What do you think would make Jud finally break and fuck reader?
ok so trick question but I don't think it would be fucking. I think things would culminate into a nice, slow kiss that builds from there. Maybe when he's praying for you with his big hands on your face, with your head pressed to his and your mouth so, so close. He doesn't mean to actually do it, but he leans in and kisses you, nice and sweet.
And by that point, it's like a wildfire spreading through his veins that he can't control. He just wants to kiss and kiss and kiss you. To be on you, in you. It's been so long that just letting himself think about it makes him feel dizzy. If his thoughts are an inferno, his actions are a slow boil. Laying you back on the couch in the rectory, kissing along your throat, knowing he should stop. But your pretty church dress hikes up around your hips, and he can see a wet spot in your panties and he's craving you like he hasn't craved in years.
He has to taste you, because this is the last time, and he swears to god this will never ever happen again. And you taste divine, like the sweetest honey on his tongue, and your moans are like angels singing in his ears. Each lap of his tongue over your overheated, slick cunt is like worship at your altar.
He makes you come, dripping onto his tongue, and he still can't stop. The taste of you is so sweet, and he wants to remember it forever. He wants to die still tasting you on the back of his tongue. But you pull at his hair, and you want more. He feels it, he knows what you want. What he wants. He thinks that if this is a test, it's a pretty fucking cruel one.
But he sinks into you. Tight, wet, hot heat swallowing him up. And, Jesus, he'd forgotten how good it could feel. The ecstasy of bodies joining how god intended, bodies made specifically for this very purpose. And he kisses you, because it feels right and it muffles his soft, prayerful cries of your name.
It doesn't last long, but who could expect it to? And when he comes inside of you, you come with him, an answered prayer. He dresses with shame in his heart and lust in his soul, watching his come drip from your swollen cunt. God's will be done.
content: gender neutral reader, religious themes, blasphemy, NSFW, horror
Something is wrong with your beloved Angel, yet you cannot place the dreadful feeling in the depths of your stomach. Perhaps you weren't made to comprehend such divine truths.
5. Honour thy father and thy mother
It was birthed from the void of the Heavens. No parent governs over its will. No being controls its resolve.
Father...? The word rings and echoes across ancient times, forgotten eons. It does not remember its meaning. All it knows is you, and you are enough.
4. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy
"Six days you shall labor, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord, your God." Of course. The law is clear, or at least it should be. Its mind navigates the meaning, suddenly engulfed by a mysterious haze.
Six days it labors, it serves, it worships. It exists for you, to please you and fulfill your desires. Your wish is its command.
Six days of creation. It has been molded just for you, to fit all the nooks and corners of your body and soul. You have taught it how to love, how to crave, how to need. It starves for your touch.
3. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain
"Oh, God", you cry, clinging to the holy beast. It shivers in raw bliss, its many hands embracing your lewd body, drooling and panting in unquenchable desire. Its mind is possessed by one singular thought: to breed you, to own you, to fuck more profanities out of your pretty, little mouth.
The word swirls inside its head, baptized to a new sense: God is when you reach your peak, when you're within its voracious hold. Your trembling hands reach for the horns.
2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image
It yearns to create, to be the architect for once. Your home is littered in unfinished pieces: bizarre, geometrical paintings, abstract statues chiseled in most refined detail, music sheets of notes foreign to your human ears. All of them have something in common - it's how the Angel perceives you.
You fill up its senses, and the essence drips onto its works of art. It gathers the objects of worship together, like the outline of an altar, like an inviting chamber of prayer.
1 Thou shalt have no other gods before me
The abyssal creature bows before you, its many eyes devouring your form. The long, black claws reach out, like a beggar scraping its way out of the depths of ennui.
Jason Todd is canonically Catholic. There is also a universe where he doesn't become Robin and grows up to be a priest. Do you think, if after he comes back to life in the main timeline, he still becomes a priest, and a vigilante, that he would give Gotham goons their last rites? Do you think he was mad or hurt he never got his last rites when he died? Also do you think he experiences the Catholic Guilt ™ for having been resurrected? That he feels unworthy of the same miracle awarded to Lazarus, to Jesus? Do you think he feels guilty about not being able to forgive Bruce? Do you think he feels angry at the cruel God that brought him back but didn't spare his stepmother? That allows the horrors that plague Gotham to continue to thrive? Do you think his experience of death would strengthen his faith or fracture it?
The best part about Christ's atonement is that if you're having a bad day you can retroactively project your period cramps onto Jesus and it's actually canon
Thinking about priest Jason Todd and realizing that would be really fucking funny if he was just this die hard catholic.
Damian, invading his safe house again messing around like a little shit: What do you keep in this drawer? Tt- It's probably a knife.
Jason: My Bible.
Damian:
Damian: Your what?
Jason, deadpanned: My Bible.
---
Dick: I know I will regret this
Dick: What's up with the altar candle's in front of Virgin Mary?
Jason: I pray for each soul I take.
Dick: I'm sorry– you what?
Jason: Each sould I take. When I kill people. So they find their way into purgatory. How do you think they are getting in hell? I light the candle, I pray for them *Looking at the candles* Your welcome.
---
In the middle of a shooting with almost a hundred henchmen
Jason, whispering: If we get out of here alive I'll walk the entirety of Gotham's church stairs on my knees.
The signal, next to him: Because that definitely won't be nothing disturbing. Early mourning fuckin Redhood, walking on his knees to a church. You usual Sunday in Gotham city.
Jason: Shut up asshole I'm praying.
---
Batman, inside of a church at nine pm doing an investigation: What are you doing here?
Jason lifting his head up from the church pew, holding his hands: The fuck look like I'm doing?
✦Genre: smut [MDNI] - sub!Jeongin x dom!Reader ✦ WC: 1.8k
✦ Summary: You got your hands on the cute church boy.
✦ CW: Blasphemy, corruption kink, oral sex (f & m rec.), knife play [blood], edging, reader is wearing a scream mask, name used: baby, my dear, sweetie
✦A/N: I'm nervous asf to post this. I suppose that this will be my small contribution to kinktober. This is pure blasphemy, you have been warned. I love scream mask fics but I haven't come across one where reader wears the mask so I did this :)) I listened to Sex Concept by Sofia Isella while writing this. Enjoy!+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ Happy Halloween♡
✦Masterlist✦
“Stop teasing, baby, c’mon” Jeongin sat in the front row of the messy pews. The muted sound of rain outside dripping through the cracked ceiling of the church only accentuated the tension pulsing in his veins.
“Teasin’? Me?” You smile, one hand pressed firm against the soaked fabric of his shirt. “You want it that badly?” His eyes find yours but they lack control. His pupils shake with submission while his mouth waters with the remnant taste of your tongue.
“You know I do.” He smiles in a futile attempt to prompt you to take action. You climb into his lap, your fishnets stretching over the thick of your thighs. There’s a sinister grin tugging at the corner of your lips that the mask shields from Jeongin’s view. It was his idea for you to wear it. It was his idea for you to play the villain that his family paints you as while you drain his sanity from him.
“Beg.” You tilt your head, leaning in so close that he can nearly kiss the mask.
“You really want me to beg?” He teases, trying to bite back at you with a smile that you swiftly swipe away when your fingers lock in his damp black strands. “Please.” He moans, falling into your desire.
“Ah, Innie, you can do better than that.” You shift in his lap, your fingers tighten around the hilt of the knife in your hand. A dainty little thing, sharper than your tongue.
“Baby, please, do it. I wan’ you to.” You pull his head back further, exposing his neck to you. His adam’s apple bobs, spit pools in his mouth and he swallows it quickly, smoothly. “Use it.”
“Here? In front of all of them?” You point the knife behind you and Jeongin’s eyes follow, landing on the dimly lit statues of figures who would surely judge him for this. The saints watch him, judge him. “You wanna sin, sweetie?” You whisper and he whimpers, a fair exchange.
You run the tip of the knife up his arm oh so softly, he’d miss it if he didn’t want it so badly. His stomach does cartwheels while his fingers claw at the distressed wood beneath him in a desperate attempt to get a grip on something. Anything but himself, he’s a goner.
You bring the point to his shoulder and press in just a bit, just enough to nick that pretty skin you littered with deep purple a few hours ago. “Shit.” He hisses, groaning at the pinch of pain.
“You like this shit, don’t you?” He fights with himself, his fucked up dreams conflicting with his squeaky clean image. He’s a good boy, a man of God and moral actions and blah blah blah. “Tell me.”
“I like it.” He groans, his heavy lids fluttering shut with a trust he should not let you have.
“Thought you were a good boy?” You laugh, the sound muffles behind the mask just a bit but echoes in the empty church. You grind into him ever so slightly, milking an unbecoming sound from his swollen lips. They’re stained red like yours, covered in the color of sin and it matches his skin better than that holy glow ever could.
“I’m not.” He whimpers, trying to convince himself more than you. You let his hair go, allowing him lift his head but he keeps it tilted back, looking up at you like the angel you aren’t. “Please, one more time. Harder, deeper, something.”
“God, you’re pretty when you beg.” You scratch him with the knife, creating a crimson line from the curve of his shoulder down to his bicep. He shivers and groans, the tips of his fingers find your waist and dig in.
“Ah, fuck, b-baby.” He’s putty, melting and stretching before your eyes. The blood starts running down his skin and you watch it. You admire it. So pretty, so pure and all fucking yours. You bring the knife up and catch the droplets and smear it over the silver, watching how it thins and collects.
“This.” You point the knife to him. “Is a sacrifice, my dear.” You feel Jeongin shift under you as he watches you play with the blade. His breath hitches for just a second, one sweet second when you point the knife at him. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”
He nods, hypnotized by the forbidden nature of your actions. Entranced by the girl that his parents warned him about. “Yes... yours.” He breathes with a shake that you don’t miss. Your eyes run over his face, committing his pathetic blush to memory.
You slip the mask up, revealing your pretty face decorated with running mascara and red stained lips. “I am the only God that you will ever believe in.” The look in your eyes could control a crowd but the hopeless wreck of a man beneath you will have to do for now. “Say it.”
You slither down and off of his lap, sinking onto your knees and into a puddle of rainwater that welcomes you with a stinging chill. Jeongin watches you with a reverence that he’s borrowed from every Saturday he sat in bible study worshiping gods who could never excite him how you do.
His inhale is shaky, his exhale is heavy but every word that leaves his mouth is as light as a feather. “You are the only god that I will ever believe in.” His voice trembles with a guilt that’ll have him clutching those pretty blessed beads his momma gave him for a week.
“Again” His belt is already undone for you, his button popped and his cock aching and waiting for your touch. The feeling of your palm massaging his pulsing length has him gasping before he can speak again. “Again, c’mon.”
“You are the only god I’ll ever believe in.” It’s a moan, a profession of his fucked up devotion. His chest is heaving with anticipation as your fingers sneak into his pants like a spider and wrap around his drooling length. “What do we say to that, baby?”
The squeak of the pews as he moves to the edge, holding onto the wood for dear life punctuates each whimpering moan that he lets pass his chapped lips. “H-hallelujah.” That’s it, you lean forward rewarding him for his manners. Your tongue runs up his cock, base to tip and his eyes go white as they roll back. A classic case of possession.
“Again” Your tongue swirls around his drooling tip and he moans, louder this time, “Hallelujah.” You take more of him with each moan, rewarding him for letting you bend his morals into pretty origami animals you’ll rip apart in a week or two.
“God, look at you.” The laugh that vibrates through the air is sinister enough to make Jeongin blush. His weak knees shake and his spine shivers as you jerk his reddened cock. You turn around, smiling at the statues, “Look at him.”
Jeongin, whines, digging the toe of his sneakers into the worn floor as his orgasm climbs up his spine. “You are so fucking…” You stop, taking your hands off of him and making the poor boy cry in protest. “Easy.” It’s quick but you swear that you see a tear fall. He wipes it away, pulling himself together only to fall apart as soon as his gaze meets yours.
“This is a church.” You scoff, feigning disgust. “You’re supposed to be worshiping.” He watches as you rise to your feet before him, his core trembles, his cock jumps. He’s hooked. “Well? Go on.”
Water sloshes beneath your feet, Jeongin barely breathes and you look at him expectantly. There’s not a single word that leaves your mouth but the order is loud and clear. He pushes himself forward. His knees meet the floor and he sinks. Those pretty brown eyes are begging for validation in a den of a dragon. His hands ball in his lap as he fights the urge to wrap his long fingers around his drooling length. The kiss of the cold air makes it jump until you step forward and assume responsibility.
The pew squeaks when you prop your sneaker clad foot up on it. Your soiled panties are on full display under your skirt, peaking through your fishnets and Jeongin swears for a second that you really are God. The brittle beseech of ‘can I’ that he musters up makes you smile fondly. He repeats it when you don’t answer, begging into the damp air.
“Go ahead.” You nudge, handing him the dainty blade. He takes it with trembling hands and cuts the strings to your tights in a messy pattern that grants him access to where you're dripping. He’s entranced by the slick that connects your cunt to the soaked gusset of your panties when he pulls them to the side but he only admires it for a second before his tongue is moving through your folds like a snake in water.
He traces prayers and memorized verses onto your clit, tangling his tongue in spit and arousal so fervently that he almost makes you chant to him. “Right there, right there.” Your fingers grab and tighten in his hair, pushing his firm against you. Your eyes roll back, the demon of desire climbs up your spine and you’re reeling; holding onto the whimpering mess below you to keep your balance.
The taste of you is throwing Jeongin closer to the finish line with each messy swipe of his tongue over your cunt. His grip on the handle of that dainty blade tightens, the tip piercing his thigh with a bite that makes him keen.
“Innie.” The grind of your hips against his tongue makes him drool, it’s a sight to see. You run your hand through your hair and that long forgotten mask falls into a puddle behind you.
Your orgasm shows itself to you in the stars of your pleasure and you welcome it, trembling and moaning loud and wild as you cum all over Jeongin’s tongue. He moans, pressing the tip of the knife just a smidge harder against his skin. He plants sloppy kisses against your clit, helping you ride out your high while his own climax rushes over him. His cock jumps, red and weeping with thick ropes of cum. You pull back, detaching him from your core to watch him wreath against the cold floor; coming undone on his knees in front of the angels while you stand and watch.
“Look at me.” His eyes blink open, his pupils glazed over and glassy. He’s a vision - Lips swollen and slick with your cum, cock twitching and dripping onto the floor. “What do we say?”
He swallows hard, moving his tongue over his lips to collect your taste before he whispers.
“Hallelujah”
Divider made by @rookthornesartistry
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