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onlyhuis · 11 months

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leaning on the everlasting arms

member | childhood best friend! pastor's son!joshua x f reader genre | angst, smut, some fluff, bible college au word count | 10.3k (my first fic over 10k wowie!!) synopsis | as kids growing up in the same church, you and joshua were inseperable, until you got to an age where it was considered immoral for girls and boys to be friends. when you find him again just before graduation, he's different than you remember; but so are you. content warnings | female reader, she/her, reader is implied to be smaller (i'm sorry), discussion of gender roles & religion, no religion is mentioned by name but it's heavily implied to be a form of christianity, reader & shua are both seniors in college, reader wears skirts/dresses but not really by choice, this whole thing is pretty blasphemous oops smut warnings | descriptions of female anatomy, virgin!joshua x virgin!reader, mutual masturbation, phone sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (reader receiving), hints of a voice kink, size kink, praise, begging, really vanilla missionary but it's hot, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, angel) notes | although i am no longer religious, this is partially based off of my own experiences with the extremely traditional christian church i was raised in. however, please keep in mind that this is fiction and does not reflect my beliefs nor joshua's beliefs so don't take the plot too seriously. this piece is not meant to discuss whether certain religions are "right" or "wrong" so please do not comment/send me asks trying to start a debate! we're all just here for a little sexy time with shua it's not that deep note #2 | for those who aren't familiar, the title is the name of a hymn and i thought it was funny bc joshua big sexy arms hehehe

as far back as you could remember, joshua was your closest friend.

his father was the pastor of the church your family went to, and as luck would have it you were both in the same grade, so it wasn’t long before you became inseparable. you saw him at minimum three times a week: sunday morning, sunday evening, wednesday evening.

you spent most of your childhood together. sitting next to each other at every service, sharing your bibles with each other whenever one of you left them at home, sneaking donuts away from the box at the table outside the sermon hall that was supposed to only be for the adults.

you did everything together, and told each other everything. that is, until you reached middle school. boys and girls weren’t allowed to sit in the same services anymore, and you had to stay in separate buildings for every church camp and conference.

the worst part was you didn’t even understand why. what did they think you were gonna do with him? kiss him? no amount of money in the world could get you to do that! joshua was your best friend. who else were you supposed to climb trees and build forts and sneak donuts with? kissing was stupid.

when you asked your mom about it, she told you the same thing everyone else did: about how men of god had a different path and needed to hear different messages in order to grow up to lead their own churches one day. you thought it was stupid. what if a woman wanted to lead a church, why are men the ones that have to do it? but she would just shake her head and tell you it's just the way things work in the church, you'll understand when you're older.

you were allowed near him less and less until the only time you were able to see him was at the after-service brunch with his family, and even then that began to happen less and less as the years went on.

and of course it was church rules, so there was no arguing with them because that would mean arguing with god, and who were you to question his authority? there would be no special exception for you, no matter how much you protested to your mom that you would never, ever think about joshua like that. in a fit of anger one day you blew up at her, shouting that she had had friends of the opposite gender when she was in high school, so why couldn’t you? it wasn’t fair. but she had just sighed and stared out the window, clearly ending the conversation. many years passed before she finally told you about her life before she came to church, recalling all the times she had been hurt by men she had loved and trusted. you understood then why she had wanted to keep you sheltered and safe, but you still didn’t agree. but then again, if you had been allowed to do what you wanted then maybe things would never have ended up the way they did. perhaps you have her to thank.

back then, all you could do was hold on to the little time you had with him until eventually you stopped seeing him altogether.

more summers passed and you started spending all of your time memorizing bible verses with your fellow “women of christ”, missing the way you used to spend your time with your best friend.

but then you went off to bible college like had always been planned for you, and everything changed. instead of continuing to follow the strict schedule that was laid out for you, you finally got a little taste of freedom, and you realized what you’d been missing all this time. everything that you’d been taught was sinful, evil, wicked, was what brought you more pleasure than you’d ever known was possible.

you still had to pretend to be a good girl for the people around you, who, for reasons you couldn’t comprehend, were still dedicated to their life of purity. or at least they acted like it. maybe everyone was secretly just like you, hiding their sins behind a friendly smile and a firm handshake every sunday morning.

you weren’t hurting anyone with the things you did in private, and the feeling of rebellion was a kind of satisfaction you didn’t know you were allowed to feel. you were an adult, making your own choices now and facing whatever consequences that came with them.

there was only one consequence. for some reason, all the impure thoughts you had always centered around joshua. no matter what dirty books you read or videos you watched, the man you always pictured giving it to you was joshua.

you hated that after all these years, everything still came back to him. you fought it, tried imagining actors or celebrities in his place instead; characters from your books and movies and shows, anyone but him. you wanted to save whatever memories you had left of him, think of him in a good light like you used to when you were younger, but the way he plagued your mind was worse than the ones in the book of exodus.

but now, in your final year of college, you thought you had finally gotten yourself under control.

that is, until you were leaving one of your bible lectures and all the control you’d convinced yourself that you had crumbled away in mere seconds when you saw a startlingly familiar face standing by the door. a face you hadn’t seen in far too long.

“joshua?”

“hey,” he says with a smile, like no time has passed at all. like it’s been hours since you’ve seen each other, not years.

there are so many things you want to say, so many things you want to ask him, but you’re frozen in place. why is he here? where has he been? how did he find you again?

“it’s been a while,” he says with an awkward laugh when you don’t say anything.

you nod, still in a daze. “yeah. quite a while.”

he smiles. “well, anyway, i’ve got a meeting to go to in a bit, but… i just wanted to see you.”

“oh,” you say. what else is there to say? what can you say to make up for the years lost that you’ll never get back?

he looks at his watch, the conversation clearly coming to an end.

“can i give you my phone number?” he says. a deep shade of pink creeps into his cheeks but he either doesn’t notice or purposely doesn’t acknowledge it. “maybe we can talk sometime, catch up.”

“i– yeah,” you manage. god, it’s so good seeing him again. “yeah, that would be really nice.”

you’ve given up on homework for the night, spending your entire afternoon in a daze since you ran into joshua.

so many years, yet you still can’t get his smile out of your head.

you close your eyes, hand dipping below the waistband of your pajama pants automatically. it’s frightening how easily you’re able to bring up a picture of him in your mind, so much clearer than before now that you’ve seen what he looks like all grown up.

and grown up, he has. you had been too stunned to get a good look at him while he was in front of you, but the way he’d changed was immediately apparent and the image in your brain now feels almost unreal.

his hair was a little longer and a little darker, and he was much taller, with broad shoulders that looked way too perfect in a suit jacket. but his face hadn’t changed a bit. maybe his jaw was a little bit sharper and his smile lines were a little bit deeper, but his eyes were the same ones you had always known.

your hand slips lower and lower until you’re gently running the tips of your fingers over the panel of your underwear covering your pussy, moaning quietly when you feel how wet you are already.

no wonder it’s been so hard for you to focus all day. you’ve been too busy pushing away thoughts of joshua burying his fingers in your tight, wet cunt, cooing about how good you’re being for him and how long he’s waited for you.

automatically you feel your other hand grabbing for your phone, desperate to hear his voice again. you hadn’t said more than a few sentences to him earlier, but you feel like you’ll go crazy if you don’t hear him while you’re in this state. so needy for him and only him, and he doesn’t even know it.

your fingers shake as you press the buttons, knowing you’re about to get yourself into a whole world of trouble but not being able to stop yourself.

“hey.” he answers on the second ring. his tone is deep and husky, and your breath catches in your throat for a second, not used to hearing him talk like that; the last time you heard his voice was long before puberty, and you’re still navigating how to talk to this older, sexier joshua.

your first thought is to wonder if his morning voice sounds equally as sexy, but you’re immediately pushing it out of your head when you hear what sounds like him stifling a yawn.

“sorry, did i wake you? it– it’s not important,” you start, ashamed of how needy you are that you’d call him in the middle of the damn night, unprovoked, like some kind of bible group booty call.

the regret is already starting to set in. he probably hasn’t changed as much as you've built him up in your mind, probably still the obedient gentleman he was before. he’s probably already well on his way to being the head of a church, so of course he wouldn’t be thinking about you like that—

“no. it’s fine,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “always have time for you, sweetheart. what’s up?”

you shove down the butterflies that flutter up in your stomach at the name he calls you, a nickname he always called you when you were kids because he was taught it was always polite to talk sweet to a lady.

except it feels so much different now. talking sweet to a lady as kids was easy, innocent. but one wrong word now would completely change the meaning behind those pretty words of his, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it.

“i… just– it’s been so long, joshie,” you whisper, surprised at the sudden feeling of tears springing up behind your eyes. you didn’t mean for this to happen— you didn’t mean for any of it to happen. not back then, and certainly not now.

he lets the line go quiet, finally sighing into the phone after a long pause. “i missed you… so much.” he murmurs your name, and the way the rumble in his voice goes straight through you immediately reminds you why you called him in the first place.

your free hand toys with the hem of your underwear again, fighting to keep down the whimper that threatens to escape you. “missed you too,” you breathe out. god, you can’t believe you’re doing this. but for the first time in years, the man you’ve been picturing in your head is right here with you, fulfilling some of your fantasies that you never thought could ever come true.

somewhere deep in your stomach you feel guilty about it, getting off to the thought of him and he doesn’t even know it. would he want to know? would he be okay with it? would he hate you forever if he knew?

he clears his throat, snapping you back to attention and you realize you must’ve been silent for a while, thinking.

“um, so, what are you doing?” you ask, trying to seem casual, but it comes out as anything but. nobody calls anyone this late at night and asks what they’re doing without having a dirty reason for doing so.

all you can do is hope he’s either too innocent to pick up on it, or that he doesn’t believe you’re the type of person who would call for something like that. you wonder if he still thinks of you as that perfect little obedient church girl he grew up with.

“nothing, just–working on… stuff,” he replies awkwardly. clearly he doesn’t want to go into detail about what he’s doing, and you’re already afraid you’ve interrupted his sleep; you’re mentally kicking yourself for all the blunders you’ve made, and you haven’t even been on the phone for five minutes.

“what are you doing?” he asks back, and you freeze, trying to come up with some excuse, anything. fuck, think of something!

“h-homework,” you sputter out, attempting to hide your unconfident answer with a cough.

apparently it works, because he hums in response, the line falling quiet. you hear the rustling of papers on his end, and you press your fingers harder against your cunt, heartbeat racing in your ears.

your fingers brush against your clit a little rougher than you intend, and a little whine escapes your lips, catching you off guard. you slap a hand over your mouth, hoping it had been too quiet for him to hear and he hadn’t been paying attention.

“are you…?” he asks suddenly, and your cheeks flush, caught red-handed in your sinful act.

you clear your throat, praying (both metaphorically and literally) that he doesn’t notice anything off about you. “am i what?”

his silence on the other end of the phone speaks volumes.

“joshua, oh my god, no, i–”

“what did you just say?”

you freeze. “what… did i say?”

when he speaks again, his tone is even. “don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

that nickname again, and now you know he’s doing it on purpose. innocent, pretty words, completely changed in a split second.

you let out a short laugh, scrambling to find a cover. “must’ve forgot then.”

he hums. “i remember you spent a whole month trying to memorize the ten commandments. we must’ve been what, eight or nine? you wouldn’t have forgotten. i may not have seen you since we were kids, but i’ve still known you most of my life.”

“it was an accident, you know how it is. just slips out. of course i remember them all.”

he tsks, and it feels like your heart stops. “did you forget that lying is a sin, too? you’re two for two now, wanna try for a third?”

damn him! damn his good memory and damn his stupid witty comebacks and damn the way he so quickly manages to unravel you.

you scowl and don’t respond to his question, your silence enough of an answer for joshua to know he’s right.

“why did you call me tonight?” he asks calmly.

you answer truthfully this time. “just wanted to hear your voice again. i really did miss you.”

the phone goes quiet again, and for a second you’re afraid he’s hung up, but then you hear him exhale. “it’s late. what are you doing?”

“i’m in bed, josh. don’t worry, father, i’m not staying up past my bedtime.”

he chooses to ignore your remark. “in bed doing what?”

you give him a half-suppressed laugh. “in bed laying down. what else would i be doing?”

“well, with the way you were trying to hide your moans earlier, i would’ve figured you were doing something more exciting. but if you’re just laying down, then i don't want to keep you long, might as well hang up…”

“no!” you squeak out, cutting him off. you swallow, trying to collect yourself as you repeat the word. “no. fine, whatever, you caught me. but– please, stay.” you can hear the plea in your voice and you know you should be embarrassed at how pathetic you sound, but you aren't. the only thing you can think about is joshua, joshua, joshua, and how good it feels to talk to him again.

“i’m here,” he says softly, and you let your eyes close with a sigh, relieved he’s not going to chastise you. but as much as you’ve both changed as you grew up, deep down you knew he wouldn’t. you figure you could do just about anything and he wouldn’t try to tell you what to do. he’d always been like that, and it’s what you’d loved about him; he never tried to control you or shame you for not acting like the perfect little angel everybody wanted you to be.

you couldn’t say the same about others in the church. maybe that’s why you’d started to drift away from them and why joshua’s friendship coming to an end had left you so devastated. he had been the one and only person you could always count on, and they had not.

“are you still there?” he asks gently, and you realize you’ve been quiet for too long thinking.

“yeah,” you say finally.

“are you still touching yourself?”

you pause, stifling a gasp, taken aback by his forwardness. hearing him say it out loud made everything seem so real, the realization setting in about what you’re actually doing. “n– no.”

and it’s true. your hand has long since dropped away from your pajama pants, too nervous about being discovered to continue.

“well, why not?” he says. “don’t stop on my account.”

your mouth falls open. “i–”

“clearly you wanted something from me when you called. what is it, sweetheart? i can’t help you if i don’t know what it is you want.”

your brain practically short circuits at that, and it takes a very long minute for you to collect your thoughts into a coherent sentence. you want a lot of things, but you don’t know what’s okay to say or not or if he even wants to keep going. which is a silly thought, because he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to know. it dawns on you that maybe… maybe he’s curious, maybe he’s thinking about you, too.

“what kind of help?” you ask, still testing the waters. you think you have an idea of what he means, but you ask anyway. you’ve never done anything like this with anyone else, only by yourself; not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t want it to be with someone who wasn’t joshua.

“you said you wanted to hear my voice,” he says, and you swear his tone has dropped an octave. “then let me talk to you.”

you whine a little, still holding back but not putting in as much effort to hide it. “m’kay.”

“would it make you feel better if i told you i’m hard right now?”

you suck in a breath. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he says. “just thinking about you.”

you feel a rush of emotion at his admittance. pride? satisfaction? whatever it is, it makes your cunt throb, knowing that just the thought of you can get him going.

finally you dare to slide your hand down your pants again, unsurprised when you find your underwear sticking to you with how wet you are. you’re soaking, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

“hold on,” you manage, putting the call on speaker as you set your phone on the table beside your bed, scrambling to shove your pants and ruined panties off and onto the floor.

once free, you pick up your phone and turn off the speaker, holding it to your ear with shaky hands.

“all ready now?” he asks softly, and it reminds you of what he used to say before you’d play pretend games together. always making sure you were ready. he was hot back then, too, and you mentally curse yourself for never realizing it sooner.

you hum. “mhm. comfortable.”

“good,” he says, and you can almost hear him smiling. “go ahead and do whatever you’d like. but i want you to tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”

you squirm a little on the bed as you start to circle your clit with your fingers. “thinking about you, joshua,” you sigh, finally beginning to feel relief.

“yeah?”

“yeah. you look even better than i thought you would,” you groan, picking up your pace a little as you slip your index finger inside your walls.

he chuckles. “oh, really?”

“mhm. god, i never thought i’d be doing this. especially not with you.”

“and why is that, baby?”

the name makes you shiver. you’d imagined him calling you it many times, but hearing him actually say it is completely different.

“because—” you whimper, losing your train of thought when your brain suddenly pictures his fingers inside you instead of your own. “i’m so close already, please—”

his tone is gentle but firm. “i want you to stop now.”

“but– ah, feels so good, shua,” you say, moans spilling out of you, finally letting him hear everything you’ve been holding back.

you hear him curse in that low voice through the phone, and your hand stills for a split second in shock, your eyes widening. as far as you knew, he never swore. but then again, there were a lot of things he never did that you're discovering about him now. looks like you weren’t the only one who changed over the years.

“that’s not my name.”

you sit up a little in confusion, pushing your phone closer to your ear to make sure you’re hearing him right. “huh?”

“my name is joshua. if you’re gonna moan like a sinner about how good it feels when i tell you how to touch yourself, you better use my name properly.” he sounds almost angry, but it only spurs you on even further.

you let his words sink for a second before responding. “yes, sir.”

“fuck,” he moans, he actually moans, and if you weren’t already so far gone you would’ve stopped to listen closer, to ingrain the noise in your brain so you never again forget how he sounds. “what did i just tell you?”

“what, you don’t like being called ‘sir’? thought you wanted to be a pastor, joshua,” you say with a smirk, and you know he hears the mischief in your voice, daring him to give you what you want.

it’s probably a good thing he’s not physically in the room with you, because there's no way you would have been able to muster up the courage to say something like that to his face. you wouldn’t have dared to even look him in the eyes, but being on the phone gives you a head rush. because with only his voice and not seeing his face, you can convince yourself that he still isn’t real, that this whole phone call and even your meeting earlier had just been an elaborate figment of your horny imagination, your denial being the only thing saving your last shred of dignity.

“didn’t realize you’d grow up to be even more of a brat than you were before,” he scoffs, and your cunt pulses.

“what are you doing right now?” you say, a little desperately. the change of subject isn’t very subtle but you don’t care. you won’t lie, you’ve been curious since the start of what he’s doing but he’s been so focused on you he hasn’t said anything about himself. you want to know everything about him— how he’s moving his hands, where he puts pressure, what he thinks about to get himself closer and closer.

he grunts unceremoniously. “i’m fucking my hand and pretending it’s you.”

“me too,” you whimper, closing your eyes as you focus on the movement of your fingers.

after a while he stops responding, and you can hear his heavy breaths over the line matching with your own gasps for air as you curl your fingers inside of you. you figure he must be getting close, but you ask him anyway, because you want to hear him say it.

“yeah– fuck, so close,” he chokes out, and the way his voice gets higher as he lets out a whimper is what finally makes you come undone.

with a moan of his name—his full name—you cum, clenching around your fingers as you struggle to keep your hand moving. your wrist is starting to cramp up a little from the position you’ve been in, but the pleasure coursing through you is more than worth it. it’s almost dizzying, more powerful than any orgasm you’ve had before and when you finally remove your fingers from your aching cunt your head is spinning and your heart is pounding.

you can hear a muffled string of curses through the phone and you know he’s right behind you. thoughts of him sitting on his bed run rampant in your head, imagining his stomach covered in milky cum and his pretty, pretty lips parted as he catches his breath.

the silence is heavy as you feel yourself come back down from your high. you struggle to find something to say after… whatever that just was, so you say the only thing that’s on your mind.

“i really did miss you, joshua,” you say quietly. unlike before, there’s not a hint of teasing in the way you say his name now.

and he sighs contentedly, finally hearing his name on your lips like he always wanted to. “i know. i missed you too.”

you both say your goodbyes and good nights quickly, still basking in enough of the remnants of your orgasms to not be too awkward about it. but after you’re settled in bed (for real, this time) and about to fall asleep, you can’t help but wonder if things between you and joshua will ever be anything but awkward.

a memory surfaces: you and joshua running around at the park behind the church after a sunday evening service, no older than kindergarteners, laughing and playing until you collapse on the grass. your mom called for you both to get ready to go home, and no you’re not allowed to have a sleepover because it’s a school night but maybe this weekend if his mom is okay with it. before you ran off, he thrust his pinky out towards you and you shook on it, making a pact to always be best friends, even when you can’t have sleepovers. it didn’t ever occur to either of you that there might come a day where you wouldn’t be best friends.

you don’t remember what prompted him to make the pinky promise, but you know he’s never broken it. and you can only hope that he hasn’t forgotten it.

it’s a few days later at one of your bible study groups when you see him next, and yet again you’re caught off-guard like a deer in headlights.

you’re sitting with a group of other ladies, annotating material for a test you couldn’t care less about when you hear your name called out– a familiar deep voice you can only pray doesn’t belong to who you think it belongs to.

oh, but it does belong to him, alright. it feels like you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you when you turn around and see joshua standing behind you, a warm smile on his face that makes you doubt anything ever happened. maybe it really was all just a delirious dream, too many years of yearning built up into one intense wet dream.

he puts a hand on your shoulder lightly, turning you away from the rest of the ladies. “hey, can we talk somewhere?”

and oh shit it was definitely not a dream.

your cheeks burn as you excuse yourself from the table, packing up your bible and pens and shoving everything in your bag as quickly as you can. you can almost hear the snickering already, the gossips whispering to each other that you must have done something unspeakable if the top-student, pastor’s son, joshua hong has to speak with you privately. ah, if only they knew.

you only wish you could go back there and wipe the smirks off of all their faces and tell them about what the perfect little gentlemen they all pretend they don’t have crushes on was doing on the phone with you last night. you wouldn’t do that, not in a million years, but just the thought of it is satisfaction enough.

joshua leads you down the hall to a room that looks like an empty office. he opens the door for you, then closes it softly behind you.

“whose is this?” you ask, glancing around the room.

“it’s… mine,” he says almost shyly, gesturing idly to a little engraved nameplate on the desk. joshua hong, pastor’s assistant. because of fucking course he would be.

“oh.”

he clears his throat, and in that moment you realize he’s just as nervous as you are. “listen…” he starts, taking a pause. “about the other night–”

“are you gonna kick me out?” you interrupt.

his brows knit together in confusion. “what?”

“are you gonna expel me?”

“no?” he says, still looking at you, baffled. “why would i do that? i don’t even think i have the power to, even if i wanted. which, for the record, i don’t.”

you don’t reply, focusing your gaze on the carpet instead.

he frowns. “is that really how you think of me? that i just go around tattling to my dad? from that… conversation, i thought it was clear i’m not like that anymore.”

the tips of your ears are burning at the memory of all the things you said to each other over the phone. but it never occurred to you that maybe he was just as sinful as you had been.

you stay quiet, the silence stretching on as shame and embarrassment and a hundred other emotions swirl in your mind and you struggle to figure out what to say.

luckily for you he fills the silence himself. he exhales, looking down at a stack of papers on the desk. “god, you… you don’t know how much i missed you. i thought about you all the time.”

“so did i,” you manage to whisper. “in more ways than you know.”

he gives you a teasing smile. “oh, i have a feeling i do know.”

you hold back a cough and look away, focusing your attention on a painting of flowers on the wall. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“if that’s how you wanna play this, fine.”

your curiosity piques, and you look back at him. he motions to the seat in front of the desk, wordlessly asking you to sit. hesitantly you do, and he starts to sit down at the swivel chair behind the desk, but you clear your throat and he glances up.

“can– can you not sit over there?” you ask softly. “feels like i’m being scolded.”

his expression softens a little, and he rolls the chair back into place, opting to sit next to you instead. “of course.”

except maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to do that, because now he’s sitting toe to toe with you and the closeness is overwhelming. at least on the other side of the desk there was enough distance for you to shrink and hide behind, but here, sitting like this, he can see all of you. and you don’t particularly want to be seen right now.

the tension is palpable as he takes his seat, still watching you. you take the moment to study his features: the slope of his nose and the gentle curve of his lips, the way the light catches on his long eyelashes and the way his broad shoulders look in that perfectly tailored sunday morning service suit.

“i always liked you,” he starts, and your gaze shoots up to his eyes. you open your mouth to ask something, but he shakes his head and you immediately fall silent, letting him finish. “i was almost glad when they made us go to different sunday school classes, because i wouldn’t have to sit there and pretend i didn’t have the craziest crush on you.”

“joshua, i–” you trail off, not even knowing what to say.

he pauses, as if debating his next words. “and i know it’s wrong, but i couldn’t get you out of my head when i… y’know.” his cheeks are flushed but he doesn’t look away from you, eyes searching your own for any hesitance or any sign that you don’t want this.

it’s then that you realize that the boldness you had felt hiding behind your phone, he had felt it too. saying words alone in your room at night was easy. sitting in public, in the daylight, and saying those same words to his face was so much scarier. and knowing that you’re both feeling awkward and shy and a little uncertain of how to talk about it gives you the confidence to keep going.

“when you would what?” you pry. you already know the answer but you want to hear it come out of his mouth anyway. you’ve already heard him say it, but something about sitting in his office, in a church, speaking such filth ignites a spark in you that’s completely different from the spark you felt a few nights ago.

he clears his throat and looks you in the eye, maybe gaining a little bit of that confidence, too. “when i would jerk off i would always wish it was your sweet little mouth instead of my own hand.”

you inhale sharply, and that’s when he finally breaks eye contact, his guilt-ridden gaze shifting to the wall behind you as his cheeks burn redder. “i didn’t feel good about it. felt like i was doing it without your permission, and i didn’t want that. i–”

“yes,” you say hurriedly.

he stops short at your interruption, instantly looking back at you. “yes…?”

“yes, you have my permission. whatever you want, joshua, always.”

his eyes narrow, almost imperceptibly, but you recognize it. even after all these years, after so much has changed, you still know his tells. you wonder if he still knows yours.

he murmurs your name in response, almost like a warning. “don’t say stuff like that,” he says, letting out a shaky breath.

“why not?” you ask, feigning innocence. but you know exactly what you’re doing, and you know exactly how you affect him: the same way he affects you.

he looks up at you. “you really are just as much of a brat as you were back then, aren’t you?” he says with just a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“why don’t you find out?”

he groans, leaning back in his chair. “do you know how long i’ve wanted to kiss you?” he says finally.

“probably just as long as i’ve wanted to kiss you,” you counter, and he raises an eyebrow.

you both stand up at the same moment, closing the distance in less than a second.

you stare at his chest in front of you to avoid his eyes, until he brings up a hand and gently tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“are– you gonna get in trouble?” you breathe, heartbeat pounding in your ears as you stare at his perfect, perfect lips.

he hums, and it sends a shiver down your spine at the close proximity. “are you still giving me permission?” he asks, and you quickly shake your head yes.

“always.”

he smooths his thumb across your cheek. “then i won’t be in any trouble at all."

and then his hand moves to hold the back of your neck and he's tilting his head and bringing his lips towards yours and then finally, after years of dreaming about it and even more years of denying it, you're finally kissing joshua and there's so many things happening at once that you can't seem to focus on anything because your mind is so full of everything and nothing and joshua and it all just feels so right.

you’re melting in his arms and falling into his touch and enjoying every fucking second of it. your heart speeds up when his hands slide behind your back, wrapping around your body to pull you closer to him, pressed chest to chest.

he pulls away to kiss you again, and again, and again, and you decide you’d be content to be like this forever, standing in his office in the church building making out like you’re the only two people on earth.

but finally his lips leave yours, and he takes a tiny step backwards, heaving out a shaky breath as he looks you in the eyes. “what are we gonna do now?”

your heart plummets, doubts racing through your mind. did he not like it? does he not like you? did you really just ruin everything? why did he stop? why did he ask that—

but all your questions are answered in an instant when he coughs and you look down, finally noticing the prominent bulge in his dress pants. oh. that.

when you look back up at him his cheeks are flushed bright red, and he immediately begins to apologize.

“shua,” you call out to him, repeating his name the way you know he likes. “joshua. don’t worry about it. it’s fine.”

in fact, you find it incredibly flattering, that just a few kisses and gentle touches could get him this worked up. maybe it really has been you all along.

with a surge of confidence, you step back towards him, wrapping your arms around him and leaning to kiss him. “are you busy today?” you murmur, your cheek brushing against his.

he shudders, hands automatically finding your waist and pushing your hips against his own. “no. are you?”

you sigh, kissing the corner of his mouth. “not anymore.”

“fuck,” he curses, his grip on your body tightening “you really want to…?” he asks, almost shyly, as if he’s in denial this is really happening.

“absolutely,” you say, and you’ve never meant anything more in your life.

in a second he’s got you shoved against his desk, sending papers flying to the floor as he lifts you by your ass to sit you down on top of it. your kisses turn rougher and needier, your hands grabbing at anything you can reach to ground yourself: his hair, his shoulders, his back.

finally he breaks free, dropping to his knees in front of the desk. “please, let me eat you out.”

you moan out loud, probably too loudly for the thin walls of the office. but the visual of him on his knees to do anything other than pray drives you mad, and you need more of him, desperately. “joshua, please.”

he pushes your skirt up your thighs, moving it out of his way so he can stare eye to eye with your pussy. you whimper and instinctively try to hide your face in embarrassment, but something tells you he wouldn’t like that, so you resist, keeping your hands firmly planted on the edge of the desk.

“fuck, you’re soaking,” he says, his voice broken. “you’re so perfect.”

his hands reach up to tug at the hem of your underwear, and he looks up at you, silently asking for permission to continue. you nod eagerly, lifting your hips off the desk so he can slide them off of you, revealing your glistening entrance.

he whines at the sight, pretty lips parted in shock? awe? as if he can’t wait to taste you. he pushes his face into your pussy, gently at first, but when you moan and bring your hand up to his hair he dives deeper.

the moment he attaches his mouth to your clit, you jump, gasping as you try to shut your legs around his head but his large hands keep you held open. his tongue explores every inch of you, moving back and forth, up and down, mapping out your cunt with his mouth.

“fuck, never dreamed you’d taste so good,” he sighs against your pussy, leaning away to take a breath after what feels like forever.

your legs are shaking and your cunt is throbbing as you also try to catch your breath. you’re not used to being touched like this and you’re definitely not used to being touched by joshua. so many thoughts running through your head and not a single one of them coherent enough to put into words. all you can do is weakly whine out joshua’s name and tug on his hair, pleading for him to keep going. you need release, and you don’t want it from anyone but him.

he stands up, his pants wrinkled from kneeling on the floor but still tented with a bulge so uncomfortably large you feel dizzy just thinking about it. you don’t even know if he’s going to fuck you or even if he wants to, but god you want to see his cock so bad. too many restless nights spent thinking about it, and now you might finally have the chance to see it in front of your face.

your mouth waters at the thought, and you start to slide off the desk, but joshua stops you. “what are you…?”

you look up at him, eyes blown wide with lust and you don’t even attempt to hide your eagerness. “please let me suck your dick. joshua, please.”

he whines, running a hand through his hair. “god, i want that so bad, but… i don’t think i can last if you do, and i was really hoping to fuck you.”

you close your eyes and roll your head back, moaning at his vulgar confession. but he sighs, and he sounds almost defeated, and you look back at him quickly, afraid he’s suddenly changed his mind.

“i’m not—prepared,” he admits, and you tilt your head in confusion before it sinks in what he means.

“ah. don’t suppose you would have any condoms lying around, would you, mr. pastor’s assistant?” you ask playfully, and he shoots you a glare.

“brat,” he mutters under his breath, but you hear it, and your walls clench in response. “no, i don’t have any. not interested in anybody else, so… no reason to.” he looks like he has more to say, more serious things to say, but he keeps his mouth shut, his eyes searching your face nervously.

your stomach flips at his words, feeling your cheeks heating up. you hadn’t thought you would ever get this far, and especially not with him. because of the kind of school you were at, it wasn’t like the people here were doing the kind of things you’ve been doing—at least not publicly. even if you’d wanted to hook up with somebody (which you didn’t), everyone in your vicinity would shame you for even bringing it up. you may have experience with yourself, but anything with anyone else is completely new territory for you.

you fall silent, not sure how to continue the conversation as all your newfound confidence begins to crumble. what were you thinking? caught up in the heat of the moment, saying things you weren’t sure you meant. you were in love with him: that much you were sure of. but everything that comes after that is too new, too scary, at least for right now. you can barely even comprehend that he just went down on you, but you know you enjoyed it and honestly, you’d give anything for him to do it again. but there’s too much going on inside your head for you to even begin to process that right now.

he calls your name and you blink, looking back at him anxiously. “we… don’t have to. right now, or even at all,” he says gently. the tips of his ears are burning red but his voice is calm and steady.

“joshua, i want to,” you start, clasping your hands tightly together in your lap to give you something to focus on other than the way he’s watching you so intently. “but i– don’t know how.”

“neither do i, baby,” he says. the nickname makes you shiver; even though it’s not the first time he’s called you that, especially after the other night, you’re still not used to it. but somehow it’s comforting, and it makes you relax knowing that he’s still the same person you grew up with, the same person that knows almost everything about you. you’ve both changed so much, but deep down you haven’t changed at all.

he pauses when you don’t say anything back. “we’ll wait, then,” he says and wraps his arms around you, lightly at first but then squeezing when you don’t try to pull away. “we have all the time in the world. no need to rush.”

“we… do?” your voice is laced with uncertainty.

he smiles. “of course. i let you go once already, i’m not letting it happen again. never again.”

you turn your head away from him and hide your face, flustered by how sincere he sounds. he hums, and you can hear the pout in his tone so you fight your embarrassment and turn back towards him to ask the question that’s been weighing on your mind since you first saw him days ago. “this is gonna sound so stupid, but… shua, what are we?”

first you were childhood friends, you were best friends, and then you were nothing. right place, wrong time? and then you were… doing something on the phone together, whatever you could call that. and now you were just sitting on top of his desk, sweating from having almost had sex. how do you even begin to put a label on this?

“well, i’d like to be yours,” he says shyly, and just like that all your questions are answered with six small words. you realize it doesn’t matter what label you have; as long as you have him, that’s all that matters.

“yes,” you breathe, lifting your eyes to finally meet his and you see all the love in his eyes threatening to spill over.

he reaches up to brush a piece of your hair out of your face. “i’m just glad i finally have you back,” he says with a soft smile as he watches you. “we’ll go slow, we’ll wait— whatever you want. whatever it takes not to lose you again.”

you bury your face in his chest with a whine. you’re hiding again, but even the uncomfortable scratchiness of his dress shirt can’t pull you away from him.

“besides, i don’t want our first time together to be in my stupid little office,” he chuckles and holds you tighter against him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head that makes your heart flutter. “you deserve better than that.”

you stay there for a long moment, hugging him like it's the last time you'll ever see him. but this time you know it won't be the last. it's the first, the first of hopefully many, many more.

when you feel like you've been standing there too long, you clear your throat and lean your head back to look at him. "so, um… now what?"

he pauses, those pretty lips turned up in a smile. "do you have plans for lunch?"

"no, i just had that study group you pulled me from. i'm free for the rest of the day."

his smile widens. "perfect. you still like grilled cheese, or did you grow out of that, too?"

you laugh, putting your chin on his shoulder as you hug him. "i haven't changed that much, shua."

after taking a while to collect yourselves (waiting for his erection to go back down so you can leave together without looking suspicious), you walk out of joshua’s office the happiest you've felt in years.

he'd wanted to hold your hand, too, but you were still anxious about anyone seeing you together that you'd refused him until you made it to his car. you were probably just being paranoid and no one would care about two responsible adults talking to each other, but all the time you'd spent hiding from your peers had put you on edge.

so, it wasn't until you were safely out of the church parking lot and in the driveway of his apartment complex that you let him touch you, kissing you over the cupholders with his hands gently holding your neck.

it took everything in you not to climb over the center console and sit on his lap in the driver's seat and kiss him as hard and as deeply as you really wanted, but you knew once you started you wouldn't be able to stop. and besides, he still didn't have any condoms. it didn't bother you either way, since you'd been taking birth control since high school to help with your periods, but if it was what he wanted you'd be more than fine with it.

you don't know what you'd been expecting the inside his apartment to look like; probably some tacky cross-stitch bible verses or a wooden cross hanging on the wall, but his apartment just looked like… a normal apartment. a very clean apartment, actually, though you weren't surprised. he'd always been a neat, organized kid, and it looked like that was one thing he hadn't grow out of.

you watch as he puts his keys on a hook by the door, following him into the kitchen and sitting at one of the chairs.

he grins at you as he opens his refrigerator, pulling out the ingredients for your lunch before taking out a pan.

"shua…" you interrupt him, standing up and walking towards him slowly. "you're not— really thinking about grilled cheese sandwiches right now, are you?"

he hums, eyes following your every movement as the pan sits cold and abandoned on the stove. "there are… other things on my mind, yeah."

"so why are you still trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches?"

by now you're close enough to stand toe to toe with him, and you're sure he can feel the heat radiating off your body when he wraps his hands around your waist, backing you against the kitchen counter. "because i wanna make you lunch. maybe i just wanna spoil my girl a little bit."

a shiver runs down your spine at the new name he calls you. never in a million years did you think this is where you'd end up.

"i think you have all the time in the world to spoil me later, joshua," you mumble, leaning in closer and closer until your lips touch.

in a flash he's hoisting you up and sitting you on the counter. his mouth never leaves yours as you slide your legs around his hips to drag him closer, kisses growing deeper and more desperate now that you can finally be alone together.

his hands slide down your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt and only breaking apart for a second to slide it over your head before his lips are crashing against yours again.

your hands find his hips, experimentally tugging on his belt to see his reaction. immediately he pulls away from you,

cheeks flushed and breathing heavily. "sweetheart, i still don't have any condoms. if you really want to now, then we gotta run to the store first."

“i’m on the pill,” you burst out, hoping he gets the message. maybe he has some other reason for wanting to, but you're too impatient to wait for who knows how long it'll take to go to the store, and you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off him for that long. you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off of him for even a few seconds.

his face goes blank as he processes your words, struggling to understand if you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying. “you’d let me…?”

you grab onto his arms, a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him. “raw, yes, joshua. just—please, i need you,” you beg him, cunt throbbing with neglect as you wait for him to answer.

he buries his face in your shoulder with a groan, gripping his hands underneath your thighs and sliding you off the counter.

with a shriek you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he starts to walk out of the kitchen carrying you. "joshua! what the hell are you doing?"

his face is still pressed against your shoulder, and you can feel his lips tickling your bare skin as he speaks. "i'll fuck you on my kitchen counter any day of the week, baby, but i want to have you for the first time in my bed, please?"

his voice is low and whiny, just as desperate for you as you are for him and it makes you moan with excitement.

he finds his way into his room, stumbling a little when he accidentally runs you into the wall instead of through the doorway, but you just giggle and kiss him harder until he finally drops you on his bed, immediately unbuttoning his shirt.

you run your hands along his chest as he leans over you, feeling the toned muscle that feels almost wrong to be seeing. his physical changes are much more obvious to you now that he's like this, and you know the image will fuel your fantasies for weeks.

your hands move to his belt again and this time he allows it, letting you unbuckle it and toss it away before slowly lowering the zipper. he's already hard again, and your heart races when you put a little bit of pressure on the seam and he lets out a guttural groan in response.

his arms flex as he reaches down to slide your skirt off, and you help him and kick the fabric away, leaving both of you in nothing but your underwear.

joshua pauses, letting his gaze wander your body as you look away shyly. he hums and you look back at him in confusion. "don't hide from me, sweetheart, please," he says, but it comes out more like a whine; not like he's asking, but like he's begging. it's honestly the hottest thing you've ever heard, and even with your nerves he makes it hard to resist.

"dreamt about this for fucking years. years," he moans as he leans over to kiss your chest, reaching behind your body to undo your bra and let it fall away. you whimper when he brings his hands up to cup your breasts, wrapping his mouth around one of your nipples as he starts to slowly grind against your clothed pussy. you can already feel yourself soaking through your panties, and you're sure he can feel it, too.

his hands are like nothing you've ever felt, and you roll your head back against his pillows, arching into him as he massages your breasts with his large hands. you'd noticed them before, but you hadn't realized just how big they were until they were on top of you and made your body seem almost tiny beneath his massive palms.

"shua…" you breathe, tentative hands reaching up to touch his shoulders.

he looks up at you, mouth covered in spit. "yes, angel?"

you whimper at the nickname. no angel you'd ever learned about in sunday school had acted like you are right now, begging a man to fuck you. and on top of that it was before marriage, too; surely if there was a god they would be extremely disappointed in you. but right now you didn't care if the entire universe was disappointed in you, as long as joshua hong wasn't.

it takes you a few more seconds to build up your courage, but finally you open your mouth and tell him, "joshua, please— fuck me."

he slides forward to kiss you again, before sitting back and repositioning himself between your legs. "anything you want, sweetheart."

he lines his cock up at your entrance, and just before you think he's about to push into you, he looks up at you instead.

"i love you, so much," he says, and you have to fight the urge to hide your face as you grin and giggle like a fucking schoolgirl; like the past version of you would have, if she'd had any sense and figured everything out sooner.

and, like always, he asks, "ready?", and you nod, and it's better than you could've ever imagined.

the whines that leave his mouth drive you close to the edge already as he begins to thrust into you, slowly, gently, just a little bit at a time but it still leaves you gasping from his size.

he keeps moving at a snail's pace until you reach up, fumbling to grab at his bicep as tears nearly spill out of your eyes and beg him, "joshua, more, please."

he leans over you, pressing his body flat against yours as he starts to rock his hips faster, and you cry out from so much pleasure and so much emotion hitting all at once.

"wanted you so fucking bad, for so long, and now you're finally here," he whispers, his thrusts never faltering despite how close in proximity he is to your face.

you whine as your hands claw at his back, digging in as you struggle to hold on and he curses again, pushing into you harder.

"you said i was better than you imagined," he groans, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. "but you're even better than i imagined. you're a fucking angel, so fucking beautiful."

you gasp his name, falling into your orgasm from his words alone as you clench impossibly tight around him. you always thought of him as the nice kid, the rule follower, but here he is, fucking you through the hardest orgasm of your life and saying such filthy things in between praises and compliments.

"jo-oshua, please!" is all you can manage, still struggling to recover before he crests into his own high with a whimper. his eyes scrunch up as he releases inside you, eyelashes fluttering and sweat dripping down his temples, and you think it's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen.

a constant stream of curses fall from his lips and you swallow them with yours, kissing him as if you're afraid he might disappear into thin air if you don't hold onto him tight enough.

his breaths are shallow when his mouth falls away from you, resting his forehead on your shoulder with a long exhale.

"god…" he starts, then stops and laughs, and you have to tug on his hair to make him face you again.

"what are you laughing at?" you say, cheeks growing hot when he looks at you with droopy, hooded eyes and a lopsided smile.

"nothing," he laughs. "just god. what a funny word."

"and why is that, baby?" you say as you try to hold back a smile, testing out the nickname.

he grins. "because it gave me you. or maybe it didn't. who knows?"

you finally laugh along with him, remembering what he'd said to you on the phone that feels like years ago. "don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

the church is humming with activity as you make your way to the front pew, carrying two donuts in your hand. people greet you as they mingle about the hall, talking and laughing. some wave excitedly when they see you, others simply smile and offer their hand for you to shake with a friendly “good morning and god bless!”

being a pastor’s wife isn’t something you ever imagined yourself doing, but then again, a lot of things in your life you never imagined doing. you never imagined seeing joshua again, and you never imagined marrying him, either. you certainly didn’t imagine taking over your father-in-law’s church when he retired and decided it was time for joshua to take his place as head of the church. you always knew he would someday, whether he wanted to or not, but you’d be happy to spend the rest of your life by his side no matter where he was or what job he had.

you’d been almost nervous when you decided it was finally time to tell your parents you had been seeing each other, but to your surprise they had been overjoyed at the news. both his family and yours were “just so glad when it happened to be you!”, saying things like “we’d always known it would happen, back since you were children!”, and “so when are we going to get some beautiful little grandchildren to take to sunday school!”

it had been five long and happy years since that very first phone call, and every minute you spend with joshua has been the best of your life.

you walk up the steps to the stage where your husband is waiting, flipping through his notes for the morning’s sermon. you hand him his donut with a grin, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. he smirks at you, imperceptible to everyone else but you can tell what it truly means.

everybody in the congregation always talks you’re the perfect example of a happy, god-loving couple. such nice looking people, so well put together. but behind closed doors, they’d be horrified by the things you say and do together. wolf in sheep’s clothing, as is your husband’s favorite parable to preach.

it’s not the life you imagined, but it’s perfect to you and him.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging with tags or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 month

Note

Aita for not taking down a jokey sign on my bathroom door when my parents came over?

Cw: talk of diarrhea. Not explicitly.

So I (21f)and 2 of my friends (20f,lets call her lilly and 23m, lets call him matt)moved into an apartment about 2 years ago and so far, everything has been good. We've been able to manage our bills, keep a clean home, I couldn't ask for better. We've known each other since middle school, there's ackward moments and small disagreements when Matt brings over his boyfriend (he almost always yells when he speaks and slams doors) but everything is generally all good.

Every apartment shared by more than one gen z is gonna have some quirks and ours is the "code brown" sign. Me and matt have IBS and occasionally have some mild to moderate.... Bowel problems and there's only one bathroom. Usually it's not a problem but there's been a few occasions where someone will be taking awhile scrolling tik Tok or whatever or taking a long shower and me or Matt have an issue.

Originally it was a group chat half joke warning that someone was having a "code brown" and no one could lolly gag in the restroom because one of us might be making trips. It became an inside joke and last year, lilly had a cheap small hanging sign made by some wood burner on Etsy that basically read on one side "All clear, private!" and on the other read "Code brown! Get going or get down!". It was hilarious and we hung it on the bathroom door and now use it unironically. All our friends enjoyed it, Matt's boyfriend loudly so but not so much my parents.

About a week ago, I finally allowed my parents to check out my place. They aren't super Christian like evangelicals but my dad has been going red pilled and more so by the day so I tried to make my apartment look less like it was shared by three liberals and wore something nice and cooked a nice dinner. I paid for lilly and matt to go catch a movie and some Wendy's on me so they'd be out of the house. All was good until my dad went to the bathroom and came back with the damn sign looking like his head was going to explode. He screamed at me that he thought I was an adult, that I was failing at getting my shit together (they don't pay for anything and i live on my own?) and I was a child for hanging up such a clearly inappropriate sign. My mom agreed, though much less Intensely and my dad proceeded to break the sign over his knee and chastise me for a good 20 minutes before grabbing his things, demanding an apology in a few days and leaving with my mom.

Once lilly and matt got home I apologized and offered to buy a new sign. Lilly and Matt were just happy nothing else was broken and I was ok. I did eventually apologize to my dad because I can see where a poop sign might be a little inappropriate for important company but tbh I forgot about it and I was so busy making dinner I didn't realize it was still up or I would of tossed it in my room and moved on. Lilly and Matt just say my dad has a stick up his ass and shouldn't of messed with the sign(it was flipped to the no code brown side so he had to flip it to see it).

Was i the asshole for not taking down a gag sign about poop when my parents came over?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #unsanitary cw

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delulujuls · 4 months

Text

the mad dutchman and the fearless dutchess | mv33

summary: one dutchman is a lot so now imagine putting two dutch teenagers in one team and tell them to not kill each other

warnings: car crash, some cussing, (they sometimes can't stay each other but at the end of the day its just them against the world)

pairing: fem!redbulldriver x max verstappen

Max and Y/N had known each other since the times when they still had scrapes on their knees and wobbly milk teeth. They met at a go-kart school - he had a helmet that was much too big for him, she wore a patched jumpsuit from her older brother. Both didn't know exactly what they were doing or what goal they were pursuing; the most important thing was to be the best - for the joy of their parents and an endless supply of sweets.

However, go-karts quickly turned into racing cars and minor races transformed into Formula 1.

All the way to the top, Max and Y/N's relationship was very dynamic. From exchanging candy together after winning the podium, through years of rivalry and mutual dislike. Despite countless arguments and mutual hatred, Y/N always sided with Max and defended him with her always smaller body. She might not like him and get angry with him to the point of turning red, but no one could tease him or raise their voice against him. This applied to both other kids in the paddock and adults, too.

Both Max, Y/N and certainly Jos Verstappen himself probably remember how after one of the collisions at the end of 2008, Max's father went into a pure rage. While young Verstappen could argue and quarrel with anyone, he lost that ability when his father intervened. Seeing tears on the flushed face of the boy, Y/N firmly clenched her fists and stood between the father and son. Jos's voice caught in his throat when the almost half his size eleven-year-old girl looked him in the eyes and said that she wouldn't allow him to shout at Max like that.

Y/N Y/L/N was fearless both on and off the track. And although Jos Verstappen never admitted it, he was impressed by both her skills and incredible courage.

After the years of intense relationship of Max and Y/N, the unbreakable friendship was born when they both joined Christian Horner's team at the age of eighteen. Red Bull had been following their actions for many years, looking forward to taking them under their wings after their promotion to Formula 1. There was no doubt here - Horner had to have these Dutch duo in his team.

The first victories began to come the moment both Y/N and Max realized that they no longer had to compete with each other. When it became clear that they were playing for one goal and that now it was two of them against nine other teams. There was no first or second driver at Red Bull. There was Y/N and Max, Max and Y/N. There were two crazy Dutch teens, who were focused only on the best possible results. Christian never showed favoritism to any of them, because he knew that by doing so he would waste all those difficult months trying to win them over.

The team's tactics were also amazing, because the race strategy was revealed only after the starting signal. There were no plans or schedules, no strict rules. Whoever had better speed and performance in a given race became the leader. This was not subject to any protest or discussion.

Y/N and Max had known each other practically their entire lives. They had been on the same team for over 6 years, and despite Christian's breakneck efforts, there were still days when there were tensions between the pair. Obviously, there is no good relationship without an argument from time to time, but when it came to a Dutch-style quarrel, few preferred to participate.

"Do you have to be so damn stubborn?"

The girl asked, taking off her helmet and balaclava.

"If I hadn't been stubborn, the fucking Haas would have overtaken us at turn eight."

He replied, unplugging his headphones. His tone was still calm, but there was a trace of irritation on his face.

"He would have overtaken us because we were giving him the tunnel, which wouldn't have happened if you had let me through."

Y/N growled. She had no intention of arguing, but the weekend had been hard and she was exhausted. Max's temperament was absolutely unhelpful in this situation.

"I didn't get an order to let you through."

Verstappen responded by wiping his face with a towel.

"You see me in the fucking mirror and you have to wait for an order? Stop talking nonsense, Max."

He sighed and tossed the towel aside.

"Or maybe you were worse than me, hm? Didn't it occur to you that maybe you just fucked up today?"

The girl clenched her jaw. She felt anger begin to rise within her.

"Out of the two of us, you're the one who fucked up today because you acted like a complete idiot!"

Max snorted and tilted his head back. The button that started the argument clicked into place.

"Do you have anything else to say?"

Y/N pressed her tongue against her teeth. She wanted to unleash hell, but she didn't have time for an idiotic argument and to waste her energy on him.

"Fuck you, Max."

The girl growled and grabbed her things, heading deeper into the garage. She didn't feel like being around him, at all.

She unzipped her jumpsuit and grabbed some water, sitting on an empty crate. The situation from the last race kept replaying in her mind, as did his words. Analyzing and cluttering her thoughts was not good, especially when another training session awaited them, and staying focused was crucial.

"I heard some Dutch swearing," Christian started, standing next to her, "Is everything okay?"

The girl just nodded.

"Max just needs to feel at home sometimes"

Christian squeezed her shoulder and patted her on the back.

"Another half an hour and you won't have to look at him for the rest of the day."

Y/N sighed and rubbed her face with her hands. Despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she was exhausted. The upcoming Grand Prix was making her sweat a lot.

After a while, she received the order that the car was ready and she could go out on the track. She prepared for the drive and took her place in the car. As she left the garage, she noticed Max, who was also getting ready to start. She showed him the middle finger, to which he, of course, did not remain in debt.

Y/N took her place at the starting line, gripping the steering wheel tightly and focusing on the starting lights. When they went out, she raced with screeching tires and sparks flying. The previous session and Max's words kept playing in her mind. What if he was right? What if she really messed up and was worse than him?

The girl cursed under her breath, aggressively tackling the turns. She wasn't worse than him, she wasn't worse than anyone. She had worked hard for her position and everything she had achieved was well-deserved.

"Max started, in a moment the pit lane will be clear of the last Alpha Tauri and we'll have a complete set. Don't rush, focus on management and dynamics,"

"Do you really think they called me the fearless Dutchess for no reason?"

"Just be careful, Y/N. It's just practice; you don't have to prove anything to anyone."

"I don't have to, but die verdomde idioot maakt me gek."

"I have no idea what you just said but please, focus on driving; everything else is not important."

The girl tightened her grip on the steering wheel and accelerated. Everything else was important because she wasn't worse than anyone. And she would prove it, even if she had to—

Darkness.

Y/N only remembered losing consciousness during the accident. She found out about falling off the track, somersaulting through the gravel and still hitting the metal barriers at 120 kilometers per hour only after the fact.

On the track, only one Red Bull car remained, but Max wasn't focused on driving; he was engrossed with the past argument he got with his friend. However, a voice from the radio snapped him back to reality.

"Y/N had an accident on turn eleven. Be careful on the surface in that area."

"What happened?"

"It's hard to say, but it didn't look good."

Max pressed harder on the gas, wanting to pass the accident site as quickly as possible and ensure the situation was under control. When he saw the wrecked car, smoke billowing and no rescue personnel nearby, Max's adrenaline froze his veins.

He parked his car at a distance from the accident, hastily releasing himself from the safety harness. When he got out of the car and saw the fire, he didn't think too much; he ran towards the friend's car, shouting her name, but there was no response.

Max fought against time. Besides him, there was no one to extinguish the fire and he had no idea what temperature the fuel in the tank was. He quickly pulled Y/N out of the wrecked car and, holding her in his arms, ran towards his own car. Hiding behind it, he laid her on the ground and, as gently as he could, removed her helmet and balaclava. He checked her pulse and fortunately, it was there. The impact force must have caused her to lose consciousness.

After some time, the appropriate services arrived at the scene and an ambulance took the girl to the hospital. Max knowing he couldn't finish the race, jumped into the ambulance and squeezed his friend's hand. He was furious with her, but now all the emotions were overshadowed by concern and fear. He hoped that the accident only looked serious and that she was just bruised. Max would never forgive himself if something happened to her, especially because of some idiotic argument that ultimately had no meaning.

Y/N woke up just before the ambulance reached the hospital. She was surprised to see paramedics around her, even more so by Max's worried face, which, as soon as their eyes met, calmed down a bit.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to look into those deceitful eyes of yours." Verstappen said, smiling and squeezing her hand.

"What happened?"

The girl asked with difficulty. Her throat hurt terribly; the hot smoke and vapors had taken their toll.

"You had an accident and you passed out. We'll be at the hospital soon."

"An accident is an understatement," one of the paramedics interjected, removing her drip from the hanger. "You did a Grosjean from Bahrain 2020."

Y/N blinked a few times, and it took her a moment to connect the dots. Judging by the man's comparison, her accident must have indeed been unpleasant.

"What's the condition of the car?"

"Just needs a wipe," Max said, smiling.

The girl rolled her eyes at her friend's words, but started coughing. She quickly put her oxygen mask back on.

"Don't worry about the car," Max said, still keeping her hand between his, "The most important thing is that you came back to us."

"At what cost? At least, being unconscious meant I didn't have to look at you."

Y/N said sarcastically, but she smiled. Everything hurt terribly, but she was grateful that, after this whole situation, she could see a familiar face. Even though it was red and sweaty from the race, it had a genuine smile and tenderness in his eyes.

"I guess she's fine, gentlemen. You can take her back to the track; she'll be able to finish the race for sure," Max said loudly, turning around. Y/N laughed quietly at his words and he returned her smile, squeezing her hand tighter.

The girl didn't realize that the fucking idiot sitting next to her was not just her friend, occasional rival and someone she sometimes wanted to tear apart. Max Verstappen, the mad Dutchman, turned into her guardian angel that evening. And she, the fearless Dutchess, started falling in love with him.

#f1 imagines #f1 one shot #f1 #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #mv33 #red bull

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cheriladycl01 · 2 months

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I cant do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader Part 5

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, you've worked your whole life to become an engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn't want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull Racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as your present father figure.

Credit to russellius for the GIF

There was a pretty decent break between Brazil and Las Vegas, you spend the first week with Geri and Christian and their kids. You'd had a blast riding their horses, going for bike rides and lots of baking.

They of course let you stay with them in the spare bedroom, you went on a massive shopping spree with Geri getting some new clothes as you hadn't gone home and talked about everything you normally would with Suzie. You couldn't lie, you really missed her, especially the hugs she gave you.

However on the weekend before Vegas, Lewis had texted you seeing if you'd wanted to stay with him in Las Vegas for a bit. Lewis had known you since 2009, you were 9 years old. You always came to as many race weekends as you could, obsessed with F1 as much as your dad. You loved the fast cars and the smell of the fuel.

Here was were you were introduced to Suzie, it was perfect time really. You were a 9 year old girl, about to enter here teen years without a mother figure. And Suzie and you, got on like two peas in a pod.

In 2012 when he became the executive director in Williams you travelled with him. Your mum didn't want anything to do with you, so that left you to be home school. It wasn't easy in Williams, they were tight on money and resources despite Toto's financial contributions to the team and no-body had time for you it seemed.

The next year when your dad moved to Mercedes, that had a slightly bigger budget and more time around the paddock was when it became easier.

The engineers helped you with your math's and science while marketing and legal would help you with your English. That's where your love of engineering came from.

Lewis would often stay with you, he and Nico were like brothers and they couldn't help but see you like a little sister with the relentless teasing they put you through.

As you got older, Toto paid for you to have an online tutor so you could sit your GCSE's at some point. 2016 was probably the worst year you had on record apart from everything that's happened in 2023.

You could tell that when they started to compete for the championship in 2014 that things were getting tense between them, they tried to keep it to themselves but you could tell with the post race interviews and how they didn't want to hang out as much together with you.

But in 2016, when Nico won and their friendship had pretty much crumbled as far as it could you, you were also sitting those GCSE's and it was a really tough year for you. Lewis and Nico now spoke to you separately, their sides of the garage never crossing over like they used to.

So you not only had the stress of your GCSE's, the stress of your two role models no longer talking and with that your own childhood best friend cutting you off because of how much you travelled and your commitments not being strong enough. And to top it of Nico was confirmed to be leaving the sport which would mean you wouldn't see him as often.

However, despite everything that went on you came out with some really good grades, thanks to Lewis and his help when it come to studying.

You actually met George the year after when he became a junior driver for Mercedes. You had just turned 17 and he was 20 and part way working his way up through the feeder series into Formula One.

You actually had a crush on George all the way back then, Lewis convinced you it was just a silly little school girl crush you'd soon get over and motorsport men were a walking red flag. Which you found out was true with your first heartbreak when you dated an F2 driver that was the same age as you. You dad of course was hesitant at first, and he was right to be. He cheated on you with one of the insta models 7 months into your relationship.

Lewis did a lot for you and you guys were close, so you almost felt like you couldn't say no even though you didn't want to anyway.

You got the first flight you could out to his LA mansion.

"Hello" he greeted you as you'd found him in the airport with his security. There was of course Paps so it was only a short amount of time before people knew you were here with Lewis.

He drove the pair of you back to his LA home, you guys spent the rest of the week surfing, go-karting and walking Roscoe. Everyone knew you were here by now so you posted a photo dump on the Wednesday to Instagram, photos of everything you guys had been up to.

Everyone in the comments was so excited that big brother Lewis was back.

"So, I think now that we've had some time to chill out we should talk about the serious matters on the table" Lewis says as he spoons some of the vegan dish his private chef had made you guys.

"Mmmm?" you hum as you gobble more of the delightful food down.

"I miss you in the Mercedes Garage and the red bull top doesn't suit you" he says making your head whip to the side.

"Excuse me!" you nearly choke on your food.

"Look, I know what Toto and George did was foul... and others have made it into this whole dramatic show, but I miss teasing you in the garage and I miss you telling the engineers something was wrong and trying not to laugh! I miss you! Everyone does, George, Toto, Suz, all the hospitality and mechanics and the engineers!" he offers looking at you.

"I'm not coming back to Mercedes Lew, I've found my place in Red Bull, they've even let me help on the 2024 car! My dad turned me down straight away when i asked, they trust me there and they like my ideas! I'll talk to both of them okay, I promise but Red Bull stuck their neck out for me hiring me... so I owe them!" you admit, knowing Red Bull helped you a lot, as much as you'd helped them.

"I know I know, but just talk to them soon. They are both suffering and they regret what they did!"

You drove in Lewis car all the way to Nevada. It was only a 4 hour drive where you guys did make stops along the way. You guy's parted ways as you got there. He needed to be present for media duties and you had to be with Red Bull making sure the car was up to standard.

You checked in with everyone you hadn't seen for the two week gap, checking in with the mechanics making sure they though the car was looking okay after the race.

And before you knew it Max was coming out of FP1 in 4th, FP2 in 6th and FP3 in 4th. It was a new track and everyone was getting used to the it and how the car performed on it. In Practices it was more for the driver to get the feel for the car.

Max qualified P3, but because Carlos had to take a 10 place grid penalty he was moved up to P2. He was on the front line next to Charles Leclerc and if he got a good start he could finish again P1.

Vegas was a stressful race for everyone. Charles and his Ferrari was made for the layout of this street circuit it seemed. Lando had a really bad crash which had everyone worried.

Ferrari, once again fucked up their strategy as you called Max to box when the safety car was released. Charles had only pitted a few laps prior. Now Max and Sergio were on the fresher tires.

"Warm those tires up Max then when DRS is available go for that overtake on Turn 3 for P1" you advise as he rolls out of the pits behind the safety car that Charles was already following.

Eventually you had both Red Bulls in the front ready for a 1-2 podium. But on the final lap Charles went for the overtake on Sergio and broke the Red Bulls up, there was no way he'd catch up with Max but you told him to hold his position.

Again Max Verstappen had one his 18th race of the season and you'd been his race engineer for a whole new track. He'd pulled you into a massive hug, along with Christian who was impressed with how quickly you were adapting to the new role.

"Amazing driver guys! Straight to Abu Dhabi now!" Christian grins, nothing could now ruin his mood. Max had been confirmed Champion of the World a few races back but Red Bull still wanted to prove they were winners.

And that you did, you went to Abu Dhabi and one again by a landslide. You all celebrated the end of the season and Max asked you to come up on the podium with him again. However, George had come P3. so you were up on the Podium with him and Charles too.

The champagne was brought out and all the guys showered each other before coming over to you. They soaked you with the rest of the champagne the dark team gear sticking to your skin.

"Omg" you squeal as someone pulls back your top and dumps some of their champagne down your back. You swivel round to see George. Everything is so loud around you right now. Charles and Max are off celebrating the podium together a little further away from the pair of you now.

"George" you say looking up at him and he sheepishly takes a step back.

"George, no! I'm sorry I didn't speak to you sooner" you say looking at him, only for his head to cock to the side where he couldn't here you.

"What?" he shouts coming closer.

You lean in right up to his ear so that he can actually here you.

"I'm sorry I ignored you for so long. I was being childish. Lewis... Lewis talked some sense into me." you say.

"You-" he starts confused. He was the one that owed you an apology not the other way around.

"Y/N listen to me. Meet me tonight and we will talk about everything I promise!" he shouts making you able to hear him over the crowd.

"Okay!" you nod, before turning around and the Red Bull team all cheer as you hold up the trophy.

"Oh and George, Congrats of P3!" you grin, before joining Max and Charles.

Maybe it was time for you to talk it out. Maybe even to reach out to your dad! Lewis was as always right!

Taglist:

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#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #george russel imagine #george russel x reader #george russell x reader #george russell #george russell imagine #gr63 #gr63 x reader #gr63 imagine #lewis hamilton imagine #toto wolff #max verstappen imagine

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queer-reader-07 · 4 months

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you know what i think really gets me as a good omens fan who also grew up catholic? the very human approach it takes to morality.

i can’t speak for every denomination of christianity, but i can speak to catholicism. i grew up in the church, i went to catholic school, i was confirmed for fuck’s sake. i know the catholic church. the ways in which it eats away at your self esteem. the ways in which it makes you feel like you are a terrible person because you’ve sinned in one way or another. the way you’re taught the concept of original sin as though it isn’t deeply unsettling to believe that all humans are born corrupt. you’re taught that you were born tainted by satan, you as a baby you as a child you who doesn’t even know your place in this world yet. you are sinful because you are human.

there is no room for shades of grey in catholicism. you have either sinned or you haven’t. you are either good or you are bad. you are either going to heaven or you are cursed to damnation. (yeah yeah purgatory and all that but if i’m being honest the diocese i was a part of never really talked about it)

we all know the church is corrupt. every catholic knows that, but whether or not we ever admitted it to ourselves and accepted it as truth is another story. you cannot deny the staggering statistics regarding catholic priests assaulting and molesting children. you cannot deny the financial corruption that has been present in the institution for centuries. but you can ignore it. you can ignore it and pretend like the church is perfect and good because if you allow yourself to admit it’s issues, you admit that maybe your entire world view is flawed. that maybe the idea of morality as being black and white is wrong.

that's what i grew up with. with these contradictory beliefs. these adults in power telling me i was inherently sinful because i was human while also being told that God loves me. that God will save me from myself. so i grew up thinking someone else could fix me. because if i was inherently bad i couldn't fix myself.

but of course, the truth is, i don't need fixing. i'm not broken or bad. i'm human.

when aziraphale described adam as "human incarnate" i got EXTREMELY emotional. because to be human incarnate is to be not good or bad. it's to just be. be whoever it is you are. make the best choices you can. will they all be perfect? of course not. but will you be trying your damndest? yes.

good omens is a breath of fresh air for me and my religious trauma because the thesis of the story is that black and white thinking is unproductive at best and actively harmful at worst. you cannot live a fulfilling life while also believing there is only Bad and Good, and that Bad and Good are inherent.

good omens is a comfort because it reminds me in more ways than one that i'm worthy of love. i'm worthy of life. i don't have to be perfect, far from it. i'm allowed to be messy and make mistakes, but none of that means i don't deserve to be here. none of that means i'm a Bad Person. i'm just, A Person.

i'm trying. i've always tried. tried to love the best i can, tried to be the best person i can be, tried to live my life to the fullest, tried to cultivate joy for myself.

my brain is a mess. and 15 years, give or take, of being fully immersed in the catholic church (including 7 years of catholic school) definitely didn't help. i am still riddled with catholic guilt and toxic mental frameworks because of the time i spent in the church.

but good omens helps me work through it just that little bit more. it's there in its corner of my heart saying "hey. you're human. you're not Bad or Good, you're You. and you're trying."

it's... comforting. yeah, i think that's the right word.

#found this one in my drafts and finally decided to finish it #good omens #good omens meta #gomens meta #cw religious trauma #religious trauma #catholic trauma #catholicism

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billthedrake · 1 month

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ACCOUNTABILITY (PART TWO)

Jim felt deeply ashamed. There was the shame that he'd caved to his baser sexual urges. Even when he having conjugal relations with his wife, the married father imagined he was fucking some nubile 19 year old porn chick from the Hot Guys Fuck video. Then, as Jim got closer and closer to cumming, Jim imagined a hot, jacked college dude in bed with them, hot masculine hands touching his body while he fucked. The very forbidden notion made him cum like gangbusters. And kept him hard after.

But the real shame came from the fact that his son had more willpower than than him. After the two escalated their infractions on the Covenant Watch app, Ryan stopped looking at porn. Cold turkey, stopping as quickly as he started. There were some exchanges of eye contact between them, almost like Ryan was apologizing silently for stopping the little game the two were playing.

Jim never felt prouder of his boy. He'd imagined his role as a father was to lead his family by Christian example, and here his eldest was taking that role for him. It was humbling as hell, but Jim McCready also realized that humility was part of the church's teachings. His Ryan had led him astray almost to teach him that lesson.

And it was reassuring to have his world returned. Family life. Church twice a week, dinners together, soccer practice for the younger kids, football games on Friday.

Thanksgiving Eve was the big end of regular season for Ryan's team. Practically a high holiday in their small town. It was a close game, which only made the victory that much more thrilling. On a Ryan McCready TD catch no less.

It was a storybook end to his son's high school football career, which is what made the notifications on his phone bright and early Thanksgiving morning that much more of a surprise.

Covenant Watch showed 92 infractions.

"Fuck!" Jim thought to himself, almost saying it out loud. He was mad at Ryan, genuinely mad. This wasn't dipping his toes into sin, it was wallowing in it. And Jim was mad that Ryan was doing this only because the teen expected his father wouldn't do shit to stop him. Jim was angry he'd been made accomplice to this, because of his own weakness.

Jim slipped on some casual clothes and made his way to his study. He wasn't sure he could use the excuse of checking work emails on Thanksgiving morning, but he needed privacy.

Every video was a gay porn video. Jim began clicking on each link. There were ones of jocks with coaches, and ones with two college-looking guys fooling around. There were amateur hookup ones, and some gloryhole cocksucking vids. Jim was lightheaded as he watched each one.

He wasn't going to get through 92 of them, or close. He didn't have time. And he was too turned on. He quietly lowered his sweats and spit into his palm. He went back to one of the coach and jock ones and pressed play. Four tugs was all it took for the man to send his cum flying all over his desk.

"Fuck!" he grunted as he came down. He grabbed some Kleenex to wipe off and clean up. He felt out of control, like a teenager, like Ryan, but strangely the intense emotions of guilt were gone. A good orgasm will do that for you.

Even when his son came down for breakfast, sleepy from what was clearly a late night stroking off, Jim didn't feel self conscious. Ryan and he had more in common than he ever expected. Jim wondered if he'd have to have a talk to check in with his son.

Ryan took a private moment later that morning to lean in and whisper to his father. "I needed to treat myself after winning the game last night," he said. "Hope that's OK, Dad."

Jim McCready was in full accomplice mode now. Ryan knew he wasn't going to say anything or do anything. And the comment was as much to save face for Jim as anything.

Still, the father didn't want to let on that anything bothered him. If Ryan was gonna make Jim his accountability accomplice, he was gonna lean into it all. "With that catch buddy, you probably earned more than 92 dings."

Ryan was surprised, at first. But then broke into a smile. "That was pretty awesome, right?"

Jim clipped his son's strong back with his hand, a paternal pat of affection. "Insane, Killer..." Jim winked. "Doesn't mean you don't get out of helping out your mother today, though."

Ryan laughed. One of his duties was to help with the prep and cleanup for his mom for Thanksgiving dinner. He was kind of her go-fer for the morning. "I'll get dressed."

***

Jim felt like he'd handled it well. This was just Ryan's hormones spiking. The kid would get over his kink soon. Find his willpower again. Hopefully settle down with a steady girfriend, though Jim's doubts there were starting to nag him.

Besides, he had his own hormones out of control. He found himself with an alone moment and idly pulled out his phone. "Two can play at this, kiddo," he said quietly and pulled up Pornhub. Selected Gay setting and searched for "coach." Some of the thumbnails looked fake. 28-year old "jocks" with 30-year old "coaches." Fake sets, fake clothes. But one was real enough. Hidden camera, dim lighting, real bodies. The jock was of age, Jim reflected thankfully, but maybe a college freshman or sophomore. Bent over a standard-issue metal desk and getting railed by a beefy coach, zip up top and whistle around his neck and naked from the waist down.

Jim McCready was hard as a rock. Even after jerking off that morning, his dick pressed a thick ridge in his jeans. He didn't have time to watch more than this and over the next four minutes he forgot he was doing this to taunt Ryan. He was caught up in the fantasy and his own bodily response to watching two men fuck.

"Fuck," he hissed as he closed the vid and slid the phone back in his pocket. He was hyperventilating. He reached down to grip his boner, trying to pinch it into submission. Thinking about his work stresses or the friendly wager he had with his buddies on the Cowboys and Lions games that day.

When he was presentable, he made his way back to the family room. The younger kids were watching some movie on TV, and the domestic scene made Jim feel another pang of guilt. He had a wonderful family, a devout family, and here he and Ryan were sinning. Not just sinning, but enjoying their mutual sin.

But the father let his attention drift into the movie.

"Hey Dad," Ryan's voice said from behind him. Jim turned to see his strapping son standing there, car keys in hand. "Mom wanted me to go pick up some milk at the convenience store... need anything?"

Jim used to chastise Ryan for going out underdressed for winter weather, but the kid seemed not to have a normal relationship to cold. It might be Alabama, but it was still November. Only now the father was glad to see Ryan in just shorts and his FCA t-shirt, the gold cross necklace matching his father's. Maybe it was the way Ryan's clean-cut image hid a truly naughty side.

"I'm good, buddy," he said, trying to take his eyes off his son's lean, tall, muscular body.

Jim was still processing his thoughts after Ryan left when he felt his phone vibrate. There was a text from Ryan.

"Good taste."

It was cheeky and impertinent and just the right thing to write to turn Jim on. Somehow Ryan's text arrived right before the Covenant Watch notification. "Video watched: Pornub, Coach fucks player after the game"

Jim McCready's heart pounded. He slyly looked to make sure the family was engrossed in the TV before he typed a reply. "I would have thought 92 would have been enough for you, kiddo." Gently chastising but mostly playful.

Ryan's reply was immediate. "I'm 18, Dad. What do you think?"

Jim's throat felt tight. He was getting horny. Again. The idea of Ryan getting off multiple times a day fueled his imagination. "I think I should be stricter with you," he wrote back. Jim couldn't tell if he meant it tongue-in-cheek or earnestly.

Ryan didn't reply. Hell, for all the times he'd told his son not to text and drive, he should have been happy. But Jim worried he'd put an end to his game. And he hated that he wanted it to continue.

Ryan picked it back up when the father least expected it. There was always a flurry of activity in the McCready household as the kids helped their mother bring all the food to the table and as Jim poured the water glasses at each place setting. They were just sitting down when Ryan appeared, face flushed. His son was up to something, Jim knew, and from the buzz in his pocket, Jim had a good idea what.

"Let's say grace," he said. Then he led the family in prayer.

The meal was sweet torture for Jim. Keeping his good-father poker face on while they ate and talked. He didn't feel boner-horny but that kind of nervous energy horny. And Ryan's flitting eye contact had something else going on. The kiddo was nervous.

And when they'd finished up, Ryan offered to do Jim's normal task of cleaning up. "You go watch the game, Dad," he said. "I got this."

Jim's wife gave a look of pleasant surprise. Jim returned it the best he could but he had a feeling Ryan had an ulterior motive.

The women in the McCready household would watch Auburn football but had no use for the NFL. So Jim's wife and their two daughters got ready to go out to the park for a post-meal walk. They were always making talk about eating too much and needing to walk off their meal.

They'd barely left when Jim checked his phone. The Covenant Watch notification read: " Video watched: XVideos, Gaycest, Sauna Time." The father looked over at his two boys. Mitchell was engrossed in the game. Ryan was pretending to be, while sneaking glances over at his dad.

Jim gulped. His heart raced. This was so wrong.

Slyly he picked up his phone again and typed out a text to Ryan. "Can't wait to watch it buddy." Blushing as he did.

Ryan smiled as he read it. And quickly typed back a reply. "It's really good, Dad."

Jim was throwing hard. He didn't really want Ryan to see his boner, and he definitely didn't want Mitchell seeing it. With a lewd thought the father realized his younger son would probably grow into the studly jock looks Ryan had. But that was a ways off.

The dad slid the phone into his pocket and waited for a commercial break. His hardon had almost gone down. Almost. He stood up from the couch and made his way to the restroom. He probably didn't have a lot of time, but he needed to watch this, at least part of it.

His heart was in his throat he was so excited. The title promised the taboo material, but surely this wasn't gonna be what Jim thought it was? As he clicked and watched, it was. There wasn't any explicit dad-and-son dialogue, but the two guys were clearly cast that way, in a sauna, getting hard with each other, before sucking each other.

Jim wanted to stroke. But he was already taking longer in there than he should. If Mitchell hadn't been around, he thought with a shudder. With a pinch at the base of his prick, he willed himself into a softer state then stuffed his meat back into his briefs.

His face was flushed when he returned. Ryan noticed and had a grin. Mitchell was oblivious.

"Good?" came Ry's text.

Unconsciously, Jim nodded. But he typed anyway. "The best I've seen."

Ryan gave a darting glance over to his little brother. The jock was enjoying the sneaking around, Jim knew. Jim couldn't tell if he enjoyed that part too or if it was just uncomfortable torture.

A message came in on Jim's phone. "I've thought about that for a while."

Jim hadn't. But he knew he would now, and the idea Ryan had perved on him only made the idea hotter. "Yeah buddy?" he typed, now getting into the flirtation.

"You have no idea Dad." Ryan's cocky expression was giving way to a shy one.

Jim grinned now. "Maybe you can tell me sometime."

"I'd like that sir."

Jim McCready was boned now. Full on hard. He angled his body so Mitch couldn't see. But he spread his legs so Ryan could.

The high school senior smirked and did his own manspreading. There was a hard ridge riding up his son's loose shorts.

Just then the front door opened, the sound coming in from the other room. The women were back.

***

Ryan woke up late. He'd stayed up edging before finally shooting a huge load. It wasn't quite 92 videos this time, but it was a couple dozen. And some incest porn stories. He was a little mad at himself for even denying himself porn before.

He had to laugh at his morning wood now. His father had actually eyed up his cock. And shown his own. Ryan leaned up in bed. Plenty of time to take care of his needs later. Maybe he and Dad could tease each other some more. Ryan was VERY surprised at how this had escalated. Maybe the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree.

And, as he checked his phone, there were 117 Covenant Watch infractions. Most incest themed, at least the top listings. Ryan didn't bother to scroll through them all.

"Fuck!" he gasped.

He got dressed and made his way down to the kitchen. It was empty and he could see why. It was 10 AM. His mom and sisters liked to hit the Black Friday sales. Ryan wandered through the house. He had a good idea where his father was. Indeed as he approached his father's study, he saw the door cracked. He gave a quick knock.

"Come in, buddy," came his father's voice.

His dad was seated as his desk, in his preppy polo shirt that molded to his fit muscular upper body. From where Ryan stood he wasn't sure what his father was wearing below the waist, but the man's hand was down at his crotch, clearly jerking off while he held the phone in his other hand.

Jim looked up at him with a horny look. "Mitchell's over at his friend's, the girls are gone... it's just us, Killer." The tone was jocular but with a raspy edge to it.

"Yeah?" Ryan asked. The implications setting in.

Jim nodded and with a fateful motion he set down his phone and stood up. The man was indeed naked beyond the polo, and a thick hard ridge of dad meat stood up, a slight curve to the otherwise ramrod straight boner.

"Fuck!" his son gasped. Any retreat of his morning wood was giving way to a renewed hardon.

Jim's heart raced. This was so wrong, and he couldn't even believe he was doing this. Showing off his cock to Ry. But the young stud had worked him up, enraged him as surely as waving a red flag at an angry bull. The father's libido was now out of control. "You wanted to see me, right?"

Ryan nodded. He'd been the one to push the envelope so it was wild to see his father take the initiative like this. Silently he pushed his own shorts down, over his matching teen boner.

"Nice..." Jim grinned. "You're hotter than those porn dudes," he added.

Ryan could barely speak he was so horny. "You, too. I mean... fuck!"

Jim walked around, slowly, his thick hard paternal dick waving some with his steps. "We got a few hours alone, buddy."

Ryan was moving toward his dad, too. Was this really gonna happen? The touch of his father's hand on his hip was the first indication it would. Then a second later, their dicks touched, two McCready cocks making contact.

"God help me, son," Jim hissed as leaned in and turned his head just slightly before his lips pressed against Ryan's.

The jock was light headed as he felt his father's tongue trace his lips, then press into Ryan's opening mouth. It was his first french kiss was a dude, and it was his own dad. The videos of incest had been hot as fuck, but this was on another level. Pure mindblowing thrill. He hissed back and started feeling up any bit of his dad's body he could.

Jim was doing the same, humping Ryan's hard crotch and feeling up the kid's bare ass. "My room or yours buddy?" the man finally asked with a bedroom voice Ryan had never heard from his father. It was one that could have barely imagined. Sultry, deep, and playful.

"God, yours, Dad," he hissed. It was SO wrong to fool around in his parent's bed, and yet that's what Ryan wanted.

Jim grinned at that and gave Ryan's rump a light slap. For 18, the kid had an amazing rump, muscular and thick. "Naughty boy," he hissed. "My room it is."

Ryan's heart was pounding double time as his Dad led the way. Jim had an incredible ass, too, meatier and thicker with age. But his father was in shape and still a total stud. The two stripped down completely before the man sat on the bed's edge and pulled Ryan's cock body toward him. They kissed in that position a second, before Jim grunted and used his strength to leverage his football jock son up and on to the mattress.

Ryan was seeing a new Jim McCready, and feeling his father in all the man's nakedness too, as Jim climbed on top of his son, kissing and mauling every inch of the younger flesh.

"Dad," Ryan grunted. So turned on, but his mind racing a million miles an hour. "We could get caught."

"Fuck yeah we could," Jim growled before covering his son's mouth with his own. Again, that deep tongue kiss, more urgent than before. Jim McCready was full-on enraged with lust and it was rubbing off on Ryan. The older man had a grin when he finally pulled back. "But we're probably not gonna."

Already his was using his legs to push his son's legs apart. "You cherry, Ry?" he asked in a throaty rasp.

Ryan nodded. He was nervous but harder than he'd ever been in his life. Feeling his dad's body, seeing his dad's cock, and witnessing his dad's sexual hunger. That gold cross necklace a reminder of his father's outstanding public persona, a contrast to the sin they were committing now. "Yes, sir."

That answer made Jim's nostrils flare in excitement. Already he was reaching over for lube in the nightstand. It didn't get a lot of use. His and Kelly's sex life was normal, vanilla, and while Jim resorted to masturbation some he kept his habit in check. At least until lately.

"You can say no anytime, Ryan," he said, the father role returning, even as he applied the liquid to his son's jock hole.

"I want it, Dad," Ryan answered, his body breaking into goosebumps to feel his Dad's finger circle then penetrate his tight sphincter. He looked down at where Jim's arm was wedged between his spread legs and back up into this dad's hungry eyes. "I'm scared," the teen added. "But I want it."

Jim nodded. His finger pressed in and out slowly. "I got ya buddy. I just want this SO bad." He leaned in and kissed his boy while he fingered Ryan with a second digit. Then a third.

They didn't extend the foreplay. They were too worked up, and they'd been building up to this for the last 24 hours.

Ryan wish it didn't hurt, but the penetration stung.

"There, buddy," Jim said, the softer side of his bedroom voice coming out. "I'm inside in ya, Killer. Inside my son."

"Fuck, Dad," Ryan gasped. The psychological side of the incest fuck was winning out over the physical sensation.

More dad dick was sliding in him. "This is what you wanted right? What you wanted when you first sent me those videos?"

Ryan pulled his legs wider. Trying to accept his father inside him. He needed every inch of his dad now. "I don't know. Is this what you wanted when you set up the accountability buddies thing?"

Jim bottomed out and wildly kissed his son again. Not a protracted kiss, but deep. He pulled back with a leer on his face. Already his was pumping Ryan, fucking him. "I had no fucking idea, Killer. No idea how depraved I was."

"I like you depraved, Dad." Ryan said, maybe louder than he should. But they had the house to themselves. Hopefully.

His dad's hips pumped faster. The physicality of the cock thrusting in and out felt good to Ryan, the harshness turning into a pleasant intensity that made his ass and cock and hole buddy buzz.

"You got it, Ry. Gonna be hard to keep my hands off you." The man was losing focus, the pleasure and tightness of Ryan's ass getting him close so soon. He paused and reached over for the lube again. He'd watched this in the videos, the bottom jerking off while getting fucked. He wanted his son to get off, too, like one of those porn dudes.

The second Ryan's hand wrapped around his lubed prick, the sensations in his ass felt night and day different. No longer challenging, every movement of his father's cock, whether small or deeper, made his cock feel more pleasurable.

"Go for it, buddy," Jim urged. Fucking faster, leaning in more to gaze down into Ryan's youthful handsome face. The father was gonna cum any minure, any second, but he hoped his son would get there too.

"Fuck me Dad!" the jock cried, his toes curling and his body entering a deep O.

"God yeah, Ry! Shoot it!" Jim watched in excitement as heavy ropes of white cum shot out and landed on Ryans' mostly smooth ripped torso.

Three more hard shoves was all it took for Jim to unload. Ass fucking was so different than sex with Kelly. Jim was addicted.

The father and son made out, clinging to one another while the dad's prick slowly softened and retreated it.

Jim was in tender lover mode as he stroked Ryan's hair and held the boy close. "So.. I got your cherry...."

"Yes, sir," Ryan said. It was wild the number hormones did on you, the teen thought. Making you hard charging one minute, clingy the next. He'd experienced this with girls, but with his dad it was a hundred times deeper. "I'm glad you got it."

"I'm going to hell," Jim said, half a joking comment but the religious misgivings were real and coming on strong.

"It'll be worth it," Ryan said softly. "Please... don't freak out on me, Dad."

Jim gave a smile and patted Ryan's warm chest. "OK, no freaking out, buddy. Promise." He looked up at the clock. "We have maybe two hours. Wanna get showered off?"

Ryan nodded. He was glad his father helped him up off the bed. The jock felt surprisingly drained from the sex.

The energy came back as they shared a shower, though. Sudsing and rinsing each other. Kissing each other beneath the spray. Getting hard again. Jim held his son and pulled the wet warm athletic body toward his. The kid was right. Hell would be worth it. His hands snaked down to cup Ryan's bubble ass, a finger digging in naughtily.

"How you doing down there, Killer?" Jim asked, concern but also flirtation in his voice. The father felt very honored to have taken his stud son's anal virginity.

Ryan gave a soft grin. "Empty, sir."

Jim let out a soft grunt. He kissed Ryan, harder, then pulled off and turned the football jock around.

Ryan knew what was happening and he wanted it. Who knows how often he and Dad would have the chance for this. He braced one arm against the tile wall and reached back to pull one cheek apart, letting his father in.

Jim was fuck hard now, and quickly sudsed up for lubrication. The entry was easy now, Ryan now learning how to relax.

Ryan grunted a grunt of pleasure. His dad hit some amazing spot deep inside him. "Yes," he hissed just as he felt his dad's lips kiss the back of his neck.

"It's like fucking honeymoon sex," Jim growled. Thrusting into his boy once more.

It was a thrill to hear his dad curse and get that bedroom voice. But Ryan's head also went to the idea of his dad fucking his mother on their honeymoon. Maybe that's when Ryan was conceived...

Their pairing was less verbal as the men communicated with their bodies. Jim's slow but urgent pump in and out of Ryan's ass, the father's hands caressing and holding the jock's wet muscle. Ryan arching his back in just the right position to be taken.

Jim came alone this time. His muscular middle aged body thrusting more spasmodically into his son's smoother one, the grip around Ryan's torso getting tighter and more possessive as he nutted inside his son's bare ass for a second time. Then the soft kisses and relaxation returning.

"God, Dad," Ryan whined. He so turned on. He never wanted this feeling to end yet he also needed to get off.

There was that light smack again as Jim withdrew. "Turn around," came the back of an order.

Ryan complied automatically, showing off a hardon that was matched in size and shape to his father's. Not a twin, but clearly related.

Already Jim was crouching down in the shower, the spray soaking his hair as he leaned in and swallowed his boy's prick.

"Yeah!" Ryan gasped. He was so primed it wasn't going to take long. Just six or so bobs of his father's mouth on his cock did it. Ryan was spurting hard and heavy into Jim's craw.

The jock didn't know what to expect but he watched as his dad clearly swallow it all. The man had a proud look on his face when he finally stood up too. "All right, let's get dressed. I better air out the bedroom too."

Ryan was concerned that the post-nut business-like vibe was his Dad's way of feeling guilty. Or dealing with the guilty. As he went back to his room and got properly dressed, Ry felt like he should be feeling guilty himself. But he wasn't. He went to his father's study and gathered his and his dad's shorts and brought them and his father's phone to him.

"No one can fucking know," Jim said. Not harshly but clearly needing to say it.

"Of course, Dad. Jesus."

Jim smiled and patted Ryan's arm. "You've certainly grown into a fine looking man."

Ryan grinned back. He could see a glint in his dad's eyes. "You wanting round three, sir?"

Jim laughed. "Can't fucking risk it, buddy. But yeah..."

An idea occurred to him. "Why don't you keep a watch?"

That got the dad excited. "You mean?"

Ryan nodded. So Jim stepped to the bedroom window, where he could peer out onto the driveway.

Meanwhile his son knelt down and started unzipping his father's jeans. The dick was plump and firmed out completely in Ryan's fingers.

"Oh yeah, buddy," Jim hissed. Ryan had about as much technique as he did - not a lot - but it didn't matter. His kid was eager and the idea of getting a Ryan McCready blowjob had Jim getting close in due order.

"I'm gonna blow," that bedroom voice hissed. A warning.

Ryan kept at it, though, sucking a little faster and trying to take another inch of his dad's cock into his throat. The whole experience was incredible. He didn't even know if he'd enjoy sucking another guy remotely like he did his father.

The cum shot wasn't heavy. Just a spurt and some dribbles. But Ryan was tasting his dad's cum for the first time. Sweet and briny. He knew he'd want more in the future.

He finally backed off to see his dad grinning down on him, even as the man was already tucking himself back into his jeans. "That, young man, was amazing." He looked out the window. "Fuck!" he grunted.

Ryan didn't need to be told. He got up and made his way down to the family room. He turned on the TV and found some ESPN channel, right before he heard his mom and sisters walk in.

"You're dressed," his mother said when she saw Ryan. "I thought you might sleep in the whole day." Then, "Where's your dad?"

Ryan shrugged, playing dumb. "I don't know. In his study, maybe."

Already his sisters were rushing past with shopping bags, acknowledging their older brother, but barely.

Ryan's phone buzzed. He saw he had a message from his friend Kyle. But the latest one was from his father. "Thank you, buddy. I owe ya."

Ryan smiled. Then another message came in. "James McCready, Covenant Watch app removed."

"You dog," Ryan quietly said to himself. Then proceeded to remove the app on his own phone.

#drakestories

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crazychaoticizzy · 10 months

Text

Slutty Red Dress

The very second Eren saw that purity ring on your finger, he knew he needed to have you for himself. Lucky for him, you're trying to figure out the perfect way to piss off your parents.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, all characters are of age, modern au, college au, fuckboy!Eren, Catholic!Reader, drinking, Fem!Reader, brief mentions of homophobia, smut, oral (f receiving), public fingering, exhibition, virginity loss, dirty talk?, unprotected sex, creampie, light choking, degradation (kind of?), praise, mating press, probably unrealistic but that's fine, definitely not beta read, proof read or even reread by me, let me know if I missed anything

Word Count: 4.6k

Masterlist

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The moment Eren Yeager saw that purity ring sparkling on your finger was the moment he knew he was the one that needed to take your virginity.

He didn't even know you all that well—you were just an awkward acquaintance that sat beside his best friend all four years of high school. He only ever saw you in passing, be it walking past you in the hallways or across the cafeteria laughing with your friends.

He never paid you any mind until one day, the day you turned sixteen, you walked into school with a ring on your finger.

You wore it everyday, and Eren eventually asked around and found out it was a purity ring your parents had given you.

Since then he'd been doting on you, finding reasons to sit near you or talk to you. He'd started greeting you in the hallways and waving to you in the lunchroom.

He practically stalked your Instagram page to see if you had a boyfriend and learn any other information about you. That was how he found out you were a devoted Christian waiting to give yourself away until marriage. To his knowledge you remained single throughout all of high school, hardly showing an interest in anyone.

That same routine had gone on for years, but the effort proved to be fruitless because you always either sneaked away before he had a chance at a proper conversation or were surrounded by your friend group.

When the first year of college came around he prayed to God that you hadn't moved out of the city to attend some fancy ivy league school. You had always been a million times smarter than everyone in your graduating class and he knew the list of extracurriculars you'd participated in over the years went on for miles. Any college would be lucky to have you.

But when the first semester came around, you were there, coming out of the campus Starbucks holding a mystery drink.

With that fucking purity ring on your finger.

He was almost surprised—he remembered you saying towards the end of your senior year that you had planned to go to Stanford, he'd even heard later in the summer that you had been accepted. What baffled him was why you would choose Paradis University over the dozens of much better schools you applied to and (most likely) got accepted into.

After he digging around he found out that your parents had hidden all your acceptance letters and forged rejection letters instead. Apparently they didn't want you going where they couldn't keep a close eye on you.

It piqued Eren's interest, especially because from what he had seen you'd never shown interest in a romantic relationship.

The first couple weeks you had seemed pretty down, but soon enough you were back to the smiling, innocent girl Eren was used to.

—

He often saw you at parties, standing in the corner drinking from a plastic water bottle while you either scrolled on your phone or observed from the side. You never wore anything too out there or revealing, normally going for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He knew you were the designated driver for your friend group, and had tried multiple times to approach you only to be dragged back into the crowd by the girl he'd been talking to before you arrived.

He remembered the first time he saw you at a party, actively rejecting a guy hitting on you while you scrolled on your phone. It had been the first college party Eren had attended, and he remembered leaning over to whisper, "I'm gonna fuck her," in Armin's ear.

His gaze never left you, and when Armin turned his head to see who Eren was talking about he laughed.

Eren had raised his eyebrows at Armin as if to ask what was so funny.

Armin slowly nodded, softly chuckling. "Good luck with that. Have you met her?"

"Of course I have. She seems easy enough."

Arming laughed again, taking a sip of the off-brand beer in his hands. "Seems. She definitely isn't. Y'know how many guys have hit on her in the past? Plenty during the classes we've had together alone. She always rejected them, but not just that. She would destroy their egos, dude. Not to mention her parents are fucking psychos."

"Right, they forged rejection letters from ivy league schools just so she would have no choice but to stay where they could watch her," Eren said absentmindedly. Truth be told, he wasn't listening to a word Armin said, instead watching as you continued to give curt responses to whoever hit on you.

"They don't let her out of their sight. Ever. See her over there?" Armin vaguely motioned to the couch across the room, where a redhead wearing a tight green dress sat. "She's someone her parent's hired to follow her around and keep an eye on her."

Eren glanced over at the girl before his gaze returned to Armin. "And how do you know all this?"

Armin shrugged. "I'm the only person she talks to that isn't a church friend or was introduced by her parents. She tells me stuff she wouldn't dare tell them."

"So she knows she's being watched?"

"Of course she does. She doesn't know about the letters, though." Armin took another sip of his beer as Eren hummed, glancing back at you. He gently slapped Eren's arm when he was drifting from reality again. "Don't try anything. She's a sweet girl and doesn't need shit like you getting her in trouble with her parents."

Eren held his hands up in mock defense. "I wasn't even doing anything!"

Armin glared at him, the same scolding face he'd been giving Eren for years when he did something wrong. Eren rolled his eyes, dragging Armin to go play beer pong.

Three years later Eren was surprised your parents hadn't married you off already, purity ring still sparkling on your finger.

This was the year. He was determined to sleep with you at some point. Whether it be during the fall or spring semester, it would happen.

And it finally did one night when you were wearing a lovely red dress.

—

Imagine the look of surprise on Eren Yeager's face when he saw you—the sweet, innocent, Catholic girl that never wore or did anything to purposely arouse men—wearing the sluttiest red dress he'd ever seen, drink in hand and grinding your ass against some random guy.

He was so taken aback he froze, standing in the doorway as he watched the way your hips smoothly moved. He wondered where you learned to move like that for a moment before being pushed out of the doorway.

He tore his gaze off you, turning his head to give a half-assed apology to whoever had pushed him. When he turned back to look at you, your arms were wrapped around a woman, feeling her up before kissing her.

Eren's eyes widened. Oh, dear, what were you up to? Showing up to a frat party dressed in what you wore was one thing, he could assume you simply wanted to try it out for once, but kissing a girl? Especially when your parents were very publicly homophobic.

He's not exactly sure what, but something inside him knows tonight is the night.

And, dear God, with the way you're grinding against everyone but him makes him feel so hot and heavy.

You're still wearing your purity ring, but Eren takes note of how you so obviously make sure its seen. You're practically waving it in front of everyone's faces with the way you flip your hair behind your shoulder and exaggeratedly put your hand to your chest.

And Eren definitely doesn't miss the hungry look in his classmates' eyes as you do so. He had pushed the jealousy down, instead asking around to see if anyone knew what you were up to. No one knew, but he knew that he was going to be the one you did something with.

He sees the woman Armin pointed out to him years ago, the redhead hired to watch you, holding a red solo cup to her lips as she watched you. You definitely knew she was watching you, but that didn't stop you from feeling up and kissing more people.

Once, the only time he had taken his eyes off you that night, Eren turned back to find you pressed against a wall, legs wrapped around his friend Jean as he sucked on your neck. Eren couldn't hear you, but he saw your lips open to moan in Jean's ear.

You were making direct eye contact with Eren, and you smirked when he turned back to you. His cock had already been semi-hard, but dear god that look you gave him just made his ache for you stronger.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

You'd found out earlier that week what your parents had done to your acceptance letters before you even started college. You had been looking for something in their closet, and found a long forgotten box that held the letters inside.

You grew even more pissed as you read each one. This is what you could have had instead of attending some general college that accepts anyone that applies. You could've been at the ivy league school of your dreams instead of cooped up inside your parents' house all day.

Reading the letter from Stanford is what blew your fuse. You knew your parents were protective, but this was a lot more than necessary. This was the kind of bullshit psycho helicopter parents who set up hidden cameras in their children’s room pulled.

You decided that you needed to get them back some way.

You figured being an active participant in a college party would be enough to make them blow up, but while you were staring at Eren from across the room, pressed against the wall by one of his closest friends, you knew you wanted to do more.

You'd known Eren had the hots for you since your mother gave you the purity ring that sat on your finger. You knew that the reason he started talking to you so randomly was because he wanted to get into your pants.

You had hoped to get away from it when you were across the country, attending the school of your dreams.

And when your dad handed you the forged rejection letter, you hoped Eren's little obsession with taking your virginity would fizzle out once the first semester started.

You were very wrong about that. But you suppose that's a good thing, now. Especially since recently he seemed to have a different air about him, and suddenly your intention to make your parents as pissed off at you as you were at them seemed like a piece of cake. Losing your virginity—to a non-Christian at that—would definitely do that.

It's not like you genuinely wanted to wait until marriage, or even a committed relationship, anyway. You always figured that if the opportunity arose you'd take it, and it never did. Not with anyone you kind of liked, at least.

You gently pushed Jean away, making up some excuse about needing to go check on a friend. He nodded, kissing you once more before letting you go.

Jean was nice, but definitely not who you wanted your first to be.

You approached Eren with swaying hips, leaning on the kitchen counter beside him and innocently smiling up at him. You propped yourself on your arms, making sure to make your boobs look bigger by pushing them together.

"What are you doing, Miss Catholic?" he asked before you even got a chance to say anything. He offered you a drink from his cup, to which you politely declined.

"I don't think I know what you're talking about," you replied. You slowly licked your lips, watching as his eyes followed your tongue.

"Well the first thing I see walking in is yourself in this lovely little number." He gently grabbed your hand, making you straighten yourself out before making you spin for him. "And then I see you kissing a woman."

"Is there something wrong with that? I'm a supporter of the LGBT community, you know." He stopped spinning you, which gave you an opportunity to stand closer to him.

"I knew that you were, you're just not one publicly. Your parents hate that community and you would never do something that goes against their morals."

You softly hum. "What else am I doing?"

Eren's hand travels, finding itself resting on the small of your back. He pulls you against him, smiling down at you. "Well you're grinding and switching guys to make out with like a fucking whore. Trying to get attention, sweetheart?"

He leaned down, your noses nudging each other. "Jealous I've done that with everyone but you?"

"And what if I am?" Eren's voice is low and sultry, almost like he's trying to seduce you. Which he really doesn't have to do since you're already soaking your panties.

You let out a breath of amusement, smiling up at him as you bring a hand up to trail down his chest. “Listen, Eren, I know what you’re after.”

“What am I after?”

You meet his gaze. The emerald green of them reminds you of sin and evil, especially with the way Eren looks at you like you’re a piece of meat meant to be devoured.

Your hand tightens in his shirt, pulling him so close your lips nearly lock together. “You want to corrupt me,” you whisper. “You want to be the one that takes my virginity, don’t you?”

The way he grins and hums tells you everything you need to know. He’s still obsessed with that. Before, back in high school, you never would’ve dreamed you’d be in this position, but here you are, standing in a borrowed dress desperate to lose your virginity.

“I’m willing to give it to you,” you say in his ear. “If and only if we make a big deal of it first.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. “Oh? What do you mean by that?”

You softly hum. “I need to piss my parents off, and nothing will get them going more than knowing their little girl allowed herself to sin so willingly and have sexual intercourse before marriage. I need them to know that I did it. If we just go up to a room they can assume I didn’t give myself away like that. Their little assistant they hired to spy on me wouldn’t follow us to confirm whether or not I did it, so we need to do something she can report in her line of sight.”

Eren nodded, his fingers spreading across your back. “I can work something out for that.”

He smiles, a beautifully devious smile, and looks down at you. You return the smile, finally pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

—

Your soft intake of breath doesn’t go unnoticed. The redhead in green sits across the sitting area from where you and Eren are sat. You notice her eyes dart away from her phone towards you, her hands still pretending to scroll through social media.

You exaggerate another moan as he kisses your neck, spreading your legs even more to allow his fingers to slip inside of you instead of grazing over the insides of your thighs.

“You’re making it sound fake, sweetheart,” Eren whispers in your ear. He eyes the woman in green, watching as she crosses her legs and leans back on the couch. “Don’t force it.”

“Well sorry.” You roll your eyes. “I’ve never done this before.”

Your breath hitches when you feel the tips of his fingers softly graze your clothed pussy. God, you just know he can feel how wet you are. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so embarrassed about anything.

“God, you’re fucking wet. All this for me?”

Not exactly, you think. You had unintentionally turned yourself on while grinding against multiple people, allowing yourself to imagine for just a moment what it would be like to fuck them.

“Of course it isn’t. Because you’re nothing but a whore desperate to displease her parents.”

His words alone were enough to make you softly whine, but mixed with the way he delicately moved your panties to the side and ran his middle finger up to your clit had you moaning his name.

It wasn’t a secret what you two were doing, but no one cared. They were either too shit-faced to remember or were too focused on other things. The two of you were almost free as birds where you sat.

You sharply inhale, hand gripping the navy chair’s arm as he slowly slipped a finger inside your folds.

You softly gasp, letting your head drop back onto his shoulder as you close your eyes. You’re on display for anyone to see, but that thought gets put on the back burner once you feel the cold metal of Eren’s rings press against you.

He starts leaving kisses along the side of your neck, his free hand slowly traveling up and down your torso.

“You like this, huh?” Another moan slips from your lips as he adds his ring finger. “Never would’ve taken the pretty Catholic girl to be so into something like this.”

“Eren, please.” It’s pathetic, really, the way he easily managed to turn you to putty in his lap. The way you quietly beg for him to move his fingers faster was humiliating, but you couldn’t help the way it made you feel.

“Please what?” You couldn’t see it, but you could feel Eren's condescending gaze burning through you. “You need to speak up.”

You softly grunt as his other hand moves down, gliding across your clit. You press your lips together to suppress a moan. "You know what, asshole."

He laughs in your ear, thrusting his fingers into you just a bit faster. His other hand moves up to softly squeeze one on your breasts, moving your dress down.

He stops just as your tits are about to spill out, moving his hand to place a firm hold on the base of your neck.

"We move at my pace, sweetheart. Got that?"

You sigh in frustration, your grip on the chair tightening as you roll your hips against his hand.

His hold on your neck tightens and he removes his fingers from inside you, making you whine out at the loss.

"My pace."

He's gone back to teasingly rubbing your entrance, always just barely missing the spot you need his most. When you let out a sigh of defeat and relax in his hold, he slips his fingers back inside.

You moan at the sudden intrusion, your legs involuntarily moving to close.

Eren moves his free hand to your thigh, forcing your legs to stay apart. "Don't fucking run. You asked for this, remember?"

His words go in one ear and out the other, but you nod anyway. You don't think you'd be able to find it in yourself to disagree with anything he says—not with the way his fingers slowly drag across your walls, making you desperate for more.

This time when you start rolling your hips he doesn't stop you. He lets you slowly rub yourself on his hand because he's too distracted by the way your ass grinds against his cock.

God, this needs to hurry up so he can fuck you already.

The way his fingers suddenly speed up has you keening his name, pressing yourself further into him. You weren't sure if the redhead had been watching you before, but you're sure of it now because you see her stand up and leave.

You smile, turning your head to whisper, "Okay, she saw. We can-"

You moan, his long fingers grazing a spot you didn't even know was there as his thumb drew slow circles on your clit.

"We're finishing what we started. Now be a good girl and sit still."

His free hand splayed across your stomach, keeping you from squirming or moving away as his fingers increase their speed. You grip the arms of the chair, attempting to muffle a moan. It seemed to suddenly occur to you that there could be people watching. It didn't matter how high or wasted they were, they would still be drawn to the show.

Eren whispered something in your ear. You didn't understand what he'd said, but the tone of voice had the knot in your stomach pulling tighter and your pussy clenching around his fingers.

He condescendingly hummed in your ears as you came undone with a cry of his name. He let out an amused breath, slipping his fingers out of you and readjusting your panties. He gave your cunt a soft pat before gently pushing you off him.

Your legs slightly shook as you stood and fixed your dress, not used to the amount of pleasure you had just received. You fixed your hair, letting out a heavy breath before turning back to Eren.

You almost told him goodbye, your original plan completely slipping your mind. Now that your parents' redheaded employee had seen you and walked away from the party, it completely slipped your mind that you'd promised Eren could be your first.

Even if you'd forgotten, you most certainly didn't mind when he grabbed you by the elbow and began dragging you upstairs.

—

The two of you were hardly dressed when Eren kicked the bedroom door behind him. You're not sure whose room you were in, but you guessed it was a guest room based on the monochromatic color scheme and lack of personality.

Whose room it was didn't matter, though. Not when you didn't even know whose house you were currently in, and especially not when Eren's hands were hot against your skin, desperately trying to remove that slutty red dress from your frame.

He tossed it to the ground once he'd gotten it off, taking only a couple seconds to admire your body before picking you up. Your lips connected in a heated kiss before he started trailing his lips along your jaw and neck.

"God, you have no idea how long I've wanted you," he moaned into your ear. He dropped you onto the bed, quickly removing his clothes. You didn't even get a chance to look at him before he was on top of you, body pressed to yours. "How long I've wanted you under me like this."

His breath was hot against the column of your throat, planting open mouthed kisses along your shoulders and chest. One of his hands held him up, the other leaving a burning trail behind as it drifted to the hem of your panties.

You lifted your hips slightly as he pulled them off, haphazardly tossing them somewhere in the room to be found later.

He continued trailing kisses across your body before you felt something poking at your hole.

You suppressed a soft gasp, immediately being shushed by Eren's soft lips on yours. It was the gentlest thing he'd done all evening, the kiss being chaste and sweet compared to everything else.

"This might hurt a bit, sweetheart. I'll be gentle."

You softly nodded, keeping your eyes closed as you braced yourself for what was to come.

He gently pushed into you, your sharp gasp of surprise enough to make him pause until you told him to continue.

He was so big, though it shouldn't be surprising considering the reputation he has. The rumors that he has the best dick on campus should've set different expectations for you, and though you have nothing to compare it to, you can't imagine ever getting fucked better than this.

Once he's bottomed out inside you he stops, waiting until you give him the green light to go.

He might have been hoping this would happen for years, but it was still your first time. He wanted to make it enjoyable.

"You can move now," you whispered. He gave a single nod, taking your hands in his and pinning them above your head before pulling back, slowly thrusting forward.

You gasp, breath hitching in your throat as your eyes shut in pleasure. Eren leaves kisses along your neck as he continues his slow, languid thrusts.

While you're enjoying what he's doing, it's not enough. You need more. You half expected him to fuck you like a crazed animal, thrusting into you with reckless abandon as you beg him to go slower. You never imagined you'd be begging him to be rougher.

Your request is met with a soft chuckle. "You sure, sweetheart?"

You nod. "Yes, I'm sure. I can handle it."

He tilts his head, slightly shrugging. "Alright then."

His hands release yours, moving down your body. He pushes your legs to your chest, making you hold them there.

The new angle makes his thrusts reach deeper inside you. Eren's thrust are long and hard, making you cry out with each one. When one of his hands traveling to where the two of you were connected and stimulating your clit.

All of that combined with the way a sudden, desperate moan slips from him has you seeing stars, clenching around his cock.

His breaths are heavy, soft grunts leaving his lips. "Jesus fucking Christ," he breathes. Your eyes are just barely open, enough to watch his head drop to your chest. You can tell he's fighting the urge to ram into you, which you greatly appreciate.

"M'gonna fill this pussy up, yeah?" You barely process his words but you're nodding anyway, too far gone to care about much else. The way you tighten around him at the words has his groaning as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your body. "You like that idea, huh? How d'you think your parents would react when they find out?"

He knows damn well you can’t answer with the way his cock hits all the right spots inside you. You give a cry of his name instead, orgasm racing to the finish line as his thrusts become sloppier.

“Fuck.” He bites his bottom lip, eyes screwing shut as he suppresses a moan. His orgasm reaches the edge first, his warm cum filling you to the brim. He’s determined to make you finish, too, though, so he fucks into you faster, pushing his cum deeper into your womb.

Your moans are music to his ears, hands still trying to hold your knees against your chest so desperately. The squelching of your mixed fluids is all that fills your ears before your breath hitches, pussy clamping down on his cock as you gush around him.

You release your legs as Eren falls on top of you, panting heavily as he laughs.

“What?” Your voice is hoarse, and you can feel your throat starting to get sore.

“That was the best pussy I’ve ever had,” he simply says.

You laugh as well, shaking your head. “You’re only saying that because I’m a virgin.”

He shakes his head into your chest. “You’re not the only virgin I’ve fucked. You have the best pussy ever.”

Eren lifts his head, flashing you his perfect teeth as he smiles. He leans back, pulling out of you and turning you onto your stomach.

“Now ass up, pretty. We’re no where near done.” He grabs you by the hips and lifts them, pushing your front down. “And while you’re at it, let’s take this off.”

He reached for your hand and removes your purity ring, setting it on the nightstand.

—

The following Monday when you’d see him on campus he’s talking to Jean, fidgeting with a silver chain he’s wearing.

When he meets your gaze you smile and wave, finding yourself walking closer to him.

His lips curl up into a devious grin, and as you get closer you can see the object on his necklace more clearly. You aren’t entirely sure what it is until he holds it up, almost showing it off to Jean.

It’s your purity ring, being paraded around on his neck.

honestly have no clue what this is but I’m not rereading sorry

also this was my first smut work to let me know what y’all think of it

as always i hope y’all enjoyed. likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated

-Izzy <3

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sansaorgana · 7 months

Text

— NEW MEMORIES

PAIRING — Erik Lehnsherr x fem!Mutant!Reader

SUMMARY — You're excited to celebrate holidays for the first time in a long time and you prepare the school for Christmas and Hanukkah but your husband's attitude differs, which leads to an argument. You accidentally reveal too soon that you're expecting, which ruins a surprise.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — As usual, Reader’s mutation is NOT specified. I checked online Hanukkah's date for 1973 and I hope it showed me right that it started December 19th, which means it would overlap with Christmas. I also tried not to specify if Reader would celebrate only Hanukkah with Erik or Christmas, too, so I hope it's not very exclusive, because I imagine that even if she is not a Christian or Jewish, she would still want to celebrate Hanukkah because of her husband. In this fic, Erik and Reader are both teachers at Xavier's School, probably after Days of Future Past happened but with less shitty ending for Erik 😂 I also wanted to write a part when the baby is born but I decided the time difference between the scenes would be too big so I'll just write another fic 😁

WARNINGS — mentions of parents' death (Reader's backstory is similar to Jean Grey's)

WORD COUNT — 2,220

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

NEW MEMORIES

December has never been your favourite time of the year. Most of the time it was a reminder that you weren’t normal, that your life wasn’t usual and that whatever all these people in Christmas commercials had was out of your reach.

But in 1973, for the first time in your life, you were actually excited. And since Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was open again, you had plenty of people to share your excitement with. Lots of students volunteered to help you with decorating the place for the upcoming Christmas and Hanukkah celebrations. That year was one of those when the two of them overlapped.

After all your classes on Friday, you worked on yet another room of the house with the help of a few students. When you finished it was almost ten pm so you told them goodnight and went straight to your bedroom. Erik was already there, reading a history book and making notes.

“What is it about?” you asked him with a smile as you began to take off your clothes. You were so tired that you decided to take a shower in the morning and now just change into pajamas.

“Napoleonic wars,” your husband answered without looking up. “I have a feeling he might have been one of us.”

“Aren’t we, like, a product of this century?” you asked and put a nightgown on. “Come on, it’s late, let’s go to sleep,” you stood behind him and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I’ve only just begun,” he explained. “I need these notes for Monday.”

When you managed to convince Erik to join you at school and teach history, he was unsure about it but he promised to give it a try. Just like you promised you would leave with him to live in peace somewhere else if he wouldn’t like the life at Charles’ school. But one semester later he was already very engaged in his work. Students respected him although you could see that they were also a bit scared of him, which was understandable.

“You’ve just begun?” you laughed a little.

“I was playing chess with Charles earlier,” Erik answered with a nod and hummed after underlining a line in the book.

“Is this why you’re so tense?” you asked as you slightly squeezed his stiff shoulders. “Did you lose?”

“I’m not tense,” he tried to shake you off.

“Talk to me, Erik. It’s not gonna work if you refuse to talk to me,” you reminded him sternly and he sighed before putting the pencil down and closing the book. “We need to be open about what is bothering us, you promised me we’d make it work this time,” you added.

“Yes, I know. But I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Erik turned his head around to look at your face. You took a step back and furrowed your brows.

“What do you mean, Erik?” you asked.

He hesitated before saying anything and a million of possible scenarios started to come up to your mind.

“You don’t like it here?” You inquired. “You want us to move out?”

“No, it’s not about that… But…” Erik swallowed thickly and took a deep breath in. “I don’t like what you’re currently doing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to take your happiness out of it.”

“What am I currently doing?” you couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“Christmas and Hanukkah preparations,” he explained and you blinked a few times as your brain needed to process that information.

“Wait, what?!” you raised your voice a little. You didn’t want to scold him for expressing his feelings but you just couldn’t understand his reaction. “We’re going to celebrate for the first time in such a long time, and what’s more important, we’re not gonna be alone in this. We have our friends and students here. For the first time December is a positive time of the year to me… to us,” you tried to explain your point of view nervously. Erik was only looking at you and blinking slowly, patiently waiting for you to finish. “But I don’t do it for myself. I mostly am doing it for you, Erik. I wanted you to be happy, too. I wanted you to enjoy something that had been taken away from you a long time ago.”

“It reminds me of Hanukkahs with my parents,” he finally spoke up and you pursed your lips for a moment before opening your mouth again.

“So you don’t want to ever celebrate again?” you asked to be sure.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

“Why can’t you let yourself be happy, why are you torturing yourself further? I don’t get it, I’m sorry,” you tried not to be irritated but you felt utterly disappointed. You sat on the edge of your bed and hid your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be a killjoy.”

“Too late,” you murmured, fighting your tears back.

“I know that most of the students will be celebrating. I think I’ll just leave for a week somewhere. I have already discussed it with Charles and he said there are a few things I can do for him at that time,” Erik’s voice sounded casual like he was discussing business for you.

“You want to leave us during Christmas time?” you moved the hands off of your face and looked up at him angrily.

“(Y/N), please, I don’t want to fight about it…” Erik sighed. “Why can’t you just understand that I don’t want to…” he clenched his jaw and looked away. “I don’t want to create new memories like this because it would remove the ones I already have… with my mother.”

“And you think she wouldn’t want you to celebrate holidays with your new family? You don’t think she’d want you to be happy?” you stood up and looked down at him. You felt like a bitch but his explanation made you even angrier.

“I don’t know what she’d want because she’s dead!” He stood up and raised his voice.

“So, I won’t be able to celebrate ever?! Because you don’t want to create new memories?” you put your hands on your hips.

“I’m not forbidding you to celebrate.”

“I don’t want to celebrate without you, don’t you understand?!” you yelled and rolled your eyes. “And when our child is born, you won’t celebrate Hanukkah with them either?” you asked and then you closed your mouth quickly. Your anger made you reveal a few things too early.

“What child?” you could see Erik’s face becoming pale within a second. “(Y/N)?”

“It was supposed to be a Christmas surprise… But since you won’t even be here, I guess I can tell you now,” you shrugged your arms. “I’m pregnant,” you announced and turned around to avoid looking at his face. You were scared of his reaction.

You didn’t know how long it took him to finally do something. Was it a very long minute or was it ten minutes of a heavy silence between you two…?

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. Apologizing wasn’t his strong trait. You sensed him standing behind you and putting his hand on your shoulder shyly. You didn’t push him away but you didn’t lean back towards him as usual either. “For how long do you know?”

“Two weeks. It’s the second month,” you answered, your eyes focused on the wall in front of you as you tried to fight the tears back. “Are you even happy?” you dared to ask and your lower lip trembled because asking it out loud made your heart break.

You were trying to give him a normal life, to give him family and happiness, joy around Christmas time and all that. But he seemed to prefer to dwell on his past. You didn’t expect him to forget about his mother or about the pain, of course not. Your past wasn’t exactly pleasant either. But you wanted to be happy despite that, you wanted to have a family, you wanted a new start in life, another chance.

“Of course I am,” Erik answered and gently turned your body around so you would face him. However, you tried to avoid his eyes. “But I’m terrified,” he confessed.

“And you think I am not?” you looked up eventually as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. “I’m a monster, Erik. You think I’m not scared of hurting them by accident?” you asked.

When you were about twelve years old, you caused your parents’ death after having an argument with them. Your powers were out of control and you were locked in a mental institution for underage girls by people who didn’t understand that you weren’t crazy nor really dangerous. That was where you met the person who made you realize who you were and who was the only person there who wouldn’t treat you like a monster; although that was the word you could easily call him with. His name was Sebastian Shaw – but he introduced himself as Doctor John Smith. He was experimenting on you for a few years and although it had been a traumatic experience, you learnt how to control your mutation thanks to him. That was also how you met Erik – he found you not so long after you turned eighteen years old and left the institution. You started to work as a waitress and he was hunting for the man who had used your pain and suffering to perform experiments on you to deepen his knowledge about the various mutations. You decided to join Erik because your life didn’t seem to have any purpose anyway.

“You’re not a monster,” he sighed and pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you. With one of his hands he held the back of your head and caressed your hair. “You were just a child and now you’re older, you can control your powers. You’re extraordinary,” he whispered the words of comfort and kissed your forehead. “I’m not scared about you hurting our baby, I would never. I trust you with my life,” he assured you and it was comforting to hear that.

“Creating new memories doesn’t wipe out the old ones,” you cried out and pressed your face deeper into his chest. “Believe me, I wish it worked this way. I wish I could forget. I begged Charles to make me forget but he refused to do it to me,” you confessed and Erik raised your chin to make you look at him again. He hadn’t known about that before.

“You haven’t told me that,” his face was full of pain and worry.

“It was when you were in jail. I begged Charles to remove all the pain, the memory of my parents, the memory of Shaw… Even you. I begged him to even remove you from my head. But he told me I wouldn’t be myself any longer. He was right and I hate that. I hate that what I am is made of pain and suffering,” you sniffled. “That’s why I want to make good memories so badly, do you understand? I want to celebrate with you like we never have before. I want to laugh and feel safe. Like I belong somewhere, surrounded with friends and students, with my husband by my side and my baby growing inside of me. Do you understand my point of view now, Erik?” you bit on your trembling lip.

“Yes, my liebling, I do,” he nodded and leaned in to kiss your forehead and then the tip of your nose, which made you giggle through the tears, until eventually he pecked your lips.

“But I don’t want to force you either,” you sighed. Now, when all your emotions were finally out and you calmed yourself down, you decided there was no point in pushing him into something that would make him feel uncomfortable. “If you don’t want to celebrate, it’s alright. We both have our right to deal with whatever that has happened to us in our own ways. I’ll still have fun with all the rest, don’t worry about me,” you assured him.

“No, you were right. About me choosing to torture myself instead of allowing myself to enjoy my life,” Erik caressed your cheek and you cracked a smile. “And I can’t miss my child’s first Hanukkah either.”

“I want them to have a happy childhood,” you told him. “Like we never had.”

“I know. I do, too,” Erik placed his hand on your belly and caressed it gently, like it was made of glass. “I will protect them from everything, I promise. No human will hurt our baby.”

You smiled at him and cupped his face before leaning in to give him a proper kiss this time.

But you didn’t tell him that what you feared more than humans hurting your child was actually the child turning out to be perfectly normal. You were afraid that a man so prejudiced towards humans as your husband wouldn’t love his child fully if they weren’t a mutant. You couldn’t tell him that, though. You didn’t want to fight with him anymore that night. Instead, you just kissed him. After all, you’d still have a few years before you’d find out if the baby was a mutant or not.

MASTERLIST

#erik lehnsherr x reader #lilysfiction #magneto x reader

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onelovegreasers · 4 months

Text

Headcanons I can fully imagine being real

Ponyboy still sleeps with Darry from time to time. He talks all this shit in his sleep about fighting socs and beating ass all while he's asleep next to his big brother like a child.

Soda has a side to him that's not all sweet and innocent and only comes out when him and Darry REALLY get into it.

Darry acts all chill and laid back at work, his coworkers fully believe he's this pure christian man who never gets mad, never fights anyone and never curses. He's a whole 'nother person at home dealing with Ponyboy.

Steve's one of those people who you talk to once and he thinks you're best friends. People at school are literally like "bro idk I picked up his pencil and he won't leave me alone".

Two-Bit's the instigator of the gang. If Darry says no to something, he'll give in behind his back.

Johnny can't believe the Curtis brothers ever fight. Everytime they all hangout he goes on and on about "I can't believe Pony would ever give attitude like that! I can't imagine Darry yelling like that!".

Dallas cheats on all his girlfriends and has never had one for longer than a few weeks, aside from Sylvia which only lasted as long as it did because he went to jail.

Ponyboy was forced to apologize 3 years ago to a soc girl he got caught bullying. He still argues with Darry about it to this day. ("I didn't say anything! Dally did and I just laughed!")

Steve's run away from home dozens of times. It never works out. It's to the point where if the gang hears Steve's "missing", they're not even worried.

The Curtis house has a thousand and one different versions of 'family rules' signs around the house.

#ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #steve randle #two bit matthews #johnny cade #dally winston #dallas winston #stay gold #the outsiders #greasers #oneloveoutsiders #onelovegreasers #outsiders scenario #scenarios #imagines #ai image #headcanon #fanfic

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machetegirl109 · 10 months

Text

Synopsis: After spending the whole Bible study daydreaming of Abby, she finally makes your fantasies come true. *inspiration: vacation bible school by ayesha erotica*

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, F/F, modern!AU, suggestive and offensive language, religion, abby&reader are 18, smut, angst, switch!abby&reader, dom!abby, sub!reader, thigh riding, fingering(r&a!receiving), oral(a!receiving), no aftercare, mean!abby x reader

important info about my stories here

©machetegirl109 (credits to VBS by ayesha erotica that inspired me to write this) DO NOT copy/steal my work OR post it on any platforms

Word Count: 2.6k+

Oneshot: Vacation Bible School

❝︎and like every other shitty love story

you came and went❞︎

Church camp happens every year during the summer. It lasts for a week; during this time, you live together in cabins, explore the outdoors, and dine in community, all while learning about religion.

You’ve been taking part in attending ever since you were a little kid. The campgrounds are filled with kids, teens, and young adults. The VBS director would be supervising the assisting staff that consisted of other members of the Christian church, where they were divided into group leaders, an audio/video coordinator, music director, Bible story tellers, game leaders, craft supervisors, and kitchen staff.

This year would be the last summer camp trip for you and the other 18 year-olds before you all start college.

Every year you’d be eager for the summertime, wanting nothing more than to arrive at the huge campsite with lots of green space, bushes and trees, picnic tables and a bonfire. Paths that led to the big main cabin where indoor activities and supper were held, another that led to multiple smaller cabins scattered around a secluded area with some portable wooden toilets by the end of the trail and finally a path that led to the forest where a beautiful river was at as well as a hiking trail.

Although you did enjoy being surrounded by the calming nature and your fellow church peers, what made you anxiously wait for the one week vacation every year was her. Abby Anderson. You two met years ago when you were kids, having to spend the days around each other as you two learned about Jesus and his rules. You and the blonde girl quickly became friends; however you never spoke to each other outside the camping grounds. In day-to-day life, you would only admire her from a distance. Whether it was on the Sunday evening services, or at the school; you paid attention to Abby’s movement as she kneeled to pray, or when she talked to those around her.

Something about her made your hands shake with nervousness, your heart skipped beats just by the thought of her so, so pretty eyes and her strong arms—

“What do you say, miss Y/N?” The pastor interrupts your thoughts and you move your eyes from Abby who’s sitting in front of you to his direction.

“I’m sorry, pastor. What was the question again?”

“What is the message in Ephesians 5:3?” He asks again and your peers, who are seated in a chair circle as the pastor stands in the middle, turn their heads towards you as they all wait for an answer.

“Uh, I… I don’t know…I’m sorry.” You shamefully look at your hands down on lap.

“That is okay, Y/N. We are all here to learn, isn't that right kids?” They all move their heads up and down, agreeing with the pastor. “Can anyone tell me what is the message in Ephesians 5:3?”

“I can.” One of the students complied.

“Yes, Abigail. Go ahead.” As soon as he calls out her name, your head shots up and you’re looking at the girl in front of you again. She clears her throat and before she begins to speak, her eyes meet yours.

“But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be onced named among you, as becometh saints;” Abby concludes, her blue eyes never leaving yours. Soon, the priest thanks her for the answer, proceeding with his class and the blonde gives you a small smile. She manspreads on her chair and you feel the blood pump faster into your veins as your body grows hot.

Abby is wearing a white tank top that exposes her strong muscles, black skinny jeans with a heavy-looking belt as well as a pair of black chuck taylor’s. You can’t help but wonder how she would look on top of you, with her blonde hair forming a curtain around your head and her big hands roaming through your body.

After spending the rest of the Bible study distracted staring at the pretty blonde across from you, the class comes to an end. “Alright,kids, that will be all for today. Go ahead and enjoy your last day here and make sure to be ready to attend the bonfire tonight!” The priest leaves the open room located inside the main cabin and soon the students follow behind. Each leaving at their own pace as they conversate with their friends. You look around you and notice Abby is still seated in her chair, like you. She smirks before standing up, making her way to you.

“You seemed a bit distracted. Anything interesting in your mind?” Abby reaches her hand out for you to hold as you leave your chair.

“Oh, nothing, it’s stupid. “ You smile shyly and hold onto her, who soon drops your hand after helping you up. She hums in response as she licks her lips and points her head towards the door, hinting you to follow her as she begins to walk.

“Well, now I need to know what stupid thing you were possibly thinking about while you stared at me the whole study.” You hide your face in your palms, cringing at how you shamelessly looked at her during the class.

“Sorry…” You muffle through your hands before dropping them to your sides again. “I didn’t mean to stare.” Abby lets out a small laugh at your reaction, loving the way you get so shy around her. You two keep walking until you reach the path that led to the area where many small cabins were scattered around.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” She quickly scans the area around, checking to see if anyone can see or hear the two of you. “I think I already know what you were thinking about, though.” Her eyes drop to your plump lips and your throat goes dry.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You play dumb and Abby chuckles.

“Hm. I think we were both thinking about the same stupid things.” She raises her hand to your cheek, lightly massaging the pad of her thumb onto your soft skin and then pushing it down to your bottom lip. You feel as if your heart dropped to your core as heat and pulse grows inside your panties. Her hand teasingly grips your neck before she drops it and takes one of your hands into hers, guiding two walk towards the portable wood toilets by the end of the trail.

She looks around once again, checking for people and opens the door as she rushly gets in, pulling you with her and shutting the door closed. Your back presses into the wood as one of her hands pushes you against the wall by the neck. Abby’s blue eyes turned a shade darker, desired in them as she placed her knee between your legs, earning a small moan from you.

“You’ve been watching me the whole week,” She says as her free hand creeps under the hem of your shirt, fingers lightly tingling the skin of your stomach. “But I’ve been watching you too.” She palms your left breast harshly, flicking her calloused finger on your nipple and you feel yourself getting wetter by the second. “You know the expression you make when you stare at me?”

You stay silent and her grip around your neck tightens.

“When I ask something, you answer.” Abby says softly and removes her hand from your chest, sliding it down to the side of your hips, carving her short nails into your skin as she moves you to grind against her hard thigh; making you bite your lips as you feel your clothed cunt rub deliciously against the material of her jeans. “Answer me, Y/N.”

“I-I don’t know, Abby…”

“You stare at me with this really pathetic expression on your face,” The lights inside the small compartment die down suddenly before turning back on – And as you look at Abby again, a shit-eating grin appear on her pretty lips.

“The expression of someone who just really wants me to fuck them stupid.” You snake your arms around her neck and she lets go of yours, now hugging your waist as she guides your movements. “Do you want me to fuck you stupid?” Abby whispers in your ear with a rough voice.

“Yes-Yes, Abby. Ple-please.” You ask as you hide your face onto her neck, her pinewood scent filling your nostrils and you moan into her skin. Your hot breath hits against her neck and Abby feels your arousal mark a spot on her pants. A soft blush runs over her soft freckled face and her boxers start to feel heavy by her own wetness.

“Please what, angel?”

“Ple-please fuck me, Abby.” You remove your head from its previous position and forcefully grabs the back of her hair, pulling her face towards yours as your lips smack together. Abby bites and pulls onto your bottom lip and soon her tongue sneaks into your mouth, making the kiss become more heated and sloppy. She hugs your waist tighter. “I want you,” You say in between the kisses. “Jus-just fuck me already, ple-please.”

Abby lets out a moan by hearing your pleas and holds your hips still as she lower her lips to your neck. She nibbles and licks at your skin and you let out heavy breaths and pleasure filled moans. She moves one of her hands to your exposed thigh due your skirt riding up, and she slowly slides it closer and closer to your heat as she caresses your hot skin. Soon enough she cups your pussy through your dripping wet panties, the feeling of her warm hand sends a wave of electricity through your body and you moan her name out.

“I've been wanting to do this all week,” Abby confesses. She slowly drags your panties to the side and runs two fingers up your slick, collecting the liquid of your excitement. “Fuck… You’re so fucking wet for me. So ready for me, baby.” She gives you a quick and soft peck on the lips and suddenly thrusts her ring and middle finger inside your weeping cunt.

“Ah ah ah Abby!” You moan as you feel her fingers filling you. Abby begins to move her fingers in-and-out of you, starting off slow and soon she picks up the pace, pumping them fast and with precision inside you. You rock your hips, following her fingers' pace, causing your clit to deliciously and harshly rub against the palm of her hand. “Fuck Abby,,, you're–ahh fucking me so good…”

Abby lets out a quiet laugh and leans in for another messy kiss, saliva dripping off of both your chins as you make out. She soon fingers into you deeper than before, the tip of her fingers meeting that spongy spot inside you. She presses onto it and you rub your clit harder into her palm. You break the kiss, lips swollen for the biting and sucking.

“I'm gon-gonna cum,”

“I'm here, angel. Cum for me, baby.” Soon something inside you snaps and you feel your body shake as a pleasure washes over you.

“Such a good fucking girl, making a mess all over my hand.” Abby helps you ride out your high, her hand and leg drenched from you as she carefully removes her fingers from your sensitive cunt, letting out a hiccup once you feel empty again. You attempt to catch your breath, chest rising up and down rapidly as you both look at eachother. You hold her hand towards your mouth, cleaning her sticky fingers from your orgasm and she opens a small smile.

“You're so hot,” Abby says giving you one more kiss before removing her leg from in between yours.”So fuckin’ dirty for me.” You kiss her back, pulling at her bottom lip and asking for tongue passage which she happily obliged to. Pushing Abby against the wall, your hands fall to her hips, undoing her white studded belt and letting it fall to the ground. “You're gonna make me feel good, Angel?” She smirks upon seeing a naughty look on your face and you nod.

“Yeah, Abby, I'll make you feel so good…” You kiss her lips and neck one last time before you move towards her breasts and stomach. When you reach her crotch, you shamelessly rub your face against it, causing her to gasp and moan as she forces you onto the floor by your shoulders.

Abby helps you unbutton her pants and you bring them down along with her boxers as you kneel in front of her, the smell of her pussy makes your mouth water. She frees one of her ankles from the clothes, propping her leg over your shoulder and you snake your arm around her tight to keep her secure. She looks down at you, looking like a pretty and desperate little slut just for her. One of her hands goes to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to her glistening lips. You lay your tongue out and you slowly lick her slick bottom to top, reaching her throbbing bud and giving it a harsh suck.

“Uhmm, fuck,” She moans upon the contact, pushing her hips closer to you mouth. “Yeah, just like that, baby.” You finally bury your tongue into her cunt, exploring her as she lets out a string of breathless moans. Abby begins to grind against your face, your soft muscle lapping on her mouthwatering pussy and your nose softly and deliciously brushing against her clit. “Look at me,” She pats your head and you bring your eyes up to her but never stopping fucking your tongue into her. “Lookin’ so beautiful on your knees for me, ahh– s-so so fucking perfect,”

Abby soon feels the tension that sits on the bottom of her stomach is about to explode. Her moves become more messy and rapid as she chases your face. The leg that is up your shoulder starts to shake, the trembling of her body making her to hold onto your free shoulder for support. You notice Abby will soon break and change the focus of your thrust to her needy button, lick and circling your tongue on it and adding two fingers into her.

“D-don't stop, fuckfuckfuc–” Her hips stutter as you scissor your fingers into her, never stopping giving attention to her clit. You feel her pussy gushing around you and she soon releases her juices, making a mess on your hand and face. Abby breaks eye contact as she presses the back of her head onto the wooden wall. She closes her eyes and furrows her brows while coming down from her orgasm. You distance your mouth from her now sensitive clit and gently remove your fingers from her. She drops her leg off of your shoulder and you, still on your knees, move to help her fix her pants and belt.

“No, it’s okay,” Abby moves away from your touch, making you slowly stand back on your feet. “I can do it.” She pushes her black jeans back up and grabs her belt off the floor, quickly wrapping them around the waistband of her jeans. You quietly observe her, hopeful thoughts run around your head, thoughts about you and Abby becoming closer after today – The last day of camp. “So, uhh,” She nervously runs her hand through her blonde strands as her face displays a shameful and regretful expression.

“We should get going, th-the last bonfire will start soon…” You feel as if the ground disappeared, your heart squeezes inside your chest and tears form in your eyes. “Uhm… I'll see you around, yeah?” She quickly exits, leaving you alone in the compartment. You look down at your knees, red and swollen from all the kneeling, and then you look around the small porta wooden potty, your hand palms your face as you take in what just happened. Regret fills you for what you and Abby just did – In a damn porta potty, at church camp nonetheless – and at how easy you gave yourself to her, only to be tossed away just as easily.

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gurugirl · 1 year

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Forgive Me, Father | Part 1

Summary: Harry is a priest with a dark secret but he's got a big heart and he's looking for someone special to share it with. When Y/n confesses her sins, he thinks she might just be the one.

A/n: Part 1 of 3 - this is 16k words. I haven't really written anything with this type of dom/sub play before - though this first part doesn't get too deep into it, you'll know it when you read it.

Warning: Dom/sub dynamics, mentions of religion and sin, floggings for pleasure and penance, mentions of sexual situations and masturbation, sexual tension, mentions of caging, punishment, cheating

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Harry was a holy man despite his particular desires. He became a priest relatively young but he took all the necessary steps; went to seminary for four years, studied theology and philosophy as an undergraduate, made his vows then became a man of the cloth. He was a deacon, his transitional role for just over a year in Manchester the first time he felt tempted by a beautiful young woman in the congregation. But he resisted. He knew the devil was trying him. But his holy side won out over his flesh.

He desired to act on his flesh, though. And he might have if he’d been given a moment alone with the young woman. He imagined what it would be like but it was easy to resist when he hadn’t really had a real opportunity. All his formative years had him at all-boys schools as well. His four years in seminary were spent amongst young men his age. It wasn’t until his fourth year at seminary that he realized he was even attracted to men. The realization was a difficult one for him at first, being a man of God, a Christian on the path to priesthood. It was troubling to him so he pushed his sexual desires down until they only manifested in his sleep with salacious dreams and waking up wet in his underwear.

When he finally became ordained and was given his own congregation he felt he’d made it at last. The road to get where he was took a long time. The diocese wouldn't take a man under 30 in many cases, so he found a place that would because he knew in his heart he was ready. There were no shortcuts to becoming a priest, a five-year-long journey at minimum. For many, the transitional period took a lot longer than it did for Harry. A year of transition as a deacon is the minimum and that’s all it took for Harry to be called by God to his own church.

Being a 27-year-old man with his own congregation in small-town Wisconsin felt daunting. Harry was not from the US and he’d never been to Wisconsin before arriving in the town. The parish was near the shores of Lake Michigan. It was quaint and quiet but it was home to nearly 100,000 people. Not so small that he'd be lacking for company.

Harry worked and lived in the same buildings for three years diligently. He was kind to his congregation, a good priest and leader, made friends with many of the people who were members, and always had a warm meal offered to him through an invite to come to the houses of families who attended his services.

He didn’t always take them up on the meals. Harry enjoyed being alone at the end of the day but most evenings he’d find himself at someone’s home eating a big dinner with people he usually considered family. On his 30th birthday, his congregation held a small surprise potluck for him after service one Sunday. He felt blessed to have such a wonderful group of followers. He truly loved them.

On a Friday evening, Mrs. Brockton had called Harry and invited him to dinner. Harry had a feeling deep down that he should say no. But he liked Mrs. Brockton. Maybe he liked her a little too much. He would never act on the carnal, it was in his vows to remain celibate, though the rules had been loosened somewhat over the years for priests, Harry was invested in the old way of doing things. God and his priesthood came first for him. The sin of lust led many to take a husband or a wife just for the sake of their flesh. Harry would not give his heart to anyone but God.

But part of that reasoning for going to the extreme with his vows was because of his unsavory desires. He never acted on them, but he fantasized and would have vivid dreams of the things he wished he could play out in real life. There was an aspect of denial of the flesh that he got off on as well. It made him feel superior in some ways; the continual denial of his lust and sin.

A man of thirty years, he was still a virgin, and happily. Proudly even. He also could count how many times in his life he'd masturbated when he became weak to his flesh. He rarely sinned in such a way but when he did it was always atoned for with a flog at his back and his chest.

Harry brought with him only his Bible when he arrived at Mr. and Mrs. Brockton's home. She told him not to bring any food or drink, but that she would have everything taken care of.

And she most certainly had everything taken care of. Down to the detail she conveniently forgot to mention, that Mr. Brockton was gone for a work trip in another city for the evening.

"I cannot stay Mrs. Brockton. I hope you do understand. We must at all times keep even the appearance of evil at bay. If others were to know I was here without Mr. Brockton they could get the wrong idea," he spoke as he clutched the Bible over his heart. The home smelled divine. She'd obviously been cooking up something wonderful and she clearly had taken the time to freshen up her appearance as well. Not that she needed it. Mrs. Brockton was a beautiful woman, even Harry could see that.

"Father Styles, please. Can we address one another casually? You can call me Natalie if you don't mind that I just call you Harry. And... look, I know I should have told you but I'm lonely and I need counsel tonight. As a friend. As someone I trust to not tell anyone my problems. George being gone tonight is the only time I'll have for this. I wanted this to be private."

Harry frowned. He didn't love it when his members called him by his first name, but it wasn't the end of the world. He'd always been warned about getting too close, too familiar. Friendly was good, but there was a line. However, he supposed just this once, and for Natalie, he could. She seemed to genuinely need him and his advice. So he relented and they sat in the living room while the dinner finished cooking in the oven.

“Fath… Harry,” Natalie said as she looked at Harry flustered, “I don’t know what to do about George. He keeps going away on these trips and I’m starting to wonder if there is something else going on.”

Harry listened to Natalie’s story. She had the feeling George was cheating on her but she had no proof. During dinner, Natalie set next to Harry and her demeanor changed. She was lighter and bubblier as the subject had shifted. Harry had given her some advice but he ultimately told Natalie that worrying over something without proof would take her eyes off God. That it did her soul no good to jump to conclusions. However, even as Harry said that he wondered himself about Mr. Brockton taking off on so many overnight trips.

After the plates were cleared and Natalie brought out a bottle of wine to share with Harry, they moved back into the living area and sat on the comfortable couch to continue their discussion. Harry had prayed with Natalie before they sipped their wine.

Natalie loved the way Harry's deep voice called to God when he spoke the prayer. The way his intense eyes would watch her as she spoke. His pink lips were kissable and his hair always looked so well-placed.

Harry was an attractive man. Many of the women in the congregation would gossip about how good-looking the priest was. Harry was tall, well-built, and gorgeous really. He was also smart and so well-behaved around all the women that it drove some of them crazy. Occasionally some would attempt to dress in a way that would attract him, and catch his eye, but it never worked. Harry was committed even if internally he was lusting.

But Mrs. Brockton, one time, had seen how Harry looked at her when she wore a particularly low-cut dress to Harry’s after he’d invited a small group over for prayer after Sunday mass. He would sometimes invite members of his congregation over for a drink and to pray after services. This wasn't too out of the ordinary.

After two glasses of wine, Harry was feeling a little loose, as he normally does under the influence. It hadn't been much wine, but he didn't need much as he usually refrained from drinking outside of these social settings. So a little was all it took.

This is when Mrs. Brockton noticed Harry's obvious gaze at her bosom. He even licked his lips and then looked down at his hands as he swallowed thickly. She saw it all. So she tested the waters and went to him before leaving with her husband.

"Will you send me off with a quick prayer, Father?" Her intentions were not pure, and Harry could feel it in the way she spoke, the way her eyes roamed his body, and the bite of her lip.

But he indulged her because denying her at that moment would raise more questions.

It was a fast little prayer. Mrs. Brockton grabbed Harry's hands in hers and as he prayed he felt her warm fingers gently move across the skin on his hands. It filled him with lust. Just the feel of her skin on his hand. When he opened his eyes, mid-prayer, a quick look, her breasts were in view again and they were delectable. Harry darted his gaze from her cleavage to her eyes and she was already looking at him with the smallest grin on her pretty face so Harry quickly shut his eyes and finished the prayer before sending everyone away.

That night was one of the rare times he masturbated. He'd grown hard in his pants as everyone was leaving and Mrs. Brockton made a show of swinging her hips and with the little hug she gave him on her way out of the door had her pressed against him and he felt lust in his heart.

He felt shame for it and he knew she saw him looking. He hated that his body wanted to have sex. Normally all of his lust would be reserved for his dreams He would wake from dreams where he'd be fucking men and women and coming. He'd dream of having soft lips sucking on his cock or he'd be doing the same. Or he'd wake to find that he wasn't in between a woman's legs licking over her soft parts. In his waking life, he got no action. But in his dreams, he was a sex maniac doing ungodly things.

He'd gone to counsel about his dreams and had been told they were only dreams and that the flesh was fighting the devil inside of him when he was asleep, but as long as he didn't act on it while he was conscious, he would be absolved. It also turned out that other men of the cloth who remained celibate were afflicted with the same type of dreams. Though, Harry knew that his were of a particular caliber, and quite taboo so he never told the clergy of the details.

But now here he sat in Mrs. Brockton's home with her husband gone and she was wearing something that rose up her thigh as she sat. Harry did his best not to notice how pretty she was or how good she smelled. His belly was full of her delicious cooking and now, on his second glass of wine, he began to feel that familiar buzz and he was getting loose. Comfortable.

Mrs. Brockton moved to sit directly next to Harry on the couch and put her hand on his knee. She'd seen how he was looking at her. And once again, her intentions were not pure. She knew Harry was a virgin. She wondered what he looked like under all the clothes he wore. He was slim and tall and seemed to be particularly buff in his chest region with a nice tight ass. She wanted a piece of him.

Harry closed his eyes when he felt Natalie's hand on his thigh, but she acted as if it was nothing while Harry was reeling inside, being the touch-starved virgin he was.

"So, that was the gist of the play we went to. I really think it would have been better if they'd cast Ramuel as Moses instead of Carter. I think Carter did a great job, but he's too young, don't you think?"

Harry was barely listening. He was just trying to work on keeping his boner down. Mrs. Brockton was beautiful and Harry was easy to rile up so her hand on his thigh was sending him. Harry didn’t normally put himself into precarious situations like this for a reason. He wasn’t sure how strong he actually was. He’d been wise all these years to stay away from circumstances that put him alone with someone he felt attracted to. But now, he was here with Mrs. Brockton and she was coming on to him, or so it seemed. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to resist her for much longer when his mind started to wander with all the possibilities.

Suddenly he stood up, "I should leave, Natalie. Thank you for the meal and I hope my advice was good."

Natalie stood quickly and grasped Harry's wrist, "Please. Finish your wine first, Harry. It's a really good bottle, expensive, and I would hate to dump the rest. I can't finish the bottle on my own," she stepped in closer looking up at the handsome man, hoping she could persuade him.

Harry sighed and nodded. He could finish his glass of wine as a way to be polite. But he really wanted to leave because he was already thickening in his pants, his imagination was taking him down the dark road toward his lustful, forbidden fantasies.

"Okay. I'll stay and finish my glass. I do need to use the bathroom, however."

The bathroom was in the hallway near the two bedrooms. Harry closed the door behind him and turned the faucet on to drown out the noise of what he was about to do.

He felt he had no choice. He couldn't be sitting in Mrs. Brockton's living room with an erection so he needed to take care of it. It wouldn't have been proper to be around her in the state he was in.

"Father forgive me..." Harry whispered under his breath as he pulled himself out of his pants and spit into his palm. He stroked himself gently and swiped over his tip before spitting down onto his penis again for better glide.

Harry kept one hand on the counter to brace himself as he held his cock in the other. His pants fell to the floor after a couple of minutes of pumping himself and the belt smacked into the tile with a clank.

He was nearly there, almost done when he heard a knock at the door then Natalie’s voice, "Are you okay, Harry? I heard something..." and then suddenly the door was opening, despite Harry having been sure he'd locked it.

Natalie stood in silence as she looked down at Harry's large, swollen cock with his fist wrapped around it. She knew that he had big hands for a reason - the better to hold that large thing with. She stepped in as Harry tried covering himself but it had been too late. She'd seen what he was doing.

"I'm so sorry, Natalie, I was..." but his words were cut off when she lowered her hand to him and put her palm over the stiff cock, and wrapped her fist as much as she could, around him.

"Don't be sorry. Please, Harry..." she dropped to her knees and kept her hand on his shaft as she looked up at him. Her free hand smoothed up his thigh, where she saw a forbidden tattoo. His thighs were well-muscled and thick. She moved her fist over Harry and looked back up at him.

"Please. Let me help. You need relief, Father," and with her eyes on his, she kissed the side of his thick shaft and Harry groaned and closed his eyes. He had been so close to orgasm and now he was suddenly caught in the haze of lust and sin. He knew it would be easy to just let her finish him off.

He was powerless to stop what was happening. It was a dream he'd had for so long to have someone sucking him off. His flesh won out at that moment. He’d never had that kind of opportunity present itself before and he was surprised by how quickly he gave in once her hand was on him. But it felt so good. Better than he realized it would.

And Natalie's mouth was soft and warm and wet and Harry came so fast - as he always did because he was hard up. She slurped his cock and drank him down when he came with a moan and he pressed the back of her head down over him on instinct.

Harry tried apologizing again. He dressed in haste but Natalie assured him he had nothing to worry about with her. He'd only need to ask forgiveness from God but his secret was safe with her as long as her secret was safe with him.

And this led to other, more intimate encounters with Mrs. Brockton. She and Harry had begun a small affair. She took his virginity and taught him how to eat, as she called it. Harry had deep guilt about what he'd done with a married member of his congregation but she seemed to love it. She would even beg him at times. He had a hard time resisting her once he’d gotten a taste.

Soon, Harry learned that he was quite dominant when it came to sex. Mrs. Brockton loved all of it. He'd fuck her in the rectory and the confessional, but usually, it happened in the privacy of his parsonage. He would gag her and bind her to keep her quiet and then have her tied down and spread out so he could fuck her in any way she could take it. Harry particularly got a taste for anal. Natalie had never had her bum fucked before Harry but he was slowly turning into a man who craved and fantasized about sex all the time and he played out some of his unusual kinks with Natalie.

He issued her spankings with his hand and occasionally his flog, which he also used as his punishment for carnal, sinful thoughts, now it was used to whip Mrs. Brockton. He couldn't do it often, though, because Mr. Brockton would have taken note of course.

Eventually, though, Mrs. Brockton wasn't enough. Harry's appetite for the carnal was something unshakable. He'd been introduced to sex in the flesh and not just in his dreams, and now he couldn't have it often enough and with Natalie being married she wasn't available as he needed.

He'd find himself going into Chicago or Milwaukee and meeting women and men at bars. He began experimenting with what he liked and he really liked just about everything. He loved pain and he loved to issue pain. Part of it was because of the guilt he felt and the pain was a way to ask for forgiveness, but eventually, Harry stopped feeling too bad about wanting to have sex. And after a year of exploring, he felt like all the time he’d resisted temptation had been such a waste now that he knew what it was like. Harry was a sexual being but still held onto his spirituality.

He enjoyed being a priest but he also enjoyed being a man who loved to fuck. Loving God and fucking were quite equal in his eyes and now he would not ever be without either. But continuing in his priesthood in this way must change eventually. Harry began to come up with a plan that could have him being a spiritual leader who could also have deranged sex when he pleased.

It took some more years before Harry's plan started to come to fruition. He remained a priest in small-town Wisconsin while he enjoyed his flesh most nights of the week. Once, he had a young woman stay in his parsonage in a small cage, which she did so willingly. Harry would come and go as needed but when he'd return to his parsonage he'd bring his little pet out and fuck her dumb and then put her back in her cage.

Of course, she had a job and she had taken off only a week of work so she could be imprisoned and degraded by the hot priest. So that didn't last because she had responsibilities. But Harry wished it could have lasted forever. He thought how nice it would be to find someone that would want to be his willing captive to cage. To have someone he could keep as his submissive pet and do with as he pleased. He obviously wanted the person to also enjoy the scenario with him, he wasn't a monster. But now it was his goal. To find someone who could be his and whom he could do with as he pleased. A submissive who would never want to leave him.

He'd tried it with various people. At first, they liked it. Some wanted it more than he did. But it was a matter of finding the right one. Someone who he could connect with and feel engaged with and vice versa. He had a young man with him for a few weeks (which was the longest stretch he'd had one person as his pet) but eventually Harry came to realize that he needed something else. Someone else. The young man was lovely and might have been a great submissive companion for years to come, but it wasn't quite it. So he continued his search for the perfect person.

One Sunday during service, Harry caught the eye of a beautiful woman. He immediately imagined her waiting for him in his cage, tied up, blindfolded, red swollen stripes over her back and her thighs from the flog... Someone to keep forever. He tried to push the feelings down as much as he could while he was in the middle of his prayer but she was incredibly alluring.

Many times he did find appealing men and women but after speaking to them for a bit realized they wouldn't be quite fit for the job. It took a very particular kind of person to do the things Harry required. So he intended on meeting this beautiful woman and chatting with her. Typically, he could tell rather quickly if they could be a candidate or not. Normally people were not. Most of the time he settled for a good evening of sex instead when he would have much preferred to have found his companion.

But Harry was also alluring. In fact, once he began having sex regularly more and more people would recognize how attractive and persuasive the priest could be. His confidence increased immeasurably once he began having sex. His charm was undeniable. The man was irresistible to many. But of course, being a priest, most did not know the dark secrets he had. He kept his escapades quiet. Mrs. Brockton knew that he was kinky but they’d long ago stopped their tryst and he could trust her to not say a word to anyone.

The young woman who he spotted during his prayer was near the end of the aisle toward the front and to Harry, it appeared she was alone. The woman took note of how the attractive priest kept looking her way. His light green eyes lingering in her direction, the way at one point after a bit of a gaze he smiled shyly and looked down and she could swear she saw him blush. But of course, Harry was acting. He was putting on a show for her. To draw her in.

And it worked. When the service was over, everyone flocked to Harry as they so often did. The young woman lingered and waited for the crowd to thin before she approached the priest who looked like a god.

Harry saw her coming toward him from his peripheral. He knew she'd come to him. So when he turned to her he acted surprised and flattered that the new girl was coming to greet him.

And she ate up his act, combined with the underlying sensual nature of the way he would lean in to speak and his voice would drop so that only she could hear, the way he'd touch his lips "innocently", and the way his eyes took her in as she spoke, roaming her face and her neck as if to size her up. She felt like the only person in the world at that moment. But he was still very priestly, Godly, at the same time.

Harry decided to take his time with this one. He wanted to invite her over right away for a drink to feel her out but he wanted to play up the godly priest as much as he could. It would be a real test when it came time to learn what she liked. Would his being a priest deter her? If so, she wasn't the one. But, if it only drew her in more, if she was more intrigued by his godliness and still wanted to explore with him then she could be a good fit.

Harry had plans that evening to join a family at their home for dinner. The Sothebys were quite wealthy and Harry very much enjoyed being invited for dinner. They had the most lavish meals with the best wine and bourbon. Harry never drank much but he did enjoy a vintage cabernet sauvignon from time to time, or an aged, smooth bourbon on the rocks.

Tonight’s dinner had been a special occasion, according to Mrs. Sotheby. They had their niece with them to visit from out of town for a while. Harry was given a glass of a cab and directed to sit in the parlor with Mr. Sotheby and his son for a chit-chat while the ladies finished dinner. Harry truly did care for all members of the parish. He loved them and his empathy and kindness toward them were evident. Everyone trusted Harry and he was the best listener. It’s what made him so good at being a priest. Not only did he love God and knew the word well, he understood humans and empathized as a sinner himself. He loved listening to his members and giving advice. He enjoyed praying for them and with them. Despite Harry’s dark secret, his heart was big and he was loving.

When everyone was ushered into the dining room to eat, Harry sat in the spot he normally took closest to the window where the sun would oftentimes be shining in, but on this day, the sky was overcast and there was a cool breeze coming in from the North. Winter was on its way.

Harry had finished his glass of wine as Mrs. Sotheby brought in a tray with Beef Wellington surrounded by roasted vegetables. It looked delicious and Harry was hungry for Mrs. Sotheby’s cooking. And he just knew she must have used prime beef tenderloin in the Wellington because the Sotheby’s did not skimp on the quality of ingredients for all the years he’d been dining with them.

“Father, you’re low on wine. Here, let’s get that taken care of…” Mrs. Sotheby spoke as she turned toward the kitchen, “Y/n!! Please bring that bottle of Caymus with you, hon!”

Nearly fifteen seconds later she was there. Harry’s fantasy girl. He saw her enter the dining room with a bottle of wine in one hand and a bowl of bearnaise in the other.

She didn’t look at him immediately but he knew she was aware of him. She must have been. This dinner was made with him in mind, and it was also welcome for her visit.

Harry remained stoic as he watched her place the bowl down near the large serving platter and then she looked up to let her eyes land on the priest’s. She smiled and he watched her take a deep breath as she rounded the table toward him, “Here, Father… let me top you off,” her sweet voice could almost be tasted. Harry watched her move as she lifted the bottle and poured the red liquid into his glass. Her neck was slender and her jaw was soft and feminine. Her hair was pinned back on the sides, which was different than how she wore it a couple of hours earlier at mass. Harry noted the slight natural blush over her cheeks and he thanked her when she placed the bottle down on the table.

Harry was pleased when she sat next to him. She didn’t speak much but ate her food and smiled throughout. Harry noted she only had one glass of wine and that she seemed a tiny bit nervous. He wondered if he should address her nervousness with her in private or not. He was searching for any excuse to speak to her alone.

Dinner was amazing. Harry had his tummy full and two glasses of wine during dinner and then afterward a glass of bourbon on the rocks as he normally did. The men sat in the parlor once again to chat and wind down as the women cleaned up. But Harry didn’t like this setup anymore. He enjoyed chatting with Mr. Sotheby and his son, but he wanted to see Y/n and assist in clean up, like the gentleman that he was.

“I think I’d like to help clean up the kitchen with the ladies if you don’t mind, gentleman,” Harry spoke as he got up from the cushy seat.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Sotheby and Y/n were giggling about something and wrapping the food when Harry entered. Y/n quickly turned to see him and her eyes widened when she looked at Mrs. Sotheby. Both women stopped what they were doing and looked at one another with a secret in their eyes.

“Father, what can I help you with?” Mrs. Sotheby rang out as she continued her task.

Harry strode into the room casually with the confidence of a man who knew what he was doing, “I’m here to help, ladies. Felt wrong to let you two do all the clean up when you’ve also cooked everything and made this dinner possible. The least I can do is help out.”

Harry began to roll up his sleeves as he walked toward the sink, intent on washing some dishes and assisting in the best way he could.

“That’s really not necessary, Father. We love having you join us. I know you always insist on helping but truly, I’ve got Y/n here with me now and I think you should enjoy your conversation with Hank.”

Harry looked toward Y/n and she was wrapping up the vegetables with a small, shy smile on her face as she looked down. Adorable, he thought. He began to rinse the dishes in the sink and turned to look at Mrs. Sotheby, “I knew you’d say that. But I’d rather serve than sit.” Harry loved using corny sayings like that. His congregation ate it up and they always thought of Harry as someone who loved telling a good dad joke here and there. And he did. He enjoyed his dual life and cherished both of his sides.

When the dishes were done and the kitchen was clean, Harry finished off his glass of bourbon and prayed with the family before leaving. He had everyone stand together in a small circle and hold hands, being sure to stand near Y/n. Her fingers were cold in his large palm but he cupped her hand in his securely, occasionally loosening and then tightening around her fingers.

The prayer was a quick one but the feel of Harry’s hand around Y/n’s had her heart pounding. Harry’s work there was done. He’d eaten a good meal, had plenty to drink which would put him right to sleep, got to watch sweet Y/n blush and listen to her speak on various topics from time to time, and got her a bit flustered as well even though he hadn’t really done much. She seemed to fit his type quite perfectly.

He would have much preferred to have brought her to his bed to play with her at the end of the night, but he knew he needed to suss her out first. She was, after all, a niece of someone wealthy in the congregation and he couldn’t just go off and fuck her and then invite her to be his submissive companion. The work of getting the right one was a slow, arduous process that couldn’t be rushed. Especially when it came to someone that might be attending his services. He’d like her as a pet immediately but he could be patient to be precise in his actions.

The following week at mass Y/n was there again. Harry was happy to see her pretty face amongst the congregation and she kept her eyes on him as he spoke. Harry used his incredible self-control to not look her way as often as he wanted. And his self-control was certainly a thing he used in many circumstances. He was, after all, a man who’d abstained from sex for 30 years and who barely allowed himself to masturbate. But now, he’d been having sex for nearly three years and he no longer abstained from it or masturbation. But his self-control was still incredible and so not looking toward Y/n was not that difficult.

Harry had wanted to reach out to her during the week, an excuse to talk to her under the guise of giving her advice or counsel if she chose. But he stopped himself during the few moments of weakness in his mind. It also helped that he had a woman in his parsonage with him for a few days the week after meeting Y/n. So he wasn’t hard up, but he did think of Y/n every day, which was not his norm. The woman was meant to stay longer but Harry dismissed her Sunday morning before mass. They’d had their fun together, but Harry was not interested any longer. He was interested in Y/n now.

When service had come to an end, Y/n left quickly, which put a frown on Harry’s face. He spoke with his members and prayed with them as he always did and when he was invited to dinner with the Fortanels, he declined this time. He wanted to find Y/n and perhaps have a moment with her. He would never get anywhere with figuring out anything about her if he didn’t try to have contact with her.

So he did what any man would do who wanted to get to know a woman he was interested in, he called her. Not her directly, but he dialed the Sotheby’s number and asked to speak with Y/n when Mr. Sotheby answered the call, “Hi. It’s Father Harry here. I just wanted to see if I could speak with Y/n for a moment. I felt something in my heart that needed to be said to her today and I couldn’t find her after mass this afternoon.”

When Y/n spoke into the receiver Harry couldn’t stop his smile from taking over. He told her something he made up as his reason for the call and asked her if she’d like to join him the following evening for a small prayer group that he held on Mondays in his parsonage. Of course, Y/n was quick to say yes. She was intrigued by the handsome priest.

That evening, Harry didn’t have one of his regulars come over for a night in his bed as he normally would. He resorted to what many single people do, masturbation. He thought of Y/n’s smooth skin and her lips, her big round eyes, and her shy demeanor. On the very surface she seemed like a good candidate, but how could he know if she truly would fit into Harry’s world the way he wanted until he got to know her better?

Before the prayer meeting, where there would only be three others in attendance, Harry set up his room, put away his flog and ties, covered the cage, and locked his bedroom door for good measure. Then he set up the living space where everyone would sit, knowing that two of those coming were a couple and would sit next to one another, which meant Y/n would inevitably be sitting next to Harry. He readied coffee and pulled out two bottles of wine and lit a candle. It was his typical setup. Harry’s home was very plain. He didn’t have many things to clutter the space. Only a few pictures of his family from London and one or two knick-knacks that had been given to him over the years. His wooden floors had a large carpet covering the center and the furniture he used had been there when he moved in.

Y/n arrived first. Harry had a feeling she would. She was shy and smiley and polite off the bat. Harry ushered her in and gently put his hand on her low back, just the slightest touch. He didn’t want to seem like a creep. But with the way she blushed, he knew she liked it. She accepted a glass of wine and sat in one of the chairs Harry had put in the circle.

“Is there anything you’d like to speak with me about one-on-one before the other two arrive, Y/n?” Harry tilted his head and looked at the young woman with his own glass of wine in hand as he sat next to her.

“Oh, well, I think I would like to talk about something. Um…” but before she could continue there was a knock at the door to indicate the others had arrived. Harry gave her a disappointed look, “Stay after the meeting with me and we can talk about it then,” he spoke as he got up to open the door for the new arrivals.

Everyone had their fill of coffee and wine during the hour-long prayer meeting. Half of the time was taken up by Arthur speaking about his concern for the state of the world. Usually, the prayer meetings would include discussion and then prayer based on what was discussed, this time was the same. Y/n barely spoke but Harry could sense her eyes on him for most of the meeting. They sat next to one another in the small little circle and when they ended with prayer Harry took her hand in his and like the time before when he’d held her hand in prayer, he loosened and tightened his grip around her hand slowly, like a comforting squeeze. But when Y/n suddenly squeezed his hand back Harry smiled to himself as he continued speaking his prayer. Her squeeze was not subtle, and neither was the way she used her thumb to gently drag it along the inside of his palm.

When the couple left, finally, Harry and Y/n sat back in their respective spots next to one another and Harry prompted her to continue where she left off earlier.

Y/n’s cheeks were wine flushed, but she was not drunk, just cozy and warm. She licked her lips and sat up straight as if she was called on in school to answer the question in front of the class. She wiggled her bottom in her seat and cleared her throat, “I have been thinking of going to confession but I haven’t made it yet because it’s so hard to admit sometimes when I’m in sin. I’m here with my aunt and uncle because of things I did back home. Things I was interested in and it’s awful and embarrassing but I’m hoping here I can become new again and move on from my old ways.”

Harry rolled his lips into his mouth and squinted at Y/n as she spoke. He didn’t know of her past, “Tell me, dear. What have you done? You can skip going to the confessional if you do it here with me. It’s the same really. I’d be the one listening to your sins anyway. I won’t judge you. That’s not for me to do.

He was very curious as to what she’d done that led her to move in with her aunt and uncle temporarily and get away from her hometown. She was an adult who could have made her own choices and gone to any town, but she chose to come here to get away from whatever it was she’d done.

Y/n laughed and looked at her lap where her hands were clasped together before she lifted her head to put her gaze on the priest, “Sexual sin. I’ve had sex and I know I should wait for marriage, but it’s so hard because it feels so good. It feels like God wants us to have sex often, he made us to enjoy it, right? And that’s my problem. I just like it and I don’t feel as guilty about it as I should,” she looked back down and bit her lip. Her cheeks were especially pink now. From embarrassment or shame.

Harry was very interested. The girl was into sex and admittedly so. But who wasn’t really? Most of his congregation came to him for sins of lust when it came time to confess. There were hardly any virgins amongst his members, not even the ones who were single and publicly claimed to be.

“Your feelings are normal, dear. Sex is a very important part of how we express love and pleasure and it’s hard to deny ourselves of the flesh at times. We are all guilty of the sin of lust. Most humans are not free of that burden,” Harry kept his eyes on the girl and watched as she shook her head. She turned to look up at Harry again.

“Well, yes, Father. That’s true. But my problem is deeper I think. It’s not just the sin of lust and premarital sex, it’s sexual deviancy,” she whispered the word deviancy like it was a bad word, “I like things most people do not and it’s frowned upon, especially as a Christian. It’s part of why I moved here. I was found out,” she wrung her hands together in her lap and closed her eyes and sighed before she opened them back up to continue, “I was caught with a married man. He’d left me tied to his bed thinking his wife was going to be gone for the day. But she returned while I was there on her bed and now I’m here. Trying to be better.”

Harry was silent. He didn’t know how to respond to this beautiful young woman admitting to him the things she just had. And so openly. He wanted to ask her more about what she liked but felt that would be too much too soon. Inappropriate in fact. But he was bursting to know.

“I see. Look, we all have things that are hidden and dark. We do our best to deal with them in the kindest way we can in this life. The best thing you can do is to be kind to yourself. Don’t doubt you’re a wonderful person just because you have a preference for certain things,” Harry put his hand on her shoulder to emphasize his words. And he meant them. He always felt humans were too hard on themselves when it came to sins of lust and sex. He obviously had a soft spot for those who had lustful sin.

He watched Y/n as she leaned her head to the side toward where Harry’s hand was placed on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and stretched her neck toward his hand but then opened her eyes and looked at the priest, “Thank you, Father. That makes me feel so much better. It’s worse really, than just what I said but I’m too embarrassed to tell you more. I’m sure you’d cast me out like the devil if you knew,” she laughed and smiled at the man. His clear, bright eyes were on hers intently and they were beautiful. His smile revealed dimples on his cheeks and the bit of scruff on his face was so attractive that Y/n forced herself to not imagine what it would feel like being scraped against her face, or in between her thighs.

Harry noted how her gaze lingered on his. The way she looked at his mouth and how she looked desperate a little. The poor thing was probably trying to be good but deep down she just wanted to be bad. But to Harry, she was beginning to fill in all the little boxes he needed to have checked in order to find the right one. He couldn’t know for sure just yet, but he’d continue to find out more about her and make a determination soon. He just needed more time. He wanted to do this right.

Before she left they had agreed upon a schedule for Harry to counsel her and pray with her for her sins. They’d meet together every other day in his parsonage for as long as she needed. Which was just perfect for Harry. He’d get to look at the cute thing as she confessed her dark deeds to him and he’d lead her in prayer and with guidance. And Harry knew she found him attractive. Most people did really, but with Y/n, it excited him in a way he hadn’t been excited about in a long time.

At their first one-on-one meeting, Y/n had withdrawn a bit into herself. She seemed down and gave the priest very little information like she had the first night after their prayer meeting. He wondered if the wine had been a factor in the way she so honestly expressed herself that night. He’d need to work on that with her. Relying on alcohol as a way to feel more expressive and comfortable was worse to Harry than it was to have sex outside of marriage.

He still gave her gentle advice, prayed with her, and kissed her forehead before she left. He could tell she was struggling. But he could see how she was looking at him when he’d speak, how she kept crossing her legs and would squeeze her thighs tightly together, her flushed cheeks, and that was all he needed to know that she was aching for relief. Perhaps she was so overwhelmed with need and lust that she was pushing herself to close up. Which was probably a normal reaction. Harry had gone through the same when he first fought with himself to stop his sudden need to have sex. He would be patient with her.

In their following meeting, Harry was armed with a bit more information. After she left their one-on-one meeting he decided to search for her on social media. She had a pretty decent presence online. She was popular, had a lot of friends back home, and seemed like a normal young woman as far as he could tell. But then the further he dug he found some people who had mentioned her in their posts. Particularly one woman who seemed to greatly dislike her.

He came to find out that the man that Y/n had been caught with was this woman’s husband. She dragged Y/n and exposed her secrets in detail online. According to the woman, her husband had been seduced, and then he tied her to the bed as he left to go get help which is when the wife arrived home, as the man was out “getting help”. He learned that Y/n was completely naked in their bed where she was tied at the wrists and ankles. She had marks over her thighs, her stomach, and her back, likely from being spanked, but the wife posed that Y/n had done it to herself as a way to make everyone feel sorry for her.

This said a few things to Harry. First, was that he believed Y/n and that when she said she’d been seeing the man it was likely not the first time they’d been together, nor the first time she’d been tied to his bed and spanked. And with the man having gone to “get help” it was more likely part of their play and he was leaving her as punishment. Y/n liked to be punished.

Harry was thankful for social media but he was also angry that her secrets had been exposed in such a heartless way. Of course, the woman thought that her husband was totally innocent, but that’s Christian society for you in a nutshell, putting all the blame on the woman and absolving the man. Harry tried to lead his congregation in a way that allowed for empathy and love no matter what. He would have been pissed at any of his followers if they had ousted a fellow member in this way.

Y/n was quiet at first when she arrived at their second one-on-one meeting. But her face looked brighter this time and she seemed to be more talkative after a little bit of Harry nudging her in the right direction. He wouldn’t tell her about what he knew. He hoped that she’d tell him in her own time, though. And she did. Not at that meeting but the following week she’d poured her soul out to him.

Of course, it didn’t just happen that she handed the priest all of this information out of the blue. The lead-up during their meetings had given her the boost she needed to tell him of all her sins.

There were a lot of longing gazes from Y/n’s end and Harry would give her soft touches and sly grins. Harry would allow himself to work his eyes down over her face and to her neck as she spoke, purposely letting her see how he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He’d rub her shoulders and speak quietly into her ear even though it was just the two of them in the living area of his parsonage. He admitted to her how he would sometimes wake from dreams of feeling lust and the need to repent himself. He brought up his flog even to see her reaction and react she did.

When he described to her how some mornings he’d wake from a sexual dream he’d flog himself to calm his nerves and he watched as her breathing picked up. She watched his lips as he spoke and he’d often catch her drifting her gaze downward towards his lap. He knew she wanted more from him but she’d never attempt it with the holy priest. Which was precisely what he hoped. He needed her to first see him as a leader and a holy man. He’d soon reveal his other persona when the time was right. If it was ever right.

So, on the day that she finally broke down and told him all of her sins it was like a weight was lifted from her. She paused between breaths and composed herself as she spoke but she got everything out and Harry couldn’t have been more enamored. She was perfect.

“I was accused of seducing that man, Tom, and then his excuse for tying me there was to stop me from tempting him while he went to get help. Which is ridiculous because look at me, I’m no match for any grown man. He didn’t need help,” she sighed and laughed in a scoff, “You see, he’d left me there so he could go run an errand. We had a thing where he’d tie me up and leave me after punishment, like spanking me and smacking me, and well, anyway… I like that sort of thing. I like being punished and worse really. It’s embarrassing when I’m speaking to you like this but I feel good to be able to say it out loud.”

She continued and Harry watched her as he took his forefinger and lightly rubbed it over his lips, up and down. He purposely gazed at her and allowed his features to soften over her face and she noticed the way he was looking at her. She would pause frequently when she took note of the look of hunger on his face but would shake her head as if to tell herself to snap out of it.

“He told everyone that I’d beat myself. My bottom, my back, thighs, everything. But he did it. No one believed me. It’s crazy that he tied me to his bed while I was naked with large handprints all over my body and a tie over my eyes so I couldn’t see and yet, people thought he not only didn’t put his hands on me but that he tied me to the bed with my legs spread apart with his sperm literally dripping from me in order to go get help,” her laugh was unamused. “They all believed him. They thought I beat myself and stripped nude and masturbated in his bed and that he had to tie me down with my legs open and put something on my eyes as a way to restrain me.”

But she didn’t stop her confession, “And I’ve done that before with others too. I like it. Being captive, being punished. I don’t know why I like it; I just do. Makes me feel so vulnerable and needed. Like I’m so wanted that they keep me tied down so I can’t leave. I know I shouldn’t like that or want something like that. It’s awful. It probably sounds like I’m completely deranged. I guess I am a little. But I do feel better after talking with you this past week. You’ve helped me a lot Father, and I’m glad I met you.”

Harry was willing away his erection. He’d abstained from having sex since he’d started these little sessions with Y/n. Not from masturbating, but from sex with others. And he was feeling excited at her full confession. She could be just what he needed. He could be just what she needed.

“Thank you for being so honest and open with me, Y/n. This is a step in the right direction. What we say to one another here will remain between just us. Won’t it?” Harry lifted his brows as he moved her hair from off her shoulder to behind her ear. She stiffened at his touch and her mouth parted for a moment before she nodded at the priest.

“Good. We are all sinners, dear. There’s not one of us better than the other,” Harry kept his voice low as he spoke.

Y/n smiled and spoke, “Well, except you, Father. You’re a holy man and better than anyone I’ve ever met. I can just feel it all around. You exude love and compassion. You listen so closely to everyone and you remember everything about them. You’re such a good soul with a wonderful heart. I can only hope to be like you one day.”

Harry nodded with a grin, “You are like me already, Y/n. You don’t know everything about me. I’m a human man. I am still a sinner and that’s what makes me so compassionate toward others. Because we are all in this world struggling to do what is right. Some of us have a worse time with sin than others. Sometimes you might be surprised at what kinds of sin a priest might have hidden.” Harry watched her face closely. Her gaze on him still indicated longing and need. She was very attracted to him, and Harry knew it. He could have probably taken her then to his bedroom and done very awful and wonderful things to her and made her his at last. But he refrained. He had to follow his plan accordingly. She was so close to being a perfect fit for him. He just needed to be sure she was the one.

The day of the following meeting was chilly and windy and cold. A winter storm seemed to be coming in and Harry had considered telling Y/n to stay home but before he had the chance to call the Sotheby’s she was already at his door, bundled up in her winter coat with a scarf around her neck and a wool cap on her head. Her nose was red and she wasn’t wearing gloves. Harry pulled her in and the wind from outside wafted into his warm parsonage. Harry hadn’t prepared for her quite yet, as it was about an hour before she was due to arrive. He had a few things strewn about, nothing crazy but he always liked to tidy before he had guests.

He closed the door behind her and stood in front of her to begin unwrapping her scarf from her neck in silence. She looked up at him with her big, sweet eyes and Harry looked down at her while he pulled the scarf off, a grin on his face. She just stood and smiled back up at him as he undid her coat, and pulled it off her shoulders, hanging it by the door on the coat hook. She stayed quiet watching him. He found it a little odd but he didn’t mind the new interaction. It’s how he’d want to treat her if she were his. He’d help her undress and take care of her. She liked it too he could tell.

Harry looked down to see she hadn’t worn gloves so he took her hands into his and rubbed over them before putting his mouth to his hands cupped around hers and blew warm air over her fingers. She sighed and smiled up at him. That smile was going to kill him. He repeated blowing warm air over her hands a few times until his lips met her fingertips and he pressed the tiniest kiss to the pads of the fingers under his mouth then he laughed a breath through his nose and plucked the wool cap from her head, “There you go. Feel better? Want me to make you some tea?”

Harry saw it written all over her face. She didn’t want tea, or anything to drink. She didn’t want him to be nice to her. She wanted something she was too scared to ask for but she smiled and nodded because of her naturally submissive manner, “Yeah. Hot tea could be nice, Father.”

Harry smirked down at the lovely girl and smoothed her hair a bit. It had gotten staticky from the way he’d pulled the cap from her head. She laughed shyly when she realized what he was doing and then she followed him to his kitchen.

When they passed into the kitchen Harry realized he hadn’t closed the door to his bedroom since he hadn’t been prepared for her yet. There wasn’t anything too revealing lying out, except his flog at the end of the bed, but he wasn’t sure if she’d seen it or not.

He made tea and they sat in the little kitchen together and made small talk.

“You arrived early. I hadn’t expected you to come yet,” Harry said as he looked down at his mug and then back up at the beautiful young woman.

Y/n nodded, “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to miss the chance of coming by for a bit. The weather channel made it seem like the storm would be very bad and I wondered if I waited too long I might not have been able to come here at all. Sorry.”

Harry reached a hand out to place over Y/n’s and tsk’d at her, “Don’t be sorry, dear. I’m happy you came. I was going to call you and cancel because it does look like a bad one coming. It’s already started to snow,” he looked over her shoulder and out the window where white snow was blowing wild in the air with the wind.

One tea turned into two and then Y/n asked Harry if they could pray together, “I’m feeling very particular today. It’s a hard day for me. I’ve been trying to keep my thoughts on God and do what I know is right but I can’t seem to get it straight in my mind. My sinful thoughts are very strong today.”

“That’s good that you told me. We all have hard days. It’s better to be honest about everything than it is to hide it. Hiding it only makes the longing worse,” Harry wanted to stop the façade himself. His longing was getting worse as well. And now that she was here with him alone, the ominous storm approaching, and his neglected cock that he hadn’t had a chance to take care of before she arrived (another thing he hadn’t gotten to due to her early arrival, something he always took care of before she came), he wanted to take care of both of their needs, their longings.

“Is it a hard day for you, Father? I saw the flog on your bed when we passed your room. You told me before how you use it to atone for your sinful thoughts,” she bit her lip after asking and looked at him with round eyes.

Harry nodded with a smile, “You saw that then. Yes. Today is a hard day. And every day before this one as well,” was all he gave her.

Harry took her hands in his and they prayed, bowing their heads over the small table. And like every other time they held hands in prayer, they gently touched and squeezed at the other, a silent bid for something more that had gone unspoken. But it was never quite enough for Y/n to believe it meant more than just a man being kind and loving.

When they released their hands Y/n felt lighter again. She loved it when Harry prayed. It was like he helped wipe her sins away with his words and encouragement. But she wondered if there was more that could be done.

“Father Harry?” She asked with his eyes already on hers. He nodded at her to continue, “Yes?”

She swallowed and looked out of the kitchen toward where his bedroom was, “What is it like to be whipped with the flog? Do you feel atoned when you’re done? Does it feel like the pain takes away your sins?”

Harry’s heartbeat was rapid. There was a definite shift in the way Y/n was today than she had been at any of the other meetings. It was very subtle but she was different today. Needy.

Harry clenched his jaw and looked over his shoulder toward his room and then back to Y/n, “Sometimes it does feel like it helps me repent. But other times it's part of the sin.”

Y/n was silent as she took his words in. She cocked her head to the side and squished her brows together in confusion, “Part of the sin? What does that mean?”

Harry took a deep breath and reached a hand out to take one of Y/n’s in his. He looked down at her hand with a faint smile on his face before looking back into her pretty eyes, “It means sometimes it has nothing to do with atonement or being repentant. Sometimes I enjoy the pain.”

Y/n watched as Harry grazed his thumb over her knuckles and spoke without looking back into Harry’s eyes, “Would you… maybe flog me? Show me what it feels like? Maybe it can help me feel better about my sinful nature.”

Harry looked out the window and he couldn’t see beyond the white flurries. The wind was harsh and he could hear the whistle of the gale as it forced its way into the cracks of the glass panes. He put his eyes back on Y/n and she was still looking down at where her hand was in his.

“That would require you to remove some clothes. I don’t know that you’d feel comfortable with that in front of me,” Harry was getting heated. He was imagining the way the whip would bite into her skin. Not too hard, but just enough that she could really feel it and it would leave a mark. Or two. Or three.

Y/n shot her eyes up to Harry’s and nodded, “I would be okay with that. Would you?

Harry smiled, wider than he intended. This was exactly what he wanted. This was a step toward what he’d felt was necessary for his plan. She was asking him.

Her pupils were blown out in her eyes already, and her mouth parted. She wanted to be flogged but not to atone for her sins. She liked it and he knew she would. She also understood the probable implications of her request after she’d already admitted to him how much she enjoyed a bit of pain, spankings, and punishment. But she couldn’t help herself. And she could play it off as if she only meant to use it as a way to repent if he declined or called her out.

But Harry wouldn’t call her out. He would go along with her in this as long as she wanted. They could both easily play it off, yet they both would understand what was actually going on. It would be a way to ease into what was coming. Harry was quite pleased.

“Okay, my dear. If that is what you want. We’ll go to my room. I have a set up for you to hold onto while I flog your back for repentance.”

Y/n hadn’t expected Harry’s room to be livelier than the rest of the house. His bedroom revealed more of his personality than the rest of the parsonage did. The set-up Harry referred to was a bar hung from the ceiling with cuffs at each end. There was art hung on the walls, a bookshelf stuffed with books, a dresser with jars atop, and a lamp. His bed was large and looked comfortable. And of course, in the corner of the room was a large item covered with a sheet that went nearly to the ceiling and was probably eight feet wide and eight feet long.

“What is that, Father?” Y/n pointed toward the covered item in the corner and walked toward it.

Harry stopped her midway, “That’s just something I use for a hobby of mine. Let’s get to it shall we?” He redirected her away from the cage that had gone unused for longer than Harry liked.

Harry took the flog in his hand and turned to Y/n, “You’ll need to take your sweater and anything underneath off for this. You can face away from me so I don’t see anything if you’re more comfortable with that. And you can decide if you want your hands in the cuffs to restrain you, or if you’d just like to hold onto them. While you remove your sweater, I’m going to clean this,” and he left the room to sanitize the flog. He had used it on himself only that morning and even though he didn’t cut himself deep enough to bleed, he still found it necessary to clean before using it on Y/n.

Harry took his time to get into the smooth leather and wipe all around the parts with warm soapy water. Then he used alcohol wipes over the flog to finish it off. And before he entered the room he took a moment to breathe and calm himself. He was half hard in his pants with the images that ran through his brain. When he felt somewhat settled he returned to the room to see Y/n with her hand over her breasts facing him.

Harry couldn’t help himself from trailing his eyes down her frame and over her skin and to the swell of her soft breasts which she’d hidden only partly from his view. When he looked back at her face he realized she looked happy and excited even. He swallowed heavily as he walked toward her.

“Wrists in the cuffs or just holding onto them?” He asked her as he put the flog down on his bed.

“I’d like them inside the cuffs. Please,” she smiled and Harry nodded. He had a feeling she’d want to be properly restrained.

Harry closed his eyes at the, please. He was going to have to restrain himself from ravishing her. Because he knew she wanted that. He knew she’d beg him and want whatever he gave her. He swallowed again before walking toward her where she stood near the bar.

“I won’t look, but I have to assist you in putting your wrists in here. Lift up.”

Y/n removed her palms from over her breasts and raised them toward the bar. Harry concentrated on not looking down as he secured her wrists in place. Self-control was something he was not rivaled in. As much as he desired to look down over her skin and peek at her nipples and soft breasts his will to control himself was stronger. He had a presence to maintain.

“Father, why do you have this in your bedroom if you are unable to use it without assistance?” Y/n’s voice was small and cautious. She didn’t want to overstep any boundaries but she was too curious to not ask. Harry knew she would.

Harry smirked and looked at her in the eyes, doing well to not drop his gaze to her tits, “For just this very purpose, Y/n. Sometimes others request a flogging too. I help them.”

Both of Y/n’s wrists were secured in the cuffs after Harry’s careful adjustments of the Velcro. She was bare on the top, wearing only jeans on her bottom half. Harry slowly walked behind Y/n and picked up the flog from his bed. The flog he used was black and thin with a single leather strip, knotted at the end. The handle was braided leather, perfect for gripping onto.

Her back was smooth and clear. So pretty, it was almost a shame that she wanted it marked up. Almost. Harry gulped down his saliva and before he could begin he stepped in close to Y/n and stood behind her, craning his neck down to speak near to her ear.

“This will hurt a bit. I won’t break the skin but it’s going to bruise and feel very tender. Tell me to stop if it’s too much for you,” he could smell her shampoo from this proximity. She turned her head to the side towards his face and nodded. He could tell her breathing had deepened. He gently swept her hair from her back and pushed it over her shoulder to the front so that her back was unobstructed. He kept close to her, looking down at her neck as he did so, his fingers ghosting over her neck.

Harry stepped back and looked up at the ceiling, “Speak with me a prayer of forgiveness, Y/n,” he closed his eyes and waited a moment before beginning, “Lord God, please look at my sins and mistakes with a merciful eye and forgive me.”

Y/n repeated the words and Harry landed the flog onto her back for the first time, a strike that caused her to inhale a sharp gasp and squeeze her eyes closed. It shocked her system and her body jolted forward. She gasped for air as soon as the sensation dulled on her flesh and turned into a hot sting across her back.

Harry continued, “I confess to you Almighty God that I have sinned.”

Y/n spoke the words and braced herself for the next stripe to her back. It came from the opposite shoulder this time, and downward toward her spine. She grunted and fell forward, her nails digging into her palms, as she endured her second hit.

“My mortal sin is that of lust. My flesh has been weak and I have given in to temptation.”

Her words were spoken in a softer voice, but still clear and with determination. Harry smiled as he issued her another strike. Once again, Y/n was swung forward, her head dropping downward and she gasped in a small yelp, clenching her jaw when the new lash crossed the middle of her back.

Harry watched as her smooth skin turned red, a raised welt left in the path of the leather. As promised, he did not break the skin, but it was tender and it was going to be sore.

“For this sin and all sins that I have committed in my life, I am seeking repentance.”

Y/n’s voice came out shaky. Harry watched as her arms quivered as she tried holding herself up. It had only been three strikes and she was already quite fatigued; he could tell. Harry repeated raising the flog and bringing it down in a quick motion over the center of her back near her spine.

This time Y/n crossed her legs together and gasped in a breathy pitch as she put most of her weight on her arms and wobbled forward slightly. Harry couldn’t see her breasts but he knew the sight would have been glorious.

Harry wondered if it was too much. He watched her body for a moment as she regained her composure, “Y/n, are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

She was quick to shake her head, “No, Father. Let’s finish the prayer. Please. I need it.”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. There it was again, the, please. He enjoyed this. He imagined how it felt on her skin, he knew the sting and burn well. He could almost taste it in his mouth, the pain of the lashings. And it was a good taste. He bit down and clenched his jaw in satisfaction with the moment.

“Count these stripes as my penance, oh Lord God, you who are all good and deserving of my love and devotion.”

It took a moment for Y/n to repeat the words but when she did Harry realized it then. It was in her breathy voice, the way her back was arched and ready for the next hit, and how she crossed her legs with the last lashing, still squeezed together, thighs clenched.

With a smile, Harry brought the leather down onto her flesh again and to his delight, the sound that left Y/n’s mouth was a moan. A sound typically dedicated to the result of something pleasurable happening.

“I resolve with the help of your grace to keep my eyes on you, Holy Father. Amen.”

Harry listened to the way Y/n spoke her words in a slow breathy voice. Her neck was draped downward and her arm muscles were straining against her weight. She was enjoying this. Perhaps in the same way Harry did.

The sixth and final lash on her back drew a louder moan out of her mouth. After she shifted forward she lulled her head to the side and Harry could see her mouth was open. Her breaths were labored, heavy.

Harry put the flog down and stood behind Y/n, gently placing his hands on the back of her ribs, “Y/n, no more lashings. Now listen to my words of forgiveness and then you’ll say for his mercy endures forever.”

She nodded and hummed and pushed herself up to stand fully on her feet. Harry kept his hands lightly on her back and looked down at her neck, as he spoke his absolution in a voice barely above a whisper, “Give thanks to the Lord for he is good.”

“For his mercy endures forever,” her voice was surer now, still breathy but less shaky.

Harry was tempted to dip his mouth down onto the curve of her neck and press his lips on the small freckle that he saw under her jaw. She still had her neck bared to him, her head hung to the side and Harry wondered if she was doing it on purpose, exposing her neck to him. Offering herself to him in a way. He would need her to verbalize it if so.

Harry leaned down, his hands ghosting down her sides as he put his face closer to her neck but he didn’t allow his lips to touch her skin, “You did very good, Y/n. I’m going to release you now.”

Harry removed each wrist and stayed in his spot behind her. He remained close and Y/n made no attempt to move from her spot. She turned her head to the side and Harry could see her profile, blinking, a smile on her face. If she turned further she’d be able to see his face but there was the chance that her breasts would be in view.

“Thank you, Father,” Y/n spoke in a soft whisper as she lifted her hands to cover her breasts and turned her head to look at him from over her shoulder.

Harry didn’t move from his spot as he looked over her face slowly. He didn’t let his gaze drop below her shoulders. She wasn’t his to ogle. Not yet anyway. But he could recognize that she was beautiful. And perfect.

“Stay right here. I’m going to get something for your back,” Harry was quick to get what was needed for Y/n’s welts. A warm, damp cloth and some ointment.

When he came back into the room, Y/n was still standing exactly where he left her, “Lie down on the bed on your stomach and I’ll help you with this.”

Harry approached her as she arranged herself on his bed, tummy down. Harry was already anticipating the moment he could rinse her back and then rub the cream over her. He’d touched her gently while she was restrained, but now he would be permitted to put his hand into complete contact with her skin, to really touch her and take care of her wounds.

Y/n put her arms upward, elbows bent, and her face to the side so her cheek was down and she could see Harry behind her from the peripheral. He kneeled on the bed next to her and gently placed the warm rag over her back to soothe the burn, “Are you okay? How do you feel, Y/n?”

Y/n took a deep breath and closed her eyes when Harry began to blot the damp rag down her back, “I feel very good, Father,” her voice was still breathy and soft.

Harry hummed in response with a nod to himself as he continued gently dabbing the rage over her back. When it was time to put the ointment over her he rubbed it into his palms to warm it, as he noticed she had goosebumps over her flesh.

His wide palms slowly caressed her back and smoothed the cream over her sores. He watched as Y/n bit her lip, her eyes still closed. Harry smiled. He used both hands to knead gently down her spine and apply the ointment. It took longer than it should have but Harry enjoyed the way her skin felt under his hands. She was soft and open for him. So willing and sweet.

“You did very well, Y/n. I think this looks good,” he spoke with his palms still flat on her low back, “I’ll leave you to put your sweater on, I can tell you’re cold.”

Harry stood from the bed with the rag and the jar of cream when Y/n pushed herself up and turned her head, “Wait, Father. I need to confess one more thing.”

Harry stopped his motions and turned to see her. Her top half was still hidden, breasts down into the comforter below her. He ticked his chin downward to indicate for her to continue.

“I… really liked that. More than I should. I feel bad because it didn’t mean to me what it was meant to mean. It’s my sin. I can’t control it. I’m sorry, Father,” she looked down at her forearm that was holding her up and Harry could see how red and bitten her lips looked. The delicate thing. She was a lot like him. The flogging was both a penance and a guilty pleasure.

“I understand. I sometimes see it the same way, Y/n. Your pain still acts as penance. Even if you somehow enjoy it. We can talk about this when you’ve dressed. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, though,” Harry turned and left the room. He was nearly quivering at what had just happened. He was keyed up from not only flogging the beautiful young woman but all of her admissions to him about what she liked and what she felt was her sin. The girl couldn’t be more perfect for him.

Harry put on another pot of tea and took note of the storm outside. The snow had piled against the parsonage and the wind bellowed outside. It would be too dangerous for her to walk or be driven back to the Sotheby’s in this weather. A fact that he quietly delighted in.

Y/n stepped into the kitchen behind Harry and leaned against the counter to watch him with the tea setup. The two did not speak for a few moments, both lost in their own minds about the reality they were suddenly in. Y/n having been honest with the priest about her sins and the priest reeling over the similarities of their preferences.

Harry turned to look at the pretty girl standing next to him, “You will likely need to stay until the storm subsides,” he looked past Y/n out the window that was on the opposite wall, “perhaps even all night.”

She turned to look out the window and Harry saw a smile crawl onto her face. His own expression was similar, pleased, expectant.

They took tea in his living room and the only sounds that could be heard were the gale winds outside. Y/n looked at Harry, her eyes wide and curious. When Harry looked up at her after a sip of his hot tea he felt he could understand her without a word being spoken.

“Tell me what your thoughts are, Y/n,” he set the teacup down and leaned back into the couch, his hands in his lap.

Y/n breathed out a small laugh and looked down at her lap. She was on the same couch as Harry but separated by a cushion between them.

With her head down she began to speak, “I feel very happy with you, safe. I don’t feel judged or looked down upon,” she lifted her head to look up at the man, his light green eyes taking her in, listening intently as always.

Harry nodded and stayed silent. He wanted her to continue.

Y/n swallowed and fiddled with her fingers, “Thank you for that, Father,” she leaned forward and took a sip of her tea, before leaning back into the couch and cupping the mug into her hands to keep them warm.

She continued, “I’m sure you cannot relate to having lustful thoughts in your heart like me. But I do wonder, what are your sinful thoughts that you feel are so hard that you flog yourself to repent? You said today was a hard day for you.”

Harry let the side of his mouth quirk up in a smile as he looked down. She was a curious girl.

“I’m a man, Y/n. I have lustful thoughts in my heart as most humans do. God has created us to procreate and he made sex feel very good,” Harry was sure to emphasize the words feel very good, “for a reason. It’s in the worst of people and the holiest of us.”

There was a moment of quiet when the wind changed direction and Harry watched Y/n move on her cushion as she tucked a foot under her bottom and turned toward him, “What was hard for you today, Father? The sin you had to atone for.”

Harry’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and he took a breath, “Lust.”

Harry’s eyes were severe on Y/n’s and he watched her lips part softly and her eyes soften, “Really? I imagine it must be very hard being a priest with your vows and all. Have you ever had a relationship, Father?”

Harry flattened his lips and squinted at the girl. Before he could respond Y/n spoke quickly, “I’m sorry! You don't have to answer. I’m sometimes too curious for my own good and you’re so interesting to me. Don’t answer if it’s too much.”

Harry chuckled and sipped his tea, slowly placing it down on the table next to the couch before putting his eyes back on the pretty girl, “I have had relationships, yes. It isn’t against the priesthood per se. Not anymore. But my own vows of celibacy and dedication to God, it is against them. And yes. It’s very hard being a priest and feeling lust.”

“Celibacy. So… you’ve never…” Y/n closed her mouth and looked down at the floor for a moment. “That makes me feel very ashamed of what I’ve done and how I feel lately. I feel like I have not been honest with you, but now knowing this about you makes me feel even worse for the things I’ve imagined,” she looked down at her lap and shook her head.

Harry reached a hand out to cover hers, “Do not feel ashamed. I would not look at you differently no matter your confession to me because I’m a sinner just the same. And I haven’t followed my vows. I love God and I love being a priest, but I love other things as well. Those things are between me and God. He is my judge and he knows my heart.”

Harry knew Y/n wasn’t dumb. He knew he’d told her enough that she could piece things together on her own. And her expression revealed to him just as much. She nodded with a small smile at his words and looked down at his hand covering her.

Keeping her eyes on Harry’s, Y/n slowly brought her free hand down to Harry’s and then lifted his hand upward. She leaned down to press her lips to his knuckles and slowly kissed each one. Harry’s mouth dropped open as he watched her kiss his hand. Her soft lips on each of his knuckles were innocent but the way she looked up into his eyes as she did so was not.

Harry breathed out heavily at the contact and let her continue. She manipulated his hand so that his palm was facing upward and she kissed the center of his hand and up to his fingers. She placed small pecks to the pads of each finger and kept her eyes on his. The intimate gesture was more than just a kind act of reverence.

With his hand held in both of hers, she kept her lips over his fingers as she spoke to him, “I love your hands, Father,” she closed her eyes and continued kissing along his fingertips. Harry watched her in awe.

She kept her eyes closed and spoke again, “I dreamt of you last night, and it was the best dream,” her voice was a whisper, “it was sinful, dirty, and I didn’t want to wake from it. But I liked it,” she continued kissing his fingers. When her tongue gently swiped over the pad of his thumb Harry inhaled a sharp breath and then lifted his free hand and carded his fingers through her hair gently.

The moment she felt Harry’s hand in her hair she opened her eyes again to look at the priest and very cautiously, slowly kissed the tip of his thumb before parting her lips and sucking just the very tip into her mouth. When she saw that Harry was not opposed to this action, she took more of his thumb into her mouth, their eyes locked. Harry tilted his head and watched her, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his mouth dropped open, nostrils flaring.

Harry had no expectations of her doing anything like this, but he wasn’t too particularly surprised. He knew she had at least a small crush on him, he hoped it was more than just a small crush and he was not disappointed in the way she was responding to him.

“You’re a good girl, Y/n. We cannot help the way God has made us,” Harry’s voice came out a bit cinched and breathy. He was enjoying this display very much.

Y/n kept her eyes on Harry’s as she took his pointer finger into her mouth and did the same as she had with his thumb. Her mouth was warm and soft over Harry’s digits. This was clearly a sexual gesture and Harry would not stop her from continuing. He kept his eyes on hers and watched the lustful show of Y/n lips wrapped around his finger.

When she removed her mouth from his finger she spoke, “Can I… Please, Father, can I,” she got out of her seat, making Harry remove his hand from her hair, and she dropped onto her knees. Putting her hands on the priest’s knees she looked up at him from her kneeling position, “Father, I’ll do whatever you want. I just, please, let me revere you and you can do whatever you please to me. We can go to God together for our penance, to atone. Just let it be with me that you sin. I’ll take it on, a sacrifice to your goodness, Father. I’m not worthy of you, but I’m begging you to pity me, let me take your sins and your punishment. I’ll do it happily if you let me serve you.”

The moment suddenly changed with her vocalization of what she wanted. Harry grasped her chin and shook his head with a soft expression, “I don’t think you realize what you’re asking me, Y/n. I’m being very serious right now. That’s what you want? Do you know what it means to do what you say? I need to know what you think that means.”

Y/n let out the tiniest whimper at the feel of his hands on her jaw holding her face to look at him, “I… I want to give myself completely to you, I need it. Want it. So badly. But only if you are pleased with me. Only if you want me. But only me.”

Harry wasn’t sure she understood what she was asking. Typically when he took someone as his submissive there was an agreement in place already. He would seek out someone who was previously looking for that kind of arrangement. He felt it was in his best interest, and hers, to be upfront with her.

“I do things most priests would be appalled by, Y/n. My sexual appetite is something I keep very private and separate from my job. I have been searching for someone to keep. Someone who wants to be mine. Someone who will submit and comply at all times to me. A person who would be a willing companion for me. Submissive to me. To allow me to dominate,” Harry paused to monitor her expression. She nodded subtly her eyes still on his.

“Yes. It’s exactly what I want, Father. Anything you want is everything I want,” she spoke in a small voice and Harry smiled. Her answer was good. It was just what he was looking for.

Y/n grasped Harry’s forearm that held her jaw and pulled his hand upward to her mouth again. With her eyes on his and her knees still on the floor at his feet, she spoke in a whisper, “Please, Father,” as he sucked his middle finger into her mouth, her tongue flicking over the underside of his finger.

Harry had had enough. He dragged her upward to his lap where she climbed over him, her thighs straddling his. He pulled her into his body and pressed his mouth over hers once and for all. A kiss that had them moaning and desperate. Her lips on his felt soft and wanton. She trembled in his arms and on his lap as he licked over her tongue. He smoothed his hand up under her sweater and onto her back softly and she winced at the feel from the welts. He ghosted his hands over the raised skin and then lowered his mouth to her jaw and then down to her neck on the little freckle he’d seen earlier. He licked the spot and then sucked the tiniest bruise under her jaw and her gasp told him she enjoyed it.

Harry lowered his mouth down her neck and softly bit at the skin, then he stood up, holding onto her thighs, and walked her to his bedroom in haste where he placed her on his large, soft bed.

“Take the sweater off,” Harry commanded and watched her peel the fabric off of her body. She then moved to take her bra off and the moment her breasts were bare before him Harry groaned and crawled onto the bed next to her, pressing her down flat.

Harry latched his mouth to her breasts and slowly licked over the exposed skin, biting in tiny nips as he kissed down to underneath the flesh of her round tits. Y/n sucked in sharp breaths at the pinch of the bites he gave her and rubbed her thighs together when she moved her hand into his hair.

Harry moved his warm mouth down her body slowly, with generous use of his tongue.

Harry pushed himself up and placed his hands on both sides of her body, caging her ribs, “Roll over. Let me kiss your wounds.”

Y/n bit her lip and moved to her stomach and Harry’s soft touch on her back was followed by his wet lips kissing over the pink and raised skin from the flogging. He applied open-mouthed kisses down the length of each red stripe on her back and he noted how she wiggled her bum and rocked her hips. He smirked as he continued kissing over her shoulder blade, his hand gently caressing her sides.

When he’d finished on her back he sat up and held onto the back of her neck, keeping her head down. Her face was turned, cheek smushed into the comforter.

“You’ll be mine to dominate as long as you want to be my submissive pet. But only if you give me your full consent because I need you to enjoy this with me. I’ve been looking for a long time, Y/n,” Harry spoke softly and lowered his mouth to kiss at her shoulder before continuing, his hot breath falling over her skin as he whispered his words, “You’ll submit to me in every way, taking my punishments, and allow me to have you sexually, emotionally, and spiritually. How does that sound?” He continued a path of kisses over her shoulder and back as he waited for her to speak, his hand still at the back of her neck.

Y/n nodded with her lip quivering, “Yes. Please. I only expect to be taken care of, to be loved, and in return, I’ll take care of you in any way you like. It’s all I’ve wanted. To belong to someone. To give myself completely to someone that cherishes me. And I truly want to belong to you, Father. But only me. No one else.”

Harry sat up and pulled Y/n gently upward by her neck to face him. He could see tears in her eyes. She was getting emotional.

Harry let go of her neck and brought a hand up to wipe at the tear that had fallen under her eye with his thumb, “There, there, darling. You’re already so perfect for me. Beautiful and sweet. I don’t want anyone but you. You and I will be very compatible,” Harry kept his hand on her face, softly swiping his thumb over her cheek. Y/n closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. She was perfect.

“I just want to be yours, Father,” she said softly, her eyes still closed.

Harry softly pressed his mouth to the edge of hers and then kissed where her tears had fallen, “Then you shall be mine now.”

Part 2*

I know this one doesn’t have smut - but prepare yourself for part 2 - it’s dirty and sexy.

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