Reblog If You Want To Be Bent Over An Altar, Made To Drool On The Holy Books And Carefully Pressed Linens,

I woke up at 5 am from a nightmare, made this, then passed out again

They should make maid cafes for people with priest kinks

sorry i covered your neck in dark hickeys and clamped down hard on your throat like limp prey while i was giving you a handjob. you whimpered a little too soft and i blacked out and believed myself to be a feral dog in possession of an entire rotisserie chicken

lookin fresh

bro just woke up

full version on my bluesky and my nsfw art twitter

fuck it all. medic tf2 big naturals

*unzipping your pants* so like do you think the universe crafted your soul to merge with mine? *pulls them down* like do you think you’re made to inevitable be mine? *looks up at you with my mouth full* hm?

why is it always the fancylad boy-king type whos the bottom. maybe his tough loyal knight who uses his body to protect and defend him and lives to serve him wants to get railed

touching grass isnt enough. i need to fuck a priest as he mutters prayers of forgiveness for falling into lustful temptation in-between his shaky moans. i need to make the beacon of god moan like a harlot-

YOU GET IT!!!!!!

Sight

[semi-linked to this]

You reach the office door sooner than you intend to, quieter than you expect to. You see him.

You see the way he strokes himself with a rhythm that shows the signs of growing erratic soon, his free hand shaking as it drops from his mouth and grips the arm of his chair…

…you shouldn't be watching this. Something tells you to step back, turn around and go the way you came, to pretend you hadn't seen him in the first place. Rarely did the man ever seem to be granted a chance of privacy, he deserved this indulgence more than anyone--

The notion comes to a halt, sends a deep spark of warm shock through your veins when you catch the furrow of his brow, the tint to his cheeks in the glow of moonlight as, with a gasp of a breath, he moans your name.

Oh.

His free hand shoots back up to muffle his mouth as your name fades to a whimper on his tongue. His head tilts back just so as his hand curls to a fist, knuckles pressed to his lips and neck bare enough to catch his Adam's apple…fuck, he's beautiful like this, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, slacks down to his knees, his waistcoat and shirt unbuttoned just enough to keep his heaving chest from straining against the fabric, hair tussled and sweat along his brow as he pants…

The heat carries itself to you. Fuck. Shit. You feel the need to get out of here before you risk embarrassing both of yourselves--

"Gott, du fühlst dich göttlich…"

Fuck. Shit.