Father Malfoy- a D.M. SMUT
Synopsis: Father Malfoy shows you what biblical duties truly mean when he finds out about your engagement
Warnings: 18+ (abusive relationship, praise kink, domination, derogatory names + language, unprotected sex, cheating, restraining, power play?) religious themes
PLEASE NOTE: THIS IS INSPIRED BY ANOTHER FIC ON A03 SO INSPIRATION/SIMILARITY COMES FROM THEM <3 (@Cuntoid so give them some love)
A/N: I’m backkk my little devils ;))
“It won’t change anything.”
You stare at the ground, kicking your foot in an anxious manner. Absentmindedly chewing on your fingernails as you try very hard to avoid eye contact with the person in front of you. The words repeatedly stuck in your head made you furrow your eyebrows.
You hear no response and take it to finally break the long eye contact with the ground to stare into his cold, lifeless, grey orbs. He’s sitting back in his chair, leg crossed onto the other yet they are still spread apart enough to see his body. One hand covers his mouth and he stares back at you hardly even blinking.
“A ring won’t undo your sins, let alone playing pretend as his wife won’t make you any less of a whore.”
The sun peeks through the curtains and lands upon the diamond ring that envelops your finger. His eyes trail down towards the ring, and you can see his jaw tense and his eyes grow in fever. Your eyes follow his to the same destination. The rainbow shadows dance along the room, and a prism of light hits his eyes just right.
"Isn't jealousy a sin, Father?"
He scoffs aloud, breaking your trance from the ring and back into his familiar eyes. "What could I possibly be jealous of? That ring may show onlookers you are claimed, but how are you even claimed? Mentally? Hardly. Spiritually?" He pauses, and the sound of your heart thumps so loud it makes the hairs on your body sit upright. "I know you aren't claimed physically, for what you wear when you visit me states otherwise doesn't it?"
You shift in your seat, not because you are nervous, no, because you know he's right. The skirts and dresses you wear make it more accessible for him. However, recently, the length begs the question of how accessible you want it to be.
He straightens his posture, folds his hands on the desk, and awaits your rebuttal, knowing it is in vain.
" I never said you didn't love him. I'm simply stating your sins and how they contribute to making you a whore."
You suck in a breath and try to rack that brain of a way to respond to him but to no avail. You come up with no words and soon the real anxiety sets in.
He slowly gets up and rounds his desk, stopping next to you before kneeling. Even on one knee, his figure looms over you, powers over you. His long fingers mindless dance upon your arm as his eyes reach deep into yours.
"You sound jealous...incredibly jealous."
"Yet, you come here and seek refugee in my warmth. Find ways to pay for your sins. To worship me. I know what you need, and your soon-to-be husband won't ever know you like I do."
He licks his lips and shows his canines--causing you to grip the chair. His eyes dip down to watch your motions before slowly reaching your eyes again. His hot breath tickles your arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
"If you were some unimportant whore from the streets, I'd congratulate you. But I've tasted...felt how your warm flesh sends me an invitation to my own demise."
The hand that laid beside him now creeps upon your thigh, making you spread your legs all without breaking focus. You suck a moan when his slender fingers reach your entrance to rub a delicious movement against your bare core but it never reaches where you wish it would. He’s teasing you, showing you how he owns you through simple games.
"Does his touch affect you so? Does a simple touch from him make you spread your legs? Does it?" You nod a no weakly, and his eyes swirl with pride. Your hand grips the chair even harder, and his teeth come into contact with your plush thighs. Nail indents would be left over from how hard his nails dug into you. Claiming you. Marking you up for him. Only him.
His hot tongue draws circles in the inner of your thighs. Right now, your heart is felt between your legs, and your mouth is watered from the attention you are receiving. You yelp as his teeth nip and bite, leaving hard marks just to go over them with his tongue.
You could feel how wet you were and almost taste it in your mouth. The smell flooded the room as his head neared your aching entrance. Butterflies filled your stomach so that your toes could curl. With little strength, you call out his name.
His name was so breathy it hardly was heard. It was a mere whisper, yet it tore his actions to a halt as he looked up through his lids.
His voice echoed in your head as his warmth left your cold body. He waited for you to listen to him, and with shaky legs you stood up just like he asked. His nails dig shape as he pulls you around the desk, grabbing the back of your hair to drop you down.
The cold wood made your feverous body shiver as your hands scrambled to find something to hold onto. You swear you could feel the wood vibrate from how fast your heart was thumping. Cold fingers touched your waist and made you shiver from the sensation.
Suddenly you feel thankful to be at the desk and to have something hold your weak body up. "Does he ever take you on furniture or is the bed the only salvation you have encountered?"
"He...He wants to save it till marriage."
A hum followed by a pause. Another pause passes before he answers you.
"He hasn't even taken a bite out of the forbidden fruit? But, instead, he awaits it like a present wrapped in a neat little bow? Does he know I have tasted your nectar or that you aren't as innocent as you claim?"
"He doesn't know, Draco."
A harsh pull of your hair has you choking on air as he pulls your head back to the point of snapping it. His face nears yours as he growls in your ear.
"You will call me by my rightful name!"
His once cool grey eyes have daggers embedded deep within as he stares you down. Tears blur your vision as you try to answer the man but all words become gargled. Instead, you let out a whimper to signal how sorry you were to disrespect him.
His warm tongue darts from behind his canines and he licks a strip up your jugular. His other hand reaches down your dress to twist your now rock-hard nipple. A moan escapes your throat and his iron-clad grip slowly lets go of your hair.
"Apologize for your mistake slut."
"I'm-I'm sorry Father..."
A finger dances along your spine and reaches your dress before he hikes the material high enough to show him what he wants to see. Your fingers grip the desk harder in anticipation of what is to come next.
"No panties underneath? My my what a true common whore you really are!"
A brush against your now-exposed entrance has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Rubbing through your folds, he groans at the sight of what truly wet with desire you are. A gasp and an arch in the back as his finger enters till his cold ring reaches your hole.
"Fuck...so wet for me aren't you?"
You nod so quick that your brain can't register what he actually said. The feeling was too good--the pumping action builds a band inside of you. Just a little more and it would break.
But the feeling stops suddenly as you clench around nothing. A pout reaches your features but turns back into pleasure at the sound of a belt.
His belt buckle snaps with such a delicious sound you swear you can feel it. A tap is felt on one of your cheeks and you spread your legs farther without a word even being said.
"Good girl...beg me for it."
"Please, Father! Please! Plea-oh!"
A quick slam of his thick cock has your pelvis squashed up against the wood in a painful movement. He sets out a quick pace, one that has you moaning and babbling incoherent words. Sharp quick thrusts soon turn into pleasure as your body shapes around him perfectly.
"Look at how quick your body adjusted for me. Only I can make your body twitch and shake. Let me make you mine. Let me fill you up completely."
His groans intertwine with your moans as his hand finds your neck and squeezes it. This makes you clench around him and you hear a sharp intake of air enter his lips.
His grip falters on your neck but he makes up for it by shoving his fingers deep in your mouth. His fingers fill up your mouth as much as his cock does. Salvia drips down into a puddle on the desk.
The hand on your waist is so tight you know a bruise will develop later. You could care less in fact, with the way his cock brushing your stomach makes you feel drunk. His thrusts become more erratic and that shakes the desk. He chases after his own high and could feel how close you were getting to yours.
He stops his motions and snatches his fingers from your warm mouth. His hands grip your sides and flip you on your back. You scream out as his cock slams back into you. You watch the sweat drip from his forehead as he ruts so hard.
The grip around your neck is back but much greater. You can hardly breathe and spots line your vision.
"Tell me how good it feels."
You babble words and sounds as you can feel the band starting to break. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your legs shake with intensity.
"Yes, milk my cock! Let me fill that womb and see how fruitful you are in return."
Tears form in the corner of your eyes as his thrusts hit your now sensitive body. His thumb enters your mouth and he moans as you take in it.
Soon his thrusts become sloppy and you know how close he is. His eyebrows furrow together and his head is thrown back as he shoots white thick ropes inside your gummy walls.
His cock twitches as he rides his high, slowing down in the process. He slowly takes out his white-painted member before getting back dressed. He remains his composure and looks as if he didn't commit a sin just now. He looks back at you and then down to see his efforts drip down onto the desk.
He scoops it back up before plugging your hole with his fingers. You look up at him confused.
"We wouldn't want my efforts to just end up on the desk. No, it must stay inside you." He hums in agreement.
"What would your husband think if you were to get pregnant from my seed?" You look at him through half-lidded eyes too tired to even move.
"Would he be mad? Pissed? Surprised even?" Tears prick your eyes as you listen to him talk.
"Don't cry little dove. I have big plans for you. Very big indeed."
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