I'm going to be reopening my ask box and taking requests for the summer! I'm also going to tackle a lot of the old requests I have in my inbox that have been gathering dust.
Now that school is over for me and I have free time as well as a new job that lets me write on the clock.
I'm also rewatching aot so go nuts with the Erwin requests. Furthermore, I'm trying to work on an actual book based on my John Ward fic that I will give updates on.
Sorry this one took so long! I've been so busy with holidays and work that I didn't have a lot of writing time, and I took my sweet time writing this one because I wasn't ready to let it go yet (if that makes any sense). I did so much research while writing this series that I almost converted; jk but it's definitely accurately sacrilegious.
Anyway, happy Easter!
CW: SMUT, hierophillia, premeture ejaculation, oral sex (m receiving), masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mild degradation
"Just one more." He sweetly lies against your lips so you'll kiss him again, making you giggle as he leans in just after you pull away.
With his heart beating like a drum, practically ready to burst out from underneath his cassock, John pauses to listen for anyone that could be outside. The little chapel had once again become a sanctuary for sin, a place where he could hide his transgressions from the church and the world over and over for as long as he could get away with.
"Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" You tease as the organ begins to play.
John doesn't respond right away, he only stares at that all too innocent smile in a desperate attempt to commit it to memory. His feet seem to be stuck to the stone floor and his legs heavy as lead with the unwillingness to step away even to perfom the rituals he had sacrificed his entire life to dutifully perform.
"What's wrong?" You ask, no doubt noticing him drifing away.
"Nothing. Just..." He trails off, he wouldn't spoil this for you, not if he didn't have to "Just one more."
While he presses his lips to yours a final time he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, wishing in the most shameful recesses of his soul that he could carry you out of here and forget every holy thing that acts as a barrier between the him and you.
"John, you better go." You whisper the words that he hates to hear against his lips.
"Father." He corrects you with a gentle squeeze around your waist that makes you smile again.
Only after he silently prays for the strength to walk away can he untangle himself from you and leave the defiled little chapel. Even his prayers have now become reckless and casual, he can hardly grip the rosary or kneel at the alter anymore.
"Yes, I'm sorry. I'll repent; eventually, I promise." He mutters a butchered summary of contrition before donning his vestments and readying for the procession.
It's hard to tell if the temptations that normally plague him night and day are becoming less frequent or that they're so frequent he no longer notices or fears them. The cold righteous finality of divine judgment was now distant and far away and would be a relief compared to the silent secretive earthly judgement of his parishioners that he is now wary of. As he strides up to the altar John is uncomfortably aware of the eyes on his back, practically poking into his skin like needles. A constant anxiety that he will ignore until he simply can't.
Even standing at the podium with an unfelt homliy passing his smiling lips, he knows that he has no right to stand in that most high place. All the eyes of heaven look down and already see his sins yet there is only witness on earth to his trespasses that he is glad to not find in the pews this morning. Though he would hardly notice even if they are with his gaze fixed conspicuously on you, smiling like a schoolboy at his sweetheart when you return the glances.
Until the service is done he watches you with a passion he could hardly remember why he vowed to forsake, waiting patiently to get you alone just one more time. Though with the image in front of him, it was not difficult to find patience, he would gladly watch you smiling and laughing in small talk for hours, and for a moment he believes he will; until someone catches your arm and whisperes something to you. The warm smile he loves fades away like a whisp of smoke before his eyes and is replaced by an expression much colder.
The look in the older womans eyes is worse than his deepest anxieties could have conjured, there's no shock, no confusion, only a righteous fury spoken in whispers. John knows he should step up, that he should sheild you and take the blame on himself, he hates to find relief hiding in the most shameful parts of his soul that it's not him being confronted now. The urge to defend you fights with the instinct to hide and he stands frozen while he loses the opportunity to do either.
When you are finally left alone he sees your bottom lip quiver slightly before you dart out of the sanctuary with your face covered in your hands. Before he can follow the same older woman comes to him, silent, disgusted, she knows what he saw and he's lucky enough to only earn a simple shake of her head as she passes.
After a moment of icey silence in his mind and soul John walks out of the church as fast as his feet will take him, not caring about the attention he can attract or the pain in his leg from a childhood injury that he never remembered but cannot forget. The distance is less than a mile but it feels like a thousand as he drags his body across the sidewalk huffing and panting by the time he arrives at your door, using the last of his breath to call your name.
"Let me in, it's me." He is audibly winded while pounding on the door.
"Go away." You answer coldly on the other side, so close and yet so separate.
"I know what happened, just... just let me in so we can talk about it." He implores you, leaning against the door while he continues to softly beat his fist against the wood.
"Go away!" You repeat, now unable to hide the wavering of your voice that threatens to become a sob.
John stares at the closed door, he almost considers following your order but where would he go if not to you? You who had consumed his thoughts, his life, his very soul. Any repentance from you would be a lie.
Muffled sniffing on the other side beckons to him, and he steels himself preparing for what he needs to do. First he tries the doorknob, jiggling it slightly and finding it locked. A slightly open window catches his attention from the corner of his eye, he limps over and slowly slides it all the way up, stealthily swings his leg over; then catches his cassock on a splinter in the frame. John tumbles to the floor, cursing as he lands on his bad leg making you gasp and run over to him from where you had been sitting.
"John!" You gasp with a variety of emotions from surprise and annoyance. "You fucking idiot what are you doing?"
At first he's shocked at your words, the only unkind thing he had heard you say to him, or even heard you say at all, yet even as the curses leave your mouth you're kneeling down to check on him sighing as you discover he hasn't seriously hurt himself. Minutes later you gasp again ready to break out into what he thinks is a sob but is relived to hear is only laughter.
"I just wanted to check on you, but..." John smiles and begins to laugh along., glad to hear that you're no longer crying.
"I just can't get rid of you can I?" You giggle as he brushes the drying tears off your cheek.
"No, you certainly cannot." He replies with a smile as you nuzzle into the palm of his soft hand and he pulls you into a warm embrace.
For a moment the two of you sit in heavy silence as the weight of what had driven you from the church and John to your side lingers in the air. He almost wishes you won't tell him and that by some miracle it could all be forgotten and that nothing would change and no secrets would be revealed.
"Someone called me a whore today." Your somber confession is mumbled into his shoulder. "I don't know how anyone found out, I mean, we weren't careful but..."
Just like that, harsh reality makes itself known and there are no more lies to hide this sin behind. The eyes of more than just heaven were on the two of you, pretending that this could continue now was futile, no matter how uncomfortable the truth may be.
"I know how." John answers with a heavy heart. "I'm sorry, I should have told you. That night when I was here and we ordered pizza, the delivery driver recognized me. I'm so sorry."
Recounting the event replays it in detail in his mind, the casual greeting on the drivers face slowly melting into shocked confusion and disbelief, John raised his fingers to his lips as he handed over the money with a silent plea in his eyes. Quickly closing the door and making the decision to lie and let you believe this secret was safe for another night.
You lift your head off his shoulder and look at him, he expects anger, sorrow, anything but the understanding that floods your expression. It almost stings more to know that the both of you are so deep in lust and lies that this is no longer a transgression.
"Oh, John, I'm not sure I would have said anything either." You mournfully admit as you sit up and hug your knees to your chest.
"Are we both just selfish?" He asks with a soft defeated chuckle.
"I guess so." You reply with a weak laugh, putting your head on his shoulder again. "Can we try and be honest with each other at least?"
"Of course we can." John replies and wraps his arm around your shoulder. "No more secrets."
There's a brief pause, and a few subtle changes in your expression as he watches you go through the same dilemma he had. The urge to hide and retreat from the world that threatened to take this forbidden comfort away and the acceptance of defeat.
"She told me that if you don't go to bishop by next week then she will." You warn him, with the faintest trace of panic in your voice. "They can't prove we were together can they? I mean it's just a rumor and we didn't even do anything."
"No, they can't prove it, but if the bishop asks I can't lie about what happened either." John explains, trying to comfort you but not withhold the truth again. "It'll be alright, we knew we couldn't keep this up forever, but I'm glad we had this much time together."
You look up at him with a grief in your eyes that he regretted to ever put there, your lips linger inches away with the promise of rekindling the sin that brought you here. His heart races as you sit up straighter and put your hands together with his over his lap.
"If it's really over, I don't care what anyone thinks anymore." Your words make his heart race, he knows what you're about to propose, he knows he doesn't have the strength to resist. "They won't believe that we didn't do it anyway and since it doesn't matter anymore, I don't want to hold back now."
"You know I won't say no if you ask me that." He couldn't deny his weakness, even now the struggle inside him raged.
"John..." Your voice is lower, sweeter, the heat of your breath gently warming his lips. "Just one time?"
With the release of a long held sigh whatever was in him that begged to refuse moments ago fell silent and with a kiss he sealed his fate. His arms wrapped around your waist, slowly at first, then like they were moving on their own pulled your figure tight against his own like a spring loaded trap going off at a fraction speed. The breath left your body with a short gasp before you reached out and held him just as tight.
It was hard to tell if he was just stalling because of his lingering fears, the image of a passersby looking through the window and shouting to stop this degeneracy before it went too far lingered in his mind. The moment he felt your lips hum against his with a muffled moan, he knew he wanted no intervention, not to save his soul; not even to save yours.
"Come to my bedroom." You whisper when you pull away from him, the brazen request making him shiver though he expected it.
"Take me there." He replies without thinking, prompting you to pull him off the ground and lead him down the hall.
If you weren't taking his hand and dragging him along John is sure he wouldn't have be able to move, his legs feel heavy, his head is spinning and he isn't quite sure where he's putting his feet. Before he knows it he's falling on the plush comforter atop your bed and pushing stuffed animals on the floor.
He can hear his heart beating through his entire body, this room that he had been in before was turning like it was trying to throw him out, he fought the sense that he shouldn't be here like he hadn't battled it a thousand times before.
"John?" You call out to him with sweet concern on your face as you no doubt noticed his distress. "Are you okay?"
"Yes." He answered, perhaps too quickly, only to take notice of the feel of your body against his that anchored him in his tempest of emotions. "I am now."
"You know, I thought about having you here like this so many times..." John listened to you whisper almost exactly like you had in his dreams. "I'm not so sure it's real this time."
The implications behind your words, the reminder of how much you had been thinking of him instantly flooded his body with warmth and a need to prove himself, to live up to those fantasies. Just hearing one dirty little thought that ran through your mind was enough to make him hard, to be reminded he was the star of these thoughts nearly made him cum in his pants.
"I'm here, I'm real." He assured you, his voice low and soft as he pulled you down for a heated kiss.
"You feel like a dream." You whisper against his mouth, your hands running down his chest, thumb running over the buttons of his shirt.
"You feel like..." John can't even think of the words, or control his body, his hips twitching and jerking up against yours. "Heaven..."
When you climb up to straddle him his knees are shaking, his whole body aches with the need to touch you, to pull you impossibly closer. His awkward hands fumble with your clothes, trying to remove them but only tugging and pulling blindly. His pants are becoming so tight that he's afraid he'll burst right out of them, every touch and warm breath on his skin makes his cock throb under the stressed fabric more than ever.
"I just can't wait anymore." You tug on his belt and he lets out a moan he just can't hold back, whispering words that drive him insane. "You make me so wet just thinking about it..."
The feeling of your feather light touch so close yet so far is simply too much for him to bear, his hips jerk upaward and they just don't stop. A warmth passes over his body then sticks and spreads though the fabric of his pants followed by a blood freezing chill when he realizes what happened.
"Oh... God! I'm sorry I- I didn't mean to..." He tries to explain while his body is still buzzing and the dark patch on his pants is growing. "I didn't think it... I'm so sorry."
His cheeks are hot and he's trembling in fear of your judgement, the shame and disappointment in himself make it hard for him to meet your gaze until you cup his cheek gently and turn him to face you.
"Hey, it's alright. it happens." You assure him between soft kisses along his face and jaw. "It's okay, really."
"I- It is?" He stammers in disbelief, putting his trembling hands on your waist.
"Of course it is." You repeat the kisses getting gradually more heated as they make a path down his neck. "You know, I think it's kind of hot..."
"You do?" He asks surprised though he really shouldn't be, he let out a sigh of relief remembering how much you constantly want him. "Could you... tell me why?"
He feels your lips curve into a smile against his neck, right above his collar and your warm breath as you whisper. "Well... I like seeing you all flustered, you get so worked up. I know it's bad, but I like knowing I do that to you."
John lets out a low groan, his body responding to your touch like he hadn't just cum in his pants. He pulls his stiff white collar off and hears your soft gasp as you watch him do it, then he slides his hand up the back of your neck and tangles his fingers in your hair as he pulls you back down to latch your mouth to his skin again.
With the first button on his shirt you struggle but the second and third come undone easier, soon your thumb is making quick work of undressing him and your mouth follows the path of newly unveiled flesh. Lips meeting his chest and abdomen like the dawn touches the sky, so natural and confident, subtle at first and then overwhelming.
Eventually you reach his half undone belt, and your mouth lingers over the damp spot on his pants. You look up at him before smiling and running your tongue through the middle of the stain, warming the cooling fluid against his skin and making his cock come to life again.
He feels ashamed again with you so being intimate with his mistake. "You don't have to..."
"I'm just helping you clean up." You reply in that sweet tone that he can never tell if it's genuine or an act. "Just relax, I got you."
He does exactly as you say, though with great reluctance, leaning back a little to ease himself but still keep his eye on you. When you open his belt and slowly pull the zipper on his pants down John is nervous, somehow feeling like this is the very first time you had seen him. He grips the sheets to keep his hands from shaking as you pull his messy and half soft cock out and gently stroke it before touching the dripping tip to your lips.
He notices a brief hesitation when it touches your tongue, not disgust, but he can imagine the taste isn't quite what you expected. The surprise doesn't stop you, and you lick up the length of his cock again and again, feeling it get harder each time. Soon the whole tip is past your sweet lips and then another inch and another.
Now John's thankful for his earlier mishap, if he hadn't cum all over himself before then he certainly would have the moment he felt the slightest touch of your lips, and he wouldn't get to feel the inside of your mouth like never before. He pets your hair and cradles the back of your head tenderly, like he's holding some holy relic.
"You're amazing." He breathes out praises that make your lips squeeze him tighter as you fight a smile. "I mean it, truly, truly, amazing..."
It continues like that for a while, slow steady heaven. John can hardly hear the subtle wet sounds of you touching yourself over his own panting or of your mouth on him, he had hardly notices your hand had left his thigh and drifted under your skirt until you moan around his cock.
"Are you..? Fuck, I can hear how wet you are." He comments, making you hum in agreement and move a little faster.
The rhythm with which you move your head and your hands makes him feel so connected to you, the almost perfect balance where you take your pleasure at the same time; yet not balanced enough as you move faster. The more you moan and take him deeper, the faster your short hot breaths get against his skin, all of it just makes him want to pull you up and slap your hand away so he can touch you.
With a gentle tug on your hair and then a second firmer tug to get your attention and make you open your mouth you pause and release him, wiping your lips as you lift your head.
"What is it? Was it my teeth?" You ask him with wide eyes as you wipe the corners of your mouth.
"No no no, you're perfect- I mean, I..." John can hardly find the words as he pulls you up, his hands want to speak for him so badly. "This, I need to touch you..."
His fingers find the dripping heat between your thighs and slide across your soaked slit, making your knees shake and your hands dig into his shoulders as you stuggle to stay seated in his lap.
The sweat glistening on both your faces makes your foreheads stick as you press them together, warm breath mingling as your lips linger a hairs breadth apart. He tastes every uncontrolled sigh that blends into a moan as he slips one then two fingers inside of you, prompting you to whisper in his ear soflty like you still had to tempt him.
"Your fingers are so big." You tell him with a satisfied grin.
"Tell me how big." He croons in your ear and feels you clench a little tighter.
"They're so much bigger than mine, they fill me up so good..." John smiles at the picture your soft panting paints in his head once again.
Sweet wetness drips down his fingers to his wrist pulling them out quickly only to taste them like an addict before instanly replacing them again. You watch him, groaning like he does as if you could taste what he could, you touch your own wet fingers to his lips and he gladly cleans them off with his tongue.
The swirl of tongues and fingers and wet bodies is so degenerate in his mind and yet his flesh does these depraved acts so naturally, so quickly without even thinking of anything but the next sensation he needs to chase, the next secret place he needs to explore or line he must cross.
"I need you, I need you so bad..." You whisper in a gentle wavering tone, that makes him recognize the shame that fills him is also in you.
There's a hint of trepidation in your eyes as he looks down at you, not for what you're going to do but for a desperation that may not be fulfilled if he walks away. It was a lie when you said you didn't care what anyone thought. The need eating away at your soul and wearing down your conscience made it impossible to pass the opportunity to take him while you had him.
"Tell me one more time." He whispers as he turns to gently lay you down, so eager to give you what you want his hands fumble pulling off your remaining clothes.
"I need you, John." You answer with a heated kiss and help him kick off his pants.
Your legs tangle and your bare bodies become dangerously close as he struggles to position himself in just the right way, guided by your legs wrapping gently around his waist.
"Have you ever..?" You ask him with a minor hesitation blended in desperation, no doubt from the sense of duty to reflect on this grave trespass before it's committed.
"No... Have you?" John has the urge to lie and to maybe appear more masculine but your eyes compel him to answer honestly, then he only asks out of strange habit; your answer would make no difference.
"Never." You tell him with a hint of a smile and a ghost of a laugh that he mimics.
The two of you let out a sigh of relief together, glad to share this first, to give one completely to the other. John touches his forehead to yours and you take his hand and squeeze it firmly in your own, the act seeming to anchor your souls together like a gentle unspoken vow.
A chill runs through his body as he realizes how close he is to crossing that final line, his cock brushes against your warm wet heat, the very point of no return itself. How could he even think of turning away now? How could this be a test when the only answer is yes?
The sweetest sound leaves your lips when he pushes in, low and drawn out, like a fallen angel singing, in sync with the movement of his hips that slowly brings him completely inside of you. So warm, to tight, so unlike anything he had ever felt and yet his body moves, gripping, rocking, slow at first then gaining momentum, like it had always known how.
"It doesn't hurt?" John asks softly, unsure if he could stop himself if the answer was yes.
"No, no, I just feel... full..." Your answer makes his eyes roll back, what he wouldn't give to hear you say that over and over.
John exected something in him to snap, for his chastity to break like a woman's only in his soul, but nothing is broken. In fact anything that was broken in him felt whole.
Any small action from you causes a reaction in his body, likewise your responses to his lightest touches resonate so deeply as if they were his very own. John understood so profoundly now why this act is called becoming one flesh, why it was not good for man to be alone, everything, all of it made so much sense. Nothing this sacred, this designed could ever be a sin, not this, the very first mission of creation.
"Ugnh... John... I'm gonna..." You whimper as you hide your face in his shoulder, letting him feel your warning on his skin.
"I know, I know." He replies in heated kisses behind your ear.
Of course he knew, he knew your body so well, from constantly mapping it in his waking dreams to reliving those stolen moments together every time he was alone. All those telling signs your body, the tensing the twitching, he had known so intimately and now knows from the inside.
"It feels so different... I can't..." You gasp, chest heaving, hands grasping.
"It's okay, I'm here, just let it happen." He coos gently through his own heavy breaths as he shepards you though this.
Every faint signal has become a thousand times more intense, your fingers dig into his skin and your teeth sink into his shoulder, even the pain of these things fade into the glory of sharing your glorious rapture. With the way youre practically squeezing his very soul out he has to fight with strength he never knew he had just to not lose himself a second time.
"Ungh- John! John!" You call for him as the sensation overwhelms you.
"Yes! Oh, that's it, you feel so good." He hardly recognizes his voice as he answers softly coaxing you down from your peak as his hips roll in slower fluid motions.
The warmth, the wetness, the tightness, the hundreds of little feelings you gave him constantly, every one of them mounted into the most spectacular peak. The tight grip you have on him loosens slowly as your moans become continuously softer and lower.
He props himself up just to get a better look at you, at how your hair stuck to your sweaty skin and your eyes squeezed shut then opened with a glazed expression of divine bliss. Your body glistening in the low light and soft curves molding around his body, legs spread open so wide and givinf him the perfect view of his cock disappearing inside you.
"God, you're amazing." He swears, though you hardly seem to hear him.
"John?" You moan softly and look up at him with the sweetness he can't help falling in love with over and over.
"What is it?" He asks with a hint of concern, slowing down. "Is it too much?"
"Yeah, but... I want more..." You whisper breathlessly, your grip tightens again.
John can hardly believe what he's hearing, his whole body aches with the need to drive into you again, harder this time, and harder and harder until you're satisfied. His heart pounds as he firmly grasps your hips, pulling out momentarily only to flip you over.
Your whine for him nearly breaks his heart, loathe to be empty even for a second as he turns you around. Thankfully soon to follow is a deep groan of gratification as he pushes in from behind, filling you up from a new angle that makes you twist your fists into the sheets.
"I'll give it to you, I'll give you everything." He vows as he sucks in a deep breath and leans over your back until the damp skin of his chest is sticking to it.
He watches with a grin as you claw at the covers and thrash about like a woman possessed, languishing in pride at the way he, and only he, could make you act with just the slightest change of position.
"You know, I could never tell, if I corrupted you... ugh... or if you you we're always like this..." He begins to think aloud, the only sign that you notice him is the slopping wet sounds in the room getting more pronounced.
"John! Oh, fuck... John..." You pant as he begins to move, every word you try to reply with getting swallowed up my a moan.
"You were always like this, weren't you?" He breaths the accusation into your ear as he thrusts faster and faster. "I didn't have to do anything, you just thought about this all the time didn't you?"
"Yes! God, yes!" Your admission is muffled into the sheets as you bury your red face in shame and overwhelming pleasure. "I want it so bad!"
"You know just what you do to me, oh you're such a wicked, wicked girl." He purrs in a voice that hardly seems like his own. "You're sending me straight to hell and I love you for it."
Your eyes widen for an instant at that single phrase, your self control coming back for a moment even though John can feel the pleasure taking over your body again. You push up onto your elbows, reaching around your back to guide his head closer so your lips can touch his ear.
"I love you." You whisper low and honest, so unlike the heated filth he had said to you.
Before he can even decide to let go, John is sent helplessly tumbling over the edge, his orgasm takes him so suddenly that he barely has time to warn you.
"I can't... I can't hold on much longer..." He groans into your shoulder before sinking his teeth into your skin in the habit of muffling his moans.
"Do it, fill me up, John." As soon as you give the command he follows it.
He can feel every hot spurt of cum releasing deep inside you, hot, hard, fast, and how every thrust drove it deeper and deeper. Your core squeezing around him in quick tight pulses that made his eyes roll back into his head and low bass toned noises leave his mouth that he never kmew he could make.
A surge of adrenaline ran through him, something like panic mixed with every other emotion overwhelms his senses and he clings to you like a lifeline until it washes over him. Cumming inside you is so different, even after he's spent his hips are still moving on there mission and you're still moaning and taking it, he doesn't know when he'll stop, if ever. His lips keep mouthing your name like a prayer as he holds you tighter and tighter, unable to worry about squeezing you too hard.
The tension finally snaps and he collapses over you, his weight forcing a small groan of protest out of you until he rolls off onto his side, slipping out of you as he falls onto the bed. He can't make sense of where he is. God help him, he doesn't want to. He is lost, so blissfully lost and his only anchor is found when he reaches out to pull your body closer to his.
Instinctively your lips find his again in the haze, the taste and the smell and the feel of you wash over him like waves on the shore. He moves to kiss over the wounds his teeth had left on your skin and brush over the bruises while you whisper words of devotion too slurred to make sense of but too deeply felt not to immediately understand until you both fall apart in exhaustion, just waiting for the clarity to return.
As he laid in the great stillness he finally feels like something in him had changed, while it was a much different action that he had no experience with John couldn't help but think this is what it felt like to kill a man. Maybe he had killed the man he had once been.
He turns his head to the side meeting your gaze as you watched him, and he smiled at the unwavering focus fixed on him.
"What?" He asked with a soft nervous chuckle.
"Nothing." You reply, returning the smile. "Just wondering what you're thinking about."
He laughs a little louder, knowing there would be no way to explain this derailed train of thought; but there was no need. Every thought and feeling was connected to you now, nothing was separate anymore, nothing was alone.
He answers truthfully. "I was just thinking of how I never want to leave."
memes are fun and relatable and all that, but don't let them discourage you. all of that stuff that doesn't make it into the final product is part of how the final product gets made
