#promises of the holy rosary

[myremnantarmy]

"𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥..."

[r0ugesun]

Guilty as sin

“What If the way you hold me is actually what’s holy?”

warnings — nsfw, religious imagery, Catholic guilt, finger fuck!ng, blowjob, misuse of the confessional, porn with plot, slow burn ooc(?) aemond

Pairings: Priest!Aemond x Reader

Synopsis: Father aemond, a devoted Catholic priest, is steadfast in his vows until a beautiful new parishioner, you, begins visiting his confessional regularly. Each visit is filled with whispered confessions of sin, making it increasingly difficult for him to keep his promise of celibacy and his composure and commitment to his faith. As your confessions become more personal, Father Aeomond finds himself battling intense feelings of desire and guilt, questioning his faith and the very vows that define his life. he grapples with his sacred duty and the forbidden attraction that threatens to consume him.

“Father hear my prayer, witness my devotion”

In the hushed stillness of the dawn, Father Aemond knelt beneath the towering crucifix, where the desolate visage of Christ hung suspended in eternal torture. His hands, gently held an emerald rosary, pressed together in fervent prayer, he whispered supplications into the fabric of the divine. The bright, golden glow of countless candles bathed the church in a holy luminescence, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows upon the stone walls. The smoke of frankincense and myrrh swirled through the air, mingling with the first few rays of light shining through the stained glass.

It’s been years since Father Aemond was sent away to the priesthood by his mother to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather, he didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to leave his home, but seeing his mothers furrowed brow desperate tears in her eyes at having lost his brother Aegon to Satans grasp, he hung his head low and allowed her to place her boundless hope and faith onto him he didn’t want to disappoint her, he didn’t want to see her pained expression of seeing another son following the same dark path.

He found succor in the Lord and he was content with placing all his sorrows onto him.

Meditation prayer and penance

that’s all he needed, nothing more nothing less, he’d place everything in gods hands and in turn the Lord provided.

“May your will be done through me your faithful servant, amen”

Father Aemond rose slowly from his knees, He brushed off his cassock, the fabric rustling softly in the quiet sanctuary.

With a deep breath, he moved towards the grand wooden doors at the entrance, his worn keys jingling softly in his hand. As he walked sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on him as he turned the heavy iron key in the lock, preparing to welcome the day's congregation.

Father Aemond stood at the front of the church, watching as the congregation filled the pews, familiar faces offering him warm smiles and nods, the small children hid behind their mothers skirts unnerved by his eyepatch and tall slender figure, he didn’t mind it too much, the congregations quiet murmures creating a gentle hum that echoed off the stone walls.

His eye swept over the crowd, offering silent prayers for each familiar face. Just as he was about to turn towards the altar and begin, the heavy wooden doors creaked open again, and a woman stepped inside. She was unlike anyone he had ever seen in his humble parish.

She was beautiful—sinfully beautiful. Her h/c hair was covered by a delicate red veil that cascaded down her back, and her eyes, there was a hint of sadness to them, they looked slightly tired and weary but it did nothing to blanket her beauty, she scanned the room before settling on him. She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her presence commanding attention without a word.

Father Aemond’s heart skipped a beat, a feeling of unease mingling with an inexplicable attraction. He watched as she took a seat near the back, her gaze never leaving him. Shaking off his discomfort, he reminded himself of his duty and the sanctity of his calling.

As the service began, he couldn't help but glance in her direction, the mystery of her appearance nagging at the edges of his thoughts. Who was she? Where did she come from? Why did she come?

He pushed those thoughts away and focused on the service.

Father Aemond sat in the dimly lit confessional booth. He had been here countless times, offering absolution to his parishioners, guiding them back to the path god wanted for them. Yet today, something was different.

The screen softly slid open, revealing the shadowy outline of a woman. You spoke soft and melodic.

“Bless me father for I have sinned”

Aemond’s heart quickened. He didn’t recognize the voice. It must belonged to the new parishioner, the beauty he had seen at Mass, your presence both a distraction and a source of deep unease for him.

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

“It’s been….years, Father,” you admit. “I have strayed far from gods light”

He could feel your gaze, even through the screen, and it unsettled him, he grasped his rosary tighter in his hand.

“Tell me what burdens your soul my child”

You hesitated, then began to speak of your sins

Your voice trembling with vulnerability.

“Father I-I have sinned greatly, I’ve left my husband and my home”

Aemond felt a pang of surprise.

“Why did you leave him?”

Your voice began to shake.

“For years, I endured his anger, his cruelty…. H-his indiscretion’s…. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to leave or I feared I would lose my sanity.”

Aemond’s heart ached for her.

“I found comfort in the arms of another man. I’ve committed adultery…. I gave my body to him… thought it would ease my pain and loneliness, it did temporarily but now I just feel more alone than I’ve ever had.”

Aemond’s breath caught. The vivid images her words conjured plucked at his own hidden desires. Flashes of your face contorted in pleasure, your thighs trembling under his hips…. He clenched his rosary even tighter, forcing himself to remain composed.

“Adultery is a grave sin,”

he said, his voice heavy.

“But God is slow to anger and quick to forgive. True repentance can lead to forgiveness.”

“I wanted to feel loved, Father,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I want to feel held, I cannot push away these desires and it scares me.”

He could hear the sob in your voice, the shame. And yet, the way you spoke, the unintentional seductiveness in your words, made it hard for him to think clearly.

“The important thing is to seek forgiveness and to resist these temptations.”

He said trying to keep his composure

“But what if I can’t?” You asked, your voice filled with despair.

“What if my desire is too strong? What if i seek…comfort again?”

Aemond’s pulse quickened.

“You must pray for the will to resist falling into your desires, true pleasure is in Gods light, you will never be alone in his arms”

Was he saying this to you or himself?? He didn’t know anymore.

“Thank you, Father. your words comforted me”

As you left the confessional, Aemond remained, his head bowed. He exhaled a shaky breath His heart was a storm of conflicting emotions—guilt, longing, and a desperate need for penance. He whispered a prayer, not only for you but for himself. For the strength to resist, for the grace to overcome his own lust, and for the will to remain steadfast in his vows.

He looked down at his hands, the rosary he was holding was now dripping blood from his hand.

Over the next few weeks Father Aemond found himself anticipating your presence more than he cared to admit. You continued to attend mass regularly, your beauty a fresh assault on his vows. Your confessional sessions grew longer and more personal, the line between priest and penitent eroding with every shared secret. Aemond knew he was endangering his sacred duty, still he found himself in your company once again.

In the church gardens, the air was perfumed by the rich scent of roses, you often walked together after your confessions. Your conversations ranged from mundane topics to the profound, each exchange drawing you both closer.

As you walked, the setting sun cast a warm glow over everything.

"You've become such an important part of my life," you admitted, your voice vulnerable . "I feel like I can tell you anything."

Father Aemond's heart pounded in his chest. "You know I'm here for you," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and something deeper. "Always."

You stopped walking and turned to face him, your eyes searching his. "But what about you, Aemond? Who do you talk to? Who listens to your confessions?"

He hesitated, the weight of his own unspoken feelings pressing down on him. "God always listens to my confessions, always." he replied.

You stepped closer, your hand reaching out to gently touch his his. "Yes but, even you should have someone listen and answer.”

Your touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he found himself unable to look away from her eyes. "I… God answers me in his own way y/n” but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

You sighed and caressed his hands with your thumb, adding insult to his already aching heart.

“What a beautiful rosary” you said not wanting to press further, something he was thankful for

“Thank you it was a gift from my mother” he said, you gently touched the emerald beads making his heart flutter.

He took in your form with his good eye, you were…. Divine, if we were made in gods image then you were surely carved from his best parts, he thought.

his lips parted slightly and he felt his cheeks flush and in that moment, he knew there was no turning back. The guilt and shame surged, but so did a deep, undeniable love. Father Aemond grit his teeth, he prayed,but this time, it was not for strength to resist you, but for forgiveness.

Father Aemond sat alone in the dimly lit confessional booth, the flickering candles casting long shadows on the walls. It was late, and the rain outside had started as a gentle patter but had now grown into a relentless downpour. The usual steady stream of parishioners had come and gone, leaving him to his thoughts.

He wasn’t expecting anyone else to come tonight. The storm would keep most people indoors, and he welcomed the quiet solitude to reflect and pray. But as he sat there, he heard the heavy church door creak open. He straightened, surprised that anyone would venture out in such weather.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the empty church, growing louder as they approached the confessional. The door to the adjoining booth opened and closed softly. Father Aemond held his breath, recognizing the familiar presence even before you spoke.

"Aemond, it’s me," your voice trembled

"Y/n you're drenched," he said, concern lacing his tone. "Why are you out in this storm?"

"I had to see you," you replied. "I couldn't wait."

He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. "What is it, my child?"

There was a long pause, thunder clapping loudly and the rain pounding against the church windows. Then, your voice came, barely above a whisper.

“Father Aemond I’ve sinned greatly”

you said voice cracking “my thoughts wander at mass….I’ve been having indecent thoughts….thoughts about a person who’s shown me kindness and I can’t stop these feelings”

you recall how father Aemond would lick his pointer and middle finger before turning a page of the Bible during his sermons, making you instinctively rub your thighs together in the pews.

“I-I’ve been….relieving myself while thinking of him…these desires are consuming me”

Father Aemond's heart raced, and he felt his cock beginning to twitch. He knew what he should say, tell you to resist these carnal desires but he didn’t, he couldn’t.

“Continue” he said trying to keep his voice from shaking.

You continued, your voice breaking. "I know it's wrong but…but I-i” you tried to stop the sob that escaped you, but the shame was too much.

“You what??” he said desperately.

“Father aemond I'm in love with you”

He could feel your desperation, your vulnerability. The rain outside seemed to echo his own inner turmoil, a tempest of feelings he could no longer suppress. He tore open the small wooden panel that separated you both, revealing your tear-streaked face and thin dress clinging to your skin.

You looked up at him shocked, before you could speak he pulled you up and kissed you harshly.

In that moment, all his vows, all his promises seemed to dissolve under the intensity of your kiss. Hungry wet kisses echoed in the booth until he pulled away from you, you stood facing each other, gasping for air the dim light casting a halo around your wet figure.

"I love you too," he admitted, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I've tried to fight it, but I can't."

He closed the distance between you again, and pulled your wet body flush against his, the warmth of his body against yours was a sensation he'd only dared to dream of. As he pressed his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss, he felt his cock harden, he lifted the skirt of your dress quickly and started fingering your wet folds.

“I wanted this for so long..” he said quietly.

“A-Aemond!” You cried out, this encouraged him to speed up, he rubbed fast circles around your clit, Causing your thighs to shake in pleasure.

Aemond captured your lips again, it was urgent and breathless, filled with all of the desires he tried so hard to resist. It was a surrender and a claiming all at once, he was unraveling, your melodic moans more beautiful than any hymn, the taste of rain on your skin felt like the holy water that sanctified this union.

He couldn’t take much more he needed to take you fully, he pulled his cock out from his breaches but before he would shove himself inside you he breathed out,

“Do you truly want this?….with me?”

You looked into his eye, there was so much love and desperation and you just wanted to be loved, you didn’t want to be alone anymore, even if it meant straying away from gods kingdom.

“I want this…with you and only you”

He didn’t waste anytime, he flipped you around and ripped your soaking wet dress from your body, you moaned in approval, you felt him lining his cock against your entrance, you held your breath in anticipation, shuddering when you felt his lithe hands grip your hips…. and then he was fucking you, in and out, in and out.

Both of your moans filled the air, intertwining and harmonizing like a choir, each note a blend of passion and desperation, the melody you made together resonated through the empty church.

The pleasure you felt when you felt the drag of his cock slamming in and out of you was what you could only describe as divine, you looked back behind your shoulder and moaned louder, he looked like an angel like this, you thought, his white hair clinging to the sweat on his forehead and his face held an almost pained expression like one of the saints in the stained glass windows.

He groaned “just like that, just like that take me in all the way”

He plunged himself deep inside you, relishing in the tight embrace of your pussy. With one hand, he lifted your leg, gripping your thigh as he fucked into you with increasing urgency. Your body, overwhelmed with ecstasy, couldn’t hold back any longer. You cried out his name in bliss, feeling the tension snap.

Finally, waves of pleasure crashed over you, your clit pulsing in delight as you let out a passionate moan. You writhed on his lap, riding the high of your climax, before slowly and shakily detaching yourself from his cock and sinking to your knees.

Aemond gazed down at you panting, his chest heaving with desire. He tenderly caressed your cheek with his thumb and brushed a strand of your hair from your flushed cheek, his touch loving and possessive. You were down on your hands and knees for him, not in prayer but in a fervent act of worship of a different kind, one he eagerly accepted.

You took his cock into your mouth, locking eyes with him intensely. A low groan escaped his lips as he couldn't resist gripping your hair, his desire palpable, he tried to stop his hips from bucking into your mouth but when you moaned around him he couldn’t help himself. You continued your ministrations bobbing your head up and down increasing your speed when his moans grew louder.

“Y-Y/n I’m close”

He gazed at you with fervent desire in his half lidded eye as you took him deeper, this made his cock twitch, igniting a fire within him. You looked so beautiful like this, you closed your eyes and moaned deeply, the sight was too much for him unable to contain himself any longer, he surrendered completely, he moaned out your name, pouring his hot cum into your eager mouth, which you gladly swallowed.

As both of you were panting, breaths mingling in the air, he gently pulled you into his lap, cradling you close against his chest. His touch was tender yet possessive, as he kissed your forehead softly, his hands caressing your back in a loving embrace.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice laced with concern, he held you close, your knees drawn up against him.

You lifted your head from his chest, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “I’m okay” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your hearts, He kissed your forehead in reply.

the storm outside seemed to grow louder, The windows rattled as though struck by an unseen hand, furious and unyielding.

Aemond pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, the enormity of what he had done crashing down upon him. The storm's fury seemed to intensify, the thunder rolling like the wrath of god himself.

He looked into your eyes, filled with love and fear, with the storm raging outside. He held you close, as if seeking solace in your presence, each flash of lightning a reminder of his failure to his sacred duties. The rain, once gentle and purifying, now felt like a torrent of divine tears, weeping for the sacred vow he had shattered.

“Forgive me, father” he pleaded in his head “For failing you, for failing y/n.”

You gently squeezed his hand, as if reading his thoughts. Neither of you could predict the future, but as the storm eased and sunlight broke through the clouds, he knew deep down that everything would be alright as long as you were together.

Thank you for reading I hope you liked it :> sorry if too ooc

[midnightblues444]

Lustful afflictions |

Priest nanami x brat! fem reader

Warnings: age gap (readers in her 20s and hes like 30 something), perversion of Christian faith, corruption, m receiving, sacrilege ,

Notes: fell off the face of the earth for 2 months now I'm back so enjoyy <3

Imagine driving priest nanami to temptation and making him lose his mind remembering it all during a prayer for forgiveness

"I confess to my sins of lust" he recounts, knelt in prayer

From the moment you walked into his cathedral he could sense trouble

"the source of my sinful affliction, that of a girl who wondered into my very own church"

You'd giggle in his sermons, and look at him with a sparkle that he couldn't quite place. Your words dripping off your tongue like melted candy, he can only recall how the sound of his name from your lips sent jolts of an unfamiliar feeling through him.

"A walking temptation she was.."

the way you're dresses were always so short and tight, there was disrespect that radiated from your very being yet it wasnt the biggest issue

He could see it when you listen to his sermons, not with intent but with amusement more so seductively studying him, often catching himself losing his focus if he made eye contact with you.

It was most apparent when you came up for communion, staring up at him with doe eyes as you ate the bread slowly, smirking when he couldnt keep the eye contact . Turning back ever so slightly with a giggle as you made way to your seat.

"I repent, I repent"

Hed prided himself on always being a man of honor and more importantly a man of god, hed thus expected the unholy thoughts to go away on their own.

Though he took a concious effort not fall into the temptation you dangled before him and keep composed.

"It was in this very confessional where the affair began"

To his suprise you came to confessional one afternoon. Skipping down toward the box, the apparent click of your heels hitting the tiles of the church floor made his heart pound in his chest.

"She spoke things I'd never heard before, she promised to help me in ways the lord couldnt"

"Lust is natural for all of us isnt it nanami"

He cleared his throat, at the sugary way you said his name

"Lustful thought" you'd sighed, "though I think we all struggle with lust, do we not?"

"I suppose so, but we thus practice abstinence" he replied

"I should've abstained..."

"But do we really need to abstain from what we truly desire" you said , trying to push your luck "I mean I see how you look at me father nanami"

"I am a holy man though how I acted was not a reflection of that"

He slid your side of the confessional door open staring down at you with a faint blush. The priest was undeniably a beautiful man, his defined face and toned body that peaked under his black attire but was noticeably when he fidgeted with his white collar.

"So what do I do about it?"

"Take a seat" you purred

"I wish to repent and continue a life in your light"

He was clutching a rosary while you were on your knees, the priests cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

He barely held it together, muttering forgive me lord under his stuttering breaths. He whined under your every touch, finding himself pleading for release, as the feeling of your throat was warm and unlike anything hed ever felt

begging for more, with his deep grunts as he thrusted unconsciously harder

"Forgive me I have sinned"

"Nggh" he breathed out, while you hummed and massage his balls, cumming down your throat with a deep whine

You wiped your mouth and stand, kissing his cheek sweetly. Straddling him with affection.

"You're not wearing panties" he said bewildered

"Didnt think I'd need em" you giggled as you slowly slid onto him. Both moaning out at the sensation. You began to move slowly adjusting to his girth, his head laid back as he breathlessly panted

"No no, look at me, look how good you make me feel" you said as you gently cupped his cheek

There is something so powerful about unraveling such a large man.

"So tight," he heaved tinted of blush across his face. You grind into your spot, moans filling up the small confessional space.

"Mmm so good, you're doing so good" you purred into his neck

"Forgive me because I find myself addicted to the feeling of her around me"

His thrusts grew sloppy, his grip on your hips stutter

"Forgive me because this addiction has costed me certainty in my faith"

He released into you for the second time, slumping into your plush chest, as you stroked his hair comfortingly.

"Amen"

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

I came across a dying woman in the woods. As I stood above her, she mistook the sun behind me for a halo, the blood dripping from my hands as holy water, the dirt soaked with her blood as hallowed ground.

“An angel” she cried “An angel”

As I dragged her across the ground through the trees, she told me she was not worthy of being touched by me, that each touch of my hands was a blessing. Cemetery dirt and ash clung under my fingernails. My skirts painted black with blood and viscera.

She promised me devotion and piety, prayers spilling over her lips like her blood spilling on my table, belief raging inside her just as strong as the infection. I sewed her wounds closed with bones needles and catgut, she saw each stitch as a rosary bead keeping track of her prayers.

[beenbaanbuun]

Hey Bunny! I hope you’re doing well <3 so I got this thing with that one interview Hongjoong and Mingi did during his Halazia hair phase.. he looked so damn good with the styling and outfit and the ROSARY 😫 I was wondering if you would be open to the idea of Priest!Mingi and assistant reader, Mingi degrading the reader when she confesses that she thinks of a certain someone in an unholy way. MEAAAN dom Mingi, punishing her for the way she looks at him during service and being told of such sinful things by his assistant. anyway! Thank you so much <3

warnings - priest!mingi, sex in church, oral (m!recieving), throat fucking, degredation, mean dom! mingi, oh god i’m going to hell…

so idk if any of you have seen fleabag but hot priest!mingi is not something i knew i needed until now.

like i’m just thinking about the whole confession scene where fleabag ends up on her knees in front of him, and whilst the hot priest has it in him to walk away, i just know mingi does not.

because for all his talk of being a holy man, this man knows deep down that he is nothing but a slut. perhaps he thought becoming a priest would cure him of his sexual cravings, but instead the abstinence just made it all worse. especially when you started working in his place of worship. such a pretty thing willing to do anything he asks for? you’re sent by the devil as a temptation, he’s sure of it.

the way you look at him during service only proves his theory. how you sit there with your lips agape, practically begging for him to shove something between them, and the way you clench your thighs whenever he speaks to the congregation; it all works against him, reverting him back to the depraved man he was before becoming holy.

so when the two of you end up in the confession booth one evening, he can’t help but hold his breath in anticipation. he prays to his god that he has the courage to power through whatever it is you’re going to tell him. he prays for the ability to control himself, and promises to make up for his sins in any way he can. for a moment, he thinks it’s enough, but then you start talking, and just your voice is enough the make his dick jump in his pants. that’s when he knows for certain you were sent by the devil.

“forgive me father for i have sinned,” you mutter, breath bated as you wait for him to respond. this is a bad idea, you tell yourself. getting horny every time mingi steps into a room is bad enough, but telling him about it feels so much dirtier. perhaps you should keep it a secret; take it to the grave. beg for forgiveness at st. peters gate.

“tell me your sins,” mingi responds, voice breathy. it’s enough to send your mind stumbling into that dark place again. you thought church to be a holy place, so why did you feel more at kin with the devil right now.

“i’ve been having… thoughts, father,” you begin, “sinful thoughts. thoughts i shouldn’t be having outside of wedlock.”

mingi sucks in a breath, tipping his head back until it hats the back of his side of the confession booth. the thud makes you jump in place, but no more so than the noise that follows. a low grunt that seems to echo through the booth. images of what he could be doing in there fill your brain, and you desperately try to shun them away.

“and who are you having these thoughts about?” you’re sure that behind his gravelly voice you can hear the sound of a zipper. you cant help but let your mind spiral even further as images of the man, sweaty with cock in hand, fill your brain. you struggle to hold in the whimper that crawls up your throat.

“you, father,” you whisper, feeling nothing but ashamed of your confession, “i have these thoughts about you.”

silence follows, eerie and daunting. you cant blame him for that; it must be a shock to find out his assistant has been thinking about doing unholy things with him. you can’t help but feel immeasurable guilt for thinking about him in that way, and perhaps you were right when you pondered just taking it to the grave. his silence doesn’t help soothe your concerns in the slightest.

but then the curtain before you is ripped open, and mingi stands before you looking like sin itself. his black shirt is wide open to reveal the smooth skin of his chest. his zipper - you knew you’d heard it - is open, making space for his hand to palm at his boxer-clad crotch. you swallow down your drool as you look into his eyes; dark and menacing as he stares into your soul.

“get on the floor,” he spits. you quickly shuffle off of the bench, dropping to your knees before him. you watch as his thumb circles the wet patch on his boxers, a guttural moan exiting his plush lips as he digs his thumb in slightly. it’s a sight to behold, the way he bites into his bottom lip and scrunches his face up in pleasure. you can’t look away.

“fucking slut,” he pants to himself as he hurries to push his trousers and boxers down past his hips. his dick bounces as it’s freed from its material cage, and upon seeing it you moan. long and hard and thick and everything you’ve ever dreamed of it being. you want to crawl forwards to take a closer look, but before you can, mingi takes a step forward.

his cock it eye level now, and you can’t help but study it. the perfect pink mushroom tip that drips pearlescent liquid from its slit. the silken skin that covers the shaft, glistening with sweat as the dim lights from the confessional booth shine down upon it. the thick vein that runs from his sack to the top, throbbing as it begs for your touch.

“father,” you whisper, looking up at his face with wide eyes.

“what is it, slut?” he spits down at you, “tell me what you want.”

you glance to his dick before looking up at him again. he chuckles darkly, “where has that slutty little tongue gone?” he taunts, “you seemed to have no problem telling me about your sinful thoughts a minute ago, yet now you can’t even tell me what you want? perhaps you’re dumber than i gave you credit for.”

you open your mouth to say something, but clamp it shut when you can’t find the words. mingi just tuts at you from where he stands, waiting impatiently for you to say something.

“please, father,” you feel your face heat up at you stumble over your words, “please may i touch you?”

he scoffs.

“touch me?” a hand grabs your chin, fingers digging into your cheeks in a way that makes your lips pucker. there’s bound to be red crescents on your face, left by his fingernails that show no mercy, digging in to the point where it makes you wince, “you think i’d let a whore like you touch me?”

you whine.

“pathetic,” he grunts as he lets you go. you can’t find the courage to move your hands to massage at your aching jaw. you let it hurt as he presses his fingers to your lips, forcing themselves into your mouth to pull down your bottom jaw. when it’s completely slack, he let’s go and steps closer yet again, “you’re going to pay for what you’ve done, little girl. just sit there and take it, and maybe if you please me, we can talk about your forgiveness.”

he waits to see if you’ll close your mouth, but you don’t. you want this.

and with that, he presses and hand to the back of your head and forces his dick into your mouth, pushing it forward until it hits a barrier at the back of your throat. you choke, but he doesn’t pull back. he just lets it sit there, effectively gagging you until there are tears pooling up in the corners of your eyes and drool threatening to cascade down your chin.

his face is stony as he stares you down, watching you struggle for air so prettily. he pulls back briefly, taking a little mercy on you before pushing back in just as hard as the first time. you barely have time to gasp for air before it’s ripped away from you once again.

he pushes in further, feeling your tight throat clench around his cock and he almost cums on the spot. so warm and wet and tight around him that he can’t help but cry out in pleasure as he pulls back once more.

you’re grateful as he lets you take in a few breaths before delving in once again, this time thrusting messily back and forth. you gag every time he hits your uvular, but it doesn’t seem to deter him. it only eggs him on, driving him to go harder and faster with every single thrust.

he’s close, he realises as he feels you try to swallow around him. your face is already a mess with spit and tears, but he can’t help but feel like you’ll look even prettier with his cum painting your face too.

he pulls out completely, thrusting into his fist a couple of times. the dam breaks quicker than he expected, and the white spurts of liquid that erupt from his tip fall perfectly on your face. you close your eyes just in time for some to land on your eyebrow, dripping down to mix with the tears that have yet to stop flowing.

“pretty little slut,” he hums once he’s finished cumming, and his cock begins to soften in his grasp. he chuckles, “go clean your face up, okay? you have five minutes before i come looking; i want a taste of that slutty little hole next.”

[femmeidiot]

I want to support a girl in prayer. She’s knelt down and leaning back into me. I’m listening to her repenting for her sinful thoughts, checking her honesty with my fingers as she gets wetter with each confession. When she has no more filthy thoughts left to say, she must start praying a rosary in penance. I hold her close to hear every word so I know she’s sincere. To fill her with the promise of forgiveness, I slide my big butch cock inside her. Her words start dissolving into moans— I take her hard and deep so she feels the weight of her sin and the power of being opened to grace. The prayers lose direction and she’s begging for my mercy and for me to deliver her. When she cries out for the Father, I answer with my hand on her throat and the length of my cock filling her up. At the last word of the last prayer, her penance is completely and she is allowed to come, shaking with the force of discipline and patience. Absolution is fleeting, but she can always repent.

(Had to type this twice cause tumblr ate it, sorry!)

I'm .................. holy shit ......................... my brain is so broken right now nbzjsjsjsjsjjsjsj fuck

[orshii]

Guilty Pleasure - Follow You (Part 2)

✟ Pairing: Choi San x female reader ✟ Word count: 6k ✟ Warnings: cursing, suggestive, mentions of death, blood

✟ Summary: You go back to your hometown for the summer vacation, not expecting the small town's priest to be a total eye candy. But he seems to be hiding dark secrets underneath his holy façade.

Will you find out the truth?

✟-First Part-✟

✟ A/N: Heeyy, so here is the long-awaited part 2 of this story. When I first wrote it I would've never thought it was going to head this way, but it happened and we finally know all the dark secrets of Priest San and why is he acting like this. Also, Yunho and Mingi appear in this story as well, and they are from @bvidzsoo's Who Am I fanfiction, it's happening in the same world but the mention of it is just slight. I find it funny and exciting to write in the same world lol, as in the future that is going to happen more often if she is in hehe. Anyways, read part 1 before reading this to understand everything. Tyy, byee! (Also I'm obsessed with this song again, and it matches the vibes of the story so I recommend listening to it)

         I was sitting on the church’s brown bench again as I watched the familiar face who was standing in front of the altar with the Bible in hand and a rosary strolling around his veiny hands the familiar cross hanging on his chest, as he was preaching for the people who came to the church on a bright Sunday morning.

People need to hear some reassuring thoughts about their God so they are going to feel less burdened about the sins they have committed. As if going to church will liberate them from the bad things they all did. Including me, that had the biggest sin anyone had in this church.

And that was—sleeping with the priest who was standing in the middle of the church, trying to motivate the people who came and prayed for their freedom. His sharp but innocent-looking eyes never met mine. Maybe he felt guilty about the sins we committed or he was pretending like I did not exist.

Two weeks went by since that night. And I barely saw Choi San, the priest of the town I grew up in, well he wasn’t a priest, he just pretended to be one, because he had some dark secrets that he did not share with me. After we slept together—some not-so-innocent images popped up in my mind, as he looked down at me, hovering over me, whispering some dirty thoughts into my ears that made me commit any sins that existed. The way his hands ran through my thighs up and down as he made me feel good with a burning desire in his eyes. That night I just cut all my sanity and gave in my guilty pleasure, and so did San—But after that night we did not speak. We had met a few times at the store or at the servings he held, but he pretended like nothing happened and it made me feel uneasy.

Why did he pretend like nothing happened? Was I just a one-night stand to satisfy his needs as it was rare for him to find someone who is in for a fuck with a priest? But in reality, he wasn't even a priest and I still did not know what he was doing here, and why he pretended to be one.

And as I watched him standing in front of the altar, the hall as quiet as the church's mouse, in his long black vestment his eyes observing the people sitting in front of him, I had enough of this game and I needed to talk with him.

When the mass ended, I waited until the church emptied, pretending to pray a little longer. I needed this moment, especially since my thoughts during the service had been less than innocent. Once everyone had left, I stood up and made my way to the vestry room where San always prepared for the mass.

As I entered the room, I saw San speaking with an old man. He was smiling, his dimples showing—a rare sight since he was always so serious with me. His hands rested on the old man's shoulders as he reassured him, promising to pray for the man's sick wife. It was kind of him, revealing a caring and warm side to his personality. But I knew it was all an act. He fooled these people with promises he couldn't keep because he wasn't the person they thought he was.

When the man finally turned, I smiled at him and bowed a little when he passed by me, leaving the two of us in the room. San just glared at me with his sharp eyes, his dimples disappearing the moment the old man left the room.

"Hi," I said as I walked further inside leaning against a table that was full of crosses and Bibles, on the walls there were a few glorious paintings and a closet in the corner of the room where the priest's vestments were hanging. I looked at San with crossed arms in front of my chest.

"Hey," he said, not even meeting my eyes as he turned his back to me. He began taking off the black vestment he was wearing, revealing an ironed white shirt and black pants underneath. 

"Why are you avoiding me?" I said as I stared at his wide shoulders where my nails drew blood a few weeks ago.

He folded his black vestment and put it into the closet. Then he turned around to face me as he leaned against the closet mirroring my position. His eyes scanned me up and down. "I'm being watched. I have to pretend everything is normal and fulfill my priest duties," he said in a low voice, his expression unreadable. 

I scoffed. "So, I do not deserve at least an explanation?" I lifted my hands questioning him. "You can't keep fooling these people, they really trust you San. Some people would give their life into your hands."

He pushed himself off the closet and slowly approached me with predator's eyes. "I know, I hate to do this, but I have to. I can explain everything. Let's meet at the cemetery tonight." He said as he stood in front of me, he hovered above me, making me feel small. His eyes, burning with intensity, stared into mine, lighting up even in the dimly lit room.

"A cemetery? Really?" My brows furrowed in disbelief.

"Yes, I want to show you something." He stepped closer to me, even though we barely had space between us, his hands squeezing my waist tightly.

"First you kidnap me to an abandoned mansion, and now you want to take me to a cemetery? Are you planning to hide my body in a used coffin?" I folded my arms in the narrow space between us.

He hummed, leaning close to my face, his lips brushing against mine. "I want to do other things with your body, and they're far from innocent," he whispered as his thin lips moved to my bare neck, leaving slight kisses along the way. My lips parted, my body growing hotter, and my heart pounded with uncontrollable desire. I gripped the table behind me, trying to pull away, but he held me in place, not letting me escape. 

His hands on my waist pulled me flush against his body, one of his hands traveling up to my jaw as he held it and pulled me closer to his parted lips. "You are my guilty pleasure." He whispered the words onto my lips as his thumb traced over the bottom of my lip. I couldn't control my body or my thoughts, so I just gave control to him. His familiar candy-like scent drove me crazy, making me lose my mind.

Then I felt his lips crush onto my lips, which immediately parted letting his tongue in as it discovered my mouth. This feeling was too familiar yet too strange. I felt like all of this was wrong, I didn't know anything about him, yet I was here kissing him like he was the love of my life.

His lips moved against mine, meanwhile, his hands discovered my body that was flushed against his, I wrapped my hands around his neck like it was in a script of a movie, all of this felt so natural but inhuman at the same time. While he was kissing me, his hands traveled down to the back of my tights just to lift me to the table, swiping the things off from the top so I could sit. He was standing in between my legs that I wrapped around his small waist. His hands brushed against the top of my thighs up to my back where his hands ended up in my hair as he ran his fingers through my dark strings.

The desire that lit my heart in that moment was endless, I felt like it could never burn out, but I couldn't let this go further. After all, we were still in a church… I slowly pulled away from him a string of saliva still connecting our lips from our passionate kiss as San captured my lips in a deep possessive kiss again, pulling me into a more rushed kiss, sucking my lower lip between his teeth, as my hands were on his pumped-up chest trying to push him away carefully.

He leaned his forehead against mine as we both breathed heavily. "I want you," He whispered in between quick breaths.

"We are in a church," I whispered back as my eyes met his, our eyes mirroring the same desire we felt for each other.

He nodded with a slight smile, as his lips met mine again, leaving a long peck on my warm lips. "I have to go, meet you at the cemetery at 8 p.m. darling." He left a kiss on the corner of my mouth and with that he left me there sitting on the table, the crosses and Bibles on the floor scattered, making me want to run away as quickly as possible from there, and I face-palmed myself mentally for being this high over heels for a man, who made me forget humans had sinned and that needed forgiveness.

I parked my car in the cemetery’s parking lot, the sun was slowly settling down, to hide behind the hills that hugged the town around. The weather was quite chilly, as it was already the end of summer, early autumn knocking on the door to let them in. This change of season meant I would soon have to return to where I lived and resume teaching the children who counted on me. I didn't want to let them down.  

When I stepped inside the cemetery goosebumps ran through my body. The sun was barely shining, leaving me in a quiet and dark cemetery that was swimming in mist. I heard some weird noises that I couldn't comprehend. Perhaps it was a bird nesting in the branches or a squirrel scurrying up and down the tree trunks. I stood frozen at the entrance, hesitant to venture deeper into the eerie yet noisy cemetery. There were a lot of gravestones and some flowers that were long withered.

Then I gathered all my courage and stepped deeper into the cemetery not knowing where should I wait for San. The cemetery slowly swallowed me as I went deeper, the graves forming a labyrinth around me.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps, but I couldn't tell which direction they came from. My heart was beating wildly, and I was frozen in place, my legs refusing to move. Then, I felt hands on my waist from behind, squeezing me. I jumped and let out a small scream.

"Holy shit San, don't do this again." I felt relieved as I turned around and saw his face where the curves of his lips were up his dimples on the sight.

"Sorry," He chuckled as he saw my terrified face. "You seemed lost in here, darling." His hands were still on my waist as he pulled me closer to him.

"Of course, it's not me who comes to the cemetery daily to bury random people." I squinted my eyes looking up at him and I noticed he was in casual clothes that was a black T-shirt, glued to his chest and broad shoulders, the familiar cross hanging on his pumped-up chest, the T-shirt paired with black sweatpants. He looked so comforting in normal clothes I wanted to hug him so badly.

He giggled, seeming genuinely happy—a rare sight to see him smile in a way that wasn't fake. His hands reached for mine, interlacing our fingers. "Come, I want to show you something," he said.

He began pulling me along by our interlaced hands, guiding me through the maze of graves and random sculptures of fallen angels that I didn’t quite understand. I realized there were many things about this small town that I didn't know, despite having grown up here.

Suddenly, San stopped, and I bumped into his broad back, feeling as if I had collided with an unbreakable wall. As I looked around, I saw we were standing in front of a grave that was unique—nothing like the others. It was crafted with care, adorned with fresh flowers in two vases on the ground, and featured graceful curves with winged decorations. I had never seen anything like it before. I turned to look at San, who stood next to me, gazing down at the grave with a look of deep grief.

"This is my grandmother's grave." He said with a low voice still holding my hand as I stood next to him. I nodded and caressed his shoulders signaling I was here next to him. "She raised me with my grandpa. My parents passed me to them when I was little. We have not heard about them since then." He sighed and sat down in front of his grandma's grave pulling up his legs to his chest and resting his elbows on his knees. I followed him and sat close to him and ran my hand up his back my fingers slowly combing through his raven-black hair. I wanted to be there with him, I wanted him to know I was by his side no matter what.

He was staring at his hands in front of him as he continued. "So, I was growing up here until I was eighteen, that was the time I left the town so I could study more."

"How come I don't remember you? I was growing up here, yet I never seen you." I asked with a frown.

His lips curved a little. "Well, I changed a lot. I was a weak and not-so-social little boy, maybe that is why." He tilted his head towards my direction to look at me with a slight smile. As I pouted trying to remember the boy he was describing. "If it helps you more, my grandfather was the priest before me." He smiled at me looking at my face, my eyes going wide at the realization.

"No way, you are the mysterious grandchild of Father John? Oh my God." I looked at him as I couldn't believe it. "Look at you, now being strong and independent." I squeezed his biceps as he chuckled. But then his expression turned serious.

"So, the thing is, I don't know where is my grandfather." His gaze went back to the grave in front of us.

"What? Isn't he retired?" I asked him a little confused.

"No, he had this year to complete, and he wanted to retire next year. I came to visit him, but he was nowhere to be found. I searched everywhere, but there was no trace. Then, one day, these guys came after me and mentioned a 200-year-old golden relic that my grandpa owned, worth millions. " He glanced at me briefly as he spoke. 

"Those were the guys who chased us?" I asked him, trying to stay calm, it was a lot of information to process, as I remembered the night someone was chasing us with a black car, that night led us to San’s mansion.

"Yes, it's a mafia gang. They call themselves The Boyz and their leader is Sunwoo. One day they cornered me and told me they captured my grandpa and they were going to kill him if I don't tell them, where is the cup." His voice was full of rage as I watched his sharp side profile as he gritted his teeth. "When you saw me negotiate with some guys the other day, it was another gang called Ateez, their leader is Kim Hongjoong and I turned to them to ask for help. But the only way they agreed was that I give them the cup to keep it safe because they were famous for collecting different kinds of relics, and I agreed because I couldn't save my grandpa alone… I gave them money to help me but they only told me they were going to come when needed. And since that, I never saw them. So, it was a waste of time and I don't know if my grandpa is still alive." He sighed weakly in frustration, the burning rage slowly fading out of his eyes.

I ran my finger through my hair trying to calm down and think straight. "Do you know where is the cup?"

"Yes," He looked at me his eyes full of sadness alongside revenge. "We are sitting on it."

I frowned at that, looking around in confusion. "Where?"

"It's in my grandma's coffin."

My jaw hung open as I looked at the grave in front of us. "So, what will you do?"

"I don't know, Y/N…" He ran his fingers through his hair stressed. "I don't know what to do, what is the right choice I'm all by myself—"

"Hey," I said, reaching out to gently pull his hands away from his hair. I moved in front of him so I could look directly into his eyes. "I'm here. You're not alone, San." Kneeling between his spread legs, I cupped his face in my hands. "We'll figure this out together, okay?" I gazed into his eyes as I rested my forehead against his. 

He nodded and enveloped me in his strong arms and legs while I remained kneeling, almost making me disappear in his embrace. "Thank you so much, Y/N." He whispered into my ears his voice going weak. The familiar scent of candy hugged me tight, giving me a comfort that I didn't even know I needed.

Then San pulled away as his hands cupped my face. "I want you to be by my side…I want to be with you, but I'm scared you might get hurt in the process. I have a difficult life, Y/N…especially now…I don't know if I can keep you safe." He whispered as his gaze never left mine, his eyes welling up with tears.

I traced my thump on his cheek, where a teardrop escaped his eyes and wiped it away. "I'm going to be okay, it's easier to fight together than alone, right?" My lips curved up a little, giving him comfort.

He smiled at me emotionally, as his finger reached towards my hair, brushing a string behind my ear. "You are so beautiful and perfect, my darling. I don't deserve you." His eyes beamed caring and unlimited love, which made my heart twist painfully, but that pain was good, it whispered good things for the future.

"You do deserve someone by your side. And I want to be that person." I whispered back, leaning close to his face. When his lips met mine, it felt like he was kissing me for the hundredth time, yet each kiss still felt like the very first. It wasn't rushed, it was careful and warm, we sealed our lips together as a promise to protect the other no matter what. Something in my heart started to grow and it felt right for the first time in my life. But then a voice interrupted our promise to each other. 

“Well, well—the love birds are hiding in the cemetery. How romantic,” a voice said from behind us. I glanced over San’s shoulder and saw five men standing there, their eyes fixed on us with a predatory gaze.

San immediately got up and hid me behind his broad shoulder, his arms out in a protective manner. He looked like he was the mountain that hid people from danger. "Sunwoo…what do you want?" Sunwoo—then he was the leader of The Boyz… they were after the cup and we were standing right above it.

"Wasn't I clear enough on that?" I peeked out from the safety of San's back and saw the man who was speaking, he had foxlike eyes and black hair, and all of them were wearing leather jackets with ripped jeans, making them disappear into the darkness of the cemetery. I could barely count how many of them were still hiding in the dark.

Suddenly I heard hustling from behind and I had no time to react, all I felt was a hand around my neck and that pulled me away from San, a sharp, cold thing replacing the strange hand. San turned towards me, looking at the man behind me with sharp, glaring eyes. "Let her go, she has nothing to do with this!" He shouted as he tried to attack the man who held a knife to my neck. From the sudden movement, the knife went deeper into my skin, as blood streamed down my neck like tears. But San had no chance as the leader caught him in no time and held a gun to the back of his head. "Don't try to act like a hero, or she'll die," Sunwoo mumbled into San's ear.

I couldn't process what was happening, my heart was pumping loudly in my ear, and I barely heard what was happening. My vision was on San the whole time, whose eyes were staring at me, trying to give me some strength that I needed at that moment. I breathed heavily, trying to calm myself down, but as I lifted my chest to breathe the sharp knife dug deeper into my skin, making me panic at the sudden pain.

"If you tell us, where the fuck is that cup, I'm going to tell you where is your old man and we won't kill this sweetheart." The leader nodded towards me with a perverted smile. I wanted to throw up from the pain and the faces they all made while looking at me.

I met San’s gaze again; he was signaling that he was about to make a move. In a sudden burst of action, he spun around, grabbed the gun that was pressed against his head and punched the man in front of him who fell to the ground. At the sudden movements, the man behind me lost the grip of the knife and I immediately kicked him in the balls and he hunched over immediately from the sudden pain. San ran towards me and held me by both sides of my shoulders. "You have to run, Y/N! Drive to the mansion and wait for me there, please!" He said hurriedly, as the other men were running towards us. Fuck, I had no chance there, but I did not want to leave him alone.

He saw my face as I hesitated a little, "I promise I'm going to find you, darling. Just go!" He begged me as the man behind him gripped his shoulder trying to hit him. I wanted to scream and shout at the men who attacked him, but I needed to run and get some help for him. San was fighting with the two men, punching them and trying to dodge their movements.

Then I got an idea, San had no chance against a bunch of people we were surrounded by, it was impossible, so I needed to distract a few of them. The ones behind my back were walking towards me because they knew I had no chance, but I quickly jumped over a grave and started to run so they were going to get far away from San. I needed to reach my car, but navigating through the graves was difficult in the dark; I could only make out vague shapes.

 I jumped over several gravestones and tried to be as quick as I could and try to distract them, hoping one of them was going to get lost in the dark mist, trying to move quickly and create enough confusion that maybe one of them would get lost in the darkness. Then I heard gunshots—lots of them. The sound made me stumble, and I fell to the ground, feeling a surge of fear and wanting to cry. "San," I whispered, still on the ground as the men behind me closed in. I couldn't let them catch me, for San, I needed to gather my strength and get help for him. So, I stood up with determination and started to run towards the exit. 

When I finally arrived at a trail that led me to the exit, I felt relieved as the adrenaline gave me a burst of power, making me run faster as I looked behind me. Three men were running after me, the fourth probably gave up on chasing me, or he did get lost in the labyrinth of the cemetery.

I ran through the exit and quickly sat in my car. I fired the engine, the lamps lit up and the three men were standing in front of my car, their faces like the devil's, smiling in success as they trapped me. But I was in a car, and I had the advantage of simply using it as a weapon. The engine of the car roared up as I hit the gas pedal and the car speeded towards them. Two of the men managed to jump out of the way, but the third wasn't as fortunate.

He leaped onto the hood of my car, trying to avoid the impact. He looked at me with killer eyes through the windshield as I was still speeding, but then I hit the break and he stumbled forward, hitting the ground with a loud thump. I hoped he wasn’t seriously injured—or worse.

I was frozen for a moment as I tried to think what to do, my breathing was loud and heavy, and blood pumped in my ears. Then I looked to my right and saw a baseball bat lying on the floor. I had kept it in the car for situations just like this. Why not use it? I couldn't just leave here San; I promised him we were going to fight together.

So, I grabbed the bat and opened the car door. The man I had hit was groaning on the ground, clearly in pain but still alive. The other two men were running towards me as I held up the baseball bat preparing to defend myself as they approached.

But then, I heard a loud engine sound and all I saw was a big, black jeep, hitting the two men that were running towards me. It all happened so quickly. The jeep stood in quiet for a moment, the front a little broken from the impact and smoke coming up from the engine.

Then someone opened the passenger door and a tall man got out of it, whom I barely saw in the dim lights of the parking lot. The other door opened as well, and another tall figure stepped out, both of them heading in my direction. I held up the baseball bat again because I did not know if I could trust these men.

"We are here to help." The one with the soft features raised his hands in the air.

"Who are you?" I asked them, gathering all the strength I had left.

"I'm Jeong Yunho, Kim Hongjoong sent me to help San." He is Song Mingi, we came to help." The tall boy came closer to me and reached his hands to shake hands, his features full of kindness.

"We don't have time for this, San is in the cemetery and we got attacked, he needs help." I started to panic as I did not hear anything after the gunshots.

"Mingi stay with her, she is injured, I'm going to find San! " Yunho said with a serious expression on his face as he was speaking to the other guy, whose expression was bored as he leaned against my car folding his arms. Then Yunho ran towards the entrance of the cemetery as the dark swallowed him.

I leaned against my car, waiting impatiently for Yunho and San to come, I tried to go after them a few times but Mingi stopped me all the time, saying 'Let them do their job'.

After half an hour that I spent worrying about San, their dark figure finally appeared from the cemetery as Yunho was holding San by the waist and San's hands were clinging around Yunho's neck. I hurried in front of them quickly, San seemed injured.

"San-ah, are you okay?" I cupped his face, which was a little beaten up, with a few cuts on his lips, and on his cheekbones.

"I'm okay, darling, I'm okay," he whispered as he released Yunho and pulled me into a protective embrace. When he gently pulled me away, his eyes roamed over me from head to toe, checking for any injuries. His gaze finally landed on my neck.

"Fuck, Y/N!" He traced the cut on my neck with great care, where the blood had already dried—I had already forgotten about my wound. "Does it hurt?" he asked softly. Leaning down, he placed a tender kiss on the wound, sending shivers through my body. 

I shook my head as a no. "It's not that deep."

He tilted his head up looking into my eyes with anger. "I'm glad I killed those motherfuckers." My heart started to race at that, it was a new side of him, that I did not see until now. It did scare me, but at the same time, I knew he had no other choice than to kill them. It was a choice between him and them, and clearly, the better option was for San to survive. 

"Okay you love each other we get it," Yunho clasped his hands together, making me remember they were also there. "But we should hurry if you want to save your old man, San."

"Where is he?" San asked turning towards the two tall men, both leaning against the car. San's eyes were full of determination.

"Right now, as our people told us, he is in a building that is going to explode in like…" Yunho looked at his watch on his wrist. "…10 minutes." He said casually.

"Then why are we even here, let's go!" San said, already forgetting he was injured, as we sat into the black jeep, the guys already gone that they hit.

As we made our way to the building, I cuddled up to San’s side. He caressed my back and ran his fingers through my hair, whispering how proud he was of me for standing up to the bad guys and staying by his side. Even if I had the choice, I wouldn't have it any other way. I knew I was meant to be with San, and I never wanted to leave him.

When we arrived at the building, which was about to explode, I stayed in the car despite my urge to join them. I figured it would be easier for them if I stayed behind. Nervously biting my nails, I watched the clock ticking down to the explosion—just 2 minutes remaining—and they were still nowhere to be seen.

I couldn’t stay still. I stepped out of the car and paced back and forth in front of it, my anxiety making it impossible to remain in one place. 

1 minute - nothing

30 seconds - nothing

I was on the verge of running into the building just before it was about to explode when I saw four figures run through the entrance the moment the building exploded. The moment the building erupted, a burst of orange filled the dark air pieces of the building everywhere in the air, which landed in a rain-like form on the ground with a loud thump as the explosion shook the ground.

I lost sight of the figures running as I held my arm out forming a shield. Bits of concrete and debris struck me, and some landed on the car. When the building caught on fire I looked around to search for them.

But I saw no one in between the burning pieces. I walked closer, as I spotted them between two big concrete pieces that fell from the building. As I ran to them, I saw that San held his grandfather on his lap, crying as Yunho and Mingi were kneeling beside them, Yunho's hands on San's shoulder trying to calm him down.

I speeded next to San my hands on his back, as I looked down at his grandfather. His abdomen was full of blood, his T-shirt long soaked with red, his chest unmoving, and his eyes were glassy, a single teardrop falling towards his temple as he was staring up at the sky full of stars, with no reaction in his eyes. He left us.

"I couldn't save him," San's voice came out and stumbled as he was sobbing, holding his grandfather's dead body. His grandfather raised him and made his grandchild the most caring and passionate human on earth. He fulfilled his job and it was time for him to leave us behind.

I hugged San as he was sobbing into my neck, still careful not to hurt the wound on my neck. I whispered to him some reassuring thoughts that slowly calmed him down. Yunho and Mingi waited for us patiently to calm down so we could talk about the cup that was the cause of this turmoil that ended with the death of San's grandfather.

 It is interesting to think about how humans are capable of anything just because of a two-hundred-year-old relic that was worth millions—even billions. They do not realize the value of a human's soul; it is higher than the paper that is worth—perhaps millions.

A human's soul is worth the universe which has more value than a piece of paper. But people are greedy and they do not care if someone gets lost along the way. They only see the gold and money, that keeps them going, not caring about burning the world along the way.

This is why San decided to entrust the cup to Yunho, whom he trusted deeply. San knew Yunho was a man of his word, reliable, and always present when help was needed. As we handed the cup over to them just before they left, Yunho's final words were:

"Welcome to Ateez."

With that, they drove away with the cup, leaving behind a trail of trouble but also opening the door to a mysterious future with the gang Ateez. 

-1 month later-

"That's all," San said as he closed the rear door of the car, clasping his hands together as we were in front of his mansion, I needed to go back because the summer vacation ended.

"Are you sure you want to come with me?" I asked still unsure of why would he come with me back to where I was living.

He stepped closer to me as he grabbed my waist, one of his right hands cupping my cheek as his thumb traced it with care. "I have nothing left here." He whispered resting his forehead against mine. "I'm going to follow you, wherever you go."

"Promise me you'll never leave my side," I whispered, overwhelmed by the surge of emotions that suddenly hit me.

"I promise, darling." He whispered looking into my eyes. "I love you," He cupped my face, his eyes full of sincerity and passion that burned with flaming desire.

I held his wrist that held my face as I left a feather-like kiss on his wrist. "I love you too, San" I smiled at him with all the warmth in my heart, gazing at him as if he was my entire world—and it wasn’t a lie. He truly was my world, and I was committed to following him wherever he went. From the moment I saw him, I knew we were destined for each other. 

Then he kissed me carefully his lips moving against mine in a possessive way, like he wanted to ensure I was his forever, his hands pulling me closer to him, locking me in, as if I wanted to run away from him, but that was the last thing I wanted to do. I kissed him back reassuring him I was never going to leave him.

Our story had only just begun, and I was eager to discover what destiny had in store for us. The red strings bound us together to connect us so we could fight the obstacles that life would throw our way. It was easier to fight against the bad things when you had someone by your side.

Choi San had me, and I had Choi San—together, we were ready for whatever came next. 

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Fall From Grace

pairing: ???!Joshua x angel!fem!reader

genre: minor fluff, smut, supernatural!AU

warnings: religious imagery, hierophilia, corruption kink, dacryphilia, use of the petname angel, degradation, creampie, manhandling, reader is a virgin

word count: ~1.6k

summary: Priests are said to be the preachers of God’s word, keeping their lambs to the path of light. But a certain priest is able to make even the messenger of God fall from grace.

The residents of the small town are leaving the church one by one, most of them exchanging wishes for the holidays, some of them lighting a last candle before exiting...and some of them sharing the gratitude to the young priest.

“Our town is so blessed to have you, Father Joshua”, the mayor gives him a heartful handshake. “Please, Sir, you can call me Joshua, I’m not even that old”, the priest lets out a laugh. “He’s right, Dad! Can’t you see that you’re making him uncomfortable?”, the mayor’s daughter chimes in, “Besides, he’s probably around my age, he could be your son”, she adds, batting her eyelashes towards Joshua, hoping the man would give her the attention she desires carnally.

“Sweetheart, please behave”, the old man reprimands the lady with a cough. “So, Fath- Joshua, would you like to join us for dinner tonight? We would love it if we could have you in our company on this holy night”, the mayor’s wife asks, hoping to receive a positive answer.

“I am honored by this invitation, but I must kindly decline, Ma’am”, Joshua flashes an apologetic smile, “Perhaps some other time”. “Oh, well, that is quite unfortunate”, the kind old lady frowns lightly, “But we will not pressure you anymore, dear child”. 

“I very much appreciate this. Merry Christmas and enjoy your dinner”, he grins happily and the couple walks away, the daughter staying behind.

“It’s such a pity you won’t be able to come tonight, Father”, the girl pouts her lips, “I could have shown you some local hospitality”, she runs her hand over his chest, eyes trailing down between his legs. “I am sure you would, little lamb”, Joshua’s eyes darken, the corner of his mouth curling upwards in a smirk, “Just like those times you come here to confess“, he slurs the word, his hand smoothly running between her legs, ghosting her covered crotch, a low whimper falling from her lips.

“Your parents are waiting for you, little lamb. Don’t make them wait too long”, he chuckles and the girl leaves, biting her bottom lip at the unspoken, dirty promise.

Within a few moments, the church becomes deserted, only the burning candles lighting up the majestic house of God. Joshua settles the Bible on the altar, cradling the rosary in his hands, whispering a final prayer to the heavens.

“You must be a complete fool to dare speak to His Holiness, after commiting such sins, human”.

Joshua turns around and feels like his eyes are about to burn from the light of your pearly white feathers and the silken white robes adorning your body. He feels like bowing down to your majestic power.

“To what I owe the honor of witnessing a messenger of the God himself?”, he kneels on the wine colored carpet, his pitch black robes pooling around him. 

“You have no right to soil the name of our kind by letting it fall from your lips, sinner”, you sternly reprimand him, “How dare you use His word to lead innocent people astray with your-”, “Actions?”, he raises his eyebrow, lips quivering in a smile.

“You are a disgrace, Joshua. You should be judged and punished for the sins you’ve committed”, “Sins? I have committed no sin”, Joshua gets up, taking step after step closer to you, your wings fluttering defensively. 

“Tell me, o angel of God, why am I the one being judged for my actions, instead of the people coming to me, asking-”, “Stop”, “No, begging to fulfill the sole acts that make the human nature whole”, he boldly defends himself.

“Silence!”, you shout at him, “You are...so vile and-”, “Tempting?”, he cuts you off, standing right in front of you. He’s much taller than you thought - and much more attractive than you wish to admit.

“Ever since I was a child, I was always fascinated by angels”, his hand comes up to touch your wings, a sharp gasp echoing in the church as you feel the pads of his fingers on your pristine wings. “Such holy and pure creatures, a manifestation of the God’s words”, his gravelly voice slowly turning into whispers, “Utterly unable to feel malice or become tainted....Or so it is, until they descend upon Earth”.

You grab his wrist and with a flutter of your wings, you push him flat against the altar, making him gasp out loud. “You have no right to say such things”, you grit your teeth, “Thinking you can walk around in the house of God and defile it with your...”, “What is it that you want to say, angel? That innocent girls come and offer themselves to me? Confess their sins to me, only to make them sin even more?”, Joshua smirks in your face, a smirk similar to that of the devil.

“Tell me, o angel...How does it feel to witness a lady like you letting herself getting consumed by her carnal desire, exposing herself to the lust the human nature can offer?”, he whispers in your ear, his hand caressing the junction of your wings, making you shiver. He takes advantage of your momentary weakness and turn the two of you around, pinning you on the altar.

“Doesn’t it make you curious?”, his breath tickles your neck. “N-No”, you lie through your teeth. Yes, you were curious and jealous. Two sins committed at once, within the house of God. “Liar”, Joshua lets out a breathy chuckle and slams his mouth on yours, his tongue invading your mouth, hungrily licking your tongue.

Your surprised, weak whimpers make his chest swell with pride, knowing he’s so close to make you fall from grace. He doesn’t waste time to thread a hand on your robe and rip the silk from your legs, leaving your lower half exposed to him.

“How unfair of God to create such divine beauty and cage it within the Heavens”, Joshua runs his hands over your bare thighs, making you shiver at the contact. You could feel something different about him, something....sinful and sinister, something that should be burning you alive.

“You figured it out, didn’t you?”, he chuckles, ripping his priest robes apart, running a hand through his tousled black hair, a pair of blood red horns protruding from his soft locks, eyes changing from honey brown to a crimson red, revealing his true form.

“You’re...an incubus”, you say breathlessly, “But..how?”, “It was utterly painful to recite the words of your God”, Joshua groans as he takes out his cock, slapping it on your core, making you moan at the contact, your hand trying to cover your mouth from embarrassment, but he’s faster and pins your hands above your head, rending you immobile.

“But, damn, it was so worth it in the end”.

He guides his fat tip through your folds, each rub on your pussy making you drip on the altar - and his cock. 

“That’s it, my pretty angel, give yourself to me, like you were meant to”, he licks your lips, pushing himself in your tight heat, a loud sob bouncing off the marbles of the church, as you feel him set you on fire, ripping you in half in the most delicious way possible.

“H-Haahh, ahh”, you gasp, wings rustling on the cold surface, white feathers falling down on the ground, a few tears running down your cheeks. “Look at you, offering yourself to the child of Lucifer, letting him ravage your purity and claim you”, Joshua mocks you as he thrusts in you powefully, his thick cock dragging against your velvety walls. 

He leans down to lick your tears away, moaning at the divine taste. “I had heard about the tears of a virgin tasting like nectar, but angel tears are definitely something else”, he places kisses on your neck, dragging his tongue over your skin. “You’re so hideous”, you whine, legs twitching with every move of his hips.

“Hideous? And what would that make you, dear?”, Joshua asks with an amused smile, his red irises burning in yours, waiting for your answer.

“Y-Yours”, “Hm?”, “I said I’m yours!”, you scream on top of your lungs, “It should have been me instead of that girl!”, you admit between tears. a wicked grin making its way on his lips. “Thought you’d never say it, pretty”, he licks his lips and lets your hands go, gripping your wings under your back for leverage and doubles his pace, viciously ramming his cock in your cunt, chasing his high.

“J-Joshua, i-it’s too- good! D-Don’t stop!”, you moan, the burning sensation rapidly spreading on your lower stomach, as if a rope is about to snap. 

And that rope snaps. Hard. 

Your eyes roll in the back of your head and it’s enough to make Joshua explode inside you, his cock flooding your pussy with his cum, overflowing it and coating your walls with it. He lets out the most sinful moan, the surge of energy coursing through his veins.

He pulls out of you slowly and watches you falling limp on the altar, a satisfied expression on his face as you let out soft yet depraved moans, your wings starting to turn into an ashen gray, your torn robe hiding almost nothing of your body, legs wide spread and his seed freely flowing from your used core, staining the praying site of the one you used to call God.

“So this... is how an angel falls from grace”.

[dvchvnde]

excerpt. Father John Price x the hapless anti-Catholic he plans on wife-ing in the name of the lord.

bad touch with a rosary. distorting bible passages to snag himself a wife. blood of the sacrament. warrior of god John Price. Bastardized religious imagery. catholic corruption. catholic: guilt trauma horror despair

“You're wrong,” you're saying, but it's behind glass. Stuck inside of a snow globe. There's cotton in your ears. Your conviction is shaky. “You can't just do this—”

He seems to consider the weight of your words, pressing them flat between his teeth. Testing their hardiness. Their resilience. 

Then: Price bites down. They crack. Shatter. 

“I can,” is his decisive reply, entrenched so deeply in his own hubris it sounds like a full sermon in two syllables. “Because this is the will of God—”

He trails the beads of the rosary up your thigh. His knuckles are blanched white. Palm clenched so tightly around the metal cross that it digs into his skin, making him bleed. 

Something wet, molten, falls on your skin. You try not to shiver. The beads drag his blood along your flesh. A stain. A smear.

He sees it and hums. “the Spirit, the water, and the blood; and the three agree as one.”

You scoff to hide the tremor under your skin, and rake your nails across the thin membrane of your memories, your loose knowledge of the bible and its apocryphal stories until they are torn, shredded. It's there, in the harsh press of your desperation, the words he once rasped in the quiet of an endlessly black night, broken and shattered beyond repair, brim. 

Vindictively, you grab at them with broken fingers. 

“But God said to me, 'You shall not build a house for my name, because you are a man of war, and have shed blood.”

Price doesn't still in the way most might when having their own, broken vulnerability thrown into their face. Hot oil to fragile flesh. 

He has too much pyretic energy inside of him for that. 

But he does slow. 

The hand crawling up your thigh becomes rigid. Glacial. The same frigid bergschrund in his stormy eyes. For a moment, brief and fleeting but so terrifyingly tangible, you think he might just strangle you. His hands twitch. The Rosary beads clang together.

He doesn't. Price's eyes flutter shut. He takes a deep, shuddering breath through his nose, nostrils flaring. 

And then—

Peace. Calmness. Docile waters. 

When he opens them again, you see the eerie glow of a predator lurking below the surface. 

When he speaks, you know it's over. 

“Praise be to the lord, my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle.” And if only for your benefit, he leans in close, lips brushing your cheek, and growls: “Blessed is your discretion, and blessed are you, that have kept me this day from bloodguiltiness, and from avenging myself with my own hand.”

It's a promise. A warning. A threat. 

The perfect panoply of this strange egotheism that gives him the right to shepherd you into a disciple. His saviour-god complex when he looks at you bleeds through. Unquenchable, and burning with the fever of obsession.

He will save you. This is absolute. 

But his version of salvation is having you beneath him, worshipping the human flesh he proffers like a gift for you to kiss. 

Consumption, you think, suddenly. Ravenous desire. He wants to feast on your sins until they fill his barren stomach, turning the weight of their perceived evil into permanent scripture, holy and good, on his flesh. Until you're devoured whole, and regurgitated into his most devoted idolater. 

You fight a shiver when the beads drop into the valley of your legs, squeezing them tight when they pool in the basin where your thigh meets cloth-covered mons. 

Above you, he rumbles. “There’s a simplicity to war. Attacking is the only secret. Dare—and the world yields. How quickly they forget that all it takes to change the course of history is the will of a single man. I fought hard to make a difference and realised one thing: the only truth I found is that the world we live in is a giant tinderbox. All it takes is someone to light the match.”

You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but considering the nature of his bastardised soliloquy, you can only guess. That night, when he revealed the nature of his sudden piousness following a life chasing wars in countries unknown to you. Places buried in smoke.

Found god in those trenches, he said. 

And you wondered what sort of god would set foot in a place like that. 

“Spent a long time in war. A lifetime.”

His hand drops, bloodied fingers pressing against the seam where his Rosary beads rest. 

When he looks at you, you find madness coloured blue. 

“But dove?” He rasps, swallows down a groan when your thighs tremble under his heavy hand. He looks at you with a renewed vigour. A purpose. “My war ends with you.” 

[solitablvd]

The Blood Moon

**Minors DNI**

Pairing: Vampire!Javier Escuella x Vampire Slayer!Reader

Summary: With the blood moon's crimson glow tapestrying over the night, you, an experienced vampire slayer on the hunt, find exactly who you're looking for.

Warnings: Human/Vampire Relationship, vampire smut, vampire bites, unprotected p in v, v fingering, marking, blood sucking/drinking, partial mind control, making out, nsfw

Word Count: 3.6k AO3 Link

The wooden porch let out a creak under the heel of your leather boot as you shifted to lean against the railing. The scene before you was a grim, but unfortunately familiar one. Wooden casket, red roses, and tears. You had been in the game so long you had become numb to these situations now.

“For all people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever, just as the memory of dear Grace. Blessed be the life of Grace Barlow, who now lives in eternal peace. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.” The priest gives a final sign of the cross to the crowd before him. You allowed your fingers to move from your head to your chest, then shoulder to shoulder before bringing the rosary that laid upon your chest up to your lips for a final kiss in unison with the crowd.

As the service finished, you made your way down the porch steps as those who were once sitting in rows began to file into the grieving family’s home to await the burial. Walking down the short aisle, you nodded to the priest as he passed you by.

Taking a deep breath, you approached Grace’s husband, Peter. He stood above his deceased wife, staring down at her with eyes red from everlasting tears. As the spurs on your boots clinked, he glanced briefly behind him at you before shifting his attention back to his wife. “You made it.”

You nodded, joining beside him, “Apologies for missing the first half of the service Mr. Barlow. A farmer just North of here said he saw a mysterious male figure near his barn last night. Then found one of his goats with the blood completely drained from it in the early morning. Had to bring in a priest to bless the place, but anyway— I think it might be who you’re looking for.”

Before he could respond you looked down at Grace before you. Her face, though flushed from all its color, looked peaceful. She wore a long, lavender dress, with a matching ascot that was no doubt placed to cover the scar she received from her assailant.

“May I?” You asked Peter. He nodded somberly, placing a gentle hand on Grace’s ascot and pulling it down slightly to reveal her neck. As you suspected, the scarred fang marks were still visible on her pale skin. Her skin was ice cold, but you had touched enough deceased bodies to remain indifferent. You brushed your fingers over the scar.

The bite of a vampire.

“I didn’t get a good look at it.” Peter began, “It was late. I–I told Grace not to go out so late, but she—” His voice shook. “She went anyway, almost as if she was bewitched by that—”

“I understand.” You nodded earnestly. “Not to worry though, if the same one was lurking just North of here, he can’t be too far.” You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take care of it.”

Peter took Grace’s hand once more before muttering, “You better. I am paying you after all.” He placed a final delicate kiss on her skin before closing the wooden casket altogether.

With the shut of the casket you gave a solemn goodbye before turning away, making your way through the family’s home. The sorrowful faces that gathered had no effect on you. They had once upon a time, but that was long ago. When you first began vampire slaying, every case felt personal. You made promises to grieving masses that you couldn’t always keep. Over time you had learned how to steel yourself against the pain of others. You were given your task and you executed these tasks with nothing less than precision and duty. Leaving the residence, you lifted yourself onto your horse and made your way Northbound.

On your journey, you stopped by the local gunsmith in the town of Valentine to ensure you had the right supplies for the night’s hunt. Hunting a vampire would take more than prayers or garlic as many often believe. You hitched your horse, gave her a sweet pat and entered the gunsmith to a familiar face.

“Ah, the vampire slayer.” The shopkeep, Ralph, smiled knowingly, “You haven’t been here in a while. The usual I suppose?” You answered his question affirmingly. He went to the locked wooden box on the wall to grab your ammunition.

“I’ve been out in the plains near Blackwater.” You explained, “I caught word of a woman who was left for dead just outside the perimeter of her home just South of here. Had two holes in her neck. Widower offered to pay me a sizable amount for the bastard’s head.”

Ralph placed a box of pure silver bullets in front of you. “Well, this should do the trick alright.” You picked up one of the bullets to examine it while Ralph continued. “Take the whole box, you might need it; heard it’s a blood moon tonight.”

Your mind began to race as you replaced the lead bullets in your revolver for the silver ones. A blood moon meant the perfect night for hunting a vampire, but for all the wrong reasons. Any vampire out on a blood moon would no doubt be looking for a body to feast on which meant the hunt shouldn’t take much time. The energy of the blood moon however, would also amplify their power. With this in mind, you placed your revolver back into your holster and kept the box of the gleaming bullets.

You began your journey on horseback, heading further North into the West Grizzlies where you suspected the vampire would continue heading, based on where he was last seen. You crossed over the Dakota River and ventured into the increasing vision of trees.

You slowed your horse down to a trot as you spotted tracks of drying blood on the dirt ground, shining in the golden glow of the sunset. The sunsetting meant your time would soon become limited. You hopped off your horse to follow the tracks on foot. You kept one hand on your holster, ready to draw at any given moment before coming across the source of the blood.

The trail of blood led to a large rock, where behind it laid a lifeless doe. The doe appeared gaunt and discolored. This was no work of any ordinary predator. The two holes on the animal’s neck only proved your theory. You brushed your fingers along the two apertures, the blood was still tacky. He couldn’t be too far.

You continued on the trail, slowing your horse to a stop once the sun had finally set. You took out the sharp knife in your holster, holding the edge of the blade to your palm before taking a gasping breath and slicing into yourself.

“Fuck,” You whispered with a wince at the familiar pain. The cut was not deep, but enough to draw a bit of your crimson blood for your next step. You grabbed a white linen handkerchief out of your satchel and first wiped it along your neck to catch your scent. You then used the fabric to wipe the trickling blood off your palm. Once the fabric had been smeared with enough blood you tossed it to the ground below you: the perfect bait.

You strayed from the trail to head into the line of trees to set up a camp for the night, allowing whatever blood was left on your palm to trickle onto the ground below. The light of the moon had already begun to shine, appearing darker than any traditional night. Soon the light would shine red with the blood moon.

You stoked your fire, wanting the smoke to attract your unwanted, yet desired visitor, and rinsed the dried blood from your palm with water from the nearby stream.

The howling of the night’s wind grew as the time passed, the moon becoming a copper version of its original self. You remained seated alongside your campfire, staring at the dancing flames and leaping embers. Your vigilance persisted as the moon grew more and more red through the night, until it was eventually so vivid that it reminded you exactly why it was called a blood moon. The moonlight shone on your makeshift campsite, but was not exactly the inviting kind. The stream nearby now looked like a stream of blood flowing in the shape of veins. The ground before you that was once brown now appeared a wine-red hue.

The nearby rustling of leaves caused you to snap your attention to the line of trees ahead of you. You attempted to spot any figure of some sort, but before you could there was another rustle of leaves behind you. You quickly whirled to face where the noise came from. He was circling you like a predator stalking its prey.

You gulped, but kept a brave face as the snapping of a twig whipped your attention behind you once more. This time you stood quickly, facing the line of trees. In an instant, the creature appeared standing before you.

The vampire was far more elegant than you were used to. Clad in black jeans and a white button-up shirt, saturated in the moon's glow, he wore a long black duster embellished with gleaming golden buttons. His hair was meticulously tied back, effortlessly framing his regal features. His eyes were dark, with a glint of red that you briefly wondered was from the shine of the moon.

“I believe you dropped this, miss.” He spoke, his words coming out like silk as he presented the white handkerchief soiled in your blood. He flashed a smile and even in the scarlet-tinted night you could see the knifelike edges of his fangs.

A beat passed as you contemplated your options. Shooting wasn’t one, at least not yet; he’d easily evade any bullet with the speed he’s displayed, perhaps it would even make him more combative. Your revolver remained in the holster hanging off your hips as you made your next move.

“Oh— it must’ve fallen on my ride.” You spoke innocently, maintaining distance between the two of you.

“Perhaps,” He shrugged nonchalantly, keeping his gaze steady as he looked you up and down.

“Perhaps not.” He allowed the handkerchief to slip from his fingers onto the scarlet floor as he sauntered slowly towards you, “A chance encounter with a vampire sl—”

Those words were your signal to quickly draw your weapon, the metal barrel now aimed directly as his chest.

He stopped in his place, raising his hands in surrender with a smoky chuckle. “Let me finish.”

Instead, you cocked the hammer of the revolver, raising another chuckle from the man, “Ay, no, no. Amada, you don’t want to do that,” His playful, yet alluring demeanor continued. His words were laced with an enticing charm that you were trying to ignore.

As he looked down the barrel of your weapon, you met his gaze once more. His eyes bore into you with what you could only describe as an insatiable desire. The glint of red in his eyes intensified as he spoke smoothly, “You’re not going to pull that trigger.”

You felt your hand stiffen involuntarily against the cold metal. You gasped lightly with realization— he was manipulating your mind. His entrancing words began to echo in your mind. Your finger shook against the trigger as you attempted to resist his unearthly enchantment. This supernatural compulsion was one you had only ever heard of, but never encountered.

You widened eyes only seemed to elicit another smile from the vampire, his tongue quickly brushing over the edge of one of his fangs, “What? Never seen it before? My little trick is… quite something, isn’t it?”

He kept his eyes connected with yours as he made his way beside you. You felt frozen in place, your weapon now pointed at the dark line of trees. He stopped when he was at your elbow, not close enough to touch you, but the pull of his nearby presence was beginning to feel intoxicating.

“Drop it,” He whispered. You felt the words continue to echo in your mind as the weapon slipped right through your hand, dropping onto the floor. His gaze felt magnetic. You couldn’t look away, but you knew this had to be the source of this supernatural compulsion.

As your hands fell to your side, he stepped in front of you. You felt your roles reverse. He had now disarmed your weapon and your will with only a few enchanting words and a fixed look. You stood in silence under the tapestry of the scarlet eclipse; he was thinking, but of what?

The vampire’s gaze broke for only a second to look down at your lips. In the red moonlight they appeared very tempting to the vampire. Though you didn’t know it, he felt entranced by you too. In a way that he knew couldn’t be supernatural, as you were only a mere mortal, yet he felt as though you had bewitched him somehow. His mouth opened to speak once more, but when his eyes flickered back to yours, they found them already closed; for in that instant, you had shut them tightly, halting his entrancement.

You had broken his compulsion of your mind, yet you still felt caught in his undeniable allure. You didn’t move, not to push him away, not even to grab the silver stake laying by your crackling fire. You wanted to remain as close to him as possible.

“That’s a beautiful necklace,” He spoke again. As his voice brushed against your ear you could hear that he had now moved behind you. Without your sight you allowed yourself to focus on his voice. He spoke sultrily, his words leaving you wanting more. Could he be suggesting what you thought?

Your silver rosary plastered against your chest reflected brightly against the moon’s crimson glow. No vampire could touch the cross’ wearer without getting their skin scorched. He wanted you, that was clear now. He ached to touch you, but couldn’t as long as the rosary remained a barrier on your body.

You allowed your eyes to flutter open, turning only your gaze back towards him. This time you willingly looked into his eyes, wondering if he felt the same burning desire you did. His lips parted as if he were going to speak again, but closed in silent contemplation.

Tenderly, he reached out for your fingertips. Before you could register his touch he was recoiling with a sharp wince as his skin felt the searing of the cross. Your eyes widened in shock, wondering why he’d risk getting burned. You look down at his fingers, the tips now a scorched black, then back up to him with sympathy. Your compassion was unexpected as you felt an odd sense of admiration for his action.

“It’ll be worth it,” He reassured you in a murmur, “Just for one touch.”

A blooming sensation filled your body, your cheeks flushing at his words. You could feel yourself pulse with want— with need. You both remained silent as you raised your hands to unclamp the necklace. Your heart raced as you let the rosary slip off your chest onto the wine-red ground below.

He took one of your hands in his and you felt his touch for the first time. His touch was cold this time, yet held an ethereal quality. He pressed a tender kiss against the top of your hand, then held onto it as his kisses traveled delicately up your arm. Every kiss was intoxicating and filled with his passion. As his lips pressed against your shoulder, he slowed, allowing you time to tilt your head to give him complete access to your neck.

“I think…” He muttered against the bare skin of your neck, his breath sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. His lips grazed you as he continued, “I deserve a taste.”

An involuntary, trembling moan escaped your lips as his began to kiss your nape ever so gently. You looked up to the blood red moon, its deep red glow reflecting onto both your bodies. You gasped lightly as he nipped you lightly, holding himself back from devouring you altogether.

You brought your hand up to caress him as he continued to kiss hungrily at the crook of your neck. You craved more of him, pulling him in closer to let him know you needed more. He groaned against your neck as his hands began to explore your curves. You arched your back against his touch. He rubbed his hands over your breasts, then moved down to your hips to press your bodies closer together. His touch was sending a burning sensation throughout your body, you could feel yourself begin to throb at the feeling.

He used his hands to turn you to face him, keeping his hands rubbing up and down your hips in harmony with your arms now placed on his biceps. He kissed up your jawline, eventually finding home against your open lips. He kissed you hungrily as you returned the carnal lust. He was addicting, like nothing you had ever felt before. You moaned against his lips with desperation.

You hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him in closer. The movement was all he needed to effortlessly lift you, his hands getting lost in the ruffles of your long skirt as you cupped his face to kiss him deeply, your lips growing more and more needy.

Amongst your palpable insatiableness, he gracefully pressed you against a tree. You moved your hands down and began frantically undoing the lace of your bodice. Feeling your hands, the vampire took the liberty of assisting you by yanking at the lace, pulling it off of you easily before tossing it onto the floor along with his duster.

He took his lips off yours only to turn his attention back to your neck, grazing it with careful passion as he worked his way down to your collarbones, and lifting you higher to nip at your breasts. You threw your head back against the tree in pleasure, arching your back against what you could feel was his hardening cock below. He kept one hand beneath you, supporting his hips to keep you pinned up against the tree, but allowed his other hand to slip between your thighs

Your nails raked across the back of his white button-up shirt as you gripped him desperately, the burning fire becoming overwhelming as his fingers pushed past your undergarments to play with your wetness. He continued to suck on your breasts, marking you as his own. The combined sensations left you pleading for more.

“Please,” You whimpered, arching against his fingers, begging for him to enter. You felt him smile against your skin, his eyes flickering up to yours with contemptment at your desperation.

He gave in, letting one of his fingers slip into you. You trembled at the feeling, gripping him tighter. He moved his finger up and down at an achingly slow pace, enjoying how you threw your head back, looking up at the red night sky, muttering please, please, please as if you were pleading to God for more. He answered your prayers by gently slipping another finger up into you. He moved up to nip back at your neck, enjoying the vibrations that came with your needy moans.

The scent of blood he got from your neck became dizzying for him. He moaned deeply against your neck, pulling back, but keeping his forehead pressed against your collarbone in what appeared to be frustration.

“Eres una dulzura,” He breathed out. He slipped his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips to taste sensually before reaching down to undo his jeans. He swiftly pushed his already hardened cock into you with fervor, causing you to let out a sharp gasp. With that, you pushed your lips back against his hungrily and raked your fingers through his hair.

You arched your back against him as he continued to pound into you. His rhythm quickened with approval as you grew incoherent against his lips. He let his hand slip down to rub your sensitive clit in circles, causing you to buck your hips with eagerness as you began to moan noisily at his touch. He didn’t let up, keeping in time with his thrusting as you felt your bodying nearing its peak.

His pace quickened as the pressure within him increased, needing release. He grunted against your neck, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer. With a final thrust, you felt him still inside you as he reached his climax, the hot liquid filling you fervently as he rode out his high. He groaned loudly as he moved his fingers quickly against your clit as you let him know you were going to come too.

Just as you reached your peak, you felt his fangs scrape the delicate skin of your neck before puncturing your skin completely. You cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. The bite sent a powerful force through your body as you reached your climax. Your body clenched with intensity as he sucked on your neck with an insatiable hunger. You quivered against him, clinging onto his body for support.

He roughly brought his mouth away from your neck, as if holding himself back. He panted heavily, the blood— your blood— dripping from his fangs. His tongue quickly brushed over his lips to collect the dripping blood as he didn’t want any of it to go to waste.

He slipped himself out of you before gently placing you back onto the ground, though you remained leaned against the tree behind you for support. He continued to plant sinfully slow kisses along your collarbone as you breathed heavily, looking up and silently praying the red moon above would forget to go down and keep this night eternal.

[yandereunsolved]

Hello!

So I had this idea for a yandare oneshot about Kit Walker from AHS Asylum and I was wondering if I could maybe request it to you... It goes like this:

A yandere female nun who is secretly obsessed with Kit while he's an inmate in Briarcliff, so one day she goes to the extreme and assaults him while he is in bed or something

I would really appreciate it if you could shape this idea into a oneshot xxx

God's Design - ,, yandere fem. reader nun × kit walker

tw(s): yandere themes, physical assault, suggestive themes, toxic religious ideals, dubcon kissing, semi-graphic gore word count: 2.5k a/n: thank you, anon! Hope I fulfilled your request correctly. :)

The halls of Briarcliff almost near cease their cacophonous noises: patients screaming at the top of their lungs, the pipes straining from being overused, the sound of the orderlies correcting someone, and the loudest of them all was the noise of God. That nagging feeling in the back of your head whenever a sinful thought came to mind. How tempting the devil had made those thoughts to your malleable mind. One moment you were praying with your rosary, and the next your hand was slipping down towards your frilly-laced underwear. 

It was an unspoken rule to never adorn anything provocative, nothing possibly pleasing to the eye. It was a rule that every nun held sacred. Not allowing men's eyes to stray was the woman's job. Those were the rules set within the pages of the holy book.

Despite that, all you wanted to do was make his eyes stray. From the first time you saw him, you could feel your determination crumble. That holiness within you began to shrivel up like a prune. You began wearing lingerie under your uniform, teasing yourself at night. You began fantasizing about what a night with him would look like. You had never been with a man before. You had promised that you would wait until marriage.

They call him Bloody Face, but he didn't have the eyes of a killer. No, his hazel irises encapsulated much more of a lamb to the slaughter, a spooked doe in the field of life. Those eyes have called to you since you first glanced at them. They were drawing you in like a sailor at sea. Only the sea you have yet to sail is one of the most forbidden ones—the seven sinful seas. All you yearn to do is explore lust, dip your toes into its waters, and relinquish control of your sails to allow the winds of sensuality to guide you. 

You sneaked peeks at him in-between your normal shift. You tried your hardest to suppress these bubbling desires. Every time you popped one another, a few would float to the surface. It was like a never-ending cycle of torture. Each peek and small exchange left you wanting more of him. You wanted to devour him entirely, to wholeheartedly feel him in ecstasy. You wanted to see those tears and puppy-like expressions directed at you. You didn't. You still don't want any of the other nuns near him. 

You sat at the foot of your bed for many hours that fateful night. You re-read many biblical passages to set yourself right. Losing yourself in your bodily flesh would be a great sin, wouldn't it? Your mind brimming with these detestable daydreams only led you to seek further counsel. You prayed to the highest angels and saints and to the great God himself for guidance on what was to become of you.

'1st Corinthians 6:18— Flee immorality. Every other sin that a man commits is outside the body, but the immoral man sins against his own body.'

You repeated it quietly, with your hands ardently colliding together. The other night, there had just been a slip in your judgment. You hadn't meant to walk past his cell and feel your body grow hotter. You hadn't meant to skip your nightly devotional in favor of more covetous inclinations. You hadn't meant to slip on that white, satiny baby doll and admire yourself in it. You hadn't meant to almost break into his room and show yourself to him like a needy whore.

How vile! You recoil from your bedside at your own enervated nature and decrepit mind. The devil is tempting you and your womanly nature. You took a vow—an oath. You have to wait until your marriage. You have to wait for your man. 

He killed women after all. He is not a man of God. He is a man of pure sin. He is a man of cruelty and evil. He could be the devil himself, trying to tempt you into impurity. Yet you wanted to allow him in.

'1st Thessolonians 4:3— For this is the will of God, your sanctification; that is, that you abstain from sexual immorality.'

You read again. Your eyes are blurred as heavy droplets of your own suppressed sexuality bleed onto the pages filled with divinity. You were slipping. Are you losing your devotion to God? Are you losing your devotion to the cause of saving these twisted souls?

No, you assure yourself. This must be God's calling for you. He's telling you that Kit is innocent. He's compelling you to marry this man. He's urging you to find sanctity within his arms. God knows he is your future husband. That's why you feel this way! It has to be. 

In the next few weeks, you will begin to add Kit to your normal schedule. You assure the other sisters that you want to take on the challenge of caring for such a dangerous man. Sister Mary Eunice keeps giving you weird side glances and avoiding you, but you don't quite care. Her overall attitude has changed towards Briarcliff, but so has yours. You've found your purpose now. 

Every interaction with him fuels your desire to be his wife. You flirt with him subtly. When he gives you that curious expression you brush it off with a certain amount of charm and naive innocence. Your attempts at courting him are clumsy at best. Yet, it seems to be working well enough.  

You keep him away from Grace forever. They had been growing too close. They had been through too much. You planted fake evidence in her room so that she would get punished. You whispered rumors around her and sowed distrust in their once-inseparable bond. You make her life a hell of your own making. One even worse than the walls inside Briarcliff had given her. 

You saw the wedge growing in their relationship because of you. You planted yourself in her place, like a sprout replacing an invasive weed. You always slipped him extra food when it came time. You always read the Bible with him; he gave his life to Christ because of you. You both shared your most intimate secrets in the dead of night. Your relationship had grown to be something even God would envy.

That bitch just had to go and sow discord into your plentiful relationship.

You walked into the kitchen with a batch of dough that needed to set for a few hours. Your eyes widened in horror at what you saw, your pupils dilating to adjust to the lack of light in the kitchen. The large bowl slipped from your hands and crashed onto the floor. You turned around and bolted away like a frightened rabbit. You couldn't even stand to look at the scene for more than a moment. It was like seeing an angel get its wings torn off while falling from paradise.

That succubus was defiling your man. His head was thrown back in pure ecstasy—a dream in your head that you wanted to be between the both of you. Instead, that leech had him in between her legs. They were both in sync, their souls and hearts intertwined. It tore what little self-restraint you had to pieces. You could no longer wait for him to realize God's plan for the both of you.

In the dead of night, after both earned their punishment, you sneak into her room. A kitchen knife lies in your left hand, right behind your back. You'll stab her and make her feel the excruciating agony you felt. Every last drop of it. You enter her room swiftly with a slightly unhinged grin gracing your shadowed features.

She turns and gives you a surprised expression. Her stomach rumbles as she is expecting a bland dinner with as much nutrition as a wet rock. She blinks wearily as you move towards her. She seems apprehensive, but her body language is mostly relaxed. You were the one person who always seemed to be there for her. You were there for every patient. That's what made you everyone's favorite nun.

"Sister?" She calls out anxiously as she wraps an arm around her midsection. "Is dinner late? Or is this concerning my sterilization?"

"Oh, Grace." You murmur in a frenzied manner.

She backs away against the wall as her eyes dart quickly towards the door and back at you. You had locked the door, and your key was somewhere under your garments. She really didn't want to have to grope you to escape. Still, if you did have ill intentions towards her, she'd do whatever she needed to survive. 

"God gave me a Revelation. I found it in my Bible."

You move towards her and swing the knife clumsily. You were a nun, not a murderer. You weren't a murderer until your one true love came along. He just makes you a little unhinged sometimes. It's all in God's plan.

She stumbles back as her palms rest against the stone walls. Her breaths become frantic as her heart speedily beats. She goes into survival mode. A punch is thrown at you as her eyebrows furrow in concentration.

"What the hell! Doesn't your little book tell you not to murder or something?" She screams in a high-pitched tone, doing her best to possibly get someone's attention in this damned hellhole. 

She begins to shriek like a banshee as she fruitlessly struggles against you. Your free hand wraps around her wrist as you sink the knife into her throat. It makes a satisfying squelch as it slices through her skin like a knife through hot butter. She bucks against you like a wild bull as the sanguine fluid spurts out of her gaping wound. 

Another strangled scream escapes from her cracked lips. Her cries and wails fuel your murderous rage as your knife continuously sinks into her supple flesh. You stab, and stab, and stab for what feels like hours on end. You make sure she knows how much she betrayed you. How much she betrayed her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Eventually, her body and mind fail her. She slumps against your figure as the light escapes her eyes swiftly. Her soul is forced out of her body as she becomes a permanent part of Briarcliff. You giggle and smile as the knife digs into her heart. You carve it out of her chest and stab it for the umpteenth time. It squirts out more of her sinful, gooey fluid.

You stare at her limp, lifeless body. Your rage cools a few moments after that. You have no regrets. In the eyes of God you were doing something holy.

"I gave her time to repent, and she did not want to repent of her immorality." You state passively as you grimace at her corpse.

You'll clean yourself and then tell everyone tomorrow that a crazed patient broke into her cell and killed her. You are the asylum's perfect little golden nun, after all. No one will suspect a thing, just as they shouldn't. Visting her was only your first stop tonight. Your second and final, Kit's holding cell.

You slip through the darkened halls with a spring in your elated step. You stopped at your room to wash off and get rid of the kitchen knife. You slip into that precious baby doll as you put your coveted uniform over top of it. You smile in the mirror gently, your spirits as high as the heavens. 

Entire months now come down to these few moments. Your figure slips into his room. The poor thing is still strapped to his bed. Bruises line his toned figure. The paper-thin blanket barely covers his body. His thick, white hospital shirt ridding up, exposing his v-line and abs. His chest is gently moving up and down, calling to you.

You don't want to interrupt your man's slumber, but you need him to know the truth. You climb on top of his sleeping body. Each of your thighs straddling his side. One of your hands reaches down to his exposed stomach as you trail feather light touches over it. An overly excited giggle escapes your lips. 

It has all led up to this moment. Your meeting, your small talk, and your private moments. Those torturous minutes that turned into hours transformed into days in which you were barely able to see a glimpse of him. You spent all those nights praying for a man, and now you have the one that God meant for you. You'll make him forget all about that whore who besmirched him. 

"I wore something just for you, Kit." You whisper those honeyed words into the soft flesh of his pale ear.

You press a hungry kiss onto his lips as your nails dig into him. He bolts awake and panicks as his mind tries to sluggishly process what is happening. He struggles against you for a moment as his pupils dilate to adjust to the surrounding darkness. He recognizes you as his hands grip onto the sides of your thighs. A strangled groan escapes his lips as your assault on them doesn't stop.

"Sugah, slow down now." He murmurs gently with a purr escaping his velvety throat.

His lips don't resist you but return your fervent devotion to his. Everything stops in those moments as the world fades to black. There's nothing more to the both of you than two touch-starved bodies that crave an intimate connection. It was as if, in that moment, both of your hearts became one; your souls had found each other after so long.

Kit hadn't realized how starving he had been. Not just of mind but also of body. This pure sense of need wasn't something he got from Grace or Alma. Somehow, theirs was something corruptly desperate. Yours was nothing more than a divine and guttural urgency for his presence. Your movements were like those of a follower pleasing their divine being.

Everything that happened so far was for this moment. It was worth every single moment. It was worth getting caught with Grace. To see that absolute expression of anguish in those saintly irises of yours. He knew it would drive you right over the edge. He knew you wouldn't be able to resist him after that. He just wanted needed to have a pretty little nun save him from his sins.

"No, no, I can't. We were meant to be. I—"

Kit cuts you off as his hands curl around the edges of your uniform. He presses his forehead against yours intimately as he looks up at you with those doey hazel eyes. A short pant escapes his mouth as he tries to form words. It proves difficult because his entire being is yearning for the proximity of yours.

"I love you." He croaks out in pure bliss. His mouth moves from sacred lips down to the inviting nape of your neck.

God's design? No, it was his.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

✎...ღ taglist: @coentinim @cxndiedvi0lets @nahoyasboyfriend @bluerthanvelvet444

[isuckmorethanjustblood]

My relationship to Christianity is strange and complicated. I was raised catholic and my father read the bible to me every night before I went to bed. Now I only reach for my bible during manic, feverish tangents at three in the morning. I fear and hate God for what He has done to me but I still step into every church I pass to light a candle. I have long since promised myself to other Gods, that treat me much kinder and better, but my rosary still hangs over my bed and I still wear a cross and saint pendants around my neck. I see myself in Lucifer, the fallen angel, because I, too, feel as though I am fallen from grace, cast out, a sacrilege. In every single one of my poems I find God, and they almost sound like prayers, to be wailed at the feet of a priest, while the consecrated ground singes my hands and knees.

I want to feel holy again.

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

submissive vampire thoughts:

dangerous and elegant vampire who seduces a fervent young priest/nun through nothing but doe-eyed surrender; who lays pliant in their lover's bed while a rosary traces over their bare skin leaving red welt-like marks behind, who apologises with every thrust to the holy person holding them down and using them, begging forgiveness for broken vows. Vampire who begs to be hit again until their lip is split and their lover can be the one to kiss them and taste blood. Vampire who kneels naked with wetness leaking down their thighs and arms folded behind them, waiting to see if they have been obedient enough to be offered a wrist and allowed to feed.

Priest or nun who slowly find the tangle of desire and disgust in their chest changing into something so tender it scares them, who cradles their beautiful abomination close after ruining them and promises I will find a way to save you.

.

[absurdthirst]

Religious Corruption: Our Gentle Sin

Professor!Dave York x Virgin!F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings: Religion kink, corruption kink, innocence kink, age gap, unbalanced power dynamic, grooming (?), professor/student relationship, blasphemy, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), panty kink, exhibitionist kink(?), oral sex (make receiving), filthiness with rosary beads, desecration of Holy spaces, daddy kink, baby/little girl pet names, spanking, orgasm denial, loss of virginity, explicit photo without consent, vaginal sex, cum swallowing, mentions of analingus, face sitting, pussy spanking, unprotected sex, angst, heartbreak, controlling parents, arranged marriage, family drama, threats of disownment, derogatory language (whore), children, mentions of pregnancy.

Comments: Now that the truth has come out - you were a conquest for Dave York's corruption kink - it's time to see how the dice fall. Do you go back to what your parents want for your life, or do you let Dave back in?

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

!!Additional Warnings!! - There are themes in this fic that might be disturbing to some. Religion/Power Dynamics/Age Gap - consume at your own risk.

|| MasterList || Religious Corruption MasterList ||

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

His calls go straight to voicemail. His texts are rejected. You've turned off the app that allows him to see where you are. You've blocked him. Dave stares at his phone and the ache in his heart is nearly overwhelming. He wants to drive straight to your dorm and beat on the door, demanding that you listen to him but he knows you need space. You need to calm down in order to listen and he needs to organize his own thoughts and figure out how to explain.

Sitting down at his computer, Dave opens up his official school email and starts to type.

Sweetheart,

I first want to tell you that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you and making you cry. The only time I like seeing tears on your pretty face is when you are overwhelmed. Feeling good and I know you were not feeling good when you left tonight.

You were right. It started out as a conquest. Your virginity was a prize for me to claim. I never have been a moral or righteous man, you have to know this. Why else would corrupting you be so sexy to me? Why would making you break all the promises you made to your parents, to yourself, to God, be such a thrill? I guess you are right. I am evil.

But.....something changed. I know you saw the girls before you. The other 'good girls' that I corrupted. They were....victims of my own sins. They were prizes that were tossed away when the innocence was gone. If you read the book, you saw that I wrote a lot about them and there is very little that has been noted about you since the day I took your virginity. It's- I stopped writing because I - fuck, I don't even know why, really.

I realized yesterday that I had stopped. That it had stopped being a game for me. I brought you home. None of the others were ever allowed to spend the night, to stay with me. I never wanted them here. I kept the journal at home because they were not there and I just- didn't feel the need in writing down everything that I had done with you - to you.

Please talk to me. Please give me a chance to explain in person. To apologize. I owe you an apology, baby girl. I will get down on my fucking knees and beg for forgiveness if you will just talk to me. To let me show you that it's not a game anymore. Honestly it might have never been. I don't know. I just know that I hate myself right now, I hate that I hurt you and I hate that I can't pull you into my arms and hold you.

Talk to me, scream at me, hit me, I don't care. I deserve it. Just....please believe me when I say that I love you.

Dave

He stares at the email. Unhappy with how inarticulate he sounds, how badly he conveys his emotions in this. It's hard to try to write what he is feeling when all he wants to do is pull you into his lap and promise you with his kisses that you mean more to him than just a page in a trophy book. That he needs you to be happy. Dropping his head to his hand, Dave rubs his eyes, watery and red, and looks back at the email again. 

He knows you might just bin it. So instead of hitting send, Dave saves it as a draft and closes his laptop. He'll talk to you tomorrow in class.

*

The second you climbed into the uber you had blocked his number, not wanting to hear his excuses, not wanting to be suckered in by the man you know you love. The man you know could never love you.

You sent an email out to the Faculty supervisor advising that you didn’t feel Dave's class was for you and that you’d be dropping it from your timetable immediately. 

*

You began sobbing again as your uber pulled up outside your dorm, the driver shot you a reassuring look as you climbed out. 

You took your time approaching your building, not wanting to be back in the cold and lonely dorm room you had rarely stayed in the past few months. Only really staying when Dave had to speak to parents or had a faculty meeting that would be running late. 

It’s weird. That’s the first thought you have as you open the door to your room, it feels like home. But not the one you had made at Dave’s. The one you spent years growing up in, cold and lonely, too scared to make too much noise and too anxious to ever feel comfortable in. 

You trace the crappy wooden desk with your fingers, your bible, rosary and cross tucked neatly in the corner. Gifts from your parents that have since that been used as props in the depravity you played out with him.

‘What did I do?’ you murmur out loud as tears drench your puffy cheeks.

A week. That’s what you gave yourself, a week of no classes, a week of living off sandwiches and only showering when you couldn’t put it off any longer. Lying comfortably in your bed with your phone switched off and making no effort to contact the outside world, apart from when you switched on your laptop in midweek and ordered an insane amount of food from instacart to be dropped off outside your door.

You wondered if he tried to call, you wondered if he’d noticed his number was blocked. And then you started to wonder if he’d simply moved on to the next girl. That particular thought makes bile rise in your throat and threaten to spill out across your bedsheets.

*

Dave didn't sleep. Tossing and turning all night, he was on his phone every fifteen minutes. Checking to see if you messaged him, if he had missed a call. Several of his own texts pinging back as undeliverable since he was blocked. He had almost gone out to buy another phone to try to talk to you but decided against it. You wanted space and he decided to give it to you even though he hated it. 

He doesn't see the email until he is nearly ready to leave for campus. The Faculty advisor for the freshman class, your class, with an email title containing your name. 

Making him sit down and listen to his heart pounding in his ears as he clicks on the email. Disappointment, heartache and anger at himself swirling in the pit of his stomach as he reads that you are dropping his class, effective immediately. 

Shit. Dave shakes his head and snaps the laptop shut. Needing to talk to you, he stops himself from going to your dorm and beating on your door. He'll give you a week to calm down. You deserve it after what he's done.

*

A knock at your door pulls you away from the book you’re half paying attention to. ‘That was quick’ you think to yourself, assuming that it must be the driver dropping off the Oreos and Jalapeño Cheddar cheetos you had been craving. You quietly creep towards the door, and peer through the peephole. ‘Fuck,’ you mouth as you slowly move back away from the door.

An entire fucking week. It's how long it's been since you walked out of his house and of his life. 

Dave is fucking miserable. Hating how he keeps looking for you in class, despite knowing that you've dropped it. Deandra tapping on his fucking door during office hours and raising his hopes only have them die a swift death when her overeager and too cheerful face pops in the door. He's come close to canceling classes all week, but he would have to explain that to the department heads and what could he possibly tell them?

He's rearranged his house. Driving the two hours out of town to where he would take you shopping. Far away from the college and anyone either one of you could possibly know. You love window shopping and imagining. A swivel chair, one that hangs off a base and allows you to spin around completely had been your favorite and you often moaned about having enough money to buy it. Telling him in detail exactly where you would put it in his home. It now sits right where you wanted it. To the left of the table where he sits to grade papers. It lets him imagine you sitting there. 

Now, he's caved. Standing in front of your dorm door. Knocking quietly and praying - despite the fact that Dave York doesn't pray - that you will open the door and talk to him. He's not even seen you around campus and he's worried. Unable to ask anyone who knows you without making it seem suspicious, apparently both of you had been very good at keeping your relationship hidden. 

He shuffles slightly, reaching out and knocking just a bit harder, more insistently. Listening for any sounds of movement from within the small space.

You’re not sure if you want to open the door to slap his face or just smash your lips against his. Why is he here? And what more could he possibly want from me? 

You quietly creep back into bed, pulling the covers all the way over your head and fighting to keep the tears threatening to spill down your face at bay. This week has been filled with tears, anger, upset, reasoning and being unable to hide from the fact that you’re completely and utterly in love with a man who set out to ruin you from the second he saw you. 

And now he’s here, just a few feet away.

He makes himself look like an idiot. Several students study him curiously as he stands outside your door but they don't say anything to him. Still he waits, knowing that if he says anything, you won't open the door for him. 

Finally, another person comes up the call, bag in hand. Hustling with the energy of someone who is trying to get things done, they barely glance at him before they check their phone and look at the number on the door and drop the bag on the handle. Stepping back and taking a picture before turning and walking away at the same impatient pace. 

Of course, Dave is curious. Finding Oreos and Cheetos in the bag, he's miffed you aren't eating properly, but he's happy you are at least eating. Instead of staying, making you open the door to him in order to get your food, he gets the message. You don't want to see him. Sighing softly, Dave puts the bag back on the door handle, a little heavier with his own addition and turns to walk away - kicking himself for being responsible for all of this.

*

You’re not sure how long you stay hidden under your blanket, but the knocking had stopped at least fifteen minutes ago and the chime from the laptop had informed you that your delivery was outside. 

Slowly you sit up, before taking a deep breath and wiping your cheeks with the backs of your hands.

Eventually you take small steps towards your door, peering through the hole and seeing an empty hallway. You open the door and quickly grab the bag hanging from your handle. 

You empty the plastic bag over your bed and raise your eyebrow at a package of sugar cookies that you never ordered, cookies you recognize as being from the grocery store you two would go to out of town. Where he’d hold your hand and insist on paying for whatever ingredients you had loaded into the cart for the meals you’d cook.

You pick up the plastic casing and turn it upright and what you see makes your heart stutter. Your breath hitches and a fresh stream of tears spring to your eyes.

A polaroid clearly taken from his kitchen of the pink velvet swivel chair that you absolutely adored sitting in every time you went to that store. You can feel the plush material on your fingertips now. Two words written in sharpie on the white frame around the photograph ‘Come home.’

Confusion wracks your body, anger slowly joining it, ‘Why is he doing this?’ you murmur, ‘Is this just part of the game he seemingly loves to play?’ 

‘Enough is enough’ you think as you throw the cookies and the photo in your nightstand drawer, you are going to take a shower and you’re going over there to confront him. He will not hurt you anymore.

Dave hates waiting. It’s something he’s always known about himself but he’s learned it’s especially hard now. 

After leaving the cookies and the photo, he had driven home. Changed into comfortable clothes and started waiting. The blinds open and his phone in his hands at all times, he watches for any sign that you are willing to talk to him, to forgive him.

He waits. And waits. The light from the day fades and you don’t come.

*

The last two weeks had been miserable.

You had felt more determined than ever to go and face Dave, ready to listen to what he had to say and go on from there.

You grabbed your toiletries bag, and some fresh clothes and made your way down to the showers. Taking the time to freshen up, and think through what you were going to say to him. You’d grabbed the same yellow sundress from the first time you’d gone to his house, not realizing until you’d put it on. You fixed your hair and made your way back down to your room.

The sight of your door slightly ajar sent a shiver down your spine, you knew you had locked it before heading to the showers. ‘Dave?’ you questioned quietly before taking a deep inhale and pushing it all the way open. 

“Where on earth have you been?” your father bellowed from across your room, “We haven’t heard from you for over a week. You haven’t attended classes… We were worried sick.” You  had remained entirely still throughout his ranting and raving, him refusing to let you have a single word in as he went off at you. 

Your mother sat silently on the end of your bed just shaking her head at you repeatedly, “Your father is right,” she eventually said, “We didn’t raise you to be like this. We spoke to your advisor and he’s agreed to let us take you home for a few weeks, we have something important to discuss with you.”

“No,” you call out, “I’m not going… I can’t. I have things to do. I have class—.”

“You have to do what me and your mother say,” your father says with a scoff, “You have ten minutes to pack.”

Pleading and begging your Mother fell on uncaring ears, she simply walked to your door and waited on the other-side. Listening to you sob as you threw some things in a bag, including the cookies and photo from Dave. 

You decided you would text him that night, and arrange to meet up when you returned home unaware of the news awaiting you. 

*

“You want us to what?” you said in utter disbelief, “I barely know him.” 

A chorus of laughter filled the room as you looked across at the face staring back at you, the grin on his face mocking and slightly bored, “You’ve been in my bible study for six months,” he says nonchalantly, “Our parents agree that we would be perfect together.”

“I-uh, I—.” You attempted to get out a sentence but your father quickly cut you off. 

“To the joining of our families,” he said as the room erupted with cheers, and a ring was hastily shoved down your finger. 

In less than twelve hours you’d gone from being comfortably laid up in your college dorm to being dragged home and engaged to a boy you’d barely spoken ten words to. 

Stories were exchanged about how his parents had met at St Brennans just like yours and now you and Joshua. Tears spilled down your cheeks as they celebrated your impending union whilst acting like you weren’t there. Whilst pretending you weren't silently sobbing at the end of the table, because they were snatching your life from you. 

Over the next two weeks you had been taken for a dress fitting, the dress already chosen and approved by your father, you’d sat sheepishly in a cafe whilst they tested cake samples and your stomach threatened to spill its contents everywhere and you’d been given a date. July 1st.

Despite being an adult and able to make decisions for yourself, your parents had decided you still needed to be punished for disappearing for a week, so they took your phone. Locked it away in your father’s office and refused to give it back to you until the day you were going back to St. Brennans. 

Joshua had informed you that he would be driving you both back with a wink and you wanted to scream.

*

The drive back was as uncomfortable as you expected, Joshua had gotten into the habit of calling you ‘babe’ and it made you cringe internally every time. You couldn’t understand it, he was so comfortable being pushed into a marriage arranged for him, and so receptive to you being his wife without knowing you.

A twang of guilt built up in your stomach as he went on and on about the life he was expecting for you both, clearly excited to follow in his parents footsteps and you hated that you couldn’t relate. 

He thinks you to be this pure and innocent girl, one who lived to serve Christ but the reality simply couldn’t be further away.

*

Dave sighs, not even bothering to pull out his phone and check to see if you have messaged him. You've completely ignored him, refused to answer your door the six times he has gone back to your dorm to talk to you and managed to avoid him on campus. 

He needs to just accept that you want nothing to do with him and move on, but he's finding it hard to do. Which is wild considering he was already planning on how to end things when he met you. Starting a relationship that had a finite expiration date and now he was the one that was hanging on like a pathetic sap. Secretly, he believes he deserves it. 

The knock on his door makes his traitorous heart gallop in his chest, although he knows it won't be you. It will be Deandra. Coming once again to flirty and very obviously try to get closer to him. It's making him extremely uncomfortable. To the point where office hours are now taken with the door open when a student is in his office and there is a camera set on his bookshelf to record the interactions. He doesn't trust her and he doesn't want her to be able to say that something inappropriate happened when it didn't. Ironic considering what he has done in this office.

*

You check your emails the second you arrive in your dorm, plugging your phone into the charger and waiting for it to finally switch on for the first time in weeks.

**RE: Meeting with your faculty supervisor.**

You click the email and see the date and time, and groan out loud seeing you have less than 15 minutes to get to her office on campus. 

You slip on your shoes and grab your key, having no choice but to leave your still dead phone on your nightstand charging. 

The halls are busy, most classes having just ended meaning that the halls are filled with your peers spilling out to make their way to their next classes.

“Oop, sorry,” you yelp as you bump into someone, too busy checking the time on your watch to realize where you were.

Dave reaches out, reflexively taking the errants students' shoulders so they don't fall. His own apology dying on his tongue and all he can do is whisper your name. Shocked that you are here, his heart pounding and his mind racing - wondering why you are here now. He had been trying to get away from his office and now you are running into him.

Your hand instinctively comes up to your chest as you steady yourself, “Hi,” you breath out, unable to ignore the warmth that floods you after seeing him for so long, “I have a meeting with my fac—.” You begin to say, about to ask if he’d meet you for a coffee somewhere or maybe you could go for a drive to talk. And that’s when she bounces out from his office, a smug smile spreading across her cheeks as she sees you.

Dave doesn't even notice that you've stopped talking, that your entire body has stiffened. The sound of his office door closing doesn't meet his ears or register at all. 

You're wearing a ring.

You're wearing an engagement ring. It's not a purity ring. It couldn't be a promise ring. It's a solitaire, a pretty ugly one, if he were to say something. Marquis cut and a tiny chip of a diamond, but it's an engagement ring for certain. 

His heart shatters and it's all he can do not to grab your hand and rip it off your finger. To fling it as far away from you as he can. His vision blurring for a dizzying moment before he blinks and looks up at your face.

“Professor York,” you simply say, voice dripping with venom, “Deandra.” You look at him one more time before pushing past them both and making your way to see your advisor. Feeling the familiar sting of tears welling up in your eyes as you continue onwards.

Shit. Dave's eyes slip closed and he realizes what you thought you just walked into. He shakes his head and calls your name, but you don't turn around. Refusing to acknowledge him. Deandra moves up beside him and huffs, making him turn towards her in annoyance at her ruining seeing you again. 

"What?" He demands, refusing to be nice after she had ruined his one chance to talk to you. Before she had come out of his damn office, you had actually seemed happy to see him. 

"I'm just surprised that she's back." Deandra sniffs, staring after you unhappily. 

"Back?" Did you go somewhere? Did something happen to you? Are you okay? The questions swim in his mind but he doesn't ask them. 

"Yeah, her parents pulled her out for two weeks." She supplies smugly, like there's something wrong with you and she's obviously more superior because her parents haven't pulled her out. Dave wishes they would. "Joshua from the bible study group was bragging that he was getting engaged to her when he went home this weekend."

Dave's jaw clenches, fury flooding his entire body. You were being handled. Forced into a marriage your parents arranged for you to marry a good, 'Godly' boy. Something you had worried about to him while you were in his bed and he assured you wouldn't happen.

*

Your meeting was a disaster, you could barely concentrate as she handed you three weeks of missed assignments, three weeks of homework to catch up and read out a letter from an anonymous member of your bible study group about how disinterested you appeared to be. How your phone would go off and you’d make a lame excuse and practically run out of the building somewhere. 

She gave you some feedback from a few professors who had been pretty complimentary but made the same comments about your head seemingly being elsewhere else. And then she made a standoffish remark about you understanding where they’re coming from. 

You apologized about fifty times before she dismissed you and you carried the stack of paperwork you needed to catch up on. You weren’t to go to class tomorrow she had said but as she wanted you go concentrate on catching up.

The door of your room swings shut behind you as you throw yourself down on your bed, your phone has finally charged enough to switch itself on and you pick it up and start going through your notifications. 

A few missed calls from your parents as expected, some texts from the kids in your bible study group and nothing from Dave. Which should come as no surprise to you seeing as you blocked his number, but still stings.

‘Probably been too busy with Deandra,’ you grit out from behind your teeth.

*

Maybe marrying Joshua won’t be as bad as you think. Yes, you’ll probably end up living the exact same life as your mother, and you’ll never be truly happy. 

But you can’t hurt the way you’re hurting right now, if you never let anyone as close to you as you let Dave you repeat to yourself. 

You look down at the ugly ring on your finger and you sigh.

*

Dave's strides down the hall of the dorm room are filled with anger. Some students recognize him, skittering out of the way. Or maybe they just see an angry older adult and decide to vanish, but he quickly makes his way to your room again. You will talk to him. 

This time he doesn't knock. Grabbing the handle and growling when it turns in his hand. Pushing the door open to your room and stepping inside before practically kicking the door shut behind him. Making you jump out of your skin when he startles you.

You’re in the middle of an essay for your English Literature class, and the door flies open scaring you half to death. Dave strides in the room and lets the door slam behind him. 

“If you’re looking for Deandra, you’re in the wrong building,” you spit at him before he can speak.

He ignores the barb, knowing you won't believe him if he tried to tell you that nothing happened with her. Especially because of your jealousy before. "Is this what you want?" He demands, eyes sparkling with anger. "Really want?"

“What are you talking about?” Completely oblivious to the fact he’s seen your ring.

"Joshua." He spits the boy's name with the same venom that you had said Deandra's. Jealousy drips from his tone but he will freely admit that. He'd confess every sin to you if you would let him. "You're going to marry him?"

You feel your chest constrict as you realize he knows, “How did y—,” you begin to say before stopping, “Why do you even care?”

"Why do I care?" Dave repeats your question and chuckles angrily. "Why do you think I care, little girl?" He demands, stepping closer to you and it's still too far away for his liking. "I waited for you to talk to me, and you- you ran off and let mommy and daddy pair you off."

“Fuck you,” you spit back at him, “Some of us don’t have a fucking choice, Dave. You think I wanted to go with them? Have to sit there and listen as they discussed whether I’d ever been kissed before? Discuss my virtue like it’s the only thing that fucking matters? Have to sob silently at the fucking dinner table as they toast crappy champagne and celebration a union that I don’t fucking want. All whilst the man I lo—,” You shake your head at him again. 

“Clearly you’ve found your next participant, so why don’t you run along and find her.”

"I haven't touched Deandra." Dave hisses, scowling at you and the scene that you've painted of what has happened. It pisses him off and hurts him because he knows you were unhappy because of him. "I'm not going to touch Deandra." Or anyone else. He wants to say but you don't want to hear that. You aren't ready to hear it yet.

“Really?” you scoff, “Not as fun when they’re throwing themselves at you. But I'm guessing that’s technically what I did… Took the other months, didn't it? And it took me days.”

"Shut the fuck up." Dave growls, angry that you would talk down about yourself. He wouldn't let anyone say something like that about you, not even yourself. He shakes his head and glares at you. "Don't talk about yourself like that."

“Why not?” you say with a shrug, “Is that not what you would have written about me when you got bored of me and filled in your little diary of conquests.”

"Fuck this." Dave knows he could get slapped but he doesn't give a fuck. Surging forward, he grabs the back of your neck and crushes his lips to your desperately. Pouring every ounce of frustration and love into the kiss.

You hands float midair as he pulls you into him, his mouth covering yours as he kisses you deeper than ever before, part of you wants to push him off and tell him to fuck himself but a bigger part of you doesn’t, so you don’t, you let him kiss you like he needs it to survive. 

You finally pull away and repeat the six words you’ve said numerous times to your parents and hope that this time they don’t get swept away or completely ignore, “I don’t want to marry him.”

"You're not fucking marrying him." Dave promises you, his hand reaching for yours to pull that piece of shit ring off like he had wanted to earlier. Hating how he has to let you go, but this is important. 

He's gentle with your hand, sliding the ring off so he doesn't hurt your finger but once it's off, it clatters to the floor and he's dragging you back to him.

“You need to explain, Dave,” you say as you place your head on his chest, “You need to tell me why you did it.”

He closes his eyes, knowing that he owes you this. He owes you so much but he at least owes you an explanation. He takes a minute so he doesn’t just kiss you again. "Sit down, baby girl." He urges you softly. "I- I'll tell you everything." His hand slides up and down your back slowly before he lets you go.

You sit down on the bottom of your bed and rest your hands in your lap, “Tell me.”

There's symbolism in the way that Dave kneels down in front of you. Not only so he can look you in the eyes, but he is literally kneeling at your feet. Laying his sins bare in front of the woman he has wronged and hoping that she forgives him.

"You- you were right." He starts off, not willing to insult you by denying it. "I started this out with every intention of taking your innocence. Corrupting you."

Your hands tighten together and he hates the way your breathing hitches. "I- It's a thing- a kink, I guess. Taking someone innocent and pure, virginal and turning them into.....a slut." God, it sounds horrible when he says it out loud.

Dave doesn't touch you, sensing you would recoil if he tried right now. "So when you- when you showed me that you had a crush on me, I chose you." He takes a breath. "But baby, I- I need you to know that it didn't- it changed. It completely changed."

You squeeze your eyes closed, his words making you feel a little dizzy, “When did it change?” you ask, “What makes me any different from those other girls?”

He wants to tell you that it's the night he took your virginity, because that's when it started to shift. At least from what he can pinpoint. But you wouldn't believe that. You would think that he was just trying to say that your pussy was too good or something like that. 

"I don't know." He admits quietly. "I- I never went shopping with them. They never spent the night at my house. They didn't know where I live." He had made sure that there wouldn't be any dramatics brought to his home. "I didn't want them with me all the time. I didn't love them."

“You say that like you loved me,” you whisper back, unsure whether you’re reading between the lines, or if he just admitted to loving you.

"I didn't love you, past tense." Dave whispers just as softly. "I do love you. As in, I haven't stopped." He shakes his head and murmurs your name, "I love you."

“I don’t want to be here,” you admit to him, your hand coming up to touch his cheek, “Take me home, Dave.”

He had thought for a second that you would slap him. He would have deserved it. Your hand on his cheek makes him close his eyes, relaxing for the first time since you had fled his house so many weeks ago. Calling it home makes his heart skip a beat. Nodding, he swallows harshly. "Get your stuff, sweetheart. Whatever you want to bring." He won't assume you want him, he won't assume you are going to his home to sleep with him but he wants you to be comfortable.

You pack a few things, mostly just stuffing them on top of the stuff you already had packed from your trip. Dave picks up the pile of paperwork you need to work on and your laptop, as you bend down and collect the ring he had thrown across the room. Setting it on your desk with a little note simply saying, ‘I’m sorry.’

"Let's go, baby girl." Dave is impatient to get you home. Especially when you told him that Joshua was going to drop by to see how your first day back was when he got done with bible study. He wants to be gone because he will hurt the boy's feelings.

You follow him out the door, pulling it shut but not bothering to lock it. You want Joshua to get his ring back and anything of value is coming with you. You walk side by side with him down the hallway, your shoulder lightly brushing against his as you do so.

"I came by your room a lot." Dave admits as the two of you walk towards the exit. "I- I wrote you an email that night. Never sent it, thinking I would talk to you the next day in class. But-" He doesn't finish the statement, knowing you know what happened. He just wants you to know that he hasn't just forgotten you.

“Can I read it?” you ask as he holds open the door for you, “If you still have it?”

"I do." He follows behind you and looks around to make sure that your fiancé isn't nearby as he guides you towards his car. "It's saved as a draft."

You walk silently to his car, ignoring the confused looks from other students as he carries a stack of your things. He opens the trunk and you carefully place your bags in there and make your way to the front. Sliding in the passenger seat and waiting for him to drive you back to his place.

As soon as he has left the campus, Dave is handing you his phone. "Open the emails and go into the drafts." He has nothing to hide from you and it will allow you to read it while he's driving. More importantly, you would see when it was written.

You don’t want him to see you cry, but with every new sentence your heart aches a little harder, you’re still so unbelievably angry with him and you don’t know how long it’ll take for you to let it all go. “Why didn’t you send it? This was written that day, Dave.”

"Would you have read it?" He asks, looking over at you seriously. "Or believed a word I said?"

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly, “maybe, maybe not.” You look out the window as your complex disappears from sight, and you play with your hands in your lap. A small smile briefly landing on your lips as you get a flashback to the first time in his car. “You bought the swivel chair?”

"Stupid, I know." Dave huffs to himself, wishing that he knew what you were thinking right now. "I just- I needed to imagine you there. It- it didn't feel like home anymore."

“Did spending that much money help?” you say with a small giggle, “It's nice that you were thinking of me.”

"It didn't help, but I was hoping that you would come back and enjoy it." He hums, smiling at the sound of your laugh. He hopes that your good mood will help, since he's not done confessing. "There's something else that I need to tell you." He confesses, looking over you briefly before looking back at the road. "About all of this."

“What is it?,” You say glancing over at him, he’s focusing on the road a little too hard. Almost like he can’t bring himself to look at you.

“You remember all the pictures I took to show you what you looked like?” He asks. Of course you remember. After every filthy, depraved thing that he had done to you, he had shown you how beautiful you looked. Cum coating your face, your tits. The first time he filled your pussy with his ‘seed’. His view when you sat on his face. You bouncing on his cock. All snapped to show you how filthy you were. He loved every single one of them.

“Yes,” you sat quietly, “Why?”

Dave is quiet for a second, the words heavy on his tongue. “I kept them.” He confesses, wanting everything to be in the open. He doesn’t want anything else to pop up and it requires him to come clean.

You nod, not entirely surprised if you’re honest and you lightly tap your fingers against your knees, “Has anyone else seen them?”

"Never." Dave growls out, disgusted with the idea of anyone ever seeing you like that. "I never sent them to anyone or showed them to anyone but you. They were- they are in a password protected file on my phone."

“Okay,” you breathe out, “I- I am not surprised that you kept them. It’s okay. Thank you for telling me.”

He's shocked that you aren't upset. Looking over at you to gauge what you are feeling as he drives gives nothing away. "Do you want me to delete them? I will, I'll let you delete them, go through my phone to make sure I don't have them anywhere else."

“Did you take photos of the others?” you ask, that thought threatening to spill tears from you.

"N-no." Dave shakes his head quickly, unsure if you will believe him. "I never- the first time I took a picture like that was because you wanted to see it and I- it was perfect."

“I remember,” you say, and you believe him. He’d always made it clear that he’d never do anything that wasn’t specifically given the green light and you were confident that he would have had those rules with the others, so you don’t think he’d lie. If he had done so, they would have consented. 

“You don’t have to delete them,” you announce, “As long as they’re safe.” 

"Do you want to see them?" He asks softly. "I'll give you the password. So you can check."

“Yes,” you say, sucking in your cheeks, “I would.”

Dave gives you the password to the file after telling you where to go on his phone. He even gives you the code to unlock it since it's gone dark after you read the email, wanting to show you that he has nothing to hide anymore. The password is your birthday.

A small fleeting smile creeps on your face as he tells you the password. “Mhmm,” you hum, and then you slowly start to scroll the hundreds of photos.

Dave sighs softly at how well you are taking this. Silent as you scroll through the photos that had recorded practically every lewd act the two of you had done together. Most of them were taken in his house, but a few in his office. 

While you had been gone, it had been all he had to keep him sane, another the last two pictures in the album were his favorite. The first was a picture of you sprawled on his chest, fast asleep as you curled into him. The other is when he had to slip out of bed to pee and you stole his pillow to cuddle. Both of them made his heart clench although he hadn't realized why at the time. 

“They are great pictures.” Dave murmurs quietly. 

You hum in response, riding out the rest of the car ride in a comfortable silence.

*

It doesn't take long for Dave to pull into his garage again, happy to be home and he sighs as the garage door closes behind the car. "We're here." Dave murmurs, looking over at you and wondering why you want to be here. You haven't told him anything about what you are feeling or what you want to do beyond wanting to come here.

“We’re here,” you echo as you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. You walk around to the trunk and pick up your bags and he grabs your laptop, leaving the stack of papers in his trunk. You wait for him to start walking to the house before following him, unsure what you want to say, unsure what’s about to happen, but feeling glad to be back here.

Once Dave puts everything down on the table, he's running his hands down along his jeans nervously. "Is there anything else you want to know? Questions you have?" He asks softly. He's off balance right now, the dynamic has shifted and right now you have all the power.

“Not right now,” you say. The swivel chair immediately grabs your attention. He had placed it so close to where he marks his papers that he could reach out and touch you without needing to stretch at all. 

“I’m a little hungry,” you admit, still focusing on the chair.

"Food." He can do food. Nodding, he motions towards the chair. "Sit down and I'll make you something to eat, sweetheart." He tells you, turning back towards the fridge and stove. "I'll make you some breakfast." You love eating breakfast anytime of day and it would be easy to throw together.

“That sounds good,” you say, slowly walking towards the chair, brushing your fingertips across the velvet and then slowly lowering yourself down on it. Swiveling it so it’s facing Dave in the kitchen. You sit and watch him cooking, watching the way he’s focused, measuring the ingredients for pancakes so precisely and mouthing the method as he prepares the batter.

You haven't said that you want to be with him and there is a worry that you are stringing him along to make him twist in the wind for awhile before you tell him that he's fucked up too much for you to give him another chance. He tries not to concentrate on that. "Did you- why did you go home?" He asks.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say honestly, “I was getting ready to come here. My parents had arranged for me to have time off of school. I tried to say no to them.”

Dave shakes his head, annoyed at your parents for meddling in your life. Taking away the minute freedoms you had since attending college. "I'm sorry, baby girl. I know you had to hate that."

“I had this big plan to come here, Dave, I had so much I was going to say to you. To tell you,” you bite down on your lip to suppress a sob, “I was ready to talk to you.”

"You can tell me now." Dave looks up from the pancakes to gaze at you softly. "Everything you wanted to say. I deserve it."

You look up at him and those big puppy dog eyes, “I was going to tell you that I’m more than just a clergyman’s daughter,” you feel the tears you didn’t realize had built up in your ears start to drip down your cheeks, “I was going to yell at you and tell you that I didn’t deserve it. But mostly I just wanted to see if you were truly sorry.”

"You are more than a clergyman's daughter." Dave will admit that easily. "It- there's also a religious aspect to my sexual appetite." He rolls his eyes and gives a slightly self deprecating sigh. "It has to do with that. I deserve to be yelled at. You do deserve better. So much better than me. But baby, I am sorry.

“I know you are,” you reply softly, “I know you’re sorry baby.”

"I- how much of the book did you read?" He asks, wondering what you remember about it.

“Not much,” you shrug, “Figured out pretty quickly what it was. And seeing my name and the amount of days…” You don’t want to finish the sentence, you simply shake your head and shrug again. Blinking away the tears still streaming down your cheeks.

"Are you ashamed?" He asks, knowing that it's a difficult question. "Of sleeping with me?"

“No,” you say as you stand up and take a step towards him, “No. I’m hurt that it happened the way it did, but I'm not ashamed.”

"I meant what I said." He rasps out. "I- it was always your decision. If you had- hadn't wanted to, I wouldn't have-" He shakes his head. "A few days, a few years - you're worth the wait."

“You would have waited a few years?” you say with a raised eyebrow, “Mhm.”

"Before you?" Dave shakes his head, admitting that he wouldn't have waited. He would have moved on. "No, I wouldn't have. But you? Baby girl, you just- you don't understand."

“I do,” you say quietly as you take his face in your hands, “It’s just gonna take a while for things to heal.”

"I know." Dave knows that you don't trust him, you shouldn't trust him. He closes his eyes at the feeling of your hands on him, grounding him and proving that you are real and here. "But you aren't marrying that twerp." He grunts.

“I’m scared,” you admit as you pepper the lightest of kisses on his lips, “I don’t know what’s gonna happen when my parents find out.”

"Fuck them." Dave growls, angry that they would essentially sell their daughter because that's what they were doing. "I won't let them affect you."

“I don’t want to think about it right now,” you mumble, “And I don’t want you to burn my pancakes.”

Dave rolls his eyes and huffs, turning back towards the pancakes to flip them to the other side. "Now who's bossy?" He grumbles.

“I learned from the master,” you say as you take a seat on the counter, “And don’t forget the chocolate chips.”

"The next one will be chocolate chip." Dave promises, moving over to the pantry so he can get the mini chocolate chips to add to the pancakes.

“I’m going to tell my parents tomorrow,” you say as you pop a handful of chocolate chips in your mouth and swallow, “Worst thing they can do is stop paying my tuition and get me kicked out and drag me home right? They can’t force me down the aisle.”

"They can't force you down the aisle if you're already married." Dave murmurs, plating up a pancake and measuring out the batter for the next one. The idea of you marrying that little asshole pisses him off and he won't let that happen. Nor would he let them control your life anymore.

“And who exactly would I be married to?” you ask, not completely believing what you’re hearing.

“Who do you think?” It stings, the knowledge that you had never even given the idea of a future with him. Hypocritical of him, but still.

“I’ve dreamt of it,” you admit, “Those nights when I was snuggled up on your chest listening to you snore. Me and you. Somewhere far from everyone else, a small courthouse. 

“I don’t snore.” Dave lifts a brow at you, smirking slightly when you roll your eyes at him. “Your parents have no control over me. And I don’t give a damn what they will say.”

“Dave,” you snort, “I’m pretty sure there’s a question you’re supposed to ask me, if you’re serious.”

“You want me to ask you now?” He asks, pointing at the pan. “In front of your pancakes?”

“Are you scared I'll say no,” you say before you whisper, “In front of your pancakes?”

“Yes.” Dave concentrates on flipping the pancake a little more than he probably has to. “I’m a lot older than you, I did a lot of things you shouldn’t forgive me for, some would say I groomed you.”

“Mhmm,” you say, “Some would say I waltzed into your bedroom and started to strip in front of you… old man.”

“You did strip in front of me.” Dave can’t help but smirk. “Spread your legs and begged me to fuck you, little girl.”

“I might need a refresher.” You say with a wink, “Hurry up with my pancakes.”

Dave growls and his cock twitches at your playful and bossy command. “So bossy. Going to spank you if you keep it up.”

“I think if anyone deserves a spanking here right now, it’s not me.”

Dave smirks and moves another pancake to the plate. “Are you saying you want to spank me, little girl?”

“If you don’t hurry up with my food, I might have to.” You sit as you reach over and pull the plate towards you.

Chuckling, he shakes his head and turns to get the syrup and the milk out of the fridge. “Eat up, little girl, I’ll make your eggs.”

*

You’re all snuggled up in the swivel chair, watching Dave mark a few papers before you yawn loudly, and he immediately turns to face you.

“Do you- uh, want to sleep?” Dave asks, setting down his pen and deciding that he is done for the night.

“Sleep sounds good,” you say with another little yawn. “You all done?”

“I can be.” Dave stands and starts shuffling the papers, stacking them on his laptop and turning to you. “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart.”

He stretches out his hand for you to grab, and leads you up the stairs to his bedroom.

Dave turns towards you once you are in the bedroom. Earlier, you had brought your stuff up here and he doesn’t know what you’ve done with it, but he doesn’t see your bag. Reaching up, he cups your cheek gently and leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Goodnight, baby girl.” He murmurs softly and steps back so he can go sleep in the spare room. He’s not going to push you and just having you under his roof is enough right now.

“Where are you going?” You ask clearly confused.

Dave frowns and turns back to you. “I- you want me to sleep here with you?” He asks, feeling like it would be the last thing you would want.

A small laugh slips through your lip, “You think I want to sleep in your bed without you?” You shake your head before running your hands over your hair, “Get into bed, York.”

“Shut up.” Dave blows out a huff and reaches back to shut the door to the bedroom. Just a habit of his.

“You shut up,” you counter back as you pull off your sweater, and start unbuttoning your jeans.

He smirks slightly, happy to see your spunk showing and he starts to undress. His eyes are fixed on you though, watching you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen your body.

You look up and see him staring at you, “Dave,” you murmur as you step out of your jeans, “Are you planning on sleeping in your clothes? Because I'd much prefer it if you didn’t.”

“I’ll get undressed.” Dave promises you. “Just admiring the view. I’ve missed it.”

“Yeah?” you ask softly, knowing it drives him crazy when your voice is dripping with innocence.

He groans, knowing you will see that he’s already half hard when he pushes his jeans down. “Yeah.” He rasps out, tossing his shirt aside and reaching for the button of his jeans. “A lot, baby girl.”

“Show me how much, Dave.” You whisper after you take off your bra and start to push your panties down your legs.

“Jesus.” He exhales roughly, his movements speeding up a hell of a lot more now that he has permission to touch you.

You lay down on the bed and slowly spread your legs, watching him palm himself through his boxers, “I want you to taste me.”

“With fucking pleasure.” Dave groans, quick to push down his boxers and he kneels on the bed. “I’ve missed the taste of your sweet pussy, tasting you cum for me.”

“Shut up and do it then,” you order as his hot breath ghosts over your thighs.

“Bossy.” He nips your thigh before he winks at you and lowers his mouth to your cunt.

“Don’t tease,” you beg as he places his mouth on your soft flesh.

He doesn’t. He gives you exactly what you want. Slow, thorough drags of his tongue through your folds so he can make sure he tastes every inch of your cunt.

Within seconds he has you squirming beneath him, lapping at you like a man starved as you moan his name over and over again, “please Dave,” you start to beg, desperate to feel release for the first time in weeks, feeling no shame in how quickly he has you on the edge.

You are still so sweet, so innocent and it makes his cock throb. Your body rocking down for more of his touch along with the breathless moans of his name. Dave dips his tongue inside you before curling up to suck your clit into his mouth. One hand letting go so he can push three fingers inside your tight little hole.

You gasp at the intrusion, the stretch overwhelming and simply incredible all at once. He curls his fingers up inside of you as his tongue teases against your clit, and you cum hard, taking the both of you by surprise.

Dave groans, pressing into you harder as the slick of you cum coats his fingers, wanting to make it so good for you. Absorbing all your sounds and basking in them.

“Dave,” you whine as his tongue refuses to let up, continuing to lick your bundle of nerves, despite your whimpering.

Dave just hums, eyes flickering up to watch you squirm. Your eyes flutter and are not able to stay open as you try to not push him away.

“It’s too much,” you whimper as he doubles down on his efforts, flicking your clit with his tongue and thrusting his fingers in and out of your heat and pulling your second orgasm from you with a smirk across his face,  “No more, I just want you inside of me.”

Dave grunts, unhappy that he can’t pull orgasms out of you until you’re a mess, completely melted into the bed. But he’s also aware of the fact that he’s getting a second chance right now so he lets go of your clit and kisses it, groaning at how slick his fingers squelch when he pulls them out of your pussy and shuffles to kneel between your thighs. “You want me inside you, little girl?” He asks huskily, wrapping his wet hand around his cock and slowly jerking himself.

“I need you inside of me,” you say as you wet your lips, watching him slowly stroke his cock. “I want to feel you deep inside of me.”

“Fuck.” Dave doesn’t tell you the truth. That if he fucks you again, he’s not letting you go. Instead, he nods, shifting so that he is hovering over you and smirking as he slides the head of his cock around your clit, teasing it until you whine before he lines himself up.

“Don’t tease,” you beg, desperate to feel him inside you again for the first time in weeks. “I need you, Dave. I need this.”

“I’ll always give you what you need, baby girl.” He vows, slowly pushing his hips forward and dropping his head down to hang between his shoulder blades as he groans out your name.

The stretch of him always makes you wince, a little jolt of pain that promises so much more pleasure. One of your hands comes up to touch his face gently gripping his jaw as he fills you to the hilt. “Make me feel good,” you whisper as you pull his face down towards yours, needing to feel his lips on top of yours.

It’s the best order that he could ever be given. Normally, he would take it to heart, snapping his hips into you so brutally the bed would hit the wall. This time is different. This time the tempo of your slow, languid kisses is the same tempo of his hips. In no rush for it to end, Dave makes sure you feel every second of his cock dragging through your walls as he pulls back, only to fill you again just as slowly.

His slow pace is almost dizzying, every drag of his cock notches against that little spot of paradise inside of you, and you feel consumed by him in the best kind of way. All of your senses are occupied by him, the taste of his mouth lingers on your tongue, the warm inviting scent that is so uniquely Dave fills your nostrils, the soft grunts he gifts to you with every loving thrust flow into your ears, his eyes bore into yours and you feel his soft touch everywhere. His lips capture yours again and the second they part you’re spilling the words that have lived on your lips for what feels like forever, “I love you, Dave.”

Dave freezes. He knows you love him, he’s seen it, he’s felt it. But this is the first time he’s heard the words out of your mouth, directed towards him. 

He lowers himself to his elbows, pushing his arms under your back and gathering you close as he pushes deep. “Marry me.” He begs against your lips right before he kisses you with enough passion to steal his own breath.

“Yes.” You say against his plush lips, before you feel your walls begin to contract around him, your orgasm plummeting towards you both as he rocks himself in and out of you.

It’s perfect, you’re perfect. For the first time in weeks, Dave feels completely at peace, even as the demands of his body mount. Kissing and praising you softly while you tremble underneath him. Panting into your mouth when you are urging him to cum.

“Fill me up.” You say as you feel his cock start to throb against your walls. In this moment you know that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, and despite the fact you have a lot to work through, all you feel right now is safe.

“I love you.” Dave groans out, pushing deep and emptying himself into you, physically and spiritually with the most intense orgasm he’s ever had.

“I love you, too.” You say as you press your lips to his, “I really love you.” He moulds his lips to yours again, whilst wrapping his arms around you, his softening cock still comfortably nestled in your heat as he just holds you. Kissing you with as much passion as he can muster as you run one of hands up and down his spine and gently hold the back of his head with the other.

Dave shifts to his side and then his back, bringing you with him as you both roll over and you sprawl out over the top of him. Like his own personal blanket and he doesn’t want you to move.

You nuzzle your face into his neck as he reaches down to bring the blanket up over you both and you hum a sigh of contentment, “You feel like home, Dave York,” you mumble, voice thick with sleep as you drift off comfortably in his arms.

*

The two of you are tangled together, sleeping peacefully and would have continued to sleep if it weren’t for the sudden and demanding beating on the front door. Making you and Dave both jump and look around for a second before the doorbell starts peeling out incessantly as whoever is at Dave’s door demands to be acknowledged.

“Please don’t tell me you have a secret wife, I don’t know about,” you mumble as you watch him jump out of bed, and then you hear a voice you’d recognise from anywhere.

The banging on the door gets more incessant and your father’s voice bellows out over and over that he knows you’re in there.

“Shit, that’s my parents” you hiss as Dave pulls on his pants, whilst studying your face, “How the fuck did they find me so quickly?”

Dave shakes his head, wondering if they have tracked your phone. He doesn't say it outloud, but he had been tracking you with your permission, but who is to say they didn't do it without you knowing?

"Do you want to stay here?" He asks, knowing he will deny you are here and demand they leave if you want him to.

“Yes,” you answer almost instantly, “I want to stay with you.”

"No baby, I mean do you want to stay up here and I'll get them to leave." Dave clarifies, knowing that you might not be up for a confrontation with your parents.

You nod as the sound of your dad's banging gets louder and louder, “Please.”

Dave nods, leaning down and kisses you quickly before grabbing his jeans and rushing out of the room as he pulls it on. "I'M COMING!" He bellows as he thunders down the stairs and snatches the door open with the angriest scowl he can pull on his face. "What do you want?" He demands harshly, making the man at the door - your father - abruptly step back at his greeting.

“We are here for our daughter,” your dad announces, before straightening his spine and huffing out his chest, “And we aren’t leaving without her.”

"Your daughter?" Dave looks behind him and scoffs. "Don't see anyone but me here." He turns back, his eyes narrowed. "So I suggest you leave."

You hear your father bellow your name again and you sink under the blankets. 

“We have it on good authority that she left with you yesterday,” your dad challenges back, “And we aren’t going anywhere until she’s coming with us.”

"Lower your fucking voice." Dave barks, furious that your father would disturb his neighbors. He shakes his head, knowing that playing dumb won't work, so he switches tactics. "Last time I checked, your daughter is an adult and can go where she pleases, with whom she pleases."

“Our daughter is engag—.” Your dad begins to yell as Dave takes a step towards him. Seizing her opportunity, your mother immediately pushes her way through the small gap Dave leaves in the door. 

She screams your name, the shrillness of her voice sending a shiver throughout your body, “Get downstairs now, do not make me come up there.” 

You groan as you kick the blanket off of you and roll out of bed. Bending down and grabbing Dave’s shirt from yesterday. You hear Dave yell as your father barges his way into his house, and starts bellowing your name. Slipping on his shirt, you slowly make your way down the hall and to the top of the stairs.

Dave huffs, pushing past the older couple to stand at the bottom of the stairs. A silent sentinel between you and your parents. He can see the abject horror on your parents faces and doesn't give a shit as long as you are okay. "You need to leave." He demands again, crossing his arms over his chest.

The sound of your fathers disgust hits your ears like a tonne of bricks falling right in front of you, “You need to leave,” you echo, “Dave’s right.”

"Dave?" Your mother's voice cut through the air like a knife. "Your professor? You call him Dave? You're sleeping with him!" Her face is a mixture of horror and shame, looking at you like you have killed her.

You make your way down the stairs and stand next to Dave, “I am an adult,” you say, your voice shaky as not sounding anywhere as brave as you’re willing it to, “And I want you to leave.”

“You’re a whore,” your father immediately counters back, “Dressed in his clothes… Sleeping in his bed.”

His words feel like a bucket of ice water being dumped on your head, and you look over at Dave, his face contorted in anger and his hands balling up in fists.

You reach over and grab one of his hands, “Get out of our house.”

You are the only thing holding him back from tossing both of your parents out of his house on their asses. He knows you love them still, despite trying to control your life. "We are going to the school." Your father hisses, righteous indignation pouring off of him in stinking waves. 

Dave barks a laugh and shakes his head, smirking angrily at the other man. "No you won't." He sneers. "To tell them that two consenting adults are sleeping together?" He asks, aware that you could possibly be tossed out for violating the morality oaths the school has. Firing him would be more difficult since he has tenure, but not impossible. Still, your parents won't risk others finding out. Their pride was more important than their daughter. 

"You would have to tell them that your daughter isn't pure. That you failed as a Godly example. People would find out, people always talk. Wonder what kind of house you ran." He taunts, moving his hand from under yours and he wraps it around your waist, pulling you against him protectively. "And you will not talk to her again until you apologize for calling her a whore."

Your mother takes a step towards you and shakes her head, “Go upstairs, get dressed and get in the car,” she orders, ignoring Dave and narrowing her eyes on you, “We can tell Joshua and his family that we found you in a hotel, and this little mistake—.”

“No,” you yell back at her, “You can call me a whore. You can get me kicked out of the college I didn’t want to go to in the first place, but you will not call my fiancé a mistake. The only mistake I’ve made was not sticking up to you both sooner. So leave. Go back home and go tell everyone that your perfect little daughter is nothing but a filthy little whore.”

"Fiancé." Your father bellows in anger, puffing up again. "Your fiancé is the boy we picked for you. Not this, this - man!" He scoffs. "He doesn't want you. He wanted to taint you, to get you to sin. Spoil you for your husband. The girl told us about him."

“The girl? What girl?” you ask, “What are you talking about? And again. I am an adult. I don’t need you to pick a boy for me.”

"You are our daughter!" Your mother shrieks, spit flying from her mouth as she screams at you. "We decide what is best for you, you disobedient child!"

"The girl. The one that said she was in Bible study with you." Your father answers, ignoring his wife's outburst.

“Deandra?” You say with a laugh, “The girl that’s been trying to fuck Dave since the first day of class?”

You turn to face you Mom and shake your head, “Yes your daughter, but not your goddamn property. Just leave. Now. I’m not going with you. I’m not marrying Joshua and I’m not spending the rest of my life too scared to speak up anymore.”

Dave is proud of you, immensely proud of you for standing up for yourself. Looking over at you with a smile and nod of encouragement before he looks back at your parents. "You can leave now and we will talk later on when you've calmed down. Or I will call the police and have you arrested." He tells them, his tone flat and serious. "Your choice."

“If you don’t come with us now,” your father says after pulling your mother back to his side, “You will never be welcome in our home again.”

Dave squeezes your hand and you can sense he’s about to snap but before he has a chance you give your dad a little shrug, “I was never really welcome in the first place.”

“You truly are a disappointment,” your father says as he grabs your mom's hand and leads her towards the door, “When he wakes up bored of you and you have nothing and nowhere to go, don’t come running back to us.”

“Jesus.” Dave strides to the door, making sure that your parents are barely on the other side before he slams it and locks it. Turning back to you with a look of compassion and sympathy as you stand there on the last step of the staircase, looking lost. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” He murmurs, rushing back over to you to pull you into his arms.

The tears that you expect you start welling up in your eyes, don’t come, instead a wave of relief floods through as you nuzzle your face in his neck, “I love you, Dave.“

“I love you.” He wants to assure you that none of what your parents said will come true. To tell you that you have nothing to worry about, but he will do that later. Right now, he just holds you. Needing you close and letting the relief of you staying with him course through his veins. There had been a moment where he thought you would give into them.

You rest your forehead against his relishing in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, before whispering “Chocolate chip pancakes?”

He chuckles softly, knowing that you need something comforting right now and he will give you whatever you want. “Pancakes sound perfect, sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead and pulls back to look into your eyes. “Extra chocolate chips.”

[Five Years Later]

The sound of your twin daughters giggling happily fills the air as Dave dumps another bucket of sand in front of them, whilst insisting that he’s going to build them a castle fitting for his little princesses. 

A smile spreads across your face as you finally feel ready to reply to the email that has been sitting unanswered in your inbox for days. 

You rest your free hand on your growing bump and the sun immediately reflects off the gorgeous ring on your finger. You open the camera app and snap a photo of the bump housing your unborn son, your ring, the back of your girls heads and a gleaming Dave staring up at you with the most loving smile splashed across his face. 

You attach the photo and simply type back,

Hello, 

I have all the family I could ever need right here with me, so no, no you can’t meet my children. 

I couldn’t protect myself from you both for so many years, but I will make sure I keep them safe from the hatred you spew under the guise of religion.

Despite everything, I wish you both well. 

Goodbye.

*

Looking up at you, Dave is once again struck by how serene you look. Perched on a lounger with your toes in the sand with the umbrella overhead, you are basking in the warm sun without being overheated whilst looking like an angel in your white bikini. His son on display underneath your breasts. 

Five years since that horrible night where your parents disowned you and left you with Dave, he hopes you’ve never regretted a day of it. 

Marrying quietly at the courthouse, the two of you had very deliberately started your life together. Dave taking another position at a different college, one that didn’t hold bitter memories for you. Your own education now firmly in your hands and he had meant what he said when you would do what you wanted. 

The girls were born three years ago, his princesses, and he adored coming home to you and them every night. Now, the next one - your prince -  is on the way to complete your little family.

Dave has everything he’s ever wanted. Almost. He sends you a small, dirty wink before turning his attention back to the girls. Later tonight, he’ll corrupt you just a little bit more.

[madmilkproductionplant]

me when emesis blue medic-

you are so real for that

i need him tied up with his own rosary, whimpering, shaking, knowing that once he feels my touch he can never go back to his old god because he belongs to me now and i’m the one he’ll worship

i’d kiss him hard, running my tongue along his sharp teeth and pushing my thigh between his, feeling him moan into my mouth at the slightest friction because he’s been untouched for so long and fuck, he’s so sensitive

i want to hear his stuttering gasps when i push inside him, feel the shock run through his body when i find the spot where it feels best and hit it over and over just to watch his brain melt

god i would edge him for so long, promise him that he’ll still be holy just so long as he doesn’t come, his face dripping tears and his cock dripping pre as he struggles to hold it together under my unforgiving hands and mouth

[thetragicallynerdy]

snippet from it never goes away (but it'll all work out)

AN: This is from an OFMD fic I've been working on for a long time, in which Jim gets a long term concussion/acquired brain injury after getting knocked out in S1E10. It goes up on Ao3 tomorrow (June 9) as part of NeurOFMDivergent Pride Week!!

It’s not a surprise when the last shreds of your faith finally fall away. They’ve been clinging for years like the barnacles on a ship’s hull, heavy and unwanted. Breaking away piece by piece, but still weighing you down.

Your faith should have dissolved when you were a child. There’s no questioning the way that the slaughter of your family planted seeds of doubt, in the way that loss and grief and rage so often do. But revenge is a heady thing, and divine revenge even more so. Your Nana taught you to pray with a knife in your hand, rosary beads bruising your tiny palms. You left the convent with no love for the divine, but instead a burning devotion, a holy anger. Your grief has always been a powerful thing.

But then you slit your father’s killer’s throat, taste his blood in your mouth, and find no absolution. God has nothing to do with the steadiness to your hand or the quickness of your step. And although you have no guilt, and no regret, you know that whatever you’re feeling isn’t the salvation Nana said the Siete Gallos’ blood would bring you.

So your mission slows. Because you get lost, a little, and find a pretty boy with a pretty smile who looks like the sun. You try, one last time, to carry out your revenge. But you get told to seek a better way, so you do. You stop looking for vengeance. You come home, following the sunrise and finding Oluwande at the end of it. And your faith falls away, because it was so tied into your anger, your mission. When you set both aside, letting your grief settle into something that feels more like hope, you find that there is no desire to follow the religion that has felt like little more than a burden. Divine revenge had been all that kept you there and believing in the first place. And now God has no place in your life, not really. Hasn’t it been years since you’ve prayed?

But when you first wake up in the hold, head all but split open, your sunlight stolen from you – oh, you pray . Head pressed into your hands, hope a ruined thing, with tears in your eyes and salt on your lips. You pray, and you pray, and you pray.

Nothing happens. God doesn’t send his angels to save Oluwande, or to heal your ruined head. There’s no salvation here, and no protection. Even divine revenge has been stolen from you. You can’t kill Izzy Hands, or Blackbeard, or Fang. Can’t even get yourself off of this godforsaken ship. When you try and clutch at the tattered remains of your faith, you find nothing left. God doesn’t provide any hope or comfort or grace. Maybe he never did. It feels like abandonment, even though you were the one to run away first.

But you’re still furious at God. Furious that you did your duty, and followed the path laid out before you, and it brought you nothing but ruin. You slaughtered the wicked, soaked the earth with their blood, and all you’ve been given in return is a broken heart and a body that keeps betraying you. Where is the healing you were promised? Where is the justice in this?

You don’t throw out the rosary looped through your belt. But you do stop counting the beads.