#OOC —– come by the church to pray

[cillivnz]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑨𝑪𝑹𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻

[𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪]

PAIRING — PRIEST!NANAMI KENTO x NUN!READER

SYNOPSIS — you shift across continents hoping to leave all behind that drifted you apart from the Lord, only to catch the sole reason of your departure waiting for you patiently, with a rosary in one hand and his cock in the other.

WORD COUNT — 2878

WARNINGS — NSFW. MODERN AU. OOC!KENTO (kinda). RELIGIOUS IMAGERY, THEMES & RELIGION IN GENERAL. BLASPHEMY, sacrilege, impure thoughts, cursing, sins & sinning, sex in a church, indecent use of the confessional, DUBCON. oral (m! receiving), fingering, clit-play, biting, nipple/breast-play, unprotected and penetrative sex (p! in v!), overstimulation, against a wall (?), voyeurism, degrading. NANAMI HAS A GOD COMPLEX. there is repetitive mentions of religious themes throughout the smut, from praying to other things.

A/N — GOOD GOD. i’m asking you all for forgiveness, but i needed to do this. i intended it for leon kennedy but something in me snapped and i changed it to a nanami kento fiction, WHICH IS WHY THERE IS MENTION OF A CHRIS REDFIELD, i was too lazy to change it and also i didn’t want to incorporate too much from the JJKverse, so we’ll just leave Redfield at that.

i am NOT anti-religion, this is a common fantasy and i just wished to try my hand at this sinister trope. please refer to the warnings and DO NOT PROCEED if anything mentioned makes you uncomfortable. apologies in advance for any inaccurate detail written. not proofread.

art credits — unknown [pinterest]

LISTENING TO: ‘THE SACRAMENT’ — HIM

[therefore the title].

𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘, but you knew the Lord only wanted what was best for you, and so a new chapter in your life had begun.

A woman above materialism, you leave with only your bible and habit, but of course, you carried the last memory of your past life— a photograph your Sisters took of you and Father Redfield from your hometown, the church you had sworn celibacy to, near the Arklay Mountains.

You loved Chris— Father Redfield, the way you’d love the angels of the almighty, but at times this love prevented you from preaching, causing you to often ponder on your style of living, and the fact that doubt settled in your god-driven mind became the primary reason why you decided to move away, all the way to Tokyo.

Your feelings for Father Redfield made you question your vows to chastity, and you knew at once you needed to get away. So, you left the mountainous foliage at once and settled for the noisy city.

Upon arriving, you were welcomed by a ‘Sister Nobara”, with a soft face and piercing gaze, but none that lingered.

She walked you through the large and lonely halls of the massive church. The infrastructure of your hometown’s place of worship couldn’t compare to Tokyo’s, perhaps the difference in population was the reason why.

Throughout the walk to the nave, you felt an ominous sense of being watched— no, preyed upon, but you and your naïveté blamed it on your nerves. It worsened while you said your prayers, seeking forgiveness for the note on which you left: that doubt and urgency to succumb to hellish pleasures with the priest that couldn’t even reciprocate a smile back to you.

“Ah, there comes Father Kento,” Sister Nobara interrupted the last of your calls to the Lord, the one where you beseeched to attain enough strength to never succumb to lust. You quickly muttered a, “Amen”, and turned to Nobara. You looked at her for a brief moment, before your gaze followed hers and landed on the most devilishly handsome man you had ever seen.

Hell, you had to leave your home over a man who, now, you realise, isn’t even half as attractive as the man towering over you.

You backed away when the sudden proximity hit you, your subconscious mind immediately associating that eerie feeling in your gut with the presence of this man.

“Hello,” his deep voice broke the silence. “Greetings, Father,” you quickly averted your lingering stare onto the wooden floor. There was a stroke of amusement tainted in his tone, “Sister Nobara tells me you come from the Arklay Mountains.”

“She’s right,” you confirmed, still not eyeing him.

He nodded along, eyes still etched on your face.

“Father, if you could excuse me.” Sister Nobara suddenly spoke, causing you to look up at the departing woman. A “But—” was all you could mutter, before Kento put two-and-two-together and figured you sought out your quarters. “I don’t mind showing you around.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, Father.” You laughed, nervously, obvious to the subtle but definite bite of the Priest’s lower lip at the sound.

“No problem, follow me.”

The walk wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it to be; it was worse.

You couldn’t help but glance repeatedly at the seemingly older, definitely taller and the most handsome man you had ever dreamt of, and the fact that he hadn’t turned to look at you, nonetheless utter a single word, aggravated you.

He gracefully halted, and you knew you’d reached your quarters.

“There we are,” he announced, opening the door to let you in before him.

“It’s not much but—”

“It’s perfect.” You interrupted him with a warm smile, genuinely pleased with where you were to be stationed. Father Kento seemed pleased with your response, the small smile that broke out gave it away.

You instantly got to settling in, not that you had many things to place. Just your clothes, holy books and—

“Who is that?” Asked Father Kento the minute your hand reached for the framed memory.

“Father Redfield from the Arklay Church.” You spoke in monotone.

“Is he why you left?”

You didn’t have to answer.

The way you clutched the photograph tighter gave Nanami Kento all the answers he needed.

“Confessional is always open.”

“𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍.” The words rang in your ears, floating in the whirlpool of your disturbed mind throughout supper, and the fact that Father Kento was nowhere in sight was no solace. You decided to say, “Fuck it,” in a god-abiding way, and made your way over to the said confessional.

You step inside the wooden booth, steadying your breath you heard movement on the other side.

“Good evening, Sister.”

“I’m glad you obeyed me.” He said, seemingly in nonchalance, but you could picture a cocky smirk on his handsome face.

“Yes, father,” was all you could muster up.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.” He said so casually, yet compelling enough to get you to open up.

“You were right, Father Kento,” you sighed.

“It’s Chris—Father Redfield.”

“He’s, uh, the reason why I left.”

“Why would a man of the Lord drive you to that limit, Sister?” You heard that raspy voice of Father Kento’s inquire.

All you could muster up was a sigh. Talking about your feelings was something you’ve always struggled with, never there being a crucial need to do so, to redeem, like tonight.

“Because I would find myself thinking about him.”

“In what way?” Father Kento asked almost immediately, not wasting a breath.

“In impurity, lust, and love.”

The sigh on the other wooden end of the booth was almost unheard by you. “Describe them.” Father Kento broke the silence after a moment of halting. “W-what?”

“Describe your thoughts. What did you want to do with him?” You heard fiddling, but chose to ignore it.

“I would— would think about him and I, romantically. If and how things would’ve been different had we not chosen this life. Then, it was natural for excitement to settle in when he’d gently brush past me,” you oddly found yourself at ease, tranquil and nostalgic as you reminisce over the past.

“What about lust?” He interrupted in a tight voice.

“Uh,”

“I thought of his large, aged and veiny hands: grabbin—grabbing me, groping my… breasts…”

The ruffling on the other side silenced you, and when Father Kento noticed, he spoke in a stern tone, “Sister,”

“I need you to let it all out.”

So, you took a deep breath, and did exactly that.

You tell the priest how badly you’d grown accustomed to that ache between your thighs, how damp you would feel while merely observing the older man casually interact with the churchgoers; the tinge of bitterness that coursed through your veins, replacing the electricity that he’d often ignite, but now that you see him caressing the arm of another woman, much like the way he’d do to you, you’d find yourself unravelled in the sin of envy.

“I would find myself wanting to start a family with Father Redfield— by any means necessary. I would’ve wanted nothing more than to feel him inside me, carry his load inside me each night, sleeping in the warmth of his arms while his cum leaks out of me, still puffy and sore but in the need of more—”

You heard him groan.

He fucking groaned.

Your sinful ramblings would’ve persisted had the feeling in your gut not begged for you to shut the fuck up that very instance.

“Tell me, Sister,”

“Was it Father Redfield you felt such vulgarity for, or perhaps, just the thought of a superior— One with the Lord— indulging in you?”

You were speechless. Surely there was no insinuation in his sultry tone, right?

“I— I don’t know, Father.” You cleared your throat, thighs involuntarily rubbing together. You raised your palm to bite the back of it, softly, but enough to distract you. A habit you thought you had rid yourself of, but it still lingers.

“Oh, I think you do.”

Before you could deny the blatant accusation, your eyes land on Father Kento through the open wooden network.

You had now realised that this was the first time throughout your confession that you looked up— at him, and the sight awaiting you had caused you to clutch your rosary and gasp the first profanities you’ve dared to say in decades.

Father Kento sat on a ruby, velvet sofa, while his robe lifted up to his stomach. The first thing your eyes trail to is the smug, sinister look on his face, his slicked-back, disheveled hair, his glimmering eyes and pink lips. Then, his broad neck lacking the amice that is supposed to adorn it. Between his thick thighs, stood tall and angry the most vicious thing you’ve seen.

What made it worse was that he had a hand wrapped around the leaking tip, and in that very hand, was his rosary.

“Like what you see, Sister?” He called you out, and you immediately averted your gaze.

You looked to the ceiling, folding your hands and dropping to your knees.

“No, none of that.” Father Kento ‘tsk’ed at the sound of your prayers, making his way over to your side of the confessional.

“As pretty as you look while begging for mercy,”

“ 𝑰 ’𝑴 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑮𝑶𝑫 𝑵𝑶𝑾. ”

He grabbed ahold of your joined hands, opening them just enough to wrap them around the girth of his cock.

“Pray,” he said, squeezing your cheeks together. When your mouth forcefully opened, he shoved his tip past your plump lips, and you instinctively allowed more inside.

“Good girl.” He groaned, motioning your hands back in forth on his cum-slick cock.

Blasphemy coursed through your blood and all thoughts and prayers left your mind, and you twirled your tongue around his cruel tip.

He growled, “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” pushing back your veil and bandeau to let your hair out and grip it.

“Oh, you have no idea what a punishment the past few hours had been,”

“I’d been doing so good. ‘So good,” his voice was weak yet hoarse; he damn near lost his mind when he hit the back of your throat, biting back a whimper.

“I was on the path to salvation, but you,”

“You just had to show up and send me spiralling to hell.”

He plunged into your tight throat one last time, savouring the sight of your hollowed cheeks and plump lips wrapped around his shaft. You bat your long, thick lashes at him and his heart skips a beat when he looks into those doe eyes of yours.

“Get up,” he yanks you up by the arm.

“Strip.”

You were hesitant while bidding farewell to your attire, but there was unknown fervency in your movements.

Once bare, you couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“This is so wrong—”

“—But do you want it?” He asked, his was was stern and soft, his recollected breath made his velvety voice return.

“More than anything I’ve ever known.” You answered in all honesty; only truth came out of you in the home of the Lord.

There was a soft smirk on Father Kento’s face that widened into a genuine smile upon hearing your words. “Come here, then.” He motioned for you close the eternal gap between the two of you, and you nearly leaped into his arms, the distance growing unbearable.

Kissing you, tasting himself on you, Father Kento spoke in between kisses, “I don’t want a fucking word out of you, okay? You’re going to take cock quietly.”

“We want this to stay between us and God, yeah?”

You nodded, letting him corner you against the wooden box.

His eyes darted up to yours and then trailed down to your body. His frustration aggravated at the sight of you, and the fact that you’re the Lord— his master’s forbidden fruit heightens his senses with carnal instincts, making the Goddess in front of him even more insatiable.

“You know I’d have taken my time with you, right?” He nods, enchanting your dumb and dazed state to follow him.

“But you understand how badly I need to be inside you?” You nod, you need it, too.

“And you’ve sworn in celibacy?” He quirks an eyebrow, but the minute you felt the slightest touch of his fingertips along your velvety folds, you forgot all your vows at once.

“Answer me.” His voice carried a trace of humour, but stoic nonetheless, finding your clit and pressing his thumb onto it.

“Y-yes. Yes.” You bit down on your lip and the priest nearly lost it then and there. His free hand meets your face and tucks the pillowy lip out of your teeth’s grasp, stroking it back and forth.

His hand left your cunt, earning pathetic whimpers from you. It went back to his cock, jerking it a few times, leaving you mesmerised, before he gathered the slick that leaked out of the tip and smeared it onto your pussy.

“Prepping you.” He simply grunted, easing one finger into your tight hole. Your walls show hospitality and gladly accept the digit curling inside them.

You were a virgin, but masturbation wasn’t foreign to you.

“More,” you ached, and he obliged.

By the end of your aching heat, you had (barely) accustomed two of his long, slender yet thick fingers. The fervent circles of his thumb on your clit were torturous.

On the brink of your orgasm, spiralling into ecstasy, Father Kento pulled you out. Like a sinister saviour, he pulled you out of enlightenment.

“No! Please— Why?” You blabbered bullshit, too fucked out to care about anything but release.

“I told you I need to be inside you.” His voice was hoarse, the lust evident in his tone.

Watching you right on the edge of unravelling had him throbbing and twitching.

“I need to feel that tight cunt.” He was damn near hyperventilating. “Baby, I’ll go crazy.” He chokes out a sob when you grab his cock by the angry tip and align it with your hole.

He smiled at you, causing you to clench.

How was this blonde bastard so handsome?

Lifting you up with sheer ease, he let your legs wrap around his waist, your arms crossing over his neck, and his dick plunging into you, inch by inch.

You thanked God the tiny booth was tall, so you had enough space to let your head fall back without it touching the ceiling, courtesy of the man balls deep inside you, standing at 6’0.

The snug fit knocked the air out of both of you. Tears ran down your flushed cheeks like a hot spring, the passion with which he embraced you, devouring your warmth against the cold wood set every cell in your body ablaze.

“You’re so fucking— tight. ‘Hot, tight pussy squeezing so nicely around my cock.” Father Kento began pounding into you. Your legs had began to tremble already, but your vicelike grip on his waist and broad shoulders didn’t falter.

His fat cock fucked into you with desperation, the carnality of being wanted so much, so sinisterly by a man who had sworn chastity makes your soul quiver.

You’ll need to make one hell of an apology to the Lord.

As if reading your mind, the blonde priest spoke in a hoarse voice, “Pray.”

“For your sake and mine, you better fucking pray.”

So, you join your hands and close your eyes, bring Father Kento’s face closer to your chest. He closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of your soft breasts embracing his face like the pillowy clouds of heaven he’d never see.

With every thrust, your would slide up the wall, cunt gushing along his length. You said your prayers silently but couldn’t help letting out wanton cries when the tip of his cock would hit a certain spot inside you, and hit it repeatedly.

You were too far gone to hear him say, “Put it in my mouth,” not knowing what he referred to, until he hit the flesh right above your breast. You struggled to let go of his neck, but grabbed the supple flesh and lead it to his ravenous mouth, like a lamb being led to slaughter.

His hot mouth on your nipple; tugging, licking, circling, and nibbling. His cock inside you, fucking you at godspeed. Two of his fingers on your clit, rubbing maniacally; all had you coming undone in seconds.

“Oh, Kento!” You moaned pornographically, driving him to the point of release and insanity when the rhythmic contractions of your cunt pulsated around his twitching cock, and in mere seconds, Father Kento buried his seed deep inside you.

“Good god.” He groaned, parting with your nipple with a ‘pop’ and overstimulating you with slow, deep thrusts; his fingers never once leaving your clit.

“That—”

“—Needs another confession altogether.”

And so every night you’d find yourself cornered up in the confessional, apologising for same mistake you’ve been making every night, with the man whose forgiveness you beg for, on your knees, and repentance he delivers with a rosary in one hand and his cock in the other.

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

Love Thorns All Over This Rose

Words: 2577

Warnings: angst, talks of a miscarriage, body image, talks of difficulty staying pregnant, mention of what is technically a still-birth, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-medicating, accidental suicide attempt (this is will make sense if you read it), probably poor writing and OOC characters but whatever

DC Masterlist Main Masterlist Join My Taglist

IF THERE IS A WANT FOR A PART 2, I WILL DO ONE, IF NOT, THEN THIS STAYS AS A ONE-SHOT!

I mention Y/N goes to a church to pray, it is described more as a Christian or Catholic one (I really don't know the difference and I apologize) as she lights a candle before she prays. If you wish to skip that part, it starts with "Y/N hurried up the steps of the Cathedral." and ends with "Y/N nodded silently before turning and walking out.". I do also mention that the reader themselves aren't very religious (but grew up with it so reverted back to old practices to see if it helped)

Alfred is also dead in this (don't ask why he just is) so that's why he isn't here!

The POV here isn't really consistent. It jumps between being with the Batkids, Bruce, and Y/N's. I tried to make it flow though so hopefully that works!

 I feel like I should mention:

Bruce and Y/N's ages don't matter (I'm not in the mood to deal with that) but; Dick is 31 (and married to Kori but that's not too important), Jason is 25, Tim is 22, Damian is 15, Cass is 24, and Steph is 23

I also am not too familiar with Duke, so that is why he isn't there much. Mostly just mentioned

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

7:25 AM

The kids watched as Y/N was silent as she put the plate down in front of Bruce's empty seat. They all noted how fake her smile looked as she looked up at them. "Alright, I will see you kids later!"

They all watched as she walked out of the dining room and once they knew she was out of earshot, they started talking.

"Did she eat anything?"

It was Jason, he had been the last down (well...outside of Tim) so he only saw her putting the plates down and ushering them to eat.

Dick shook his head, he had seen her the entire time she made breakfast. Fully clothed, which was unusual as she usually just made breakfast in her pajamas with her hair occasionally brushed. But not today. Today her hair was done, makeup was on, she was dressed as if she was working.

But everyone in that house knew she was still off after what happened, even though it had been 3 months since the incident.

Damian flicked at his food, "Ummi was supposed to take me to school today."

Dick smiled at Damian, "I can, Dami. Mom is just...preoccupied."

Damian hmphed and continued to play with his food. Dick was concerned for his younger brother. He knew that while he himself was close with the woman he had allowed to become his mother, Damian was so much more as she was really the only person who never got mad at him or made fun of him when he didn't understand something.

Jason abruptly stood, "Since mom isn't here, I'm just gonna go."

Dick raised a brow, "Really Jason? You're just gonna leave after--"

"Hey, we've been over this before Dick. I come because mom asks me to." He shrugged as he put his jacket on, "Plus, I'm going to follow her."

Stephanie snorted, "She'll kill you when she catches you."

"If she catches me. If."

Steph hummed, "My bets are on she will. Y/N is always on the lookout, especially after..." She faded and looked down, regret piling up inside her as she thought of what she was about to say.

"Either way, tell us what you find Jason."

He nodded to Dick's request before heading out the side door in the kitchen. Dick tapped his hand on the table for a minute before speaking; "I'm gonna go check on dad, Damian go get everything ready and I'll meet you at the entryway, alright?"

The eldest stood, placing a gentle hand on the youngest shoulder before heading to the stairs. Dick was concerned. He had never seen his mother so...shut off. Pretending like everything was alright even though everyone who saw her could tell that she was so close to jumping off of a bridge.

The closest that he had seen her to this was back when Jason died and she broke up with Bruce. But even then, she didn't avoid things that she had already planned. Even then, she stayed committed to things.

Plus, Dick knew she had no plans today. Well...no plans except for the fact that beforehand this would have been her due date. And he knew that that was most likely what had off-set her so badly.

Dick didn't even knock before opening the door to Bruce's study. He was even speaking before his father even looked up from his computer. "Have you talked to mom?"

Bruce raised a brow, "What?"

"Mom." Dick crossed his arms, "When was the last time you and her had a real conversation?"

Bruce shrugged, "I'm not sure." He looked at Dick oddly, "What are you going on about?"

Dick let out a hard sigh, "You two are married, it is your job to take care of her. Goddammit Bruce!" He threw his hands up in anger, "You know what? Nevermind, I'm not...I'm not even going to try."

He angrily turned and walked out of the room. He didn't even understand why he even thought that talking to Bruce would help. He just walked down the stairs and remembered his promise to get Damian to school. Trying to hide the anxiety he had that he didn't know what exactly his mom was doing.

--------

9:09 AM

Jason watched Y/N walk out of the convenience store all the way in Blüdhaven. From where he was, he couldn't see what she had bought, but the moment he saw her go into the store, he had messaged Tim to watch her bank account. To watch what she was purchasing. Something felt...off as he watched her.

Jason knew that after the...accident, Y/N had been hard to reach. To talk to. He knew that she and Bruce hadn't been sleeping in the same bed since that argument he had accidently heard them having around 3 weeks after everything happened. So 4 weeks ago.

Granted...from what he had heard, it wasn't even a fight that they had had. Mostly just words being thrown at the other. Words that Jason never thought that he would hear either one say to the other. Words that he never told any of his siblings that he heard. All out of fear that one of them would panic. And while sure, he had a disdain for Tim and Damian, that didn't mean he would ever let either of them know what he had heard.

Jason wasn't sure how long he had been watching her just sit in the car before Tim finally texted him a list of what Y/N had bought in the past week. And considering Jason had seen her previous bank records for a week, it was a sure red mark with how short it was.

Tim

In the past week she's gotten a lot of sleeping pills. That's basically all that she has gotten. That plus energy and pain pills. Duke is thinking she's self-medicating again

Jason sighed as he pocketed his phone when he saw his mom driving out of the parking lot. He kept a safe distance behind her as he followed her on her drive back to Gotham.

--------

12:15 PM

Y/N hurried up the steps of the Cathedral. Trying not to make a misstep and fall as well as trying not to draw attention to herself. She closed the umbrella over her head as she walked in. Placing it in the small holder, she brushed the front of her outfit as her heels clicked on the ground when she walked down the long hall.

Last time she was there was for her mothers funeral last year. Last time she had walked up and grabbed the larger candle to dip down and light the smaller one. Her heart pounded in her chest as she kneeled, words swimming through her head and mumbling off her lips.

She herself was never very religious, but having grown up that way, she wondered if praying like she did as a child would work. Praying that things would get better and that she would get better.

She shakily did the cross on her before standing and wiping the tears that had silently fallen away from her cheeks. She turned and started to make her way out of the church when she heard a voice call out her name:

"Mrs. Wayne! We were not expecting you here today, is everything alright?"

Y/N slowly turned to face one of the Nuns, a small, fake, smile on her face. "Oh yes, everything is alright Sister. Just came here to pray for a moment. I haven't in such a long time."

The nun nodded, "Very well, I hope the Good Lord hears your prayer and makes it happen."

Y/N nodded silently before turning and walking out. She grabbed her umbrella before opening the door and walking out. She practically ran back to her car, wanting to get in before anyone saw her out.

But Cass and Steph did. They watched her speed back to her car as they sat in the cafe across the way. Stephanie shook her head, "She never goes there. Especially not since her mothers deaths."

Cass nodded as Steph continued; "Something is seriously going on with Y/N. Maybe something else has happened that we don't know."

"She's been deteriorating for the past 4 weeks."

Steph raised a bow and inquired, "4 weeks?" Cass nodded, "Huh...weird, that's around a week after she came home from the hospital." She grabbed her phone and started typing in the groupchat that only held the kids (Damian not included):

Steph

when did Bruce disappear for a few days after Y/N came home?"

It didn't take long for Tim to respond

logs say he left 35 hours after she got home and came back 83 hours later why?

Cass

She's been slowly getting worse sense then

Jason

I overheard them arguing around 3 weeks after everything happened and I know they haven't been sleeping in the same room since then. And I'm not sure how important this is; but Tim checked her bank account and she bought different pills so me, him, and Duke think she's medicating again. Or that she's going to start again.

Cass and Steph looked at each other, concern and worry was on their faces as they read Jason's last message. Something started unnerving them as they thought of the things she could possibly do if she was going to start medicating again.

----

3:25 PM

Y/N looked at her body in the mirror. Her hands came to lay on her stomach. Just like she did before. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she stared at her flatter stomach. She breathed shakily as her hands fell down to her sides.

Why?

Was all she ever asked.

Why me? Why did this happen to me?

She was so confused. She had always been good. Done everything to be a good person. But yet she still had that happen to her. Was she just not meant to be a mother?

Of course...she was one. She was a mother to 4 amazing boys and 1 beautiful girl. But still...it was different. Yes, those 5 children were hers, but that one. That singular one that she had carried for nearly 7 months had meant so much to her. Especially after being told time and time again it wouldn't happen.

It wasn't even the first time it had happened. She had had miscarriages before...but that wasn't what it was this time. The kidnapping. Bruce and the kids had found her after 2 days. The emergency c-section to save the baby.

But she knew. Of course she knew. She knew it had died.

Her baby girl. She had died before she even got the chance to live.

Y/N shakily breathed as she grabbed one of the bottles from the counter. She had thought it was the pain medication. But it hadn't been.

Sleeping meds.

Ever since it happened she had hardly been able to sleep. Nightmares of what happened still plagued her mind. Bruce yelling at her still echoed in her brain. Those...twisted words he said echoed inside of her.

She had popped a few in her mouth before dry-swallowing them and getting into the bath she had started earlier. The hot water felt like it was searing her skin, but she didn't care. She wondered if maybe she did this enough, whoever was above would forgive her of her sins and let her keep a pregnancy.

She wasn't sure how long she had stayed in the water before it became difficult to keep her head above water. Her body just felt so heavy. She wondered what pain meds she had grabbed at the store. She couldn’t remember them making her feel this way before. After a few moments of struggling to keep her head up, she felt her body sink down and under the water. But even as she felt water rush into her nose and fill her lungs, she couldn't bring herself to move and get out.

She just accepted her fate.

----

3:30 PM

Bruce sat in his office, a bad feeling settling in his stomach. Something was telling him to check on Y/N. See if she was alright. He knew she had returned around 20 minutes ago, the security cameras had caught her walking in.

He carefully stood from his desk and walked out of his office. He walked down the oddly quiet halls of the manor. A small feeling of pain and guilt started to eat at him as he got closer to the guest room she had been staying in. He knew she was struggling. He knew that she needed him today. But he just...couldn't.

He was selfish. He knew this.

He knew he was so goddamn selfish. Caring about his own feelings rather than helping his wife. She had been the one to physically go through everything. She had been the one to bear that trauma.

He had been so incredibly selfish since she had come home from the hospital. He had even begun to wonder why she even stayed in the manor.

But as he opened the door to the guest room, unrest settled inside him as he saw she wasn't there but the bathroom door was open. It was silent. He had known his wife long enough to know she never was silent in the bathroom. She almost always had music playing.

He pushed the bedroom door further open as he walked further in. Anxiety started to reach a breaking point as he walked into the bathroom.

And time felt like it moved in slow-motion as he saw her state. Her knees bent out of the water, her head under. He saw the three bottles of pills on the counter. He saw the open one read sleep on them. He ran over to the tub, grabbing under her arms and pulling her out.

He bent down, trying to listen for a heartbeat. He felt like his own heart stopped as he heard nothing. Not even a faint thump of one. He quickly moved to her side and started CPR.

Everything still felt like it was moving slower than it was as he pushed down on her sternum. Tears gathered in his eyes as he repeatedly slammed down onto her. As he breathed into her mouth. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time he finally had gotten the CPR to work. She began to cough profusely, water spluttering everywhere. He sobbed as he heard her shallow breaths break through the air.

He heard the noise of Dick's voice breaking. "Mom?"

He looked at him, seeing both him and Damian staring at the scene in front of them. Staring as their father held their mother in his arms. As tears fell from his eyes, he pleaded for them to call 911.

It was with shaky hands that Dick did it. His words sounded choked back, he kept stuttering. Trying to say what he was supposed to but his mind was running at a million miles and and half a mile a second at the same time. Everything felt fuzzy and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. All that he knew was that he walked in on his dad doing CPR on his mom.

That was all he knew.

That was all Dick knew.

[rainystarshower]

Helloo, can I request priest! Dan Feng x fem! Demon reader? Where Dan Feng is devoted to his God but ends up being in love towards reader, a demon. But he would never admit his true feelings and was in denial, and that denial led him to go the church to ask for forgiveness from his God like "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned" and just blamed reader for making him fall in love, thinking she puts a spell on him or something. He was concentrating but then reader shows up behind him to annoy him as usual (you can come up with the scenario yourself, but if you can, please make reader have a teasing/flirting side since she's a demon)

‘Lovely Sinner’

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chara : Dan Feng

cw : fluff, preist!dan feng, demon!fem reader, mentions of HCQ, modern-ish AU?, mentions of make-up, incorrect displays of Christianity (I’m Muslim lol...), ooohhh a flirtatious reader hehehehehe... Possible OOC with the lovely Dan Feng

a/n : HCQ MENTIONED EVERYBODY STAY CALM... I had 0 expectations when I started this, I HEAVILY doubted myself so try to bear with me here......... Also sorry that this is late!! Been losing motivation recently...

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-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈✩┈┈┈┈┈𝄞

‘That’s wrong.’ Dan Feng, laying on his bed, thought to himself. Over and over again, thinking about how wrong it is... How wrong it is, that — he, Dan Feng, a priest, has fallen in love with a demon? A demon of all creatures?! He’s a priest, a well respected one at that! You just appeared in his life out of nowhere, and decided to cling yourself onto Dan Feng. For what? He did nothing to deserve it — right?!

Oh but how his heart fluttered everytime he had thought about you. He was in denial, for so, sooooooo long! Now he’s here, laying in his bed as his heart almost leaps out of his throat at the constant thought of holding you! It drives him insane!!

“That’s it. It must’ve been a spell!” He says, getting up from his bed with determination. He needs to go to church, he needs to pray and ask his father above for forgiveness. That was the only logical explanation Dan Feng could think of — of course you casted a spell on him! Surely if he asks God for forgiveness, the spell will be lifted — no?

...

“Heading to church?” Yingxing asked, watching as Dan Feng was heading out. “Yes, I’ll be back as soon as possible.” His voice shaked. He couldn’t let anybody know about his greatest sin. No, not at all. After all, being in love with a demon is a far more grave sin than any other.

“Dan Feng!” You call out to him as he’s about to pray. He decides to ignore you, not even attempting to bat an eye towards you. Which, agitates you, so you call out again. Again, he ignores. He’s too focused on his prayer. He has to ask his father in heaven for forgiveness! He must!

So you stand in front of him, looking directly at his face and interrupt his prayer by slightly pushing him to the side. “You interrupted my prayer.” He scowls at you. You merely scoff in response. “Well, you were ignoring me and my good looks! I had to do something about it.” Your tail peeked out, wagging a little in joy he finally placed some attention to you. Dan Feng caught notice of your tail, and felt a bit flushed. ‘How adorable’ He thought.

And there, oh how the realization hit... You? Adorable? Blasphemy! You’re a demon! Dan Feng is devoted to his God, finding a demon such as yourself adorable is a sin, a tremendous one!

You caught him, a bit flushed, to which you took the opportunity to tease him for it. “Oh? Am I really that irresistible that you can’t help but blush?” You lean closer to him, smirk on your face, his breathing subconsciously stopping. “No, not at all. You never will be.” He refuted. What a blant lie...

You chuckle, causing his heart to skip a beat. “You and your blasted spell...” he mutters under his breath, inescapable to your ears. “Spell? What spell?” You sat yourself besides him, leaning a bit back, using your hands for support.

He stares at you, a bit perplexed. “The spell you casted on me... The one that makes my heart yearn for you.” Yearn for you? This was the first you’ve heard of this... “you’re a demon. You’re capable of such things! You caused my fantasies!” he tried defending himself.

“a spell...? Fantasies...???” you ponder to yourself. Your mind concentrated on wondering ‘what the hell is this guy talking about...?’ he stares at you in anticipation, hoping you would realize and undo whatever spell you casted upon him.

“explain your symptoms — fantasies in more detail.” you ask. In response, he obliges and starts to talk about his symptoms. The symptoms of where he wants to run his fingers through your hair, watch you put on make-up and occasionally help you, hold you as you drift off to sleep in his arms, let you do his hair in whatever style you want — all of it.

You could feel your heart thumping more and more as he continued talking about his ‘symptoms and fantasies’. Your train of thoughts was running wild, until he broke it with one simple sentence. “the spell that caused me to fall in love with you.” he admitted, looking you directly in the eyes which the moonlight was reflecting on. Hell, he looked so pretty...

You forget to speak. Dan Feng, looking down, thinks to himself. Just as you’re about to say something, he cuts it off with a quick kiss. He’s fallen in love, he can’t deny it. “It’s not a spell, is it?” Dan Feng asks you, pulling you closer to him, watching your face slightly blush before you let a grin break free. “Nope, you’re just a dummy in love” you tease. Instead of him getting upset, he grins back — kissing you once again in the church, moonlight falling upon the two of you. “Gorgeous woman, you are, aren’t you?” he surprisingly teases back. Your response being: “a thousand men could die to have me”

———————————

His grin, unfaltering as he kisses your cheek. “yet I am that one alive man, which managed to have you”

HOLY SHIT WHAT WAS THAT?????????????????????????????

[al6nst]

KISS ME, SON OF GOD. tatsumi K

urhh.. silly under read more, hehe :3

CW/SKETCH INFO : smut, semipublic, death of an angel (not actually hehe), noncon, defilement, angel reader, corruption kink, female reader, ooc tatsumi (idk his yknowww uhhh speech pattern or his mannerisms, so this is kinda just hc?), one sided pining, manhandling + slight size kink.

tatsumi kazehaya, the priest at the kazehaya church, obviously, he was amazing. the way he enlightened the audience, even the passerbys, coaxing them to come join. his soft voice when praising the Lord was unbelievable. when you talked to the other churchgoers, you found him catching glances. How odd.

A/N. i am not a religious person, and i was not raised to be a religious person! I've never been to church, so im researching. i apologize if anything is wrong ( layout n other stuff )! also, if this isnt to your liking or what you want feel free to request again!

as renovations started, you came, observing a lot more. donating to the church during hours, and normally during non working hours, and tonight was certainly a mistake. a grave mistake.

you walk through the heavy doors of the quiet, dimly lit church with a basket in your hands. heels clicking against the tile floor as you strut in between the aisle and rows of seats, the feeling of the moonlight covering your face as if it were a veil— slowly being drowned out by the dancing trees. the quiet of your surroundings was as peaceful as the ocean. You place the basket filled with supplies on the pulpit, staring out of the stained glass until your eyes wandered over to the tiny confession booths. tatsumis voice breaks the silence, startling you. "Ah, miss yn! what brings you here?" Your head whips torwards him, following his wandering gaze. you clear your throat and scratch your cheek awkwardly, "im just.. visiting, kazehaya. " You smile sheepishly, the air around you two slowly souring. "i should leave, shouldn't i?"

tatsumi shakes his head and laughs to himself.

he actually laughs to himself, walking torwards you with muddled intent. "Before you leave.. can i show you something?" You nod, raising your eyebrows. "Hmm. just follow me," tatsumi ushers you to an even quieter room, whispering nothings into the air. he opens the door only for you to find a semi empty room with a cross hanging on the opposite wall and two ceiling tall shelves filled with bibles, a few.. rulers, i shall say, and a candle. the creaking of the wooden floor snap you out of your daze, and your eyes widen right before he pushes you into the room, closing it behind him. his mouth is parted, and his pupils are blown, tatsumi gulps, reaching for your hands. "it was.. an accident." he lies through his teeth, and you grit yours, brushing your skirt off. "Hum, alright." Your voice is quiet with a hint of malice. how ungraceful for an angel, you thought to yourself. his body blocks the door, and you squint at him, adjusting your sight in the dark room. "Ah.. can you move, please?" You ask sheepishly, confused until he embraces you, slowly unbuttoning your dress. "kazehaya..! That's not right..." Again, you ask until your dress is off your your shoulders. you push him away with fail, unable to leave his arms. hes silent when spinning you around to look at your back speaking up only to comment on your appearance. "Such small wings.. i thought they would be bigger. " he smiles into your ear, fondling your breasts softly.

"hn.. this isn't right doing this out of wedlock, tatsumi.." You mumble, squirming in his arms uncomfortably. he whispers under his breath, praying before he pushes you to the ground, not using much force. "Are you suggesting we get married?" he sounds estatic. You suck your teeth, and you feel sick.— your wings flap wildly. "and these wings.. does it hurt when they're pulled, miss?" he asks, running his soft hands over them. you flinch pretty hard, crawling away from him and pulling your dress back up. and your voice shakes through your attempt at sounding assertive. "i won't answer that.. is this all you wanted?" Panic courses through your veins, and you pray. "If you let me leave.. i won't say anything." he hums, walking torwards you again. "i like you." the sound of his footsteps stopping right behind you felt gross

he repeats himself, "i like you, yn," and he does it again, "i really like you." tatsumi opens his mouth, and you interrupt him with a brisk 'stop', turning your head away as you feel his chin on your shoulder. "I'll be your first, won't i?." he breathes into the crook of your neck as you try to shrug him off. it's no use, and your knees ache; he takes no time having the both of you stand. Tatsumis arm hugs your torso, and he lifts your skirt above your butt with his unoccupied hand. "I'll be your last, too." he continues with a breathy and exasperated tone, "I'll make you mine.. I'll ruin you for anybody else, i promise. " You whimper, unable to fight back with your arms pinned, and even if they weren't, you couldn't hurt him, how unfair, how cruel. "i.. tatsumi" being unable to tell what you were pleading for was embarrassing. you sigh in defeat at the feeling of his hand fumbling with his sleep shorts, pulling them down to his knees.

was this really going to happen? an angel being defiled by a preist was a rare sight. a man of god, about to have sex with his lords disciple.

you weep, "dont take my innocence.. anything but that, oh lord. im sorry" muttering under your breath, he swipes his cock over your folds, tainting you. you begin to lose control of yourself as he pushes his member inside of your cunt, his gasps of pleasure drowned out by your cries. "agh.. it hurts! that hurts, hngh.. " he squeezes your torso tighter, the other hand coming to your lips . you've never thought of anything like this, so why does this happen to you? "You feel so nice, my angel.." Sweat drips down your temples, and you moan. it's quiet and drawn out. "No.. uuh," he lifts your chin, forcing you to lock eyes with the cross. tatsumis hips rock into yours unceremoniously, his lips come in contact with your neck, kissing and nipping at the skin. "tatsumi.. hngh.. take it out–" With wide eyes, you keep contact with the sacred item— it feels horrible, you feel horrible. you can feel yourself fall, having everything you've wanted taken from you.

now he's holding your hand, so gently. "My beautiful angel, my wife.." tatsumi kisses you, it's.. lovely, to say the least, tears run down your face in discomfort. "Ah.. it hurts, please!" You yelp, your legs beginning to shake, and you tighten around him. he grunts, grinding his hips into yours. "Let it go, just like that. " his sweet voice coaxing you into your orgasm was uncomfortable, the man you once saw as innocent, someone who could never do this. and hes calling you his wife as you cum, youre squirting all over his cock. you squeak, begging for him to stop moving, for something. "nn..." He's so caring.. it feels wonderful. your eyes are hazy and drooping, tears continuing to flow from them. tatsumis thrusting becomes more of him chasing his release. "No.. not inside." You sniffle, feeling restless. he leaves kisses on your neck, moaning into your skin, "I'll make you my wife.. you'll have my babies. " his hands migrate to your hips, no longer holding you up. the sickening sound of skin against sound was now covered by mixed moans of pleasure and pain. you can feel the warmth of his cum settling inside you before he pulls out, leaving you to think. "i love you, yn." he stands there as you begin to fall, your wings being dyed a murky color right before his eyes. and he smiles. "Now you'll be with me forever, right?"

as he leaves, the silence is comforting. like a hug after a devastating situation. its cold.

idk how i feel about this one, but its finished! i was gonna use cannibalism as a metaphor but my mommy said no 🙁🙁😒 ( i asked her while she drove us to a party) butt. this kinda makes me sad

[sugar-omi]

d..demon cove bullying you…. interrupting your prayers... hng

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN — DEEPTHROAT

*kinktober masterlist | *ao3

tags : NSFW, gn reader, dub-con (? just to be safe), demon!cove x priest!reader, ooc cove duh, mean dom cove, oral (cove receiving), cove w pp n tongue piercings, reader with no gag reflex, degradation, dirty talk, mindbreak in the works (istg this needs a part 2 or a 'previously on..' cause.... 👀🙈🙈), religious themes ofc, coves tryna sway your faith

synopsis : you’re trying to pray before bed, as you always do. but cove decides to mess with you again, as always, and finds a special trait of yours…

you’re doing your nightly prayers.

or well… you're trying to pray.

instead, cove is floating around you and mocking your prayers for tonight in a shrill voice and babbling about something demeaning about humans as always, his piercing voice irritating your ears.

your nose twitches, tugging your lip. you’re so over it. “why don’t yo- argh!”

cove interrupts you by shoving his fingers in your mouth, his thumb on your tongue and he leans in like he’s inspecting your mouth…

you go to bite his thumb but he holds your mouth open, his thumb stretching your mouth open wider.. he’s a bastard, and you tug at his wrists and move to kick him so you can grab the nearest suitable weapon to beat this damn demon into shape but he moves away and unbuckles his pants, making a show of it.

“instead of praying to that useless god of yours, you should use that mouth on me instead..” cove roughly gathers your hair up in his fist and he tugs his dick over scowl, mocking you. “awwe! you look so cute with a scowl!”

you try not to look at his dick, but his flushed tip is in front of your face and those goddamn piercings…

cove has a knowing look in his eyes, and his smirk just confirms it.

“you look better when you’re on your knees waiting for my dick.” cove’s eyes widened with excitement, his voice switching from gravelly to bubbly. “oh! don’t you think you start worshiping me?”

you snarl, “as if. i’d rather tear this church down with my teeth.” you spit, every inch of your voice and expression full of venom and cove gives a faux pout and whine.

you go to tell him to shut up that obnoxious and fake whining, that he’s not nearly as distraught as he claims to be. but his dick slips past your lips, his head hitting the back of your throat in one fell swoop.

“fuck!” cove groans, forcing your head down and keeping you there, your throat flexing around his dick but not choking, spit having no choice but to run down your chin. “you don’t have a gag reflex..”

he starts laughing, a wicked sound, and later on you'll beg for forgiveness for thinking it's a beautiful sound.. but that’s just one thing to your already long list of sins.

you’ve let this demon run circles around you from day one. even when he slipped his hand down your pants for the first time you didn’t fight him with anything more than a few barks that you’d never feel good from a demon.

but every time he pulled you into him, slipped an invisible hand under your clothes to grope your chest or your sex, or that time he found space for himself in the confession box under your robes,ordering you to listen to the poor soul on the other side…

you have more than enough power to get him off you. you’ve left him sore for weeks by just throwing the bible at his face, there’s no reason you couldn’t push against his wrist to get his lithe, skilled fingers off your sex..

but it feels good. so, so good. his fingers curling against your walls and his long, pierced tongue milking you for all you’re worth. your robes barely hiding the hickeys and bite marks he leaves behind when you’re asleep… you’re not fighting back at all, no matter what comes out your mouth.

that's why cove can shove his dick down your throat, fucking your mouth, and you know it's a bad sign that since he's fucked your mouth so much, his dick piercing sliding against your tongue is making your sex throb and leak, staining your underwear.

and it's especially bad that you're slipping your hand between your legs, palming your sex through your pants.

“what would your parish think if they knew you were such a whore?” cove growled, holding down your head. your eyes rolling into the back of your head, his balls slapping against your chin and making the mix of spit and cum drip down onto your shirt.

you moan around cove's length, drawing out a deep groan from him.

“fuck… i'm gonna cum.” cove growls, his tail swishing wildly like an irritated cat. “where do you want it, on your face? or maybe on your Bible again?”

your brows frown. you don't wanna think about that time.

he fucked you on the pew and fucked up your Bible, and someone from your parish almost saw the cum stain on the carpet…

you'll never admit that him defiling you on the pews, and ruining your Bible, was more sexy than stressful…

you try to speak around his dick, your hands coming up to his butt. your fingers digging into his cheeks as you force your head further down.

his tip is bullying the back of your throat, and you're thankful you don't have Sunday school or any confessionals tomorrow. maybe you can rest, if cove doesn't decide to ‘bless’ the rest of your church with dirty sex acts.

if someone did see, you can already imagine the riot it'd cause… it's an allure you're fighting not to find appealing.

cove laughs joyously, the loud sound echoing throughout your room.

“you're my cum dump now, aren't you?” cove looks down at you, his cheeks flushed and pushed up from the stretch of his wicked, overjoyed grin and you can see a knowing glint in his eyes.

“you'll live and serve for me, abandon your God and let me have you!” cove growls, forcing your head down, grinding the tip of his cock against the back of your throat. “instead of praying for your pathetic, spineless followers and thanking that big fool in the sky, thank me for fucking you!”

cove leans over you, his hands holding you down forces your nose to scrunch against his abdomen, and your short intake of air, or lack of, means nothing to him.

“pray for my reign and thank me for giving your life real purpose.” cove rambles, and you hate how much he's swaying you.

a dark part of you wishes to shake off these responsibilities and trade it for a life with this demon, spending your days worshiping his cock…

you couldn't. shouldn't. you wouldn't do it, but God will forgive you for dreaming right?

"argh- fuck!" cove's cum shoots down your throat, and cove's groans drown out your gagging, more spit and cum bubbling past your lips and dripping down your chin..

cove let's go, pulling you back by his fist in your hair.

his cock twitches, a string of spit connected between your lips and his cock, more strings hanging heavy on his length, taking their sweet time breaking before it hits the floor.

you cough, swallowing what you can and trying to regain your breath.

cove let's you regain your bearings without sass or whatever mischievous thing sits on his tongue. he pets your hair, looking at you with soft eyes.

“you..” you pant, fisting your hands in your shirt. “as.. as if i'd *pant* i'd spend the rest of my days as your damn cum doll.”

cove smiles softly, his tongue swiping across your lips. “we'll see about that.”

[pumpkinsy0]

Something that always sticks out to me in the book is that Ponyboy is religious and goes to church with Johnny (but then the gang RUINS that 😒😒) so perhaps some hcs for ponyboy going to church for the first time since that whole embarrassing moment anddd maybe curly is with him, hell maybe somehow curly the person to convince pony to go again? Idk I was thinking about this cause I'm in a church choir (just for their Christmas show, I've never even stepped foot in this church 😭😭) and it got me thinking. Also, i am putting pony in church choir and NO ONE can tell me otherwise (OOC? maybe. But let a girl dream)

dude i havent stepped into a church since i lost my 3ds in one, and ikkkk someone stole it but theyre going to hell for sure so its ok, im not religious but if i was thats the one thing im holding on for

•i hc that the shepards mom is super religious but she only actually goes to church for particular days, christmas eve, easter, yknow that kinda thing, and she drags her kids w her. now r the shepard kids religious???? some more a lil more than others depending on who ur asking, but curly specifically, least religious one, he just loves his mama and wants to hang w her, what a mamas boy that guy is

•pony was thinking of going back to church eventually, and curly knew pony used to go, so he just asked!! pony was hesitant bc he doesn’t have anything TO wear to church, but curly let him borrow some clothes from him and it took some more convincing bc if going to church w his gang was hell he could only imagine it w the shepard, but curly assured him they don’t do much

•of course johnny went a long way pony, johnny really had nothing better to do and he would go to church to get some food, johnny also didn’t have clothes and curlys clothes were NOT gonna fit him, so he just went w his normal outfit. curly said the people at the church don’t rlly mind WHAT u wear as long as ur there, so johnny didn’t feel as awkward about it for sure

•now the church wasn’t in a good condition like pony’s old church, it was in a basement (my old church was too lmaoooo) but pony’s not complaining, a church is a church in his eyes so it’s whatever, but one thing he made sure of when he was in there was that he was way from the shepards mom, tim, and angela for they scare him. semi thankfully tho, curly pulled pony and johnny to be in a different pew behind em, this is like the first time he’s actually been alright just being in a church and it’s bc he has friends!!!

•the pastor made pony and johnny stand up and introduce themselves bc they were new there, they were soooo uncomfortable curly knew that was gonna happen and didn’t warn em he wanted to see the color in their faces drain, pony said his name and they thought pony was trynna b funny, pony’s already wanting to run out the door

•when the service starts if u thought curly was gonna sit there and do nothing, ur wrong, ITS NOT BC PONYS THERE, curlys always acted up in church, pony being there just makes it worse, pony’s trying to pray and curlys whispering his name. doesn’t last for long tho bc tim turned around and smacked curly w a bible. pony would die to see that again btw

•pony’s not saying that the ppl at church can’t play their instruments well, it’s just WOW they’re passionate about it, pony respects the hustle cause the songs they sing r bangers, bonus points if curly gets to play an instrument and that’s y he wanted pony to come along

•that church service was long as shit, usually pony’s at church for 2 or 3 hours, but pony got there in the morning, and left at 5 god damn pm, his ass HURT, but aye,,, the food was worth it,,,pony and johnny got some leftovers plus some purse candy from aunties/grannies who went up to em after squeezing their faces

•at the end of it all, does pony go back to that church??? noooo not rlly, it’s not even a bad church, pony just can’t do a whole DAY of church, at some point he just wants to go home his social battery ain’t that good

[demonsfate]

i've never seen a fandom hate and spite their own mc more than the tekken fandom. i was browsing r/Tekken one day for tips on how to beat lili and unsurprisingly i found a post where people kept disrespecting him on his OWN BIRTHDAY. seriously, as someone who is a diehard stan of kazuya mishima and sasuke uchiha (i loved both of them since i was a kid) even those two get more respect than jin - the naruto fandom on reddit never straight up disrespected sasuke on his birthday.

worst part of it all is that jin got basically the same treatment as luke from star wars and captain america in marvel comics - he was just ooc as fuck in tekken 6 and his characterization in that game completely contradicts tekken 3-5 jin. it can easily be fixed too by just saying he got brainwashed by azazel (like how nina got brainwashed by ogre). jin fans get called whiny for trying to retcon or fix their own favorite, but side character fans (ex. paul, law, etc) get a fix their own fav and be called "the best writers in all of fiction". i think i also remember seeing someone say they hope jin's va gets terminal c*ncer and dies so the writers could have miguel kill him off and then replace him with kazuya or lars as the new mc while xiaoyu fucks hwoarang or something (i checked to see if it was still there, but they probably deleted their twitter account).

why can't the tekken fandom just do what voltron stans do and ignore canon while making their own?...yes, everyone and their grandma knows tekken story has gone down the shitter since post tekken 5. so then instead of saying "Tekken story sucks and no one cares about lore in fighting games" for the 100th time how about fucking make your own au's and fanfic.

honestly it's hard to look thru any jin content without a joke about tk6, or straight up bitter haters. i'm not saying every jin post has a comment with that content, but there's a lot that does. reddit is probs the worst place for jin hate too as i see it there the most. heck, i get hate for being a jin main. usually when they don't agree with one of my takes, they point out me being a jin main and how we're all retarded or some shit. (alisa & jun are now more of my mains, but that was back then when i still listed jin as my main lmao) so whilst you're still gonna come across jin hate on places like twitter or even here, it's best to steer away from reddit 'cos it's most egregious there.

yeah. most normal fandoms do just ignore canon, or if they can't ignore canon 'cos it's canon, they acknowledge it's trash and purpose ways it could've been handled better. but the tekken fandom isn't like that. they're insistent on jin being a fucker head because it happened in one game. and yeah, i have seen ppl say jin fans are either whiny or losers for wanting to say he was brainwashed and not hold him responsible for his actions. and it's like, yeah, i approve of holding characters responsible for their actions. but the problem with jin is that his character should've never been written to commit those actions to begin with - i'm not gonna care to hold a character responsible when they were out of character. i'm just gonna criticize the writing.

also maybe you saw that on a message i already answered? there was another anon that also told me something similar that their sister or friend was praying for that in a church lol. i dunno if you're the same anon or not (as you both have similar takes regarding the treatment of jin's character)

i think the reason why tekken fans have a harder time ignoring the Bad Parts of canon compared to fandoms like marvel, star wars, or certain animation is because of the "stories in fighting games don't matter" saying that's popular. it gives people the mentality that they shouldn't care about the story as much... yet ironically caring about it as they're mad at jin for being the Hope of Mankind lmao.

[simp-is-here]

The Outcast and The Angel Simeon x Reader

(Thank you @juhlydrawsblog for the title)

Summary: One self-filled prayer after the other, it seems as though that’s all anyone ever cares about. So when the words of you’re selfless prayer touch his soul, Simeon just has to know you

Warning: possibly OOC Simeon, Doesn’t really follow the plot of Obey Me, Simeon’s Angel ranking is changed, very much inspired by Hunchback of Notre Dame, angst, possible mistakes with religion writing, creepy guardian person (I don't know the name of someone who keeps a ward), not historically accurate clothes, set around the 1500 and 1600's, going with Obey Me being set in England, yes I know that Notre Dame is in Paris but the design is what I'm thinking of for this, will do my best to make this gender neutral, if there’s anymore I shall add

The market flooded with townspeople desperate to sell their stock, voices talking over one another in an attempt to negotiate what they want before the days end.

Two angels on the top of the cathedral cast their gaze on the humans below, silent in voice but many words are exchanged through their eyes, an agreement between the two of them.

These people are hopeless

"When the first bell of Evening Mass chimes come find me here." the ash blonde angels voice calmly spoke,

"I understand."

The toll of the bell cued the angel to leave, only a quill and scroll in his remaining. Townspeople scurried to the church, not wanting to miss their last chance to talk to God. Simeon picked up the items, wings fluttering while he dropped into the cathedral roof, preparing for the words of the people.

. . .

Here high in the rafters of the stone church sits an angel, doing his assigned task of collecting the prayers of the humans below him, finally obtaining silence as each one left. The sound of the church doors opening caused his hand to pick up his scroll, readying for another uncharitable request to God.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you’re even there. I don’t know if you would listen to my prayers”

Simeon hands lowered his eyes drifting towards you who gazed at the cross in front of you, leaning against the stone pillar, uncertainty fixed your eyes.

“Yes, I know I’m just an outcast. I shouldn’t speak to you. Still I see your face and wonder, we’re you once an outcast too?”

Your fingered trailed behind you, running across the pews while your feet carried you. The falling sunlight that shone through the coloured windows reflected in your eyes, drawing Simeon in like a welcoming embrace.

His wings fluttered softly, following you from above, completely enchanted by you.

“God help the outcasts hungry from birth, show them the mercy they don’t find on earth. God help my people, we look to you still. God help the outcasts or no body will.”

He was taken aback from this request, he had sat on those rafters many times, but hardly ever had he heard someone pray for someone else without demanding something in return. Earlier’s prayers repeated in his mind, seeing just how different people could be.

‘I ask for wealth’

‘I ask for fame’

‘I ask for glory to shine on my name’

‘I ask for love I can possess’

‘I ask for God and his angels to bless me’

The selfless words spoke over them, drowning out the prayers in his head.

“I ask for nothing, I can get by. But I know so many less lucky than I.”

The angels feet barely made a sound when they touched the floor, his chest beating like a melody to your words.

“Please help my people, then poor and down trod. I thought we all were children of God.”

The cross loomed over you once more, falling to your knees as through the weight of it was pushing you down.

“God help the outcasts, children of God.”

You lingered there for a moment, tears falling down your cheeks. A gasp left your lips at the feeling of a finger gently clearing the tear from your face.

He is infront of you, eyes that held a gentleness as he knelt beside you, his hand never leaving it’s spot.

“Don’t be discouraged.”

In the blink of an eye you were no longer in front of him, slightly hiding behind one of the pillars you steadied your heart from the scare.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." His soft voice called to you, unmoving from his place, the fear of frightening you any further lingering in his mind

"I'm... I'm not supposed to talk to people." Stammering warily while pressing your hands against the textured stone separating the two of you

"Why not? his eyebrows furrowed with his hush tone

You stayed silent, fingers digging further into the pillar. His softness was like a rope pulling you in, but the warning of your guardian stuck your feet in place.

Further silence endured before a small breath of air left his lips, mind running fast with different approaches he could attempt.

"You're prayer... it's not often one hears a prayer like yours."

Your eyes widened with the words leaving him, your voice refused to come out while you hid your face with your palm, the strange man had not said it mockingly yet the impact was the same.

"I've never prayed before, there is no need to point out that I didn't do it properly."

"I don't mean to mock you. On the contrary, your words spoke to me like none before."

Against the voice in your head trying to lead you out and away from the man, your feet carried you past the pillar. There he stood, a warm smile on his face at your reveal.

"Well hello there."

“Who are you?” you asked, continuing to maintain your distance 

“Simeon, it’s very nice to meet you.” a slight bow followed his words

“And, what are you doing alone in the church?” your eyes gazed with suspicion but were also filled with curiosity

“Not to be rude, but you came to be alone in the church aswell.” his answer was rewarded by the chuckle that escaped your mesmorizing lips

“You’re quite strange. But not wrong.” 

The moon now fully risen in the sky shone in the skylight, alerting your attention. Though a strange conversation, neither wanted to stop listening to the other, with a bite to your lip you prepared to say goodbye.

“May I ask your name-”

“I must be off, it was quite nice meeting you Simeon.” his words interrupted by your rushed voice, your body no longer infront of him

“Will you be back tomorrow?” He asked, stopping your hand from pulling the door open

You pushed down the flutter in your cheeks, slightly turning to meet his bright eyes once more. The ghost of a smile playing on your lips as the thought of seeing this strange man again crossed your mind.

“Perhaps.”

Simeon stayed in place an extra few moments, eyes lingering on where you once stood. A smile on his face for a moment before his wings came back out, bringing him to where he had sat, your words replaying as though they were still being spoken.

“Perhaps is alright.”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Thank you for reading. If you have any requests just send them to me and I’ll try to write them to the best of my ability

It has been a long time since I’ve written an actual fanfic without abandoning the project, so I apologize for this not being too long, I hope you all enjoy this.

And remember you are a fantabulous human being and that is my opinion to which you can not change my opinion so better just accept that you’re an amazing person who is doing a fantastic job. Keep up the great work. Have a good day or night or whatever you’re reading this at

Thank you @juhlydrawsblog @obey-me-posts @poetofthedyingstars @siriuslyblackonback @syzxu @coffeeandtealol @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @a-rat-that-loves-cheese @nwaml for your comments and reblogs. They really helped with having the energy and love for this idea and helped with me not abandoning this idea!!! So yes, thank you once again

[evannhansensletters]

I’ve officially turned 20 today. And not to mention September is also Suicide prevention awareness month.

Looking back on all these past miserable years; telling myself it’s going to get better. Well, it isn’t. It’s going to stay the safe. There’s nothing else to change that. Life sucks. It’s only purpose is that it end, I’m hoping for that day to come soon. I’m not going to change either. I’ll still be the same weird loser who sits alone. The one who still gets tormented. The one who’s name nobody cares to know. Life is only a struggle, a desperate, empty, meaningless struggle. All of one’s energy is spent on living with the hope that it will be better, knowing that it only will to be for an instant, until it inevitably sinks back to a worse state. Even those brief moments. That flicker of happiness or joy, are only illusions, a false sense, that in the end leaves nothing behind but disappointment and a sense of failure. It is not a life, it is a hopeless, eternal suffering. Every step forward, every effort of making something better, is useless, for it only leads back onto the same old path, back to the same place where the struggle begins again, where one is trapped in an endless cycle of hoping for something better, until they realize that this is all there is. A hopeless existence, with no way out.

Whenever I feel this way, I’ll rethink of all my past memories. That either haunt me or comfort me. Whichever way it goes, I’m never going to have that flicker of innocence. I’m full of sin and dishonor. So today, I’m spending my entire 20th birthday inside a church. Praying on my knees to change and become the human everyone wants of me. Give me back my purity. Why do I have to be so disgusting and repulsive. I want everything I’ve lost back. If I pray hard enough, maybe I’ll change my sexuality. My thought, my mentality, my physic, my, well, everything. Im a walking sin for liking my own gender. I think I deserve to rot for that.

I’m 20 now, but I can’t fully wrap my head around it. I was just 17 yesterday. Lying to everyone’s faces. This isn’t a cry for help, because I’m tired of that. No amount of medication, therapy, mental health awareness, or people can change that. I am me and I hate that fact. I won’t bother trying to attempt, judging by how I’ve failed twice. But this post wasn’t meant to for pity and sympathy. It’s just what I’ve wanted to say for a long time.

Hello,, OOC here!!!

This is probably the worst thing I’ve ever written. Hope this doesn’t make others cry.

No, this isn’t evans last post so don’t worry about that chat😔😔💔

[blxxdycherryblossoms]

introductions: sean cassidy

" but i always knew that in the end no one was coming to save me. so i just prayed and i keep praying and praying and praying. "

Was that [CALEB LANDRY JONES]? Oh no no, that was just [SEAN CASSIDY], a/an [CANON CHARACTER] from [MARVEL]. They are [TWENTY ONE] years old, use [HE/HIM], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.{ooc: Izzy, 22, PST, he/him}

tw: human experimentation, kidnapping, torture

how long has your character been here?

he's only just arrived! it's been only a week or so.

what is your character's job

eventually he plays piano for the local catholic church choir. he's also planning to go back to college to get his bachelor's degree in pre-law.

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom

somewhere in between x-men first class and x-men days of future past. however, due to some magical interference he's been not only freed of his imprisonment by bolivar trask, but he's been thrust forward into the present day, as well as Washington dc, of all places.

has any magic affected your character

as mentioned above, time travel magic has saved him from certain death but also sent him forward in time.

and any other information you might find useful for us and the other members to know!!

i imagine that sean is currently living in the x-men mansion, seeing as he has no other place to go.

he was nineteen when he was kidnapped, about a year after first class, and spent two years imprisoned. he's undergone a lot of terrible things, including being forced to worn a painful muzzle of sorts to keep him from screaming, which left small scars around his mouth, as well as a vivisection, which left a giant y incision scar on his torso, and a forced vagotomy, an outdated surgical procedure that snipped the vagus nerve. this leaves him with several vitamin deficiencies, as well as impacts his gag reflex (so that he could scream louder and longer) and drastically curbs feelings of hunger.

he also hasn't quite realized the impact of time traveling, he hasn't had the time to think about his family or his friends, and seeing other x men has comforted him greatly.

[ravenloftgm]

Viewforth by Night: A Winter's Ball, pt 1

Those that came before, and a ghoul priest.

Faith was the perfect obedient Ventrue childe for approximately two weeks.

She coped with this sudden, horrifying turn in her life by just... blindly trusting her sire. After all, this was Father Adrian. Her priest! He knew almost everything about her, he discussed her faith and her mother at length with her, he organised church fundraisers - whilst admittedly a monster, she saw him as an authority figure she could trust. She needed him to be an authority figure she could trust. He told her what was needed from her, and she was going to do her best to do it.

Until she first attended Elysium. She met the Keeper, first, who made a nerve-wracking dig at her sire - unbeknownst to Faith, it seemed the Father had previously had a string of childer. The Keeper stumbled - or feigned stumbling - for Faith's name.

"Ah, and the young one - er, Hope, was it? No, no, wait, er... Charity! Ah, er, no, she got diablerised last month..."

The first crack in Faith's perception of her sire had formed.

With her newfound mental Fortitude, however, she played the part of a smooth, confident young woman, giggling and smiling and correcting the Keeper, joking about the irony of her name in comparison to theirs. She was then presented to the Prince, quickly and efficiently - although it seems he can't quite help but make a dig about 'the last one' either, as she passes his test. In some small relief, he at least seems to imply that Faith is an improvement.

After this, Faith was encourage to go mingle while Father Adrian attended other business with the other Kindred priests of Viewforth. "Make some friends," he had said.

She went for the bar, and tried to appear confident as she asked if there was anything that she would be able to keep down. She had tried eating a handful of cereal, once, and knew that didn't work, and she'd tried water on a few occasions - she could keep it down a little, with the blush, but even then, her body was keen to reject it.

She didn't choose to relay it like that - she made the conscious, but stilted effort to come across more relatable, lamenting a failed attempt to eat a burger - that's a Relatable Food, right?

I won't go into detail of everything she said through the whole Elysium, I promise - I just need you to know that the first thing she did once her sire wasn't watching over her was lie. The only people who actually know this are me, the storyteller, and whoever else was in vc while I was memeing on Faith ooc as it played out. In character, I don't think people see her as particularly prone to lying.

Anyway: alchemy nonsense in this particular setting meant there were drink options she could keep down. She settled for a vodka cranberry, her go-to drink after coming of age. The vodka-cranberry will make numerous appearances, including a very, very sweet one later down the line.

There are a few other Kindred at the bar already, but Faith's attention is instead caught by a ghoul - praying in Latin over his glass of water. Blessing it, from what she can tell. He notices her as she notices something else - heads and conversation all around her turning to the man who's just brought a Salubri in on a leash.

The ghoul doesn't let her off the hook, asking her if something is wrong. She bleats out an apology and a "Lord be with you."

He makes some strange comments about her shame - and Faith is ashamed. We were given the task of coming up with our character's secrets at the start of all this, and one of Faith's was a secretly-held shame about what she is, the pleasure she takes in feeding, the pleasure she felt in the embrace - so she starts panicking. She lies again, saying she actually feels quite lucky. He asks why she feels the need to hide with such fervor, and she denies hiding anything.

"I suggest you find a new confessor," he says. She stiffens, horrified, then perseveres - she giggles as if this wasn't devastating, a deepening of the crack, and asks his name, turning to small talk.

He accepts this - introducing himself as Richard McCarthy, a ghoul belonging to a character that was originally going to be someone else's player character, but sadly the player never materialised. A Brujah sitting nearby has been hearing this go down, and intervenes - as soon as the ghoul introduces himself, she introduces herself in turn, Kenna Rake. She gestures for the bartender to get Faith another drink.

Dear reader, these are two of Faith's three new parents. She just doesn't know it yet.

Faith sits by, uneasy, as the pair discuss the Brujah's drifter habits, and the ghouls experiences with Malkavian vitae. Unbeknownst to Faith, the ghoul had an unfortunate outburst of Bard's Tongue before she arrived at the bar. She starts watching the man with the Salubri, for a while, but she doesn't have the context to learn anything from her observations.

Two kindred who were at the bar earlier in the night make their way back over. They seem acquainted with the Brujah. One is a Banu Haqim ancilla. The other is a Setite neonate.

It is worth noting the Banu Haqim's player was kicked from the game, for OOC reasons (though there were quite a few complaints and warnings to the player through their time in the chronicle about their character). This character will eventually sort of randomly stop showing up.

The Banu Haqim character, Clayton, goes to talk with the Keeper soon after arriving back. The Setite assimilates into the conversation - she's in a somewhat bad mood, after an interaction with her sire, and is slightly terse with the ghoul. This does nothing to help Faith's unease. She looks around for her sire, and smiles when she spots him - bolstered by the fact he, while distracted, would likely see if anything bad happened.

The Setite looks over to Faith, and just asks - "so, how new are you?"

She explains she's only been around two weeks, sings her sire's praises, and starts asking the others about themselves. The Setite is open about herself, and Faith takes advantage of this, keeping the focus on her, asking personal questions.

The Setite is called Sage, something Faith will find out later, but I don't want to keep writing "The Setite." I'll do posts about each of the coterie members eventually - Sage was an interesting one.

Sage had been quite timid in life - and now was a sexy, hot prostitute, controlled by her sire. This conversation was brought to an end, however, when the ghoul - a very old looking gentleman - brought out his 30th birthday card. A recent one. He was not actually 30 - and we went on a tangent, so I still don't actually know why he had that. 30 years with his domitor, perhaps?

Sage says she was turned after finishing university, at 24. Faith admits she herself just finished university at 21, and the group talk about their various studies - Faith double-majoring in Business Studies and Economics, while Sage had studied Occultism. Richard confirms with Faith that she is, in fact, Catholic.

I really want someone to know: Faith fucking talked like this at the start of the game:

"I will say, it's odd to think that vampires... actively keep an eye on mortals. I'm a Sales Trader, youngest in the company, so I suppose I've got 'Ventrue' written all over me, but I just... never expected anyone to be paying much attention to me. Least of all the good Father, suppose he paid more attention to my confessions than I thought," she giggles, glancing briefly to Richard, "the idea that the Tremere 'would have got you' is so odd to me, but I suppose it's more than likely true, huh?"

You will not catch her talking like that after her sire went missing, unless it's to another authority figure.

Sage slips Faith a business card as she goes to speak to another Setite, leaving her with Richard. The Brujah's player wasn't around for a while, so she faded into the background. Faith, seeing an opportunity, asked Richard to take a turn about the gardens with her.

Outside, he's much less threatening - he was a priest, once. He seems to hold Faith's sire in low regard, and he spends some time explaining to Faith the less pleasant aspects of Kindred-hood that await her. He's of a Noddist inclination, and shares this with Faith.

A series of events throughout the campaign have actually primed Faith to go Sabbat. I doubt she will, due to lack of opportunity, but fuck me, she'd be the easiest recruit ever, after what she's been through so far.

They discuss whether Cainite's can be free of Cain's curse, and Richard - now known to be centuries old - advises her on her path forward, and gives her a very important gift, with mention of but a single word:

Faith's body language changes as he speaks - she appears to open up slightly, losing the practised nature she carries herself with in the presence of her sire. She wears a soft, seemingly genuine smile - as if relieved to hear this.

"Golconda?" she asks, speaking softly - her voice betraying her desperation to know more, "I'm not familiar with the term."

She's literally a two week old fledgling but my god she is speedrunning.

They debate whether the pursuit of "goodness" is selfish if you're doing it just because you're a vampire. They talk about Richard's experiences as a Cistercian, and now as a ghoul, being passed around from domitor to domitor over many, many years. Over the course of the conversation, she decides Richard is someone she can trust - and successfully makes her first friend - not a kindred, but a ghoul, and one with a rather potent dislike of her sire.

Eventually, they head back inside, after she becomes a little more keenly aware that Father Adrian wouldn't want her outside with a ghoul all evening.

[swedemoved]

christine uses her religion as a crutch in many many ways and one day i’ll touch on it

[thepastcr]

am i dead. am i alive.  heatwave says the former hhhh

[mcgdclene-archived]

Tag drop.

[marxsthings]

Healings of love

Warnings ; Reader gets really injured in some parts, slight spoilers for kokomi's part, kinda ooc characters

A/N ; Hydro characters x reader !! (Yes, all of em, including Barbara and Xinqiu but since I'm pretty sure they're minors, the scenario would be platonic) my main idea was gonna be pyro characters then I realized how much characters there are. These are all scenarios of reader getting hurt or injured.

Childe x GN!reader, Ayato x GN!reader, Yelan x GN!reader, Kokomi x GN!reader, Barbara x GN!reader, Xingqiu x GN!reader (Some of the parts use They/them)

Childe

You gasp at how your shoulder was bleeding, “Archons, Ajax!” You look at Childe who is just surprise that he slashed your arm that bad during training. “My dear, are you okay!” He yells running after you.

“I’m so sorry, my dearest..!!” Childe whines bandaging your shoulder. He presses small pecks to your neck while you sigh at the harbinger. “I’m never sparring with you,” you tease as he whines even more.

“Forgive me..!!” He hugs you tightly. “You big baby, it was just a joke besides you're gonna take care of me until this heals,” you gesture your shoulder.

Kamisato Ayato

You grumble under your breath, being reported to the office of the Kamisato Residence because you fought with one of the maids when they talked shit about Thoma. “You can come in now, my little troublemaker,” You heard the Head of the Kamisato clan's words.

“Ayato, I'm—” You head in arms full of bruises and a black eye, Ayato sigh as he walks towards you. He holds your face while he grabs the first aid kit he has laying around. “Archons, you need to stop being in trouble, love,” as he pecks your face peppering you.

“I’m fine I swear..!!” You try to wriggle away but he just treated your bruises anyways.

Yelan

You were fighting treasure hoarders and they got some few good hits on you. You were hoping Traveller or maybe Yelan to appear but you know they’re too busy to help you. ‘Archons, please help!’ you prayed trying to pry them off.

Hydro strings ties all of the hoarders fighting you and you see, Yelan. “They’re with me, don't touch them.” She threatens. You watch as they all run away and she catches you before you pass out.

You wake up and sense that you've been bandaged all over your arms and your eye was covered because of the black eye. You see your girlfriend, Yelan, clinging to you.

Sangonomiya Kokomi

You and gorou have the same position in the resistance, but you're way closer to the supreme leader then anyone. Speaking of which, Traveller helped you in your fights. Though, you got really injured in the battles.

“General?” Supreme leader, Kokomi, says entering into your tent. “Your Excellency..!” You shout as you see her attend your wounds. “There’s not many people, we can drop the formalities, dearest,” She says as she hugs you.

“Alright, sweetheart,” You say as you softly hug her tightly as she starts caressing your back.

Barbara Pegg

You were just doing commissions with Bennett and you got into a huge hilichurl camp on accident. You tried protecting Bennett but you got severely injured in the whole ordeal.

A nun named, Rosaria, sees you two and helped while also helping you to go to the church to be treated with Barbara. Once she sees you, “Heal them,” Rosaria says and Barbara starts treating right away.

“Barbs, I'm totally fine..!!” You shriek at the healing process. “You’ll be better I swear!!" Barbara reassures you.

Xingqiu

You were just doing some duties for the guild, you thought it was clearing some of the roads, but how did your duties went to a hilichurl camp. Xingqiu was walking alone with a book in his hand when he heard shouting.

Investigating, he sees you fighting the monsters all alone, your leg bleeding. Xingqiu decided to help you by helping with the fight and his attacks heals you.

After the fight, “Xingqiu, thank you for your help!” You say as he bandages your legs. “No worries, you're my dearest acquaintance after all.”

[sparklingyandere]

Ungrateful. (nsft)

summary: god form venti/reader. Venti overhears you praying about something trivial and decides to teach you a lesson in gratitude.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: explicit content, NONCON, mild yandere, abuse of power, god/mortal dynamic, ooc venti

note: please read with caution, heavy tws.

The Favonious Cathedral was unlocked at night, though it was almost always empty, just in case anyone needed emergency sanctuary or comfort. You were here for the latter, coming to pray to Barbatos for guidance. Your footsteps clack against the linoleum floor and echo through the large empty hall. You get down on your knees between two pews and clasp your hands in prayer.

At least once a week you found yourself here, praying. You knew Lord Barbatos wasn't personally solving your troubles, he probably had much more important matters to attend to, but just getting it off your chest and into the open air of the cathedral brought you a unique sense of solace that you just kept coming back for.

You thought about the events that brought you here tonight. Your heart ached in your chest as you began praying. You truly thought they were different, that you could trust them. But they broke your heart anyways. You were glad you chose to come at night when the church was devoid of other churchgoers, as tears started falling down your cheeks and into the corners of your mouth. You inhaled shakily and shivered.

New footsteps resounded the room and you froze up, silencing your cries. The footsteps marched towards you and stopped in the aisle behind you. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hands to cover up your shame and turn slowly to face the newcomer.

Your already-throbbing heart skips a beat at what you see. A man, though he appears to be short, towers over your kneeling form. He is draped in long, flowing white robes that complement his figure. His face has gentle, round features with two braids tied around the sides of his head. He bears a striking resemblance to all known depictions of Lord Barbatos. You would have assumed it was an imposter in distasteful cosplay, gotten up and accused him of blasphemy, if it weren't for the beautiful, sprawling white wings behind him. He had to be real.

Everything about him is beautiful. Your mouth gapes slightly as you process the overwhelmingly holy presence before you, frozen in shock. You mindlessly stare at his stunning green eyes, currently void of readable emotion. His entire soft face is blank. You snap out of your trance and realize that he could strike you down at any second for your insolence.

You turn your body fully around to face him and bow your head. "Lord Barbatos." you say.

Your mind aches with questions- why here? Why now? Why you? The church and the people of Mondstadt had total radio silence from the god for centuries. Had you done something wrong, and he was here to punish you? You want to ask, but you didn't dare question him out of turn.

His lips finally move. "Why are you here tonight?" he asks. His voice is solemn yet angelic, nasally but not annoyingly so.

He knows why you are here. You come here once a week with something new to cry about. He wants to hear you say it, though.

Your breath catches in your throat at the direct acknowledgement and you struggle to find words. "For… guidance, my Lord," you manage, folding your hands in your lap.

He says nothing, waiting for you to continue.

"My partner… left me. I just feel so heartbroken. I just wanted to pray for comfort. I'm sorry," you say tentatively; you aren't exactly sure what you're apologizing for, but you still can't tell if he's upset or not, and you aren't about to risk it.

He blinks. Here you were, at his feet, in shambles over a breakup. He had fought tooth and nail for the liberation of his people. He lost everyone he had ever loved so you could be free today. But you get dumped and you’re suffering?

Sure, you were allowed to be sad, breakups happen. But every week you found some new trivial problem to be crumbling over, whining his ear off in the wee hours of the night. Bad hair day before an interview. Lost your wallet. Fight with a friend. He always listened to your prayers, as you were a pious follower (and he didn’t have much else to do), but they were always so insufferably inconsequential. You were privileged through and through, and you deserved to be knocked down a peg.

You didn't know what it was like to suffer. But he would show you.

He doesn't say that, though. Instead, he softens his eyes and gives you a kind smile that complements his gentle features. "It must have been hard," he soothes.

You stare at him in utter disbelief, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. He knelt down on one knee in front of you, your heights now level, and extended a hand out to you.

You hesitate for a moment. You want oh-so-badly to accept his hand, but you aren't worthy. You don't deserve such a loving touch from someone as magnificent as him.

But rejecting him would be sacrilegious, and you would not be able to live with yourself after. Managing all your courage you crawl out from between the pews and into the aisle where he kneels. You crawl into the reach of his arms and he places his soft hand on your face. You would have thought his hands to be calloused, given the amount of times they fought for Mondstadt, but the delicateness matches the rest of him just as well. His disarming smile and loving gaze warms your weary soul and you melt into his hand, closing your eyes.

For a moment you just revel in the warmth. Then, he leans forward and you instinctively lean back, sitting on your legs. He removes his hand from your cheek and gently takes your wrists in his hands instead. His gentle eyes are still fixed on you, so you don't resist, fully trusting him.

He doesn't stop leaning towards you, slowly pushing you. "Let me comfort you," he says. You're about to question him, but he finally pushes you down onto your back. Your head hits the cold tile and you grimace in pain. Barbatos moves quickly before you can sit up, straddling your hips and still holding your wrists. You try to tug them away but his grip tightens at the movement.

"Lord Barbatos- this isn't- we can't-" You struggle to find the politest way to tell him to stop, but he just shushes you dismissively.

He lets go of your wrists once he's comfortably situated atop your hips and puts one of his hands on the center of your chest to keep you down. You immediately use your freed hands to try and push him away but he pays no mind to your feeble attempts. He undoes a clasp on his robes and they slide off of him gracefully, now clad in much lighter, more revealing underclothes.

The impending doom of the situation causes panic to settle in your chest. Adrenaline pumps through you and the force with which you shove at his shoulders and arm increases dramatically, though he is much stronger than he looks. You didn't expect any less from your archon, but it only serves to enhance your dread. Your ribcage feels like it's closing in around your lungs.

Barbatos grows visibly irritated with your weak shoves and catches both of your wrists in one hand. "Stop fighting," he huffs, "I'm doing this for you."

He isn't. You don't know what he's doing this for, but you're gaining absolutely nothing from what he is doing to you but lifelong trauma that will weigh heavy on your mind like shackles. You will never be free from the suffering he is inflicting upon you now.

With his other hand he starts undoing the buttons of your top. He stops when it's unbuttoned to your stomach and your chest is fully exposed. His beautiful wings flutter slightly behind him.

Your once-dried tears come back with renewed life and you cannot bear to look at him any longer. You tilt your head back and fix your eyes on the ceiling of the cathedral and you cry as silently as you can manage.

You hear the rustling of clothes and feel him hike your skirt up to your waist. You close your eyes and shudder. He releases your wrists and adjusts his position so that he's between your legs. He must notice you tuning him out because he taps the side of your face, "Hey. Pay attention." You open your eyes and he's laying on top of you, his face directly over yours. You know what comes next and you give him a pleading stare with your teary eyes. He smiles down at you.

He casts his gaze downward. Tears blur your vision and his warm, soft fingers tug your underwear aside. You blink and hot tears stream down the sides of your face. You brace yourself.

He spares no time piercing through your virginity, bottoming out like he had been waiting ages for this moment. Pain sears through your abdomen and your will to fight reignites. You thrash your legs, trying to kick him off. You didn't care about being pious anymore. You didn't care if you were called a heretic. You just wanted him off.

But he somehow keeps going despite your movement. With one hand he props himself up over you, and he wraps the other delicately around your throat. He doesn't squeeze, but the threat is there. "Just- ugh- just relax," he pants.

The initial pain dulls out but you still feel him splitting your insides and hitting your cervix with each thrust, like he was made perfectly to fill you up in the most mind numbing way possible. You whimper in pain and stare up at him. His face is flushed red, breath uneven, his hand trembles slightly against your neck. His wings obstruct your view of anything past him. Even like this, even though you hate him right now, he's beautiful.

Your body rocks back and forth against the cold floor in time with his thrusts. The way he stretches you out around him is uniquely painful, and yet a warm, pleasant feeling blooms in your abdomen. It feels natural.

You scan his graceful features. He looks so soft. You realize that, while he's had a field day touching you, you had yet to touch him, aside from the desperate shoving. Formalities are long gone by this point, so you reach up slowly and cup the plush flesh of his cheek. He doesn't seem to mind, and in fact he enjoys it. He leans into your hand and closes his eyes. It's a wonder how someone so warm and soft can be capable of such cruelty, you muse. You pull your hand away and he sighs at the loss of contact.

The hand around your throat slides lower to your exposed breast and he squeezes one in his hand. All the resentment he felt towards you mere minutes ago had dissipated. This was no longer about making you suffer, he just wanted you. You felt so good under him, he was certain this was what Celestia had intended for you all along. He was your god, and you were his angel.

His uneven hip movements become more erratic and he leans down and presses his forehead to yours. You push at his shoulders one last time, silently urging him to pull out.

He bucks harshly into your cervix with bruising force and you cry out in pain. You feel him tense up and relax, twitching slightly inside you. He thrusts haphazardly a couple more times, fucking his cum into you, and panic swirls in your clouded mind.

He pulls out and slides off of you. You button your shirt back up as soon as he's off in a frivolous attempt to preserve your dignity. Agony weighs heavy on your mind. You're disgusted with him. You're disgusted with yourself for hating the god you were meant to revere. You're disgusted with your body for enjoying even a second of it.

Barbatos sits on the floor behind you. He lifts your head and slides his legs under so that you're resting your head in his lap. His robes are back on. You roll over so you're face down in his lap and openly sob into it. Your shoulders shake and you gasp for air between wails.

"You did so good," His nimble fingers stroke your tangled hair comfortingly, "It's like you were made for me."

You sob harder into his robes at the words, desperately clinging to the fabric for comfort. You cry into him for several minutes and he just pets your hair gently the whole time.

You're exhausted, emotionally and physically, and when your crying eventually ceases, you can't resist the urge to just shut your eyes. You fall asleep in his lap.

When you wake, it's dawn, and Barbatos is nowhere to be seen. A sister found you when she stepped into the main hall to prepare for morning mass, out cold on the floor of the cathedral in disorderly, rumpled clothing. She assumes you must've taken sanctuary in the night from something outside.

If only she knew.

~

You stopped going to church after that, on your own at least. You still went when invited by friends or family, just so they wouldn’t suspect something was wrong. Time passes and one such day occurs- you walk out the doors of the Favonious Cathedral after watching the choir sing with two friends. You gossip lightheartedly with them and one suggests visiting a tavern on the east side of town to wind down, and that there should be a performer there today.

You push open the door of Angel’s share and have a seat with your friends at the bar. Lo and behold, the performer is a bit farther in, singing in the more crowded area with all the tables. He’s facing away from you, but slowly turning to address the full crowd. His green clothes were a striking clash against the brown background of the rest of the bar. Something about his presence is familiar, and as he turns towards your group it clicks like the hammer of a gun.

His visage bears perfect likeness to the man that day in the church, to Barbatos himself. His attire is different, his demeanor is fully changed, to where you almost think you must be seeing things- but as he spins around to the melody of his tavern tune, he makes brief eye contact with you and you see the slightest glimmer of recognition in his eyes. You know.

Your friends giggle at the sight of your staredown with him, and playfully accuse you of having a crush. You laugh it off nervously and turn to the bartender. You order two shots.