#tw priest kink

[undercover-sub]

Hiii! I gotta ask, if it's not too personal! How'd the religion / priest kink come about? Have you played into it at all?

Im fascinated, I wanna know everything! 😄

Heyaaa! Good question, I wish I had a proper answer for it 😅

I did grew up catholic (some people say that explains everything^^) but I'm not religious and I've excommunicated quite some time ago.

I think it's not really the religious aspect of it that I personally find enticing, it's the imbalance of power. And the idea of worship that comes along with it. There's just something about the piety of a priest (and their vows) being broken for you or their own "impure" urges that does something for me. The idea that they can corrupt you due to their position of power - or the other way around (like the idea of them being so attracted and/or enamored by you that they turn away from god?!?). And I'm a huge fan of body worship, both giving and receiving. Also, just so the list is complete: men (or women, or enbys) wearing cassocks, for some reason I can't actually name, are freaking attractive 🙈

I haven't really played into it though. Loads of people are not really into it or find it weird, which I can understand. And if anything, both parties should enjoy it. Maybe I'll be lucky to find somebody who's into it one day.

Thanks so much for the ask! 😊

[doing-something-unholy]

Im kinda into the idea of pretending to be a super strict tradcath priest and have a pretty sinner pin me down and fuck the bad attitude out of me.

I start out angry and defiant, how dare they try to touch me like that, how wicked and sinful do you have to be to lust after priests? My chastising doesn't seem to phase them, they aren't stopping their advance until I'm backed up against the altar.

They got the drop on me and cuffed me and I'm trapped with no way to stop them from putting their hands up my cassock, and I can't stop them from finding the place between my legs where my body is reacting to their touch against my will. I'm demanding they stop this at once, for the sake of their soul to repent, but now there’s a tremble in my voice and they grin at me like a shark that smells blood in the water.

Maybe they call me the sinful one, I was just so tempting they had to touch me, I'm the pretty priest that inspired lust in them. And look how I'm reacting to it, hard already and failing to keep still and bucking into their touch.

It'll end with me bent over the altar, pressed into it with a hand on my back. My pants are long gone and my cassock hiked up so they can fuck me mercilessly, each sinfully good thrust making tears fall from my eyes as I beg God to forgive me for how good it feels to be sodomized.

Maybe afterwards they should deliver the Lord's punishment themselves, and flog me, still tied to the altar with cum dripping down my thighs, while I admit that I'm a whore and beg for mercy.

[gravidwithlore]

Thinking about pregnancy in religion, but instead of being viewed as shameful, pregnancy is celebrated, revered, and considered holy in itself.

Priests who physically take on their parish's sins and wicked thoughts, their mass and confessions include them being bent over the altar and bred by the worshippers. Their prayers come out as moans of pleasure and rapture, the rhythm of their hymns staccato-ed by the rhythm of hips roughly slapping against each other. When the priest starts to grow round with child they are celebrated, the child considered holy and pure, a redemption of their sins, the village spiritually cleansed through the time the priest and holy vessel has spent gestating their baby. When a priest gives birth to multiples their parish is considered to be even more blessed with each additional child brought into the world. One knows a good and holy priest when they see one surrounded by a gaggle of children, possibly with a toddler on their hip or a babe feeding at their chest, and already unmistakably pregnant again already.

Or priests who protect the people from demons, but exorcisms don't involve dispelling away the demons presence entirely. They use themselves as bait for the demons instead, to distract them from innocent or wayward villagers.

One way they could do this is by utilizing their holy symbol, carved and hallowed for this very purpose, which allows them to draw the demons essence into themselves. But because of their training and holy power, this manifests as a pregnancy. The priest will be a holy vessel to purify and redeem the unholy force within, to eventually be born cleansed and new. The length of the pregnancy depends on how powerful the demon was, low power baser demons take a few months, but extremely powerful demons could possibly take years and years. The families who have experienced exorcisms this way often adopt the child born and raise it as a sign of their own devotion to their religion and gratefulness to their priest.

Or if you want to get down and dirty about it, the priests distract any demons found torturing their parishioners by spreading their own legs and compelling the demons to let out their frustrations and rage on them instead. Taking on the burden of being the demons plaything, being used to it's satisfaction during its time on the mortal plane, and often left waddling through their pews with the demons spawn. The people of the village recognize and deeply appreciate their priests sacrifice, and the community come together to support them in whichever way they may need. Even if what they need is obviously influenced by the unholy essence within (which is to say what they need is often to get fucked 25/8)

Paladins who worship and fight for deities of fertility and growth, birth and prosperity, life and bounty. When they have done great deeds on behalf of those they worship, they are often given the blessing of a belly steadily growing round with their demi-god offspring. Sometimes these paladins take it as a sign to retire and raise their new family somewhere safe, their active duty over though they continue their loyal and steadfast worship of their diety. Some continue to adventure, a bit more carefully then before with the little ones tagging along as they travel, the children always letting off a faint holy essence from the strong protective magic both parents weave about them. A paladin of these deities who have large families, are surrounded at all times by children of all ages, are respected as legendary paladins indeed.

A paladin of these deities who has been serving for years and has never been blessed in this way by their deity are often considered suspicious, and rumors swirl that they have forsaken their oath a long long time ago, if they even took it seriously to begin with.

Pregnancy out of wedlock, not a source of shame and impurity, but instead considered a blessing of a union. Some stricter sects won't even allow a betrothal unless a couple has already conceived and at least one of them is clearly growing round with child. It is so normalized and expected that when romantics think of a traditional wedding, they picture themselves waddling down the aisle, full of their beloved's child. Their lover watching them with unconcealed pride and affection, their vows reiterating their commitment to cherishing and growing their new family. The strictest sects sometimes won't even allow the wedding to commence until they're clearly in labor, only allowed to struggle and groan down the aisle once they're in active labor. Spreading their legs and screaming their child (or children) into the world on the altar, held and encouraged by their soon to be spouse. The cries of the couples firstborn ringing through the church halls holds greater weight than any spoken vow.

A temple of monks hidden deep in the mountains, their acolytes training culminates in embarking on a pilgrimage. These new monks are tasked to give their bodies to whoever may desire it, to bring people joy and pleasure no matter how briefly it lasts, to be subservient and pliant to those they serve on their journey. Some pilgrimages take longer than others, but they almost always return waddling, heavy with child and out of breath from the trek through the steep mountain path, but with beaming and satisfied smiles, confident in their beliefs and teachings in way they hadn't been when they left. Its not even uncommon for a monk returning from pilgrimage to come back holding a curious young child's hand, a toddler secured with soft cloth to their back or front, their belly already gravid and low, obviously on the verge of giving birth where they stand. These monks are considered to have found extra enlightenment on their journey and are heralded back as among the wisest of their number.

Crusaders who travel, not to conquer a land, but to connect cultures and create bonds between lands. Instead of meeting head on in a gritty battlefield, meetings are held in much more comfortable places filled with soft pillows and silks. Instead of the sharp sound of swords clanging against each other, or the metallic sound of armor and shields moving; cries of pleasure and the wet slapping of hips permeate the air. A crusader who comes home with a distinct gravid waddle are celebrated, but the most revered and successful crusaders are the ones that never return, but instead send letters home about their new home and gush about how they're almost due with multiples, but are already excited for their new spouse to knock them up all over again so they can continue to grow their new family.

The head of a religious order, considered to be the closest to their deity over anyone else, always being tasked to carry and bear their deity's offspring. When a new leader is chosen or elected, the final ritual of ushering in their new era is always a consummation of the renewed commitment to being they worship. The leader cannot make any serious changing or sweeping reforms until it has been confirmed by the council that their belly is beginning to round out with child, until then all their decisions need to be council approved. The proof of their divine leadership takes time to grow, divine beings are practically immortal, so it makes sense their offspring take a long time to grow. Symptoms such as morning sickness, cravings, and mood swings are closely analyzed to predict the future of their reign. Their libido however is analyzed as a litmus test to how close their relationship is to their deity. Only their deity may enter them in the same way they did so consummate their new relationship, but it is rare for their deity to make an appearance, so the leader must make do with their worshippers tongues and fingers. Those with especially high libido have been known to use statues and other instruments used in divine worship to fuck themselves senseless, panting from the exhertion of worship, eyes rolled back to the heavens, singing their garbled praises to the deity that blessed their body with it's heavy holy offspring.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

🌶️

A priest gojo

I don't care anymore if I'll burn in hell for this request but I am craving for IT

I can't get it off my miind

Those "Forgive me Lord", "fuck, your pussy is so good for me" has been haunting my ass for ages. I'll give you my house, my cat ⁿᵒᵗ ʳˡˡʸ, my keychains??? and a kiss on your forehead

I sat on this ask for a few days trying to figure out how to go about it. Mostly because well, I've had a priest Geto in the works for about a month now LMAO.

I figured this was my sign to make it an series!! We're going to do a one shot of each of the men as fucked up priests. AH IM EXCITED!!

Now Presenting, Part One in Sins of the Church...

Starring Corrupted! Priest Satoru Gojo

Satoru saw hellfire in your eyes. He saw damnation and eternal torment. He saw his destruction. And he wanted all of it. He could feel his soul burning out of his chest every time you batted your pretty eyelashes at him, feel his morals weaken whenever you smile, and feel himself lose control every time you stood next to him.

And then he had to remind himself that all of those thoughts were borderline blasphemy. He was a member of the clergy for christ sakes, he shouldn't be thinking of a member of his flock like this. He shouldn’t be fantasizing about you bouncing on his cock while he fucks his own fist. No amount of repenting could remove that sin from his soul. But no amount of denial could remove his desperation for you either. He had never been a phenomenal priest, he was a drinker, took the lord's name in vain, and was far from celibate. But he was trying to do better. He was trying to remove those vices from his life. But you brought out the sinner in him. And if he was going to be a sinner, he might as well win with you. 

This is what ran through Satoru’s head as he sat in the confessional booth, bored out of his mind. He knew it was important for him to be available for this service from 6 to 9 everyday, but it didn’t mean he liked it. He checked his phone. It was 7:30. Fuck. He was about to text one of the other clergy members to see if one of them would take over for him (probably not) when he heard the church doors open. He suppressed a groan of annoyance as he waited to get this confession over with.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned. My last confession was…I don’t think I’ve ever confessed, actually.” The sweet voice rang in his ears. Ho-ly SHIT Satoru knew that voice! It was the voice he had imagined moaning and desperate under him. “Y/n.” He thought to himself.

“Worry not my child,” He said, desperate to hear what you were sinning about. You were the star of his parish, what did you have to confess? Did you say Heck? “You’re at confession now. Confess, and we can go from there.”

“I’m afraid I’ve been having..impure thoughts Father. Thoughts about someone I should not be thinking of in this way.” Jealousy shot through Satoru like a bullet, ripping through his very being. Someone else had caught your eye then. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected anything else. Still, The knowledge that you wanted someone other than him left him seething with rage. He had to know who took his angel from him.

“Who are you having these thoughts about my child?” Satoru asked, knowing you’d answer. You were a good girl, you never said no. But, you did go quiet. Satoru didn’t like that. He was about to prompt you again when you broke the silence. 

“I’ve been having thoughts about Father Gojo. In my dreams he comes to me and I see him in, well…pornographic ways. I know I shouldn’t have these dreams, or think these thoughts, but I can’t make them stop.” Motherfucker, maybe there was a God. Satoru found himself pressed into your shared wall of the confessional, hanging onto every word you said. Your small, desperate tone went straight to his dick, and he felt it twitch with every word you said.

“What happens in these dreams?” He asked. He had to know. He wanted all of the details. He wanted to know if you were as desperate for him as he was for you. How graphic was your imagination? 

“I find myself with him alone in the church. He puts his hands on my waist and lays me on one of the pews. I feel him kiss my jaw, my neck, my breasts..sometimes he puts his fingers in me, other times he just, well…has his way with me. And in the dreams it feels so euphoric, like a blessing from the holy father himself, I-” NO no, keep going! He didn’t stop you! “He always finishes inside of me. The dreams are so vivid that when I awake, I can still feel his seed seeping out of me.” 

Satoru’s cock was impossibly hard and he was struggling to keep his breath even. The passion of damnation burned through his veins. He wanted nothing more than to make your dreams come true. “Have you ever been with a man in this way?” He asked, bracing himself for the answer.

“No father,” You said, shaking your head even if he couldn’t see it. Good girl, he knew you were saving yourself for him. “It’s why these dreams are so odd to me,” you continued, “I’ve never experienced these things when I’m awake, but when I’m asleep it feels so real and vivid I sometimes wake up thinking it might have been real.” 

God Satoru wished it was real. If he closed his eyes he could feel your pussy quivering around his raw cock, hear you begging for him, feel your nails in his back. Shit. He palmed himself through his black slacks, trying to relive some of the pressure you had put him under. He tried to remind himself that he was a fucking priest Goddamn it! But he was a man first. And he needed some release. “I see. Well my dear, your sins are great. And as you know, the penance you must pay has to be greater.” He said, trying to sound as composed as he possibly could considering how desperate he was. 

“I’m willing to do anything father.” You said, all too eager. “Fuck don’t say that.” Gojo thought. It was the last thought of doubt that ran through his mind. He wanted to see just how far you were willing to go. 

“Come here my dear, meet me at the pews.” He said, giving in to the devil on his shoulder. You were a little shocked. As far as you knew, the priest wasn’t supposed to see you at all during confession, it was anonymous. You must have done something truly terrible that the priest had to see you to absolve your sins. Shame filled you as you exited your booth, followed by the most intense embarrassment you had ever felt in your life when you saw Father Gojo sitting in a pew.

“Father!” You gasped, as you rushed over to him. You didn’t even notice how flustered he looked, nor the darkness in his eyes as he stared at your chest. “I-I’m so-”

“On your knees child.” Gojo said, cutting you off before you could start rambling. You paused for a moment, before obeying. He was a priest after all, he had to know what he was doing. Maybe this was all a part of your penance. Gojo placed a gentle hand on the side of your face, and you instantly melted into it, bringing a smile to the clergy member's face. You really did have an angelic face.

“You’ve committed the sin of pleasure my dear.” Gojo cooed, “And to absolve yourself of that sin, you have to give pleasure.” Oh, so this was a part of your penance! 

It was also complete bullshit, Satoru knew that. But fuck, your lips were so pretty. He wasn’t trying to think of any smooth plausible reason for this to happen, he just wanted to make it happen. “Undo my belt.” He instructed, and you did so with only a slight moment of hesitation. “Atta girl, keep goin’.” He instructed, watching as you unbuttoned his slacks and pulled down his zipper. You paused, looking at the way his cock strained against his boxers. You had barely even kissed a boy, and yet you were about to be face to face with a cock that belonged to your priest. 

“Don’t get shy on me now Angel,” Gojo said, gently tangling his fingers into your hair. “You weren’t shy in the booth. This is what you want, isn’t it?” That was a wonderful question actually. This part never happened in your dreams. And honestly, the thought of putting someone's privates in your mouth was disgusting. But, some dark, gruesome part of you did want this. You wondered what he would look like, what he would taste like. You bit your lip and freed the fathers dick from his underwear, earning yourself an audible moan from him. 

“Atta girl…” Satoru groaned, moving your head to take him in. He grinned as you opened your mouth, and damn near came when you finally put your mouth on him. He wasn’t going to be able to enjoy this for long. He wanted something more than some childish head. Though, it was cute to watch you choke on his cock as you tried to take him all it. In any case, spit made for decent lube. 

He moaned softly, his head falling to the back of the pew as he guided you up and down on his cock. He looked back down at you and fuck. The sight of you looking up at him, tears filling your doe eyes, squishing your legs together to try and quell any arousal as you struggled to take in his cock was far too much for him. You were his ticket to damnation, he knew it. He was going to burn in hell for you.

“You’re so good,” He said as he pulled you off of his cock. He got you off your knees and sat you on his lap. “So good for me.” His words filled your head and turned into arousal. You felt electrified with shame and desire. “Lord forgive me,” You thought as he slipped your panties from under your skirt.“Please, I just can’t stop myself.” 

“Have you ever been touched here?” Satoru asked as he ran a finger up your slit, sending shivers up your spine as you tensed around him. You shook your head no. “Have you ever touched yourself  here?” He asked as you represented the question. The answer was yes, but to little results. When you were a teenager, you were curious, sure. But you never got the Euphoric feeling you had read about, so you stopped. As an adult you hadn’t touched yourself in years. 

“Not often.” You said, giving the father the condensed version. Satoru nodded, taking in all the information you had given him. 

“Do you want me to make you feel good Y/n?” He asked into your neck, his nimble fingers finding your clit and massaging circles into it. You yelped with shock. Your entire lower region had electricity pulsing through it, and you swore you felt your pussy clench. You nodded desperately. Satoru stopped moving.

“Not good enough Angel, I need you to use your words.” He said. He knew he was already putting you in a fucked up situation for his own pleasure, he wasn’t about to make it worse by not being 100% sure you also wanted this. 

“Yes, Father, please, I want you to touch me so bad it hurts!” You whined out for him, needing this more than anything. Satoru hummed his approval as he went back to rubbing your clit with his thumb. His fingers now had a new goal in mind. He probed at your weeping pussy. 

“You’re so wet for me angel..” Satoru hummed into your ear, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a slut.” He whispered to you as he slipped a finger into your aching cunt. Slut. That word sent a flurry of emotions through your chest but the main one being desire. You wanted to be his slut. You wanted him to fill you up, to use and abuse you. You wanted to be Father Gojos fucktoy.

Those were thoughts you’d unpack later. Right now, The father had slipped another finger into you, and you were focused on trying to accommodate the stretch. It felt so good but you wanted so much more.

“Father please, I need more.” You whimpered out, shooting lightning through Gojos head. “I need you, Father, please. F-fuck me.” you were so unsure about saying fuck but you were absolutely possitive you needed a cock in you right at that moment. 

Satoru couldn't believe what he was hearing. A part of him thought he might have died and gone to heaven. But, he knew that probably wasn’t the case. Heaven was sinless and pure. There was nothing pure about you in this moment. You were the embodiment of sin and he wanted nothing more than to drown in you. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely, who am I to say no to my Angel?” He purred as he ripped off your blouse and skirt, leaving you bare and exposed to him. He had to take a moment of pause. You were divine in every sense of the word and he needed to take a moment to drink it all in. He found his new religion and it was you. “Lord forgive me, but lust calls to me,” he thought. 

He lined you up and slowly began to lower you onto his cock. You yelped softly, digging your nails into his shoulders as he stretched you out in ways you had never been before. It burned like hellfire but you were too lost in the pleasure to think about the pain. Somehow though all the discomfort you still felt a euphoria like no other.

Satoru couldn’t take his eyes off from where the two of you were now connected. He watched his cock disappear into your tight, weeping cunt, a droplet of pink blood flowing down as a sign that you were now tied to him forever. It was nothing close to what he could have fantasized of, it was so much better. He knew you’d feel good, but he couldn’t imagine how good. 

“Your pussy is so good for me.” He moaned as he bottomed out, pulling you into a passionate and intense kiss. Your head was filled with cotton, you felt yourself lose touch with everything that wasn't Gojo. Gojo, Gojo, Gojo, Your body craved him in ways you didn’t know possible. This was as close to God as you had ever been in all your years as a devout catholic. Your lower waist exploded as he bucked into you, a string of whimpers and moans leaving your mouth as you clung to him. Every stroke of his thick cock pet your g-spot, making you see stars and hear angels singing. “How could something so sinful feel so right?” Was your last coherent thought as Gojo fucked you into oblivion. 

Gojo was absolutely intoxicated by your warmth. He tried drugs before, but none of them could compare to the way your pussy pulled him in. The way your body molded itself to his, the way your breathing fell in perfect timing with his. He didn’t give a shit anymore if he was going to be damned for eternity, He found heaven already, and it was you. 

You felt a sting start to tightly coil inside of your stomach and your legs stiffen. The sparks in your lower abdomen were becoming full on fireworks. “G-Gojo, I think I’m c-clo-!” You didn’t get to finish that sentence before the string snapped inside of you. Your brain released all of its dopamine and ecstasy reserves into your bloodstream, and your vision went white with pleasure. You felt yourself scream out for God, or Gojo. You weren’t sure exactly which one, but you knew that in that moment there really was no difference to you. 

Satoru wasn’t far behind you at all. The moment your cunt began to constrict around him he knew he was finished. A few more thrusts and he was cumming deep inside you, biting your neck to try and keep his volume down. He for sure left a bruise. You both sat there, him clinging onto you like a drowning man clings to a life preserver, you hanging limply off of him like a used doll, both of you trying to catch your breath. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck FUCK. All at once it hit Satoru what he had just done. Shit. he could feel his soul burning in hell already, everything about this felt dirty. He never should have touched you, he-

And then you sighed softly, and slightly readjusted yourself to be more comfortable in his arms. You were so small compared to him, so delicate. It made his heart swell. Nothing involving you could have been dirty, he decided. It was just the catholic guilt talking. He finally lifted you up and pulled out, chuckling softly at the little whine you let out.

“Come on angel,” He purred, “Let’s get you dressed and get you home.”

[dead-air-radio]

Sigh thinking about cults. And my religious truama tw.

Just imagining being super depressed and very emotional and having someone come into my life that is so normal and unassuming at first. Slowly they become a part of my everyday life and their little gestures make me trust them more and more and they are so caring that I become so codependent on them so when they start asking for weirder and weirder things I don't think anything of it. They start managing my diet but I assume they're just trying to help me and they know I want to lose weight even if they feed me weird things.

Or they start having me wear a certain thing almost as a claim. Before it turns into me being so dependent on them I'd do anything and so when I get so sad and sleepy but have the urge to cut I don't see it as a problem when they offer to do it for me. Slicing at my legs before kissing them. At this point they're so friendly and guiding they love to brush my hair and give me things and do things I'd usually do by myself like bathe me. Until I'm just some little lamb for them.

I'm so trusting of them when they say they have smth for me I think nothing about why I need to dress in the white gown they got me and all the jewelry they got me in the past as well as eat a piece of bread thay hes me woozey. And how they want me to wear bows in my hair and be bathed in a certain soap they like until we get into their car and they blindfold me for the surprise it's already Evening when we leave and once we get their they carry me to the surprise.

At first I assume we are just having a little romantic fire in the woods. I can hear the crunch under their feet from the leaves and the birds and other wild life. And the crackle of fire and the heat as we walk past it and I'm placed on smth like stone. When my blindfold is taking off I'm on an altar of sorts and there's a fire ahead of me as well as a bunch of people in masks. Of course I'm frightened holding onto the person I came with arm before they shush me. There's candles and statues around me as well as flowers and by the atlar is a bowl for offerings. The person sits beside me unphased as I cling to them, scared of what's happening. And they address the people. Not realizing he's a leader of the cult and all the jewelry and clothes they've been giving me are actually not only from them but his people as well. All their followers have known a out me for a long time giving them offerings to give the cult leaders little pet, his lamb. When he's done speaking to them he turns to me telling me to lay on the altar stone as he gets on top of me as the watchers look on. He cuts open my wrists while I whimper and shake and push against him confused. He cuts his wrists as well mixing his bleed with mine before licking at his wrists and he puts his wrist by my mouth for me to lick up as well.

Some of the followers that are dressed differently go on to give a spot of sermon as if I'm not whimpering behind them as the leader continues to assualt me and push up the white gown. The sermon is about needing to view the leader take what's his and have smth resemble the lamb and religious symbol of their cult and how I'm the image they should look up to cause the leader has chose me as his lamb to mark infront of them to make me his forever. Him cutting me open by carving his name into my stomach as he fucks me on the altar while his people watch

[fatherenoch]

It’s rare that claims of possession end up requiring an exorcism, but you’re quite the unlucky one, aren’t you? You’re not going anywhere - those chains are silver. I could kick you out of this poor thing’s body right now, but that wouldn’t be as fun. Normal touch won’t do much for you either…good thing I have all these holy things with me. How kind of you to possess such a lovely body. Too bad it burns at my touch now, hm.

You don’t deserve such kindness, demon, but I wish to be kind to the body of my parishioner that you inhabit, so I’ll prepare you a bit. Don’t talk back to me or I’ll shove my rosary down your throat. Just a bit of chrism oil on my fingers and I can stretch you open.

So pathetic to hear a supposedly powerful creature like you whimper at just some oil and a few touches. Let me pour some more on, use this whole vial up, just so I can hear it burn through your hisses. And stop struggling. Did you not sense something different about me? I would anticipate your kind to not be so naïve as to think every priest is pious.

That should be enough. Mm, I’ve been with this man whose body you’re in before, but this feels much better. Demonic presence usually makes the body run cold, but you bring the fire up with you. Don’t even think I’ll let you come from this. I’ll banish you, then summon you just to ruin you again. Then you’ll learn to only come when called.

I could keep you in this body, tied up with nothing to do but wait for when I return to use you. I bet you would like it. What did you make this man do, cheat on his partner, turn to other men, fall into sin? Or did you catch him in the act, enter him there? Did you do to him what I do to you now, fucking you as if it were the only thing you’re meant for?

If you make me come, maybe I’ll banish you. But you better start working for it.

[fatherrlascivious]

Both my monsterfucker brain and my priest kink brain has been thinking a lot about Silver Bullet recently, and I so badly wanna write or find a fic about a werewolf priest.

[holysaintscathedral]

[cannedbeefaroni]

ok to add on to that one eli sunday confessional booth thought….he would totally jerk off while ur confessing about how u touch urself

After several minutes of describing how you touch yourself in excruciating detail, your final confession is that the only person you think of while you do is Eli, and suddenly you hear strained groans and labored breaths from the other side. Maybe you’d go over to the other side and catch him exposed. And maybe then uh.... fuck him in the ass like he deserves 🥰

[doing-something-unholy]

Being wine drunk does sinful things to me, I want someone to take advantage of the effect it has on me. Please ignore my fake whining about "having vows" and pay more attention to the moans I can't hide and how wet I am. I want to be used so badly, but I need the excuse. I'm not breaking my vows if I'm drunk and it's not my fault. <3

[cupid-archives]

bless me father for i have sinned. forgive me for every lust filled touch against myself or another. for every dirty thought i think when i see a sliver of skin. for the taste of blood i crave, for the sounds of pain. forgive me father for the pleasure i get from listening to them suffer. for every unholy night for my own pleasure and the scratches left on my back.

[fatherenoch]

The way you dress is causing quite a disturbance at mass. Absolutely no modesty in the house of God, how sinful. If you are going to insist on showing yourself off, then let us have you commit to it. Wear the shortest, tightest clothes you have with nothing underneath to the next mass. See how everyone looks at you and knows what you are. I wouldn’t even bother stopping anyone who grabs at you, slides a hand up your thigh, presses against you. Your body will be part of the service, if you need to be so open with it.

Let all of your sin be shown bare.

[hedonism-anonymous]

I have such a religion kink.

Ritualistic sex for the purpose of worship, either a deity or your partner themself.

Fucking them on an altar in an empty, dimly lit cathedral. Them tied or chained to the altar, surrounded by candles. Maybe using them for convenient wax play.

Wearing a rosary during sex and letting it dangle in their face while you lean over them, letting the little crucifix hang from my throat and touch their chest as we fuck. Sitting up and letting the rosary hang between my tits, becoming a sexual and holy figure all by myself.

Fucking them on a sigil on the floor, surrounded by candles. Maybe we're summoning something. Maybe we're casting a spell. Maybe we're binding our souls together for eternity.

Riding them or letting them ride you in a confession booth. The soft, dim light filtering in through the screen as you both struggle to stay quiet.

Fucking a priest in the rectory, lust corrupting what's supposed to be a holy place, a holy building. Them betraying their sacred vow of celibacy and caving to their forbidden lust for you.

FUCK I love this shit.

[sethmacfarlanedeathpose]

Hows bout a priest doing a confessional for some unknown stranger, in a confession booth, so he can't see his face. The stranger tells the priest what kind of ungodly things he's been up to, then he explains his sexual ventures. How he goes town to town, sleeping with all sorts of men and women. The priest gets a little flustered by this revelation and then the stranger goes into detail about his doings, about how he marks his seed in each town he visits. Suddenly the Priest can feel something crawling up his leg, it's like a sort of mist leaking in under the wooden panel separating the booths. It reaches his hole and turns into a more tentacle like appendage, and begins fucking him. Once it slips out of him the priest feels lightheaded, but bloated. The stranger has gone. His seed has been left.

[artblogofanekophile]

Unholy {Diavolo x OC}

My priest kink was acting up and I needed an outlet.

Feel free to reblog, but please don't repost!

Captionless version below.