gemsonfire - Tumblr blog

gemsonfire · 5 days ago

Text

— prey

synopsis: 1 Corinthians 6:18 states that one must flee from sexual immortality, but it's hard to flee from something that is forever chasing you.

pairing: priest!sevika x semi-religious!reader

warnings: religion as part of the main plot, fun mix of Catholic branches, age gap, light angst at the end, bottom!reader, top!sevika, virgin!reader for religious reasons, perv!sevika, massive corruption kink, mean!sev, pet names (little lamb, lamb, pretty, baby), hand/arm kink, humiliation kink, praise kink, reader masturbation mentioned, pillow humping mentioned, cunnilingus, fingering, fucking in a church, degradation, sub headspace if you squint, spanking, pussy slaps, crying, eating it from the back + through panties

wc: 7.7k

a/n: please read the disclaimer that has already been published! all the thanks in the world to my girl @sevsgiirl ❤ they helped me so so much per usual and I'm their biggest fan.l

Oh forgive me if I love being bad for you.

Your mama always said that being good would get you to far, far places. She said that every man and every job and every opportunity admired a good woman. And so, you were. You were the perfect, thriving, glowing definition of good. Stunning grades, sports, church on Sunday. You talked to God like he was your best friend, and for a time, he was. She was right, too. People did admire you for your perfection. But it wasn’t long before the cracks started shining a bit brighter, and you realized that maybe this wasn’t the life for you.

“You be safe, okay?” Your mom rubbed her hands down your arms, pulling you in for a tight hug. “Oh, I don’t want to let you go!” She squeezed harder, holding you there like a lifeline. “Now listen, I already called some friends in town and of course, prayed over your new apartment. God is watching, he’s here with you-”

“Mom,” you interjected. “I know. I’m an adult, I’m ready for this. I’ll be just fine.” Her eyes welled with tears, pulling you back into a hug. Your dad walked over, wiping his hands on his pants and smiling. He was finished loading the car, which meant that you had a steady escape from your mother’s spiraling.

“Well, time to send you off, kiddo.” He opened his arms and you attached from your velcro mom, shifting your attention to your father. He didn’t squeeze you like it would keep you here, he held you and let you go, knowing that it was time. “Bye sweetheart, we love you.” You waved to the both of them as you got in the car, wasting no time before clicking your seatbelt in and driving off. This was it.

Your parents' relationship with religion wasn’t one that you saw very frequently. None of your other friends had parents that obsessed over your entire life, always dragging you back to God. Not even your friends from church. They used God to tell you what to say, how to dress, how to act. Everything was done in the eyes of God, and at times, it was crushing.

So, when your Mother texted you the name of a priest she knew in your new town, you swiped away the notification and let it sit in your inbox for weeks. You were convinced that, if you ignored it, you wouldn’t live a life that they controlled any longer. Even after you turned eighteen, went to the local college, made new friends. They still had a full hold on everything you did. Now, five hours away, you were free!

Your first day in town you wore a crop top - one that your mother took from you and hid in her closet years ago. She made you pray for days and ask God for forgiveness for something so sinful, so immodest. You felt terrible afterwards, and only wore things that covered everything but your wrists and ankles, absolutely convinced that you betrayed God with the shirt. But it didn’t, and it wasn’t, and when you wore it then, it fit you well, made you feel pretty.

God, did you feel so free.

Your mother checked in on your daily, but you only replied to a handful of them. When you told them that you had plans to move to the gayest part of the country, they all but freaked out, sure that you would come home transgender, or worse, gay. What on earth were they to do with a gay daughter? It wasn’t God’s commandment to be gay, and the thought of you as a gay had your mother’s mind spinning. You were sure you saw her life flash before her eyes when you told them.

You wouldn’t pretend that the town was out of your comfort zone. There were so many people compared to your small town, you couldn’t even understand how so many people lived in the same place. That being said, it felt, to you, like everyone was a model. There were so many faces that you had never seen before, so many identities and styles.

It wasn’t until the end of your first month that you ran into your first problem.

You found a coffee shop that you enjoyed, and began frequenting it. But, when they hired a new, tall, buff, female barista, you found yourself there more often than not. You were undeniably drawn to her, found yourself thinking of her when you shouldn’t be and striking up conversation with her like some kind of lovestruck fool.

Then, of course, the thoughts began creeping in. Terrible thoughts, about her voice and her arms and her fingers. All while you did terrible things to yourself - with God watching. You were screwed. The woman lived in your mind all the time, everywhere you went and everything you did. Every night before you went to bed, thoughts driven by lust guided you. You knew then that you would have to take your mother up on her priest offer.

The church was large, on the outskirts of the city. It had beautiful panels and stained glass windows that light poured through gorgeously. You followed the line of people, joining them in waiting to confess. Even if you had never been to this church or knew these people, they were kind to you. You had to tell someone, and if a priest that your mother heard was good had to be it, then she was it.

The booth was cramped when you stepped in and took your seat. You face forward, as one does, and placed your hands in your lap, waiting. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three months since my last confession,” you started, “I’ve never been to this church, and I’m new in town. I… I’ve been struggling with some lustful thoughts.. about women,” the words felt like dirt coming out of your mouth.

“Go on,” the priest spoke, and the voice was warm and thick and held you there like honey.

“Well, I haven’t exactly acted on them, but I have, um, touched myself thinking about… a woman.” The priest hummed and sat in silence for a moment, calculating. You were red with embarrassment, confessing something that went so against everything you had learned growing up.

“Was it one woman specifically, or have you had these tempting thoughts about several women?” The priest asked. You sat with yourself, pondering whether or not you had ever had those thoughts before. Well, maybe you had.

“There was a girl when I was younger. My thoughts weren’t driven by lust but I thought of what life would be like with her. This woman is so.. different. I’ve never done anything with anyone, I’ve never had such filthy thoughts about anyone before, especially not a woman.” You whispered the last word, as if it would change anything.

“Everyone struggles with temptation at some point in their lives. I myself have struggled with sexual temptation to the same sex. But, what’s important is that you didn’t act on these thoughts outside of your body. If you feel driven, you have this space to share your thoughts. If not, I can bless you and provide you with your penance.” You pondered, once again. This was a stranger. What if this priest wasn’t as good as your mother claimed?

“Well… I thought of her performing.. sexual acts on me. With her fingers and her mouth. Saying dirty, terrible things to me. I don’t know anything of lesbian sex, I don’t even know where these thoughts came from.” You felt like crawling into a ball and just sitting there with your thoughts.

“In God’s name, I grant you forgiveness for your sins,” you released a breath. “I order you to fast for the next week, read your Bible, and return next week. In Jesus’ name we pray and forgive, Amen.” You said Amen, letting the priests’ words sink into your skin. You would fast, intermittently as instructed, but you weren’t sure how abstaining from food would remove the desires that you weren’t even sure you wanted to be rid of.

“You have a very kind voice,” you said quietly. “Thank you kindly, Father.” You spoke, southern charm briefly snaking its way into your vocabulary. You left the booth, feeling as if every eye in the room was digging into you, even though the booth is soundproofed. Like they knew that you were full of it, that you didn’t want to get better. All you wanted was to uphold your perfect little image. God didn’t have a place in your life.

It wasn’t until the following week that you were sure God wouldn’t ever forgive you.

The week had been long, almost torturous. Going without food didn’t feel like a penance, it just felt like work. You didn’t feel any more connected to God than you did the previous week, and all you were getting out of it was fatigue and falling asleep at work. Your bible did nothing, praying did nothing. You felt like none of it was ever going to cure you.

When you arrived at the church one week after you first stood there, you had no idea what to say to the Reverend. Would you say that you didn’t want to give up your sin, that you didn’t care what God thought? That what you were instructed to do wasn’t working, and the orders were wrong?

The church was empty when you stepped in, and it was daunting. It made the room look larger, the ceilings look taller, the rows of pews doubling as you walked closer to the front. Nobody was there, and you were sure that you did something wrong. Maybe you got the date wrong, maybe this was a fever dream, or a test from God.

You looked around, taking in every aspect of the church. The stained glass windows bared their blooming colors down onto your skin, changing it to shades of purple and green and blue. The room was warm, welcoming even. But that didn’t change the fact that it didn’t feel right. None of this was right.

Someone cleared their throat and you whipped back around to the front, taking in the person before you. It was a woman, but not a woman that looked like any other you had seen before in your entire life. She had short hair, cropped at the ear, and the shadow cast across her face made her grey eyes gleam. She was one hell of a sight.

That was when you knew.

“May I help you?” She asked, and you immediately recognized the voice. This was the priest that you spoke to last week, when you recited every thought that was currently resurrecting in your brain.

“I’m here for confession, I think,” you said quietly, slightly embarrassed as it appeared the event was cancelled. “I may be in the wrong place, I just moved here. Are you the Reverend?” She smiled, setting aside what she was doing.

“Yes ma’am. I’m sorry you couldn’t join us on Sunday, I announced then that this week’s confession had to be cancelled. But, I’m not busy if you want to talk. I’m Sevika,” she leaned against a railing that divided the altar and the nave, offering a hand for you to shake. “Have you confessed before?”

Sevika knew the answer. She knew the moment she saw you, the way you spoke, the look in your eyes. You were the woman from last week, who told her about your sexual desire for women. She was sure, now that she saw your face, that she would never forget you. There was a breathtaking person behind the filthy confessions, and it made her mind wander to places God would frown upon.

“Yes, last week, I was told to come back this week. I found that what I was ordered to do hasn’t been working. I still feel the way I did last week.” You huffed. She gestured to a pew and you followed her, taking your seat beside her.

She was so close, too close. Her knee pressed against your own, and you could basically hear the sound of her breathing. She was warm beside you, and her entire person drew you in, causing a lack of disconnect for the disgusting thoughts in your head. There were so many things. Her hands were huge, and the material of her black shirt stretched thin around her bicep. You were dying to see what was under the shirt, and if it was as tempting as it appeared to be. And then, of course, you were smacked in the face with the reminder of the fact that she was your future Reverend.

“Since we’re alone, do you feel compelled to remind me of your confession?” You shifted nervously, confessing out of the booth making you feel as if God had a better watch on you. Maybe you weren’t ready for this; maybe you didn’t want to change.

“Well.. it was about lust, and, um, other women. I’ve been having some thoughts about what it would be like to, maybe, indulge in.. sexual acts.. with other women. I think a lot about hands and voices, and..” you trailed off as your eyes slowly painted their way from the tips of her fingers, across her arm, up her neck, and all the way back to her eyes.

Sevika was good at hiding whatever she was thinking. She was desperate to know every thought that you had, pick apart that pretty little head until she had you in a perfect, open position. But she didn’t. “Is that so?” She hummed. Your thighs rubbed together as a familiar feeling rose between them - except this time, it was brought upon by another person, and not your own thoughts. “I remember you, now. Tell me why you don’t think your penance is working.”

You forced your brain to come back into the moment. “I made my fast, as instructed, and I prayed. I read my Bible every night, cover to cover. But.. it still doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel fixed. I’m still having these thoughts even when I don’t want to have them. They just creep up on me and take my mind under control.”

“Healing doesn’t happen overnight, lamb,” she watched your pupils dilate, and an ever so slight change in the pace of your breath. “It takes time. Once you open your heart and mind to God, He will take His time healing you. He doesn’t make mistakes.” You looked up at her, realizing then that she was dramatically taller than you, even when sitting.

“Reverend,” your gaze fell once again, this time focusing on your hands in your lap. “What if.. what if I don’t want to get better? A part of me wants to walk out of this church and never return. What if I like these thoughts, and I like what I’ve come up with? What if I want it to happen to me?” You thought back to the barista, who hadn’t even wandered into your mind since you got here. It was like she meant nothing any more, now that you had such a woman in front of you.

“My previous statement still applies. Moving away from the temptation of sin and sin itself comes with time,” she turned to you, placing a hand on your knee. “Inherently, your thoughts are not sin. They only become sin when you act on them.”

“Does touching myself count as acting on them?” God, her mind was racing.

“God never says that pleasuring yourself is a sin, but your thoughts leading up to doing such are what makes it a sin. If your fantasies include other women and doing sexual things with them rather than, let's say doing it to aid period cramps, then it turns into falling into temptation.” You nodded, taking in her words. You knew the answer, but you still didn’t feel bad.

“Thank you, Sevika. Would you be willing to offer me further penance?” She smiled, letting out a quick chuckle.

“I’m going to order you a personal one, and a church related one,” you met her eyes, scanning the depths of her face. You never wanted to forget it. “Though I’m not sure how often you do it, I want you to restrict touching yourself to the best of your ability, and I want you to continue your fast. Now, in Jesus’ name we pray, Amen,” you repeated her Amen, “return next week, or join us for church. We have a Wednesday night session at eight this week, if you’d like to attend.”

“I just might.” Your eyes were practically glued to hers, unrelenting. You needed to learn her, know every crook and crevice in her face. Every color in her eyes, and every wrinkle that found its way onto her aging face. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, Reverend. Thank you.” You stood with her and pulled her into your arms without thinking. You reached as far up onto your tippy-toes as you could, and the poor woman still had to bend to reach you.

“Have a good night, little lamb.” Her hands slid off your waist as you pulled away, walking away and leaving the church with your head in a daze.

You found yourself trapped in her daze until you were back to your apartment. Everything about her beyond fascinated you. There was a small color shift in her eyes, a haze of blue and dark grey that mixed together to create the most perfect color, dressed with growing crows feet in the corners, that pulled when she smiled. Her nose was large and round and stapled her face in a beautiful way, almost touched by a large scar that found its way down her cheek and neck.

You wondered how far the scar went, underneath her clerical collar. If it touched her chest, or found its way to her stomach, all the places you were desperate to see. Desperate, that was the word for you. Desperate to know the shade of her lips, and the way they felt on yours. Desperate to know how she spoke out of uniform, the things she liked to do.

Wednesday service was going to be unbearable.

Sevika was in a position similar to yours, but she liked the idea that she had the upper hand. She liked how you looked at her, and the way your thighs rubbed together ever so gently at the names she called you. She knew you didn’t want to get better, and she knew you wouldn’t. Not when you sat in the church, squirming and eyeing her arm like a slut.

But it also meant that she had you. If she wanted you, wanted to break her oath and ruin her purity for you, she could. You would let her. There wasn’t an inch of your body that would put God before her if she asked. She knew you were thinking the same things about her fingers and her mouth as you were about whatever woman drove you to come in the first place.

She never considered herself a particularly observant person, but the way she noticed the shift in your eyes, from good to bad, and the way you listened to her, patiently, she may have to start using the title. You were practically pliable, ready to be morphed into what she wanted from you.

She would never forget the words touching yourself leaving your mouth. She could imagine it, truly. See your hand sliding over your stomach and over your panties, rubbing your clit like it was enough. Refusing to fuck yourself on your fingers, afraid of what God might think. And when it wasn’t enough, she could see you sitting pretty on one of your pillows humping yourself on it like a dog, chasing any feeling of pleasure that you could derive from it. She could envision you like she was watching you on video.

Sevika was absolutely dripping wet in her living room, where she let her thoughts run several minutes ago. This was the first time anything of this sort had happened to her in years - she never thought like this, and was never this driven to act on it. Guilt overrode any substantial plans of finding the vibrator stuffed away in her closet.

No matter what happened, you were both fucked.

You let weeks pass. You had to. There was no way you could step into a house of God with her in it and pretend that you didn’t crave her from the depths of your skin. There was no use pretending anymore, not when thoughts of her crept into your mind at all times of the day, everyday, for the last two weeks. You were waiting for them to subside before going to the church, even thought about going to a different church to try and improve your thoughts.

Unfortunately, it didn’t help. The longer you were away from her, the stronger the thoughts grew. You had to go back. Somewhere, deep inside, you thought that if you went to the church, watched her preach about God, what she knew best, you would be relieved of the things holding you back.

And so, you got home from work, dressed nice, and prepared to go to church. The only thing your mother gifted you before you left was a rosary - it was beaded in red, with the equipment matching in gold. You wore it around your neck, the first time you had bothered taking it out of the box since she gave it to you, like it would save you. It wasn’t going to.

None of your thoughts about going to the church revolved around anything inappropriate. Sevika knew that, she knew it when you walked in quietly, five minutes before her sermon began. She knew when you sat in the front, and closed your eyes, letting her words melt into you while the rosary clung tight to your palm burned your skin. You were here for a reason that wasn’t known to your sweet little brain yet.

You were such a pretty thing, sitting there proper in a skirt that dusted your ankles and a headband that matched. Her eyes found you in the crowd every time she lifted her gaze from the holy book before her to the crowd. It wasn’t busy late on a Wednesday night, and she knew that’s why you were here. There were less suspecting eyes, less people to grow weary of an unfamiliar face amongst them.

Most importantly, there were less people that knew.

It wasn’t obvious to everyone, but someone in the crowd, you were sure, knew that you were thinking a grand scheme of unholy things about the reverend. You couldn’t stand it, these thoughts. You tried to convince yourself that she wasn’t looking at you when she preached, but the way her dark eyes drilled into your own when she read a verse forced your thoughts otherwise. When the service was over, you were going to bult. You couldn’t stay, couldn’t ever come back.

This was the end of your time as a Catholic. You had disappointed God far too much.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for the end of our service tonight, I want to talk about something that many of us in the crowd know and love,” Sevika smirked, “all of our married folk in the room, as I send you off tonight, I want all of y’all to remember that God calls us to enjoy and place importance in our relationships with sex,” there were hoots and hollers throughout the hall. “So I ask, in the name of God, have some fun between this service and our Sunday service. Let’s end with a prayer.”

Sevika began her prayer, but your mind was focused on her encouragement of sex. It made you wonder if Sevika was married, and if everything you had created in your head was just that - a creation. Fake. If you imagined the way she looked at you and the names she called you. It wasn’t real.

You had almost made your escape from the church without having to speak to her before you were cornered. Of course. Every priest did this. They bid farewell to those leaving the church at the end of the service, shaking hands and kissing babies, encouraging the group to return the following Sunday.

And like every other, she did it to you. “Thought I’d never see you again, peach.” She chuckled. Like a puppy, you were drawn to her as the stranglers made their way out. “Walk with me,” you did as told, following by her side as you walked back up the aisle towards the altar. “Did you enjoy the service?” You contemplated giving a half-assed answer, anything that could get you out of this church as quickly as possible.

“Yes, it was nice to sit in on a service again. It’s been a while. Speaking of which-” you tried, once again, to get away, the outcome reflecting similarly to the first time.

“Will you be joining us on Sunday?” Sevika was doing everything in her power to get you to stay. The more she talked to you, the more she asked, she knew you would. Pliant. It was a phenomenal word for you. So… flexible. Willing, even. With the way your eyes widened with every word she said, lips parting and cheeks reddening like she was the most fascinating thing on earth… it was easy. You were easy.

“I’m not sure if I’ll be able.” It felt like lying. The short answer was no, and the long answer was no, you couldn’t ever step foot into this church again without the fear of God coming down and smiting you himself. Telling her that you may have plans wasn’t a lie, simply an aversion to the harsh truth.

“Well if you can, we’d love to have you. You make a great audience member.” You stopped dead in your tracks, still. Hopefully she didn’t notice. The comment was clearly an innuendo, hinting at the way your thighs pushed together under your skirt and the way your hands bunched up the material every time you thought she looked your way.

“That’s kind of you to say,” your fingertips smoothed over the rosary around your neck, drawing her eyes to the spot on accident. She was good at watching you, and you were aware. She took a step closer to you, entering your personal space. She wasn’t far - close enough that you could smell the cologne she had on. It was a musky mix of wood and something deep, and you let your eyes flutter closed.

“Is this new?” She asked, large fingers finding the piece like a feather. You were burning now, burning like you were floating in front of the sun itself. She could inevitably feel the temperature of your skin and the rapid pace of your heart, and feel it she did.

“No,” you whispered back, “my mother gifted it to me before I left.” Your eyes were squeezed shut tighter than they had been for the extent of your life.

“Do you pray to it every night? You feel saved yet, pretty?” She pushed further, seeing how much you would take before you snapped out of it and left, never to be seen by her again. You were pretty. The prettiest girl she’d ever seen, will ever see. It was only her duty to tell you that.

“No.” You opened your eyes, meeting hers and immediately realizing her closeness. “In fact, I think I may try a new church, one that feels more right.” You felt weak, trying to pretend to be strong. But her proximity to you, her smell, her hand still rubbing over the cross, it was all too much to be strong.

“Are you now?” Sevika was amused by this, especially knowing that nothing would tear you away from the things you felt about her. “Why’s that, lamb? Something I should know about in my church that’s bothering you?” You sighed, frustrated and turned on more than you’d like to admit.

“I feel as if your penances aren’t working, nothing has changed. And you..” She cut off the end of your sentence, abruptly.

“Me?” She asked in a playful tone, like she knew this was working. Like she knew that heat was pooling in your belly and your panties were wet.

“You’re distracting me. From being saved.” She smirked, stepping even further into your space. You backed up, not going far before your back hit the railing that divided the ambo and the crossing. You were stuck between her and the railing, but there was nothing to object. Not now. Her knuckles ran down your bare chest until they reached the start of your top, where she switched to her fingers.

Leaning in, with her fingertips running down your side, she spoke. “No, little lamb,” she leaned in, mouth finding the shell of your ear. “You just don’t want to be.” Her hand fastened around your hip, pushing it into the railing. “In fact, with all of these thoughts of yours, I don’t even know if God can save you.”

“I don’t.. I don’t know what you want me to say to that.” You pouted. You weren’t exactly scared, at the moment, but something else was creeping up inside of you. She had the means and opportunity to do absolutely whatever she wanted to you, right now. And the worst, most gut wrenching part of all of it, is that you’d say yes.

“Give in.” The moment your eyes met hers, her lips were slamming into your own.

Kissing her was like kissing an angel. You had kissed plenty of boys in your life, but where their spit and shitty tongue turned you off, Sevika’s bruising force and toe-curling kisses turned you on. She pressed her lips into you with fervor, chasing every feeling she could get out of you, and you didn’t resist.

It was terrible, truly, how you let her do it. Let her suck your tongue into her mouth and wrap her large hand around your throat. Awful. Ungodly. It would be best if you pushed her away and ran out of the church, chasing your dignity that seemingly flew out the stained-glass window. But it was so fucking good.

She was so much bigger than you, also. There was no way that you could escape from her now, not like this. Not when your mind was spinning and your legs were about to let out, all from a kiss. All from her hands on your hips and her warm body pressed to yours. And when she pulled away, looking at you darkly like her next meal, you couldn’t help but let out a pathetic noise, and she smirked.

“This is wrong,” you insisted, but your grip on the front of her gown didn’t cease. “This isn’t good, this isn’t what God wants.” You were battling with the fact. This wasn’t anything close to what God wanted. God called for pleasure in marriage, marriage between one man and one woman. But here you were.

“Leave, lamb. Walk away. Go be good,” she took a step back, your grip on her shirt releasing, teasing smirk still painted on her stunning features. This was your chance, your opportunity to move back home and keep being good, keep being that sweet little version of you that seemed to be gone forever. But you didn’t move, you couldn’t move. “That’s what I thought. You want this, don’t you, sweet thing?” You were practically shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Hesitantly, you nodded. It was slow, and only once. Sevika was back on you in an instant, trapping you against the railing once again while she dragged your legs up and around her hips. She kissed your neck, doing far more than any stupid boy had in the past. It wasn’t long before any thoughts of God began to slip from your brain, too busy focusing on the way her warm mouth sucked the skin on your neck, adding her teeth and quickly flicking her tongue over the spot to ease any pain.

You couldn’t blame anyone for enjoying this. Not when she did the things that she did to you. “You’re always so good, baby,” she kissed the spot right below your ear. “Don’t you think you deserve something for being so good all the time?” Once again, you nodded slowly. “Answer me, lamb. You’ll learn quickly that doing what I say will get you what you want.”

“Yes,” your voice shook with your answer, eyes drifting to the side. It was an embarrassing experience, but it was only deserved. She let your legs down, backing away slightly with a chuckle.

“Yes what, baby? What do you deserve?” A flush of red warmed your cheeks. It was hard to say something you didn’t agree with; you hadn’t been good, you didn’t deserve anything because you weren’t good. If you acted right, you still didn’t deserve anything. God didn’t give out favors for simply doing what you were called to do.

Sevika’s words snuck their way into your mind quickly. You were so far gone already, what’s a little bit more? She had already made you feel this good and she had hardly touched you. What was just a little more? Maybe she was right, maybe God hated you.

“Yes, I deserve something for being good,” you cringed at your own words, flinching away from her gaze. She pulled your forward off of the railing, lifting you over her shoulder like it was nothing. Like you were a piece of paper in comparison to her strength.

You found purchase atop the sermon table, the fat of your thighs morphing against the divots in the wood, through your skirt. Every church had a table in the altar, one where the reverend could sit things out or create a sort of symbolism of God, but right now, she was pushing everything off to sit you onto it, reattaching her lips to your neck rapidly.

You were writhing under her by the time her lips found your collarbone, leaving a trail of dark marks. “Let’s take this off, pretty thing. Can you do that for me?” She ran her pointer and middle finger under the elastic of your skirt as she whispered in your ear, planting a kiss under it.

You didn’t hesitate in lifting your hips and slipping it down, leaving you in your top and panties. It was the epitome of a compromising position, looking up at her half naked with your hair static and your makeup messed up. “You’re so pretty, aren’t you?” You nodded, but that was hardly enough for her, as you should've anticipated. She grabbed your jaw, pressing her fingers into your cheeks to hollow them out. “What did we just talk about?”

“Yes, I’m pretty.” You mumbled through the force of her hands.

“That’s it,” she cooed, removing her hand in favor of pulling you up by your upper arms and spinning you around, folding you over the table in front of you. With a gasp, your cheek came down on the wood with your hands flat next to your head. You were ass up, pink panties covering the one thing that nobody else had ever seen. “Whatever will I do with you, little lamb? God doesn’t like sluts who bend over for their priests.” Her hand came down to knead the flesh of your ass.

You whimpered, pushing back into the touch. It was humiliating, really, how wet you got when she said such vile things, using your religion, your existence against you. Even with that in mind, you were practically dripping through your panties, you may even be. All you knew was that your thighs were wet and that Sevika was the only one who could see anything else.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” You whined, glancing over your shoulder at her. The look in her eyes had far surpassed something sinister. She pressed her flesh thumb into the wet patch on your underwear, against your drenched entrance, laughing as you mewed.

“You’re in no position to make demands, peach. Not when you're this wet from some kissing. This how you feel every time you see me?” Her mech hand came down hard on your ass when you didn’t answer, making you flinch again. “The first time we met, I knew you’d be easy. Wide eyes and those pretty legs that rubbed together with every word I said. Has anyone ever touched you here before, little lamb?” She ran her flesh thumb up and down the sensitive skin and you attempted to tighten your thighs with no avail.

“No, only..” you trailed off as she sank to her knees, pressing a kiss into the crease between your ass and your upper thigh, letting them travel down your hamstring.

There was a pause before she answered you, “Only?” she pushed, desperate to know if her fingers would be the first in your pretty cunt. She continued her trail of kisses all over your thighs as you pondered whether or not to answer her.

“Only my own.” You whispered, guilt taking you over as you decided that answering was probably a better idea than whatever consequence she would award you if you didn’t.

She hummed. “What do you think about when you fuck your cunt with your fingers, pretty thing?” You clenched down on something nonexistent as her words shot straight to your core. This was absolutely disgusting. Before you could think to answer, her tongue was lapping lazily at your clit over your panties, taking a fat lick from your clit to your hole. Her hand came down on your ass again, learching you forward with a moan.

“You,” you sputtered, “I think about you.” she moaned into you, sending soft vibrations through your system, just enough to make you tense, a new wave of slick rushing through your panties.

She didn’t bother with any more humiliating questions with forced answers, instead opting to press her face into you and continue licking at your center over your panties. She went like that for several minutes, until you were practically crying and your panties were soaked - partially her spit and partially the wetness that was leaking from you like a hose.

Your mind was in a daze when she stood, tucking her fingers underneath the elastic of your underwear as she began to drag it over your ass. “Lift your hips, pretty girl. Let me make you feel good, since you’re so needy.” You couldn’t even think to do it, resulting in her lifting them for you. It only made you wetter, the way she lacked any form of struggle when lifting you, essentially doing it with one hand while she used the other to drag your pantues down.

She didn’t allow them to come all the way off before she was attaching her wide lips to your clit. With your panties strung around your ankles and her tongue on your clit, you knew that this was the end of anything pertaining to you and God. There was no place for God when she had a mouth like that.

“I think God blessed y’r pussy, baby. Tastes so fucking good.” She followed with a groan, sucking your clit into her mouth. You almost shrieked, lurching forward once again as the nerve exploded with feeling. Porn had never even come close to making you feel this way, let alone your pillow or fingers.

With a final peck, Sevika flicked her tongue against your entrence, pushing it through the tight muscle and wasting no time tongue-fucking you like you weren’t in a house of God. She was messy, grabbing your hips with both hands and pulling you into her face, letting you rock into it and hump her like some sort of dog. Her face was soaked, from her nose to her chin, but nothing was stopping her.

Sevika was having the time of her life. She got exactly what she wanted, just like she knew she would. And to make it even better, you had the wettest pussy of any girl she’d ever fucked. When she took her oath, she was sure that she would miss eating out the most, making you a prize. Your cunt was so good that she was sure she would resign the moment she got you home safe. THere was no way in hell she would be able to go without this for longer than a day.

Not only were you drenching her like a baptism, but you were also moaning and squirming and making all the best noises that drove a sane woman crazy. Your cunt had to be heaven, your body that of an angel. This was her blessing, her calling and her salvation. It was you, all of you.

A pit grew in your stomach, wrapping itself around every inch of your body until she whispered, “come, lamb” had your muscles relaxing and your legs shaking, wave after wave of pleasure rocking you like a punch. Sevika didn’t halt, drinking up every last drop that she could get from you, and she didn’t stop there.

Once she was sure your orgasm was over, she stood, flipping you over until your back was resting against the wood. She pressed her middle finger against your hole, groaning into your neck as you swallowed her in. “You’re such a good girl, yeah? Gonna get broken in tonight, peach. ‘m gonna stretch you so good, make you so full.” You practically screamed as she curled her single finger up into the best spot in your body, one that you hadn’t touched yourself.

“Vika, ‘s too much,” you slurred, but all she did was press her cold, mech thumb onto your tongue, husing you. She added another finger, letting you adjust knuckle by knuckle until you were full. She fucked you like that for some time, crooking up with every thurst until your tears were regular.

“One more big stretch, my girl can do it, can’t she?” you shook your head no, but it wasn’t true. You wanted to see how far you could go, how much you could take. Your body begged to indulge and be stretched open for her, molding to every part of her.

Her third, thick finger protruded your entrance and you cried out, fat salty tears falling down your cheeks. It burned when she got the first knuckle in, and your hand shot down to her wrist to hold it in place. Using the wetness that your mouth provided, she rubbed circles into your clit with her mech hand, helping you adjust to the feeling.

When she bottomed out, you were close to sobbing. She wasn’t joking when she insisted on filling you, you were full to the hilt, shaking like a leaf with every delicious curl of her fingers. Once she got going, there was no slowing her down. She fucked into you like the world was ending, unrelenting in her pace as she did nothing but watch all three fingers get sucked in every time.

Your mind was swimming, stuck in what you were sure was an alternate universe. There was no way that a single woman was making you feel this good, making your eyes roll back and your tongue loll out like you had no thoughts. “Hey,” she caught your attention, but your brain and recognition was at an all-time slow. “Watch your greedy,” you whined as her mech hand came down no your clit, “fucking,” it came down again, only increasing your noise, “cunt,” she finished it off with one final slap, “sucks in my fucking fingers.”

You gazed down, watching every thrust. You reached up, pulling her body against your own as you approached your next orgasm. You held her close to you, nails scratching and digging into her toned back when her mechanical hand began its pace on your clit. “Sev.. Sev, I-I can’t do it, it hurts,” you cried, hands tightening on her shoulders as your muscles tensed.

“My strong girl, you can do it. Give me another one.” She increased her pace ever so slightly and that’s what did it, clenching down on her so tightly that you feared for her circulation. You came for what felt like hours, shaking and crying and holding her like she was the only thing keeping you alive. “Atta girl, little lamb. See how good you are at listening?” You only moaned, further extending your finish.

When you were finally finished, she pulled her fingers from you and tapped your lips, motioning for you to open them. You did, not expecting her to push all three in and down your throat. You caught on quickly that she wanted you to suck them, sucking them clean of your own release. It was purely erotic, not coming anywhere close to things that you had done to yourself or thought of having done to yourself.

Once her fingers were clean, Sevika dipped her head down once again, this time only licking up the mess that you had already made. Her intentions didn't stop you from twitching and squirming, though. She pulled you up, letting you put all of your weight on her as she redressed you. Your legs were basically jelly, so much happening that there was no way you could stand or even manage to get yourself home.

Without asking, she effortlessly scooped you into her arms and out of the church, only briefly sitting you down to lock the doors. You wondered whether or not she had left things since she was clearly in a hurry, but it hardly mattered with the fuzzy state of your mind.

She got you home and helped you up the stairs to your apartment, but she didn’t stop there. She helped you change and tucked you in, even pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Sleep well, lamb.” She said softly as she disappeared out your door.

And you knew, then, that you weren’t ever going to see her again.

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gemsonfire · 8 days ago

Text

contains: royalty!au, sevika and reader are part of enemy kingdoms and have been pushed into an arranged marriage with each other for the sake of peace, mentions of violence between kingdoms, smut (minors + ageless blogs dni), sevika has a dick, breeding kink + talk of reader being pregnant, corruption kink (sevika goading reader about being inexperienced and from a kingdom where chastity is prized), hate sex (insulting each other, cursing at each other, reader has thoughts of wanting to be violent with sevika, lots of taunting), kinks that are not negotiated (breeding, pain play, humiliation), reader uses pain play to lash out at sevika (ex. tightening their thighs around sevika's head, scratching sevika), sevika goes faster and harder out of frustration with reader (sevika doesn't intend to cause reader pain, but reader states not knowing if it's meant to be punishment or reward, but does enjoy the pacing), dubious consent (sevika seduces reader into having sex with her, sevika brings up breeding since it's what's expected to be part of their marriage, but later legitimately confirms reader's consent to her coming inside), reader is called "princess" and "wife," reader's body is referred to with the terms: "pussy," "cunt"

a/n: this is inspired by an m4f audio I came across on reddit, made by u/AugustInTheWinter -- I haven't listened to it in full, so I can't guarantee all the content in it, so please check his warnings and keep it all in mind.

dividers by: @/strangergraphics and @/anitalenia

you should despise her. your hatred for her should be so fiery, so sizzling, that it has the strength to burn through skin and seep to her bones. you should have hatched a plan to kill her tonight, to brace a pillow against that ridiculous smirk and finally seek vengeance for all of what her people have done to yours. for all the friends that have been harmed and cruelly extracted from this earth due to the people under her father's reign. it shouldn't matter that this is your wedding night with her, that this day is meant to represent a union that births peace, sealed by the curt kiss shared at the altar.

you should hate her. you should be taking out years of pent up rage on her.

so, then, why are you mewling on the large, grand bed that had been covered in layers of luxurious velvet blankets, meticulously crafted for a night of comfort? why are your thighs tight around her head as her tongue slathers spit all over your folds, both of which you can feel dripping with thick wetness from every gush that leaks out of your pussy? why is your mind numbed and wrung out from every burning ember of rage that had bored holes into your thoughts just hours ago? why are you bucking your hips against her soft lips, the bump of her scar sliding across your clit? why is nothing on your mind but her?

"not so mouthy now, huh?" she drawls, and you grit your teeth at the snark in her voice.

"I think you're already doing enough mouthing for the both of us," you try to retort back, your voice too whine-filled to sound firm with conviction.

"well, someone's gotta get this pussy wet," she mumbles against your cunt, landing a sloppy kiss to your clit that sends pleasure skyrocketing through you. "it might as well be me, considering you're my wife."

your stomach flips at the word, the connotation one that's so possessive that you nearly forget that she's a stranger at best, a lifelong enemy at worse.

"o-only doing it out of obligation, then?" you challenge, your voice unravelling at the seams as her long finger begins to push into the tight rim of your cunt, sliding against the rough texture of your insides.

"yeah," she responds, her grey eyes honed in on you, like a predator finding her next meal caught in a trap. holding your gaze in her own, she flattens her tongue, dragging it up the swollen shape of your clit, sending your vision aflame as you squeeze your eyes shut. "why, you think I'd actually want you?"

just out of spite, you lock your legs tighter, keeping her face shoved into your pussy. a raspy, deep groan hurls from her mouth, and you grin in victory at the sound of it. however, your satisfied expression is soon shattered as her lips encircle your clit and begin peppering it with short-lived, hard sucks that send you shaking like a leaf.

"yeah, I think you do," you laugh, the noise half a broken gasp with the deep throb sizzling in your sensitive bud as she tends to it diligently.

the sharp points of her prosthetic arm dig into the plush of your thigh, shoving it from her cheek so that she has space to breathe, sending you a sharp glare.

"fucking brat," she mutters. yet still, her eyes flutter shut as her tongue begins flicking wet little zig-zags against you, the quick, pressured motions making you tighten on her fingers. "I'm only doing this so you're wet enough to take my dick."

the filthy words send your walls spasming, clamping rapidly over her two thick fingers that are plunging into you without relent. streams of liquid gush from your hole, pouring out and immediately getting swiped up by the flat of her tongue, which continues lapping at your clit. the pleasure derived from the movements prolongs your orgasm, thighs aching with the amount of tension that punctures through them as you freeze up from your orgasm.

she darkly chuckles against you. "that did it for you?"

she slides her fingers out of your hole, which clenches down in protest, immediately longing for something to stretch it full. you hope that by sheer willpower, such a thought can be wrenched out of your cloud of lust. you shouldn't want any part of her inside of you. her fingers are already bad enough as is. after all, you had vowed to yourself earlier that day that you wouldn't let her brush a mere finger on even a patch of skin.

but, then, she had cornered you to the wall, towering over you, her breath, smelling of cigar smoke, fanning over your face and coating it in bitter warmth. she had taunted you for how inexperienced you must be, for she knew that your people like to keep their chastity until marriage. she had asked you in a low, velvety voice if you had ever fucked yourself, if you had ever sated your curiosity of what it is to have cock stuffing your holes full. you had kept your mouth clamped shut, but apparently it was to no avail, considering she was a master of body language. the stiffening of your body, the hitch of your breath, the widening of your eyes -- they had all proven to be telltale signs for her, unravelling your secrets of using dildos of different sizes and lengths, burying them to the hilt until your sweet spot was slammed into with every thrust.

her lips had brushed over your cheek, gliding over the pimples that had been produced by the sugary sweets that had been fed to you at the engagement party. she had whispered that she has a real one, one that's warm and that you'll feel getting harder inside you. one with balls filled with seed, ready to be poured into you. the lewdness of her words had sent equal measures of fascination and disgust unfurling within you. your kingdom was vehemently against such crude language, as well as the embracing of heated touches and aroused-filled gazes. everything was kept to the walls of a home, hidden from the public. it had even taken months of scouring for you to secure yourself the most scandalous of erotic books, and you're royalty, for goodness' sake.

but, those books don't at all compare to the real thing. not when the head of sevika's cock is beginning to sink into your hole, hot and soft as it glides through your thick arousal. you should be shoving her away, kicking at her crotch, cursing at her. but, instead, your legs instinctually wrap around her trimmed waist, hands desperately clawing at her back through the white, billowy shirt she sported all day under her velvet vest that had been embroidered with the fire emblem of her kingdom. you had nearly spat on it when her face, twisted with snark, had come down the alter and stopped in front of yours.

"oh," you moan, the noise nearly wounded with how high and desperate it is. your eyes are squeezed shut, guilt churning in your stomach, holding you back from resting your gaze upon her and sharing something as vulnerable as eye contact. but, still, you feel her, all over. you feel the thick weight of her arms, propped on either side of your head, caging you in. you feel the hard grooves of her toned stomach flattened against yours. you feel the ripples of her back muscles as she tenses up, clearly resisting from going to fast. a fact which nearly makes you want to flutter your eyes open.

when she bottoms out, her balls gently smacking against your swollen, drenched pussy lips, a strangled cry flies from your mouth.

and your body immediately is seized by humiliation. you sound downright eager for her cock. what's wrong with you?

needing to lash out at anything, anyone, you grumble out through clenched teeth: "your size isn't that impressive. don't tell me your pacing is just as disappointing."

a soft snicker hits your face. "you trying to goad me into fucking you harder? who knew the princess was this nasty?"

your eyelids fling open, purely to send her a rage-filled glare. it's difficult, though, to keep your features as locked into tight anger when you take in the intimacy of the position. hovering above you, her dark hair fans over her face, the candlelight of the room coating her in a warm, orange glow. her lips are perked up in a small smile, and you notice for the first time it sends her nose wrinkling. the endearing detail makes you falter for a moment -- it's the first soft thing you have picked up on from her. it humanizes her, makes her undeniably real. a detailed person beyond the years of animosity between your respective kingdoms. your wife.

you swallow hard at the thought, looking away.

she tsks. "none of that," she mutters, her large hand cupping your jaw and coaxing you to look back at her. "you're gonna look at me when I take you."

as if to prove her point, her hips lift from their brace on yours, slipping her cock almost all the way out, only the head sucked in. a split second later, she rams back in, the entire length of her thrusting hard into you.

you softly wail, your hands darting up to find purchase on her curved biceps, digging your nails into them as she continues to push in and out of you, steadily pumping inside. your head sinks deeper into the plush pillow, vision slightly blurred as you watch her teeth bite down hard together, her little gap winking at you as she grunts with every thrust. her dark eyebrows are scrunched up, painting lines into her forehead, which is shiny with sweat. to know she's as affected as you is a cold comfort, and a stubborn urge stabs through you to break her down so she's even more of a mess than you are.

your legs tighten around her waist, urging her to press in closer, the weight of her strong, heavy body coating your skin in toasty warmth. your nails rake down her back, and you delight in the choked out gasp that shoots from her lips.

"what the fuck?" she hisses, her hand diving into your hair to yank you back, eyes narrowed on you as she keeps pumping in.

you could nearly cackle at her incredulity. "you deserve fucking worse," you spit out.

she rolls her eyes, her breaths laboured as she says, "you know, I thought I'd go easy on you, but you're just a fucking--"

her hips begin to speed up, slamming into you with every push and pull, wet sounds ringing through the room from both of you being moist with sweat. her dick prods at your spongey little spot, and it causes bolts of ecstasy to zap through your body, making you nearly scream in pleasure, your mouth falling open. you can't tell if these brutal movements are meant to be a punishment, a reward or her simply giving into her desires that she had forced dormant up until this moment. no matter what, though, it makes your body shake under hers, your limbs scrambling to cling onto her tighter, wanting her full weight burying you into the mattress.

"you're just the same as the rest of them," she grunts, her voice biting and hard.

"and--and, ah, you aren't?" you pant, trying to sound sure of yourself in spite of the whines littering your words. "you fucking disgust me."

to punctuate your words even further, you dig your nails into her arms again, wanting to mark her up and have her look upon the scratches the next day and remember that she's not invincible with you.

the pain only seems to egg her on, and she's rutting even faster now, her cock driving into you at an unfaltering pace that has pathetic little moans tumbling from your mouth, your entire pussy throbbing with arousal and unadulterated need.

"yeah? and whose seed do you think is gonna be buried in your tight little cunt tonight, huh? mine," she whispers, a satisfied, wicked grin curling at her lips. "the seed of your enemy, the load of the woman you hate, buried in you until you're carrying our heir."

it shouldn't make your mind so malleable, but the thought of her warm come getting dumped into your hole, pushed in until it swims in your womb, then getting your stomach swollen, has you sobbing in pleasure. the mere thought of how it'd feel sensation-wise, hot and thick, and the connotations of her claiming your body like this, truly uniting your beings in this way, has you dizzy. maybe the hopeless romantic in you is just piercing through this situation, but you can't resist how it makes your hole clench on her.

"I--I--" you stumble, too wrecked with desire to form a comeback.

"that's it, just give in," she breathes out, her dick continuing to jam into you, saliva hanging from her open mouth and splattering onto your cheek. the cool wetness of it has you shivering, fire rupturing through your body when her tongue drags along the blob, smearing it all over your cheek.

your own tongue lolls out on instinct, and you gasp softly when it accidentally swipes hers. her hips stutter, her head raising slightly, the two of you sharing a lingering stare that has your skin heating up. god, why are her eyes so pretty?

it takes only a split second of those very eyes glancing to your mouth before you surge up, capturing her lips.

she meets you there immediately, her lips pushing against yours, swallowing down your moans as her thumb begins to roughly flick at your clit. her tongue roves in, massaging yours with the careful precision only years of practice would have perfected. you're surprised at how bitter that knowledge tastes on your gums, through the crevices of your teeth. she's the first to take you this way, and as much as you hate it, you feel tethered to her now. she's the first to be inside of you, and feel your body in all its most private ways, and it makes you feel infinitely attached in a way that seems all too soft and tender for a marriage born out of desperation. but, her? she's had others before you. it causes an unexpected bolt of jealousy through you. you want this to matter to her too.

you kiss her harder, yearning for reassurance in some way, for you dare not confess to her where your thoughts are lingering. thankfully, she delivers, her teeth skimming along the plush of your bottom lip, and when you gasp from the sting of it, she sucks on your tongue, the motions sloppy and smooth.

"can I come in you?" she mumbles against your mouth. "we don't have to."

your fingers dig harder into her skin. any alternative feels unfathomable. "no, no, please, come in me. I--I need it, need your seed so bad, wanna feel it--"

she silences you with a harsh kiss, your teeth clashing together as she continues to furiously rub at your clit. when her finger pointedly strokes against the side of you hood, a surprisingly sensitive spot for you, your body suddenly seizes then breaks into long, rippling shudders. a long, husky wail breaks through the sounds of heavy breathing and skin slapping, your hole fluttering hard, the motions barely registering in your head with the thick weight of her cock stretching you out.

moments later, a loud groan, one that sounds so deep that you suspect it comes from somewhere in her tummy, bursts from her mouth. she jerks her cock into you with two more thrusts that are so pointed and strong that they send your body jolting further up the mattress, and then, she's coming. a choked out whine creeps up your throat as you feel her thick come beginning to leak into you, filling you with streams of liquid that makes her dick's movements in you squelch even louder. it coats your insides, stuffing you impossibly full as she continues rocking inside, fucking it deep into you.

when her movements slow to a stop, her body sags against you, forehead dropping to your shoulder. the musky scent of sweat and juices surround you both, and your eyes grow heavy with the weight of exhaustion.

legs still wrapped around her, her softening cock trapped inside of you, you absent-mindedly stroke your fingers over the scratches you left on her back. you suddenly wonder if you ought to apologize, but immediately absolve yourself of the sentiment. you've let her in enough tonight. both literally and metaphorically.

you want to push her off, and tell her to retire to her separate chambers for the night. but, her weight on you is too comforting, like a solid blanket. and your emotions are too hooked into her right now, chest aching at the idea of her leaving.

you're rummaging your mind for what to say, how to behave, when a soft snore rumbles from her, her torso trembling slightly from the movement of it.

you gulp. you should be telling her to wake up and leave. you should be shuffling out from under her and spending the night alone. you should be plotting a way to take advantage of this situation.

so, then, why are you letting yourself lull to sleep? resting easily in the arms of your -- well, your wife.

you choose not to think on it. just for tonight. just for your wedding night.

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