Happy

Misplaced Theatrics: Dark! Chris Evans x Reader

A/N: Hi lovely people! Surprise! I know I said no fics till July but my exam dates literally shifted the next day lol. My most important paper is still scheduled to be on 1st  August but hopefully it will shift too. Until that happens, my June and July are still scheduled to be super busy but I’ll try to update LaCs and also share this brand new series I’m in love with! Meanwhile take care cookies, I’m sorry I have a tendency to ramble. Also this my first time writing RPF so be kind.

Warning: Non-Con, RPF, Breaking and Entering. IF THIS OFFENDS YOU, DO NOT ENGAGE. 

Genres + Characters: Acting AU/RPF.

Summary: You realise too late that the lines between acting and reality have blurred between you and your co-star.

Word count: 3.5K

Another bouquet of roses, another bunch of stuffed animals, a sweatshirt, one of his sweatshirts that he had been seen wearing in public all the time. Your eyes scrunched as you found a mauve velvet box this time, eyes widening at the brand’s name, Tiffany and Co.

You opened the box, your eyes finding the most gorgeous piece of jewelry you’ve ever laid eyes on, perhaps the most expensive one too; a necklace laced with diamonds, both white and blue.

This was too much.

Emptying the entire box, you kept the articles aside and folded the box so it occupied less space and slid it over one of the cabinets. You knew the pap outside had stopped the delivery chap and was now bombarding him with questions which he’d so happily answer. The sender and the contents and whatnot.

This was a PR stunt after all, a means to promote your movie.

Keep reading

The Perfect Shot

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: It’s just another day at work as Lloyd’s intern.

Word Count: around 1K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d, RPF. SMUT! This is dark. Read at your own risk. As you know, Lloyd is a prick. Reader has issues. Employer/Employee imbalance of power, degradation kink, references to choking during sex, revenge porn, sex made public without consent, nipple play, rough sex, fingering, clit slapping, p in v, cum play, implied oral (m receiving). Just pwp.

A/N: This is in response to a challenge from muse @maroonsunrise83. She just says a word and I go. 🤗

NOTICE: I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Lloyd was admiring his bicep as he did his curls and looked up, expecting you to be doing the same.

Instead, you were taking selfies and posting on social media.

You didn’t think that it would be a problem, since he said that he wanted you to sit there and look hot, so you were documenting the fact.

Lloyd loudly put the barbell down, stood up, and grabbed your unoccupied hand, dragging you down the hall to the bedroom.

“I-“

“Shut up and keep scrolling. Better yet, record a video.”

But you dropped your phone as he pulled your new Ivy Park workout top over your head and threw you on the bed.

“Pick. The fucking phone up. And record.”

Lloyd’s menacing tone was harsh, but you smirked and did as you were told, documenting him stripping off his Moncler muscle shirt.

“Not my face.”

His rude growl only turned you on as did his menacing advance. You made sure only to document his body.

He lay down beside you and looked into your eyes.

“Now use your photography skills…”

He smirked under his mustache.

“To capture what my mouth does. Get that perfect shot.”

Lloyd was mocking you now.

And his mouth descended on your nipple, sucking it roughly into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. You moaned and moved to grab his hair, and about to forget your phone.

“Ah ah ah,” said Lloyd around your nipple.

“Take your fucking pictures. Drop that phone and I kick your ass out on the street.”

With that, he grabbed your other breast and started rolling and pinching that nipple.

You tried to keep recording, because Lloyd was paying you a lot to be his “intern,” his dick game was A+, and you might have been starting to catch feelings despite him being a trash human.

Lloyd was doing such a good job that you were ruining the $200 thong which was part of your work uniform, but you managed to keep your camera trained on what his mouth was doing. This would make a great video to watch later.

You were doing okay, until Lloyd shoved his hands down your leggings. You slammed your legs together, which earned a pinch on your thigh, sure to leave a bruise.

It only made you wetter. Lloyd pulled off your nipple with a pop.

“Open your fucking legs.”

Your legs readily fell open, giving Lloyd access to your most private parts. His fingers parted the plump lips of your cunt only to find you quite slippery.

Lloyd gave you a demented smile.

“Oh, you fucking little slut. You’re so wrapped up in yourself instead of doing your JOB, which is me, that you’re wet at this. You little whore. Open those fucking legs wider.”

You followed orders and Lloyd delivered three sound slaps to your clit as he started to bite and suck your nipple again.

Lloyd’s depraved words and the erotic sting of the slaps got you close. You’d learned your first day on the job as Lloyd choked you as he fucked you raw: You liked that shit.

“Don’t drop that fucking phone.”

You readjusted it, recording your own humiliation with a trembling hand. You couldn’t wait to see this video.

Lloyd got up and stripped off his matching shorts, then grabbed your leggings and roughly pulled them down your legs, scratching your thighs.

You filmed him marking you up.

His massive cock was weeping against his stomach, and you wiggled in anticipation as you pointed the phone at it.

“Now, get this and it better not be jumpy. Capture my cock ruining your pathetic tiny little pussy.”

You leaned up on your elbow to get a better angle of Lloyd’s cock at the entrance to your cunt. You could feel his head pounding as you opened your legs wider as if that would help.

He brutally shoved his cock into your dripping hole, and your phone captured your ragged moan at the brutal stretch and delicious pain.

“FUUUUCCCKKKK!”

Lloyd was loud as he entered you.

“I swear the only reason I keep your ass around is this fucking gash. Right. Here.”

You whimpered and moaned as he fucked you to the point that your juices frothed.

“Yeah, get that fucking whipped cream, you slut. Make sure the picture is clear.”

You don’t know how you did it, but you did a pretty good job of getting all the action, proud that he wanted this for his private pleasure. You just knew that he missed you when you weren’t there.

Lloyd’s hands were gripping your hips and causing bruises, and the realization got you close to the edge.

“Cum for the camera, slut. Come all over my giant cock.”

You don’t know how you did it, but you managed to record your pelvis in motion as you fluttered around him. You’d collapsed flat on your back but held the camera up as Lloyd pulled out and came on your torso, jacking off silently, and without any emotion on his face.

Quite cinematically, a drop of his spend landed on the camera lens at the end. It was perfect.

When he was done, he grabbed the phone. He started typing, and you didn’t pay much attention because you could finally relax into the feeling of good sex.

“Are you sending yourself the video?”

“No. I’m posting it to IG.”

“WHAT?”

You sat up, alarmed.

Lloyd grabbed your top and wiped himself off, ruining it. Then he walked off toward the shower.

“My family will see that, and my account will be suspended!”

“Well you should have thought of that before you dicked around.”

Lloyd was in the bathroom now, yelling over the noise of the shower.

“You finally have something good to post besides that stupid little pouty face. Maybe now you’ll pay attention to your fucking JOB!”

He was yelling, but he sounded as if he’d stepped into the shower.

And you felt like you were about to cry.

“Don’t want to see a trace of what we’ve done in that room when I come out. Don’t want to see your fucking face either. You’re done for today.”

You suck it up, stood, and stripped the bed remaking it in 10 minutes flat. Next, you put Lloyd’s clothes in the laundry chute, coming back to lay out an identical outfit for him on the duvet.

Just as you were about to gather your things and disappear, you heard Lloyd call your name.

You padded into the massive bathroom and opened the shower door. Lloyd peered at you with cold eyes.

“I need you to wash my back, and then suck me off.”

You looked down to see his huge wet cock growing large again in his hand.

Lloyd needed you.

You hid a smirk as you replied, “Yes, Sir,” and climbed into the shower to go to work.

Give me feedback, I can take it!

“you, stop . . moving,” sukuna prowls, the base of his chin sat on top of your thighs.

you were in your usual spot, waiting for him to return from whatever battle had him occupied for half the day. moments later, you’re now slouched back against sukuna’s throne with a very grumpy, pouty demon lying his head against the center of your lap. before you could even part your lips to ask him what happened this time, sukuna grumbles. “bad. very bad day, little one.”

humming, you strum a few feathery fingers toward the pink roots of his hair before softly digging a path through his tender scalp. “oh. well, wanna talk about it?”

“no,” he replies gruffly with an abrupt quickness, his pout growing the more he remembered about his day. however, as your fingers continued to comb through his silk tresses, sukuna buried his face between your thighs. “i need… to recharge.”

“most people would drink water or eat somet-”

“shut up.”

“…..”

slowly peeking from between the warmth of your glued legs, sukuna notices the pausing halt on your fingers that played with his hair and he scowls. oh, he’s pouting, and with a cute, annoyed grumble, he avoids your gaze.

“i told you to shut up, not . . to stop doing that. go on. hmph.”

rolling your eyes, you gave him a subtle head pat before hearing a loud sigh exit between your thighs. he’s usually never this clingy, and you remained quiet - wondering just what happened in his day for him to behave so … needy.

your fingers resumed its maze through his scalp tenderly, and his long lashes fluttered close - a soft content sigh dragging away from his thinly parted lips. in a way, you had to admit — this looked silly.

a huge, burly thousand-year-old curse of a demon positioned between your thighs. it was merely comical, and yet, sukuna could really care less.

the king of curses didn’t have a weakness - except you.

“mmgh-” he’d grunt, tilting his head to the left before he felt your thumb gingerly scratching behind his ear. for a second, you think you saw his nose twitching too. sukuna’s pink brows were still forcibly furrowed together, perfectly expressing his stubborn frustration before he let off another noise.

this time though - it’s different . .

it’s a subtle, cooing ‘rrrrr’ sound that’s deeply low. the entire sound alone from sukuna makes your thighs shake a bit and you look down at him with a perplexed look.

“ ‘kuna?” you murmured, the swirling circles of your finger stopping once again. a cunning grin gradually creased against your lips before you gasped. “did you just … purr?”

“i don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“that noise you just made.”

sukuna rolls his eyes, his scratchy voice a bit muffled from how he nearly sank between the arc of your thighs. “pft. i was clearing my throat, obviously. you humans and your delusions-”

“nooo, i heard it,” you cheekily simpered, pinching his cheek. that earned a disgusted glower from him before you brought your fingers back toward behind his ear. “i scratched behind hereeee ‘n then . . you made that sound.”

the demon’s breath hitched once he felt the tip of your stubby thumb leisurely trail its way near behind his ear. instantaneously, his ear even twitched at your delicate touch and his eyes were just whining for more. for once, sukuna doesn’t have a witty remark and he’s just allowing you to toy your fingers against his balmy skin.

“stupid …. it wasn’t a purr. that’s insulting.”

“oh, my bad. what was it then?”

sukuna glares at you, and you return with a smug expression. damn.

sighing, sukuna’s shoulder slacken. “whatever. anyways,” he grumps, his chin sitting back onto your right leg. crimson eyes flicker up toward you before he pouts. “scratch behind my ear again. see what happens.”

“or what, you’ll purr again? ooh. scary.”

sukuna’s cheeks were so flushed - on the very cusps of shading into a bright hue of vermillion before he scoffs. “ha! do it. you wo- mmmmrr-”

cutting him off, you give him a good scratch behind his ear once more, and again—that sound comes out. a soothing, content purr from sukuna that cutely makes his whole body faintly rumble against your thighs.

it wasn’t just the purring, it was all of his changing body language that occurred too.

whenever your fingers would swiftly dash across the sensitive territory that was located behind his ear, sukuna turned into an entire different person. his eyelids would hang low, his nose would twitch, and his usual grumpy expression would slowly switch to a more… tame one.

it’s like your fingers had some sort of magic, and it irritated him but it also made him . . craving more of your touch. “there there,” you hummed, feeling him relax against your touch. your fingertips were always so gentle, dancing down the outer edge of his ear as the low, purring noise continued.

it only lasted for a few seconds but to sukuna, it felt like many, many hours..

the scratching had him nearly hypnotized - and he was already closing his eyes, forgetting all about his horrible day. you silently watched as the curse’s pink slit brows curled apart from its usual furrow, and you could almost see his pout turning into a tiny smile.

it’s a half-almost smile, and sukuna’s starting to feel himself eventually falling asleep.

“such a cat,” you teasingly mumbled, hearing his ragged breaths suddenly come to a mesmeric slow. sukuna deeply sighs, cool puffs of air from his nostrils falling against your thighs. you weren’t sure if he was fully asleep or not, so you gave him a soft poke.

nothing.

giggling, you laid back against his throne as he remained in his same spot—head laid on your thighs as he was kneeling before you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen sukuna so relaxed. he’s usually so angry - so full of hate and uncontrollable rage but now, he looks finally at peace.

at peace in his favorite spot - between your thighs.

in a soft lulling voice, you gave his head a small pat before leaning down to kiss his forehead. “i love you, ‘kuna. sleep well.”

“hng- i love …. you too, little one.” he’d groggily reply, pressing plush lips against the crevice of your thigh.

“never talk about this again, by the way. or els-”

you interrupt his tiny threat by scratching behind his ear one more time and sukuna purrs even louder than before. it’s more high-pitched this time, and he opens his eyes before a pink tint spreads across his face once he realized he purred again.

“d- damn it..”

Sex on Fire | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Synopsis - After watching Eddie hotwire a stolen vehicle, you find yourself desperate for him. Impending doom be damned.

A/N - This scene makes me feral, so of course I had to write about it. ALSO, this is not canon because in this version, everyone makes it. Credit to whoever made the gif!! Enjoy this filth<3

CW - 18+ content (minors go away), dirty talk, language, oral (m + f receiving), spitting, reader is obsessed with eddies hands, orgasms, fluff, established relationship

Word Count - 2.1k

“And you

Your sex is on fire

Consumed with what’s just transpired”

Sex on fire - Kings of Leon

_

You hadn’t meant for it to happen. Honest.

You’d just snuck into someone else’s vehicle, on the way to acquire a mass amount of weapons for an impending fight against a supernatural villain and yet, you were frozen in place, nursing a throb between your legs as you stared at Eddie.

He was sitting in the driver’s seat of the RV, the picture of confidence as he expertly hot wired the engine.

It was absolutely absurd to be turned on at a time like this, when danger was coming, but you couldn’t find it in you to be ashamed. Not when your boyfriend looked the way he did.

His movements were quick; nimble, ringed fingers grasping at wires, fumbling as he picked up the rusty pair of pliers. Finally, as he struggled with multitasking, he placed the tool between his teeth and shit, you were practically vibrating as you watched.

Keep reading

i can’t decide who’s more of a “hand over mouth as i pound you in the back seat of my car so no one knows i’m fucking the loud mouth cheerleader” is that more eddie or steve 🤔

gotta be eddie dude, steve's more of a "kiss you to shut you up" type, but allow me to elaborate on the first for a moment (and by a moment I mean nearly over 1.5k words)

(warnings: smut obv, blood mention, drug use mention, hair pulling, overstimulation, crying during sex/dacryphilia, breath play, extremely vague/not serious breeding kink)

[part 2 here]

"Shh, shh," he soothed, though you could hear the wide grin curling his lips, "don't want anyone to hear, now do we?"

Honestly, though, this was your attempt to stay quiet— digging your teeth into your lip so hard you tasted metallic, gripping the faded leather seats until your nails nearly tore through them. It wasn't your fault that it felt so good, that the weed had made your head all spinny and your insides all tingly and that his dick was slamming right into that spot that made your toes curl. No, that was all his fault; he gave you the joint and he promised it would 'awaken your senses', even if maybe neither of you anticipated exactly which senses it would awaken.

"Don't want anyone shining a light in here, right?" he continued, even though you could barely keep track of what he was talking about. "Don't want them seeing you on your hands and knees getting fucked and screaming like it's the best thing you've ever had, hm?"

"F-fuck, Eddie," you winced, gasping loudly when he tugged on your cheerleader-uniform-mandated ponytail. You breathed through your teeth, wishing you had the strength to tell him not to be so rough, not to fuck you like this... like a whore. But god, this is exactly what you wanted from him, if you were being honest, even if you hated yourself just a bit for liking it so much— for needing it. He dug his fingers into the hair at your scalp, surely ruining your half an hour of styling efforts from earlier tonight, and pushed your head back down against the seats; god, he was really rubbing it in, huh? You almost thought he'd be grateful, that he'd be delicate and careful with you because, well, the opportunity to fuck a cheerleader does not come by for a guy like him. But no, he was putting you in your place, and you were biting your lip to keep from begging him for more.

His free hand held your hips and suddenly his pace changed-- from hasty and rushed to slow but hard, slamming into you and knocking you forward with a loud groan. He did it again, and again, and you cried out louder with each thrust right into the deepest parts of you. "Oh, sweetie," he cooed condescendingly, "are you having trouble keeping quiet? I'll help you, babe— m'gonna shut you up, don't worry—"

He spoke so roughly that he sounded furious, leaning down over you to press his lips up to your ear, and suddenly the hand in your hair slipped around and covered your mouth. He gave you another one, so deep your eyes rolled back in your head, and you finally let it all out— it was muffled behind his hand, anyway, and it felt good to moan as loud as you wanted without it being actually as loud as it would be otherwise.

You weren't quite sure what to think: he was fucking you rather disrespectfully, but the intensity of it, the way he groaned deeply into your ear and mumbled little praises under his breath, the way he held your waist tighter and tighter— you could almost call it passionate, if you didn't know any better. Sure, not exactly sweet, but it could be worse.

Well, actually, it couldn't be better. It was perfect. It was Eddie fucking Munson, and you couldn't quite wrap your head around that yet, but you didn't need to because it felt goddamn perfect.

"Good girl, fuck, goooood fuckin' girl," he hissed into your ear. "Oh, you're still so loud, even with my hand on your mouth— need some more help, babe?"

He squeezed your nose shut with his thumb and the side of his finger, and suddenly you had no air at all; you didn't even care, you didn't need air anymore, you just needed this. It made the numbness that much better, made your eyes well with tears and your throat burn but you wanted more more more— you wanted everything.

"Ohh, fuck, are you coming?" he laughed proudly, fucking you faster right as it hit you. You hadn't even noticed until he said it, but, yep, you were clenching inside and your back was arching deeper and you felt the tears keep flowing over his hand. "Oh my god, that's good— you're so fuckin' tight, Jesus..."

It just kept getting bigger and bigger, it kept twisting in your core and you weren't sure how much more you could take. He let go of your nose and you took a deep breath in, hearing the most deranged noise break out of your throat and peter out in your mouth with his hand keeping it inside. You were crying out his name, at least you were trying to, but it was all just incomprehensible sobs muffled under that thick, clammy hand with the gaudy silver rings that you could taste on your lips.

God, was it ever gonna stop? This feeling, this light show on the back of your eyes, this whole-body spasm that danced under your skin— was it gonna let you go back down to Earth any time soon? Or was this just your new normal, was this just some other state of existence that Eddie had knocked you face-first into, with no plan to rescue you?

It was too much, it was far too much, but you could already see yourself tomorrow morning, staring at the phone, trying to decide how long to wait until coming back for more.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged you, "scream for me, just like that— nobody's gonna hear you, promise."

He couldn't promise that, but he didn't need to. He could fuck you in front of whoever he wanted if it was always gonna be like this; he could fuck you in front of your grandmother and you wouldn't stop him— you were whipped. Like, whipped whipped. Like, 'pearls and heels making a roast dinner if he asks me to' whipped. Like, 'we are so doing this again' whipped.

You heard him gasp, a sound almost like a wince or a cry, almost like it hurt— and you could relate to that right now, certainly. "Fuck!" he grunted. "M'close, I'm so close, babe..."

You were way too proud of that; it wasn't much of an accomplishment or anything, you heard that guys come pretty easy and in your experience so far it was mostly true. But you felt good, you liked knowing he was going to come because of you, you liked hearing that composure falter for even just a second— and, if nothing else, you were looking forward to taking a fucking breather, because you needed it.

"God, no fuckin' way I'm pulling out," he laughed thinly, "s'too good, babe— I'm gonna come inside, you ready, honey?"

You nodded, as best you could, and heard his own moans get higher in pitch slowly until they stopped all at once and you felt it, warmth filling you and just slightly soothing the ache inside you. He gave you a few shallow thrusts, sudden and seemingly involuntarily like a twitch, and dropped his hand from your mouth with a sigh. You gasped, hearing the hint of a moan on each of your breaths even though it was over now; he pulled out and fell back on the seats dramatically, resting his hand on his forehead like a maiden in an old-timey movie about to faint. You couldn't help but giggle, impressed that he could keep up his theatrics at a time like this.

"Oh, shit," he whimpered, "you really took it all out of me. Literally. Jesus. Y-you're on the pill, though, right? Cause I can buy you something—"

"S'fine," you croaked, clearing your throat when you heard how broken your voice sounded. "Yeah, don't worry about it."

"'Don't worry about it,' she says," he narrated while he raised an eyebrow, "yeah, that's not ominous at all— nine months later you're knockin' on my trailer door with your curly-headed new mini-me and a whole lot of questions—"

"Shut up," you laughed, rolling your eyes. You adjusted your panties to hopefully catch some of the mess before you left a puddle on the seats, then pulled your uniform skirt back down and finally leaned back with a long sigh. The radio was on— you forgot about that— and you heard Black Sabbath mixing in with the sounds of Eddie's belt jingling while he got himself back into his jeans.

"Our babies would be cute, though," he grinned.

"Okay, actually shut up," you frowned, smacking him on the thigh. "I should go— the team's probably wondering where I am—"

"Oh, no no no," he chided, "you're not getting away that easy."

He yanked you down quickly and wrapped his arms around you.

"You owe me at least three minutes of cuddling," he demanded.

"Eddie, I—"

He grabbed your head and pulled it down into his chest, stroking your thoroughly-mussed hair. "Shh, shh," he interrupted you, "get comfy, I'm not letting you leave for a while— feel free to fall asleep, whatever, it'll be cute."

"This is so not how I thought this was gonna go tonight," you grumbled.

"What, you thought we'd smoke up and call it a night?" he wondered. "So did I, but you were givin' me those eyes—"

"No, I mean— what?!" you squawked. "Eyes?! I was not giving you eyes."

"Uh, yes you were, missy!" he insisted. "You were all, Eddie, make love to me, I need you," he imitated a smoky-sensual voice.

"That's what you call 'making love'?" you snorted. "I'd hate to see you fucking. Gonna put a girl in the ICU."

"Oh, babe," he grinned, looking down at you, and you looked up at him from his shoulder expectantly, "I'm just getting started."

(part 2)

Worthy of Heaven

pairing:  Priest!Ari Levinson x Reader

concept: Every fold, every secret, every deliciously sinful and divinely beautiful innocence created in his image. 

word count: 1.9k

warnings: Dark themes, Priest kink, poetic religious themes (catholic), blasphemy, dom!Ari, innocence kink, soft dub-con, reader needs sins forgiven, desire, fingering, exhibition kink, manipulation, age gap (reader is over 20s and Ari is a hottie), lust, rough sex, smut on a church pew, confession room, and church,p in v smut, oral (f receiving) (m mention daydream), body worshipping, explicit content/language, nickname= angel This is not canon Ari - this au he is Catholic

a/n:  It's inspired by @bucky-barnes-diaries Priest Bucky and I wanted to give it my own take for my own love Ari Levinson. Holding hands in heaven and hell. Check out her Priest!Bucky au

I would like to thank @geminixevans-stan for helping me brainstorm and bring Priest! Ari to life in our Tumblr gardens.

lovely betas: @beach-daydreaming and @s-tarksintern

Line dividers: @/s-tarksintern

Masterlist

The confession ripped my soul apart, and I wasn't sure I deserved forgiveness. 

“Confessing my sins, Father” 

Suddenly your mouth becomes dry as you swallow again. Your heart races and you realize the booth's walls are too close. You have to flee, not the cube, but whatever is keeping the rest of you bottled up and ready to froth out. 

The weight of his stare made you shudder even through the screen. 

You give him your fear.

"Does the thought tempt you?" he inquired softly. "Have you ever wished that you could touch yourself?" 

"Yes," your voice echoes in the darkness. 

"Tell me, angel." 

He begs you to speak, but you lose your breath to lust. You pray that you will not lust, and you even tell yourself that you are innocent. 

Father Ari dropped his sapphire eyes to meet yours, you stopped breathing as you were enticed into his grasp, your body willingly moving towards him as if under the sway of the devil himself, his tight grip tingling your skin. 

The sinner he carries within him awoke so softly and effortlessly, so gracefully, and so holy, that the erection bursting through his trousers defiled you with dark desires. You submit yourself to him. His intentions are good, and yours are too. Still, you perform together. 

Walking away before it could continue, even though you know you should stop, not least because the divine one might catch you at any moment. Despite the fact that it was so dangerous and risky, you felt at peace. 

Intoxicated with the burning pain of him sliding against your clit and his mouth on you, you clench your hands around his hair and start shifting your hips. 

“Stay silent, Angel, don't want to get caught, do you?” You started riding him, he bit you on your neck roughly and groaned. "I'm going to have to discipline you." His hips thrust as he tried to keep up with you. 

It is because he is the one who cleanses you of your sins. 

It was as if your soft sounds, your little moans, pulled him deeper inside, just like the swell and the throb in his cock. Your innocence kept luring him in, and he craved it eagerly. To be his trust, he wanted to burrow himself deep within you, to grasp every part of you. You might be saved by a few more thrusts. 

He is your lust of the flesh. 

Because of your temptation, it is difficult for you to tell the truth to a man and a priest. Your temptation is him. Your desire for him was sinful. You committed the sin through wanting him. Hence, you are no angel, but a fallen angel

As you lay on your back in the pew of the church, looking up at the ceiling, you can see the painting of the church, clouds in the sky, and the bright light shining through the windows. It is the second act of your sins, and he is making you aware. 

The man is motionless, almost extraterrestrial. He is self-assured, without any flinching or awkwardness.  The embodiment of the solid marble statues of saints adorning the parish grounds. Unless, of course, it was bowing before a crucifix or an altar. His gaze is always on everyone. 

At this very moment, his gaze was focused on you. 

In particular, between your legs. Kneeling down, he presses a kiss across your thigh, inching his way up. 

His expectations were exceeded by your stunning beauty. The curves of hell. Femininity roars. 

He wrapped his arms around you, halting your breath. 

Father Ari is savoring the forbidden fruit and taking a taste for himself. 

Abandoned fruit kissed by an angel melted reality. 

Despite his desire to tease you, it was more torture for him as he longed to finally run his tongue along your forbidden folds. He glanced up your body once more before burying his face into your pussy, sensing no resistance from you.

The chants on his tongue buried his face in a new temptation.

Your hands grasped tightly onto his hair, and you could feel his beard awaken the demon of pleasures of the forbidden fruits in your eyes. 

Every fold, every secret, every deliciously sinful and divinely beautiful innocence created in His image. 

Your dress fell down from your right shoulder, revealing your breasts as you were pressed against the stained window. One hand was under your dress and the other one was between your legs, pressing deeply into your body. 

With each thrust, he grunted and growled, you didn't care that your sins were visible to not just the Holy Spirit but also to the parishioners congregating outside the church after the service. 

You breathed a silent thank you to him for locking the heavy wooden doors once the last of his congregation left the church.

You must lock away your sins of lust and sin in order to avoid them. Priest Ari created the sins, but you savored each act of lust he poured into your body and soul. 

Your ragged breath spread clouds upon the colorful glass as you gasped. 

True beauty can only be appreciated if there is light coming in. Behind the window, the light sings praises to pleasure, giving way to a rainbow of colors on the other side of the glass. 

You have lost your soul, but he is restoring your light within your soul through the demon of a man who wants nothing more than for you to groan his name. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he bit down on your neck. The thrusts of his long fingers made your body tremble, your heart pound, and you let out small songs without realizing it. 

You were engulfed by pleasure. Your climax ignited your body. He covered your mouth with his other hand as you glorified and sang his name. 

He rubbed you through your orgasm, prolonging the pleasurable sin.

His lips brushed against your skin, he sinking his teeth into your flesh hard enough to leave a devil's mark.

His mark, the sinner from whom he will cleanse every moan. 

Tempted by his lusts and betrayed by your need, you instinctively aspire to sin. 

Father Ari poured sensuous kisses over every curve of your flesh, taking in every curve of your sensual swelling, he continued to finger you while ferociously exploring your body. As he tightened his arms around you, you could feel your legs shaking and threatening to give away.

He smirked and accelerated his pace as he stared at the ceiling. 

“Dear-oh my go--,” you praised out, the unrelenting pace becoming too much and too overwhelming. 

During this act of pleasure, you believed it to be sinless, and that Father Ari would cleanse you of your sins in no time.

The more vivid the vision, the more you want him to keep going. 

Your body ached, curved, and was drenched. It embraced him.

“Forgive each moan, let our echoes cleanse you” Father Ari growled, his mouth trailing down your neck and onto your exposed shoulder as his hand caressed your breast. 

You did not want him to stop, but to change his rhythm or to move his finger closer to your clit. Another orgasm crashed down on you like a tsunami before you could even speak, as your whole body tensed against him. It felt as if your body was on fire and you couldn't move. You could only hear his grunts as the thick fingers of his holiness continued to pump your sensitive walls. 

Feeling worthy of heaven, inspiration inspired by the art itself. 

The smug grin on his face lit up as he kissed your neck and shoulder, his fingers now playing with your nipple. His pace slowed as your body began to relieve itself. The tip of his nose trailed up your neck and shoulder as he sang sweet hymns to you.  "I could listen to you for hours, angel". 

You finally began to sing praises, as your body numbed and he held it upright so you could finally come down from the high he delivered with the same amount of confidence as in his sermons.

Taking his hand away from your mouth, he continued to make achingly slow circles of pressure on your oversensitive bud as he leaned your head back to give you soft angelic kisses. 

A deep thrill flowed with each kiss of illicit attention.

You moaned into his hands as your hands pressed flat against the colorful stained glass. It is in the hands of a holy man who is doing unholy acts in the church. 

His length and speed stretched you to your limits, entangling you in an almost grueling manner. 

Father Ari began murmuring against your neck. "I'm taking you to Hell with me, Angel." The fire colors of pleasure began to show as you bit into his hand. "My demonic angel, aren't you?"

As a sinner and as a saint 

"Together, we will reach the gates."

You gasped for air, for a new beginning, he removed his hand from your mouth.

“Yes, Father.” 

You moaned, your head relaxing against his shoulder as you stared at him. 

“Damn right we will.” He groaned as the hand that had been covering your mouth began to rub your clit. “Lord, take me and my angel”

Your lessons have to be taught by him. Do as a good disciple would do. It was his desire to guide you to become a magnificent singer and human being of the church. 

You looked into his eyes, trying to find something beneath the cold and calculating pride shining from him.

He caressed your cheek. He rubbed his thumb over your soft lips as your mouth divided in a breathless sigh. You felt as if you had experienced the blessing of an angel. 

"Let's sin, my Angel," he whispered. "In that beautiful darkness, we will both be healed." 

Let's just be skin to skin and let the sin go where it belongs. 

Forgiveness is here in his house. You get down on your knees so that you can be forgiven and restored to his prayer.

“Show me your sins, Angel.”

You didn't reach for your rosary, but for his.

vet akaashi / zoo keeper bo 🦜 (old) sketch 😅

All It Takes Is A Sick Day

Word Count:  549

Warnings:  mentions of smut/protected sex. 

“Christopher. Robert.  Evans.” He knew that tone.  He knew it well.  He’d been hearing it all morning as he ignored your instructions, having meetings with A Starting Point contributors as well as his manager in select times when he knew you’d otherwise be preoccupied, “CHRISTOPHER!” 

“One minute, baby,” he begged softly, not looking back at you.  He heard your foot begin to tap and he felt the nervousness rise in his stomach.  Or maybe it was the toast he’d forced himself to eat.  He wasn’t entirely sure as he focused on his computer to finish typing up yet another email, “before you say anything, I can explain.”

Chris looked nervously back over his shoulder to where you stood, your arms crossed over your small, but noticeable baby bump.  He couldn’t help but shift his gaze and stare lovingly at it, even through his overheated and dehydrated haze, “Christopher…eyes up here.  The baby is not helping you out on this one.”

“I’m not working.”

“That’s not what it looks like,” you smirked, taking a few steps towards him.  He swallowed, watching you lean forward and look at what was up on his laptop.  There were numerous emails open, all detailing meetings he was scheduling and projects that he wanted to start.  He looked at you guiltily and you sighed, taking his face in your hands.  Chris smiled when he felt the cool metal of your engagement ring against his flushed skin, “Chris…you’re overheating.  Your brain is probably melting.  Get back into bed, baby.  I’ll bring you some soup and a cold compress.”

“I have to get this done.”

“I already told your contributors that you’re sick.  They’re all adults that can handle themselves.  Now stop micromanaging and get into our bed before I drag you there myself,” you warned, “I have superhuman strength now that I’m pregnant…remember.”

“I’d like to see you try!”

“Or I can just do this…” you smiled, teasing your top off your body.  Chris’ breath hitched as you tossed the top at him.  He stared at your breasts, full and heavy, begging for him to latch on, “come back to bed…I’ll be there…”

You turned around and right before you left his office you stripped yourself of your sleep shorts. 

“M-maybe I can take one sick day,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “c-can we grab a shower first? I feel gross…and I think you’re right, I’m overheating.”

“You come back to our room, and I’ll give you whatever you want!” you called from down the hall. 

“The flavored condoms?”

“CHRISTOPHER ROBERT EVANS, YOU’RE NOT FUCKING ME WITH A FLAVORED CONDOM THEN EATING ME OUT!  IT WON’T TASTE LIKE AN ICE CREAM SUNDAE.  YOU’RE SICK.  YOU CAN’T EVEN TASTE ANYTHING ANYWAYS!”

He frowned looking at his computer before shutting the monitor off.  Dodger’s head raised from his position at Chris’ side and Chris smiled at him, patting his head, “think you can hold the fort down without me?”

Dodger got up and walked out of the room heading off in the opposite direction that you had, and Chris stood up, heading towards the master, “you said anything.  This is anything! I want that!”

“Fine!” she huffed, “but only if you’re in here in the next ten seconds.”

And Chris ran to the master bedroom.

— 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒍.

preface. —

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