#The Devil's Prayer book | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

little-diable · 7 months ago

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"Angel" He calls me – Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

Listen, this is fucked up – even I was unsure where this came from. But I ain't sorry for it, I know y'all will love this, you filthy heathen (i love you). Shamelessly inspired by the song "The Fruits" by Paris Paloma. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Her mother accuses the reader of preparing a satanic ritual, so she hopes that Priest Riddle can free the young girl from the devil's grasp. What a shame that the young priest is even more cunning than the Devil himself.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, smut in a church, heavy dub!con, choking, wax play, blood play, Tom being Tom, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (about 2k words)

My love, are you the devil? I would worship you instead of him, I have no time for confession, for I'm too busy committing sins

“Priest Riddle!” Her mother’s shrill voice echoed through the empty church, repeated with every further step she took. (Y/n) struggled against her mother’s grasp, feet dragged along the cold ground as if she prayed that the floor would open up, that something or someone would crawl from the eternal darkness to hold onto her, rescue her from the hell she would experience any moment now. “Priest Riddle!”

The tall man appeared after another loud call of his name, concern tugged on his features, a facade her mother instantly seemed to buy into; a facade (y/n) instantly saw through. Priest Riddle was a devilish handsome man, a man so handsome he easily fooled those who clung to him, distracting them from his sinful character.

“Mathilda, (y/n), what is going on?” His bright eyes carried concern as he looked at (y/n)’s mother, concern that changed into something dark the second his gaze found (y/n)’s. Her mother’s torture was nothing against what he’d do to her, that much she was certain of after all those confessions she had been forced through – confessions that had ended with her knees having a carpet burn, with her ass bruised, and her jaw pulsing in pain from being stretched open.

“She’s gone insane, I’ve found her worshipping the devil! He has his dark grasp on her, oh you have to free my girl, you’re my only chance of finding help for her sinning soul, Father!” Tears dripped from her mother’s eyes, tears (y/n) silently cursed. She had done no such thing, all she had done was read a book Priest Riddle had borrowed her, one of the few interests both shared – Latin prayers her mother had mistaken for satanic rituals as (y/n) had tried to pronounce the words.

For a second, he studied (y/n), the annoyance she couldn’t shake, the wide pupils he had grown all too used to, feeling his cock twitch in his trousers at the excitement now thumping through his veins. “Leave her with me, Mathilda. She’s in good hands. I’ll take care of our girl.”

"Angel“ he calls me, does he know that I'm falling from a precipice that I tripped off long ago?

“Rituals, huh?” Her mother had left the church seconds ago, leaving the two of them behind. (Y/n)’s skin prickled, she was fighting against the need to scream, to throw a tantrum against her mother’s foolish behaviour. All because of him.

“This is your fault! She heard me read that prayer book of yours.” Within seconds he stood in front of her, ringed hand wrapped around her throat. Her heart was pounding, blood rushing through her veins, he could feel (y/n)’s fast pulse against his fingertips, a sensation that left the man smirking.

“My fault?” The way he spoke the words, with a voice so raspy and deep, (y/n) didn’t manage to stop her body from reacting, her thighs from trembling and her walls from clenching around nothing. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, all they did was stare at one another. “My fault, really, (y/n)?”

“I,” her words got stuck in her throat as he squeezed, cutting off her strength to pronounce any words. Priest Riddle always enjoyed silencing her, showing her how much power he held over her. (Y/n) was shoved backwards as he let go of her, watching her fall onto the stone stairs leading up to the altar.

“You see, (y/n), your mother may think I’m the saving grace, the voice of reason, but I think you know better, don’t you? There is no saving left for you, no grace I can give you. The Devil would have tried to save you, what a shame that I’m not him.” Angry tears welled up in her eyes, tears that began to drip as a laugh clawed through him. There was no escaping him, no matter how much her mind begged her to run, to never return to these unholy walls, her body craved his touch, desperate for everything he could offer.

“Undress, lay down on the altar, for me.” It took (y/n) a second to snap into motion, to undo the buttons of her dress with shaky fingers. Not once did her glassy eyes leave his frame, not as she stood naked, not as she slowly heaved herself onto the altar, not as she watched him alight the red candle placed next to the Holy Bible.

“Do you remember what John teaches us, (y/n)? He tells us: Whoever makes a practice of sinning is of the devil, for the devil has been sinning from the beginning. But tonight you will sin, tonight you will offer yourself to the devil, even though he will never have you. He fears me, and he will fear my precious toy once I’m done with you.”

“In nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.” He was standing behind the altar, with his ringed fingers holding onto the burned candle. (Y/n) was forced to watch him tilt the candle, letting the wax drip down onto the valley between her naked breasts. She hissed at the sensation, torn between excitement and fear, and yet she craved more.

“Princeps gloriosissime caelestis militiae, sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio adversus principes et potestates, adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritalia nequitiae, in caelestibus.” Priest Riddle’s voice didn’t carry any emotion as he spoke the lines of the prayer to Saint Michael, a prayer used in exorcisms, a prayer he used to mock her now. The candle kept dripping, one by one the drops of wax marked her body, leaving (y/n) moaning as his cold hand joined the wax, touching her hardening nipples with a smirk growing on his lips.

“Veni in auxilium hominum, quos Deus ad imaginem similitudinis suae fecit, et a tyrannide diaboli emit pretio magno. Te custodem et patronum sancta veneratur Ecclesia; tibi tradidit Dominus animas redemptorum in superna felicitate locandas.” No longer did (y/n) try to keep her moans bottled in, she arched her back off the altar as he added more strength to his touch, tweaking her nipples as the wax dripped onto her stomach. It felt as if he was making an offering, sacrificing (y/n) for the sins they had committed together, giving her up for his eternal salvation.

“Deprecare Deum pacis, ut conterat Satanam sub pedibus nostris, ne ultra valeat captivos tenere homines, et Ecclesiae nocere. Offer nostras preces in conspectu Altissimi, ut cito anticipent nos misericordiae Domini, et apprehendas draconem, serpentem antiquum, qui est diabolus et Satanas, et ligatum mittas in abyssum, ut non seducat amplius gentes. Amen.” The last drop of wax fell as Priest Riddle ended the prayer, tossing the blown-out candle aside to press his lips against (y/n)’s. Both moaned in unison as her fingers began to work on his belt, needing to free his cock with the silent hope that he’d fuck her on the altar spurring her on.

He twitched in her grasp, a sensation so familiar, she found herself relaxing, giving her mind a few seconds to relax. Seconds he used to study her with danger laced in his gaze, danger that deepened as her eyes were drawn to his throat, watching him rip his silvery necklace from his neck. The necklace twinkled in the dim light, momentarily entrancing (y/n) as if she was studying a rare gem, an offering only God would make.

“We have been bound together for months, you are my possession, and you will do as I say, you will let me lead you till I no longer think you’re worthy of my time.” He tightened his grasp on his necklace, and without another warning, he ran the sharp edge of the cross along his skin, instantly drawing blood. Blood so red, it looked like sacred wine, richer than Jesus’ blood, more powerful than any other offering.

He wiped his bleeding thumb along her lips, letting her taste the copper staining her skin like a tattoo made for eternity. They held eye contact as she parted her lips, letting her tongue lick his skin clean, unable to stop her moan from clawing out of her. She was nothing but a toy, someone he used to pass time with, someone to fuck whenever his body called for excitement – and she loved it, every fucked up second of their time together.

Priest Riddle let go of her to position himself between her thighs, his fingertips dug into her skin as he wrapped her legs around his waist. Soon he’d fuck her, soon he’d remind her that she was his – his only.

You're faithless, for you pitched me, against your holy father and it seems that I am winning

Without giving (y/n) any chance to prepare herself, he pushed into her, forcing his cock into her tightness. Her arousal allowed him to move without any struggles, moving as if their bodies had been made for one another. In some fucked up way she could have found something romantic in this, claimed in a church for all holy and unholy eyes to see, but the darkness he emanated was enough to keep her from thinking these thoughts.

Months ago when this had happened for the first time, (y/n) had been frightened, not knowing what the man would do to her. But after the first of many orgasms had wrecked through her, she had felt like Judas, the backstabber, the liar she had been turned into. No longer held back by the fear of sinning, rather giving in – all for the promise of being punished by Priest Riddle.

“Even the devil wouldn’t take you in, a soul filled with sins that even He would turn his back on. I’m your only rescue.” He panted his words as he buried himself deep inside of her, eyes staring down at her. Without stopping his movements, his hips from snapping against hers, he pushed the cross past her lips, forcing her to hold it between her teeth. (Y/n) could still taste his blood – heightening her senses as her walls fluttered around him.

She hated herself for enjoying this, for being at his mercy with her legs spread and her back arched. He only spoke the truth, he was her only chance of guidance, the only one to cling to as the others had left her behind, engulfed in darkness. Her saving grace, the poison she was addicted to, the bruising grasp she couldn’t shake.

“Cum for me, show them that there is no chance of rescuing you from me.” With the cross held between her teeth, she moaned for him. (Y/n)’s orgasm wrecked through her, leaving her shaking and panting beneath him. But the priest kept moving, searching his own high with his fingertips digging into her skin.

A heavy moan rumbled through Priest Riddle as he came, imprinting himself on her walls without giving her a warning. Once again marked by the man who called her his own property, once again marked by the devil’s most brutal brother.

“I need you on your knees, it’s time to beg for His forgiveness, (y/n).”

……

Translation of the Latin prayer:

St. Michael the Archangel, illustrious leader of the heavenly army, defend us in the battle against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of darkness and the spirit of wickedness in high places.

Come to the rescue of mankind, whom God has made in His own image and likeness, and purchased from Satan's tyranny at so great a price.

Holy Church venerates you as her patron and guardian. The Lord has entrusted to you the task of leading the souls of the redeemed to heavenly blessedness.

Entreat the Lord of peace to cast Satan down under our feet, so as to keep him from further holding man captive and doing harm to the Church.

Carry our prayers up to God's throne, that the mercy of the Lord may quickly come and lay hold of the beast, the serpent of old, Satan and his demons, casting him in chains into the abyss, so that he can no longer seduce the nations. Amen.

#Tom Riddle smut #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle imagine #priest fic #Harry Potter smut

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deadloverxx · 9 months ago

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subbot yan priest x domtop reader!!

cw: religion, religious guilt, internalised homophobia, obsession, and all of yandere shenanigans.

hands clutched in prayer, his desperate eyes drank in the figure of Christ before him. oh, the saviour would be really disappointed, seeing his server like this. lips coated in saliva and droplets of blood, skin ripped at the edges from the desperate bites. so dirty. and it's all a fault of some sinner, nonetheless. a devil in disguise, he was convinced. a span of Lucifer, sent to earth to tempt him into sin, like the devil did with Eve. the holy book did warn him the devil would look handsome... but he didn't expect him to look this handsome. where was his guardian angel? very immodest looking this sinner, Father thought, and felt something twitch beneath his vestment. obscenely mortifying. but why? Father shuddered at the thought, correct but otherwise impossible. he needed to hunt the sinner down. exorcise the evil that had plagued his mind once and for all.

the hunt began with surveying your interactions with others at the church. a local nearby, although an atheist, still talked to a lot of the priest's holy brothers and sisters. your smile, revealing a little bit of white, sharp tooth, drove him crazy, thighs rubbing against each other at the very sight of it as you talked to an acolyte under Father's watchful gaze. you glanced at him a few times, and every time he felt his heart throb, hands clutching the rosary in his pocket.

"forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..." he mumbled, knees pressed against the confessional's cold wooden floor. this was his third frequent confession, in which thought of you crawled their way into his mind. always too afraid of admitting it, but dreadfully ashamed of how in this time, which is supposed to be between him and God... you still found your way to plague his thoughts. "i have been having thoughts... thoughts of.. men." he breathed out, biting on his lip again. "i can't get him out of my head, that man..." seemingly not even waiting for the priest on the other end of the confessional's wall to respond, his breath hitched. "he has been in my mind for ages now, as i pray, as i eat, as i read the holy book... i'm afraid of God's wrath for it" and as he mutters the sets of prayers prescribed by his colleague, he can't help but think of himself on his knees, before you, praying between your legs with his wet, sinful mouth, as you moan in pleasure..

and when an acolyte of his brought him something you dropped on your way out - oh Lord... the little boy was being nice, bringing lost items of someone to his trusted adult to return. he nodded and thanked the boy with shaking hands clutching a hanky of yours, which was usually hanging from your left back pocket.

he was grateful, face buried in the piece of cloth which held your scent at night, sprawled across his bed, the robes off, shamefully letting his fingers thrust in and out of himself, drool running down his cheeks as he imagined your strong hands spreading his legs apart and ravaging him, eyes rolling at the back of his head as your name slipped past his lips like a prayer. and as his body shook with release, clear semen pooling on his stomach, he breathed in your scent again, contemplating how he would give it to you the following day, and try and spark up a conversation while he's at it...

#🌸🐇writing #drabble #male reader #x male reader #top male reader #bottom character #nsft #gay #male character x male reader #character x male reader #bottom male character #top reader

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sorcerersandskillusers · 5 months ago

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Fyodor and the Devil: Analysis of Fyodor's motives and role in the narrative

Asagiri has stated that he based Fyodor not on Dostoyevsky the author but on a specific scene from one of his books The Brothers Karamazov where Ivan Karamazov confronts “the devil” in his room.

(It's a really good book, you should read it if you have time. Also. fun fact, Fyodor and the devil wear the same hat, “His soft fluffy white hat was out of keeping with the season.”)

Having read the book and gone over this scene, I realized that this could be used to find out a lot more about Fyodor as a character than we see in the story, including a potential glimpse at his real motivations.

A bit of context for the scene. Ivan Kramazov is a clever but deeply trouble man who has struggling with the concept of God and rationalising him with the cruelty of humanity, at one point while very sick, Ivan starts seeing a man in his room who claims to be “the devil”. Their conversation is a fascinating look at morality and why evil exists in the world, and if you look at it closely it reveals a lot about the role of a “villain” in a story.

This line from “the devil” is really interesting to me, and seems to explain a lot about Fyodor’s character, as well as align perfectly with how Asagiri has described Fyodor in interviews:

Before time was, by some decree which I could never make out, I

was predestined 'to deny' and yet I am genuinely good-hearted and not at all inclined to negation.

'No, you must go and deny, without denial there's no criticism and what would a journal be without a column of criticism?'

Without criticism it would be nothing but one 'hosannah.' But nothing but hosannah is not enough for life, the hosannah must be tried in the crucible of doubt and so on, in the same style. But I don't meddle in that, I didn't�� create it, I am not answerable for it. Well, they've chosen their scapegoat, they've made me write the column of criticism and so life was made possible.

Basically the devil is saying that he was created because without evil then good means nothing, if everything was perfect then nothing would happen or change, life couldn’t exist, so he was forced to be that evil even though he never wanted to be.

This is so similar to how Fyodor is described in the BSD exposition 2020:

Fyodor is the antagonist, he is the villain of the story, that is the role he plays. This explains why he chooses to commit so many atrocities in the name of “following God's plan”. It even connects to his line in The Dead Apple, and his ability name. He is both crime and punishment, as “crime” or sin originates with the devil, but it's also the devil who punishes sinners.

(I mean the title of the episode he is introduced in is literally “My Ill Deeds Are the Work of God” by committing evil acts he is fulfilling God's purpose for him.)

And if Fyodor is really based on “the devil” it's very likely he also either does or used to wish for release from this role that was assigned to him, but he knows that he cannot stray from his path or the story will cease to exist. My evidence for Fyodor wanting to be free of his mission is just one interaction, when he kills Karma.

Look at Fyodor's expression here, this is the only time in the entire series where we see him look truly sad. This isn't an act, there is no one there for him to trick, he simply says a quiet prayer for the life of a boy who's only purpose was to suffer and die.

This next part of “the devils” speech actually seems to fit very well for Dazai, it's interesting since he is the narrative foil to Fyodor and clearly is a very similar character.

We understand that comedy; I, for instance, simply ask for annihilation. No, live, I am told, for there'd be nothing without you.

If everything in the universe were sensible, nothing would happen. There would be no events without you, and there must be events. So against the grain I serve to produce events and do what's irrational because I am commanded to.

For all their indisputable intelligence,men take this farce as something serious, and that is their tragedy. They suffer, of course... but then they live, they live a real life, not a fantastic one, for suffering is life. Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service; it would be holy, but tedious. But what about me? I suffer, but still, I don't live. I am x in an indeterminate equation. I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name.

This ties perfectly into Dazai and Fyodor’s debate on the nature of God in the sky casino arc.

Dazai here points out that it's not perfection and harmony that make the world move, it's the irrational, it's the foolishness and stupidity of humans who charges into life making a million mistakes but always finding ways to fight on through it. Here Dazai and Fyodor represent the conflicting sides of “the devil” with Fyodor embodying his mission to drive the world and Dazai embodying his secret love for, and wish to join, humanity.

“I love men genuinely, I've been greatly calumniated! Here when I stay withyou from time to time, my life gains a kind of reality and that's what I like most of all. Yousee, like you, I suffer from the fantastic and so I love the realism of earth. Here, with you, everything is circumscribed, here all is formulated and geometrical, while we have nothing but indeterminate equations! I wander about here dreaming. I like dreaming. Besides, on earth I become superstitious. Please don't laugh, that's just what I like, to become superstitious. I adopt all your habits here: I've grown fond of going to the public baths, would you believe it?

And I go and steam myself with merchants and priests. What I dream of is becoming incarnate once for all and irrevocably in the form of some merchant's wife weighing eighteen stone, and of believing all she believes. My ideal is to go to church and offer a candle in simple-hearted faith, upon my word it is. Then there would be an end to my sufferings.”

“"Why not, if I sometimes put on fleshly form? I put on fleshly form and I take the consequences. Satan sum et nihil humanum a me alienum puto."*

* I am Satan, and deem nothing human alien to me.”

This piece from the devil feels like it could be a description of Dazai’s character, his wish above all else to find happiness and love as a human despite believing he is a demon. Both Dazai and Fyodor have strong ties to the Devil, both of them are often described as demonic or inhuman, with emphasis placed on the darkness of their souls and the isolation they feel due to their minds.

But the difference between them is how they dealt with it, Fyodor chose to embrace it and fully commit to his role in the story as the ultimate evil for the greater good, but Dazai has always shown a fasciation with humans and has spent his life trying to connect to them and find meaning in his existence.

Finally, let's look at what we can learn about Fyodor’s motivation. Fyodor is the villain, he is the final obstacle the protagonist has to overcome, he is the driving force behind so much of Atsushi’s life and the reason so much of the series has played out at all. He sent Shibusawa to torture Atsushi as a child, he was an informant to the guild who put the bounty on Atsushi making the mafia turn on him, he was involved in the guild invasion, and obviously he was the master mind behind cannibalism and Decay of Angles.

If he is aware of his position as the antagonist, then he also is probably aware Atsushi is the protagonist, he knew he was the “envy of all ability users” after all, so he knows Atsushi has some significance to the world as a whole.

Atsushi is also the “guide to the book” which is seemingly Fyodor’s end goal, so even though Fyodor doesn’t seem to be focused on Atsushi, he has been indirectly influencing his whole journey up to this point. This also explains why Fyodor is only moving actively now, because the protagonist has appeared and his role as the villain can finally be fulfilled and he, like “the devil” can finally get the “annihilation” he asked for. Hence, Fyodor’s true goal is to erase himself from the narrative.

There is actually quite a lot of evidence for this. The obvious part is that Fyodor wants to rid the world of ability users while he himself is an ability user, he cannot exist in his perfect world.

Then there’s the fact that in the Dead Apple, Fyodor calls himself “crime” if Fyodor is “crime” or “sin” then a world free of sin would not contain him at all

Even when Fyodor talks about sin, he says how humans are easily manipulated into killing each other, while he constantly manipulates characters into killing each other, he is the cause of the sin he fights.

A really strong bit of evidence is this interview with Asagiri and Harukawa

Not only does Asagiri reiterate Fyodors role as the person who moves the story, Harukawa specifically mentions that Fyodor might be trying to create a world without ability users because he thought it was a “bad thing to do” aka the action a villain would take that would lead to a hero stopping them.

“Dos-san is the biggest villain in the story so far, but I have continued to draw him with spaced out eyes that are neither righteous nor evil for a long time. The only time I drew his eyes completely white was when he said he would create a world without skill users. It was because, in reality, we would decide what is evil or not by our own scales, but I wasn't sure if he himself was doing it because he thought that was a bad thing to do.”

This also connects to how Fyodor was able to understand Gogol when no one else could, Gogol is chooses to fight against the way the world is to prove to himself that he truly is free. Fyodor, who is bound to play a part in a narrative, would understand that feeling and that longing to be truly free.

To be clear, I don’t think that Fyodor is really a good person whose just been trapped in an awful position against his will, we see many times that Fyodor revels in his cruelty and enjoys killing and torturing others. Its the same with “the devil” in the book, although he hates the job he was given, he tells Ivan stories of the people he’s corrupted and seems very proud of himself for it.

My personal interpretation is that the sadistic zelot personality Fyodor displays is a mixture of a mask and a coping mechanism, kind of similar to Yosano developing a sadistic side to help her deal with the guilt of half killing people in order to heal them. I think it makes sense that after centuries of cruelty and manipulation a person would become detached and stop really caring about the lives he destroys.

This analysis is partially unfinshed but I wanted to post it now and see what other people think of it.

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cxrdycxps · 3 months ago

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God’s Favorite/Devil’s Choice • Ellie Williams

☢️ religious trauma • child abuse (emotional and physical • mental illness • physical illness • emotional trauma • death ☢️

Main Masterlist • Ellie Williams Masterlist

“Momma?” You asked quietly, watching out the window at the back yard. The winter had hit Jackson hard which left the entirety of the town covered in snow and frost. It looked like someone had forgotten to draw in the details of real life.

“Yes, Baby?” Your mother hummed from her spot in the living room, feet up on the coffee table and book in her hand.

You looked down at the water your hands were in and the dishes you had just washed from dinner. You weren’t sure if you should ask but the question was eating you up inside. “Was all that really true?”

“All what, Baby?” Your mother asked. You released the water from the sink and clambered down from the chair you stood on carefully. You returned the chair to the dining table and moved slowly towards the living room, half hiding in the doorway.

“Am I really going to hell?” You asked her softly and she chuckled, patting the space beside her on the sofa. You joined her, climbing up on the cushion beside her.

“I wish you weren’t.” She sighed, pulling you onto her lap and holding you close. She rocked you slightly as you sniffled. “I’ve been trying to save your soul since birth but some people, well they’re just damned.”

You cried into her chest and she rocked you quietly, shushing you. Her hand ran up and down your back slowly and you had almost drifted to sleep when she tapped your leg. “You can’t sleep yet.”

You blinked at her sleepily before nodding, climbing down off her lap and stumbling towards the little cupboard under the stairs. You were five now. You had to say your prayers for an hour every night before bed.

The door to the closet closed behind you and plunged you into darkness. You didn’t like this part. You were afraid of the dark but your mother told you that you had to pray in here. You had to try and save your soul from hell.

///

“Well this just fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” You winced when Ellie dropped herself at your table, her arms crossed. She looked around and then looked back to you. “Why do you sit on your own? Are you the town freak, am I committing social suicide on my first day of school?”

You didn’t want to tell her. In fact you would die for just one friend that your mother hadn’t run away with her Bible rhetoric but you knew this wouldn’t last long. She was rough, always swearing and she seemed to be more world weary than you. Your mother didn’t like you to know a lot about what went outside the walls of Jackson because it opened your mind to sin.

“You kind of are.” You told her quietly. She looked around again at the other tables before shrugging and picking up her sandwich. “Dina is pretty cool. You could sit with her.”

“I’ve never been cool. I was a loser back in my old school and I met my best friend that way. Don’t want to break my lucky streak now.” She spoke with food in her mouth and grinned at you. You winced but couldn’t help the little laugh you gave her. It would be nice to have a friend for a little while again.

“Have you ever heard of Savage Starlight?” Ellie asked and you shook your head. This launched her into a massive spiel on what had to be the greatest comic book ever made and she informed you about all the characters and story lines she had gotten to read.

“‘Course I don’t know how it ends which is fucking annoying but I suppose that’s my little taste to understand how surviving the outbreak was hard. What about you?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her before shrugging. “Got any hobbies?”

“Not really. I got a lot of chores to do after school. I don’t really get time.” You explained and Ellie scrunched her face up. “It’s just me and Momma. I gotta help her out cause she’s not able to get around that easy.”

“Oh. Was she hurt?” Ellie asked softly and you smiled at her thoughtfulness but shook your head. “What then?”

“She’s getting old, she says. So I have to help. That’s my job as a daughter, you know?” You explained and she seemed to be pondering the thought before shrugging.

“I mean I’m an orphan, so not really. Joel doesn’t make me do chores because he’s boring and likes doing them. Says it reminds him of before.” Ellie explained and you nodded. It made sense.

“Were you always an orphan?” You asked and she nodded, sipping at her water. “My pa died before I was born too.”

“Nice. I don’t actually know if my dad died but I’ve been in an orphanage since basically my birth. Joel is kind of like my dad except not, you know?” Ellie asked and you shook your head. You hadn’t really ever had a dad around so you couldn’t really relate.

“Not really but I’m glad you have someone.” You told her and she smiled brightly at you.

“I think now I have two someone’s.” You shared her smile a little reluctantly. Ellie was nice, you knew that made it hurt more when they didn’t want to be friends anymore.

///

“That girl, with the swearing? Is she in your class?” Your mother asked. You were stood at the sink, staring out at the back yard. Summer had come and the flowers you had planted in the spring were all in bloom. You were rather proud of them.

“Ellie?” You asked for clarification but you knew it could only be her. She had been at the Tipsy Bison with Joel for dinner and she had been swearing up a storm. “The new girl?”

“Yes, the new girl. Don’t be daft on purpose, it doesn’t suit you.” You ducked your head focusing on the warm water your hands were in. “Is she in your class?”

“There’s only one class, Momma.” You sighed and heard the sofa creak as your mother stood from her seat. You counted the foot steps it took for her to get to you.

“That sort of cheek is the reason you’ll never get past the gates of heaven.” Your mother snapped and you winced in preparation when she took a handful of your hair and pulled you towards the cupboard under the stairs. “I don’t know why I even try with you anymore. Get in there.”

The closet had gotten cramped with age but still you were supposed to fit in and pray for at least an hour when your mother got like this. She didn’t pray with you but she did expect you to pray out loud without any pauses or noises of shuffling around.

Your eyes would adjust in a few minutes and you would have to find a cramped position in which you could be comfortable because any sign of stiffness or soreness would be seen as a regret for having prayed and earn you another hour.

“I can’t hear you.” Your voice raised in level and you counted the prayers out on your fingers hoping you didn’t miss one. She wouldn’t tell you until after and you’d have to start all over again. Tears of frustration pricked at your water line and you did your best to keep your voice steady.

You hadn’t been cheeky. You were just answering her question. She was so convinced of your damned soul that she took any chance to try absolve your sins immediately after you had committed them. You weren’t sure why you weren’t able to go a day without sinning but you knew deep down your mother was right. You were awful and you would go to hell because you had been lying to her.

You and Ellie had been friends for weeks now and she had understood when you told her that your mother didn’t like you having friends. She never approached you outside of school when you were with your mother and it had turned into one of the longest friendships you’d ever had without her to get in the way.

So you prayed a little harder for your lies and begged god not to remove the first good thing that had happened to you in years.

///

“Joel is teaching me to play guitar.” Ellie told you quietly. You were supposed to be filling out your math worksheets together but both you and Ellie were very good at math and had finished them in the first five minutes. “He wanted to be a singer when he was younger.”

“Is he any good?” You asked, laughing at the idea of big Joel Miller singing the gospel music your mother played for you when she was in a good mood.

“I think so. He’s good at country at least. I don’t know about all those old pop songs that he sings while he’s washing dishes. He just looks and sounds stupid then.” Ellie told you with a grin and you laughed again.

“He seems really fun. Me and Momma don’t have fun like that.” You told her, hand reaching up to sooth your scalp that had been burning. Four times this week she’d dragged you by your hair to pray.

“I wish you could come over to our house. Joel could make dinner and you could see the garage. I basically live on my own.” Her chest puffed out and you were in awe. You’d like to live on your own you think.

“I wish I could too. I could see all your comics and posters.” You sighed wistfully and she bumped her shoulder against yours.

“I’ll just bring them all in one by one for you to see.” She promised and you smiled brightly at her, swallowing against the almost sick feeling you got in your stomach when Ellie was nice to you.

“I know you’re gonna say this is sappy but you’re my best friend, you know that?” You asked her and she laughed.

“I’m your only friend, Angel.” That nickname seemed like it was gonna stick. Ellie had chosen it when she asked why you always paused before eating your lunch. When you had explained that you were praying she had tagged you with the nickname despite your protests that you were far from an angel.

“You’re still the best.” You promised her and she laughed, resting her head on your shoulder for a minute before straightening up again. Ellie didn’t like saying sappy stuff so she chose to touch you in some way instead, it was how she showed she liked someone. “Yeah, I know. You love me too.”

She laughed and pushed you away but you noticed her cheeks turning pink and you knew you had hit the nail on the head. You were her best friend too. You’d never had that before.

///

“Momma?” You climbed the stairs slowly, surprised to not find your mother in the living room when you got home from school. There was no reply to your call and you found the bathroom door wide open along with your mothers bedroom door.

But yours was shut tightly.

You weren’t sure why your heart was pounding as you stepped closer to the door, your hand reaching for the door knob. You took a deep breath and turned it, pushing the door open.

Your room was destroyed, everything pulled out of place, all of your books open and tattered on the ground. Your dresser drawers were overturned on the ground with your clothes spilled everywhere. “Momma?”

She was sitting on the edge of your bed, just waiting and watching your reaction. You looked around again and then back to her for explanation. “Are you okay?”

Your stomach was sinking and your lungs were constricting. She knew something she shouldn’t know and you only had one secret when it came to your mother. There was only one you couldn’t share. Ellie Williams.

“You’ve been very careful.” Your mother noted casually. Like she wasn’t in the middle of your upturned room, like she hadn’t made this mess. “Not even a trace of her.”

Of course there wasn’t. She had wanted you to bring home some of her comics but you had denied her. All the little notes she had written you were tucked away in your workbook in class. You knew better than to think you had that level of privacy at home. “Trace of who, Momma?”

“Ellie Williams.” Her tone was cold and you stayed in the doorway, not daring to get any closer to her when she was like this. It was a long way down the stairs to the cupboard if she got your hair now.

“I don’t know what you mean, Momma.” Your voice shook and she laughed at you. You didn’t know how your mother made such an expression of joy manage to be the exact opposite, cold and unfeeling.

“If I didn’t know better then I’d believe you.” She said and you swallowed, looking around again like you had been careless enough to forget something. “But when Joel Miller approached me to ask could you have a sleepover, promised it wouldn’t interrupt your chores. I had to pretend to know that you’d been talking to his girl.”

You felt faint. Your hand reached out for the door frame to steady yourself when your knees buckled. You had been so careful but not careful enough.

Your mother lifted her hands and settled a long black belt over her lap, smoothing the leather of it with her index fingers. It was your belt and you suddenly had to fight the urge to vomit.

“I always knew your soul was damned.” She sighed like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “But I never could’ve guessed to what extent. You’ve broken two commandments.”

“Momma, I didn’t.” You spoke quickly, fear pulsing adrenaline around your body. “I didn’t lie to you. I promise. I never told you that we talked because we sit beside each other in class. We aren’t friends, Momma. She just doesn’t understand that I have other priorities, Momma.”

The words burned you to speak them. It felt a greater sin to forsake Ellie’s friendship than to lie to your mother and when the tears pricked your eyes you knew it to be true. “I’m sorry, Momma.”

“You’ve just lied to me again, haven’t you?” She asked and you nodded slowly. There wasn’t a god on this world or the next that would have you deny Ellie.

“She’s nice to me, Momma. She doesn’t treat me mean the way everyone else does.” You explained through your tears. “I just wanted one friend. Just one.”

“You have one friend. The only friend you need. Jesus Christ who died for your sins.” Your mother stood and walked towards you.

“It’s not a sin to love Ellie, Momma. She’s my best friend.” Your mother froze in place, her eyes narrowed at you. You realized your mistake a second too late. “Not like that, Momma. We’re just friends.”

“Praying ain’t enough for you, child.” She handed over the belt and you stared at it in confusion. You had expected her to hit you with it. Maybe you were too harsh on your mother. “Go on, ten lashes.”

“You want me to-”

“Over your back. You’ll have to take your top of but self flagellation will work better than prayer. Don’t go easy either, if it don’t hurt it ain’t working.” She urged and you stared at her, bile crawling up your throat. “Come on now.”

“Momma, I didn’t do anything wrong.” You sobbed but she didn’t move, watching you with those cold eyes. “Momma.”

“Ten. I’ll count.”

///

“Dude, where the hell were you?” Ellie exclaimed when you took your seat next to her almost four days later. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you fought the hiss of pain, leaning into the comfort of her embrace.

You had suffered for this sin, you might as well commit it now.

“Got sick.” You explained and she let you go, looking you over. You knew how you looked. Your eyes were puffy and you were walking with a stiffness that came from being on your knees praying for almost three days straight.

“Damn, you look like hell.” She whispered and you couldn’t help the laugh. Hell was only the half of it. You had been through it all and back again in the last four days and you had made a decision.

You were choosing Ellie. No matter the pain or the punishment, you weren’t going to lose Ellie. You’d rather face an eternity of Hell in the afterlife than choose a moment without her in this one.

“I missed you.” You told her quietly and let your head rest on her shoulder. It pulled at your back but the comfort outweighed the pain you were feeling and so you didn’t move. “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too.” Ellie promised quietly, her head resting against yours. “And don’t be mad but Joel totally put his foot in it the other day. He asked you mom why you couldn’t sleep over. He didn’t know it was a secret.”

“Oh.” You tried to keep your voice steady. “She never said anything. Probably thought he had the wrong person.”

“Thats a relief. I didn’t want you to get in trouble over me.” Ellie sighed and the pair of you sat up when class began. Ellie kept her leg firmly against yours though and you were grateful for the comfort it offered.

When lunch came about Mrs Collins called your name and held you back while everyone else went to get food. You made you way up to her desk and she gave you a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You promised her. Your mother had told everyone that you had been sick. You weren’t sure why it wasn’t a sin when she lied.

“Your mother told me you got a pretty nasty case of food poisoning?” Mrs Collins asked and you nodded, wondering was this another sin to pray for. “She also made a strange request.”

Your heart dropped and you looked back over your shoulder to where Ellie was waiting for you in the doorway, her back to you both. “Please don’t.”

“You want to tell me why she wouldn’t want you sitting by Ellie?” Mrs Collins asked and you shook your head, tears in your eyes. “If Ellie is hurting you or being mean to you then you can tell me.”

“No. She’s my best friend. Please don’t. I’m not allowed see her outside of school.” You explained in a rush, knowing you shouldn’t be sharing this much.

“Okay. It’s okay.” Mrs Collins insisted and you wiped at your face to dry the tears you didn’t mean to shed. “You and Ellie can stay beside each other. I’ll tell your mother I separated you both.”

///

“Only two weeks left.” You and Ellie were sixteen now, sitting with your backs against the school house. Well, Ellie was sitting back, you were a little more mindful of how the rough stone might hurt.

“What are we going to do then?” Ellie still didn’t understand the extent of your reasoning for why your mother couldn’t see you both being friends. She thought that you were old enough now to just make your own decisions.

“Well we could work together right? Your mom can’t stop that. You have to work in Jackson.” That much was true but you knew Ellie wanted to patrol just like Joel did. She had the urge to always be trying to save the world and you knew your mother wouldn’t allow it.

“You want to patrol. I’ll probably end up a waitress or in the greenhouses.” You sighed and ran a hand over your face. Ellie laughed a little and reached for your hand, tangling your fingers together and you paused, staring at them.

Ellie was turning steadily red but she didn’t let go, she tightened her grip and tugged so you’d turn to look at her. “I do want to patrol. But I want to spend time with you more. I can clean dishes or something if needs be.”

You stared at Ellie, your head tilted slightly as you studied her. She didn’t hide from you but she was blushing fully this time. You stared a second longer.

Oh.

“Ellie.” You sighed before laughing. She attempted to free her hand but you held on tighter. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“How?” She exclaimed and it seemed like she had been holding this in for a long time with how it burst out of her. “I know you’re like super religious and most religious people hate gay people and we’re best friends and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Ellie.” You laughed again before reaching out and clasping her face in your hands. You didn’t give her a second, pulling her in and kissing her firmly. “I would walk into hell gladly knowing that I’ve held heaven in my hands.*”

“Oh you’re so fucking gay.” Ellie laughed and kissed you again, her fingers tangling in your hair. Those words should’ve terrified you but you had come to terms with it years ago while you willingly took lashings for punishment. You knew you’d take any form of torture to get to this point.

“I can’t tell anyone. Not yet. My momma will find out but Ellie, I’ve got a plan.” You promised and she smiled, her hand moving from your hair to cup your cheek.

“I haven’t told Joel yet. It’s okay.” She promised, her forehead pressing to yours.

///

You’d had a plan. It had been a good plan. Your best plan yet. Your plan did not factor Ellie and her teeth into account. The small mark she had made, definitely an accident, had given you away. Your mother had always been more than suspicious of Ellie and it seemed that even though a small bruise could be from any number of things it only made sense that it was her when paired with swollen lips and a light in your eyes.

“No.” She held the belt out to you and for the first time you refused it, shaking your head and crossing your arms. Fire burned in your mothers eyes and her jaw clenched.

“You have sins you need to repent for. You’ll burn in hell.” She cautioned and you felt the tears finally fall from your eyes, your bravery slipping away.

“Momma I love her. I’ve been in love with her since before I knew what it was.” You sobbed and she looked even angrier if possible. “How can this be wrong?”

“No child of mine will embarrass me like this before God himself.” Your mother insisted and you lifted your hands in desperation. “I won’t stand for it.”

“What more can you do?” You asked her quietly, desperately. Your love for Ellie wasn’t a flaw and it couldn’t be a sin. You didn’t want to be fixed or cured or healed. Something that felt this pure couldn’t be anything other than a blessing.

“I told you. I won’t have it.” Your mother insisted and you stared at her, unable to understand her threat. “The Lord says suicide is a sin but surely he’d understand I just couldn’t be tainted by your sin.”

“Momma, don’t do that.” You couldn’t help your tears. “It’s not bad. It’s not!”

“It is and you know it. You wouldn’t have hidden it if you weren’t ashamed of your sin.” She told you and you choked back on your sobs. “You knew that you’d never be without sin but to go and do this. I knew since you were born that you were filled with sin but I didn’t think it was cause you were one of them!”

“Momma! You know I can’t change it. I can’t. I love her.” You were choking on the tears and she only shook her head. “You can’t do that, Momma. You can’t.”

“You want me to stay alive then you stop seeing her.”

///

“Hey Angel, you okay?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her before shaking your head.

“I can’t do this. I thought I could but I can’t.” Your back was raw from the amount of repenting you had required the evening before.

“Can’t do what?” Ellie asked, unsure.

“This. Us. I thought I could reconcile it but it’s not something I can allow myself to do.” You told her, tears already flowing down your cheeks.

“What? Allow yourself to what?” Ellie asked. “Be fucking happy?”

“I won’t be happy if I move out of my Momma’s. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving her there.” You told Ellie honestly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise this before.”

“You can’t be serious.” Ellie stared at you, her face guarded like you were going to laugh and tell her it was a sick joke. “You are serious.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You wanted her to understand but she was too heroic. She would try help if she thought this wasn’t your decision.

“Yeah. So am I for not taking your fucking word for it the first day I met you. I should’ve sat with someone else.”

///

“Saw your girl started patrol today.” You looked up from the soapy water in the sink to where your mother was standing by the back door. You blinked at her, coming out of the daze you had been in. “That ain’t no job for a woman.”

She had been horrible the last few weeks. Telling you all about Ellie’s coming and goings when you refused to leave the house for anything other than work. Washing dishes down at the Bison. Everyone had to do their part, you hated doing yours.

It wasn’t a bad job per se. You could zone out and let muscle memory take over as you scrubbed the plates clean. No one talked to you much on account of your mother and it got you out of the house for a few hours every evening.

The problem was Ellie came to the diner every night with Dina and Jesse. She didn’t linger and you doubted that she even knew you were in the back. But you always found a second to pause when you heard her voice, as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

“You never had anything to say when any other women go on patrol. Maria’s been doing it since the walls went up.” Your head jerked back with her grip on your hair and her hand pressed to the spot between your shoulder blades causing you to hiss.

“I didn’t ask for your sass.” She warned and you blinked back tears from the pain. “I think you oughta get to praying.”

“I got work, Momma.” You told her and she gripped your hair tighter. Her hand dug into your back, nails pressing deep.

“Better go get the belt then if you’re in such a hurry.” Your mother spat and released your hair. “Every time you talk like that I get reminded that you’re a child of the devil.”

You had a hard time believing that having the devil for a mother would be any different than the Momma you had.

///

It was years before you saw the signs. You had turned twenty one under your mothers watchful glare. She threatened harm on herself if you so much as came home late from work. You wondered why you cared so much that she remained unharmed when you hadn’t been able to lie on your back for years.

It all became clear one night when you followed the noise of her downstairs. She was standing in the kitchen, looking around in confusion. “Baby, what’re you doing up so late?”

She hadn’t called you Baby in years. Not since before you had met Ellie. She claimed that no baby of hers could be full of sin. “Just checking you’re okay, Momma.”

“I’m fine. Just a little lost.” She told you, an airy laugh on her lips. “I can’t find the bathroom.”

She was standing in a puddle.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dealing with her was both harder and easier after your discovery. Maria let you stay home and care for her when you went to her and explained what was happening. There wasn’t exactly a nursing home you could send her to.

She began to pass through phases, a different version of your mother every time you talked to her. Sometimes you had your Momma back, a sweet woman who told you how pretty you’d grown to be. Sometimes you had your mother, the one who remembered Ellie.

Then one morning, the month you were turning twenty two, you had no mother. She had fallen asleep in her rocking chair and that was where you found her.

You sat with her for a long time. Just staring at her and wondered when it had gotten to the point that you stopped caring about her. Her death didn’t seem to have done anything besides giving you a sense of freedom you had only ever felt once before with Ellie’s lips on yours and her hands in your hair.

You found it within yourself to change her and wash her. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to do it. You laid her out in her own bed and then made your way down to the clinic to get a doctor to finally free you from her.

///

You had elected not to have a funeral service for your mother. You hadn’t even attended her burial yourself. No one had liked your mother, not even you. Maria had tried to sympathize with you but you hadn’t let her. She was the only one who tried.

You found yourself moving out of her house and into a small one bedroom cottage Maria had offered up. You returned to the Bison to wash dishes. You lived a boring life without prayers or belts or a constant ache on your scalp from having your hair pulled out by the root.

You could read books and leave the dishes overnight and play music that didn’t mention Jesus. Your back healed up but would forever be scarred but you knew without a doubt that your pain was at an end.

It had ended alongside her heartbeat and you knew for sure it was a bad thing to think but you no longer punished yourself for bad thoughts.

You no longer punished yourself.

///

A knock on the door gave you a pause and you looked up from your book to the living room window but you couldn’t see your front porch from the angle you were sat at. Just the pouring rain that had washed into Jackson a couple of days ago.

You pushed yourself up and answered the door, expecting Maria who came to check up on you monthly to make sure you hadn’t succumbed to madness while being so isolated.

It wasn’t Maria. It was Ellie.

She was soaked, rain water running down her hair and face into her clothes. You couldn’t say anything and chose instead to just stare at her as she left a puddle on your porch.

“Your mom died?” She asked and you marveled in how you had gone from speaking to her every day for almost four years to have gone longer without her words aimed at you.

“She did.” You answered slowly after a few minutes of just the rain for background noise. You continued to stare at her.

“I’m sorry.” You blinked, falling out of your trance at the condolences she offered. You folded your arms across your chest.

“What do you want Ellie?” You didn’t mean to sound harsh but you didn’t want her apologies. You wanted her to leave so you could get on with your quiet life.

“I want to know if she was the reason.” Ellie stopped pretending the second you did, grim determination on her face.

“We were kids, Ellie.” You sighed and she wiped the water off her face and clenched her jaw. “You can’t be still thinking about it.”

“Still thinking about it?” She exclaimed. “I ain’t stopped thinking about you. I’ve spent the last six years wondering if your mom wasn’t around would we be together.”

“Ellie.” You sighed heavily, stepping back from the doorway. She looked panicked for a second and you opened the door wider. “Come in before you catch your death.”

///

You got Ellie clothes to change into and a towel to dry herself off. When she returned to your living room she was wrapped in your clothes, toweling her hair dry. You had lit the small fire in your living room and now you were standing by the window, watching the rain.

“I didn’t know she had died.” Ellie spoke quietly and you looked up at her, releasing a sigh. You took a seat on your sofa, inviting Ellie to sit next to you. “Maria mentioned it in passing while we were at dinner. I came straight over here.”

“She had dementia or Alzheimer’s. One of those. It was bound to happen.” You explained to her and she nodded slowly.

“I know you really loved her.” Ellie sighed and you turned your head to look at her.

“I didn’t. Not really. I had a really tough life with her.” You explained to Ellie and she nodded like she had always known that. She didn’t get to nod like that. She didn’t know the half of it. “I think she had her sickness my whole life. She was batshit insane.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Ellie asked and you shrugged. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t been able to tell anyone. Mostly, you reasoned, you hadn’t known she was sick. How could you tell Ellie that you thought you were the problem? That you were so full of sin even your own mother couldn’t love you?

“It was my problem to deal with.” You told her honestly. “What are you really doing here?”

“To see if your okey. To see if there’s a chance we got it wrong at sixteen.” Ellie turned to face you, drawing her knees up to her chest. You couldn’t look at her.

“We?” You asked, picking at your nail beds and ignoring how close she was, how your body lit up in response.

“Yeah. We. You for calling it all off and me for letting you walk away.” You turned to look at her, incredulous. “I shouldn’t have given up.”

“That’s exactly what you should’ve done. Anything else would’ve made it so much worse.” You told her, pinching the bridge of your nose to ward off the headache you could feel coming.

“I could’ve helped!” Ellie insisted. “I could’ve given you the support you needed.”

“You couldn’t have made me straight!” You yelled, standing up from the sofa. You paced back to the window, staring out at the rain. “I needed to not be like this. You couldn’t have fixed that. She hated me.”

“She was your mother.” Ellie argued and you scoffed, fighting the urge to turn and look at her. “She had to have loved you.”

“She told me she’d kill herself if I went back to you.” You turned then, wanting to see the look in her eyes. The look of disgust because you gave in, you let her control you. But Ellie didn’t look disgusted, she looked horrified. “I came home one evening with swollen lips and this tiny mark on my jaw and she knew what we’d been doing. She told me that if I kept talking about loving you that she’d kill herself to not be stained by my sin.”

“She was sick. She didn’t know what she was-” your hand went to the hem of your T-shirt, pulling it up so that she could see your back. The criss cross of scars that overlapped. Years of torture and abuse. All of it culminating in this. “Angel.”

Ellie breathed that old nickname and you dropped your shirt but she caught it, having moved closer without your knowing. Her fingers ghosted over your skin and her breath came out shaky.

“When did this start?” Ellie asked and you laughed bitterly. “This isn’t a fucking joke. When did it start?”

“The day Joel asked for a sleepover. I told you she couldn’t know. I guess you just didn’t understand why.” She let your shirt drop and you turned around to find yourself face to face with her. “She told me that I was damned at five years of age. She used to make me pray in the dark for hours at a time. When I was twelve she made me hurt myself to repent for the sin of loving you. I never could. I repented for not being sorry instead.”

“I could’ve helped. I could’ve gotten you out.” Ellie sighed, her hand coming up to your cheek. You leaned into her and closed your eyes against the emotions that were welling up. “I could’ve fucking killed her for you.”

“I would’ve taken you up on that. Isn’t the awful?” You asked her but she shook her head, wrapping her arms around you. “I was so relieved when she died.”

“Guess I don’t have to feel bad for feeling the same way. I always knew it was her. Cause this, what’s going on with us, we might’ve been kids but I know what I felt, Angel. This was the real deal.” Ellie whispered against your neck and then you let it happen. You let the tears fall. You held her tightly and you sobbed for everything you could’ve had for the last six years.

///

You were sitting on the sofa, curled up against Ellie’s chest. Her hands softly stroked your hair and you were struck silent by the parallel of your mother doing the exact opposite, hurting you so violently.

“So you gonna cut me loose or keep me this time?” Ellie asked quietly. You looked up at her and without speaking cupped her cheek in your hand and pulled her down to your level. You pressed a sweet kiss to her lips and she smiled. “Not afraid of Hell any more?”

“If loving you leads me to hell then I’ll sit at the table with all the others who gave up the idea of an eternity of heaven for a short time with the true meaning of paradise.”

*Lyra Wren on tiktok

#ellie williams x afab reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #tlou ellie #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #the last of us #tlou

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fatale-distraction · 11 months ago

Text

BG3 Companions Social Media Headcanons Part 1

I was bored at work and couldn’t stop. 🤣 I’ll make another post with Halsin, Minthara, Jaheira, Minsc, and some NPCs!

~~~

Astarion - Pre-Tav, Astarion's social media is mostly thirst-traps for some kind of nefarious, Cazador-related money-making plot. They barely scoot past the TOS on lewd content. Very little real personal content, anything that isn't a thirst trap is heavily doctored lifestyle content to make it seem like he's living a much more luxurious life than he actually is.

After meeting Tav and getting rid of Cazador, he deletes all of his old accounts and opens up new ones. They're not exactly private, but he's much more careful about who he follows and who can follow him back. The posts become much more genuine. Still a lot of selfies, but they're sexy in the way of a guy just finally living his truth and being comfortable in his own skin. There's more shots of his daily life; waking up with his partner's obnoxious pets strewn across the bed, morning coffee and his current favorite book, new outfits that make him feel more himself. Tav features heavily in most of his posts, and there are probably as many pictures of them as there are of himself.

Karlach - chaos. No rhyme or reason. Lots of parkour and Jack-ass parodies. Constant flood of pictures of her stuffed animal collection. Stupid filters abound. There's several videos of her just flexing. Lumberjack videos. Seven hundred pictures of Tav, tons of selfies together. Videos of her literally sobbing over some cute stuffy she found or a dog she got to pet. "How many times can I say the fuck word before I get suspended." Memes. Memes everywhere.

Lae'zel - She follows three accounts and never posts anything, but somehow she's constantly scrolling through. What does she even do? Her profile picture is still the default. She doesn't have any profile information filled out. It just says "No." Her screen name is just Lae_zel. Every single item in her favorites is a cat video. She has One photo and its a gym selfie. All of her comments seem really mean at first, but they're all weirdly supportive things along the lines of "your teeth are sharp and your visage terrifying".

Shadowheart - total E-girl influencer vibe. Everything is #nofilter. She doesn't need filters. She's god's most perfect princess. You can't even be mad because it's not vanity its just how she Is. Ends everything with Prayer-hands-emoji hashtag Shar'sblessings or Selune'sblessings depending on where she is in that journey. Hairstyle and makeup tutorials and she makes it look so damn easy. "Dye my hair and cut my bangs with me." "Get ready with me" videos nearly every day. Every picture has a comment from Astarion that just says "oh fuck off" because even he can never hope to be as perfect as she is. Or at least that's what her forty-five thousand followers think.

Wyll - The official Blade of the Frontier social media account(s). Fencing videos and promos. "How to polish your horns for newbies" video that's been taken down twenty-seven times for lewd content even though it's literally for polishing actual horns. Accidental thirst traps because damn. Lots of disability advocacy, especially for visual impairments. Weekly Demon/Devil PSAs. Constantly featured in Karlach's vids and vice-versa. Buddy selfies. Once in a while a pic of him with his dad. Pics with Tav are rare, but when he does post them they're the sweetest pictures and he gushes about them for paragraphs. It's a little gross how gushy they are. Astarion comments with vomit emojis and Wyll just replies with an angry face emoji. The purest content. He's so wholesome. Not a swear to be seen. Lots of gentle hype videos. "You've got this. You can do this. I believe in you."

Gale - oh my god he has the most pretentious social media accounts. He's worse than Astarion. "Well, actually" videos with multiple parts because they're too long. Tea and bookshelves. Tara. So many pics of Tara. Tara napping on a book. Tara swatting a fly. Tara in the window. Tara on the kitchen counter. Tara laying in the sun. Tara doing nothing. He has one of those fancy cat terrarium backpacks. Magic tutorials. Mystra simp. Surprisingly few selfies but the ones he has are IMMACULATE. Pretentious book reviews. His only saving grace is that he is HILARIOUS. He's the only one with a reasonable about of pics with Tav as opposed to almost none or way too many, but the captions are always really sweet.

~~~

Part 2 here!

Part 3 here!

Part 4

#baldur's gate 3 #Baldur’s gate 3 Headcanons #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #shadowheart #astarion #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #astarion ancunin #lae'zel #karlach

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romanoffsbish · 1 year ago

Text

The Tournament

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Natasha was never one to shy away from a challenge, and your body paid the ultimate price. | WC: 1,254

Natasha was exhausted.

It had been ten hours of this. On and off

Mostly on, and you, well you were not cognizant.

——

The redhead had mistakenly read one of Tony's world record books, it was a gag that he childishly bought. In the section dedicated to fornication she had read that the longest "episode of sex" to have been recorded, with no change in intimacy partners, was five hours long. So of course, Natasha Romanoff, the competitive devil, took the challenge on to double it, ensuring that no one (human-wise) ever beat her record.

You knew when you met her on the battlefield that she was an overachiever. It was the way that she had been graceful the entire time she choked the enemy with her beefy, as well as soft, thighs. To the now, where she fell beside you with an arm that held no functionality. All of the adrenaline faded and she huffed a tired chuckle.

What a night it had been she mused within the hollow confines of her dimming mind. Though sore she was able to get out of bed and work to clean you up. The moment you two had hit hour eight you were snoring. Natasha admired the way your body convulsed with every sleep time orgasm, even if you couldn't feel it, you were having the time of your unconscious life.

The you of the morning will be gobsmacked and in some way turned on. Your vagina that should be in ruins would likely pulse with a sharp, painful need. For now though she settled your core beneath a pair of fresh panties and slipped you up the bed and onto the pillows that were designed for you. Then she cleaned up the room of any evidence. She took the toys down to the small, second kitchen you had and tossed them into the designated dishwasher. Then she finished off the tray of peanut butter sandwiches she'd made for the nights necessary fuel station. She also had vodka, and an assortment of chocolate and fruit to munch on.

The rules of the book stated that breaks that lasted less than three minutes were ebbed into the flow of things.

Natasha was terrified to let you down, and by you she meant her very annoying sense of pride. Which is why the night started off with you in the captains position. Your soft lips painted her skin a lovely blend of maroon and lilac, the blue to forge a galaxy would come later.

The way she mewled for you felt pornographic, and then you remembered she had planned to record this for proof. You shakily agreed so she set up five cameras around the room. At each two hour mark when she stopped to drink some water or bite into a peanut butter sandwich she'd stop the one and start the other when she was back. Each clip got a different angle, each with their own feature and timestamped to the second to further prove the breaks weren't prolonged.

Natasha nearly killed you when her knees locked behind your head; but you didn't mind. You whispered a prayer against her pussy that she'd hopefully find you in paradise one day, then she came with a miracle on the dancing tastebuds of your tongue. Oxygen filled your lungs just as it excavated hers, the both of you spluttered as you choked on her slick, and she forgot how to breathe in place of the dizzying pleasure.

Thirty minutes down, but you were far from tired. It showed in the wild irises Natasha's soft emeralds met. Whenever you looked at her like that she lost all of her sense of authority. You'd flipped her over and fingered her while backhanding and palming at her smooth ass. Natasha grunted at each slap then moaned at the thrusts, it was husky and made your body tremble.

Natasha chased every single high you offered her, and she was near to losing count when you slowed down. You'd made it to hour three, and that's when the need to rest began to set in. Natasha saw it, and flipped you over so she could take over. You'd lasted longer than anytime before in one straight session and she was so incredibly proud, but more importantly turned on.

"Fuck Y/N," she panted against your cheek as her fingers slid through your slick folds. "You made me cum eight times and my pussy is still throbbing as you moan in my ear." Her lips lowered further, hot breath tickled your ear and you giggled breathily. "Keep going my sweet girl, you're in for a long night so keep it up."

You did your best too, entertaining her with answers to her filthy questions, moaning and thrashing as she found a new way to get you to your new best orgasm, but then your lethargy began to set in once again.

At hour six Natasha had sat your limp form up and nourished you back to life within the time constraint. Offering you a bit more enjoyment before the eventual KO took place. Your cries turned into whimpers, then choked moans until the sound of skin slapping and slick sliding was all she could focus on as she thrusted.

There was no time to feel any aches when focusing on keeping your body mindlessly jolting so Natasha built up her mental walls and in the long run gave herself carpal tunnel. In the end she felt it was worth it, as she won the fictitious title of "longest sex (love making) session ever recorded," and then she found you three days later after coming home early (at midnight as opposed to 7am) with your fingers inside you as your eyes were transfixed on her head between your legs.

"Wanna make a new record?" You jumped up and held your slick hand out in front of you to stall her request from happening, but all the redhead did was lunge and take your fingers into her greedy mouth. She moaned at the uniquely tangy taste, but her eyes creased in contradiction as your slivered nail scraped her palate.

"I need to taste you," she grunted and you gasped, "Natasha baby please." She shushed you with a bruising kiss and rubbed your cunt against her latex suit. You choked on her tongue and she chuckled, "It's okay detka, you can admit that you need me, I'm here."

"I'm sensitive," you whimpered and she kissed the bridge of your nose in comfort. "I'll be gentle detka, I just want to spend four hours talking to your pussy. Gonna tell you all the reasons why I love you while your moans convey the same message back to me."

"Please," you were breathless now and this time you were beckoning her closer instead of away. She pecked your lips then pulled away abruptly to keep her focus on a shower, while also making you stumble. "Get on the bed with nothing on detka, keep your hands to yourself and sit pretty while I take my quick shower."

"Be fast mommy," you cried and she cackled as the door shut, showing you her intentions to edge you.

You smirked, excited that your plan had worked, much unlike your legs would come morning; Natasha would now likely spend the entire week at your beck and call.

In the end, everyone wins.

Well, except for Tony, who had to fork out the cash for sound proofing the walls and sending Steve to therapy.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff blurb #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #gxg #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader

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nomercymaster11 · 5 months ago

Text

In his absence

@GOKUJOUNOMAGURO

A/N: Law x you, afab!reader, R-18! NSFW This is a short, two-part story to celebrate reaching 200 followers! Thanks for all your support. My imagination goes crazy when I think about Law, so I hope you enjoy the story. (I just had to come up with a scenario to fit in the exciting bits. haha)

Law gently placed his hand atop your head, His touch feels reassuring, but also carries a strong sense of resolve.

"I'll be back before you even realize I'm gone," he murmured, the back of his hand caressing your cheek tenderly. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword as he turned away, striding purposefully towards the rail's edge.

With a swift movement, Law activated his devil fruit ability, vanishing into thin air before your eyes. The subtle hum of the submarine's engines filled the silence left in his wake, and you found yourself retreating inside. You’re already feeling the heaviness of his absence starting to sink in.

You pulled the lever to seal the metal door behind you. The familiar pang of worry gnawed at your heart, despite knowing that Law's solo missions were always executed with precision and skill. Yet, the unease lingered, a continuous reminder of the risks he may encounter outside the safety of the submarine's walls. You couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort that accompanied each departure, the uncertainty of when he would return amplifying your fears.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to the wait, knowing that no amount of fretting would hasten Law's return.

^^^

Each day began with a silent prayer for his safe return. You found yourself falling into a routine. It had become a ritual, visiting his cabin first before attending to the other rooms in the submarine. It was a small gesture, a way to keep his presence close, even when he was away on his missions.

Stepping into Law's cabin, you couldn't help but miss him. The space seemed to echo with his presence. Memories flooded your mind, each item holding a story, a connection to the man you loved. Running your fingers over the neatly arranged belongings on his desk, you smile at the thought of him. His meticulous nature was reflected in every corner of the room, from the neatly folded clothes to the orderly stack of books on his nightstand.

With a tender sigh, you set about your task, straightening the sheets on his bed with a gentle touch. It had been a few months since you started dating and sharing his bed had become a cherished ritual. The warmth of his embrace lingered in the softness of the blankets, a reminder of the intimacy you shared in the quiet moments between missions.

Sitting at the edge of Law's bed, you reached for a pillow, clutching it tightly to your chest as if it were a lifeline to the memories of him. Slowly, you allowed yourself to sink into the softness of the mattress, the pillow pressing against you like a comforting embrace.

Closing your eyes, you let the memories flood your mind, the last time you had made love with him, dancing vividly in your thoughts. You remembered the way he kissed you, his lips claiming yours with a passion that ignited every fiber of your being. Sensuality and tenderness intertwined as he explored the contours of your mouth, each touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Your breath caught in your throat as you recalled the sensation of his lips trailing down your neck, igniting a symphony of sensations that coursed through your veins like wildfire. His movements were deliberate yet gentle, proof of how deeply he loves and wants you.

With each passing moment, the memories grew more vivid, the sensation of his touch lingering on your skin like an imprint of his love. You could almost feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his whispered words of adoration sending shivers down your spine.

Lost in the haze of memory, you savored every moment, every touch, as if it were happening all over again. In that fleeting moment of bliss, you found solace in the knowledge that no matter the distance, the bond you shared with Law transcended time and space, a love that burned brighter with each passing day.

With a deep sigh, you let your right hand slide across your body, moving with a slow, deliberate grace. You began to massage your right breast through the fabric of your shirt, savoring the comforting warmth and the gentle pressure of your touch. The sensation brought a small, bittersweet pleasure, like a whisper of something more profound.

As your hand ventured downward, tracing a path over your stomach, a wave of longing surged through you, intensifying the ache between your legs. Just thinking about him, his touch, his presence, sent a fire through your veins, making your heart race and your body tremble with unfulfilled desire.

Yet, before you could give in to the growing temptation, a firm resolve washed over you. You remembered the promise he had extracted from you, his words echoing in your mind like a sacred vow: to abstain from self-pleasure while he was away on his missions. It was a pact made in the heat of passion, a testament to the bond you shared.

With a heavy heart, you forced yourself to stop, the ache between your legs a poignant reminder of the pleasure you denied yourself. This act of restraint, though difficult, felt like a tribute to the depth of your love and the trust that defined your relationship. For him, even your most intimate moments were reserved, a gift to be shared only in his presence.

The longing within you burned brightly, but you found a strange solace in the anticipation of his return. The promise of his touch, his embrace, held your desire in check. And so, you waited with bated breath, knowing that soon he would come back to you, ready to claim what was his, to fill the void with the ecstasy you both craved. Until then, you held on, each day bringing you closer to the moment when you would no longer have to wait.

After tidying up Law's cabin, you gathered his dirty laundry and deposited it into the basket, closing the door with a soft click. Lost in your thoughts, you turned around only to bump into Penguin, who greeted you with his usual exuberance.

"Hey!" Penguin exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. "Wait, are you crying?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he noticed the mistiness in your eyes.

Quickly composing yourself, you shook your head. "No, I don't. Maybe it's just the dust from cleaning his room," you offered, hoping to deflect any further inquiries about your emotional state.

"Liar," Penguin retorted with a playful grin, flicking his finger gently against your forehead. "Well, I don't blame you if you're missing him already," he added, his tone softening as he acknowledged the weight of Law's absence.

"Anyway, if you ever feel lonely, you know where to find us. Whether it's in the common area or the control room, we'll be there to keep you company," Penguin reassured you, his words a comforting reminder of the bond you shared with your fellow crewmates.

With a nod, you thanked him for his understanding, the warmth of his smile easing the ache in your heart.

"Thank you," you replied, gratitude coloring your voice as you returned his smile.

^^^ the next day ^^^

As you slowly eat your food, your gaze drifted over each member of the crew, each face telling a unique story of how they came to join the Heart Pirates. Despite Law's reputation as a notorious criminal in the eyes of the world government, to you and everyone aboard the submarine, he was so much more. He was a leader, a friend, and a beloved captain, cherished by all who sailed under his flag.

Lost in your thoughts of him, you couldn't help but smile, the memory of his presence filling you with warmth and affection. Unbeknownst to you, the trio of Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo observed you with amusement, their eyes lingering on you.

It wasn't until their gaze became too noticeable to ignore that you looked up, startled to find their attention focused squarely on you. Penguin, ever the romantic, let out a dreamy sigh as he rested his elbow on the table, his chin propped up by his hand.

"Look who's madly in love with our Captain," he teased, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Shachi, always the skeptic, chimed in with a quizzical expression.

"Does the captain treat you well?" he inquired; his tone laced with curiosity. "I still can't picture him being sweet to you," he admitted, his skepticism evident in his words as he continued to fork a vegetable from his plate.

Bepo, ever the observant one, added his own input with a wide-eyed innocence. "Oh! I saw them holding hands the other day," he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement at the memory.

Penguin leaned in slightly, his tone turning more serious as he addressed you. "Anyway, (y/n), thank you for being patient with him," he said, his gaze softening with genuine appreciation. "You were his first lover, after all," he added, a hint of significance underlying his words.

"Really? That's news to me," you replied, taken aback by the revelation. The idea hadn't crossed your mind, and you found yourself surprised that Law hadn't shared such intimate details with you.

"I'm surprised he didn't tell you that," Penguin said, his eyebrows furrowing in perplexity. With a tinge of skepticism in your voice, you shook your head.

"It doesn't seem like the case to me, which is why I haven't asked him about it," you said. They don't realize that Law looks after you the manner you choose. Simply put, he doesn't display it while someone is present.

As the conversation took a playful turn, Shachi couldn't resist chiming in with a knowing grin. "As long as he doesn't make you cry, except in a different scenario," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Penguin quickly caught on to his friend's playful banter, joining in with a chuckle.

"STOP! Oh my god!" you exclaimed.

Your cheeks flushed at their words, a wave of love and embarrassment pouring over you. Despite their teasing, you couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude for their acceptance and camaraderie. In the heart of the submarine, surrounded by your fellow crewmates, you found solace in the knowledge that your love for Law was not only accepted but celebrated amongst those who mattered most.

^^^ a few days later ^^^

Tonight, you’ll be sleeping in his cabin again, just like you did the previous nights when he wasn't there. You slip out of your overall suit, feeling the fabric slide off your skin, and reach for one of his unwashed polo shirts hanging nearby. As you pull it over your head, the familiar scent of him— a mix of his cologne and the lingering smell of antiseptic— envelops you, bringing a small comfort. The shirt is oversized, its hem brushing against your thighs, but it wraps around you like a warm embrace, providing a sense of security.

Though your body feels like it could melt into the mattress from exhaustion, your mind buzzes with the remnants of the day’s events. You wander over to his cluttered desk and pick up one of his medical textbooks, the cover worn from frequent use. Climbing onto the bed, you settle against the headboard, the cool metal pressing against your back. With a sigh, you bend your knees and rest the hefty book on your lap.

The cabin is cozy tonight, the gentle hum of the heater filling the silence. You grab the blanket draped at the foot of the bed and pull it over your legs, cocooning yourself in its soft folds. You nestle into the pillows, arranging them snugly at your side, creating a little nest against the cold, hard wall.

As you start reading, the words blur and your eyelids grow heavier with each passing minute. Your breathing slows, deep and steady, as if someone had pressed a button to turn off your thoughts. Stifling a yawn, you close the book and place it on the nightstand with a soft thud, the action feeling distant and automatic. You slide down into the bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin, the fabric brushing against your face. Your eyes flutter shut, and the world around you fades, as you finally surrender to sleep’s gentle pull.

^^^

Sometime past midnight, you weren't sure how long, you began to stir. You were never a light sleeper, but the gentle press of warm lips on your forehead nudged you into consciousness. Your eyes fluttered open, vision still blurry with the remnants of sleep. You could make out a silhouette beside you, moving gently in the dim light.

Slightly rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, you tried to clear your vision. As the haze began to lift, you stretched your arms, using your arms to push yourself up into a sitting position. There, seated on the edge of the bed beside you, was Law. He had returned.

A smile tugged at your lips as you looked at him, his presence filling the room with a comforting warmth. "Sorry for waking you up," Law spoke softly, his voice tender and filled with affection.

^^^

LAW’S POV

Law returned in the middle of the night, his mind abuzz with strategies and plans for his next mission. The weight of weariness pressed heavily on his shoulders, prompting him to seek refuge in his cabin for a quick nap. As he approached the door, he noticed a faint glow emanating from beneath it, a familiar and comforting sight. With deliberate care, he opened the door, slipping inside and closing it just as quietly behind him.

The sight that greeted him made him gasp and gulp heavily. You lay sprawled across his bed, your right arm resting above your head while your left hand lay gently on your stomach. Your left leg was slightly bent, the other stretched out languidly. The shirt you wore, one of his, was haphazardly covering your body, exposing your laced undergarment, and almost revealing your breasts. The sight was both intimate and incredibly tempting.

Law removed his fur hat and placed it on his desk, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to steady his racing thoughts. His nose flared as he inhaled deeply, trying to quell the desire stirring within him. The sight of you, so vulnerable and alluring, made it a challenge to resist the temptation before him.

With a sigh, he took the blanket that had been pushed aside as you moved on the bed and carefully draped it over you. He sat beside you, his eyes lingering on your serene face, taking comfort in your presence. In the quiet of the night, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate moment of stillness.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, his fingers trembling slightly. As he gazed at you, he felt a profound sense of peace and gratitude. Despite the chaos and danger that awaited him outside, here, in this cabin, he found solace and strength in your love. With a tender smile, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, murmuring, "Sorry for waking you up."

^^^

"You're back," you whispered.

Law nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "I couldn't stay away," he admitted, his weariness momentarily forgotten in the comfort of your presence.

^^^

Your eyes linger on him as he slowly pulls his shirt over his head, revealing those muscles that flex and tease under the soft light. He moves with a deliberate sensuality, stripping off his pants until he's left in just his boxers. The temptation to wrap your arms around him, to feel the warmth of his skin against yours, is almost overwhelming. But instead, you hold back, your hand reaching up to cup his face tenderly.

He places his right hand over yours, leaning into your touch. His lips find the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, and he gently bites, sending a shiver down your spine. Something shifts in his eyes, a spark of intensity igniting within him. With a sudden, firm grasp, he grabs the nape of your neck and pulls you closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"You know I'm trying my best to hold back from fucking you right now. Have mercy on me," he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper filled with raw desire. He inhales deeply, his breath mingling with yours, before slowly pulling back to look into your eyes, dark and heavy with longing. "Sorry, I couldn't fulfill our desires for the meantime. I wanted to rest, hope you understand," he adds, his gaze softening with a mix of regret and exhaustion.

"Of course," you reply, though a hint of disappointment lingers in your voice. As you study his face, you can see the weariness etched into his features, the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his jaw. He has so much weighing on his mind, so many burdens he carries.

You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Rest now," you say softly, your hand still cradling his face. "We'll have our time." ^^^

You scoot to the side, making room for him on the narrow bed. Law switches off the lamp on the nightstand, plunging the cabin into darkness save for the faint glow from the moonlight filtering through the porthole. He stretches out on his stomach, his head sinking into the pillow, his back a broad expanse of muscle turned away from you.

A flicker of mischief dances in your mind, but his earlier words echo in your ears, reminding you of his resolve. His restraint, a testament to his discipline honed over years, only deepens your admiration for him. With a sigh, you lie on your back, staring blankly at the ceiling above, your thoughts swirling in the quiet darkness.

Minutes pass, each one stretching longer than the last, your sense of longing growing more intense. Unable to resist, you reach out tentatively, moving closer until your left cheek presses against the warmth of his back. Wrapping your right arm around him, you feel the rise and fall of his steady breathing.

Just as you think he might be asleep; he surprises you by reaching for your hand. His fingers trace your knuckles with a gentle caress before he grasps your hand firmly, his touch both reassuring and intimate. The gesture speaks volumes, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you share.

Moments later, you hear the soft, rhythmic sound of his snoring, a sign that sleep has finally claimed him. Holding onto him, you find a sense of peace in his presence, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear a comforting lullaby. Slowly, the warmth of his body and the rhythmic cadence of his breathing lull you into your own peaceful slumber, the longing replaced by a deep, abiding contentment.

PART TWO

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #law one piece #heart pirates #law x you #bepo one piece #law x reader #law x female reader #law x y/n #shachi one piece #penguin one piece #polar tang

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hp-hcs · 8 months ago

Text

• smut• and lead us nott into temptation — asshole! pureblood! dom bottom! theodore nott x male! muggleborn! catholic! sub top! reader

requested by 🦈 anon! (aka my silly goofy lil guy <3)

WARNING: if you don’t like sacrilegious shit or gay male reader inserts, KEEP SCROLLING

i’ve got enough religious trauma to last me many lifetimes, so writing this one was just like ✍️🥲📿

tws: ⚠️dub-con⚠️, 🔞smut mdni🔞, literally no plot, manipulation, coercion, amab reader, virgin reader, corruption kink, pure blasphemy ngl, inappropriate use of religious prayers, lot of shit talking about the catholic church, gratuitous use of em-dashes, gratuitous use of the pet-name “angel”

you and theo are dormmates or something? idfk man this is literally just 2.2k words of depravity

not edited cause tbh i’m hella embarrassed that i wrote this

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“…hallowed be thy na— Theo?”

“What are you doing?” your roommate asked as he stepped inside your shared dorm, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze focused on the rosary in your hand.

“Praying,” you mumble, cheeks flushing under his heavy stare.

“You’re religious?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You believe in all that Muggle deity bullshit?”

“Yes.” You stiffened, lips twisting in distaste at his choice of words.

You could physically see his pupils dilate at your affirmative answer.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath. “So you’re…what, celibate, or whatever it’s called?”

You startled at the sudden change of topic.

“Um…abstinent, yes,” you corrected, taking a step backwards as he moved closer.

“Shit,” he cursed again. “That’s fuckin’ hot.”

He kept moving forward, crowding you back against the wall. You squeaked when he rested his hand against the wall beside your head, blocking you in on one side. He gently, but firmly, gripped your jaw in his other hand. His gaze raked up and down your body.

You gulped. “Th-Theo, what’re you d—”

He cut you off with a harsh kiss.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was Theo biting your bottom lip hard enough to bleed, tightening his grip on your jaw to wrench it open, and shoving his tongue in your mouth.

You were frozen, the rosary slipping from your fingers and hitting the floor with a loud clatter. After an aggressively…passionate? possessive? minute, Theo pulled back.

“My sweet little angel,” he cooed, gently stroking the side of your face. “So pretty and pure.”

Your skin prickled under his touch, at the way his eyes darkened with hunger. The way his gentle caress belied the drop of blood running down your chin.

He looked like sin. The way his hair curled above his ears, his pretty pink lips dotted red with your blood…

He looked like the Devil himself.

“I want you to fuck me, Y/n,” Theo murmured unabashedly into your ear.

Your knees trembled. Your heart raced. Your eyes were so wide, it was near painful. “Wh-what?”

“Please, angel? I want you to fuck me,” Theo whispered against your lips, a sensual tone in his voice.

“Or,” he sighed over-dramatically, really playing it up, “if you want to remain a prude, you can tell me to stop right now and I will; no hard feelings.”

You trembled. What were you doing? Why were you even considering this?

Theo’s hand remained on your waist, and he ran his thumb across your bottommost rib in a steady pattern, back and forth, as he waited for your answer.

“L-Leviticus 18:22,” you spluttered, doing your damn best to ignore the way the sunlight streaming through your dorm window highlighted and accentuated Theo’s gorgeous bone structure. “Th-thou shalt not lie with m-mankind, as with womankind: it is a-abomination.”

“That’s not a no.”

“That’s not a yes!” you argued. “Besides, lust is a sin of its own!”

“No, this doesn’t count.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It’s an abomination, not sex. Says so right in your little book. So therefore…” his fingers wandered down to the waistband of your trousers, dipping teasingly underneath to ghost over your hip bone before retreating. “Therefore it can’t be lust.”

It was the most backwards logic you’d ever heard.

But it was hard to think about turning him away when the heel of his hand was suddenly pressing against the front of your trousers.

“I-it…it isn’t?” you choke out, a confusing new sensation sparking in your stomach. “A-are you sure?”

“Of course,” Theo said, so confidently that you couldn’t help but believe him.

“I-if you’re sure…” you trailed off, eyes widening as Theo dropped like a rock, his knees hitting the flagstone with a resounding crack that you wished you could record, just so you could listen to it over and over and over again.

His impatient fingers fumbled with the button of your trousers, yanking them and your boxers down to your mid-thigh in a single smooth motion.

You flushed bright red at the mere notion of being naked from the waist down in front of another person; let alone Theo, the boy who’d been your roommate for the last eight years.

He kept his gaze firmly locked with yours, those unnervingly dead eyes framed with sinfully long lashes, as he flattened his tongue against the base of your dick and licked a long, slow stroke up the length of it.

“Oh, fuck—” you cursed, your head falling backwards and hitting the wall behind you with a solid thunk.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.” He grinned, his thumb swiping over the head of your dick and collecting the dribble of precum that was steadily leaking from the tip before spreading it around.

You whined pathetically, your thighs shaking as a moan was wrenched from your lips. Theo grinned wickedly at how debauched you already looked.

Without a speck of hesitation, he closed his mouth around your dick, his clever tongue teasing the underside. He hollowed his cheeks around you and you gasped out a choked-off moan.

Theo’s hand snaked up and found your wrist, guiding your hand to the mess of curls on the top of his head. Your fingers tightened in his hair, gripping onto a handful of it for dear life just to keep yourself from passing out from the overwhelming pleasure. Honestly, the only thing keeping you from falling over was Theo’s tight grip on your hips.

“Shit shit shit shit—”

He pulled off of your dick with a sinful pop.

“Keep reciting,” Theo rasped, his voice already rough and breathless.

“Wh-what?”

“I interrupted your prayer when I walked in here. Keep reciting.”

You gulped, licking your lips nervously as you tried to remember where you’d left off before fully giving up and just starting the Our Father over. “O-Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Th-thy kingdom come, thy w-will be done, on Earth as it— hah~”

Your head fell back against the wall again as Theo sucked furiously on the tip of your dick, all of your thoughts going out the window.

Theodore, that bastard, pulled off again.

You whined at the loss. “No- d-don’t—”

“Ah ah ah,” Theo chided, patting your thigh. “You stop, I stop. Keep going.”

You hissed out a displeased grumble before returning to your prayer as he returned to his S-tier dick sucking. “O-on Earth as it is in H-Heaven. G-give us this d-day our— Theo— daily b-bread—”

His fingers slipped down from your hip to brush against the sensitive skin behind your balls.

Your hips jerked forward on instinct, and Theo moaned like a cheap whore around your cock as it was shoved down his throat, his nose suddenly buried in your pubes.

“And f-forgive us our tre-trespasses…” you panted, fingers tightening their grip on his hair as your eyes squeezed shut.

There was an odd sensation, like a coil tightening, behind your belly button. It was strange, although not unpleasant.

“…as we f-forgive those who— who trespass aga-against us.”

Theo pulled away again. You opened your mouth to curse him out—Heaven knows he deserved it, the damn tease—when he got to his feet and promptly shucked off his shirt and trousers, dropping his boxers without a hint of modesty or insecurity.

You stared, mouth agape, as Theo wandered over to his bed, seemingly in no hurry. He slowly splayed himself out on his bed for you, casting a wandless lubrication charm with a sly grin and an easy, relaxed posture that was belied by his achingly hard cock practically touching his stomach.

“Close your mouth, angel,” he purred, beckoning you closer with two fingers. “You might catch flies.”

You took a small step forward, entranced by the sight in front of you.

“Keep praying, angel,” Theo murmured, running a hand through his already-disheveled curls—which only served in making his just-fucked hairstyle even more pronounced.

“A-and lead us n-not into temptation,”—Theodore Nott was nothing if not temptation in its purest form—“but deliver us from evil.”

You took another step closer, then another, until you were by his bedside. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Theo echoed, reaching for you with one hand. His fingers knotted themselves in your shirt, yanking you down on top of him.

He grabbed the back of your neck and smashed his lips against yours. You wiggled, kicking your trousers and boxers off from where they were still stuck around your knees before pulling back to gasp for air.

Theo grabbed the front of your shirt again, yanking on it. “Off.”

You complied without a second thought, tugging your shirt off over your head in one fluid motion.

Theo groaned at the sight of your body as you tossed your shirt God-knows-where. He grabbed the back of your neck again and tugged you into another passionate kiss.

“One day, ‘m gonna ride you,” he mumbled against your lips, running a possessive hand over your stomach. “My fuckin’ gorgeous boy. But today, you’re gonna fuck me.”

He pulled you fully on top of him, your knees between his, your forearms flat against the mattress on either side of the boy underneath you.

“Y’know, I never told you to stop praying,” Theo murmured, reaching downwards. His fingers tightened around your cock, stroking it a few times before guiding it closer to his ass and pushing his body down against it.

You swallowed nervously as you took the not-so-subtle hint, taking a deep breath before slowly pressing the tip in and continuing your Rosary. “H-Hail Mary, f-full of Gr—ah!—ace—”

You had to pause then to bury your head in the crook of his neck, your breathing coming in shaky gasps. Your body zinged with pleasure, your toes curling.

“That’s it, baby,” Theo cooed, petting your hair gently. “Doing so good. Keep going. Makin’ me feel so good.”

“Th-the Lord is with thee. Blessed art th-thou amongst women—” you whispered breathlessly against his sweaty skin, pausing again for another second to compose yourself before you very slowly and hesitantly pressed in further.

Theo’s knees tightened around your hips as he dug his heels into the backs of your thighs, urging you closer. “Sh-shit— angel, I need you to go in all the way. C-can you do that for me, pretty boy?”

You nodded and took a deep breath, and slowly and carefully pushed yourself all the way in, bottoming out inside of him after an agonizingly long moment.

Theo gasped sharply as soon as you were fully seated inside of him. His fingers tightened their grip on your shoulders until his nails managed to break the skin. You leaned down to press your lips against his—much more gently than he had—and moaned into his mouth at the slight sting from his nails.

Theo sighed in pleasure against your lips and returned the kiss. “M-move, angel. Need you t-to move.”

You slowly pulled nearly all the way out, your eyes fixed on his face. You wanted to document every facial expression, every muscle twitch, everything that Theo did while underneath you.

Watching his lower lip tremble as a moan spilled out of him had to be your breaking point. Your hips snapped forward of their own accord, quickly filling him back up. “A-and blessed- is- the- fruit- fuck- of thy w-oh!-mb, Jesus.”

His head fell backwards with a loud cry, his nails raking up your back as he scrambled for anything to cling onto. “Yes! Fuck— harder!”

“H-Holy Mar— shit! M-Mary, Mother of G-God…”

You sped up, driving into him faster and harder with every frantic demand that left his lips. You let out a high whine as Theo leaned up to suck on the tender flesh under your jaw with a feral-like possessiveness. Red and purple marks had already begun to bloom along your neck and jaw.

The coil in your stomach tightened even further.

“Th-Theo, I don’t— wh-what’s—?” you stuttered, panicking at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Y-you about to cum, angel?” he panted. He stroked a gentle hand over your lower abdomen. “You feel s-something funny right here?”

You whimpered and nodded frantically. “P-please— I’m gonna—”

“No. Hold it, angel.”

“Wh-what?”

“You don’t get to finish until you finish your prayer, baby boy.”

You hissed in discomfort. “P-pray for us sinners—”

Your words were interrupted by a high-pitched moan from Theo as his back arched off the bed. He started chanting your name, over and over again, like a prayer of his own.

His fingers scrabbled for a hold on your shoulders as he tightened around you. “Shit shit shit— ‘m not g-gonna last— fuck! Cum for me, angel,” Theo pleaded, his nails digging further into your back and leaving long marks that quickly blossomed into a rich pink color.

“Nowandatthehourofourdeath!” you rushed the last line with a near-shriek as the coil in your abdomen exploded, your toes curling again and your vision going white. Your arms buckled and you collapsed on top of Theo, who was experiencing the exact same thing as you.

You both just laid there in a sweaty heap, limp and boneless from your respective mind-blowing orgasms.

“Amen,” Theo said softly, finishing your prayer. He casted a wandless cleaning spell on the both of you before gently wrapping his arms around you and stroking your scratched-up back as you both came down from your highs. You let out a pleased purr at the feeling of his soft touch gently brushing over your stinging scratches, a wordless spell from Theo methodically coating the marks with a numbing topical ointment.

You echoed the sentiment after a moment of catching your breath, content to just cuddle with him in this moment. You pressed a kiss to the side of Theo’s throat and whispered a singular word against his skin, “Amen.”

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #hp x male reader #x male reader #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott smut #theo nott x reader #male reader

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luceafarul-de-dimineata · 6 months ago

Note

Due to my obsession with the devils from abbadon (Phenix is underrated). I DEMAND (kindly ask) you to hand over all your headcannons about them.

Since you're asking so politely, I shall give it to you

Abaddon headcanon (Tw: Abaddon)

Since Abaddon is THE sex dangeon of all of Hell, and you can see public sex everywhere, I think that the people in Abaddon don't have the concept of consent. Everyone already wants to fuck and doing it in public with strangers is just the norm, so if any Abaddon nobles got a boner they'll just get undressed and fuck you right then and there

If we want to get really dark, we could even say that cries for "stop" and "no" are just taken as dirty talk. You can't tell me someone in Abaddon isn't into cnc.

Asmodeus likes seing his subjects fuck so he invites his nobles over and uses his powers to get them to rail eachother for his entertainment. Who needs porn when you can just make two of your people fuck for you?

Weirdly enough, Abaddon demons are actually very interested in romance. Their king was the only one that had a wife and kids, so they can do more than just fuck

Even someone like Phenix can be quite romantic when Asmodeus is asleep or something.

When Paradise Lost first became the ER of hell, it was filled with Abaddon demons because a) they're neighbouring countries b) they try very dangerous stuff for sexual pleasure and it usually fails

Abaddon was the first to lose healthcare priveledges and that's why Asmodeus and Lucifer don't talk with eachother.

Now they only have Marbas as the countries doctor

Marbas used to be just a normal demon before he was assigned to Abaddon. Since he was exposed to more of Asmodeus' charm, he started acting more violent and horny, so Lucifer had to tie him up

Asmodeus' charm is kind of like nuclear energy, where, the longer you're exposed to it the worse the symptoms get. And then you end up like Phenix.

The noble with the most one night stands to his name is Ronové. You can randomly ask a devil what their experience with Ronové was like and they'll have a story about it

Asmodeus used to take Ronové to meetings with him as an assistent, but he kept talking about how beautiful amputated feet are so Asmodeus gags him now.

Masturbating is a form of prayer towards Asmodeus.

Asmodeus is autistic and his special interest is sex. He's also a strong believer in learning by doing

Phenix was Asmodeus' caretaker when Asmo was little and that's why he's the most affected by his charms.

Asmodeus is the only demon in Abaddon that you can have a conversation with that doesn't involve sex. He'll still flirt tho

Abaddon demons can heal by having sex, which is how Dantalian got his kink

He got really badly wounded and was about to die before Phenix fucked him and his wounds closed off enough that he could walk himself to Paradise Lost

In that sense, Abaddon demons are healers but only to other Abaddon demons

Abaddon is the top honey moon destination in Hell.

The country they're closest to is Avisos because they have similar views on sex.

Asmodeus is the only demon king that can go to the human world at will without any complications. Even Satan gets shit for leaving for half an hour, but Asmodeus could be gone for days and nobody would complain.

He's closest with Belphegor but only by proxy. They're not friends, but they don't hate eachother so that's a plus in his book

None of the other kings really like him because when Asmodeus wants something, he would do anything to get it. And I trully mean anything. Nobody trusts this charming little back stabber.

Asmodeus has a statue of his former lover in the royal garden. If anyone tried to touch it he would brake all the bones in their body. He sometimes just stares at it and laments her death

He wouldn't even let the decendent of Solomon touch it. That's his wife and you can go find another.

He still has the makeshift wedding ring on his finger and he plays with it when he's bored. When Dantalian was little he stole it to try and get in danger with Asmodeus, but he almost shat his pants when he saw the absolutely terrifing glare Asmo had on.

When there's no battles to be had, Phenix goes to Asmodeus's chambers and humps his leg like a bitch in heat. Asmo sometimes picks him up on his lap and jerks him off while he works.

He'd be on a phone call like "Don't worry about the screams, my dog's in heat."

All electronics in Abaddon are waterproof... or more specificly, cum proof.

Ok wow, fuck this was longer than expected and I still have some. Abaddon is my second favorite country and we'll see if it because the first by Christmas.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb abaddon #whb asmodeus #whb phenix #whb ronové #whb dantalian #whb marbas

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conjuredsun · 1 year ago

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The Witch Father

In traditional witchcraft, we often come across mentions of the enigmatic Witch Father. His Folklore is scattered, and there is little consensus to who He is. The mythology of Witch Father folklore is spread across centuries, hidden in tales of the Devil and in the transcripts from witch trials. He is a multifaceted being who rules over life, death, initiations, knowledge, and the untamed wilderness lurking at the edges of society.

The Witch Father is an archetypal Divine Masculine Spirit that illuminates life and is a lord of death. Witch Father is a catchall title for the myriad spirits witches have historically contracted with and have since been omitted by the witch trial transcripts across Europe.

He is most commonly known as the Devil in today’s craft. As we know him, The Witch Father is an initiator and holds the keys to our disinhibition towards pleasure. He opens the way to occult knowledge and gives us the opportunity to explore (legal) pleasures without the need for guild or shame. Walking with the Witch Father allows us to dive into the hidden realms and learn the Occult Arts to change our lives. He also allows us to revel in primal human desires.

As the Initiator into Witchcraft, the Witch Father takes on the mantle of the Light Betwixt the Horns. He comes into our lives and offers us the choice to go down this path and walk with Him. He grants us an understanding of magick, nature, and pleasure. He empowers us to uncover our Truth and the Truth of the World. As the initiator, some see the Witch Father as Lucifer. He is also the Serpent who revealed to Eve that the fruit from the Tree of Life will not cause her to die but will grant the wisdom of the universe.

The Witch Father allows space for us to free ourselves from the inhibitions placed on us by general society, and especially the church. He encourages us to rebel, sing, dance, and uncover wisdom. He leads the Witch’s Sabbath, which grants us a place to revel in the freedoms offered there. By leading us to this sacred experience, He fills his role as an emanation of the untamed wilderness, the primal subconscious of our most human desires. He gives us the Church of Nature. Taking the liturgical prayers of the Church and the Book of Psalms, mixing that with more ancient pagan animism, we are given access to a hidden power through His teachings.

Now, while I talk as if the Witch Father is a God, he is not. He is an ancient and powerful spirit who has led witches over the centuries and demands reverence. He is not all-powerful and is not a creator. He works his charms through magic and shapes the world. He is not a distant, impersonal being. He is immediate to us and is a mentor for us.

Disinhibition

At the Witch’s Sabbat, our spirits fly away to commune with Our Devil, other witches and spirits in His retinue. It was a place to mix business and pleasure. At the Sabbat, witches would learn new spells, come together to work rituals, learn new forms of magick from the Witch Father, and of course partake in enjoyment.

The Sabbath is a place of Initiation for new witches and also a place for learning new aspects of the craft. Once the business concludes, the Sabbat becomes a celebration. We may forget the staunch rules of mundane society and revel in our animalistic and beastial joys. There is singing, dancing, food and drink. We can indulge in these desires and these delicacies. All of which is orchestrated and gifted to us by the Witch Father.

The Wild

There is a deep connection between the Witch Father and Nature. They are ‌synonymous with each other. He is an emanation of the land and its spirits. As Christianity became the dominant religion, and as society shifted further away from living in harmony with Nature, the figure of the folkloric Devil grew. He calls to us to return to the untamed lands and to forget the society that weighs us down. He offers liberation instead of our oppression.

The Witch Father, as Nature, holds a duality over life and death. He is life itself and the bringer of light. But he is also the Lord of Death and of shadows. As the year turns, we see both aspects and the cyclical nature of them. Death giving way to new life and of life giving way to death. He is destruction and creation. Death and resurrection.

Even His iconography and the existing descriptions that we have of the Devil show the immense connection He has to the Land. He is a shapeshifter comfortable in being a recognizable animal, a humanoid form, or even a hybrid. He reminds us of our baser instincts and that we are not above animals or the land just because we, as humans, have subjugated them for centuries.

He is the Horned one, the light betwixt the horns, Terra Pater, Primus Magus. And he has revealed himself to us in so many other forms throughout the centuries. It’s hard to pigeonhole the Witch Father as any one being, or to even say “this is what he looks like.” He’s shown us he is comfortable changing his shape on a whim. He takes on the mantles of mentor, guide, and is a safe space for us to let our guard down and find enjoyment outside of our mundane lives.

Old Scratch

Old Scratch is a more antiquated term for The Devil or Satan primarily found in the Southern United States and the South Midlands. This name has been memorialized in Faustian Folklore such as “The Devil and Tom Walker” and “The Devil and Daniel Webster” where our protagonist sells his soul to the devil for prosperity.

This reinforces the theme that our Witch Father, the Folkloric Devil, offers us a chance to change our luck and our lives. Now, in these stories, the protagonist is taken away and dragged into the fires of hell, but in the living practice of Traditional Witchcraft, it doesn’t happen that way. We see these stories as what happens when trying to break deals with the Otherworld. Contracts and Pacts made with Spirits should be kept up with. It’s imperative.

Black Shuck

In East Anglian folklore, Black Shuck is an omen of death. If you see him, it is said that you will die before the year is up, and if you meet his eye you’ll be dragged away.

The first mention of the Black Shuck is in “The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle” in 1127 where He is affiliated with a Wild Hunt that was in Petersborough from Lent through Easter. Later on, in the 1500s, he is said to have broken into a church and killed two paritioners while kneeling in prayer.

Here we see the Chthonic side of the Devil. He is a psychopomp taking souls to the Other Side. He is a shepherd of the dead, warns us of impending doom, and teaches us about life, death, and ways to travel between the Worlds.

#witchblr #witchcraft #witch #sigil #necromancy #witch father #traditional witchcraft #folk witchcraft

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luminemagica · 3 months ago

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Hii!! This'll be a masterlist of sorts with magical girl info here on tumblr!

(btw If your post is in this list and you don't want it here dm me and I'll take it down :3)

(also if you have an open original concept and would like me to include info on it here also dm me!!)

For Cardcaptors 🌟:

Spell to protect something precious @/popculture-hag-shit

Clow card hierarchy @/ironbloodaika

Clow card divination @/feuillemor

prayer for divination @/popculturealtar

For Puella Magi 🌟:

Puella Magi Basics @homulilythemagicalgirl

How to enter labyrinths @doppelmagi

The 100 meter rule @doppelmagi

Soul gems @homulilythemagicalgirl

Soul Gems & grief seeds @themagidiaries

Grief seeds @homulilythemagicalgirl

Kyubey @homulilythemagicalgirl

Contracts and wishes @themagidiaries

Coordination @/majokkid

The Law of Cycles & contracts @/hopemagi

Puella Magi/Madoka Kin crafts @/craftykinnies

For Winx Club Faeries 🌟:

Guide for winx magical faeries

For Sailor Senshi 🌟:

Transformation pen pcw glamour spell @/friendlyneighbourhoodmagicalgirl

Sailor moon pc spell masterpost @/fyeahpopculturewitchcraft

Original concepts 🌟:

Star kids (me!!)

Magical girls in general! 🌟:

Concept advice @dreamerarchives

Dream work & magical heroes @dreamerarchives

Magical things to do when bored @/mahouplanetofficial

Reminders @/jasper-pagan-witch

Magical advice for the booked and busy magical girls @dreamerarchives

Reminders @sweet-strawberry-rain

Mahou community etiquette @denpamahou

Pink swan term coining @/agentukelele

Irl Magical Girl Community History @denpamahou

Positivity @/kuhli-mahou

Reminders for younger mahous @/hopemagi

alterhuman mahou appreciation @denpamahou

Magical girl subliminal @denpamahou

Adult magical girl community @/hopemagi

Witchcraft stuff🌟:

Astral realm @homulilythemagicalgirl

Developing Clairsenses @/bitter-bats-cult-of-the-moon

Pop culture spirit work @/popculturealtar

Pop culture spirit worship/work @dreamerarchives

Communication ritual for Madoka Kaname @/popculturealtar

Law of cycles & Devil Homura pcp @/churchofmadohomu

Creating & enchanting Magical tools @/majokkid

Manifestation stuff 🌟:

Affirmation tips @melarune

#irl mahou shoujo #irl magical girl #mahoublr #starlit knowledge 💫#pop culture witchcraft

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 8 months ago

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Ten

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 3,6k

Warnings | 18+, smut noncon, yandere themes, triggering content, drunken sex, forced anal sex, rimjob, fingering, sadism, violence, lots of crying and screaming, teasing, humiliation, blood, hatred, angst, attempted murder, serious injuries, use of a knife, sea of blood, first hints of Stockholm Syndrome, be careful: this chapter is darker than the other chapters and from now on Dark Moon will be much more violent.

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys ❤️ Today's chapter was particularly difficult to write, it is very dark and from here on we get into the heart of Dark Moon, which I always remember is a highly yandere story, I recommend reading it to readers who are age +18 and who already have experience with the yandere genre, Dark Moon is not a story with a normal relationship, it is a yandere. For those who will read the chapter, let me know what you think of it and what you believe will happen in the future!

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon, @hecateslittlewitchling, @namjoonsbuspass, @darkuni63, @xicanacorpse, @jiminismine4ever

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Previous - Next

Perhaps it was the alcohol swirling in his body or perhaps his sadistic nature, but he didn't think twice about ripping off even that one too many garments, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut huddling her head between the blankets that smelled of Jimin, everything about that room smelled of him and she felt suffocated by his oppressive presence.

Jimin ran two fingers over the entrance hidden by the young woman's panties, reached out to her clitoris circling it through the fabric, but did not dwell on it for long, without uttering a breath he lowered Y/N's panties badly, finally putting on display what he was really aiming for.

He eagerly squeezed the girl's soft, perfect buttocks, his hands carefully palmed that velvety flesh, she could not understand what his intentions were, why was he talking one way but touching her another?

The boy lowered himself to kiss her back, inhaling her scent that reminded him of the scent of his bubble bath present in the bathroom, she had not confined herself to books, he thought amused, there was something sick about her, something she did not even admit to herself, even as she actively sought something that would make her closer to the man she so professed to detest.

"Jimin..." there, she had once again used his name, the man couldn't hold back any longer, spread her buttocks revealing the small, tight pink hole, and lowering his head the boy left a wet, warm streak of saliva in that never-violated spot, "What the hell-?!" exclaimed Y/N, stiffening in shock.

Jimin was... he was licking her right there?!

Between shame and disgust she tried to slip out of his hands, but the man squeezed her tightly and together with his weight prevented her from moving, continuing to circle around that ring of muscle with the tip of his tongue, occasionally entering a few millimeters.

Forced there and under those attentions, Y/N felt strange, with horror she realized that she was not just trembling with fear, she was feeling a strange warmth that was affecting her lower abdomen, the sinuous movements of the man's tongue continued to wet and stimulate the little hole, saliva slowly slipped from her buttocks to the throbbing, soaked cleft of her pussy.

Pleasure and humiliation mingled causing her emotions so strong as to be unbearable, she untangled herself once again from his grasp and this time managed to free herself, crawled away and by a hair's breadth the man came back to grasp her ankle again, bringing her back under him.

"You're a goddamn animal!" exclaimed Y/N between her teeth, Jimin sneered pushing his pelvis against her, who distinctly felt the rigid presence between his legs.

"Now I recognize my little whore" he murmured in her ear making her shudder, "From the way you're acting I bet no one has ever touched this cute little ass" he slapped a buttock as if to punctuate his words and the woman winced, "Somehow I'll still have a virgin part of you" he growled forcefully and without any regard pushing two fingers into that tight and rigid hole, a scream dictated by pain and shock left the girl's now pale lips.

"No, no, no! Stop, I don't want to!" she was in a panic, Jimin's fingers made no hint of leaving her, the stretch was uncomfortable and burning like hell, the man was already anticipating that moment, he wanted her to scream in pain and sorrow, he wanted her to regret that stupid attitude she had held with him all along.

As he penetrated that tight little cave, he finished lowering his boxers with his other hand, freeing his hard, aroused cock.

He slid down to the young woman's slit without penetrating her, merely gathering over the entire length what little liquid arousal Y/N had produced against her own will. The girl felt the thick presence behind her and feared that it would end like last time, too bad Jimin had something much worse in mind.

Without saying a word he released those tight muscles from his fingers, Y/N almost collapsed from the pain, but Jimin grasped her hips tightly sinking his fingers into her flesh, the girl buried her head between the pillows already imagining the painful twinge that would rip through her core, but she was not prepared for the excruciating pain Jimin's thrusting caused her when he forcefully entered her ass, a sharp, breathless cry left her throat in despair, she wriggled on the bed like a trapped animal, but Jimin easily pinned her down by pounding inside her without any mercy, his hoarse breaths increased in volume as he sank repeatedly into that hole that clenched hard and in pain around his cock, he fell back on the young girl's small body with all his weight, forcing her to spread her stiff, trembling thighs wide.

"It hurts, please stop! It hurts so much, I can't take it!" she cried for air, she had thought Jimin's fingers were enough to feel pain, she had not expected a situation like that, his thick, hard cock was practically opening her in two, she frantically shook her head against the pillow with each stroke of the man's hips, who smiled addicted to that pleasure.

"How can I stop when-uhm..." he paused for a moment trying to contain himself and not explode inside her right away, "When you hold me so tight?" he finished in a voice pregnant with lust, penetrating her completely, who arched her back with a choked scream at that umpteenth assault.

"Now tell me, do you prefer it when I fuck your pussy or your ass? " he asked, increasing the speed of his strokes, aware of the harm he was doing to her not only physically, he wanted to humiliate her to such an extent that no light of defiance remained in her, his balls began to slam violently against her empty, dripping slit, the walls tightened around nothing, and another wave of tears slid down her face, realizing the strange combination of pain and pleasure that was being created in her.

Jimin moved his body slightly from hers, just the slightest bit that helped him to see himself sinking into her once more, the tiny ring of muscle had finally adjusted to his size despite the force with which he still enveloped his cock, he spit a trickle of saliva between them increasing the lubrication of the intercourse and began to give deeper and slower thrusts.

"You didn't answer me," he chuckled, penetrating the entrance to her intimacy with his middle finger, finding it incredibly moist.

He groaned breathlessly as he imagined himself in there, squeezed by that infinite, delicate softness, cradled by the elastic grip of her trembling walls.

"Fuck, can you hear yourself? If you hadn't behaved so badly this is where I would have come in, and we would have both enjoyed it," he growled in her ear, "But that's okay too, isn't it? You're soaked all the same, maybe you really are perfect for the Dark Moon" he taunted her, ramming into her countless times, feeling his balls swell and his cock shake, Jimin's small, intense moans of pleasure slid over the girl's now helpless body, which catatonicly welcomed the man's semen on top of her, he stood there still between her buttocks, pouring the white, viscous cum inside her asshole, before climbing out of her and gazing with satisfaction at that destroyed little hole soaked with his essence, Jimin slid away wearily on the bed, gazed breathlessly at the ceiling, a glance between his legs and noticed on his still half-erect cock drops of blood.

He grinned, satisfied with his work.

"Now you are no longer a virgin."

Y/N turned her head away, unable to move, feeling pain everywhere, even inside her soul.

Jimin had ruined her forever.

"I hate you" was the only thing she managed to say between dry, trailing lips, lost in a spiral of thoughts that only she knew.

Jimin stared at the walls of his bedroom with a sigh.

"You can hate me all you want, it doesn't change what you are and where you are," he muttered, beginning to close his eyes to fall asleep.

You are my whore, mine to have and mine to torture.

He had not said it, but that was what he meant.

The woman felt the man's breathing become lighter after about twenty minutes, twenty minutes of interminable silence.

Her gaze was no longer lost in the void, but steady on the boy's closet, there where she had previously discovered one of his little secrets.

She tried to calm down, not to do rash things, but he had no respect for her, had used and raped her, going so far as to force her into anal intercourse for which she had not been properly prepared. He had used her like a rubber doll, she thought with disgust written all over her face.

She lifted herself up slowly, preventing her complaints from escaping her lips, although she felt destroyed, her legs staggered on her own weight, and lowering her gaze she saw the blood etched between the sheets.

Panic gripped her chest, that same sordid spectacle she had experienced years before, when she was just a naive little girl who did not understand the malice of the world. The girl's tears became constant, but she still maintained silence. No, she could not relive such a thing and do nothing about it, not this time.

She angrily wiped away her tears and with another glance at the closet opened the doors slowly, rummaging through the bottom and finding what she was looking for, she forced her fingers on a small raised dowel and slid the wooden wall to her right, which revealed the presence of a dark duffel bag.

With unsteady hands she unzipped the thick zipper, revealing its forbidden contents.

She tightened her lips, casting a glance at the sleeping figure of the boy, the alcohol had finally taken its toll along with the sex, that monster would no longer be a threat to her.

That morning Jimin woke up with his mind strangely silent, his demons were not there, he stretched out casting a glance to his side and found the place previously occupied by Y/N, empty.

She was gone.

A gnawing in his stomach caged him, making him incuporated. Why the hell should he have cared?

He couldn't remember exactly what he had done that night, but he remembered perfectly well that he had enjoyed it, that was the important thing, wasn't it?

He got up slipping on the boxers left on the floor and headed to the bathroom to clean himself up.

He washed himself by eliminating the smell of sex from his skin, he looked at the bubble bath without a hint of emotion on his face, just remembering the smell of the girl, indeed it was one of the few things he remembered from the previous night, but his mind was still fixed on her, who would not decide to give in for good, he had come back pissed off like a hyena that night; Because she would not give in to him, because Hoseok had made those insinuations, because now everyone believed that he depended on her.

He wasn't. He was still Park Jimin, the independent, strong man. She, on the other hand, was just his tasty and tender plaything.

When he finished his shower he emerged from the bathroom with a towel tied to his hips, his athletic, slender figure a joy to behold, his dark soul sighing in pleasure at the screams of his victims.

He returned to the room to dress and had only time to put on clean boxers and a pair of shorts before he heard the thud of an object falling and shattering on the floor.

He frowned, immediately heading toward the source of that sound, "Y/N?"

He went to the living room looking around, on the floor were the broken and scattered pieces of a vase, but no trace of the girl.

"Y/N? Y/N!" he was getting pissed off, "We don't have a cat, I also doubt it was the wind, so I suggest you-!" an excruciating twinge blocked the breath in his throat.

His gaze dropped to the silver blade of the knife that had penetrated his side, the handle of that knife was clasped in the small hands of the woman who only hours before was under him in his bed.

Now there was shock and surprise on his face, he watched the girl wordlessly before his eyes narrowed in pain.

Y/N, whose face was transfigured with anger, watched the boy take deep breaths, as if he was used to those kinds of blows, and that pissed her off more.

She had waited all night for that moment, she didn't want to hit him while he was unconscious, she wanted him to be lucid and awake so she could hear him scream, but he wasn't screaming, he didn't look scared, and that made her angrier. She wanted Jimin, for once, to show that he was human and not just a crazed kidnapper and heartless killer.

"Why don't you scream, why?! Fuck!" she shouted before pulling out the blade with a revolting sound, then sticking it again in a spot not far from the previous one, Jimin jerked it away from himself, holding tightly to a shelf to prevent himself from collapsing to the ground, gritting his teeth to try not to scream, he pressed his hand on the first wound, not daring to pull the knife out of the second one. Had he done so, he would only have caused more damage.

He squatted slowly on the floor, pale and unable to think of a solution; there was already sweat on his upper lip to testify to what was going on inside him.

He tried to reason lucidly without losing sight of Y/N, who looked like a lion locked in a cage, paced around the living room holding her head in her slimy bloodstained hands, crying and shaking to herself, he forced himself to keep calm because in that condition he would only hurt them both.

"Y/N, where did you get this knife?" he hissed between his teeth breathing hard, she didn't answer but there was really no need for her to, the man had recognized him, it was part of the set he used during the missions, "Never mind, now be a good girl and hand me the phone" he was shaking, his body couldn't handle that condition yet and he seriously needed help, he had to call Seokjin and get help sent, immediately.

But Y/N stared at him fearfully, if she called his teammates they would surely kill her, Hoseok's threat was still alive in her mind and she began to shake her head.

"The phone is in my room, Y/N...fuck, go get the phone!" he blurted out moaning breathlessly, in response the girl began to run to the front door.

But no, she couldn't know the security code, right?

Jimin's brain threw a warning bell when he heard the typical sound that signaled the apartment was open.

"Shit!" he threw all his good intentions to the wind, began to run after her heedless of the suffering he was subjecting his body to, found himself removing the knife from the wound, shrugging off the consequences, it was incredibly painful and slow to do so, but when he saw her go through the emergency exit he chased after her jumping up several steps at a time.

Y/N's vision was flooded with tears, she did not understand why Jimin had not reacted as she expected he would, he had not turned around screaming in pain, he had not railed at her, and that made her feel bad, made her feel like the monster of the situation.

She had stabbed a man in the back, no matter who he was, she had done it.

And now she was going to die, Jimin would never let her go unpunished, much less his friends, she was screwed in every sense of the word now.

She grabbed the doorknob of the exit, preparing to scream and call for help, but she never got as far as throwing it open.

Jimin was quicker, grabbed her by the hips lifting her off the floor, she screamed in shock as she was dragged away, back into the apartment.

The boy closed the door with a loud roar, but he did not let her go, he slumped to the floor with her still pressed against his body, Jimin's hot, labored breathing tickled her neck, he did not seem to be intent on punishing her, then she felt something wet her clothes, something that horrified her.

Jimin's blood was flowing copiously from his wounds, and despite the lack of a shirt she could not tell where it came from, the blood was so thick and plentiful that it covered the deep cuts.

"Y/N..." he said again, she clearly sensed the torment in his voice and if possible felt even worse, "I need your cooperation," he said bitterly.

The girl silently nodded after a few moments, Jimin closed his eyes, his complexion was increasingly ashen.

"My phone is on the bedside table, bring it to me," he let her go and she got up in pain, between running and the wild sexual intercourse she had a few hours earlier, she was not in a very good state, but she tried to be quick in retrieving the object in question. She could have called the police, asked for help and reported Jimin, but she did not think about those possibilities at all, what was wrong with her?

She felt like a horrible person, how had she become this way?

When she returned to Jimin she found him trying to hold his deep gashes to stem the flowing blood, his movements were getting slower and slower, but he reached for the phone, it took seconds too long to unlock the phone and find Jin's number, but when he did he was relieved.

"Jin," he called, licking his dry, purplish lips, "I have a problem," he coughed.

In the meantime, the woman hurriedly looked around, saw some tea towels in the kitchen and didn't think twice about picking them up, ran to the man who was continuing to talk to his boss and with trembling fingers pressed on the wounds firmly, causing Jimin to spasm, who immediately clenched his teeth. There was so much vermilion liquid that her head spun, she must have been crazy for doing such a thing, she did not kill people.

"... I lost a lot of it, yes... No, she is here with me," he was saying, and that made her blanch. It was over.

Her chest began to lower and rise more and more slowly, Y/N was witnessing the boy's condition and could do nothing, for either of them.

Fuck, she didn't know if Jimin would protect her, he would probably be the one to give the order to slaughter her, assuming he didn't keep the honor for himself, but dead Jimin was pretty much sure she would follow him immediately.

When the boy put down, he took to staring at her without saying a word, he was quiet, he wasn't ranting at her, he just seemed...surrendered.

"Why did you do that?" he asked weakly, she squared him with glazed eyes, "Why did you stab me?"

"You hurt me," she said with a knot in her throat, "Before, it was different... you were like him," she sobbed, leaving Jimin strangled and confused .

What had he done and who was "him"?

Jimin tried to remember his actions, he had come home drunk, this was clear to both of them, and he was angry, very angry.

Suddenly he remembered everything, frowned.

He had... he had....

Why did he feel so bad at the thought of what he had done? After all, this was not the first time, he had done it before, he was interested in feeling pleasure, and he had even punished her, she deserved it! But looking at those tear-filled eyes, it wasn't just the wounds that cut off his breath. Perhaps death was fucking with his brain.

"Y/N..." he seemed to want to tell her something important, perhaps it was about his last breath, but-

"Jimin! Jimin!" tense and nervous voices interrupted that moment full of unexpressed feelings, Y/N turned toward the men dressed in black who with weapons in hand began to check the whole apartment, some she recognized, she had already seen them in the company of the boy.

Other men ran to attend to him, beginning to check his vitals and oxygen, strong, angry hands pulled her away from the man and she found herself screaming in fear.

"It was you, right! Fucking-"

"Hoseok, let her go immediately!" exclaimed Jimin as he pushed one of the doctors aside, his pale, tired face glowering at the man behind the girl's back, "Do you hear me?" he huffed furiously, Hoseok tightened his grip on her, hurting her.

"What do you want me to do then? We can't leave her so fucking unpunished!"

"Lock her in her room," ordered Jimin with a cold stare, Y/N whitened, "She is not to come out of there, just as no one is to enter her room until I return, understood?"

The grip on her shoulders vanished, but another made her get up in a rush, the woman saw Jimin being carried away by the medics, while someone else slammed her violently inside her room, she fell ruefully to the floor and held her arm in pain.

She cast a glance at the culprit and recognized him as Taehyung. He seemed beside himself.

"If I don't kill you now it's only because Jimin doesn't want to, but don't expect mercy from us," he spat, distraught at the image of his friend reduced to that condition.

He slammed the door behind him and the lock was heard to close.

It was really over.

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collapsedglasshouses · 1 year ago

Text

FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

To support my fellow fanfic creators, I wanted to make a list of works I absolutely love. You are all so good at what you are doing, thank you for your services!

Keep in mind some links might not work anymore due to fanfic removal or blogs not existing anymore but I wanted to keep them in the list anyway to keep the memories!

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

BAD OMENS:

SWEEP ME OF MY FEET by @badnoahmens

A HUNDRED SILENT WAYS & THE DEVIL'S PRAYER BOOK by @signs-of-ill-portent

YOUR HAND IN MINE by @starsomens

SAFETY NET by @measuredingold

I NEED A FUCKING MIRACLE by @t0ken0mens

LITTLE ONE by @cowpokeomens

PULLED FROM THE GREY by @crimson-calligraphyx

CLUTCH by @kingdomof-omens

LIMONCELLO by @sinkingteethinwhitenoise

SCAR by @ladyveronikawrites

JUST PRETEND by @thefallennightmare & @thescarlettvvitch

SCREAM by @foliosriot

SWEETENED BREATH, TONGUE SO MEAN by @rottingfern

CALL ME WHEN YOU GET THE CHANCE by @deathblacksmoke

FIKA by @thefallennightmare

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

MOTIONLESS IN WHITE:

SPACE BETWEEN US by @tearfallpixie

SURPRISE by @kingdxmxfcxrds

SHADOWS OF RED by @nerdraging4point0

EVERY ROSE HAS ITS THORNS by @cookiesupplier

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

PLEASE DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND READ THESE AND ALL THE OTHER WORKS THOSE PEOPLE PUT OUT THERE. I PROMISE, YOU WON'T BE DISAPPOINTED!

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

LAST UPDATED FEB 2024

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #motionless in white fanfiction #motionless in white fanfic #motionless in white band #noah sebastian x reader #nicholas ruffilo x reader #nick folio x reader #jolly karlsson x reader #vinny mauro x reader #ricky olson x reader #chris motionless x reader

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mannequinreligi0n · 5 months ago

Text

Sins

priest!Vergil listens to your confession

pairing: priest!Vergil x nun!reader (mostly gn pronouns)

wc: 1380

warnings: mentions of religion

author’s note: priest vergil save me…..save me priest vergil…..might write a second part that’s actually spicy to this if there’s a demand for it. also i’m too lazy to proofread so you get what you get !

⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️

The seven o’clock mass had ended well over an hour ago, yet stray sinners still lined up to have their confessions heard. As the line dwindled, you wandered methodically around the church to dim the various lights and lanterns perched on pillars, leaving only the votive candles left to illuminate the grand hall. Every Sunday evening, your branch held an evening mass that was near identical to the morning service for those who couldn’t attend earlier in the day. Your fellow brothers and sisters of the church often rotated duties and you were fortunate enough to be left with attending the evening service, with hopes you could catch Father Vergil once confession had concluded.

There were two other nuns pacing about, helping escort leaving patrons out and collecting prayer books from pews, but they paid little mind to you. It was another twenty minutes before the final church-goer exited the confessional, signing himself with the cross as a nun came over to take his hand in prayer as they walked to the front door. The other nun followed loosely behind, closing stray doors, leaving only you in the echo chamber of the lord. You continue your duties of straightening the prayer candles when a loud creak of wood perks your ears. A series of expensive footsteps followed, a decibel louder with each step.

“Sister, you’re still here? The sun will set within the hour.”

You turn to acknowledge the voice: it’s Father Vergil, but you already knew that. You had practically studied the rhythm in his walk, the cadence of his voice, the soft aroma of myrrh and lavender that clouded him.

“Apologies, Father. I wished to do my work to the best degree, no matter the position of the sun. It is what our lord in heaven would wish.”

You bowed your head in atonement, not wanting to disrespect him in the slightest. It is only when you heard a hum of amusement from the priest that your head raised, greeted with stormy eyes and a smile of grace.

“God would forgive you for turning in early, sister,” Father Vergil mused, chuckling lightly. “Come, let me walk you out.”

You look down to see Father Vergil’s arm extended to you, an offering from above. If god knew of your sins, why was he indulging you with such a delight? Perhaps this was a test of faith. With hesitation, you take his arm, immediately reveling in the warmth of it. Shaking your head, you try to rid yourself of sinful thoughts, only to garner more attention from the priest. He stops you both from walking any further, you two standing in between the pews. Father Vergil turns to directly face you, clasping his hands over yours with concern and sincerity.

“You seem troubled, my child. Is there something you wish to share?”

Your eyeballs almost bulge out of your head from the accusation and touch of his hands. God has spoken to him of your impurities! Our benevolent lord has enlightened your dear priest with the knowledge of your thoughts. You immediately collapse before him to your knees, still grasping at his hands for a semblance of rapture.

“Oh, Father! I am not worthy to stand in the home of God beside you! I have betrayed my teachings, my very essence by entertaining these plaguing voices from the devil, himself!” you blubbered out, tears of shame cascading down your face.

Your hands shake as you grip his hands, fearing that he’ll turn his merciful eyes from you. The shake of your body is so persistent that your veil falls from your head, exposing your hair to the dimming light shining through the stained windows. Father Vergil stares at you with utter confusion, unsure where this fit arose from. His eyes flicker between your white knuckles and desperate eyes, not sure what “thoughts” you could be alluding to.

“Dear child, what has troubled you so?” Father Vergil questions softly, slowly bending down to speak more directly. “You are safe, and with God as my witness, I will not pass judgment on your sins. Please, share your burden with me.”

With tear-soaked cheeks, you swallow hard and bring your attention back up to him. “I wish to confess, Father,” you say meekly, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. A terrible, crude sin.”

Father Vergil lowers himself to his knees to sit across from you, still holding your hands. He nods for you to continue.

“It has been weeks- no, months, that my mind has wandered a dark path. I pray to God every night to take these…these obscene a-and lewd thoughts from me, but I fear I have strayed too far from Him, as He remains silent to me,” you exclaim to him.

Intrigued, Vergil raises an eyebrow. “What thoughts exactly?” his voice careful.

“I….I am not sure if I have the heart to voice them, Father,” you say, a frown plastered on your face.

“I understand this is difficult, Sister, but to receive penance and be absolved, you must confess to God,” Father Vergil sighs, squeezing your hands, “Has no one condemned you?… Neither do I condemn you.”

“John 8:11,” you say promptly, recognizing the verse.

Father Vergil nods and smiles gently, nodding once more. “Confess, and you will be rid of such sin.”

You look down at your joined hands and breathe deep, saying a silent prayer to God before speaking.

“Father…..I have been riddled with…disgraceful thoughts of you. I hear you speak sweet nothings to me in the lonesome night; I feel your skin on mine in times of need. I fear that my devotion to God has transformed into the devotion of you.”

Vergil’s smile falls as you speak, a cold, unreadable expression glossing over. He untangles his hands from yours and grasps at the rosary draped over his chest.

“Sister,” he starts, eyeing you warily, “such thoughts have challenged even the strongest of God’s creatures. But to worship someone other than our lord…it is sacrilege.”

There’s a long pause as Father Vergil closes his eyes, deep in thought. You watch his nose scrunch in the dim candlelight, wrinkles forming on his marble-carved face.

“You must try to rid your pure mind of such fallacies, in order to receive penance. Let us pray,” Vergil orders, making the sign of the cross. You follow suit, ‘in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,’ and clasp your hands together to your chest, bowing your head to them. You listen intently as Father Vergil recites a prayer asking for your forgiveness, soaking in every word. Even now, you can’t help but feel a warmth in your body at the hushed, intimate tone of his voice. Pushing the desires down, you return your focus in time to end the prayer, echoing Vergil’s ‘amen’.

You open your eyes to see him standing, offering a hand to help you up. You take it and grab your fallen veil off the tile. Fixing it back in place, Vergil takes a few steps back from you and seems to be mumbling a small prayer to himself, twisting the cross on his rosary in his delicate fingers. You brush off the dust and wrinkles from your garb and clear your throat.

“Shall I continue my duties for the ni-“

“No,” Vergil promptly interrupts, “no, I think I can finish closing up myself. It would be best if you found your way home.”

There’s a pang in your chest, an arrow to your heart, at the stark dismissal. You wanted to say more to him, to apologize profusely, but you knew it would only make things worse. You bowed your head in obedience.

“Yes, Father.”

You crossed yourself one last time before turning on your heels to leave, the clicking of your shoes reverberating off the church walls. Father Vergil watched you as you scurried out, tail between your legs. Everything happened so quickly that he didn’t get a chance to voice that he, too, was struggling with his faith in your presence, and instead, projected his shame onto you. Vergil exhaled the breath he’d been holding and walked into the pew of the first row, kneeling down and clasping his sweating hands together.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

#vergil sparda #vergil devil may cry #vergil sparda x reader #vergil x reader #devil may cry #dmc #dmc vergil #writing #fanfic #priest kink

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