d debated for most of the night to ask him what exactly he was running from. it would probably sound stupid considering how everyone and their second cousin knew about it. all except for you, as you didn’t look much into news and such.
he stares back at you, giving you the same energy within his gaze. his blue eyes analyze every bit of you, and you almost shudder at the sight of it.
“so, how long you been on the run now?” you ask, voice interrupting each of your own thoughts.
he brings the glass to his lips, downing the rest before replying. “months.” he mutters, not even phased by your abrupt question.
you hum in reply, “alone?”
“mhm.”
with his short and simple response, you laugh. it wasn’t out of humor, but rather more of irritation. you’d think someone as well known as him would talk more. most outlaws never shut up about flaunting their reputations. it’s different.
“you’re not a man of many words.” you say, not really caring about how he’d take your tone.
he shrugs, sucking his teeth a bit. “i’ve got nothing to say.”
you raise a brow, “tell me a story or something. i hear the same shit every night from my regulars. give me something new.” you request.
pouring a little more whiskey into his glass, you watch as his eyes dart to yours. “it’s on me.” you assure, giving him a smile.
the man sighs, tilting his head a little at the thought. what could he tell you? that he killed a man? that he fought a man in a saloon just like yours right before shooting him in the stomach out of defense? no..you’d probably already heard it anyways.
“what do you already know about me?” he questions, taking another sip.
your eyes squint at him, “i know you’re an outlaw on the run, obviously..and that’s about it. i don’t even know what the hell they call you.” you reply.
he chuckles, a small smile at his lips. “you’re probably one of the first.” he says. “just call me billy.”
with another hum, you nod slowly and give him your name. “billy..yeah, i think i did hear that once or twice.”
“well, either way, i don’t have many stories to tell.”
your eyes roll, a huff coming from your nose. “tell me why you’re an outlaw. i’ve heard like three different stories, and it can’t be all of them.”
billy smiles again, eyes falling from yours and to your lips for a split second. you watch him debate in his head before taking his hat off. he sets it on the empty stool next to him, running his fingers through his hair. he had brown shaggy hair that was sprawled all over his head.
“i killed a man. it was self defense.” he says, almost as if he was pleading his case.
you deadpan at him, “that’s all i get? not even a backstory?”
“there’s not much to it. he was making accusations at me..which weren’t entirely false, then he came at me. we fought over my gun, and i shot.” he elaborates, glancing at you with disinterest as if it was a meaningless story.
you fall quiet for a moment, brows raised while processing his words. that story was heard, but you didn’t know if it was the truth until now. the other stories were about robbing a bank and killing a bunch of people. hearing the actual story now..you couldn’t understand all the fuss.
a laugh falls from your lips, hand moving to pinch the bridge of your nose. “so, all this talk is because you killed a man that was attacking you?”
“yes, ma’am.”
your smile remains for a bit, eyes watching billy. “so, what now? you just gonna keep running?”
he shrugs once more, eyes kept on his glass. “probably.”
“have you at least slept?”
billy shakes his head. you chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating multiple things in your head. if you offered him a place to sleep in the loft above your saloon, he’d probably laugh in your face. but, a part of you didn’t want him out on the street sleeping defenseless.
as a other sigh falls from you, you move away from the bar and stand straight. “i’ve got an extra room where i stay. wanna take it for the night?”
his eyes find yours, expression vague, “are you sure? i mean, i don’t wanna—”
“it’s fine. i’d feel guilty if i opened up tomorrow and my regulars are telling me you got killed in your sleep.”
billy focuses on you for awhile before taking one last sip. he lightly places the glass on the counter before moving to grab some money from his pocket.
your hand finds his wrist as he places it on the counter. “keep it. just take your ass upstairs while i finish up.”
he grins a little, grabbing his hat and standing from the stool. billy slowly moves to the door at the back of the saloon, opening it and disappearing from sight. you roll up your sleeves as you move back to the sink, dipping your hands into the soapy water to clean the glasses.
after about ten minutes, you make way up to your loft in the building. your footsteps slightly echo as you move toward the light in the living room. when you reach the floor, you watch as billy sits on the couch with his head thrown back on the edge while his hat covered up his face.
slowly approaching in front of him, you lightly kick his shin. he snaps his head up, eyes wide as his hat falls to his lap. he lets out a small breath in relief, making you smile. you watch as he sits up on the couch.
“scared the shit out of me.” he mumbles, putting that ragged hat on again.
you move to sit next to him, bouncing lightly on the cushions. “must’ve been too tired to hear me coming up the steps.”
he leans into the couch once more, eyes trained on the ceiling. you watched his expression and how he studied the whiteness of the panels above.
“penny for your thoughts?” you whisper, watching his eyes shift over to you.
billy shakes his head, scoffing a little to himself. “it’s nothing. just thinking.”
“about?”
“everything.”
you let your gaze falter, moving to the floor. “everything that’s happened?” you ask.
he nods, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. billy wants nothing more than to go back and stop everything that’s happened. to change what got him to this point.
but if he did that, he would’ve never met you. you were one of the kindest people to him since the incident. the way you carried yourself, much like him, was with confidence. he respected you, and that aspect of your personality.
“i understand what it’s like..kind of.” you say, patting down the wrinkles in your outfit. “i was never wanted, but i’ve done things. things i wish i could take back.”
billy watches as you speak, the way your lips move and the expression you hold shifts with each emotion running through you. he almost doesn’t understand what you’re saying. the only thing keeping him to reality was the fact you sounded serious.
he adjusts himself on the furniture, “what have you done?” he asks, a part of him afraid to know the answer.
“i’ve killed.” you reply, the tone of your voice dropping lowly. “it was in defense, like you.”
billy watches the way you bounce your knee against the flooring of the loft. the dress you wear moves along with it, and your shoe lightly taps.
“when did it happen?” he asks as his pure curiosity gets the best of him.
you look up at him, smiling a little. “i was fourteen.”
billy looks at you, empathizing with your situation. though he wasn’t that young when it happened, he still felt some sort of connection with your experience.
“i don’t regret killing him honestly, but i regret hurting my family and his. they didn’t deserve to go through that. it wasn’t any of their faults.” you say as you breathe out slowly.
in an small moment, his hand is on yours. it’s a light touch, like he’s afraid to hurt you. billy moves his other hand to the space beneath your chin, and shifts your head to look at him in the eyes.
his voice is light, “you were defending yourself. it wasn’t your fault either.” billy whispers.
the words make your heart swell. after everything, hearing those words made it all feel better. almost all the guilt left your veins. he was right after all. it wasn’t your fault. what that man did..you just did what you had to.
as he holds your gaze, you slowly inch toward him. his blue irises bore into yours, watching as you shift them to his lips. they were slightly chapped and held a small frown on them.
billy leaned closer to you and your breaths mingled, like two lights finding each other in the darkness. he could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, as all of his senses were focused on you and you alone.
he closed the distance, and his lips met yours. billy felt himself melt into you like a magnet. everything muted itself, and his hands made way to your waist. he pulled you onto him, your knees caging around his thighs.
your hands found their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer. he tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin against his. the room seemed to dissolve around you as the only thing in existence was this. this perfect union.
time stood still, and you both wanted more, but neither wanting it to initiate it. then, with what restraint he had left, he pulled away, his lips still grazing yours.
he looks up at you, his eyes filled with worry. “im sorry, i didn’t mean—”
“shut up.”
pressing your lips back to his, he lets out a grunt in reply before melting into you once more. the warmth of you, your lips, your being that sat in his lap—he felt lightheaded. billy moved his hands to your waist again, slowly trailing them up your back.
you feel the buttons of your dress being undone. he stops right before taking the sleeves off, prying himself away from you. billy’s eyes look into yours for confirmation, and you give him a quick, impatient nod in reply.
with that, he pulls the dress off slowly. your lips trail from his own to his neck, putting the flesh between your teeth. he groaned, trying to focus on untying your corset.
as he removed it, he wasted no time to discard it to the floor, hands making way to take off the chemise you wore.
“all those months on the run got you impatient now, cowboy?” you mutter, laughing as he would struggle from time to time.
billy looks up at you, his gaze slightly hidden by his hat, “no, just none of the women i’ve been with wore this much underneath. i’m also not a cowboy, sweetheart.”
rolling your eyes, you grab at his wrists to stop him. he looks up at you, big eyes and all, causing the built up pressure in your lower stomach to worsen. “just leave it. i’m not wearing anything under, so don’t fuss.”
you watch him nod slowly as he started to stare, making no move to take off his clothes. “do i have to do it for you?” you whisper, hands undoing the brown suspenders on his shoulders.
he shakes his head, moving to unbutton his pants he wore. you watch the way he fumbles with them, sliding them midway down his thighs. billy’s hands eventually move back to your waist, bunching up your chemise to your hips.
billy’s eyes watch as your pretty pussy comes into view, sitting in his lap with such a prepossessing aura. he has to restrain himself from taking you right then.
his dick was hard and twitching, the length had an angry tip with its slit profusely leaking pre-cum. it looked painful and it was because of you. you. you wondered if you had power over him now for a brief second but you shake your head clear of these thoughts.
instead, you catch his lips again, the kiss slower this time. you raise yourself a bit so he can align himself to your entrance. the cool touch of his hand meets your cunt, sliding a finger through the folds and collecting the juices flowing from you.
he uses your slick and spreads it across your sensitive pussy. you took a deep breath of air into your lungs. this feeling was new, since no man you’d been with ever did this, but it wasn’t unwelcome.
a small groan falls from billy’s lips as he uses it to prep himself, guiding his hand along his cock and pumping it slowly. he was on the girthy side with veins on the underside of his cock.
you knew you would stretch around him, that your walls would be a perfect fit around his length. you were too impatient for any sort of foreplay; you wanted the stretch. you wanted him to make you dizzy with his cock splitting you apart.
billy grabs your hips with his unoccupied hand, bringing you closer to him. you let out a whimper as you began to sink onto him, eyes flicking to his. those blue ones he held were zeroed down to the place you both were connected now.
his hands are on either side of your hip, guiding you down on his length. it was after his cock was fully stuffed in you, that his self-control allowed him to almost whine at the feeling of you.
your hands are on his shoulders to support yourself. your fingers weakly fist his shirt as you begin to ride him, raising yourself a few inches before slamming down on his cock with a loud moan escaping your lips. he reached the deepest spot inside of you somehow. no one had ever done that. not like this.
his cockhead grazes your spongy spot as you fuck yourself on him. arousal and his pre-cum are smeared all over your thighs. this sight made billy’s breath hitch, something you didn't notice as you were too busy with your eyes closed and taking him. you looked completely dissoluted like this.
your hair was a mess now, your lips glossy and swollen, hands digging into his shoulder. billy felt himself become enraptured by you and this sight. it was something he could get used to..if he wasn’t an outlaw that is.
he pulls you closer to him. one of his hands is on your back, pressing you to him. his hips raise upwards to fuck you as he now lets out more vocal sounds of enjoyment.
watching him with a hazy gaze, you remove the hat from his head. you place it onto your own, grinning at how he stares up at you like you were the creator of all living beings and creatures on this earth.
moving one of your hands from his shoulder, you bring it to his hair and give some strands a tug. he groans, the vibrations of his chest transferring to his dick, which transferred to you.
each thrust of his was made for his selfishness in your velvet walls. the drag of his cock was perfect, his speed was unbelievable. it was like heaven itself, but without the pearly gates and clouds.
while stuck in your own brain, the feeling of teeth bring you back to reality. you let a shuddered sigh fall as billy digs into the collarbone that peaked from your square-necked chemise. he slowly kisses up your neck, bringing a hand to the back of your head.
“fuck..’s too good,” he mutters, trying to keep his voice even.
you laugh, making him groan a little. he looks up, watching as you bounce with one hand held on his hat to keep it on. “too good? were all your other girls shit?”
he lets out short breaths, his blue eyes studying the way you moved as if he was in a trance. billy would answer if he wasn’t on another planet right now. a planet where you were taking him so deliciously, almost to the point where he could pass out.
“fuck,” he says under his breath as your pussy clenches around him. “where do you want it?” his voice was strained from trying to keep his composure.
you pant, “inside.”
billy doesn’t waste a second before obliging and quickening his pace, making the hat on your head fall lopsided. you could feel the pressure in you tightening, almost about to burst like a pipe.
he moves his thumb to rub at your clit, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart on top of him with a loud cry. your orgasm hits you hard and billy can’t hold it in any longer. he fucks into you for another minute, eyes squeezed shut as he groans out your name.
billy groans when you flutter around him as you cum. he’s thrusting his hips up into you with his newfound force. it requires you to tighten your grip on his shoulders to stay put as he empties his load deep inside you, his sweet moans echoing in the living room.
your cunt milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you. the both of you pause, your hands resting on his chest as you catch your breath.
he slowly eases his cock out of you. the both of you were breathing heavily as he pulls you closer, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. you wrap you arms around his chest, listening to his heart beat.
“wanna share my bed?” you whisper.
tags: @m0rphys
#xozombiee#YESS I FINISHED#tom blyth#billy the kid 2022#billy the kid#save a horse ride a cowboy#coriolanus snow#RAHHHHHH#guys pls like#and subscribe#william h bonney
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“𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝒀!” | C. KAMO
✫| synopsis: emoboy!choso who works at spencer’s sees how nervous you are about trying out a new toy, so he offers to help!
warnings: sex toy usage, pet names as always :3 (sweetheart, honey, baby, etc), lowkey switch!reader, braindead!choso at the end LMFAOO, little hair pulling, no protection used..wrap it up. uhhh idk what else
notes: uhh guys pretend that batteries are included for vibes LMFAOO and..do i have a thing for car sex?
your feet ache as you walk through the mall. a friend was supposed to meet you half an hour ago to go shopping for dresses, only for her to text and say ‘sorry gotta cancel’.
the public chatter of others fill your head as you walk. since you were already here, you figured you’d look around. it’s been a while since you’ve shopped for yourself, and you were in desperate need of a new vibrator.
a colorful sign from the distance catches your attention. it read ‘spencer’s’ in orangey-yellow words. they sold sex toys right? the last time you checked they did. your eyes light up, figure walking a little faster toward the store.
when you enter, you’re met with the sight of shirts on display against the wall, a rack of hoodies and sweatshirts with ugly anime designs on them, and the section with shot glasses with corny messages written on them.
you pretend to be just shopping for a few minutes, not wanting to immediately go to the back of the store. as you pick through some of the clothes on a rack, a voice startled you from behind.
“need help finding anything, ma’am?” the voice asks lowly.
turning swiftly, you’re met with the sight of a taller man. the name on his tag read ‘choso’ with a small sticker next to it. he was young, had piercings along his ears and one on his lip, and a faint pink scar along the bridge of his nose that stretched out to his cheeks.
and he was kinda cute.
you find yourself staring for longer than needed. with a quick nod, you advert your gaze to something else.
“no, no. i’m fine. thank you though.” you reply nervously.
“well, if you need anything just let me know, yeah?” he replies, sounding uninterested.
you give him another nod before he walks off, tending to other customers. watching him out of the corner of your eye, you sigh a little.
this was the reason why you needed a new vibrator immediately. any attractive male that approached you was in danger. you’re surprised you didn’t jump him when he first walked over.
when you make sure no one’s watching, you quickly make your way to the back of the store. the small pink and purple bullets and vibrators come into view as you try to casually approach.
after hiding your body between the shelves by the wall, you look at all of your options. a bullet? nah, you’d already tried that. maybe go for something bigger?
your gaze catches on a cute, pink 8.5 inch vibrator with a ‘rabbit’ attached. before you can even stop yourself, you reach for it. the box made seem like the size was nothing. with a small shrug, you clutch the box next to your thigh. you had to find something else to buy with it.
yes, buying sex toys was normal to society, but it wasn’t normal for you.
after maybe ten minutes, you cautiously make way to the cashier. your eyes are glued to the floor as you put your things up on the counter. hopefully no one would see you walking out the store with a pink dildo in your bag.
“find everything alright?” that voice says again.
you look up with wide eyes, the pierced man with two space buns staring back at you. choso held no amusement in his eyes like you thought he would; he was nonchalant if anything. you give him a nod, looking to the snacks hanging from the counter.
your voice was weak, “a little..overwhelmed, but yeah.”
he flashes you a small smile, putting the toy and socks into a bag. “overwhelmed? this your first time shopping for—” he pauses, glancing down at the bag.
it was obvious he was just trying to make conversation, but you weren’t all that interested. still, you tried to be respectful.
“er..not really. i mean, i’ve had one before, but it’s-” you cut yourself off, cringing at how pathetic you sounded. “i’ve never tried that kind before.” you answer, going a little quiet at the end.
he raises a brow, “never had one with the rabbit?” he asks without really putting thought into his words.
a small nervous laugh falls from you, shaking your head in reply. with that, he leans forward a little, his eyes scanning your figure.
“i’ll show you how to use it if you want.”
your mouth goes dry, looking at him slightly appalled.a chill went up your spine from just his words. your shaky hands move to grab your wallet, brain attempting to find the words wanting to be freed from your throat.
you blink a few times, “you’ll show me? as in..”
choso looks at you, the uninterested expression still on his face. “my shift ends in twenty. i’m parked on the side by macy’s.” he says, watching a few people walk into the store.
now…you’d be an idiot to not meet him. but the contemplation was there. you could just go home, try the toy out yourself. that’d be the sane thing to do.
however, you hadn’t used that small little bullet on your bedside in months since buying a new one was always something you brushed off. so, you weren’t gonna miss this chance to get some dick.
you insert your card into the reader, feeling choso’s eyes on you. when the small device rings, you take it out, putting it back in your wallet.
he hands you the bag, your fingers brushing over his as you take it. it was like an electric current ran into your arm by his touch. you chew on the skin inside your cheek, feet staying planted in front of the counter despite your head telling you to move.
“i’ll see you in twenty.” you say, slowly walking away from the counter.
choso watches you in surprise. he partly only said that for a reaction, the sadist in him wanting to see your cute little eyes widen from his words.
when you exit the store, turning around the corner and leaving his sight with your cute skirt flowing, the crotch in his sweats begin to harden. it left little for an imagination choso wouldn’t need now, and every tomorrow, he hopes.
twenty minutes seem to pass quickly. you stand outside the macy’s entrance, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. the doors slide open, the sound catching your attention. you look up to see choso, space buns and all.
he nods toward the parking lot, motioning for you to follow. and you do, like a clueless puppy. choso leads you to a black colored toyota parked in the back of the lot.
his thumb presses one of the buttons on his keys, unlocking the car with a noise. he pulls you to the passengers side, opening the door for you. his hand finds your lower back as you climb inside. when he assures you’re in all the way, he closes the door.
you watch him from inside, his legs carrying him to the drivers side slower than you’d prefer. when he gets in, he settles into the seat with a soft groan. his hand finds the ignition, slotting the key in and turning it to start the car.
it rumbles lightly, the sound filling the silence between you two. you watch as he turns the wheel with one hand as the car starts to move.
minutes start to pass as you watch him, not even questioning where you were going. he could’ve been taking you somewhere to kill you..would you care? not really.
when he finally parks, you’re in a more secluded area of the mall parking lot. he was near the empty sears that had been closed for about five years, the blue sign still hanging high up.
choso glances over at you, or rather the bag in your lap that you clutched tightly onto.
“open it up.”
you blink at him for a second before complying, hands moving to unravel it from the bag. your delicate fingers try to tear the tape off of it, but struggle as it’s not letting up against the box.
he notices, lip twitching at the side as he watched. one of his hands come up to your wrist, taking the box in his other. you watch as he slowly pulls a blade from his pocket, cutting through the tape with ease.
choso notices your expression, the confusion written all over it as your eyes continue to look at the blade.
he chuckles, closing it and putting it back into his pants. “i was opening some new merch that came in the store today. forgot to give it back to yuki.”
you let a small ‘oh’ fall from your lips in understanding. choso takes the box back into his grasp, unraveling the toy from its packaging. the sight of something pink comes into view, and your eyes widen at how small it looks in his hand.
choso fidgets with it, “you said you’ve never tried one of these?”
“no.” you reply, keeping your eyes trained on the object in his hand. “i’ve only ever used one of the bullets.”
he sighs a little, looking up at you. “get in the back.”
you look at him, brows raised in surprise, “what?”
the pierced male leans forward, his face inches from your own. “get in the back.”
despite the music from the car’s stereo playing lowly in the background, your audible gulp overpowered it. you let out a shaky breath as you move to your knees, climbing into the backseat of the car.
he watches you, the skirt you wore lifting up as you shoved yourself in the back. choso followed soon after, moving to sit beside you in the closed space.
you watch him from the other side of the backseat with your shoulders pressed against the window. one of your legs propped itself onto the seat between you two, the other on the floorboard.
choso glances down at your underwear that was shying underneath the cloth on your legs. a small wet patch adorned the lacy piece you wore. his hand slowly moves to you ankle, his thumb moving back and forth against your skin.
“is it okay if i touch you?” he asks in a whisper.
a quick nod comes from you in response. your eager eyes watch him, expecting him to move closer to you.
his hand trails up further on your leg, “words, sweetheart.”
“please, choso.” you whine, enjoying that electric feeling from his skin on yours again.
choso gives you a sympathetic look. “please what? need you to be specific, honey.”
“touch me.”
he lets his hand move up your leg, making its way to your upper thigh. one side of your skirt pushes up, giving him a clearer view of your underwear. he smiles slightly at the cute purple lining that stuck to your lower stomach.
you feel his hand pull you down a little by your hip, back fully against the seat. his hand moves back to stay planted on your stomach, the fabric of your skirt now in his palm. his other hand picks the dildo back up that sat on the console, pressing onto the ‘on’ button.
the sound echos through the car, making the anxiety in your stomach build up. choso looks down at you, his hooded eyes boring into your soul.
he doesn’t give you a warning before he’s pressing the baby pink toy to your underwear. a small gasp evokes from you, back arching against the seat. choso slowly moves his hand on your stomach down to your hip, keeping that side in place.
everything felt heavenly. vibrations moved into your cunt, making your chest heave. your thighs want to shut together, but choso’s body keeps you from doing so.
“shh. you’re okay, baby.” he mutters, continuing to press the vibrator into the fabric.
you let out soft groans and gasps when the toy hits against your clit just right. when you feel that euphoric tightness in your lower stomach, your hand moves to clutch onto choso’s wrist.
“wait-” you whisper out, “want more.”
choso raises his brows, continuing his movement with the toy against you. your head falls back, hand clutching onto his wrist as the pressure builds up.
your jaw slightly hangs open but no words were escaping your lips, just soft cries. choso watched the scene intently as you squeezed your eyes shut and your body spasmed. you came hard, drenching those lace panties even more with your cum.
the sound of your heart beat in your ears lets you know you’re still alive. you listen as choso turns the toy off momentarily. “that was quick.” he comments as your heavy breaths fill the car.
you open your eyes to shoot a meaningless glare at him. he doesn’t say anything, only rubbing small circles on your hip.
“it was barely anything.” he says with a small shrug, “we should test it out with the panties off.”
with a small nod and ‘yes’ requested from him, his fingers start to dip underneath the band of the purple underwear. choso slides them off with ease after letting you lift your hips to get them closer to the ground.
you feel the somewhat cool air hit your pussy that was glistening. a sudden burst of vulnerability comes over you as you press your thighs together to hide from the man that sits in front of you.
his fingers move up your calves, up to the side of your thighs. he brushes them gently, keeping eye contact with you. “don’t need to hide from me, honey.”
at that, you slowly return to your state from before. he watches your pretty pussy come into view, his gaze going sinister at the sight. choso moves one of his hands to the edge of your core, hovering his palm just above your clit.
“so gorgeous.” he mutters, mostly to himself.
the sound of the toy starts up again. you’d figure he’d give a warning before putting it in, but he doesn’t. choso watches your eyes widen as he inserts all four inches of the dildo inside, the rabbit moving along your clit.
an unfamiliar hunger overtook his existence as he watched you squirm underneath him. choso slowly slotted the pink toy back and forth inside of you. you struggled to find something to hold as the pleasure took over your senses.
your hand is suddenly enwrapped by his, that electric current returning to your skin. he moves it to rest beside your head, his other hand maneuvering against you.
the sound of your pleasure almost makes choso’s head spin. he wants nothing more than to throw the plastic toy out of the window and shove his dick all the way into you. but he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself. you seemed like such a sweet girl, and he didn’t want to ruin that.
“mm..’m close, choso.” you rasp, looking into his eyes. “don’t wanna cum with that.”
choso looks at you dumbfounded, trying to process your words. he watches you reach for his hand, pulling the pink toy away from your pussy.
you lean up, pressing your forehead against his. “would you fuck me if i asked nicely?”
“don’t bother.”
not even a millisecond passes after his words before his lips are attaching to yours. choso discards the toy to the front seats, pulling you closer to him.
you feel the hardness under his sweats pressing into you. with a small wiggle of your hips, he lets out a sigh into your lips. his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you up from laying against the seat.
choso places you into his lap, hands curled around the back of your thighs. his head moves upward to keep the connection between your tongues. you bite down onto his bottom lip, and his hands squeeze your flesh.
“please.” you murmur against him, “don’t tease, choso.”
he pulls his mouth away from yours, looking into those gorgeous irises you held. “i like the way you say my name.” he whispers.
you feel his hands remove themselves from you, going to the waistband of his sweats. within a moment, they’re pulled to his thighs. choso looks up at you in anticipation.
“goin’ at your pace, baby.”
your hands fall onto his built chest as you sink all the way down on him, driving the entirety of him deep within you. his hands fly to your hips when it you flutter around him, but then grabs for your wrist on his chest, intertwining your fingers with his.
a moment passes before you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through you. your movements, your warm skin, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming for choso. his head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like you’re milking him, intent on making him fill you to the brim.
choso looks up at you, his brows furrowed with sweat building between them. his face is flushed, highlighting the scar on his nose. you almost cum right then and there from the sight of him looking so desperate.
when you speed up, he groans loudly. “you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”
moving closer to his ear, “that was the intent.” you whisper.
he unsuccessfully stifles a groan when your breath meets his ear. his hands are loosely closed around your thighs, not even wanting to press you tighter against him because his brain is practically melting.
you tug on the buns in his hair, forcing him to lock his gaze with yours. the pain in his scalp doesn’t phase him, in fact, he feels himself getting closer from the feeling. he watches your expression change with each thrust, holding him in your hand like a puppet.
“so fuckin’ pretty, choso.” you gasp, kissing up his neck.
he inhales sharply from your praise, “fuck—”
you looked godly--his savior, and your pussy was one squeeze away from sending him to heaven. you were giving him this gift of riding him and god he was so grateful for it--for you.
“feels ‘s good,” he whimpers, looking at you through half lidded eyes.
when you feel him twitch inside of you, your legs find what’s left of the energy you have left to quicken your pace even more. "come on baby, come on," you whisper to him.
he isn't used to this. he isn't used to being guided to his orgasm first, but he his brain is dissociating. he can't think of anything else--he's lost control over his brain and he feels himself tip over the edge of an orgasm.
choso groans when you flutter around him as you cum. he’s thrusting his hips up into you with a newfound force. it requires you to tighten your grip on his shoulders to stay put as he empties his load deep inside you, his sweet moans intercepted with apologies.
hours could’ve gone by, and you wouldn’t realize it. your body lays atop of him, hands lazily gripping onto his shoulders. choso doesn't pull out his cock, keeping it buried inside of you.
his hands are locked together, circled around your waist. his breathing has evened out along with yours, and the only thing filling the silence is the radio that’s barely above zero on the stereo.
“so..did you like the toy?”
#xozombiee#choso kamo#choso x reader#jjk choso#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso smut#choso my beloved#choso x female reader#choso my beautiful babygirl#jjk#jjk x reader#CHOSO PLEASEE LET ME RIDE JT#i’m so normal about him guys
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somebody better take my phone before i write something diabolical in my drafts.
edit: it’s posted now guys
#xozombiee#billy the kid#tom blyth#i love cowboys#me and him in my bed when#TOM BLYTH ONE CHANCE PLEASEEEEEEEE#billy the kid 2022#this is a cry for help
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re6 leon is so pretty when you cry by ldr coded
#xozombiee#leon kennedy#:3#LEONNNN#PLEASE LEON#i need his cock#HELO ME WHY IS RHAT A TAG#kinda real tho#resident evil#lana del rey
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“𝐍𝐎 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐄!” | S. GETO
✫ | synopsis: going to a halloween party with your friend, only to get high and fucked in a car after eating canes with a hot ass guy dressed as a priest.
notes: need priest geto so bad omfg like i would literally drop to my knees for five minutes w him! this is also heavy based off of seat taker by @/ coconutdays <3
warnings: dub-con? (they’re just a little high but i’m putting the tag just in case), praise :3 (sweet girl, sweetheart, baby, etc), handjob, riding, p in v without protection, geto eats coleslaw, gojo cause he needs his own warning.
partying was never your thing. you hated the smell of booze, the sight of two people grinding against each other while intoxicated made you wanna vomit, and every guy would stare at you like a piece of meat for sale, even the ones in relationships.
not even the infamous satoru gojo’s parties would lull you into going. just the idea of it was so..eugh. gojo was one of the many guys in a frat. him and his other friends were in it, and were mostly known for always filming themselves trying to drink an entire beer keg in one standing.
so it was safe to say you’d never go out to one. at least until now.
you stand outside a house that blared muffled music out to the streets. the purple cheerleading outfit (the one from jennifer’s body) you wore started to feel tight against your skin. any self confidence you once had started to fade when you took a single glance at the house.
the sound of your friends voice pulled you from your trance, the high pitched sound coming from behind you.
“girl, you’re gonna be fine!” she reassures, though the gleam of mischief in her eye wasn’t that reassuring. “i even got you a bodyguard in case i end up leaving with my man.”
you raise a brow, trying to think of who this bodyguard was. it had to be someone who wouldn’t be drinking. then it clicked. “oh, god. you’re forcing ‘nami to babysit me?” you frown.
she giggles, the feathers on her fembot costume swaying as she did. “he said he’s cool with it! he only comes cause haibara forces him to anyways.” she grins.
an internal groan filled your head as you squeezed your eyes shut. maybe you could pretend to be sick. that could work. nanami would probably fall for it and take you home.
before you could even begin to start pretending to feel ill, your friend grabs your hand. she drags you toward the house with a frightening pace. you wanted to protest, but figure there was no point in it anymore.
when you enter the house, all you see are crowds of people standing. some danced along to the music, which you appreciated that it was actually good.
as your friend drags you through the house, you end up in the kitchen. it’s filled with people either taking shots, smoking, or talking. your friend pours two cups of pink whitney before adding a bit of sprite into it. she hands it to you with a smile. “lighten up!” she says.
drinking your nerves wouldn’t be so bad, but someone would have to take the two of you home. nanami would already be handling haibara since they were roommates, so there was really no one else.
you take light sips out of your cup. the sprite wasn’t mixed well with the vodka, making you cringe on the inside. the sound of the music transitioning makes your friends eyes light up.
“I love this song!” she shouts before she quickly grabs your hand and starts to pull you to where everyone was dancing.
in the process of being dragged by her tiny figure on light speed mode, you accidentally bump into someone. your drink spills out of your cup onto them. with widening eyes, your gaze switches to an infamous white haired male.
of course you would be the one to spill your drink on satoru gojo.
you quickly apologize as your friend rushes back to the kitchen to grab a hand towel. when she comes back, she pats it at his bare skin that held suspenders along his shoulders. “i’m so sorry! it was my fault.” she apologizes once more.
a firefighter costume..honestly, what did you expect?
gojo takes in your friends appearance, smirking slightly to himself. “it’s alright, sweetheart. don’t sweat it.” he reassures.
you roll your eyes at his words. before you can make a snarky comment about his bad flirting, the sound of a low voice comes from behind gojo.
“having fun, satoru?” he asks with a raised brow.
the person wore a priest outfit, hair half up into a bun while the rest hung around his shoulders. you almost choke on your almost-empty drink at the sight.
gojo grins at his friend, “yeah. you?”
the man sighs, glancing at your friend. “if i had known all you needed was someone to spill a drink on you so you’d stop pouting, i would’ve done it twenty minutes ago.”
the white haired male laughs before bending down to your friends ear. he whispers something that causes her to giggle and nod her head in reply. she discards the small towel onto the kitchen island before attempting to turn to you.
“go get nanami! i’ll find you guys when i’m done!” she shouts as she gets dragged away toward the crowd of people dancing.
you watch them with disdain held in your gaze. it only took five minutes before she was whisked away. you’re not surprised though, any girl would’ve fell for that spell. even you.
“so, you’re friends with kento?”
swallowing the last drop of vodka, you glance at the priest-dressed man in front of you. “yeah. well, i have english with him. we became close friends when we got assigned a project together.” you answer.
he hums, nodding in amusement. “oh. you like him?” he asks out of curiosity.
you furrow your brows, shaking your head. “no, no. i mean, ‘nami’s handsome, but i’m not actively trying to pursue him or anything.” you reassure, feeling nervous underneath this guys gaze.
a laugh falls from his lips in reply to you. the song transitions, and he glances at you.
“wanna dance?”
your eyes widen a bit, brows furrowing in confusion. “me? now?”
he approaches slowly, taking one of the shots left unattended on the counter. “yes, you. the one dressed as a cheerleader. very cliche, by the way.” he teases.
scoffing, you place your cup onto the counter. “coming from the guy dressed as a priest. i’m dressed as jennifer check, by the way.” you retort before walking towards the crowd.
he follows you like a lost puppy, squeezing through the same gaps as you did. when you eventually find a spot in the crowd, you turn to see him there too.
feeling the amount of alcohol start to kick in, you let the music take over your senses. you sing along to the lyrics, some of it barely audible to hear since other people were doing the same.
“SHE DONT WANNA STRIP NO MORE, DONT WANNA HIT THAT POLE!” you shout, giggling a little when your words fumble.
the man in front of you grins, watching you bounce like you’re at a rave. more people begin to join the crowd causing you to stumble into some people behind you.
a hand latches onto you when someone takes a step back and almost makes you fall forward. your eyes meet the priest-dressed man, giving him an embarrassed look.
“you alright?” he asks, helping you stand fully.
you nod in reply, “yeah, thanks.”
when the songs over, there’s a pause within the music as it transitions. you glance at the dark-haired man.
“what’d you say your name was?”
he meets your gaze, “i didn’t. it’s suguru geto.” he answers.
you let out a small ‘oh’ when his name lingers in your head. it sounded familiar. “i’m-”
“i already know.” he interjects with a grin.
a worried look paints your face as you stare at him. geto almost laughs, but bites it back. “i only know because i have english with you, too.”
english? when was he..oh. he was in your english class.
“i’m sorry— i didn’t realize that was you.” you apologize, feeling guilty despite only ever seeing the back of his head. and it was usually in a bun.
he waves it off, “it’s fine.”
when a new song starts to play, your feet ache as you try to move. scrunching your nose up in pain, you glance at geto. “wanna get out of..this?” you ask, gesturing to the people around you.
he smiles and nods before taking your hand. geto leads you out of the crowd, dragging you to a less packed area. as you walked, slowly, you realize how big the frat house was.
geto leads you outside to the pool area where some people sat around. they all were either smoking, or just hanging out and enjoying the cool autumn air.
the dark-haired man sits you down onto the pool chairs. he sits across from you on the one beside it, grabbing your ankles. he takes off the uncomfortable boots (that you purchased for costume accuracy) slowly. setting them on the ground beside you, he lets your feet sit on his knees.
“better?” he asks.
you nod at him, “yeah. thanks.”
he gives you a smile in response. “we can switch if you want. i’ll let you wear mine for the rest of the night.” he offers.
one of your brows raise as you glance at his feet sitting on the ground. “i dunno if your feet will fit in my boots.”
geto laughs, “satoru and i are the same size, so i’ll take one of his.”
a small ‘oh’ falls from your lips, not thinking of that. glancing back at geto, your head tilts onto your shoulder.
“how’d you even become friends with him anyway?” you ask out of curiosity. “you don’t seem like the type to hang around him.”
“i don’t seem like the type?” geto questions with an amused expression. “well, if that’s the case, you haven’t really met me then, sweetheart.”
you let out an exaggerated sound of disgust, making geto laugh. “me and satoru have been friends since primary school. been stuck together ever since.”
“ohh..so you’re like besties?” you ask, giving him a grin. “how cute.”
geto rolls his eyes, matching your grin. “more like a brother. his family is kinda..rough, so i hope to bring some comfort for him.”
you nod in understanding. having someone like geto seemed nice. he seemed like the type you could be free around, which is what gojo probably needed from his silver spoon family. you’d hoped to do the same for your friends as geto did his.
the silence between the two of you feels calm. it’s not awkward, like you’d expected.
that was until a certain blue eyed male comes outside and interrupts.
“suguru!” he coos, coming over to the pool chairs with a blunt in one hand, lighter in the other.
your eyes widen a bit when you realize he was alone. where the hell was your friend who he just walked away with thirty minutes ago?
“where the hell is she, gojo?” you ask with a worried look.
the white haired man glances at you as he thinks. the nonchalance on his face then turns to a grin when he realizes, a small ‘oh’ falling from him.
“she’s with shoko.” he replies carelessly.
you sigh in relief, your body relaxing against the chair. your eyes dart over to gojo once more as his lighter flicks against his thumb.
when the flame ignites, he pulls the small torch to the blunt between his lips. he inhales it slowly before exhaling, watching the smoke fall from his mouth.
he passes it to geto, who glances at you as he brings it close to his lips. “you smoke?”
you’d smoked before, but it wasn’t something you did all the time. you always preferred edibles over inhaling the smoke since you’d embarrass yourself with a fit of coughs.
shaking your head, you politely decline. “i do, just don’t really like it. thanks though.”
you watch gojo pout a little at your refusal. “aw, come on, babe. just one hit.”
geto hits him softly, “she said no, satoru. don’t force her.”
a sudden feeling of anxiety began to pick at your nerves. you extend your hand to geto, gesturing to the blunt. he looks at you with confusion.
“i’ll do it just once.” you assure him.
he hesitantly passes it to you, watching as you bring it your lips. you inhale it slowly, that familiar burn scratching at your throat. pulling it away from your lips, you slowly exhale and manage to not choke yourself to death.
“atta girl.” gojo grins, coming over to take the blunt from your hand.
as he does so, you swallow harshly to hopefully relieve the pressure in your throat. geto spares you a glance. he nudges your foot to get you to look at him. “you good?”
you nod in reply, “mhm. s’just been awhile.”
geto nods, looking over at gojo who was smoking it like a pro. the white haired male passes it to him once more, the blunt moving into his long fingers. geto leans over to you before inhaling it. he pulls it back from his lips after a long hit, blowing the smoke into your face.
“that better?”
you nod slowly, eyes taking a glance at his lips. “still prefer edibles..but yeah, that isn’t bad.” you reply.
he grins, pulling away. geto turns his head to gojo, raising his brows as he takes another, smaller hit. “you still got them gummies from the other night?”
gojo nods, “yeah, they’re in my room.”
“go get ‘em for her.”
the other male raises a brow before getting up and doing as asked, walking off back toward the house. you watch him move quickly, as if ready to get back to the two of you.
turning your attention back to geto, you give him a small smile. “didn’t take you for a smoker either.”
“oh? how so?”
you shrug, looking over at the pool as the lights lit up underneath the surface. the blue hue it held was bright. “just a hunch i was having. too bad i was wrong though.”
he matches your small smile, looking down at his lap. “well, you’re not that far off. i don’t smoke like satoru. any time he gets pissed off, he’s gotta have a smoke. he swears it’s not an issue though..”
a small giggle falls from you as the sliding door to the pool area opens again. gojo appears and approaches the two of you with a small strawberry flavored gummy bag in hand. he waves it before passing it to you.
“anything else, my liege?” he asks geto, making the darker haired man chuckle.
gojo plops down beside you as you open the bag. the small gummies have a strong scent that immediately hits your nose. gojo beats you, putting his hand into the bag as it sits in your lap.
he pulls one out, popping it into his mouth. you mirror his actions, placing your own on your tongue. the sweetness takes over the ache in your throat, causing your tastebuds to go crazy. you go to grab another before gojo stops you, giving you a look.
“not too much, sweetheart. i can tell you’re a lightweight.” he says, sounding more harsh than he probably intended.
geto glances at him, “she’s fine, satoru. she can’t get high off one.”
you raise a brow at the white haired male, keeping eye contact with him as you dig back through the bag and pull another out. you open your mouth, bringing the sweet treat to your tongue. gojo watches it sit between your teeth before you close your mouth and begin to chew it.
as the two start to talk, you tune their voices out and look around in a daydream. the edibles start to kick in and you feel a little dizzy, which was normal for you when you got high.
a loud crash from inside the house interrupts them, and gojo gets up with a huff. “if these assholes broke my shit, i swear to god—” he mutters as he walks away.
geto glances back at him with a chuckle, the blunt between his lips (though it’s now smaller). he turns to you, watching your dilated pupils stare into his.
“you feelin’ it?”
you manage to nod in reply, making him flash his cat-like grin. “figured. satoru always gets the strong stuff.” he laughs.
an ache begins to run though you as he speaks. your back feels uncomfortable in the slouched position you’re in, and your legs are going numb from the odd position on top of getos thighs. you take your phone out of the pocket in your skirt, looking at the time.
“shit. it’s late.” you mutter, mostly to yourself.
geto glances at you, taking one last hit before pushing the bud into the metal of the pool chair to extinguish the fire. “you need a ride home?” he offers.
shaking your head, you shrug. “probably. i dunno where my friend is or when she plans on leaving.” you sigh.
he gently moves your feet from his lap, standing up with a small stretch. “i’ll take ya’ home. let me go grab a pair of satoru’s shoes and we can go, yeah?” he says, meeting your gaze.
you nod in reply, watching him enter the house. it only takes a few minutes before he returns, his black shoes held in his hands while he wore a white pair on his feet. when he approaches, he bends back down to your level, slipping his shoes onto your smaller feet.
he ties them as tight as he can so they won’t slip off as you walk. once he’s done, he stands, grabbing your boots in the process.
geto extends a hand to you, “let’s go.”
you take it, lifting yourself up from the chair. he leads you back into the house, pushing past some people to get to the front door.
the front yard doesn’t have as many cars in front of it as it did when you first got here. geto walks with you along the grass as he heads toward a black car with tinted windows.
he opens the passenger door for you, extending it so you have room to enter. you laugh as he slightly bows when you climb into the car. a moment passes before he reaches the drivers side, getting in himself.
when the car starts, you take in the inside of it. he kept it clean. there wasn’t any trash (except for a gum wrapper in the cup holder), and it smelt nice. you hum as his heated seats begin to warm your skin.
a soft tap at your thigh breaks you from your daze. you glance at geto with a half-lidded gaze as he holds his phone.
“what’s your address, babe?” he says quietly, not threatening to go an octave above what his voice was at.
you take his phone, slowly typing in the address before handing it back to him. he nods to himself, setting the phone onto the phone mount at his dashboard.
the car begins to move, and your eyes watch as the houses leaves your line of vision. getos music plays in the car at a low volume. you hum along to it, watching the street lights as you pass them.
“it’s only one. wanna go get something to eat?”
you turn your head to glance at geto. eating sounded good. really good actually. but you didn’t bring your wallet.
“i don’t have any money on me.” you reply.
geto chuckles, “i didn’t ask if you had money, i asked if you wanted food.” he says.
a feeling of warmth spread within you at his words. was food the way to your heart? ..possibly. you smile at him, eyes scanning his figure.
“fine, but don’t go to taco bell. they gave me food poisoning last week.”
he turns his head, giving you an amused expression. “noted. i was thinking more of canes anyway. that good with you?”
you nod in reply, leaning forward to turn the music up. childish gambinos voice plays out the speakers, your head moving to the beat.
turning to geto, you lip-sync to the song. he smiles at you, watching the way you lean closer to him from across the console.
“you always act like this when you’re high?”
giving him a small pout, you roll your eyes. “i’m barely high.”
“so you just act like this?” he shoots back.
“no.”
you enter town, the car driving by multiple buildings and restaurants. geto takes a left into the canes parking lot, driving toward the ordering speakers. a few buzzes from your phone catch your attention. you look at your notifications to see your friend spamming you with texts.
favorite slut<3 : WHERE ARE YOU?????
favorite slut<3: oh nvm satoru said you went with geto
favorite slut<3: OKK I SEE U🫣
you roll your eyes at her texts. fingers typing back quickly, you reply to ease her previous worries.
you: i’m good
you: also ‘satoru’??? u guys fuck lmfao?
she starts to text back after you hit send. she was probably going to go on a whole rant about gojo. a hand brushes your thigh again, causing you to glance up once more.
“what you want, hun?” geto asks, one hand on the steering wheel as he glances at you.
your brain goes quiet for a moment before you realize what he was asking. “uh- the three finger combo is good. get me some water with it.”
“you sure? i’ll get anything you want.”
if you had no self respect, you’d be dripping right now.
“mhm.” you hum. “that’s all i want.”
he moves back toward the window, saying the order to the worker. your phone buzzes again, but you don’t feel like answering at the moment.
geto pulls the car toward the window, sliding his card to the worker. they were surprisingly quick with your food, giving geto the bag as soon as he pulled up.
he hands it to you, thanking the worker before driving off. his eyes search for an empty parking space before slotting the car into one. he parks the car, turning to you as you sort through the bag.
you open one of the boxes, seeing a serving of coleslaw in the corner. with a disgusted expression, you turn to geto. “oh, you’re a freak. coleslaw? absolutely not.”
geto rolls his eyes, taking the box from you. “you gotta dip the bread into it. that’s what makes it taste good.” he defends.
“nuh uh.”
“fuck you mean ‘nuh uh’? i’m right.” he replies, matching your look of disdain.
you try to hold up a front, but fail as you giggle. “whatever.”
“no, seriously. just try it.”
he hands you a piece of his bread, coleslaw topping it. your face scrunches up in disgust as you take it from him. taking it into your mouth, you chew it quickly before swallowing it.
geto looks at you with anticipation. you glance at him with a defeated gaze.
“fine..it’s okay.” you admit, making him smile. “i’m still not eating that shit though.”
he laughs, “i won’t force you to.”
after sharing another giggle, the two of you eat in silence momentarily. you chew a piece of chicken, glancing at geto. the cross necklace he wore lowly hung from his neck. it shined in the streetlight next to the parking lot.
“what made you wanna go as a priest?” you ask.
he takes a sip of his drink as he thinks. “satoru and i dared each other to wear embarrassing costumes.”
you hum, stifling a laugh. “so the firefighter was your idea?”
“mhm. it was the cringiest in the store. well, besides the sexy pirate one.”
laughing, you take your own sip from your drink. “oh? that would’ve been a sight to see.”
he nods in agreement, watching you smile. you hold his gaze for a moment before looking back at the plate of food in your lap.
“i think the priest is a good look on you. definitely not something you would ever actually be though.” you say, a ghost of a smile on your lips.
geto raises a brow at you, “you think it’s a good look?” he asks.
you roll your eyes playfully. “do i need to repeat myself?”
he discards his plate into the plastic bag, shrugging a little. “the cheerleader is a good look on you, too.” he replies.
a wave of embarrassment rises to your chest. you glance at him, fidgeting with your cup. “you think?”
leaning back against his seat, he turns his head to you. his eyes look you up and down. “yeah. it’s cute.”
you slowly move closer to him, elbows resting on the console. your eyes drop to his lips, a small smirk on your own. “is that why you asked me to dance? thought i was cute?”
he copies your actions, leaning down toward you. your noses almost brushed as he looked down with his hazy, red eyes. “what’d you think, sweetheart?” he answers.
with a face as hot as the sun, you lean forward to connect your lips to his. they feel smooth against yours, the taste of his soda coming onto your taste buds.
one of his hands moves to your jaw, pressing you closer to him. he threads the other through your hair, feeling the texture between his fingertips. you let out a soft whimper when his tongue prods into you mouth for an opening.
you pull away for some air, inhaling quickly before moving to his neck. his flesh was burning on your warm lips. geto lets out a groan in response to you tugging onto the black dress shirt he wore to get better access to his neck.
“baby— hold on, yeah?” he says breathlessly.
geto moves away, hands falling to your hips. he pulls you into his lap, your legs dragging across the car as you sat above him. one of his hands move to push the seat back a bit to give you more room.
you waste no time to attach your lips to his neck again. he lets out another noise when you nip the skin between his shoulder and neck. you drop your hands from his waist, moving toward his belt.
pulling away, you look up at him. “can i?” you whisper.
he nods quickly, huffing like he’d just ran a mile. you undo his belt, listening to it jingle as you push it to the side. your hands dip into the waistband of his underwear, feeling the hardness of his cock underneath it.
geto squeezes your hips when you run your fingers over it, grazing over the tip. you warm him up a bit before pulling it out from the boxers he wore. he was big, bigger than you would’ve expected.
as you start to pump it gradually, geto hisses quietly. his precum oozes from the tip, soaking your palm. soft moans from geto fill the car, making the uneasy feeling in your stomach transfer to the cotton panties you wore.
he shook in your grasp, his fist bundling up the cloth of your costume. geto let’s out shuddered breaths and shaky moans when you speed up. his hips move upward into your palm, his eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure took over.
you can feel him get close as he twitches in your hand. he looks up at you when you release him, his eyes blown out with lust. you move closer to him, pressing a kiss to his jaw.
his fingers move underneath the skirt of your costume. he palms the front of your underwear, feeling the slick you held. “oh, sweet girl. i haven’t even done anything to you.” he coos.
the cool air hits your cunt when he steadily pulls them off after getting permission. he kneads the flesh of your thighs, looking up at you in admiration.
“you sure you wanna do this? we don’t have to, y’know?” he mutters.
a smile forms at your lips, feeling your heart swell a little. you give him a nod before leaning down and pressing your lips with his.
geto moves your hips closer to his, running two of his fingers across your slit. a shuddered moan falls from you and into his lips. he uses the slick to prep himself, rubbing it along his length.
he pulls away from you, moving his lips to your ear. “i’m goin’ in, ‘kay?”
you give him another nod as he aligns his tip with your entrance. when he pushes in a little, you let out a small sigh. inch by inch, he fully slides into your pussy as his hands caged around your hips.
the dark-haired man lets you adjust to his size for a moment, brushing the hair out of your face while you looked down at him with furrowed brows.
“it’s okay, baby. take your time.” he whispers, caressing your cheek.
god, does he even realize what he’s doing?
once you give him the ‘ok’ to keep going, you lift your hips slowly before easing back onto him. you watch him firsthand as his mouth drops open and his eyes rolling back as a broken moan pushed past his lips.
it was filthy and euphoric, and it made you lift your hips again and slam back down just to hear him moan. geto’s body trembled, his grip on your hips tightening as he surrendered to the pleasure taking over his body.
“suguru..” you whisper, mouth dropping as he manages to brush the sweet spot inside you without even trying.
one of his hands come back to your face, gripping your jaw to pull you down to him. he shoves your lips into his, a groan falling from him.
"so fucking perfect." geto manages to say between kisses, and you reward him with a squeeze of your pussy, making him lose the rhythm of his thrusts.
the intensity of the moment heightened as his grip tightened on your skin, his kiss silencing you completely. with each desperate thrust of his hips, he struggled to maintain the little bit of control he had.
he moves his thumb to rub at your clit, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart on top of him with a loud cry. your orgasm hits you hard and geto can’t hold it in any longer. he fucks into you for another minute, eyes squeezed shut as he groans out your name.
your pussy milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you. the both of you pause, your hands resting on his chest as you catch your breath.
geto rubs smooth circles into your hips, huffing out as you did too. “you alright, baby?” he asks, looking up at you.
you nod, catching your breath before leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “v’never came that quick before.” you murmur.
he smiles a little, running a hand into your hair. “wanna see if i can do it again?”
#xozombiee#i love men#this is a cry for help#jjk suguru#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#getou suguru smut#geto suguru#geto x reader#getou suguru x reader#i love geto#men need to dress as priests more often#jujustsu kaisen x reader#i’m so normal#guys believe me i’m okay in the head#mental illness
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SNAP - G. Rhee.
synopsis: night time with glenn in the prison
note: ik a lot of u are craving more glenn. gotta feed my followers🫡
warnings: finger fucking, asphyxiation lowkey…, this mf lowk a sub here, cowgirl, wtf that shit called when u put ur fingers in smb mouth dot dot dot (I NEED TO FEED MYSELF TOO OK)
the prison was dark. nighttime fell a few hours before, prompting everyone to get ready for bed. time had passed since then, so the prison was quiet.
you lay in bed with glenn, his hand was wrapped around your waist as you two slept. except you couldn’t really sleep..i mean, who can when there’s reanimated corpses outside your window?
your body was desperately wanting to re-situate itself after laying on one side for an hour and a half. you pressed your body against glenn’s, rupturing a small groan from him.
“babe? ..are you awake?” you asked him in a hushed voice.
“i am now.” he replied, which was more of a retort than anything.
you continued pressing against him, feeling the length underneath his shorts grow. the warmth of face presses into your neck, making you grin to yourself.
“i’m sorry, baby.” you whisper apologetically, though it wasn’t genuine. your hips moved once more, grinding yourself into him, and he groaned with his nose leaning into your hair.
you felt his hands move from your hips down to your lower stomach. his fingertips slowly pulled your nightgown up, revealing your underwear that rested underneath. your breath hitched in your throat as you felt him give a teasing tug at them.
“can i?” he murmured into your ear. he didn’t even have to elaborate before an eager ‘yes’ fell from your lips. glenn chuckled lowly, his fingers slipping inside the cotton.
two of his digits pressed into you, making you bite down on to your lip to suppress the noises that ruptured. as his hand was busy, the unoccupied one made its way to your throat, grasping it and squeezing it.
“shh..they’ll hear you.”
small, quiet noises rang through your shared cell. you let your eyes roll back a little as his thumb circled your clit, causing you to shutter against him.
the movement of his wrist picked up, soft squelching coming from below you. you could feel his breathing get heavier as his nose nudged your ear.
glenn groaned quietly, “so fucking good to me,”
the knot in your stomach built up soon enough from the soft praise in your ear. his fingers were long, longer than yours. he kept them clean, cut, and pretty for you.
as you continue riding his fingers, he keeps his hand against your throat. his lips graze the underside of your jaw, whispering lowly
“you g’na cum, baby? go ahead.” he cooed.
snap.
you came around his fingers so quickly. he sighed to himself as he felt your cunt flutter around his digits.
his hands removed themselves and found your waist once more, massaging circles into your skin. he watched your breathing even out as you attempted to come back to reality.
after so, you slowly sat up from your side, putting your weight to your knees as you positioned yourself on top of him.
“can i take care of you now, baby?” you asked him, rubbing his shoulders soothingly.
he nodded in reply, but you narrowed your eyes. you moved yourself directly on top of him, making him groan as his cock pulsed. “use your words, honey.”
he squeezed his eyes shut like he was in pain, but really, he was in enjoying it. he whispered a quiet ‘fuck’ before opening them and looking at you again.
“i want you to fuck me.” he pleaded, flashing his puppy dog eyes.
you were taken back by the bluntness of his words, but smiled sweetly. “now was that so hard?” you teased.
you inched toward him, pressing your glossy lips against his neck. as you marked him, your hand traveled down against his pajama shorts, feeling the outline of his length.
glenn let out a breathy moan into the air, but soon pressed his hand over his mouth after quickly realizing that others could hear him. you chuckled at him, tracing your fingers back up to reach the waistband of his pants. you pulled them up, dipping your hand into his underwear.
your fingertips circled the tip of his dick, making him shudder underneath you. a quiet ‘fuck’ and ‘good god’ were thrown around as you started pumping him slowly.
it only took him a minute or two before he was begging you to stop, wanting to finish inside you. you kiss below his ear then to his lips before you comply, slowly removing your underwear.
glenn’s eyes watch you. they’re wide and his pupils are blown from almost spewing a daycare into your palm. you climb back to your previous position, hips aligning with his before you slowly sink down.
taking a moment to adjust to him, you cradle his cheek into your palm, rubbing his flushed face with your thumb. you innocently clench around him for a reaction, watching him squeeze his eyes shut.
a small smile graces your lips, “so cute.”
he huffs at you, rolling his eyes. a small giggle falls from you, and he hisses at the vibrations that sent to his cock.
once you’re well adjusted, you slowly pull your hips upward before sinking back down. this process continues, making glenn’s fists bundle up your silk nightgown to your waist.
you leaned down, arms caging his head. “fuck..”
you look up at glenn, watching his eyes shine in the moonlight. “open your mouth for me, baby.” you whisper to him.
he complies, opening his mouth for you. with a smirk, you take two of your fingers and place them onto his tongue. “suck,”
glenn obeys, wrapping his lips around your pretty fingers. you feel his mouth play around your digits slowly. you speed up, feeling that high coming in once again.
“cum, baby,” you demand through your soft voice. it was all he needed to let go of the uncomfortable feeling within him.
the both of you release, your body trembling on top of his. the fingers in glenns mouth muffle the cry from him. a few beats go by before you remove yourself from him, laying back beside him where you once were.
“you satisfied now?”
a/n: this was so embarrassing and lazily written what the flip
k gonna disappear for 5 months again :3
(also dgaf if theres spelling mistakes)
#this is a cry for help#xozombiee#glenn rhee#glenn rhee x reader#glenn twd#i love men#twd x reader#glenn rhee smut#glenn x reader#twd smut
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nerd | p. parker.
warnings: praise, peter parker’s abs, fingering, marking, kissing, nerd kink😶…, dirty talk?, boring nerd facts
synopsis: peter finds out you’re secretly turned on by his intelligence and uses it against you.
study nights like this weren’t unusual. peter sitting by your side while your sat with your legs crossed next to him. text books were scattered across your bed since he was helping you study for a chemistry quiz that was this friday.
you shut the book with a huff, turning to the boy next to you. “i’m bored.”
peter looks up from his book, “you wanna take a break?” he asks.
you nod in reply, jumping off the bed. you stretch, your shirt rising up in the process which makes the spider boys face turn pink. you smiled, “you hungry? i can make some food real quick.”
“maybe later. we should take a break for a few then get back to studying.” he suggested.
you let out an exasperated whine, falling back into your rolling chair. “whyyyy? i hate studying. it’s so boring.” you argued.
“you said it yourself. you cant fail this test.” he replied. you frowned. “well not everyone is as smart as you, pete.”
“i’m not that smart.”
“yes you are! you have so many awards! and you’re like…awesome at everything!” you told him, making him smile.
“you’re actually so smart…it’s kinda hot.” you grumbled like an old man. peters ears perked at your words.
“hot?”
“yes, it’s hot!” you yelled, spinning the chair away from him.
peter took a moment to think. you were obviously embarrassed about it. so was there was more to the story? he smirked to himself as he thought of an idea.
he stood up from his spot, getting close to your ear, “did you know there’s enough dna in the average persons body to stretch to the sun to pluto and back—seventeen times.” peter whispered.
“seventeen?” you mumbled, turning your head to his.
“yeah. and, the earth has a mass of five point nine seven times ten to the power of twenty four kilograms.” he smiled.
you stared at him, eyes shifting to his lips every two seconds before you finally pulled the collar of his t-shirt. your lips connected. peters hands grabbed your hips, steadying himself above you. you stood from the chair, walking to the bed. lips disconnecting for a breath of air. your hands were pushing the text books onto the floor.
your knees met the mattress, your weight sinking it in as you sat. you wiggled your hips as you crawled across the bed. peter stared at you like you were the millennium falcon lego set you had gotten him for christmas. he was absolutely so in love.
he followed behind you, dragging your hips back to him. you squirmed in surprise, watching peter grin at you. his fingers played with the hem of your shorts and you were practically begging for him to take them off.
“is this okay?” he asked, tugging them to your thighs.
you nodded desperately, making him smile to himself. after taking your shorts off, all to be seen were the cute cotton flower panties you wore underneath them. a small damp patch was covering the middle, making all the blood in peter shoot down his body.
opened mouth kisses were placed along down your torso, “did you know a cloud can weigh about a million pounds.” he said between each kiss.
you felt insane for being turned on by this.
“peter..”you sighed, wrapping a hand in his brown locs.
“baby?” he replied. his eyes stared up at you, watching as you looked as if you were about to faint.
“need you…now.” you whispered. you just want him to stop teasing you and start pleasing you. feeling his breath near your core was driving you insane.
hands trace against the inside of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine. peter pushes the fabric that covered your cunt to the side, putting two fingers inside of you and curling them as he does, making you moan.
“peter.” you barely say below your breath, holding onto his bicep.
“shhh..baby. let me take care of you.” he said against the skin of your collarbone. you whispered in reply.
his kisses were so light against your neck. if you hadn’t known it was him, you would’ve thought a butterfly had landed onto your throat, fluttering peacefully. his trail of kisses moved down to your chest, then eventually to your stomach again.
“pretty girl..my pretty girl.” he muttered.
you cupped your mouth with your hand, muffling the cries of your voice. you couldn’t let your roommate hear, or your other colleagues down in the other dorms.
peter noticed the hand covering your mouth. he took the hand occupying your insides, removing it and pulling yours away.
“don’t get shy on me now.” he pouted.
your legs closed from the loss of touch, hoping for some friction as you rubbed them. peter brought his lips close to your ear, pushing your hair away from your face.
“i know you think about this all the time. it’s so obvious from the way you stare.” he says.
your eyes squeeze shut, “peter, please..”
“please what?”
you get quite at the next part, but thanks to peters enhanced senses he heard what you said clearly.
“always.” he replied. you watched as he ripped his own shirt off, his abs coming into sight. god he was fine. he pulled back your underwear, watching as it tickled down your thighs.
peter entered slowly, bottoming out. for several moments, the bedroom was silent, apart from your panting. your eyes couldn't leave his figure.
you reached a hand up to push several strands of hair out his eyes. he pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back in, making you throw your head back.
fuck you were gorgeous with your head thrown back against the pillow, back arched. it wasn't the first time peter had seen such a sight. hell, he’d even took pictures and videos of it for himself.
"gonna fill you up, pretty." you nodded, the corners of your vision beginning to blur from the intense pleasure.
you could feel the spark of your insides begin to light, almost as if it was about to go off. you were so close. “peter.”
“yeah?”
“close.”
peter grabbed your hips, adjusting them to his. he picked his pace up, making your brain fuzzy. the circles he was tracing on your clit added to the pleasure he was submerging you in. your fists grabbed the sheets as if they were going to save you from this animal of a man.
You were incoherent as you came, only whines mixed with slurred chants of his name leaving your mouth. peter followed quickly behind you; a whimper leaving his lips.
peter relaxed against you, his head falling against your chest. you laughed softly as his curls tickled your skin. “fuck.” you breathed.
“yeah, fuck.” he grinned.
the two of you laughed, holding each other tightly. the room was soon filled with silence once more. it was comfortable. as always.
“yknow..the world record for the most female orgasms is one hundred and thirty four in one hour. i bet we can beat that.” peter winked.
the room was silent.
a loud cackle was heard from below him, which is where you were laying.
“why the fuck do you know that?”
@xozombiee2022
#peter parker smut#peter parker x reader#peter parker#peter parker is the loml#i love peter parker#peter parker is a little shit#this is a cry for help#i love men#smut mention#mcu x y/n#xozombiee
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me while writing emo!choso who works at spencer’s
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OMG ARE YOU AN ENHYPEN STAN???
this is so random but YES I AM💪 i also stan other bgs like txt, skz, ateez, p1harmony, etc.
#xozombiee#hashtag jake biased#enhypen#kpop#guys i need kpop moots#skz#txt#ateez#p1harmony#on my hands and knees begging for more kpop friends
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the billy fic is coming yall trust😭
#xozombiee#billy the kid 2022#billy the kid#ITS SO HARD TO WRITE IN LIKE A WESTERN TIME PERIOD#tom blyth#GET READY FOR SOME RIDING AND IM NOT TALKING ABOUT HORSE RIDING!!
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guys if i admitted something batshit crazy rq would u still love me :3
#xozombiee#the hunger games#coriolanus snow#i’m okay in the head#promise#TOM BLYTH PLEASE SAVE ME#WHITE BOY PLEASE SAVE ME WHITE BOY#i’m sooooo normal about young snow guys#the ballad of songbirds and snakes
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I don’t know how else to say this, but i live laugh love you for writing for billy the kid
omg tysm🙁 i just needed to get it out my system bc i recently watched the entirety of season 1 and i was like …i need to write ab this.
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i think about this everyday.
#xozombiee#i love geto#getou suguru x reader#look at his fruity ass#geto pls swallow me like that pls pls pls
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