#haima x reader

[mamaqknowu]

˓  ㅤ 𔕛 KINKTOBER 2025 : Bath sex

Paring : Jealousy!Sea Spear Douluo x Fem!Reader

Rating : nsfw

Words : 2.2K

C/W : pwp / age gab / jealousy / multiple orgasms / smut / kink / bath sex / dirty talk / titty fucking / begging / impregnantation / lactation.

Version : eng

 ⠀ ⠀ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ

 ⠀ ⠀ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ

The slam of the door was a blade in the silence.

It didn’t echo. It reverberated. A deep-throated thud that made the walls flinch and the floor shift under your bare feet. It was not a sound meant to announce his arrival—it was a sentence, passed down before he’d spoken a word.

And then came the stillness. A cruel, sharp kind of stillness. The kind that makes heat rise before touch. Makes breath catch before sound.

You stood in the bathroom wrapped in a too-thin towel that clung to your damp skin, heart already pounding, as if it knew something your mind refused to admit.

Steam lingered from the shower you’d taken moments earlier, drifting upward like ghosts. But the air was no longer warm. It was stifling. Because it wasn’t water fogging the mirror—it was him.

His presence alone distorted the world around him. Sea Spear Douluo was not a man you could simply breathe beside. He was a storm pulled tight into the shape of muscle and menace.

And tonight, that storm had a target.

You.

He didn’t say your name. He didn’t need to.

“You let him touch you.”

The voice didn’t rise. It didn’t shout. But it cracked against your skin like a whip. Calm. Low. Burned through the air with the weight of command. It hit something inside you—something hot and terrified and needy.

You tried to speak. You really did. Your lips parted, but your tongue didn’t dare shape defense.

It wouldn’t have mattered. Because he was already moving. Crossing the tile in those deliberate, booted steps, like a predator whose prey had already accepted its place.

He reached for you and you didn’t resist.

His fingers were not tender.

They caught your chin, lifting it—just enough pressure to mark, not enough to bruise yet, but the threat curled beneath every inch of his hold.

His eyes locked onto yours, and you felt your spine soften under his stare, your breath hitch.

“Did he earn it?” he asked again, voice rougher now, like gravel dragged across velvet.

“Did that bastad deserve to put his filthy eyes on you? Did you let him imagine fucking you while I was gone?”

The mirror behind you shimmered. The steam made your reflection hazy, ghost-like. But you could still see it—the tension in your shoulders, the flush creeping up your chest.

Your eyes—wide, defenseless. And his. Pitch dark, unreadable, full of heat that could boil oceans.

“You like being watched, don’t you?” he continued, tone curling into something darker, laced with mockery and the promise of punishment.

“You like tempting. Teasing. Letting other men wonder what you sound like when you cum.”

His hand dropped from your face. Just for a second.

Then it found the zipper on your towel.

And pulled.

The fabric peeled away with a whisper and a hiss, the metal teeth shrieking in protest. Cold air kissed your skin just before his gaze did, and your body reacted—nipples pebbling tight, back arching without thought, breath sucked between your teeth.

He exhaled—one low sound, like a predator savoring the sight of prey stripped and trembling.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered.

Then his mouth was on your chest. Not gently. Not sweet. His lips brushed the swell of your breast, then opened, and he bit—not hard enough to break skin, but deep enough to leave heat.

Then his tongue followed, hot and sinuous, swirling around your nipple and sucking it into his mouth. His other hand slipped down, cupping your thigh, dragging you toward the sink, until your hips bumped against porcelain and he lifted you onto it.

The counter was cool. He was not.

He pulled your legs apart, spreading you open like an offering. His breath washed over your thighs, and when his fingers slid through your folds, he found you soaked—dripping, shameless, flushed with guilt and want.

He laughed under his breath.

“Tsk. Dripping because I’m angry?” His thumb stroked your clit, slow and cruel.

“You’re wetter now than you were when I kissed you this morning.”

You whimpered, shivering as he slid a finger inside, slow at first—then another, pumping them in and curling upward until your hips jolted.

The sound of him fucking you with just his fingers filled the bathroom, lewd and sticky and wet.

“Maybe I should let others touch you more often,” he said, voice almost thoughtful, like a man making plans.

“If this is how your cunt reacts. Betraying you. Begging me.”

You gasped when his fingers twisted. Your legs clamped around his arm instinctively, body seizing as heat twisted tight in your belly.

“No—please—” you tried, but your voice was already dissolving.

“Beg better.”

“I—I’m yours,” you moaned, panting. “Only yours—always yours, please, please—make me—!”

He didn’t wait for you to finish. He ripped a third orgasm from you before the first one had fully faded. Your cries bounced off the tile, wild and broken. He stood, dragging his slick fingers across your lips.

“Swallow.”

You obeyed.

And he unbuckled his belt.

The clatter of the belt buckle echoed like a warning bell across the bathroom’s tile walls—metal against ceramic, sharp and final. His hands worked quickly, pulling his cock free, already hard, already swollen, veins pulsing with restrained fury.

He looked down at you—not like a lover, not even like a man—but like a claim incarnate. A beast whose territory had been trespassed, and now the world would pay in sweat, moans, and spilled seed.

“You’re going to remember,” he murmured, gripping your thighs and dragging you forward, your ass teetering on the cool edge of the counter.

“Not just tonight. Every time you try to walk. Every time you feel this cum leaking down your thighs, you’ll remember who fucking owns you.”

He leaned forward, pressing his cock between your breasts, sliding through the soft weight of them, smearing his precum over your flushed skin.

“Hold them together,” he ordered.

Your arms moved without thought, pushing your tits together around his length, wrapping them in soft heat.

He began to thrust—slow at first, deliberate, letting the head of his cock emerge slick and glistening between the valley of your breasts.

Each motion left your nipples brushing against his abs, sending jolts of sensation through you.

“Fuck… that’s it.” His voice dropped, husky and low.

“Filthy little thing. Letting me fuck your tits while your cunt’s still twitching from how hard I fingered you.”

Your hips twitched, traitorous. The friction, the sight, the utter helplessness of being used like this—it all pooled low in your belly again, warmth building to a slow, dangerous boil.

His eyes met yours. He slowed. Pressed the head of his cock against your lips.

“Want to taste?”

You nodded, eyes wide and dark with hunger.

He let you wrap your lips around him for only a second—just long enough to taste salt and musk, to hear his hiss of pleasure—before he pulled back and dragged himself down your chest again. He wasn’t here to let you tease. He was here to claim.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pulled you up off the counter and turned you, bending you over the sink with one hand splayed over your lower back and the other gripping your hip.

The mirror in front of you showed your own face—flushed, mouth open, pupils blown wide. It also showed him behind you, bare-chested, hair wild, muscles taut beneath bronze skin.

Then he thrust.

All the way in.

One brutal push that punched the breath from your lungs and made your hands claw at the edge of the sink.

He didn’t pause.

He didn’t ask.

He just took.

Every slam of his hips drove his cock deeper, grinding against your cervix with a precision born from obsession.

Your breasts swung beneath you, leaking milk in rhythmic beads with every thrust, splattering onto the floor below.

“That’s it,” he growled, eyes locked onto the mess you made.

“Fucking leaking for me already. You feel that, don’t you? How deep I am? How full you are?”

You sobbed, body strung tight with the effort to hold on. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the bathroom, a chorus of obscene pleasure that grew louder with each second.

And then—

“Touch yourself.”

You obeyed instantly, fingers finding your clit, slick and swollen, rubbing in desperate circles as his cock pounded into you from behind. The tension snapped fast and vicious.

Your orgasm hit like a tsunami—your cunt clenching, milking him, your body convulsing as milk squirted from your nipples in sharp, glistening spurts.

He groaned—loud, feral—and drove into you harder, faster.

“Fucking drown for me,” he spat, teeth clenched. “Cum again. Scream for me.”

And you did. Again.

And again.

Until your legs gave out.

Until your voice was raw.

Until your body was a trembling, soaked ruin.

He came deep—roaring, grinding against you, filling your womb with thick heat that overflowed almost instantly, trailing down your thighs, coating the inside of your legs.

You collapsed, body limp over the counter.

But he didn’t let you go.

His hands didn’t soften—not even after the orgasm shook through him and he emptied himself inside you.

He held your hips with the same iron grip, as if your body might slip away from him with the tide of his spent lust. But there was no escape, no retreat. Sea Spear Douluo was not done.

Your chest rose and fell in stuttered gasps, skin dewed with sweat and glistening milk, the porcelain counter sticky beneath your thighs, your knees threatening to give completely.

But he kept you standing. He pulled you back upright, one hand splayed across your abdomen, his cum already seeping out of your overstretched cunt and painting the inside of your thighs in thick, white trails.

And he watched.

Silent for a moment—just watching the ruin he’d made of you.

“Look at that,” he murmured, voice rougher now, edged with a possessiveness that made your breath hitch again.

“Leaking already. Still twitching. Still begging.”

His hand slid downward and his fingers traced the slick path of his cum as it slipped from you.

He caught a glob on two fingers and dragged them up, past your slit, over the hood of your clit. You whimpered. Your body jerked.

Too sensitive. Too raw.

He didn’t care.

“Fucking look at yourself.”

He turned you to face the mirror. Pressed you against it.

Your reflection stared back—barely recognizable. Hair tangled, mouth parted, breasts leaking milk in sticky streams down your stomach.

The insides of your thighs painted white. Lips kiss-bruised. Eyes wide and glassy. You looked claimed.

Because you were.

“This is mine,” he whispered against your neck, dragging his cock, still wet with your slick and his cum, across your backside.

“Every drop. Every breath. Every inch.”

You moaned, your knees trembling again as he pressed himself between your thighs.

You thought maybe this was the end—that maybe he’d collapse against you, breathe with you, hold you through the aftershocks.

But no.

He turned you again. Swept you off the floor like you weighed nothing and carried you—dripping, ruined, utterly undone—back to the floor. He lowered you slowly, laying you onto the warm tile.

“You thought I was finished?” he asked, crouching over you, the muscles in his arms taut, veins standing out along his forearms.

“No, sweetheart. Not even close.”

He kissed you then—not sweetly, not softly, but deeply. Tongue plunging past your lips, tasting your whimpers, tasting the desperation on your breath.

When he pulled back, his face hovered inches from yours, eyes locked with yours.

“Open. Wider.”

You obeyed.

He leaned back on his knees and stroked himself—slow and steady. The head of his cock shone with your slick and his seed, and he watched you, watched your mouth, watched your chest rise and fall as milk dripped down your sides.

“Look at this slutty little body,” he murmured.

“Dripping milk, dripping cum, aching for more. You’re made to be fucked. Made to be filled.”

You moaned, your lips parted in want, in need.

Then he pressed the head of his cock against your mouth.

“Now taste it. Taste what I filled you with.”

Your lips closed around him.

He groaned—deep and full, as your mouth wrapped around the head, tongue swirling, your eyes fluttering as you tasted the salt and heat of him, the remnants of your own juices clinging to the skin.

You sucked gently, letting him slide deeper, inch by inch, your throat relaxing around the weight of him.

He placed a hand behind your head, guiding you. Not forcing. Guiding.

“That’s it,” he breathed.

“Good girl. Fucking perfect. You’ll learn what it means to be bred, to be owned. You’ll feel this in your throat, in your womb, in your bones.”

Your fingers gripped his thighs, steadying yourself as he began to thrust—not fast, not rough, just deep.

Rhythmic. Intent. His cock fucked your mouth the same way it fucked your cunt—like it was home. Like it was meant to live there.

When he pulled out, a string of spit and seed connected your lips to his tip.

“Get on all fours,” he growled.

You did.

Still trembling. Still leaking. Still open.

He knelt behind you, spread your ass, and without warning, spit down between your cheeks. His fingers followed, smearing it, pressing against your tight, unused hole.

“You’re gonna take me everywhere,” he murmured, pressing his cock back into your soaking pussy just to tease. “But not yet.”

You looked back over your shoulder—mouth swollen, eyes glassy.

And you whispered the only words left.

“Please.”

His eyes gleamed.

“Good girl. Beg louder.”

dividers : @uzmacchiato @cafekitsune

[sensoqstore]

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[lefinohohohohon]

Priest Philippines (Emilio) X Reader

Priest Philippines (Emilio) X Reader

 Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya Emilio Jose Andres del Pilar (OCPH) belongs to admin HC/ Haima Cheir  Link: http://ask-emilz-de-philz.tumblr.com/ HC: http://apricusapothecary.tumblr.com/

This is dedicated to our handsome Kura Paroko Fr. John

(Father, I’m sorry but you are the inspiration for this hahahaha)

  [A/N: I’ve uploaded this before (forgot the year again) I just change something and I don’t know who to pair up with Emilio LoL, so it’s reader again....]

  P. S: I remember why I wrote this fic, Our old middle-aged head priest is being transferred to another place so, we had a new head priest! When I attended his first mass in our barangay during Christmas to New year season, everyone was gossiping how handsome our new ‘Kura Paroko’ is (and indeed, he was handsome). Back then, during the morning mass in Monday. He told us why he became a priest and said it was an accident, he just wanted to try but ended up enjoying his priesthood training. The oldies in my place  kept asking him about his lovelife before becoming a priest. Father was humorous during the interrogation of the old ladies even joking how he brought the issue of becoming a priest to his former lover. He just told her that there was a tennis court in the seminary and he could play for free so, he’d rather stay.(HAHAHAA)

=============================================================

 I stared at you as you walked down the altar head held up high, it stung to look at you but I wanted to engraved you in my mind memorize every parts of you even if my eyes were about to spill the tears for you, staining the dress I wore, I always thought that I would be  with you walking in front of God but apparently God had already set plans for you.

 It was already a mistake when my heart had started to beat when we first laid eyes on each other, it was wrong to look at you more than anything, and I held myself to control what ever feelings I have for you but faith seems to test us,

 the first time we had meet was a surprise to me, you were still young about the same age as me if not a year older and I thought you were just one of the devotees a young devotee who is also at the choir, would you believe that when we laid eyes on each other I began to believe at ‘love at first sight’ I know it's cliche but it was true! at that moment I felt I was pulled into the future with you on my side as we walked down the aisle hand and hand, I continued to fantasizes on you until  the voice of the head priest broke my thoughts

 “ah… (name!) buenos dias! teenagers today should learn from you to have faith in God!”

Father Antonio interrupted us that time. I wanted glare but I knew he means no harm and simply wanted to greet me, and thus I smile back to him, he patted your back as he introduce you to me and I couldn’t help but to let the smile reach my (e/color) eyes upon hearing your name,

 “(name), this is Emilio mi hijo” at the mention of father Antonio of you being his son shocked me, it showed into my face and thus you further explained with that melodic voice of yours

 “y-your son father..?! b-but y-you look almost at the same age! a-and isn’t it unaccepted to have a son when you're a priest?!”

 “I was abandoned on the church when I was a small child and he raised me like his own son”

 you told me your life as we got to know each other, every passing time and day, we grew closer and closer to each other and at one time you showed you had the same feelings for me,

 at one night, when the moon was full and the stars glowed shiner than the sun we shared a  kiss under the tree, a kiss that melted both our hearts away and told one of us our love was pure and only for one another, I couldn’t be happier that night and it was still the most happiest thing that ever happened to me when you said those three words I knew you were the one for me  … or so I thought, I was pretty sure you were my better half that God had sent and I couldn’t be happier, until I found out you are already tied to God

 you were willing to follow on your father’s footstep as a priest, the news crashed my feelings but I didn’t let it show to you masking it

 “I’m so happy Emilio”  that was a lie “I hope you will find happiness in serving God” that was also a lie, I wanted you to stop  I wanted you to say you were only joking like you always did when you wanted me to smile, I wanted you to say you’ll marry me! you promised me didn’t you? under the tree? have you forgotten? you couldn’t happen to forgot those as I looked up into your brown eyes, I knew you remembered yet you don’t want to remember and kept it a secret,

 ‘Why? wasn’t I worth enough for you?’ I asked that soundless question to you as our eyes look at each other, and the only answer you gave me was a shock of your head and I found the answer to it ‘I am a servant of God’ your eyes spoke, I continued to stare until I could no longer take it, after you had told me the devastating news, I could no longer held my tears and they  started to run down my face.

 years pass and you became a priest like your father, and I was still the same, still holding on to our lost memories, wondering from time to time if you still had feelings for me like I do to you but I think mine was more powerful than yours or rather you were good at hiding it? then the time came when you were the one to replace your father as the head priest of the town’s church it made me happy to at least see you every sunday that you had accomplish your dreams, happy at least we got to see each other and smile at one another.

 Every sunday mass got me excited, excited to see you, but it also scared me. I know what I feel for you is wrong but regardless I took my chances and watched you, every time you spoke it made me swoon, it made me feel guilty, ashamed  of myself but I am only a human who fell in love to God’s servant. Then another unforgettable thing happened to us, Christmas had arrived and the last mass for the day had ended with everyone rejoicing ignorant of our existence as they greet their families and friends, you pulled me into the confession booth with our bodies so close together in the tiny space, for the second time of our life we kissed, I had longed for you, and I knew as well as you, we continued to kiss passionately without regards to the public whether they found us out or not, but then you pulled away looking at me lovingly at the same time sadly, caressing my cheeks from your hands, you wiped away the tears I hadn’t felt fallen and slowly you kissed me again embracing me softly in your arms

 “mahal na mahal kita (name), I will always will” you whispered

 “I love you too, Emilio’ I sobbed, hearing you say those words again welled up my heart, but as soon as you make my heart beat again, as soon as you also crashed it

“I am sorry but please let's put an end to our relationship, I am a priest,”

“b-but y-you-we just kissed! I-I thought you loved me? didn’t you say just a while ago?”  I frantically pulled your robe and cloak, holding on to it as an assurance that you aren’t my hallucination but on second thought, I think I would prefer if this was all my hallucination after you spoke the words

 “ what I have done with you here is a sin I shall carry until I die, the punishment for crashing your heart over and over again”

 “then I am a sinner as well! I kissed you willingly in wanton, why is it I cannot love you? Is it wrong?!” then your hands silenced me carefully “(name)...” you lovingly said my name “it is never a sin to love but it is wrong for me to love you when I know I am a servant of God,you're not a sinner as I am the one who had dragged you, (name) please… forget about me”

 that was the last time we spoke after I had run out of the booth, and we never saw each other again… until today where everyone is smiling and congratulating me, flowers all around the church and everyone wearing white, the sound of the choir singing a lovely tune as I walked down the aisle to be wed with my soon to be husband (fav. Hetalia human name country).

 I guess faith really was testing us, as I found out that you and (fav. hetalia country) were best friends and he had requested you to be the one to marry us. We looked at each other once again and I could tell from your eyes, you had shut the memories of us out of your mind, you don’t know how you managed to kill my heart and yet I still love you, now on my wedding, with you as our priest I had vowed to shut my memories of you as well but, deep down inside I wish you were the one standing beside me now, holding my hand with a ring and the one kissing me. I looked at my husband’s eye then to you hoping that my prayer and wish will reach you

 “Forgive me father for I have sin, I still love you Father...Emilio”