.𖥔݁˖ thinking of vampires who adore the sacrament of you, their little pet, feeding upon them. they encourage your biting, cradling your head against their bared neck so tenderly it borders on patronising. the breaths they need not take still when your incisors press into their skin, as though your blunt teeth could ever wound them like how their fangs effortlessly pierce through your flesh. they whisper for you to inflict pain upon their immortal flesh, to make them feel what it means to live again. oh brave, sweet human, bite harder.
.𖥔݁˖ thinking of vampires who use their own fangs to puncture their wrists above your lips, their slit pupils dilating as they watch their black coagulated blood fighting its viscosity to slowly drip into your waiting mouth. it is dark and reluctant, resisting parting from its immortal host into the shameful body of a lesser animal, yet its former owner looks at you with such unmistakable reverence, with such flagrant disregard for the arguments of their flesh.
(￣^￣)ゞ yes, qi! assorted characters from degrees of lewdity, genshin, and honkai: star rail + bonus!
clingy yandere zombies.
death will not be enough to pull them away from you. cold lips pout when you focus on thinking of other survivors, and what vocal chords remain are to talk your ear off and remind you just how much they love you <3
kaveh: he doesn't have to worry about deadlines anymore, at last. there is some peace in this new 'life' of his, wrapped around your finger forevermore and following behind you like a puppy. he stays by your side, watching over your sleeping form or staying alert while talking your ear off as he watches for other threats to this oddly domestic life. he can relax without thinking of small budgets or alhaitham's bickering: any empty notebooks are his new sketchbooks for diagrams as he dreams and draws up this building and that, your future home, what he imagines you would have decorated the home like.
jordan: it's a miracle from the heavens! they declare. it's such a wonderful thing that they can stay with you even after they should be dead. are they dead? are they alive? does it matter? you've always been the only mortal light in their world, and that does not change now as they pray for your safety before any step out of the makeshift home you made of the temple. they're as beautiful as ever, still so pristine even in death as they walk at your side and try to help who they can.
sunday: considering how he looks at welt the same way a teen at the doctor's looks at their parent, he's clinging by your side every step of the way after death. it's born of fear, at first, the cold indifference of death claimed his mind in a way that only terrified him, but your side is a respite he wants to stay in forever. he will never leave you unless it's to protect you, will never betray nor harm you. his wings flutter when he realizes he can still stay with you, and don't you dare see him as a monster, not with how he crawls at your feet and worships you like one would a god (you may as well be his)
"normal" yandere zombies.
childe: hey girlie, you didn't think he wouldn't find a way to challenge death, too? you're sure that, had he died before the whole zombie apocalypse bit, he would have crawled out of the grave and to your doorstep on his own now that he had an excuse. all that changes is how he now proudly proclaims that he has died for you; no one else could be this loyal to you! he's still scaring off (read: eliminating) any potential suitors (read: anyone with a pulse and any other of the sentient undead), so you're always safe with him, he promises
dan heng: he probably predicted this happening. considering his whole rebirth/lives/identities bit, i don't think he's entirely surprised to wake up with you above him to explain that, incredibly, he's now a zombie. he files away any new sensations he has as an undead, but otherwise, he's quite alright and just the same as before. he loves you the same, maybe more, now that he can continue in this new version of life with you, makes any notes needed and already had hypotheticals and maps planned out in the event of a similar apocalypse, so neither of you find much want for anything aside from new shows.
kaeya: though this isn't what he meant when he declared, time and time again, that he'd die for you in his pillow talk promises and drunken makeouts, but he's glad he can make sure no one can take you from him. he's twirling his hair around his finger as he purrs out another way he loves you when he watches you reload a weapon to protect him. he's still your princess, and while he could dirty his blade with the gore of the mindless zombies, he just adores watching you protect him.
ritz: oh, oh no, he doesn't want to be in a crowd! being a zombie doesn't panic him as much as being in crowds still does. it's not the meetcute he always dreamed of, but your calming touch as you help calm down the sentient and undead ball of nerdy anxiety has him fall for you instantly. granted, he is no real help apart from bug knowledge, trivia, and what flora and fauna related to bugs, but he's too cute to leave alone. a kiss is always a quick and sweet way to shut him up, though... and another, and another...
protective yandere zombies.
your sword and shield in life and death. nothing will stop them from fighting other zombies, and even survivors, if it means your safety. your life is above what remains of theirs. after all, you are their world; they will protect that at all costs.
mydei: becoming a zombie doesn't change him one bit, not really. he's always been resilient in the face of death, and at your side, that fact remains true. when those arms aren't wrapped around you in hugs, he's keeping those muscles working with exercise or fighting off the hordes that dare intrude upon his territory and your shared home. he's never a danger to you, never has been and never will be.
sydney the fallen: what do you expect? he's your bitch, it doesn't matter that he's a zombie now. and what's hotter than knowing he literally died for you and nothing can keep him from you? he does not hesitate to bash in someone's head on your command or to protect you. he loves everything about you and this situation, and with everything going on, church vows aren't thought of or even in the question he fucks himself on your cock in public. mindless zombies don't have a concept of taboo and can't judge. he'll still skewer them all if they approach you.
whitney: when not beating you up, he's beating up others. toxic little fuck is not letting you go, even in death. you're sure he only died and came back out of sheer spite. his love is more twisted than the fact you're fucking what's practically a corpse. he's lucky he's too fuckable and it's too rewarding to have him shut up with your cock down his throat.
stalker yandere zombies.
blade: he's always watched you from the sidelines. through your window at night, from the back of the class he only signed up for so he may be with you... well, death knew better than to take him from you for long. he takes advantage of any kind he now has, following you to any ends of this doomed earth so he may watch and be with you once more. he is merciless to his own kind, sword indiscriminately cutting down the living and the undead to make his way to you.
kylar: duh.
FIRE EMOJI!!!!!!!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
I thought I lost this post forever and I never ran to check my Tumblr on mobile so fast in my life.
Do you think rigor mortis sets in for zombies? Do you think they'd be oh so glad to leech off of your body warmth? That they'd do anything to feel your pulse continue to beat as long as they're standing by your side?
"Come now, open wide." Bailey's thumb swiped over your lip, smearing his precum all over it. You obediently opened it and darted your tongue out, feeling his head twitching above your warm tongue. He didn't wait for you to open wide enough for his size, forcing his way into you. He could feel your teeth scrapped his cock and he surprisingly enjoyed it.
"Careful with your teeth, you don't wanna lose them right?"
His words seemed to scare you as he felt you open wider. It didn't take him long to use you comfortably, fucking your face and throat like a fleshlight, only giving you split seconds to breathe before he buried his cock deep into your throat, feeling it twitch and gagging you.
At least he had trained you well enough to not have you vomit or gag too much. A toy he molded to his own cock's shape and size. Any holes that he could bury himself into were bound to be ruined by him and you better thank him that he was merciful enough to not tear a new hole into you.
Maybe that wouldn't be a bad idea for when you started to misbehave and defy him, put you back into your rightful place.
His pace was no longer steady and he started to lose his temper, his hand tugging and pulling your hair harder to the point you felt like he might tear your scalp. He was close, damn close.
"Attagirl/boy, gonna feed you dinner. Don't waste a single drop."
God he loved how salacious the noises you made, struggling to accommodate to his size. Not like it would last any longer as he pushed your face into him, pouring his cum into your throat while you simultaneously drink it down. Just before he finished, he pulled back and came into your mouth as well, "Show it to me before you swallow."
And obediently you did. You could taste the aftertaste and to be frank, he tasted way better than anyone you knew, mostly contributed by his healthy diet and way of living you suppose. Anyone would have thought Bailey lived off cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol but Bailey was a healthy man.
And that would his semen taste damn good.
Good enough to make you squirm in impatience, waiting for him to allow you to swallow it as he eyed your mouth. The sight alone made his limp cock grow again.
"Good. Now swallow it."
And happily did you do it, licking your lip as a taunting tease. Bailey would love to have you run that tongue over his cock again.
NEED a fic w kylar and breeding or anything to do with breeding ive been so obsessed lately and I love your work 🥰😍😘🥰😘😍😘🥰😘😍😘🥰😘🥰
this sat in my inbox for the longest time sorry nonnie!! here are some drabbles with the dol lis <3 i also included my small hc of fauxcest with robin its just TOO good of a trope for him
pairings robin, kylar, sydney x f!reader
contains p in v s-x, breeding (duh), pregnancy mention, fauxcest in robin’s, exhibitionism, mating press, virginity loss, cunningulus,
robin breeds you because he wants to knock you up. he oh so desperately wants to see your belly round and filled with his seed, his kid, so that you’ll leave the orphanage and start your own little family. you guys are family already, are you not? you grew up as siblings, and strangely enough that gets him going even more, folding you into a mating press and emptying load after load inside of you, until there’s a pool of cum and your juices spilling out of your abused pussy. he sloppily makes out with you while plowing into you, licking your cheeks and biting your lips while muttering endless praises and pet names. he’s such a romantic at heart! so he hopes and prays to make you a mommy - at least then, avery and bailey won’t be interested in you anymore.
similarly, kylar wants to breed you because he wants to make you his little bride and finally tell the world you’re his. but he knows you’d actually kill him if he got you pregnant, so he’s not going to lace your birth control just yet. he’s happy enough with spilling a load or two per day inside of you, but he especially loves when you’re feeling subby and obedient and keep his cum plugged in your pussy with your panties while you’re in school - you have to be extra careful to make sure it doesn’t spill outside of you. kylar also loves when you fall asleep with his cock inside of you: the both of you naked in his bed after fucking so late at night when you’re so sleepy that you don’t even want him to pull out. well, he’s content enough like this. maybe kids can wait.
the first time sydney cums inside of you is an accident. he really should’ve known better - he remembers the countless lectures sirris gave him about using condoms - but he also knows he was supposed to wear a chastity belt and wait until marriage, so maybe a small mistake like this isn’t the end of the world. funnily enough, it happens during your first time. it’s not his fault! he just got too excited… but seeing the way your eyes rolled into your skull as he emptied his load inside your cunt, sydney was sure that he wanted to fill you up every time. and that’s exactly what he does, even as he falls deeper into his corruption, he never forgets to cum deep inside his pretty girlfriend. but of course, he gets more teasing and cunning, so it’s very likely that he’ll clean you up himself after he’s done, lapping at your little pussy filled with his own cum.
you gave a weak whine, head filled with nothing but kylarsydneykylarsydneykylarsydney—
“told you i found it.”
your eyes, dazed and glossed over with a teary sheen to them, snapped up to look at kylar. his green eyes, as obsessive as ever, bore into your own, while his hands gripped at your hips with a possessive hold. it was a tight enough grip to have you gasping, but the pain barely registered as sydney gave a sudden sharp thrust.
you felt oh-so-impossibly full. it had taken a lot of time, patience, and gentle coaxing from both of your partners, but you found yourself filled to the absolute brim in the end. both cocks bullied your inner walls, body on cloud nine as sensitive tremors overtook your sense of control with every other thrust.
as much as you hated to admit it, their bickering was doing something to you. sydney was all too stubborn and kylar was as jealous as ever, and it could get a little overwhelming at times, but now? god, was it hot.
both sydney and kylar were incredibly attentive lovers on their own, but together their individual doting natures vanished impossibly fast. there was something about the way they acted as if you weren’t there, not really, and fucked into you one at a time, one after another.
fuck, it was so much better this way.
it was so much better to be rendered down into nothing but their personal stress relief while they argued, words rapidly growing harsher and filled with more annoyance.
it was somewhere along they way that both kylar and sydney had figured out your little scheme, somewhere between your high-pitched and breathy little moans, desperate pleas for more, the way your hips canted back and forth as you chased your high with no shame.
“bet i can make them cum before you.”
“you can’t! you won’t!”
there’s no way you’re making it out of this alive.
That one Whitney ask where Vrel said he'd like to be slapped then kissed... Gears are turning.
Got me thinking about having this back and forth dynamic with Whitney. In front of his pals, you're putty in his hands, hanging off him all the time, sitting on his lap and rutting against his hard on. It doesn't matter that there's people, you know he likes it, and it's good for his status anyways
But when you're in his room, things are different. He lays beside you, pillows covering his face slightly, his eyes boring into your as you rub his cock through his pants with your foot. You're sitting against the wall and he can see the outline of your pussy from here. Your socks feel really warm against his dick, and you rub the tip with your toes. He groans and smiles with that yummy smirk of his.
And yeah, slapping. He loves it. He'll slap you hard with the tip of his fingers when you're fucking, smushing your cheeks and slobbering his tongue all over your face. He loves how your eyes light up when he smacks you and the yelps you let out.
When you're on top, you slap him too. He loves that shit. Slap him back and forth like a dramatic movie scene and all he'll do is smile wider. His dick twitches with every slap, and even more when you french him all sloppy after. It's not always a market dynamic, a lot of times it's just a back and forth in slapping until one of you get tired and pin the other down.
I imagine whitney is also really into sharing spit. Not just by kissing but straight up spitting on each other. On the face and open mouth ofc. Spit on him then spread the saliva all over his face and he's cumming instantly, bonus points if you lick him after. He'll put his fingers into his own mouth just to rub them all over your mouth right after. It's really gross and shiny and cold but it's also so intimate. He loves it, loves the strange sweetness of having a mix of your and his spit on both your faces.
TW: Obsessive behavior, doctor/patient relationship, past dubious consent, abusive power dynamics, mentions of hypnosis, male Harper
NSFW! MDNI
Reader is gender neutral + AFAB
You don't know how long you had been here, and you were sure Harper and the rest of the nurses purposefully kept that information from you. Longer than a month, surely. Long enough for the other patients to call you "Harper's bitch", that was for sure.
As offended as you were by the crude nickname they had given you, it was still undeniably true. Harper controlled almost every aspect of your life. Sure, he essentially controlled all the patients' lives as long as they were in his ward, but you were a different case. You got a certain kind of privilege (that's what Harper called it, at least) not afforded to any patient. Your room was always the closest to his office, meaning he could just "stop in and check in on" you any time of any day.
Sometimes, it was a simple chat. He'd ask you how you were, give you a quick peck on the lips, and leave.
Other times, it was more serious sessions. Sessions that went on for far too long and made you extremely exhausted for days afterwards. He hypnotized you into being complacent, dumb, and forgetful, but you knew fully well what he had been doing to you. There were moments he didn't even bother going through hypnosis first. Those times he was obviously more pent up and frustrated, which used to be rare, but now it seemed like he got like that at least once a week.
Occasionally you enjoyed his attention and praise, but the toll it took on you to please him had gotten so mentally taxing that there were days you considered trying to break out or notify the outside world. Unfortunately for you, Harper never let patients use outside technology like cellphones.
As humiliating and invasive as the daily routine was for you, he also showered you with attention you never got outside of the hospital.
"Time for your session," a nurse calmly notified you.
You nodded and walked your normal route to Harper's office. You've memorized the way after having to go there so many times each and every day. Harper sat behind his large oak desk, reading a file on another patient.
"Y/N," Harper greeted. His piercing pink eyes peeked out over the rim of his glasses. He had his straight blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail to keep it from falling into his face while he's working. He raised his hand in the air and made a gesture for the nurse to leave. Once the nurse shut the door behind him, Harper spoke again. "Come sit."
Obedient as ever, you quickly sat yourself on Harper's lap. It had became your usual spot at this point.
Harper peppered gentle, loving kisses along your cheek, jaw, neck, and lips. It was hard to understand anything about the doctor, but one thing he made obvious was he loved kissing you.
When he pulled back, he ran his hand through your hair affectionately. His hand traveled down your torso, rubbing and touching at whatever pleased him. He pressed sloppy wet kisses over your neck and ground his knee against your clothed cunt. You keened and leaned into him, grinding down on his leg in hopes of stimulation. He chuckled darkly, always amused with how needy and desperate you got so quickly.
"Do you know what today is?" he asked in between pecks along your collarbone.
You shook your head.
Harper trailed his finger lightly along your side. "It's your birthday."
For just a split second, you felt happy. But then you put together how long that meant you had been here. Your face fell. Harper hummed, noticing your shift in attitude. His warm, broad hands skimmed over your stomach.
"We've been doing such good work recently, haven't we?" he said, ignoring your sudden dejectedness. Harper was good at shifting topics subtly. You hummed quietly in affirmation. "Then tonight," Harper tilted your jaw so you'd make eye contact with him. "I can give you a special treat for your birthday." He kissed your nose.
"Okay, Doctor Harper," you whispered, leaning into his hold. His strong hands pressed into your sides, encouraging you to keep grinding against his leg. You weren't getting any real stimulation that way, but he loved hearing your whimpers and moans regardless.
You gripped onto the doctor's broad shoulders and arched your back, rolling your hips. Harper watched you with an intent expression on his face.
"What do you want for your special treat, darling?"
"Uh..." Your breathing was getting heavy and he could tell how frustrated you were getting not being able to come from humping his leg. Harper let a hand trail along your torso, stopping to rub your labia through the standard hospital attire you were expected to wear. Your hips shuddered at the indirect touch and a squeaky moan escaped your lips.
"Be descriptive. I can't give it to you if I don't know what you want." Harper rubbed your core faster, encouraged by the high pitched noises and half-formed words coming out of you.
"I-I don't know," you shakily admitted. You just wanted to cum, it didn't matter how at this point.
Harper raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Then would you like to figure it out on my desk?" He didn't even wait for an answer, next thing you knew, he had hoisted you up with a shocking amount of strength. He sat you on the cold wood and made a place for himself by parting your legs open. "So cute, you're soaking already," Harper muttered to himself. He rubbed the dampened fabric between your legs, cooing when you jerked and let out a satisfied gasp.
"Doctor," you whined.
Just as Harper planned on removing your underwear, there was a knock on the door. His usual composed expression was gone, only for a second. He stood up straight to smooth down his hair and fix his tie. "Under the desk."
His tone was soft but stern. You crawled under, sitting on the floor comfortably in between Harper's legs. Harper seated himself in his comfortable, office chair and pulled it in so you would have just enough room.
"Come in," he answered, already back to his professional voice. You sat in the dark beneath the desk and listened to the nurse come in, talking about something related to the medication being stocked low again.
They began exchanging words back and forth, but your mind wasn't on that. It was rather on the obvious sight of his cock straining in his pants right in front of your face. You looked up for any acknowledgement from Harper, but his attention was focused on the nurse.
Without any sense of urgency, your hands slowly trailed up his legs. Harper didn't bat an eye. You played with the buckle, undoing and sliding the belt off. Your fingertips skimmed along his trousers, feeling the shape of his cock with a gentle press and rub. A small sigh left his lips.
Unzipping the zipper, you reached your hand into his trousers and pulled his underwear down just enough to give yourself some freedom to work with. His erection stood tall against his abdomen. Harper glanced down at you momentarily, meeting your eyes right as you were bringing your lips onto the tip of his cock.
His fingers tensed against his pen in his hand but he said nothing.
"Doctor Harper?" The nurse was worried about his sudden shift in focus, which prompted his gaze away from you. "Are you okay?"
"It's fine," Harper answered a bit too quickly. His face was lightly flushed pink and he was trying his best to not give himself away. You enjoyed how swiftly he could lose his composure.
You hollowed out your cheeks and took in the head of his cock, rolling your tongue around to tease the head.
"Are you sure?" the nurse pushed further. You wrapped your lips around Harper and swallowed his cock deeper, inch by inch. A jagged inhale sounded through the office. "Should I go get you a coffee or some water? You don't look very well."
Harper coughed. "That's unnecessary. I- ah -just get back to work. Please. I-I'm busy. Very busy."
As much as you could get annoyed with him, he was cute stuttering like a mess above you. It wasn't a common sight, so naturally you'd want to take advantage of it. You took a slow, teasing drag up his length, stopping just as the tip left your lips. Harper was used to you being needier and greedy by now. Something as simple as a painfully slow blow job threw him for a loop. His hips jerked for the feeling of your hot mouth to be back on him, which you complied.
Once he was sure the door shut behind the nurse, Harper put down his pen, rolled his chair in further, and bucked into your mouth without warning. You sputtered from the intrusion of your throat being filled.
He wrapped his lithe fingers into your hair, holding you in place. Your throat swallowed around the thick length, and Harper shivered from the pleasant feeling. He was frantic to chase his release.
With a shuddering breath, he bucked into you a final time and came, keeping your head pushed down as he did. He looked down at you with a proud gaze. "Make sure to swallow, dear. It's good for you." He freed you from under his desk, still panting. He caressed your cheek once you resurfaced and kissed over your sensitive lips. "Good job."
"It was supposed to be my birthday, and here I was pleasing you," you grumbled.
Harper didn't seem to mind your pouting at all. He glanced at the clock in the top right of the room. "Don't worry, darling, you still didn't tell me what you want for your birthday." Harper's fingers brushed through your hair, straightening any stray hairs and loose strands. "I'm afraid we don't have any more time now, but I could pay you a visit tonight. Would that make you happy?"
Happy wasn't exactly the emotion you'd associate with Harper visiting your room late at night. Yet you nodded. "Can I have some birthday cake, too?" You couldn't recall the last time you had sweets like that. The hospital's version of sweets were fruit cups and yogurt. Harper must've noticed how excited you were at the simple mention of a cake since he smiled, a toothy and genuine smile. You found it a bit hard to believe that Doctor Harper of all people could do such a thing.
Read on Ao3
Pairing/Characters: M!Jordan x GN!Reader (ambiguous/non-gendered body... hole. Anal or vaginal? It's your call buddy!)
Genre: Smut 18+ MDNI
Warnings/Content: religion, non-con/dubcon, bondage/restraint, virgin Jordan cumming inside reader, penetrative sex, anal OR vaginal... Big ole marathon holy fuck session.
Word count: 2k
Summary: You are a demon undergoing the first frightening signs of transformation, and the Temple are keen to deliver you from impurity – with or without your consent. Despite his inexperience, Jordan the Pious is prepared to enact the sacred rite and deliver you from evil... for your own good.
A/N: I really liked writing this, it was fun to lean into the flowery, formalised religious language. It’s meant to be a bit silly – I mean come on, Sacrament of the Seven Holy Loads? Get outta here.
Dedicated to my beloved @mothinabottle! Thank you for letting me take a crack at this brilliant concept, and for your kind encouragement and support! I hope you enjoy!
You awake in an unfamiliar chamber. Cool air chills your bare skin.
The clothes you’d been wearing are nowhere to be found, leaving you exposed and helpless. Already, pain gnaws at your spine – you’re bent double, wrists and neck encased in a device not unlike the pillory you’d seen in the town square. A rich, herbaceous incense fills the air with a fragrant, velvety smoke. You hear voices and know better than to speak just yet. In situations like this, you’d learned the benefits of patience – it had often saved your life.
“Do not fear, Brother Jordan. It is what must be done.”
You turn your head towards the source of the words. Two robed figures converse with a young man - someone you recognise. Jordan the Pious nods gravely and turning towards you with a drawn expression that’s difficult to read. His eyes hold an unusual fragility, shining delicately like blue glass – he’s bold enough to meet your gaze as the group approach.
“Jordan? W-where am I?” you plead. The sound of your voice is weak, but ought to be heard over the gentle chanting which echoes from an unknown source. Still, Jordan doesn’t respond – only eyes you with concern. One of the robed figures reaches out to tug your newly sprouted horns, hidden among tousled hair. The flesh surrounding them is still tender, and you let out a small whine of discomfort. A second hand kneads the base of your spine, trailing close to the cleft of your exposed ass before withdrawing.
“They can yet be saved,” the figure affirms solemnly. “The Sacrament of the Holy Loads exists for this very purpose.”
“But I… I am afraid,” Jordan’s voice is low and humble. There’s a brittle quality to it that you’ve rarely heard, and it only feeds your growing discomfort. “I’ve never…”
“And I pray you never will again,” the third figure interjects sternly. “You are young, Brother Jordan. The Sacrament has not been performed since your predecessor. But you must embrace your duties.”
Jordan nods stiffly. His golden hair peeks from his cowl, framing youthful features – but in the dim light of flickering candles, he almost seems weary and aged. For the barest moment, his cold eyes meet your own - a look of pity twisting his lips downward. You tug at your bonds, but he doesn’t react to your struggles. You watch helplessly as a hooded figure lays a thin hand on Jordan’s shoulder.
“It is time.”
A controlled breath streams from Jordan’s lips, and he gives another curt nod. You search his eyes for reason but find no acknowledgement as the priest begins to disrobe in silence. As his toned form is revealed to your widened eyes, you fight the rising dryness in your throat. You’re astonished to discover his chastity device has been removed - Jordan’s large cock swings heavy and free, nudging between his thighs.
Sensing impending danger, you fight against your bonds, and find the wooden restraints rattling as you flex and writhe. Despite your efforts, they hold firm, and you only manage to tire yourself out. Perhaps the incense is making you weary. With a whispered plea, you appeal to Jordan once more.
“Jordan, please… tell me what’s happening.”
The priest shushes you gently, removing his cowl to unleash golden strands to the candlelight – tumbling magnificently around his naked body like the most luxurious cloak.
“You are sick, child. Awash with sin…” Pity thickens his usually melodious voice, and he glides towards you – extending a gentle hand to cup your face and tilt your gaze upwards to meet his own. “But… There is a cure, an ancient ritual. All is not lost.”
Despite Jordan’s tender words, a dark fear leeches its way through your gut like mould. His hand reaches into your hair to fondle the ridges of your newly sprouted horns, and you note sadness reflecting in his gentle eyes. With a soft sigh, you watch the priest approach small table - carved of dark wood, and tall enough to reach the centre of his lean chest. Carved runes are etched upon the surface, brightly embossed in gleaming gold. He plucks an object from the tabletop, and as he turns back towards your defenceless form, you recognise it as a rudimentary gag. The device dangles ominously from Jordan’s grasp, wrought of thick leather and carved wood. Although you fight, teeth soon crunch into the yielding wooden surface of the instrument, and it’s wrapped securely around your head. Straining around the gag, you find it pungent – it’s earthy scent stirring fresh nausea as it pains your jaw. A voice calls from the shadows.
“Now, anoint yourself against impurity, Brother Jordan.”
A large dish sits on the table, and Jordan scoops a bright, viscous liquid from its depts. It’s translucent, lilac hue glistens in the candlelight as he gathers it on trembling fingers. Taut breath rattles in his chest, and he begins to dutifully apply it to the surface of his length.
Your eyes expand, drinking in the sight of the priest’s rapidly stiffening cock, shiny with thick, mysterious fluid. Jordan’s jaw tightens, features straining an expression akin to agony as he massages himself to full erection. You don’t know much of what lies beyond the surface of the Temple, but it’s plain from his agonized expression that this isn’t a sensation Jordan is used to - or remotely prepared for. Nevertheless, he perseveres, and when his cock stands proud at full thickness, he steps out of sight behind you. Long, soft hair skims your bare skin, sparking goosebumps to erupt across your ass and thighs. As a firm hand caresses with sinister promise, and you find yourself statue-stiff under his touch. When he withdraws, the alarming sensation of his blunt, bulbous tip pressing your entrance invites cold dread – causing him to steady your twisting hips with a firm grip.
“Be still, child…” A sadness weights his words, only stoking flames of panic. “You will be pure once more…”
Jordan’s slick member probes your hole, testing its pliancy, and you feel hesitation in each awkward roll of his hips. It’s a while before he successfully notches his cock at your entrance, spending a long time slicking himself tentatively over the area before locating his target. But once discovered, he engages fully - fighting against your body’s resistance and stretching your sensitive flesh to what feels like it’s limit. Despite his uncertainty, you’re offered little time for your body to adjust – a deep groan vibrates through wood as your body tenses against the assault brought on by every solid inch.
He only stills at the point of full penetration, enveloped deep in your tight heat. You begin to recognise that the shallow, rushing sound is not blood roaring past your ears – rather, it’s the priest’s shuddering breath above. Amid his panting, he’s muttering something – a hurried prayer, affirmations of his pure, healing intentions.
After an age, Jordan begins to withdraw. You find yourself sinking back to follow out of desperation. The restraints clatter in protest – but he thrusts forth again; friction delighting your sensitive walls and inviting pleasure to fizz through your spine. Soon, his doubtful movements give way to a steady pace, and he repeatedly plunges into you with steely devotion. You find yourself relaxing somewhat, welcoming pleasure to bloom in your gut as his thick cock strokes in and out with purpose.
All too soon, his hips are shuddering against you. Jordan immerses himself deep within your clinging hole, but his climax is barely announced to the chamber by the pitiful wail he bites back. Sweat slickens your brow, and you hang limp against the pillory, whimpering softly into the gag as he withdraws himself. You can only assume it’s his holy seed drizzling thickly from your well-fucked hole, stickying your thighs and dripping down weary legs.
The hooded figures resurface – you notice they hover dangerously in your peripheral, ominous like shadows. You see one dip out of view, and feel their icy cold fingers sliding through the slickness of your entrance. They hum with interest, and you groan with need.
“A fine start, Brother Jordan.”
“And I must do this… six more times?” Jordan’s voice trembles as he dutifully reanoints his shaft with sacred fluid - your eyes spring wide at his words. It’s mere moments before his cock is fully hard again, glistening with fresh ointment and straining against his tight fist.
“It must be so,” a hooded figure confirms. “Only the Sacrament of Seven Holy Loads can free this lost soul from impurity.”
“Then… I do as I must,” Jordan states gravely, disappearing from view once more to reassume position at your rear. The change in his demeanour is subtle – the priest slides his broad tip against your entrance with more assurance than before. Sinking his hips insistently forward, he reclaims your hole– gliding into your lubricated passage with comparative ease.
The dutiful nature with which he assaults your tender entrance might seem impressive, to anyone more willing to appreciate it. Plainly, Jordan’s devotion to the Temple goes beyond what most could imagine. The second load he deposits comes less quickly than the first, and you note the way his stifled movements begin to feel more certain as he fills you with rich jets of cum. It’s not clear if it’s the improvement in his technique or the sheer size of his fat cock which has you groaning in pleasure. You thrash against your restraints - balling fists and biting into the wooden gag in a feeble attempt to control the sensations burning through your aching body.
Soon, you’re well saturated with his holy seed – it oozes readily down your thighs between each sacred fuck-session, and the lewd, rhythmic clapping of slick flesh permeates the chamber. With each climax, Jordan takes longer to recover – gulping water from an ornate goblet as he applies holy salve to his length; a small attempt to hydrate his drained body. For an experienced lover, such a marathon session would likely be a challenge – few could imagine what the virgin priest must be battling with in body and spirit. You strain to keep track of the countless holy loads, but it’s impossible to focus - Jordan’s rhythmic pounding draws orgasm after orgasm from your wretched body, and you wilt against your restraints in rare moments of respite.
You barely register Jordan’s final climax as he delivers it into your abused flesh - your now gushing hole oozing his sacred seed as he withdraws, staggering with exhaustion. Through lidded eyes, you note how his golden hair clings to a toned, sweat-sheened body – he’s a picture of fatigue, yet you’re surprised to detect a hint of righteousness glittering in his eyes.
“Seven…” he pants, the breathy satisfaction in his voice now unmistakable.
“You’ve done well, Brother Jordan,” affirms the cloaked figure. You let your eyes slip shut, content to listen as you allow your body to succumb to fatigue.
“And what of the Sacrament’s success?” Jordan questions between ragged breaths. “When will this poor soul be healed?”
You barely twitch as icy fingers probe your depths once more – their coolness providing some comfort to your swollen flesh.
“We will only know come morning,” a voice replies gravely. “But the Sacrament is known for its success rate… One in seven will be cured.”
“And if they’re not?” Jordan asks, voice shaky with sudden worry. “Is there an alternative?”
“There is no alternative, Brother Jordan,” a hooded figure chuckles darkly, removing their fingers from your slick passage. “In case of failure, the ritual is simply repeated. This poor creature will remain in our custody until we can ensure their purity.”
“But are you not better prepared for you duties now, Brother Jordan?” The other voice chimes, their tone rich with perverse satisfaction. You’re too tired to even contemplate Jordan’s stricken reaction… Your muscles relax, a feeling of lucidity flooding your weary body.
As exhaustion envelops, you feel the sounds and smells of the chamber fade into nothingness once more…
