Apr 19
thunder cloud rainstorm kissing scene bl series ^_^ ok guys im back i think
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Switzerland
seen from Estonia
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from Switzerland
seen from China
thunder cloud rainstorm kissing scene bl series ^_^ ok guys im back i think
Scarlet Secret | 秘め婿
───𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐮𝐦!
𓂃⋆˚𐙚 hide and seek with pyo guwon gone wrong!?
˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. tws! : mdni. nsfw. dubcon, sex in the closet, horny fuck, huge? size difference, some begging, needy guwon, desperate guwon, nasty guwon, marathon sex, unhinged sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cervix fucking, belly bulge mentions, light cumflamation ig, big dick guwon, brief mention of squirting, nasty orgasms, guwon thinks with his big dick, brief dirty talking (idk), getting caught?, etc.
"...three, two, one! ready or not, I'm coming!"
the high pitched, feminine giggle—loud and hearty and drunk—sounds in the far most end of the hallway, miles away from your hiding spot.
the sound of hurried, child-like pads of the feet thump against the wooden floor, barely reaching your flushed hot ears through the crack in the old wooden almirah.
if it weren't for the strong, giant pair of hands groping at your soft and trembling body, you would've noticed the nearing and passing of the hurried footsteps.
"g-guwo—" his name barely leaves your swollen lips, still slick and sensitive from his prior assault. a gasp tumbles from your lips. hushed and stuttered as your hand shoots down to stop his. "n-not now! h-eewon might c-come for us—"
"no, baby."
his voice is clear as a day. deep and gravelly. desperate. yet barely able to remain low and quiet. "need you. y-you feel so good, gotta taste you now—"
the need in his voice is palpable. so is the case with his hands as they hastily undo your jeans' button despite your feeble attempts to stop him. mind clouded with need and desperation as his hand swiftly shoves itself in your panties.
guwon whines. whines at the feeling of your slippery and sticky slick coating his fingers as he moves them to and fro between your puffy folds. fingers swooping in and nudging your tight entrance before coming back up to feel your throbbing, hot clit.
his fingers slide in. long and thick digits eager and needy to feel your tight heat engulfing them as he rams his digits inside your pussy.
his hips move needily. press forward against yours. grind. his cock—as hot and long and hard and thick as ever—bulges against your bottom. the swell pressing and grinding between your asscheeks hotly.
your eyes roll to the back of your head. long nails sink in his taut forearm. drool dribbles past the gap between your fingers through the palm you've placed over your mouth to muffle your sounds.
guwon moans. whimpers. teeth glinting as he nips at your nape. tall and broad frame hunched over your smaller one in the confined almirah. breaths hot and ragged and mingling in the dark as his strong frame cages yours.
you should've known better. known better than to give in to his puppy eyes earlier. known better than to let him in your hiding spot. to let him slide behind you. cage you in his suffocating arms. place his lips on your neck, then your cheeks, and then your lips.
maybe if you knew better, you wouldn't be here—trapped and caged in by your six feet eight inches something or over boyfriend. with his big hands keeping your small back flushed to his chest and unmoving. sweat soaking through his dark vest to your croptop.
you moan. shudder. pussy hot and wet and dripping around his thick and long digits as you clench in unwanted(?) anticipation. hole just as eager as his fingers as it sucks him in eagerly. drooling around him.
guwon's free hand—twitchy and sweaty over your waist—moves up the expanse of your soft belly. under your top. gropes at your braless boob and squeezes. fondles. pinches your already hard nipple.
"baby—" his whine sounds at your ear as he pants against it. breath hot and harsh. his tongue—thick and long like his fingers—laps at your sensitive skin. slobbers up your hot ear in his saliva. "I can't—you feel so good, need more—"
you don't even get the chance to register his fingers slipping out of your clenching heat and leaving you. through the haze of sensations and the hushed, muffled chatter outside, you hear the clink of his belt. the sound of his zipper going down with the rustling of clothes.
and then, you finally feel it. hot and hard. thick and throbbing. long and leaking at the bottom of your back. his cock pulses. leaking thick and sticky ropes of pre down the crack between your ass to your pulsing clit. sticky trails glistening against your sweaty skin in the dark, closed space.
even the overwhelming, blissful sensation of his insanely big meat shaft against your hot skin doesn't last long. because one second, it's pressed to your back. and the next, his way too eager and desperate hand is hurriedly guiding his leaking tip to your drenched slit.
one missed press. cockhead slipping through your swollen folds and bumping your clit. two. three.
the next time guwon slides, you cry. scream into the palm of your hand that is pressed to your lips between your face and the closet wall. because oh god, no way in hell he barged in all of him at once, in a single ram—
"guwon— oh my god—"
he doesn't even give you the time to breath. to cry. to adjust. to get used to his massive meat rod snuggled all the way up to your womb with his cockhead french kissing your poor cervix. the same cervix that refuses to let in the last of his inches because it'll tear.
"fuck—baby, so good oh my— your pussy feels so good! I'm gonna cu—"
he cries. clings to your waist. squeezes you tight to his chest. shoves and tangles his long and thick fingers through your delicate ones pressed to the wood.
his hips don't wait. they move then. too mean. too cruel. too eager. too desperate. too uncoordinated as they swing and slam to your cheeks that jiggle with each mean thrust. that redden with each harsh slam of his pelvis against your bottom.
the almirah doors rattle. the entire furniture shakes with his animalistic pace. his intensity shaking the very space to its core as your vision swims. unfocused. lost. dazed with blissful sensations and overwhelming pleasure.
guwon ruts. moans. slams. grunts. teeth sinking into your shoulder that now bears a bunch of his teeth marks. crimson and sensitive. he slams into you over and over and over again. massive cock filling up your poor pussy to the hilt where it struggles to keep up anymore.
his cockhead pokes your cervix repeatedly. ramming through your narrow, hot and wet and dripping channel that slobbers him up to no end. your belly bulges with the imprint of his cock moving in and out. in and out. outlining your belly up and above your navel as your belly flutters.
"so good, so good—you were made for me, baby! all for me! this pussy was destined to be mine—"
he is insane. feral. gone. lost into the abyss of your cruelly pleasure inflicting pussy that sucks him in as eagerly as he feeds it his cock. your chest now pressed and smashed to the wooden wall of the almirah that shakes up and down and to and fro with the swing of his mean hips.
you swear the almirah tumbles. shakes violently. tilts to the verge of falling over but bumps and ceases thanks to the wall next to it.
the heat that floods to your cheeks two times stronger than the last has you whining. pussy squeezing so tight, borderline suffocating his cock as you swear you just squirted. the small puddle of clear, hot yellow that trickles and drops below proof to your doing.
"f-fuck—no more! gonna cum—oh god, I'm gonna cum—"
you don't get to utter anything more. because your pussy completes it all for you.
your hand shoves itself between your legs before you catch yourself. fingers trembling and all too desperate for relief as they swipe and rapidly curl and rub at your swollen clit. digits frantic and feral as they rub and twist and curl furiously. uncontrollably.
and then, you're cumming. gushing all over his still ramming dick as you squirt and cum harder than ever. your cum splatters all over your thighs and his. drenches your half hanging jeans and his trousers. yet that filthy, nasty orgasm only works to heat you up more. to make you moan and whimper just a bit louder. to make you shudder harder.
guwon doesn't stop tho. he won't. he can't. not after how your pussy creamed him up so good. drenched him so good. made him feel so good. so ecstatic. so heavenly.
"fuck—that's my girl. so good for me, baby—so pretty. I'm gonna cum now, take my cum deep in this pussy, yeah? keep it all in there until I've stuffed you full—"
he's blabbering. spitting out whatever that comes to his dirty mind. and he doesn't even know it. because right now, all his focus and attention is on your pussy. on the way his cock pulses and throbs inside you so good. on the way your snug walls clench him so good. as if begging for his cum. for him to fill it up.
and who is he to deny?
and so, his palm catches the side of your waist. holds you there, snug to his pelvis. rams as deep and hard inside you as possible. pumps as fast and furious as possible. forces his pelvis flush to your ass.
and then, he's cumming. harder and deeper than he ever has before. so deep you swear you feel your tummy bulge out as he fills up your greedy womb with his nasty, delicious, creamy cum.
thick and long, sticky ropes of cum paint your womb. your walls. pulsing and squeezing as they're painted in delicious white like icing on a cake.
you don't even hear it. too lost in the heat and daze of the post moment. guwon's large hand turning your head back to fuse his lips to yours in a sloppy makeout. tongues tangling and swirling against each other's as his hands fondle your boobs and slightly swollen belly. too lost in each other to notice the click of the door handle.
you don't hear it. neither does he. as his hips twitch. grind to yours. earning your muffled moan as he drools in your mouth. makes you swallow his spit. makes your face heated and red as he presses into you more.
just as his hand slides down between your legs to collect his seed that dared to drip out while his other hand pinches your nipple, you don't get even a second to whimper as the wooden door of the almirah swings open with a bang! to welcome strong rays of the bright light into the no longer dark space.
and you're faced with none other than the grinning ear to ear heewon, drunk out of her mind and yet, standing before you in all her denner glory with the brightest, drunkest glow on her flushed face.
"found you two!"
✧ might make this a series if it gains enough popularity...
© sukugospookie ! plagiarism, translating, reposting and feeding my work to ai without (my) consent are strictly prohibited.
• reblogs and comments are whole-heartedly appreciated!
• header taken from the original manhwa!
© dividers by diva pookies! <3 : @chrisssiren || @anitalenia || @strangergraphics || @cursed-carmine ♡♡
© character used in this fic rightfully belongs to manhwaga 945 ! check out their The Hounds of Sisyphus manhwa now!
Ohh this line🐣🐣🐣~
lezhin 😩 🫶
𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐘 | yan!priest x male!reader | nsfw
WARNINGS: extremely dubious consent, graphic and explicit smut. please do not read if you are not comfortable, or if you are triggered. In no way is this disgusting yandere behavior meant to be romanticised. This excerpt is taken from my fic on wattpad, twisted faith.
PAIRING: yandere!priest x male reader
SCENARIO: after one too many attempts of rebelling against him, the priest (anton) decides to punish you.
WORD COUNT: 4.2k
You knew. You knew the minute you were brought to Anton's home — you knew the minute you were washed and fed by several maids, and was brought right before the priest.
A sickening part of you knew.
You had always wondered when. When Anton's obvious desire for you would finally break, when the final straw would be until Anton would take you
And now you stood right before him, washed—your hair still a little damp—robed, trembling.
Shit. It was about to happen. It was about to happen. It was—
You didn't know what to do. You were utterly terrified, utterly helpless.
"To first cleanse your sins," Father Anton said quietly—his hands resting on your back, tracing circles, "you must purify the body." The motion was smooth, gentle, supposed to be comforting, but instead all you felt was an unwanted heat traveling up your spine, along with deep seated dread. Thick, sludgy dread.
This was part of the plan, you thought, swallowing. This is part of my plan.
Someone had already warned you, had they not? That with the priest, he was looking for something else with you. Something deeper. Something akin to lust, akin to desire.
"Yes, Father Anton..." you whispered. You wanted to close your eyes, but you feared the consequences that came with it. Instead, your own trembling (e/c) eyes were forced to stare at pools of liquid diamond—the color that belonged to the priest's eyes.
"You want this, don't you?" Anton purred, "you want this. You admitted it yourself. You needed purifying. And now I shall give it to you. Everything. I will purify your heart, your soul, your body..."
First, your shoulder. You found breaths shallow and quiet when Anton used one finger to slowly undo your clothes, starting from a simple slip of the shoulder, until your collar bone was exposed.
Exposed, for the priest to see.
You no longer felt like it was you. Your mind was growing hazy, your body was responding to Anton's touch in such a way that you were horrified by it. You could feel his own unwanted arousal slowly burning your insides, and before you knew it, you were pressed down onto the cool sheets of the bed, stripped of your clothes—Adam and Eve once roamed the Garden of Eden in their naked form freely, you recalled, before the serpent made them sin.
Was this what Anton meant? To return to the roots of mankind, before sin had existed?
It wasn't long before the priest started to undress himself, and you nearly wanted to kill yourself there and then when you saw just how—just how huge Anton was—because fuck, how the hell were you supposed to fit him inside?
You watched as Anton dipped his fingers in sweetly scented oil—perhaps even the liquid from a while back, in the confessions room—and coated it liberally on his own cock. The oil was costly, but perhaps, to Anton, there was no better purpose than to anoint one of heaven's own.
Fuck, you started to breathe heavily, feeling Anton's hands slowly grasping at your hips, his touch bruising, and lining his arousal up—you could feel it. Every inch of him.
Deep breaths. In and out...
"Ugh—" you let out a soft sound that was quickly muffled when you pressed your face down onto the pillow, ears burning with shame.
There was no greater pain and pleasure than this.
Anton pushed forward ruthlessly into your body. Anton did not stretch you out or give you advance warning. If the initial intrusion was painful, it was meant to be, as part of your penance.
"Cleansing," Anton purred, his voice sending shudders running down your spine, "punishment. This, my dear Y/n, is divine punishment."
Fuck, you teared up as you gripped the sheets, yes. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps this was an atonement of your sins, your crimes towards your own humanity. Perhaps you deserved this for spitting such cruel, careless words at your sister, for showing his weaknesses so blindly to your friend...
"Anton," you gasped out, the delicate flesh of your insides was battered and pried open by Anton's enormous girth, "I—I..."
Anton pressed into the hilt and then stopped, giving you time to adjust, and enjoying the trembling shudders of the bruised and violated muscles clenching around him.
"Give it all to me, turn everything over to the Lord and let me purge the sin from your flesh. Let me morph you; Y/n; let me purify you.”
"Slower," you begged him, tears starting to roll down your cheeks. You felt so utterly helpless—so pained, yet there was that deceitful pleasure crawling up in your insides, telling you this was what you wanted. This was what you asked for.
In a way, it was. In a viscerally twisted and distorted way...yes. You had planned this, did you not? You had orchestrated this plan to seduce the priest for your own survival, and you would fall down into the abyss with it.
There was no foreplay. Nothing. Nothing that could have told or prepared you of the pain that had shot up in your stomach—nothing that could have told you that you would be throbbing with pleasure, aching with sin. Your body felt filthy instead of pure, and the tears staining your face felt like they were burning. Anton kissed it all away—but that did nothing but to send feverish heat and silent hatred worming into your insides.
"Oh, Y/n," Anton cooed, his fingers trailing every inch of your skin, exploring every curve, every flat, "you were made for me. Made to be a vessel for me. You saved me, Y/n...you saved me."
Anton felt God would forgive the sin of his omission—after all, he was the closest being to godhood, and you were so beautiful and precious and pure. God's creation and the wonders of nature—from your mesmerising eyes, from how the arch of your back highlighted the delicate curve of your spine.
You made a strangled sound, biting back your moan that was about to slip past your lips. The pace remained brutal; relentless, and when you tried to grip on the sheets for some sort of stability to the madness, it failed.
"Confessing," Anton whispered, "is something you were never good at. But perhaps this gives you clarity. Perhaps this will help."
With suddenness, Anton stopped— instead, he pulled out, leaving your walls empty and clenching around for something. Just anything. Anton pressed one finger to the opening, almost like he was teasing you. Teasing you with inviting warmth, but not giving it to you. The priest was the one who reduced you to such a state, so how dare he? After stripping you of your innocence, claiming he would purify you…
You had never hated someone so much before. You hated him.
"C-Confess?" You managed to choke out, voice hoarse, "y-you want me to..."
Anton pressed the finger in deeper. More. You wanted more. It was not enough.
"Confess, yes." Anton tilted his head, his other hand pressed against your shoulder, the touch firm and gentle. It was strange how he seemed to treat you like you were so precious, like you were made of glass, but then his actions would contradict and you would feel the lower part of your body searing with deep, hot pain.
Blood. You could feel it trickle down your leg.
Anton waited until your breathless pants slowed and then spoke, "You may begin."
Your voice was thick with tears as you spoke, "Bless me father, for I have sinned."
The priest's hips began a slow and steady pace, pressing in deeply and then pulling out until the head of his cock caught on the thinly stretched rim. It kissed it slowly, slowly pushing until half way inside. You let out a strangled gasp, sobbing.
"Continue."
Oh, but how? You found it hard to find words scattered here and there, when your brain was a mush and you didn't even feel like you were you anymore. You weren’t yourself anymore—you weren’t innocent. Anton had ripped away any last remnants of sanity and purity that you had, claiming it for his own, marking you as a sinner.
Y/n...Y/n...who were you even, now? The feeling of derealization pierced your chest.
Anton's cock looked impossibly large as he pressed it against your gaping hole. It looked like it could split you open. You trembled from the stretch — you wanted more, in a horrible sense, and the only way you could get that was to atone. To confess all your sins to the greatest sinner in the world.
Your stunning (e/c) eyes went wet with tears, but it only made your submission sweeter and it only made the priest's cock throb harder as your body worked to accommodate him; flesh clinging and gripping deliciously as he pushed deeper with each second, but never quite hitting the end.
It was a tease, a long drawn punishment.
Anton's hot gaze dropped so he could watch your belly bulge each time he entered you fully. The evidence of his physical penetration into you— his innocent, innocent savior—only made the dark feelings in his stomach swirl, twist, knot.
"I'm sorry," you found yourself begging, "I'm sorry, Father Anton—I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have—"
I shouldn't have existed.
"I shouldn't have went outside the church walls," You sobbed, "I shouldn't have met anyone else, I shouldn't have—"
"Don't even say that." Anton's voice was serene yet so damned. "What else?"
"I shouldn't have murdered the man." You babbled on like your mind was shattered; broken beyond repair.
"I shouldn't have talked to her—"
You felt another sharp pain crawl up your spine when Anton rammed inside you. The priest's hands went to cover your mouth, stifling your moans that threatened to slip out.
"Ah, no," Anton whispered, his voice sultry and deep, "we can't have you making such noises, can we?"
"Just—just..." You felt the tears roll down your cheek, felt the way your chest heaved and your hips ached — all this felt too much; too overstimulated.
You released; arching your back and feeling your fingers grip on the sheets with reckless abandon. Your thoughts were pounding in your head and so was the slow, subsiding heat: what have I done? You thought with misery, with fuzziness and dazed eyes, what have I done?
Anton smiled and leaned forward.
"You have been purified."
The second time, it was because you had disobeyed him. You ran away — at least, you attempted to. But it had been foolish, and now you had to face the consequences of your actions. You willed your trembling form to straighten, choking down a sob.
“I’m sorry.”
"That's what I thought." Anton smiled in amusement. "Here I was praising you, darling," Anton tipped your chin up and you swallowed, fear started to flood within you. "But it seems that once again my trust in you has been misplaced."
"I'm sorry," you started to say—to beg—"don't put me back there. Don't!"
Fear rotted between your teeth and gave you that toothache feeling: the slow thudding of realization, the slow ache of cavities worming into your insides, staining your mouth. The sweetness had been too much. Too painful.
"I won't."
"...Then..."
What will you do?
"It's been long since you were purified."
Inwardly you shattered once again.
"Slow down," you gasped, feeling Anton's cock enter in, unrelenting, brutal, merciless—you dug your fingers into the expanse of his back, taking it down, causing a soft sigh to elicit from Anton. "Please," your voice took on a begging note. "Please."
Anton paused for a while. His fingers cupped your cheek, and his eyes were almost dazed with pleasure.. But they still held a certain maddening clarity that you were afraid of.
"You wanted this, didn't you?" Anton tilted his head. You felt the cock inside you press further still, your walls squeezing it, your body welcoming it, with pleasure spilling in your gut. Unwanted pleasure. "You wanted this, darling. And so I give it to you."
How long had it been? The tears were running down your face but your body betrayed yourself. For there was your own answering arousal between your legs, the way your hips lifted and responded to Anton's fast, full thrusts, the way moans slipped off your mouth like nothing. You wiggled your body a little, squirming, trying to find a better position—but another ram into you, another buckle of your hips and a sharp cry—stopped you from being able to do so.
"Slower," you repeated once again— begging him, before Anton shoved his fingers down your throat, causing the yoo choke on your words. Saliva coated the priests's fingers but he did not seem to care. Kisses were planted on your bare form—the shoulders, the nose, the lips—Anton seemed satisfied, actually. More than that. Darkness was twisting in his eyes. Anton loved it—loved ravaging your, loved having sex with you. He pulled those fingers out and your mouth felt empty.
"You're doing such a good job," his voice was so gentle, so sweet—you could have cried. Yes, there was the constant pleasure in your body that Anton managed to induce—the kind of pleasure that made you yearn for more, the kind of pleasure that made you moan into the kisses that Anton provided, obscene and all, but oh, it betrayed your mind. "Continue on. You have barely managed to take me yet."
I'm disgusting, you wept, oh, someone save me. I'm so disgusted with myself.
"I can't," you panted, your fists gripping the sheets. "Anton...I really can't."
The only answer was a push that pressed you flush against the bed. Anton's fingers wrapped around your jaw slowly and turned your face to the side, peppering kisses on it. It was a soothing gesture—Anton was marvelous at what he did. He would torture you mentally, sexually, but treat you like porcelain physically, treating you with such tenderness and gentleness at times that you werebdazed by it. And it worked now.
"Good job, darling." Anton cooed, almost relishing in the soft moans that you were desperately trying to keep down your throat. You felt tears roll down your cheeks slowly, you felt the pain down there, swollen and overstimulated. You knew the sheets were stained with your earlier releases, and now would be what, the third? Fourth? Fifth? Anton was brutal in his pace.
How far had you fallen, already?
Behind Anton you could make out through your teary vision, a small cross. And now that cross taunted you. Watched you ws your purity was slipping away from you.
Tears rolled down your cheek, and you felt yourself slipping into darkness.
To feel anything would make you deranged.
After Anton had…purified you — you had scrubbed endlessly at your skin, hoping to remove any memory of him. But with that purification, also came a change of treatment. Anton grew gentler, kinder, and you grew more tired, more willing to be deceived.
Simply put, you didn’t know how to place your rage anymore: there was the rage that was simply rotten, incurable love—there was the rage which were all the tainted truths and desires—and then there was the rage that was like a unanswered prayer, rattling in your mind, ricocheting off the walls.
You had learnt a long time ago that your body betrayed your mind. That your mind betrayed your heart. You feared that you had grown to love Anton, in some sickening, undeniable way: but was that not inevitable? A human will crave fire, though deadly, in the light of cold. And in this case Anton had stripped you of everything you ever had, and now you were craving warmth.
And Anton. He was that very warmth. You wanted his embrace — you wanted it so desperately, the feeling of being loved, cared for, tender and sweet. After all, Anton had never hurt you before, did he? Everything earlier had been some sick farce, some disgusting aversion to all things good. But it was alright. You had learned your lesson.
You needed only Anton, and yet Anton seemed to withhold from sex, like he was dragging it on. You wanted it carnally, biblically. You could feel the sins and evil swarming under the layer of your skin. You wanted it. You wanted to be made pure again, you wanted that sin purged from your flesh. You wanted it eviscerated. You wanted it to be painful, almost.
But as luck had it, Your purification this time was not one of pain. Anton was always tender with you —but the purifications were always painful, rightfully so, as penance.
The sheets were soft and silky, as luxurious as you remembered. It was the same bed that you had laid in during your first time. Oh, how rebellious you had been. How unwilling. But now you are older, wiser. You knew to behave—you knew this was for your greater good.
You have made life miserable for yourself. Why did you bother trying to resist? It had taken coaxing—and you had been so delightfully and wonderfully patient with you. Anton had already been so sweet even when you had been feisty and sharp-tongued, but the priest treated you with honeyed, saccharine sweetness. See, Anton seemed to tell him. See, you should have obeyed me earlier. This way, no one would have died. You could have carved out your own ending.
And now Anton bit at your lip until you could only groan. Supple, strong hands removed whatever clothes you had on— you were kissed until you were lightheaded and breathless, until the only thought that remained was the priest. Anton, Anton, Anton—until those thoughts flooded your mind, strong and vicious.
The priest’s hands were warm as they trailed down your bare skin. You wanted to lean into the warmth: you wanted to tattoo it on your flesh, you wanted it imprinted, made permanent. You could have said that these desires were ignominious, even, humiliating, hideous. But you were no longer blind by the evil that had blinded you. This was good. This was good for you. You had utter faith in Anton.
Your feelings once had been raw and ambivalent. And now they carried on within you, strong, unwavering, comforting.
Anton pressed onto your chest, tapping at where your heart was. “This, Y/n,” Anton’s voice was heavy and commanding. “This belongs to me.”
You took a hitching breath, swallowing.
Anton moved to kiss your neck. “Only I can purge your sinful urges. And only I, my darling, can consecrate you. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” you whispered, “yes, I do.”
Anton smiled. His gaze was heavy, like his words: shadowed, dark, dangerous. It was clouded with haziness, and his arousal was pressed against your thighs, his arms spreading your legs apart. You whimpered, but offered no protest. Your muscles shook from the stretch, but you remained obedient. Sweet, darling lamb. Yes. You would be a sweet, darling, obedient, loving lamb.
“You have been so good lately,” Anton purred, “and there are no more lies. You have changed—I was right, wasn’t I? Around you there was only a plethora of distractions. And now it’s just…” He pressed his forehead against yours. “You and I. You have morphed, Y/n, you have become perfect.”
Hell was a man’s own creation, so was heaven. And you were a piece of heaven that had been carved out for himself. You were his, fully his — you were no longer anyone else’s. His, his, his.
Anton pressed his fingers against the wetness of your hole, slowly slipping into it. You gave a startled pant: where was it? Where was the pain you were expecting? This was no penance, this was—
“See,” Anton said softly, pressing further until you gave another strangled sound, breathier this time, when his fingers brushed against your prostate. “See, Y/n? Your sins have been absolved. By submitting yourself to me, there is no pain. No penance.”
“Please,” you panted—the fingers were not enough. Where were you? You were still so impure, so dirtied— you wanted it.The pained ecstasy. The purification. The Anointment. “Why won’t…why won’t you give it to me?”
Anton tilted his head, smiling. “I thought you wanted this. I remember you begging me last time: to be gentler, to be tender. What’s wrong, Y/n?”
You could not even place it in words. Breathless moans left as your throat when Anton pressed deeper still: you swallowed, before you shook his head. “I…don’t…know,” was all you managed to choke out, “I don’t know.”
“Hm,” Anton murmured. “Very well,” he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “you are loose, Y/n—you are so loose. Were you thinking about me? Were you waiting anxiously for this? Did you want this?”
“Yes, Anton,” you managed out in between your breaths, quick and dirty. “Yes.”
Anton pulled his fingers out abruptly, and you were left trembling. Your eyes were watery, almost: your back arched, your fingers fisted around the sheets. You almost caught your breath before you felt the same feeling again: the feeling you wanted, of origination and sin and purification—You could feel the delicate flesh battered and pried open again. You gave a soft moan—Anton pressed to the hilt, and thrusted. You started to scream—but it was of pained ecstasy.
It was nowhere as painful as the first time. This time was more mellow. Anton’s touch was bruising against your hips, leaving behind imprints of blue and black. The thrust pinched everything from you, all your breaths and your thoughts and all that horrifying, twisted doubt—all those reservations.
Anton continued. That same feeling plunged all the way up to your gut—it crushed your prostate entirely. You felt yourself start to release guttural, muffled sounds: you tried to swallow back your sobs, unable to discern between the wretched desire and pleasure that kept pulling, yanking at you—and the pain. Anton was still certainly gentler than last time. And this time round, Anton had prepared you.
You screamed, your hands flying out to claw at Anton’s back. You could feel yourself nearing your first orgasm; so painful, so soon, and tears flowed freely down your fever red cheeks. Your hole stretched painfully around the girth of Anton’s cock—Anton continued this pace, but oh—he was so gentle with you.. It was almost like the priest was praising you.
Good job, Anton seemed to be telling you, with the kisses peppered on your face, with the gentle, supple tugs of your hair whenever you started to wobble—good job.
“You are doing so beautifully,” Anton cooed, “so, so well.”
You could barely think through the hazy pleasure. Anton set up a rhythm like this, Anton sliding out just right to see you clinging almost whorishly to his cock—then pressing, pushing, spreading you open with a force that made your throat raw from the obscene sounds you made. Anton’s voice was calm and soothing, low, almost menacing, a juxtaposition to the violence below. But it wasn’t his fault. Anton had wanted to be gentle, you had refused. You wanted the pain, it was your punishment. You would claw Anton’s back, Anton’s lips would capture your own with each cry you wanted to release. His kiss was always breathtaking—literally, in a sense that all coherent thoughts and all your breaths were ripped away from you; and then Anton would chew on your bottom lip, biting it, allowing a stream of crimson to bleed out.
“Anton,” you moaned out feverishly, “Anton.”
The priest continued to fuck you with a blind frenzy, eyes dark and hooded and the grip on your hips so tight—so that you wouldn’t dare to even crawl away. So that you wouldn’t even dream of it. So that you would remain pilant and soft and warm and obedient.
“I’m sorry,” you started to say, your words punctuated by sobs, “I’m sorry I was so…”
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Punish me all you like. I deserved all of it. I deserved every single bit of it. Every inch. Everything. Everything Anton did—was it not what you were practically begging for? Anton had given you so many chances, but you had failed him each and every time.
“There is nothing to apologize for,” His voice was calm and soothing, not matching the violence below. “You have repented. And that, Y/n, is the most important.”
Anton pushed again—and this time the sound you made was almost inhuman: when you finally, finally—felt the warmth flooding into you, when you finally felt your insides being filled, your sin being washed away. And you were filled so completely, so much of it that some spilled from your hole, that you felt like you were choking on it. You released at the same time—the electrifying heat spread all the way to the tips of your fingers, enveloping you whole, leaving you dazed and weightless from the ecstasy of it.
Anton kissed your tears away, and his face was one of pride when he touched your forehead gently.
“Good job,” Anton whispered, his voice lilting and insidious. “Good job, Y/n.”
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-Bashful Thinking | Rengoku x M! Reader
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{Author's note: to be clear, I haven't finished Demon Slayer, but I don't care for spoilers- I stopped watching at the start of the train ark, so before Rengoku died. Spoilers of things after this event don't affect me as I really don't care much. ALSO I'VE POSTED FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER}
° Requested?: No•
{For requests and rules: here!}
° Type: Smut•
《☆》marks the start & End!
° Warnings: Bottom reader•
° Length: Short•
{1,344 words}
° Challenge: Actually writing this is my Challenge, I've never written a Smut before- and ontop of a character ive never written before? Yeah I'm sorry if it's bad T-T•
° ProofReading?: No•
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Trees swayed as the wind picked up, and only the sound of slight tapping against hardwood could be heard Inside the flame hashira's estate. A lone male walked along the corridors, He couldn't help but make way to the courtyard, watching the way the flame headed man trained hard, sweat dripping down his brow.
" ! " The flamed male looked over at the sound of steps on the wood, only to see a long familiar face. " Ah! Y/N, It's nice to see you've come out of your room " With Rengoku's unusually quieter voice, it caught the other off guard. Y/N only shifted in place, looking away to check if anyone woke to the other speaking before he spoke himself. "Yes... I couldn't sleep..." He trailed off, but his wandering eyes trailed over the others form, 'im no better then a woman-' the thought came as soon as his eyes flicked back up to the flame users face, feeling slightly guilty at his oogling.
Rengoku gave a hum, chuckling at the way the other looked at him. " Well, we can't have that now, can we? " his smile was bright as he gave a grin at Y/N, already wiping the sweat from his brow before he made his way over. " Care to walk with me? If you cannot sleep, then I can offer my companionship. " Y/N tilted his head back, looking up at the male in front of him before his ears heated up. " Are you sure? I wouldn't want to ruin your training time, "
" Nonsense little flame, let's walk. " The flame hashira set his hand onto Y/N's back, guiding him to walk inside the estate. The silence was loud for a little while, the moments of silence through the night were like a knife cutting into Y/N's ears as they burned so much. Rengoku didn't pay attention to the flustered one's antics, instead letting the wind speak for a few more minutes.
Walking through the halls, the shadows of candles flickered and the old wood creaked. The silence continued before the taller voice came out. " Y/N, you often have trouble sleeping at night... Is there any reason? I find myself thinking I should have you change rooms if this continues "
"Ah- like, changing rooms closer to you?" Y/N jumped at first, letting himself sway slightly in the hall. " But No, No. I'm alright; i really just suck at falling asleep " He gave a weak laugh, not really being able to fathom having a room closer to the hashira's. 'That might just make me have an even harder time anyway...' Y/N shook his head, rounding the corner before stopping and crossing his arms. " Besides, I don't need more excuses " He huffed lightly.
" Excuses? " Rengoku raised a brow, tilting his head as his eyes trailed over the smaller's face, stopping beside him. The way the candlelight only reached half of his skin made him sigh. " Little flame, the only excuses you have are in your mind, you just don't wanna be roomed so close to me. " The hashira gave a smile, wrapping an arm around Y/N, voice becoming only a bit louder before Y/N shushed him in scolding.
" Keep your voice down... last thing we need is someone waking up and questioning why we're up, " Y/N sighed loudly, running a hand down his face to soothe his burning ears. He was having a hard time right now, the way he loved the way Rengoku was, but way too affectionate for his taste. It all just made Y/N flustered, wanting to crawl into a hole and die like the demons the flame hashira has met. " You're aware that you're gonna be the death of me, right? "
Rengoku gave a laugh before pulling Y/N closer to him, nuzzling his head into his hair. " Only the finest of deaths for my little flame, but not before I get to treat you like the prince you are " He gave a grin that pressed into the smaller's hair.
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Rengoku held Y/N's face, his larger hands warm on the smaller's skin. He gave a grin as he beamed, watching the way the other squirmed every time Rengoku rubbed his back. " So squirmy little flame " He laughed lightly, leaning back with him in his arms.
" Stop that- " Y/N shivered before scrunching his nose. He sat up on top of Rengoku's waist, looking down at him. " And you wonder why I don't want to move my room closer. " *Elliot sighed, pushing Rengoku's hair out of his face before he leaned down and pressed his forehead against the other.
《☆》
The sound of a shivered breath broke through the room, Y/N was pushed into the bed shivering as he bit his lip, trying to keep quiet as he felt like his skin was on fire. It burned, being uncomfortable. The flame hashira had been slowly pressing his fingers slowly into the male, curling one as he tried to be as soft as possible. " I'm sorry, bear with it for a little longer " Rengoku gave an apology, feeling sorry that he was the one who was causing Y/N the discomfort.
" Mgh... It's fine, just- " Y/N shivered, closing his eyes. " It feels weird, " he gave a sigh, pushing himself into Rengoku's pillows as he could feel the drag of the other's finger pads against the soft insides of his body. It'd been so long since they actually did anything, with Rengoku having to be away from his estate for so long on trips, trying not to die from demons and such, that it really made no time for just the two of them.
After moments of preparation, Y/N could feel himself give way, relaxing a bit more as he just gave a soft hm every time he could feel the male press into him. It wasn't long before the sound of clothes ruffling was heard, clearly trying to be quiet. Y/N looked back with tired eyes, watching the flame Hashira undress.
Muffled Soft cries and gasps filled the room, Y/N biting on Rengoku's arm to keep quiet as the other was hunched over him, chest into the other's back with one arm around the smaller's waist. Rengoku's breath was warm on his neck. With every press into the mat, Y/N could feel his knees burning, the only cushion being the mat and blanket under them.
Y/N bit a bit harder into Rengoku's skin, making the larger male hiss lightly. "Little Flame- careful, " Rengoku's hair fell forward, brushing against Y/N's skin. Every press was like heaven and hell for Y/N, as if his insides were getting rearranged slowly.
Y/N's head was pressed into the pillows by Rengoku's hand, gripping his hair. The smaller had lost biting privileges for now for biting too hard, probably making a mark that would scar later on if not taken care of. Y/N was practically crying into the pillows as he arched his back, eyes shut with overwhelming pleasure.
Rengoku was biting at the inside of his mouth, continuing to press deeper into the smaller. Every thrust, every push, was like a rumble through Y/N, It rocked his bones. But it didn't take long before a sputter of liquid seeped into the other's entrance, making Rengoku slow down and press deep into the male, leaning down to kiss Y/N's nape. " Are you tired now? " Rengoku's voice was grumbled but pleased with himself, pressing kisses along Y/N's skin before he pulled out, making the other whine for a moment.
《☆》
His body felt like it was on cloud nine when he fell asleep in Rengoku's bed. But the moment he woke up, it was hell. He was so sore. Y/N opened his eyes, his body was tightly wrapped in the blanket with Rengoku's arms wrapped around him. 'Fuck... thats the last time we do that in his room. My knees are too old for this' Y/N whined mentally, pulling himself more into the blanket with a struggle.
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Not sure if your taking requests but perhaps a Seungmin x Minho audio 🙏🙏🙏
Seungknow - 2Min
Here's your request, my love, use your imagination... 😏
Seungknow smut audio