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blackshadowswriter · 2 years ago

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Kneel At The Altar┃Matt Murdock

Summary: The one in which the Devil fucks you at the altar.

Warnings: blasphemy? (because I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to fuck in church), reader (me) having very unholy thoughts about Matt in church and Matt acting on those unholy thoughts, little bit of exhibitionism, smut: dom!Matt, kinda rough p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, edging, praying while Matt eats you out AND fingers you (???), choking kink, praise kink, spanking, some degradation, marking, multiple orgasms, some overstimulation, dirty talk (not particularly in that order)

God, if you're reading this, stop here, it isn't for you bby 😘

Words: 7,691

AN: Would you believe me if I said that this fic idea formed in my head WHILE I was in church? I'm not even kidding, I got dragged to church, and I literally thought up this fic while sitting in church, half-listening to a sermon. This fic has been sitting in my drafts for a while now, and I guess the wait was worth it because I bring you 7k words of pure sin. My content warnings have never been this long before, and that's probably not a good sign (or it's a very, very good sign)

Tagging my wonderful @farfromstrange because you also inspired me to finish this, and our horny enthusiasm for this fic kept me going, ily sm girl 🖤

As you knelt in front of the altar on your hands on knees with tears in your eyes and the Devil himself between your legs, you wondered how you had gotten yourself into this predicament.

It had started out so innocent: dear Matthew asking you to go to mass with him, swaying you with his plea of "I don't want to go alone, sweetheart, please" and that drowned puppy look in his eyes. For someone who couldn't see out of them, Matt could express a great deal of emotion in his eyes.

You agreed to accompany him to Sunday morning mass and returned the victorious grin that had spread across his face with a fond one of your own. You weren't usually one for religious settings like this, but it was worth it to see Matt in that black suit with the white dress shirt—one of your favorite outfits on Matt.

Half of the sermon fell on your deaf ears as most of your attention was on Matt, studying his gorgeous side profile and that stubbled jawline that you loved kissing when he fucked you. God, it felt even better between your legs. The thought of that sent heat flaring across your body as you squeezed your thighs together.

Besides you, Matt cleared his throat quietly, nudging you in your side, undoubtedly guessing where your thoughts had gone. A faint blush rose to your cheeks when you saw that Matt's jaw was clenched tightly, a sign you had come to know meant that he was trying to control himself. The sight of that only spurred on further thoughts of Matt losing control and fucking you right there.

Matt let out a quiet but ragged breath, and you knew he could smell the arousal between your thighs. His grip on his cane was so tense that his knuckles had turned white, his scars visible against his trembling fist. Your mouth went dry as you remembered those knuckles buried inside of you as you moaned for him just a few nights ago. Thighs clenching even tighter together, you bit back a grin at Matt's low hiss of your name.

Subtly, Matt adjusted his pants next to you, and the discomfort on his face made you stifle a laugh. The quiet growl Matt rumbled in warning did nothing to dissuade you. You could feel the heat of Matt's body pressed against yours and bit your lip, recalling how it felt against your bare skin.

Your fingers started to creep towards Matt's thigh, lightly skimming up and down the side of those muscular thighs that always caged you in when he knelt on top of you in bed. Faster than you could blink, Matt's hand flew towards you and caught your wrist in his tight grip.

"Not here, for God's sake," he hissed in your ear.

"Funny you'd phrase it like that," you murmured in amusement.

Matt turned to glare at you behind his opaque red glasses, but the way he had to fold his hands across his lap to maintain some semblance of his Good Catholic Boy image in church (which you had come to realize was a total façade) told you he wanted it as much as you did.

You should probably listen to him and stop before anything happened. What was the punishment for getting handsy in God's house again? You had a feeling you didn't want to know.

But there was the slight thrill of excitement shooting through you at the risk of doing this in pubic. A sly grin slid across your lips as you tilted your head towards Matt's ear, letting your hair fall forward in a way that would seem to onlookers as though you were merely whispering something to him. Instead, you nipped at his neck right below his ear where you knew he was sensitive. Matt's entire form, every inch of thick muscle and power stiffened at the contact, and you heard him give the smallest, tinniest groan that no one other than you would be able to hear.

Matt growled your name in warning, but there was no denying the lust burning in his dark eyes. His blank gaze had landed somewhere around your lips, and you wondered if he really was going to give into desire and kiss your right there.

But then everyone started to rise around them to sing the closing songs, and the sudden movement snapped both of you out of whatever horny haze you had been in. You stood like everyone else, shoulders pressed together, forced to ignore the blatant lust coiling in both of you.

For now.

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"I'm going out," Matt whispered to you sometime late at night as you laid curled in bed with a book in hand while the shadow of the Devil stood behind you.

At his words, you shut your book and rolled over to face him, eyes roving over the skin-tight black suit through which you could practically see every single ab. His black mask was held in one hand while the other came up to cradle your face gently. As much was you enjoyed Matt in his black lawyer suit, you decided that you enjoyed Matt even more in his black Devil suit when you could run your fingers across his broad chest and feel the almost burning heat of his skin underneath.

You tilted your head up to study Matt's face. Whenever his mask was on, cloaking so much of his face in black, he felt like a phantom shadow that could disappear if you closed your eyes for a second too long. There was something sharp and fiery and dangerous about him.

You didn't mind of course. In actuality, you enjoyed it—enjoyed the danger of dancing with the Devil.

"Okay," you said, sitting up to press a kiss to his soft lips. "Stay safe."

"I will," he murmured, brushing his calloused fingers across your temple. "Stay in the apartment. Wait for me when I get back."

You knew that voice—that low, possessive tone that dripped with promise for what was to come. A knowing smirk flitted across your lips as you hooked your legs around his waist to pull him nearer. "Yeah?" you challenged. "And what are you going to do when you get back?"

Matt chuckled softly, and even though the mask was off, that sound right there was purely the Devil speaking. "Oh sweetheart," he purred. "That's only for me to know, isn't it?"

That low, raspy voice he used rekindled that fiery want that had burned so dangerously in you hours earlier. By the time Sunday morning mass had been over, Foggy and Karen had called you both over for lunch in the office. The rest of the day had went by as normal with neither of you acknowledging what had transpired in the church outside of his promising smirks and your light, teasing touches ghosting across his body.

Now, however, with the Devil ready to be unleashed, there was nothing stopping that eager, burning desire rearing its head in both of you.

Nothing except Matt's duty to the city.

Fucking morals. You could just stay with me in bed, you thought about telling him. You might even be able to cajole him into staying if you could rile him up enough.

But no. You understood Matt's commitment to Hell's Kitchen even if you weren't too fond of the fact he got beat up every night. Still, it would be cruel to ask him to stop what he did just for you, just so he could hear the cries of those who needed him going unanswered in the merciless shadow of the night.

You weren't above asking for a little taste of his promise, however. "Tell me," you begged softly. "Tell me what you want to do to me."

That sharp grin was still on his face. "When I come back," Matt whispered in your ear, "I am going to fuck you into this mattress so hard that you won't be able to keep quiet." His fingers danced down the nape of your neck lightly, and you shivered. "And you're going to be screaming my name so loud, so everyone can hear who you belong to."

"Oh my God," you whimpered, eyes rolling back at the promise. That heat coiling in your stomach lashed out across your body, spreading through you like a wildfire. It pooled between your thighs, making you clench them tightly together with a soft moan. "Matthew."

The devilish smile that spread across his lips was absolutely sinful, a promise of the night to come. "But," he rumbled in your ear, his hand reaching down to grasp your wrist as he had in church. "You are not to touch yourself until I come back. Do you understand?"

You whimpered again.

"I said," Matt growled, "do you understand me?"

"Yes," you whined. "But God, Matt, please...I can't wait that long, Matt, please—"

"You will," he said sharply, "or you'll be punished." He released his harsh hold on your wrist and brought his hand up to trail lightly across your cheek, his tenderness a stark contrast to his rough dominance a few seconds ago. "You can do that for me, can't you, sweetheart? Can't you be a good girl for me? Can't you be a good girl and wait for me to get back to fuck you?"

Fuck, not the praise.

Your head fell backwards with a small shuddering moan, eyes falling shut as your thighs squeezed tightly together, a desperate motion to ease the ache in your core. "Matt," you whimpered. "Please."

His low laugh breezed across your cheek, and Matt's hand disappeared from your cheek. "Be good," came his stern order, and then the radiant heat from Matt's body vanished, leaving you panting and desperate.

By the time your eyes had snapped open, the Devil was gone, melting back into the shadows into the night.

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You tried.

Oh God, you truly tried.

You laid there in bed, body burning with desperate need as you tried not to think about what Matt was planning to do to you lest your predicament worsen.

You tried to read. You rolled onto your stomach and flipped your book back open, trying to pick up where you left off. It did no good—the words wouldn't permeate the fog of sinful thoughts swarming in your head that screamed Matt, Matt, Matt.

You thought about disobeying Matt and touching yourself, just to relieve some of that pressure building between your legs but quickly dismissed the idea. Matt would know if you did—he would smell the scent of your arousal on your fingers and instantly know what you had done. Even though the prospect of his punishment was excitement, tonight you didn't think you could stand his merciless teasing. You needed him desperately.

Eventually, after nearly an hour of lying there, you got out of bed and slipped your shoes on. You would go for a walk around the neighborhood, you decided. The fresh air would help clear your head and calm yourself down.

At least that's what you told yourself you would say if a certain Devil caught your scent and chased you down.

And if you were really just hoping that said Devil really would catch your scent...well, that was no one's business, was that?

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In an interesting twist of irony, you made it as far as the gates of Clinton Church before he caught up with you.

You thought you had heard him behind you several times as you walked, and you knew he must have been letting you hear his small footsteps and scuffles on purpose. If he wanted to, Matt could move like a giant Devilish cat, leaping across rooftops thought the dark in absolute silence.

But then you paused in front of the church, staring at the stained glass windows through which you could see the dark interior as you thought about that morning. You didn't even noticed the church doors slowly creeping open in front of your, too caught up in your thoughts.

Suddenly, a strong arm snaked around your waist and yanked you through the doors into the dark church. The startled gasp that flew from your lips at the quick movement was quickly stifled by a large hand over your mouth, but you weren't afraid. You could feel the familiar, broad line of muscle pressed against your back, his body heat that always burned so warm a comforting feeling after the cold New York air.

"I told you to wait for me," a low voice hissed in your ear.

You bit back a grin, the tingle of excitement in your stomach growing stronger. "I was just going out for a walk," you said innocently.

He growled behind you and dragged you towards the altar through the rows of empty pews. As your feet stumbled along, your eyes darted around the dark interior, sweeping for any sign of company. You shouldn't have been worried though—Matt had far more effectively scoped out the inside already to make sure no one else was there.

"Kneel," Matt ordered when they reached the altar.

You obeyed, dropping to your knees in front of the wooden table. The cloth that usually draped across it was absent tonight—perhaps being cleaned or for some other reason. It didn't matter. All that mattered right now was the man pressed against your back.

"You've been a bad girl tonight," Matt mused, his chest vibrating against your back when he spoke.

"Well, you were taking so long, so I thought I'd come find you," you replied sweetly, unable to keep the grin off your face this time.

Matt hadn't told you that you could move, so you kept still in the position he had ordered you in—kneeling in front of the altar facing forward away from the warm frame of muscle and power at your back. Your eyes turned, almost automatically, up towards the massive statue of Jesus hanging from the cross as you silently wondered if Matt really was planning on taking your right in front of that statue. You decided you wouldn't mind if he did.

Behind you, you could hear Matt pacing quietly, purposefully keeping out of your line of sight. He made a tsking noise. "So impatient," he tutted. "Perhaps I need to teach you the virtue of patience, don't you think, sweetheart?"

You licked your lips slowly. "What does this lesson on patience include, sir?" you asked, emphasizing the last word with a smirk.

His sharp inhale carried to your ears, and your grin widened. Your goal tonight was to rile Matt up enough that he would either forget about your disobedience or not care. So far, the plan was going great.

Then, his hand fisted in your hair and yanked your head back. Matt's burning form reappeared, pressed flushed against your back. His hot breath was in your ear suddenly, growling, "I want you to take these off—" his finger curled in the waistband of your pants and snapped them against your waist "—and get on your hands and knees."

When you didn't move at first, he landed a sharp hit to your clothed ass. You yelped, and his hand darted up to cover your mouth.

"Move, sweetheart," he ordered lowly. "And keep quiet. We don't want anyone hearing us here, do we?"

"No," you panted even though you weren't sure if you were telling the truth. His hand released your hair, and you scrambled to obey him, peeling off your jeans and tossing them aside before kneeling how he told you to. The position felt oddly exposed—you could feel cold air breezing across your naked legs and shivered.

"That's better," Matt murmured behind you. His bare hand—when had he taken off the gloves?—brushed against the back of your thigh, and you whimpered, instinctively pressing back against him. This time, when his hand came down your ass, you didn't have the denim of your jeans to protect you. The sound of his hand against the thin material of your panties echoed with a sharp crack through the church. You had to bring a hand up to fist in your mouth to keep quiet from the sting.

"So." He trailed a finger across the back of your thighs lazily, occasionally dipping them down to slide along the soaked fabric of your panties, taking pleasure in each of your hitched breathes. "You want to explain what that was about earlier?"

"I was just going for a walk," you whimpered, desperately arching back into him, but his fingers disappeared the moment you did. The next second, another sharp smack landed on your ass, jolting you forward with a small gasp.

"That's not what I was asking, and you know it," Matt said calmly. "I was talking about this morning."

A feeling of something—you didn't know what that was—ran down your spine, and you shivered, heart rate picking up at the memory of your little dalliance during mass.

"I don't know," you breathed.

Your heart skipped. Lie.

Another harsh strike landed on your ass. "You do."

"Fuck, Matt," you nearly cried, "please!"

"What are you asking for, hm?" Matt murmured, running a large palm over your stinging ass. "Tell me, sweetheart."

"Touch me, fuck me, anything," you begged. "Please, Matt, I've waited so long."

"Then you can wait a little more, can't you?"

"No," you panted, trying not to move, your body on fire. "Matt, please!"

He gave a thoughtful hum, fingers teasing you lightly through the thin fabric of your panties. Your hips bucked back instantly, a sharp whine leaving your throat at the touch. You tried to grind against his hand, but he yanked it away with a low, almost mocking chuckle.

"You've been naughty today, sweetheart," Matt purred. "Having such unholy thoughts in church—don't think I didn't know what you were thinking about. Tell me what were you imagining, hmm?"

Heat rose to your face, melting right along with the fire raging across the rest of your body. "I don't know," you stammered.

"Lie," Matt said, his voice darkly amused. His hand slid underneath your jaw and tilted your head back, so he could press his lips to the shell of your ear. "Were you thinking about me fucking you, sweetheart?"

A ragged moan fell from your mouth, a pulse of heat running across your spine. You let your head fall back against Matt's shoulder, arching back against him. The hand gripping your jaw stroked your cheek gently, a glimpse of softness underneath his dominating exterior.

"Please," you begged quietly. "I need it, Matt. I'll do anything, please..."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

He let out a quiet, considering noise, his fingers absently stroking your jaw with a gentleness that you had come to know precede the roughness. You whimpered quietly, begging him in your head to hurry up and do whatever the fuck he wanted to do so he could just fuck you already. Your body was aching with need, that fire in your raging to be satisfied.

"How well do you remember the Lord's Prayer?" Matt asked you abruptly.

You blinked in surprise. "T-the Lord's Prayer?"

"Yes."

"Um...kind of?" you said uncertainly. "Haven't done it since middle school." You felt the breath from his quiet laughter skate across your earlobe and twitched in anticipation of whatever he had planned.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said slowly, his tone dipping back down into the low timber of his Devil voice, the one that always sent shivers down your spine. "You're going to recite it for me as penance for your sins."

"I didn't—"

"Thinking about the Devil fucking you in church is a sin, sweetheart," Matt cooed. "You're going to need to repent if you want to get what you want."

"Y-you want me to pray."

"Yes."

"Right here. Kneeling in my panties. With you at my back, half grinding on my ass."

A sharp swat landed on your ass. "Hmm, it seems more like you were the one grinding on me," he chuckled lowly, dragging his finger along the seam of your underwear. "As for the panties, God might mind, but I don't think the Devil does. In fact, he prefers you praying like this. Go on, sweetheart. Say your prayer, and maybe I'll think about giving you what you want."

You drew in a shaky breath, trying to clear your head away from thoughts of Matt, fuck me already and remember the words of the prayer. This actually wasn't so bad, you decided. It was a bit of a weird request to pray, kneeling at the altar in soaked panties, but it was fine. All you had to do was recite the prayer, and then hopefully, Matt would be satisfied and finally give in to you.

Oh, how wrong you were.

"Okay," you started to say, the vaguely remembered words coming to the tip of your tongue. "Um...Our Father...who art in heaven...hallowed be...thy name?"

"Keep going," Matt purred in your ear, his hands sliding down from your face to lightly grip your throat for a brief moment, enjoying your shaky groan at the contact. He pushed you back down onto your hands and knees, hand running down to your waist and dragging sensually across your hips.

Whimpering at the touch, you bit your lip and forced the next words out. "Y-your kingdom come....and, um....your will be done—Matt, what are you—?"

For he had just hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and started to slide them down your hips. Your breath caught in your throat at the way the fabric slid against your most sensitive areas. "Don't worry about me," he murmured. "Just lift your legs up for me—there you go. Continue."

What the actual fuck? Did he honestly expect you to be even close to okay after that? He slid your panties completely free of your legs, leaving your soaked heat bare to him. You whimpered at the barely there brush of his fingers against your inner thigh, just a few inches away from where you ached for him most.

"Continue, sweetheart," Matt ordered.

You tried to take another deep breath and continue where you'd left off. "Okay, um...will be done...on—on Earth as it is in Heaven. Uh...give us this day our—fucking hell, Matthew—oh my God, fuck!"

You lurched forward, a strangled cry falling from your lips when you felt Matt's mouth suddenly close around your dripping cunt, tongue lashing mercilessly against your clit so fast and so sharp it nearly hurt. He kept up the torturous pace for a few seconds while you writhed and moaned, pleasure striking like lightning between your legs and arcing up to your back and across your legs. His mouth on you was both a remedy and fuel to the desperate need that had been kindling there all night. Your hands clawed at the carpet underneath you, fire burning across every nerve in your body as you shuddered and cried out for him.

Then, as suddenly as it came, his mouth vanished from your cunt in a heartbeat, and you were left just as empty and desperate as you were a few seconds ago.

"No!" you choked out, voice thick with fading pleasure and need as you tried to grind back against him uselessly. "Matt, please!"

He didn't answer your plea for a few moments, instead dragging his tongue across his lips and moaning softly as the taste of you. God, you were perfection to him, you always were. Matt wanted nothing more than to dive back between your legs and drink from you until you had nothing left to give him.

But half the enjoyment of the catch was the chase, and Matt was not done teasing you yet. He laughed darkly, landing another slap to your ass, gentler this time but no less firm. "I told you to pray, sweetheart," he reminded you. "I told you to pray and repent for your sins. And what do you do? Be a filthy little girl and start moaning for me? In God's house? What a dirty little girl you are."

Your mouth fell open at the sheer audacity of this man to accuse you of such a thing when he just fucking ate you out right in front of the altar. Still, there was no hiding the shudder that rolled through you at his words, and Matt gripped your hips firmer.

"You're going to finish your prayer," Matt ordered. "No matter what happens, and then we'll see if you deserve to get fucked."

"'No matter what happens?'" you repeated in a choked whisper. "Are you—you're not actually going to—"

Another hard hit landed on your ass, the sting only feeding the fire threatening to consume you. "Pray, sweetheart," Matt ordered. "Can't you follow a simple command?"

You swallowed thickly. "Y-yes, I can."

"Good. Then continue."

You whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore the burning, aching need for him between your legs. Where had you even left off on the prayer?

"Give us this day our daily bread," you stammered out. "And—um—forgive us our— oh God!"

Because fuck, his mouth was on you again, hungrily lapping at your cunt as you bucked against him desperately. His hot tongue dragged across your clit, and burning pleasure was scorching every inch of your skin. You threw back your head with a wanton moan when Matt circled the sensitive bud with a quick swipe of tongue that had you writhing in his firm grip.

"Matt!" you cried, molten heat rolling across every nerve in your body. Your hands curled against the carpet, desperately grasping for something to hold on to, to brace you against the raging fire licking at your insides.

Matt paused in his motions, pulling his mouth away for a second, but his finger came to replace his tongue, drawing languid circles on your clit that had you rolling your hips in desperation.

"I told you to pray," he told you again, quiet warning in his voice. "Don't make me remind you again."

A strangled noise fell from your lips. "Y-you keep eating me out, and you want me to pray?" you squeaked.

You didn't have to look back to know he had that feral grin on his lips, the one that always drove you insane. "Oh sweetheart, that was the plan from the beginning."

And his deliciously thick finger plunged into you with a sinfully slick noise that seemed to echo through the empty church like a reminder of the blasphemy taking place at the altar, and then you were writhing, whining, whimpering as Matt fucked you slowly with his middle finger. His purposefully slow, deliberate strokes had you moaning so loud, you thought anyone passing by the church might hear you. Each thrust of his finger inside of you stoked that deep, festering pleasure that burned in your very core, making you arch and cry out to a God too ashamed to answer you.

That was okay, you thought through a thick haze of pleasure. You didn't need God to answer you. You needed the Devil to fuck you.

Matt groaned, his eyes rolling back at the smell of your arousal. He dragged his tongue over his lips, bringing the delicious taste of you from the air into his mouth, heat rippling through him at that new sensation. Painfully hard and throbbing in his pants, Matt panted, desperately drawing another breath in just to drag more of your taste into him. You were exquisite. You were perfect, his good little girl, making such pretty noises for him. You were everything he needed and so much more.

His thumb dragged across your sensitive clit, sending jolts of fiery pleasure stabbing through you as that pressure started to build in your lower abdomen, fire coiling into a tight rope, ready to snap. And oh, there it was, sweet orgasm dancing within reach, so close but so far away. Half sobbing, you arched against him, desperately trying to get him to fuck you faster.

But then Matt's fingers withdrew suddenly, leaving you empty and aching, slick dripping down your thighs as a harsh sob left your chest. The burning edge of orgasm was already fading away. "Matt," you cried, "please! Please, Matt, please, you've been teasing me for so long—"

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he snarled, his hand fisting in your hair to yank your head back, so his lips were right against your ear. "Don't act like you didn't want this, you dirty little girl."

A wanton moan slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, before you could register the embarrassment. "I wanted you to fuck me," you groaned. "I need it, Matt, please."

Abruptly, he released his grip on your hair but not before delivering another harsh swat to your ass. "You want me to fuck you? Then do as I say," he commanded. "I gave you an order, sweetheart, and you still haven't followed it. You better finish that prayer before I decide to give you another punishment for not listening."

"I��I don't—"

Another hit to your ass. "Did you not hear me?" Matt growled, his voice all rough edges and heated ash drifting across your skin. "Or do you just enjoy being a brat?"

This, you thought vaguely, this should be embarrassing. The way he degraded you, the way he called you his dirty little girl, his brat—if it had been any other man, you would've beat the shit out of him. But oh, it was him, it was your Matt, it was your Devil whispering filthy words to you, and every single syllable sent another pulse of heat rolling through you like molten lava.

"This is your last warning," Matt said lowly. "Finish your prayer now, or I'll give you another punishment."

Your brain scrambled to comprehend what he was saying, or at least some part of your brain that hadn't shut down, that wasn't giving in to primal instinct to beg Matt to fuck you. Where the fuck had you even left off?

"...F-forgive us our trespasses as we forgive...our—no, uh, those who trespass against us. And, um, lead us not into temptatio—ah, Matt!"

God, this time it was two of his wonderfully thick fingers pushing into you abruptly, thick heat pulsing through you. Your hips bucked against him instinctively, seeking moremoremore. The words of the prayer died on your tongue, replaced by shameless whimpers and moans as Matt dragged them out slowly and then shoved them back in a harsh thrust, the tips of his fingers barely grazing that spot, deep inside of you. Desperate, keening cries tumbled from your mouth as you threw your head back, gasping and whining.

You—oh God—you needed more. Hot pleasure wormed its way through your body, consuming every other thought until you were left with nothing but primal, wanton need. Your arms trembled as you barely held yourself up, cunt throbbing around Matt's fingers achingly.

This time, when Matt pulled your hair back and snarled in your ear, his fingers didn't leave you. Instead, they continued their torturously slow pace even as he purred, "Finish the goddamn prayer, sweetheart, and don't make me ask again."

You knew better than to protest the unfairness of him making you recite a prayer while he fucked you on his fingers in front of the altar. You could barely summon a thought that wasn't fuck me, Matt, please, but you managed to choke out the next line.

"Deliver us from evil," you sobbed even as Matt brushed his thumb across your clit again, making you jolt at the sharp pleasure racing along the bud of sensitive nerves. "I—ah!—don't know the rest—" you stammered, desperate to reach the end.

"Lie," he chuckled in your ear. "Lie one more time, and that prayer is going to be the least of your problems, sweetheart."

Your head fell back against his hand, eyes falling shut as your needy whimpers echoed along the church walls. His fingers had picked up pace, and now Matt pressed them deep enough to just ever so slightly brush against your g-spot. Even that brief, barely there contact was enough to have you dripping and throbbing on his fingers.

"Finish it," Matt cooed in your ear. "Come on, honey, you're so close."

In both ways, you thought distantly in your muddled mind. "Please!" you cried.

"Finish the last bit, and you can come," he promised.

Well, that changed things. Spurred on by his vow, you blinked harshly, trying to put aside the scorching pleasure arcing through your body for a second.

"For the—the kingdom and—uh something about power and glory—is yours, uh, nowandforeveramen," you rushed out, squeezing your eyes shut, and begging, begging that it was good enough for Matt.

"Hmm," he hummed, considering. Should he make you redo that last bit? Technically it wasn't correct, and how he would love to hear you cry for him if he made you repeat it. But then you ground your hips back, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers with a strangled cry of "please, sir!" And oh, how he could deny that?

Matt didn't reply, but you heard him shifting behind you, the rhythm of his fingers pausing for a second. A half sobbed plea was forming on your lips, but it was chased away in a heartbeat when the glorious wet heat of Matt's mouth closed around your cunt again.

Sinfully loud moans and gasps tore from your throat, your head falling forward. Fiery pleasure almost too much to handle burned between your legs, coursing up through your entire body until your toes were curling and your hands gripping the carpet. Matt lapped at your clit like a man starved, all while his fingers resumed their motions, finally picking up pace, settling into a fast rhythm you so desperately needed.

You were racing towards your climax at a speed that would've been embarrassing if Matt hadn't been edging you all night. "Please," you choked out, tears streaming down your face from the sheer intensity of it all. "Please, Matt, you said I could come, I need it, please—"

And his hand that was holding on to you squeezed your hip, and that was all the confirmation you needed. Wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, Matt curled his fingers inside of you just right, pressing down on that spot, and then you just fell. Off that high cliff you had been dancing to and from for the entire night.

The plummet was truly something else: your back arched, and a ragged cry—almost scream—was falling from your mouth, incoherent noises and words reaching Matt's ears as orgasm surged over you like a tidal wave, knocking you off your feet and dragging you under into a blanket of blissful oblivion. You swore you saw stars popping in the corners of your blurry vision, so much white-hot pleasure burning through you, it was almost incomprehensible.

Matt slowed the drag of his fingers but kept up soft little kitten licks on your clit as you came down until you were twitching and whimpering from the oversensitivity. But he didn't wait for you to fully recover before continuing.

In one swift move, he flipped you over into your back, and you got a glimpse of his powerful form leaning over you, his flushed face, his straining bulge in his pants, his lust-filled eyes burning into you before his mouth crashed against yours in a fiery kiss.

You could practically feel his hunger devouring you from that kiss from the way he claimed your lips, hot tongue pressing into your mouth the second you opened to him. His teeth lightly nipped your bottom lip, and your moan was swallowed by his tongue sliding against yours. Matt groaned into your mouth, his hips grinding down against you.

"Matt," you whined when he broke the kiss to let you come up for air. "Please, I need you."

He growled, the hungry sound nothing short of feral as he dipped his head to suck at your neck. The hot embrace of his mouth at your throat had you keening, tilting your head back for more, which he gave you, his teeth grazed the delicate, vulnerable skin. A low hum rippled through his form before he suddenly sank his teeth into your neck, nipping you hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped, body involuntarily arching up into him as Matt dragged his tongue over the spot he had bit as if soothing it.

"Wanna mark you, sweetheart," he moaned into your neck. "So they know who you belong to."

Jesus fucking Christ. This man was going to be the death of you.

"Fuck me," you begged. "I want it, Matt, please. Mark me, fuck me, make me yours."

Another feral snarl rumbled deep in his chest, and then suddenly, you were lifted up into the air before your back hit a cold, stone table.

Did he just put you on the fucking altar?

You didn't have time to think about that, however, because Matt was hurriedly unbuckling his pants, and the only thought left in your head was finally. Eagerly, you helped him shove those goddamn pants off his hips, licking your lips at the sight of his straining cock in his boxers before you yanked those down too, reveling in Matt's soft whimper. His cock was painfully hard, the tip bright red and slick with his precum that dripped down his throbbing length. The mere sight of his gorgeous cock had you clenching your thighs together as you wrapped your hand around his thigh girth, stroking him softly. The throaty moan of your name he let out sent shivers racing down your spine.

"Sweetheart," he groaned, eyes falling shut.

"Please," you whined, "I need you, Matt. I need you inside me."

"Fuck," he breathed, and his fingers curled around your hips, yanking you forward suddenly. With a gasp, you were dragged across the altar until your legs could wrap around Matt, who was standing right between between thighs, all that thick, powerful muscle cradled between your legs. Matt lined his cock up with your entrance and brought his hand out to cradle your face. "I want to hear you scream for me," he ordered. "I want everyone to hear who you belong to."

You whimpered, nodding frantically. "I—yes, Matt, yes, just please—just fuck me, Matt."

Even like this, flushed, panting, and as obviously needy as you were, he could still manage that cocky smirk as his finger brushed across your lips. "You asked for it," he chuckled and finally, finally pushed himself into you, inch by burning inch.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, your mouth falling open as slowly, he slid his thick length into you, the stretch of him in your cunt welcome after the emptiness of so long. "Matt," you moaned when he finally bottomed out, his ragged groan matching your own. God, he was so big, so thick, seated deep inside of you. His burning body molded perfectly against you, the endless expanse of lean muscle and soft skin glorious underneath your roaming hands.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," he panted, dragging his cock out slowly and sliding back in, his leisure pace driving you mad. "Ah!—fuck—you're so tight, baby."

"Want you," you moaned, arching into him. "Want you to fuck me. Fuck me the way I know you want to, Matt, please."

He let out another ragged groan, the hand cradling your cheek moving down to wrap around your throat, not squeezing but just holding for the time being. "Y-yeah?" he stuttered, trying to sound rough and in control but failing as he swallowed down another eager moan. You loved watching him like this, watching the way he fell apart in front of you, all because of you. "And what's that?"

You wrapped your legs around Matt's hips to let him grind deeper into your cunt, matching his heady pant with a needy whimper of your own. "Y-you wanna fuck me hard," you moaned out. "Could feel it, Matt, could feel the way you want it. Please, I—I can take it, I need you to—oh fuck!—fuck me rough. Take me, Matt, please."

His growl rumbled deep in his throat, and the large hand gripping your throat squeezed just once. Matt dipped his head down to place a kiss on your lips, sweet and gentle one last time as he purred against your mouth.

Then, he braced his other hand next to your head on the altar, and when he dragged his hips back, this time he returned to you with a vicious snap of his hips, slamming his cock back into you. A strangled gasp flew from your mouth as your hands scrambled against the altar surface beneath you, trying to find something to hold onto.

But there was nothing, nothing other than you and Matt and the fast, rough, almost brutal pace he set as he drove himself into you again and again. This pleasure was so much deeper and stronger than before, each delicious drag of his cock against your slick cunt sending sparks careening through your body until your brain felt overloaded with bliss. The sounds you two were making were nothing short of downright filthy: the slap of skin on skin as Matt's hips collided with your thighs, the slick noise of his cock gliding through your obscene wet cunt, the sinfully loud moans falling from both of your lips.

Matt's grip on your throat tightened when you clenched around his cock, and he growled, the sound thick and hazy with lust and need. He picked up his pace even more, fucking you so hard you knew you were going to feel it tomorrow, but you didn't give a shit. Worth it, in your opinion, if it came from Matt Murdock railing you like this.

"Matt," you slurred, half drunk on the pleasure he gave you. He stroked your jaw with his thumb, his blank eyes, dark with arousal and lust, focused somewhere around your lips.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he panted, his hips driving into you with animal-like need. "Y-you feel so good. So wet, so tight just for me. You sound so—fucking pretty getting fucked on my cock."

You whined, writhing beneath him even as his hand not gripping your throat pressed against your waist to hold you down. Every goddamn nerve in your body was screaming, burning, scorching with the pleasure that rolled across your body in throbbing waves. Matt adjusted his grip on your waist, lifting you up every so slightly but oh at that perfect angle that let him hit your g-spot with each thrust of his hips.

Your high moan, pitched almost at a scream, was the result as mind numbing pleasure sparked between your thighs with each harsh thrust. You clenched tighter around Matt, spurring his frantic thrusts on until he was pounding into you at a pace close to brutal, the obscene squelch of his cock diving into your soaked cunt echoing around you like an unholy melody, the chorus being your screams.

Matt leaned over you, panting roughly. You could smell the sweet scent of musk and sex in the air and see the way his pink mouth parted with each heavy breath against your throat. He lowered his head to drag along your cheek until his lips were pressed against your ear.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he groaned. "I can feel you, you're almost there." And you were for the second time that night, you could feel the cloud of your orgasm hovering right above you, pushed closer and closer by each brutal stroke of his cock inside of you.

"Come on, honey, come on my cock," Matt ordered, and you whined. "You're taking my cock so well, all you have to do is come for me. Be my good little girl and come all over my fucking cock."

That was all you needed. Your back arched off the altar, your hands shot out to grab desperately at Matt, your eyes squeezed shut, and your head was thrown back in absolute bliss. This time, orgasm rolled over you slower than the first time but even more intense. It scorched its way through every nerve ending in your body, consuming you like a blanket of fiery heat, making your vision go white. Distantly, you heard yourself scream—actually scream—as you descended into a blank state of pure, utter pleasure.

You could feel Matt's pace growing sloppy and frantic, short, desperate thrusts as he panted and groaned louder and louder until his hips stuttered against yours, and the most beautiful moan you had ever heard left his lips. He emptied himself into you, and you felt his hot seed spilling deep inside of your cunt even as Matt continued to grind into your tightness until every last drop of his spent was buried inside of you. He slumped over your body on the altar, both of your chests heaving in sync as you came down from your highs together.

Finally, Matt lifted his head from your chest and peered at you with his lovely dark eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked uncertainly. "Was that too much?"

You cradled his face in your hands, marveling how this wonderful, wonderful man was yours. "It was perfect," you promised, kissing him sweetly. "It's never too much. I love you, Matt."

"Hmm," he hummed contently into your mouth. "I love you so much, sweetheart. You're sure you're okay?"

"Oh I am absolutely glowing, Matthew. If I had known this is what you meant when you said you wanted me to come to church with you, I would've came ages ago."

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AN: It's been a hot second since I've written full blown smut, so forgive me if it's kinda rusty. Although I feel like I should be asking forgiveness for this whole fic soooo 🤷‍♀️ I wanna say I need to go to church after writing this, but the last time I was in church, I came up with the most unholy smut fic idea ever, so maybe not a good idea (maybe it'll inspire another one though)

If you enjoyed, please remember to like, comment, and reblog! 🖤

My Matt Murdock Masterlist

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I love your work as always!

Can I request Reader, being from the village and being devout to Mother Miranda all their life, hasn’t forgotten their devotion to her and still prays every night. Normally this wouldn’t bother Donna.. but she starts to get jealous. Every prayer reader makes Donna imagines possesive and dark thoughts about Reader praying to her instead. One night during a particularly lengthy prayer, Donna snaps and let’s her dark thoughts consume her by making Reader not only pray to her, but make her worship her. Smut please G!P Donna if you want! Thank you for all you do 🖤

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your support and for your request!!!!Thank you for reading me!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Pray

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, dark themes, dark Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 8,550

Summary: I'm the one who can be your Goddess...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

I never asked for mercy, I never demanded a place in this world full of shadows, but still, I got it. I can't complain about obtaining eternal life. I don't even have the right to protest about the horror that the gift of the Gods did to the scar on my face, about how they had fun transforming my body. A life of eternal youth, of power, of having the ability to influence others, to scare them, to make them fear me...

After that second chance, I thought that loneliness was over, but it was just an illusion, a passing thought that never came true. Over time I realized that maybe that was my fate; that I, Donna Beneviento, was born to be a Lord and not a normal, ordinary woman.

My madness existed long before the Cadou, and it continued to exist after. If I was a hermit before, I was a monster now. I didn't really care too much if those poor villagers thought that way, they could call me whatever they wanted.

With a snap of my fingers I could make them suffer, punish them even if I had no reason to do so. Yes, it was funny to play with the lives of those perfect fools, but even that small thrill of creating nightmares in their minds stopped being funny.

Loneliness consumed me little by little without me being aware of it. Thanks to Angie, I was able to bear this new life better, but that had one big difference: I couldn't escape from this life.

Years passed and nothing changed. I began to understand what it meant to be someone like me, to be feared. I never sought out contact with other people. I never wanted to end that loneliness, until I met you.

If I had acted the same way as always, that is, making a stupid excuse not to attend Mother Miranda's sermon… Well, I probably wouldn't have met you.

You were a strange, but beautiful girl. That was the first thing I thought. My black veil protected me from the horrified gazes of those stupid villagers, but it also protected you from seeing me looking at you.

A young girl who wasn't afraid to kneel before the Black Gods, a beautiful growing woman who clasped her hands to pray for her salvation. It was impossible for such a sight not to catch my attention. After all, any kind of contact was new to me, any strange feeling I had when looking at you was a new discovery.

It wasn't love at first. I could say it was more like... Fixation.

My siblings were always clear about their position in the village. They always knew they could do whatever they wanted with those poor souls. Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if I had given in to my instincts, if my approach hadn't been silent.

You would only be one more victim, I would have terrified you. I would have never given you the chance to try to get to know me.

I would have had you, I would have taken you as I imagined so many times in my lonely nights, I would have enjoyed your body but… I would have lost you.

I would have lost that warmth your smile transmitted, the touch of those soft hands, that tender look… I couldn't say if it would have been worth possessing you, claiming you as mine as soon as I met you.

But the good side of my conscience, the side that had not yet been conquered by the demons of my madness was the one that guided me, the one that forced me to repress my primary desires, the one that showed me the right way to have you and never lose you.

Love was always a mystery to me. I couldn't understand what made people feel weak in contact with others. Yes, I had read a lot of novels that talked about it, I knew it existed, but I needed to see it to believe.

Your smile never faded, not even the day I looked for you in the church, when I heard your beautiful voice for the first time. Your voice sounded sweet, much better than any nightmare scream, than any call for help.

After meeting you, I realized how wrong I was about my impure thoughts. Love existed, it lived in you.

Neither my face nor my body stopped you from looking at me that way, one that drove me even crazier, that made me feel like I could fly, that my loneliness had an expiration date.

It was hard for me to understand what an angel like you could have seen in a demon like me, but… Yes, love could do those things. Admitting that I loved before kissing you was difficult for me.

My sister said that love was weakness; that any desire I had shouldn’t interfere with absurd feelings. I didn't listen to her.

It didn't take long for you to live with me, to give in to my pleas. You were so sweet, so tender, so… You.

Then I understood what my sister didn't understand, the difference between loving and satisfying, between asking and taking. Did she ever feel that way about one of her maids? Well, I can't deny it outright, but I'm convinced that she didn't.

Asking you for a kiss was much better than stealing it from you. Caressing your hands was much better than tying them behind your back. They were free to touch me, to slide over my skin in the same way, it was an incredibly pleasurable sensation.

Taking your innocence was much better than stealing it from you, making love to you was much better than raping you, than letting the darkness inside me claim your body.

Enjoying the dance of our bodies, that unmatched feeling of being inside you and looking into your eyes, watching the sparkle in your gaze as you burned with pleasure couldn’t compare to hearing you scream, beg, fight against my attacks.

For once in my sad life, I think I did the right thing, and I don't regret it, nor will I ever regret it.

“(Y/N)?” I asked walking towards the kitchen, where your sweet humming echoed in the walls, like a voice that guided me to you, as an indication that it was not a dream, that love had come into my life, and would never leave, would never dare to do so.

(Y/N), if you ever dared to even think about leaving me... I would lose my mind, I would hurt you...

“Donna…” you said laughing, protesting the kisses that attacked your neck, the effusiveness that my body had every time I saw you in the morning. “Hey, I'm making breakfast.”

I laughed the same way, pushing the hair from your neck and kissing it before leaning on the counter, hypnotized by your beauty, by your way of being.

Sometimes I wonder what you could see in a monster like me…

“Did you sleep well, tesoro?” I asked innocently, without being able to take my horrendous eye off your figure, off that elegance you had, which made no sense in a simple villager like you.

Could love turn a commoner into a princess?

“Oh, yes,” you answered with a soft voice, focused on that magnificent breakfast. “Thanks to the Black Gods and Mother Miranda.”

“Ahem,” I cleared my throat in a playful way, looking away, pretending to be offended.

“Oh, and to you, darling, of course,” you said, running a hand through mine as an apology. “How about you?”

“I’m fine,” I said dryly, looking away.

Nothing you had said could make me angry or cool down the desire I had every morning to love you, but there was something, something that sounded in my head like a tedious loop, and that had been doing so for a long time.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding with a smile. “Oh, could you go up and set the table?”

“Sure,” I said, kissing your cheek quickly, coming out of that strange moment, one that was becoming more and more evident.

“You are an angel, did you know that?” you said before I disappeared through the door, forcing me to stop with an involuntary smile as I shook my head.

“That's not true,” I said, trying not to let the darkness take over my words, not to let the demons out of the cage I made for them. “But, thank you…”

I went up in the elevator like every morning, reflecting on how my life had changed. My hands trembled involuntarily when my mind took charge of worrying me, of taking me out of that paradise to take me back to hell.

My life with you was perfect but… Did perfection really last forever? That was, of course, my greatest fear.

Happiness was fleeting, or so they used to say. I try to keep those thoughts away, but sometimes it's complicated.

I know what I am like, I know I am… Possessive, jealous, I don't allow you certain things that should be normal, but I can't help it. Losing you after having raped you would have been horrible but… Losing you when I already know the love you can give me, when I know how your kisses, your caresses feel…

Hell could not compare to that. I would surely hurt you, make you suffer, but you wouldn’t feel the damage, it would be torture for me.

“Hey, you, buongiorno!” a shrill voice managed to wake me from those horrible thoughts, from those imaginary scenarios in which your smile no longer adorned your face and you begged for compassion.

Luckily, Angie had always been with me. She was conscience that was part of me and at the same time was so different… I wonder if the doll my father gave me stole that part of my personality that never dared to come to light.

“You?” I said with a smile, picking up the doll from the floor and putting her disastrous clothes on, something that always comforted me. “Buongiorno, Angie.”

“Where's the fool?” the doll asked, peeking over my shoulder, looking at the elevator hallway.

“Don't call her that, you know I hate it,” I protested, frowning and leaving the puppet back on the floor.

“Fool, fool, fool,” she repeated mockingly, making me roll my eye as I walked to the cupboard. “Can't I say she's a fool?”

“(Y/N) isn't a fool, stop making fun of her,” I said in a somber tone.

No one could ever insult you, no one.

“Hey, hey, hey, Donna, Donna,” Angie said, tugging on my dress impatiently. I snorted, but stopped setting the table to look at her. “Do you know what that silly… I mean, (Y/N) made me do yesterday?”

“Angie, per favore…” I sighed again, with a serious look, pushing the puppet away from my clothes. “Leave me alone.”

“That silly girl made me pray, can you believe it?” Angie said climbing onto the table to get my attention even more, something she was mysteriously an expert at.

“Pray? You?” I asked curiously, with a mocking smile.

“Yes, me, that silly girl said I had to show more respect for Mother Miranda,” the puppet explained and I frowned again.

“You have no respect for anyone,” I whispered, meticulously placing all the plates and cutlery, not paying attention to the doll’s complaints. “Just do what she tells you.”

“Ohh, I see…” Angie murmured, shaking her head, crossing her arms. “So you defend her, huh?”

“Of course I defend her,” I said seriously, straightening the tablecloth. A perfect table for a perfect girl… as expected. “You know how devoted she is.”

“You only defend her because you play baby-making with her,” she protested unpleasantly, making me look up and growl.

“Basta, Angie,” I said in a stern tone. “I don't know where you learned all that rudeness.”

“From here, silly Donna,” the doll said, hitting my head, making me protest again.

“Ugh…” I complained about the blows. “Stay still, will you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Angie mocked. “It must be very hard for you to be the second, right?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked confused.

It shouldn't be difficult for me to know how to interpret the doll's words, but she knew very well how to confuse me.

“This morning she rejected you again,” Angie said, getting down from the table. “I know.”

“What? Well, she didn't exactly reject me,” I said, remembering that moment when I woke up and my body was begging to be released by your caresses, by yours… “She just doesn't like me to interrupt her while she prays.”

“Of course, of course…” the doll mocked me again, making me snort tired of her attitude. “Oh, Mother Miranda, yes, Mother Miranda… I prefer to pray to you than to let Donna stick her…”

“Taci!” I shouted furiously, clenching my fists on both sides of my hips, breathing heavily. “Stop saying stupid and rude things.”

“Sorry, Your Majesty,” she said with an ironic tone, pretending to bow. “Admit it.”

“What?” I asked, shaking my head and waiting impatiently for you to come up, to free me from the accusations of the doll.

“It bothers you,” Angie said with a proud tone. “That the fool ignores you because she spends most of her time praying to Miranda bothers you.

“It doesn't bother me,” I said, sure of my words. “She is free to pray as much as she wants.”

“Honestly, it would bother me,” the doll commented, with a calmer tone.

It wasn't possible, it was simply not possible for my doll to be able to navigate each of my thoughts.

“I'm not you,” I hissed crossing my arms in a cocky manner. “(Y/N) is the love of my life and I don't care about her devotion to Miranda, it's a good thing, in fact.”

“She would have to be devoted to you and not to Miranda,” Angie explained.

“You know perfectly well that it has nothing to do with me,” I said in a dark tone.

I don't know at what point I insisted on arguing with the doll. You loved me, only me.

“It has nothing to do with you? Are you completely sure about that, Donna?” the puppet asked, before the elevator rang, indicating that you were finally at my side.

I remained thoughtful, searching for a silent answer to that question. No, it didn't bother me, that devotion of yours, that fervent adoration you felt for Miranda was never a problem for me but, as I sat in front of you, helping you serve breakfast, Angie's words traveled through my head.

Are you completely sure about that, Donna?

“I was starting to think you weren't coming,” I said with a fake smile, kindly serving you a cup of that perfect coffee you made. Everything you made was perfect, everything.

“Well, I'd like to say that I stopped getting lost in the basement but I'd be…” you said in a sweet voice, with a slight blush on your cheeks.

“Lying,” I finished your sentence in a dry way.

Sometimes my voice doesn't match my intentions but, of course, you already knew that.

“Hey, Donna!” you said abruptly, giving my hand a soft slap when I reached out to grab one of your perfect pieces of toast.

I opened my eye wide and pulled my hand back, rubbing the place where you hit it with a sad look.

“We should pray first,” you said as you lowered your head, joining your hands together. I looked at you with a frown and then turned my eye to Angie, who was laughing, probably at me. “Come on, sweetheart.”

I sighed, blinking and shaking my head and clasped my hands together as you closed your eyes.

“Great ones, hear our voice, together as one in reverence,” you began with a pleasant whisper, but for some reason, it didn’t feel that way to me this time. “We on thee you within the endless dark, to deliver us into fate’s hands… Donna…”

I blinked, sighing. Of course, you noticed that I hadn’t prayed with you in a while.

Why would I want to pray, (Y/N)? I was a damn Lord.

“Yes…” I sighed with a groan. “Um… Um…

“As the midnight…” you said to help me continue with what I refused to do. Normally it wasn't a problem for me, in fact, I had been hearing that prayer for many years, too many. I just didn't want to do it that day.

"As the midnight moon rises on black wings, so we make our sacrifice,” we said at the same time, “and we wait for the light at the end. In life, and in death, we give glory, Mother Miranda…”

“That's it, you can eat,” you said with a smile once you let your hands go. I looked at you intensely and confusedly.

Are you completely sure about that, Donna?

“Va bene…” I sighed, picking up the toast again, buttering it while I struggled with my own conscience.

No, there was nothing wrong with your fervent devotion. You were a good faithful to Mother Miranda, and that had to be good for both of us, right? Right?

The sound of cutlery was the only thing that could be heard in the quiet morning. A pleasant sound, proof that you were by my side, that your smile was there for me to look up and contemplate it as many times as I wanted. Angie only said nonsense.

“You look beautiful this morning, tesoro,” I commented, daring to break the silence with a compliment, one that caused your body to move nervously, pleased by my words.

You bit your lip without answering, lowering your head to avoid me noticing your embarrassment.

“Donna…” you sighed romantically. “You are very flattering today.”

“Just today?” I asked amused, trying to seduce you with my gaze, something simple, but that somehow seemed more complicated to me. “(Y/N), I, I would like… I would like to change the portrait on the stairs.”

“The portrait?” you asked curiously, blowing on the hot coffee. “Why? It's beautiful, Donna…”

“Well, that's your opinion,” I said somewhat nervously, shaking my head. “You know it's not loyal to reality.”

“Mm, it's true,” you said nodding, resting your head on one of your hands and blinking childishly. “Reality is much better.”

“You’re very flattering too,” I whispered tenderly, playing with the hand you had absentmindedly left on the table, a serious mistake. Mine would always look for it.

“The Gods have granted me a good mood today,” you said with a confident tone that made me suddenly withdraw my hand, forcing my brow to frown again.

Are you completely sure about that, Donna?

“C-Certo,” I stammered, playing with the toast, hardening my gaze, looking away from yours. “I, what I wanted to tell you is that… Well, now that you're with me, I'd like to change the portrait for, for one of us, you know, of the two of us.”

“Really?” you asked with shining eyes, ones that I couldn't resist, that I couldn't help but look at again. “I think it's a great idea, Donna.”

“I thought so,” I whispered, taking your hand again. “I'll talk to Alcina and…”

“Wait, well, it's a good idea but…” you interrupted with a thoughtful smile.

“But?” I asked nervously. “What's wrong, tesoro?”

“Now that you mention the portraits…” you murmured looking erratically around you. “…I've realized that this house is missing something.”

“What's missing?” I asked curiously, looking at the same places as her.

“I can't believe it, Donna,” you said with a stern but at the same time amused voice. “Isn't there a single portrait of Mother Miranda?”

“A portrait of Mother Miranda?” I asked, moving my hand away again, letting the romanticism of that perfect breakfast be distorted by your words.

I couldn't, I shouldn't be annoyed, but I was.

“Yes,” you said, nodding, with an innocent tone and a smile that, of course, wasn't for me. “Well, I know that you're like her daughter and that you're a Lord… But, Donna, that doesn't exempt you from your obligations.”

“Obligations,” I murmured confused, with my heart beating fast, furious for no apparent reason.

“Yes, my love… Mother Miranda loves and protects us and the least we can do is bless our home with her presence.”

I laughed nervously, I didn't know if it was because of how ridiculous that sounded, or because Angie's words made more and more sense.

“I don't see the joke, Donna,” you said with a serious tone, relaxing your smile and crossing your arms

“I'm not laughing…” I said swallowing a growl and shaking my head. “Tesoro, that's not necessary. Mother Miranda is always with all of us, besides, I'm the one who takes care of you and protects you,” I hissed with a voice that was perhaps too dark, perhaps taken out of context, out of place.

For some reason, saying that made me feel good…

“Why can you take care of me and protect me?” you asked with a certain irony, with a tone that made me clench my fists unconsciously.

“Because I love you?” I said, with that same tone, one lacking the love and romanticism with which I always communicated with you.

“No, darling, because Mother Miranda adopted you as her daughter, took pity on you and saved you from your misery. I can't believe you're that ungrateful,” you said with a serious voice, with that smile off your face.

I could think you were joking, exaggerating, but the lack of sparkle in your eyes confirmed my suspicions. Damn, (Y/N) you were completely serious.

“Ungrateful? Me?” I asked, getting up from the chair and pointing at myself. “I'm a Lord, (Y/N).”

“Mm yes, so that gives you the right to be more important than Mother Miranda?” you answered quickly.

You weren't stupid, that's why I fell in love with you, although I never thought it would turn against me.

“No… Yes… Well, I don't know, (Y/N), I should be more important than Miranda, at least for you,” I said angrily, fixing my furious eye on yours.

Again, you didn't even flinch.

“Mother Miranda,” you corrected smugly. “Come on, Donna, don't tell me you're jealous of her…”

“Jealous? No, of course I’m not,” I said suddenly, defending myself as best I could.

“You're very nervous, honey. Sit down and relax…” you whispered with a voice that pretended to be calm, with the same voice you put when I lost my mind, when I suffered my terrible crises.

That wasn't one of them. My anger wasn't irrational, it made sense.

“Y-You make me nervous, (Y/N),” I protested, shaking my head. “I understand you are devout and, well, I don't care, but you have to be clear about one thing, tesoro... Mother Miranda isn't here, but I am, do you understand?”

“You are selfish,” you hissed, looking away, something that made me blink in confusion. “Can't there be anyone else in my life but you?”

“Am I selfish for wanting my girl to pay some attention to me?” I asked, gritting my teeth.

“I pay you attention, Donna, all you want,” you said, drinking your coffee calmly. “But the Gods don't tolerate blasphemy and I remain faithful to them, as well as to Mother Miranda.”

“Yes, but...” I said confused, starting to lose that argument.

“No, Donna, respect my beliefs, okay?” you demanded with a cold look.

I growled, crossing my arms and shaking my head.

“I'm sorry,” I said after a few minutes of tense silence. “I didn't mean to offend your beliefs, (Y/N).”

“That's much better, darling… Come here, come,” you said with a tender smile, indicating me to come closer and softly kissing my lips. “You know I love you, right?”

Do you love her too? That's what I would have liked to say, but I didn't want to.

“I love you too,” I whispered back, caressing her cheek, a gesture that made you blush again. “Fine, I'll look for a portrait of Mir… Of Mother Miranda…”

“Great, great,” you said excitedly jumping for joy and kissing me again. “Thank you, my love… I'm going to pick this up.”

A nasty laugh reached my ears as you disappeared down the elevator hallway.

“Silly Donna,” Angie mocked, pretending to writhe in laughter on the floor.

“That was your fault,” I hissed, kicking the floor furiously, a fury I couldn’t use against you, I never could.

“Mine? Liar,” the doll protested.

“Ugh,” I growled, with a furious look. “You made me think such horrible things, Angie.”

“Horrible things? Oh, right, you mean that the silly girl prefers Miranda over you…” she said in a sinister tone I tried to ignore.

“That’s not true,” I said to myself, running a hand over my forehead. I needed to relax.

“No? Tell me, Donna, where are you going to put Miranda's portrait, on the bedside table? Yes, yes, that's the best place,” the doll mocked, straining my patience even more. “I'm sure (Y/N) will let you fuck her while she looks at her in admiration…”

“Angie!” I screamed furiously, scaring the doll, who ran away laughing. “Ugh, cazzo… vaffanculo!” I shouted, walking towards the elevator, heading to forget that horrible morning with my dolls, the best I could do.

“Who's the rude one now?”

I never really saw your devotion as something wrong. I met you in church. I knew how faithful you were to Mother Miranda and the Gods.

That was part of your personality. That blind and obsessive faith was part of you, it was something I couldn't take away from you and, honestly, I never saw the need to do so. Every night we spent together, you prayed, you prayed before sleeping, before eating, before… Well, before doing anything.

I even thought it was adorable. After all, Mother Miranda created me.

Every night I saw your devotion expressed in your words, gratitude for being with me, and that relieved me. It could just be a phase, a habit you had when you lived in the village, but over time I realized that it wasn’t like that.

Being faithful to Miranda was fine, it saved me trouble. It saved me from having to protect you more than necessary. You were the perfect villager to the priestess, a brainless zombie who would never question her decisions, or mine.

Again, my older sister's words stirred my conscience. Alcina was probably the most faithful to Miranda, too faithful. I always thought there was something more behind that servitude, something that perhaps resembled what I felt for you.

But that wasn’t important. Alcina's and Moreau's devotion to Miranda was almost as sick as yours, but with one big difference.

I have always wondered what was in the heads of the castle's maids, if any of them had such devotion to the leader of the village.

For me it was impossible to know. I never spoke to them and I rejected Alcina's offer to use them many times.

In their eyes, in their helpful glances, I always saw the devotion that was somewhat similar to yours, but at the same time quite different. They didn’t pray to Mother Miranda, their Gods were not the Black Gods. Their only deity, the only thing those girls cared about was Alcina.

They lived for her, they would give their lives for her, they worshipped her. I would even dare to say they prayed to her. What I had previously seen as a horrible and disturbing thought began to sound better and better in my head.

For the maids Alcina was their Goddess, for you, your only Goddess was Mother Miranda.

Envy began to make me dizzy. It's not that I wanted to be like my sister, I could never be like her but... While I tried to distract myself with my dolls, the images passed over and over again in my mind.

“Damn it...” I muttered, dressing an inert porcelain body.

I began to imagine what it would be like if you were my faithful devotee, the things you would say to me, do to me, how you would behave if I were something more like Miranda to you. At first they were innocent images, but the darkness of my conscience made me turn away from those simple thoughts in which you only changed by ceasing to pray every night, every hour.

No, that wasn’t enough to calm my soul. Alcina wasn’t a boring woman, she played with her faithful servants; they worshipped her in a carnal way. They knelt before her, just as you did with Miranda.

I imagined you doing the same, worshipping me, praying to me, making me feel like your Goddess, forcing you to kneel before me, to dispose of your body when I, your Goddess, wanted it, in the way I wanted. Dark thoughts, yes, but they sent shivers through my body.

Claiming my superiority over the village vermin wasn’t difficult for me, but… Trying to make you look at me the way you did with Miranda… That would be more complicated.

Lust interrupted my fears, sending me images of you kneeling, caressing me with a smile while your tongue acted divinely, worshipping my body, wanting it inside yours.

Pulling your hair, forcing you to kiss my penis, to worship it as part of my divinity… It deviated from my true concerns, causing my body to act accordingly.

“Oh…” I sighed as the heat began to overwhelm me, as my hand gently passed over my sudden erection, forming a bulge in the black fabric of my dress.

I needed to take you, and I needed it right then.

“Angie,” I whispered to the doll, who was playing distractedly, fortunately oblivious to the excitement of my body. “G-Go call (Y/N), will you?”

“What for?” the puppet questioned.

“Just do it,” I said in a soft tone, stimulating my body discreetly, enjoying the touch of my own hands motivated by my dark thoughts.

“Oh, again…” the doll sighed, stopping just before leaving through the doors. “Wait, (Y/N) isn't here…”

“What? She's not here? Where is she?” I asked nervously.

“Look at the clock, silly Donna, (Y/N) has gone to mass,” Angie said, making me look at the same place, closing my eye when I realized she was right.

Again, Miranda stood between you and me, preventing me from taking you as I would like. My thoughts were becoming more and more dangerous.

“Okay, okay, go away, Angie,” I said, waving my hand for her to leave.

“But…”

“Go away…” I hissed, making the doll shrug and leave the workshop grumbling.

Loneliness wasn't so bad after all. My imagination was playing tricks on me, my body was screaming to be released, but not in the usual way. Lust was asking me to dominate you, it was asking me to see you on your knees, to hear you say how much you adored me.

Surely those obscene thoughts would be part of my excitement and it would pass soon. I could think of many ways to fulfill my desire, to make you mine and only mine but… I knew that wasn't possible. I swore to myself that I would never do anything without your permission, that I wouldn't let the darkness ruin an act as beautiful as making love.

Taking advantage of the fact that you were with your Goddess, I decided to take the liberty of freely fantasizing about that idea of being adored, releasing my terribly excited shaft and starting to caress it while your voice whispered things in my mind.

Mm, you are certainly a Goddess, Donna… My only Goddess… Let me worship you as you deserve…

I’m yours, only yours, let me kneel before you, let my mouth worship you, my love…

Do you like me to touch myself for you, my Goddess? Look how wet I am, do I have to pray for you to take me here and now, or do I have to confess my sins? It's so hard… You are divine, Donna…

Those fantasy voices made me want to stop, not to forget that lustful act with myself, but to enjoy it even more.

Before I met you I used to masturbate often. I didn't do it because I really felt like it. I always saw it as an inevitable need. Yes, I enjoyed releasing myself imagining brief encounters with one of the maids, even sometimes, just sometimes, I wanted to pick up the phone, call my sister, and use one of them.

But it was something temporary. My body's need was different from pleasure. No matter how hard I try, I can't remember a stimulation as pleasurable as that.

My hand moved slowly. I closed my eye to see you better, to imagine that it was your hand and not mine. Envy, jealousy... I didn't really care about the reasons for my behavior. I only cared about making it seem as real as possible.

The idea of it being a wet fantasy distracted me, but the pleasure of my stimulation was much greater, making me speed up, enjoying every movement while I moaned in a whisper, saying rude things that, even if you were in front of me, you wouldn't be able to understand.

There came a moment when my own movements got out of control, when the pleasure of imagining you being my devotee devoured the calm with which I caressed myself.

“Cazzo…” I protested, shrinking into myself, quickly looking for a nearby napkin before I released. It was a too pleasurable release.

The napkin shone with my lust and I could only think of one thing… How it would look inside you…

As I cleaned myself in the sink my conscience navigated confusedly. Somehow I thought of you in a dark way, in a sudden way. That wasn't you, you weren't kneeling in front of me, you never would be.

Should I regret having transformed you into someone else while I touched myself? Could it be considered cheating? Have I done something wrong? Did you?

The logic I had left told me I should. The darkness had consumed me. The jealousy had gone too far, but… In a strange way, I couldn’t feel bad about it.

Maybe, deep down, that’s what I wanted.

Of course, I never mentioned what I did. It was just a moment of nervous lust, of possessive madness.

Our life continued as always, even little by little, I got used to the portrait of Miranda you made me look for. Every time I passed by her, I got chills, I thought about what you would do to her if she were there, what things you would be capable of doing for her, for your Goddess.

I wanted to get away from those thoughts, from those dark impulses, but I couldn't do it. Every night, as always, you continued praying, praising your deities, leaving me aside, abandoned during those minutes, those in which I believed I wasn’t the most important thing in your life.

Your prayers slipped through my ears, I stopped understanding them, hearing them. I could only hear the voices in my head. I could only imagine you in front of me, saying my name instead of Miranda's.

The tension passed through my mind, penetrating my body, my words. You knew something was wrong with me, but you didn't dare to ask.

What would you think of me if I told you that I wanted to be your Goddess?

I didn't know and it terrified me but... What really scared me was the loss of that logical thought, the constant imagination that disturbed and dirty my mind. I was scared, but of myself, because, as time went by, I began to stop wondering what you would say, what reaction you would have.

I didn't care anymore, my conscience stopped controlling my dark thoughts and that was dangerous, very dangerous...

“Mm, let's see... I also want to thank you for...” your voice sounded almost inaudible to me, like every night, you prayed tirelessly while I unbuttoned the top of my dress.

At least you no longer forced me to pray with you.

“I want to thank you for granting me the undeserved gift of being able to be with Donna,” you prayed whispering, kneeling in front of the bed.

Those words took me out of my internal struggle against darkness, forcing me to look at you with a tender smile, even though you couldn't see me.

“You saved her, Mother Miranda, making me the happiest girl in the village, allowing me to get to know her, to discover the wonderful woman she is.”

As I continued with the buttons, I laughed shyly, blushing, getting up to be a little closer, sitting next to you and lifting your chin.

“Bellisima…” I whispered affectionately as your eyes opened, the smile had returned to your face, but, delicately, you moved my hand away from it.

“Shh, wait, Donna, I'm not done yet,” you said whispering, as if the Gods or Miranda were able to hear you

I nodded calmly, without getting up, looking at you with the devotion I wanted for myself.

Were you my Goddess?

After you flattered me in your prayers, your words deviated from that pleasant path, starting to pray for the villagers, for my siblings, for every living being that diverted your attention from me.

Normally you didn't take that long, and it started to make me nervous.

Nerves could be controlled in a normal person, but I wasn't a normal person. I was sick, my mind was damaged and there were many reasons why I couldn't control myself. Logical or illogical reasons, my mind made no distinctions.

Your words stopped relaxing me, your voice began to sound unpleasant, my fists grabbed the sheets to contain that rage, that madness with which, surely those stupid Gods, cursed me at birth.

“(Y/N),” I said in a whisper, putting a hand on your shoulder, one that you slowly removed. “Hey, tesoro…”

“Wait a minute, Donna, why are you so impatient?” you said with disgust, moving away from me.

I had been putting up with that contempt for too long.

“Shut up!” I shouted nervously, getting up from the bed with a grunt. “Stop praying!”

“What's wrong with you?” you asked, getting up from the floor and rubbing your knees. “Have you gone crazy?”

“Yes, yes, you're driving me crazy, (Y/N),” I hissed, pointing at her with my finger. “I've tried to ignore it, I really have,” I said, approaching you in a threatening, dangerous way.

“Let's see…” you sighed, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. I hate when you do that, honey, I hate when you take me for a stupid crazy woman. I, am, your Goddess. “What's got into you now?”

“Don't treat me like a fool…” I hissed again, getting even closer, grabbing the collar of her dress roughly. “I'm not a fool…”

“You look like it, Donna, come on, be a good girl, let me go, you're going to spoil my dress,” you said, struggling with my grip.

Your scared eyes are my weakness. I couldn't help but obey you immediately.

“I'm sorry,” I murmured, smoothing your dress again, being able to regret having done it. “No, I'm not sorry.”

“What?” you asked frowning. “Donna…” you growled.

“I'm sick of putting up with this, (Y/N) of you humiliating me like that,” I said, threatening again, but keeping my hands off your clothes.

“No one is humiliating you, Donna, it's all your imagination,” you said in a slightly softer tone, bringing a trembling hand to my cheek. “Shh, darling... My love...”

“How can you say that?” I asked nervously again, pushing your hand away with a sharp blow. “Are you laughing at me? You think that by saying nice things to me you can fix everything, right?”

“I don't even know what's wrong with you,” you sighed desperately, stepping back, scared.

Gods are feared, right?

“If you like Mother Miranda that much... Go ahead, go with her, let her do all the things I do to you, I'm sure that's what you're wishing for,” I whispered, looking away, feeling a cold breeze on my body.

My blouse was unbuttoned, but what I really felt was the coldness of my heart.

“Of course…” you said with a sufficient smile, snorting with a mocking gesture. “Forget about your stupid jealousy. I've told you a thousand times that the devotion I feel for her has nothing to do with what I feel for you.”

“Devotion…” I sighed, looking at the ceiling, controlling my anger and my carnal desires as much as I could. “Devotion?! She doesn't deserve your devotion!”

“Who says that? You?” you answered, apparently calm. “I can't believe you think that way about the woman who made you the way you are now, who named you Lord, her daughter… Donna, don't you understand that I adore Mother Miranda? Don't you understand everything she's done for us? For me?”

“For you? What has Miranda done for you, huh?” I asked in a more dangerous tone, grabbing you by the shoulders with a look that wanted to be scary, but was pathetic.

I was lost.

“I'm the only one who takes care of you! I'm the one who allows you not to work because you live with my money! I'm the one who puts a fucking plate on the table every day! I'm the only one who loves you, who treats you the way you deserve! It's me, (Y/N), do you understand? Me!”

“Donna,” you sighed, moving away from my hold with a strange, thoughtful look. “Honey, you never talk like that…”

“I'm sick of you thinking Miranda is your Goddess… Sick, do you hear me? She has no right to be idolized, to be prayed to! The only one you should be praying to is… Me!” I finally shouted, making my voice echo off the old walls, making an uncomfortable silence fall on our shoulders.

“Donna…” you murmured after a few terrible moments, guiding your hand to my cheek, wiping away a tear that came out due to my anger, due to my irrational fury. “Gods… Y-You’re right…”

“Cosa?” I asked, shaking my head. I thought my ears were betraying me, but that didn’t seem to be true. “W-What…?”

“It's true... You, you've done so many things for me...” you sighed with a relaxed smile, getting closer to me. “Forgive me, Donna, I didn't want you to think that Mother Miranda is better,”

“Um, yes... Okay,” I said confused, looking away, but enjoying your caresses.

The darkness which had me trapped wandered freely through my mind, my eye traveled over your body.

“I promise I'll pray less, okay?” you said with a sweet voice.

My gaze hardened, letting the shadows control it, controlling the hand that grabbed your hair tightly without hurting you, or so I like to think.

“Uh, hey...” you said laughing at my abrupt attitude, at the way my nails dug into your waist as I dragged you towards me.

“I don't want you to pray less, (Y/N),” I whispered, getting close to your ear, sinking my teeth into your skin, pulling your head so your neck was exposed. “I want you to pray… To me…”

“What…? What do you mean?” you asked with a broken tone, nervous because of the tickling of my lips on your skin, because of the strength of my hand tangled in your hair.

My demons sketched a smile on my face and my mind saw that forbidden, repressed dream getting closer and closer.

“On your knees,” I whispered with a cold voice, with a proud, cocky one, typical of the Goddess that I was, of the Goddess that I wanted to be for you. “Get on your knees!” I shouted when your gaze remained confused and your head moved from side to side.

You screamed, but not in an unpleasant way. I helped your body to go down to the desired place, at my feet, on your knees before me, where you had to be.

“Okay…” you sighed, arching your eyebrows, biting your lip.

Did you know what was going to happen? I doubt it.

“Worship me, (Y/N), show me your words are sincere, that I am your only Goddess,” I ordered you, pulling your head so your lips rested on my skin and began to kiss it.

You obeyed like a good girl, without complaint, panting from the impression, but comfortable with the situation. That only made me want you more.

Your kisses were soft, hot but demure, as if you were really kissing something sacred. I enjoyed the vision of having you worshiping me, of being able to feel all the things I imagined every night. It was much more incredible than I thought, much more.

“Pray,” I said softly, with a gentle tug on your hair. I wanted to feel your lips moving on my skin, I wanted to feel the vibrations of your praises on my belly, close, very close to me.

“Great ones…” you began with a nervous voice, not letting your kisses cool my desire, running your tongue over my skin.

“No, not that one, silly,” I said amused, pushing you away from my body. “I want you to pray to me, come on…”

“I don't know any prayers…” you said nervously but with an anxious gleam in your eyes, one that made my evil smile widen.

“Then use your mouth for something useful…” I whispered, bending down to kiss you briefly, to pull your lower lip with desire, but not letting you enjoy it.

Oh, (Y/N) that night wouldn't be for you. That night was only for me.

You nodded, with the look I was looking for so many times while you were praying… My hand went through the black fabric of my skirt, running over the bulge that had already formed on it, caressing it, watching your reaction, how your body trembled when you saw it.

“Do you want it, (Y/N)?” I asked, playing, grabbing my shaft over the fabric, showing you how you made me feel and how I liked being your Goddess…

You nodded again, scratching my legs, letting me see for myself how much that situation excited you.

“Beg me, (Y/N),” I hissed, bringing you closer to my hidden erection, making you feel desperate to reach it, to give me the pleasure I deserved. “Ask me to let you worship me…”

“Please, Donna…” you whispered, kissing me over the dress. Something I didn't ask you for, but I couldn't deny you. The warmth of your lips was all I needed.

“Donna? Wrong, tesoro…” I laughed amused, pulling your hair in reprimand. “I’m your Goddess, (Y/N), don't forget that…”

“M-My Goddess, please let me worship you… Let me…praise you…” you whispered, bringing your mischievous hands to the edge of my skirt.

I moaned in satisfaction, controlling my own desire. That was what I wanted. What do you think, Miranda? She'll never do that to you…

Happy to please you, I released my erection, being quickly caressed by your lips, watched by your eyes, which this time didn't seem to want to close. Your mouth approached slowly, but you knew you couldn't play with me, you shouldn't.

Your tongue ran slowly over my skin, making me moan embarrassingly and your hand joined in the fun when I was completely inside your mouth.

“Così buono…” I gasped, daring to close my eye, to control your head with my hand while your mouth embraced me intensely, while your tongue played with the tip, making my legs tremble.

I didn't want to seem weak, and I scolded you with a tug on your hair. None of that seemed to make you stop.

“You're so perfect, Donna…” you whispered, calling my attention. My hips played on their own, moving to adapt to your kisses, to your playful tongue taking me to the edge. “I've been stupid… You're my only Goddess…”

“Don't forget it, tesoro…” I said calmer, moaning when your movements continued, when your mouth embraced my erection, sucking it slowly while your hand moved it at will.

“She'll never love you like I do, do you understand?” I asked, trying to distract myself, with the darkness coming back to torment me again. “She would never let… Cazzo…”

“I know, my love… I know,” you whispered, tickling my skin, resuming your kisses, trying to keep up with the increasingly frenetic rhythm of my hips.

“Okay, that's enough,” I said suddenly, on the verge of my release.

No, (Y/N), it wasn't going to end there. Your face covered with me wasn't enough at that moment. I needed something else. I needed to possess you forever, to take you by my grace, by the glory of the one who would always be your Goddess. Me, only me.

“You are delicious…” you whispered with a wet moan. “I want to release you, my Goddess, I want to taste you.”

“You ask for too much, tesoro… I'm not a merciful Goddess…” I said amused, lifting you up roughly and pushing you against the bed.

You moaned in surprise at my roughness, but my hands kept you from turning around. You had no right to look at me. I wasn't going to let you do that.

Without waiting for a response or any protest, I lifted your dress and pulled down your underwear while spanking you, making you squirm. That was just what I had imagined.

“Che bagnata sei…” I whispered in your ear, leaning over you as my fingers ran through your wet folds. Your words could lie, but your body couldn’t. It adored me, needed me…

Without the gentleness with which I usually took you, I introduced my erection inside of you. Your walls were overwhelmed at first and your mouth emitted a moan of pain that I ignored.

“So… big…” you murmured with a moan that bathed my ears, that gave me the silent permission I needed to continue, to move without asking and for your tight entrance to hold me tightly, to worship me…

“Everything I do, I do it for you, amore mio… You, just have to… Remember… Who you belong to…” I moaned at the same time as my hips moved carelessly.

“Gods Donna, you, only to you,” you moaned when your body began to move on its own as well, joining the thrusts of my hips.

My hands scratched your skin, marking it as theirs forever. There would never be anyone else in your life, only me. You would pray to me, you would worship me, only I would exist in your life. You would be much more than my maid. You would be mine, forever.

Spilling my seed inside you was much more pleasurable than other times. It was a sign, an explosion of unmatched pleasure, an act of darkness and passion, a fierce desire to be part of you, for you to always have me.

“Oh, Donna…” you said, catching your breath, moving, making the wet mixture of your entrance slide down your legs, becoming the most beautiful vision of my life.

“I don't want to hear you pray to anyone but me, do you understand?”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #oneshot #re8 donna #re8 village #requests

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jennay · 1 year ago

Text

Under The Stars

Request: hi! could i possibly request a best friends to lovers one shot with noah - sort of like, both of them were too scared to say how they felt? i was thinking the reader has been friends with noah and ruffilo since they were teenagers and she now works with the band as a guitar tech or something :') thank you!

Master List

An: I changed the setting where the confessions happen. I hope you love it. It's mushy!

If you want to be tagged in future Noah things let me know 🖤

If you have any requests feel free to send them!

You relaxed in the back of your 'new' truck, a battered old pickup your dad had given you as a hand-me-down. The metal was scratched and dented, and the paint was peeling off in places, but you loved it anyway. Noah and Nick, your two best friends, lay beside you on the soft blankets you had spread over the truck bed.

You felt their warmth and comfort as you gazed at the sky, watching the stars sparkle and fade. The night air was cool and crisp, and you heard the crickets chirping in the distance. You adored nights like this when their company made your teenage years more bearable.

"Look!" Noah exclaimed, pointing to the sky. "Shooting star."

"You have to make a wish!" You say, following the trail of the star with your eyes.

Nick leaned his head on your shoulder, snuggling closer to you. "Yeah, Noah, you saw it first! make the wish!”

You nodded in agreement, "He's right."

Noah smiled brightly and tilted his head to look at the two of you. His eyes were shining with mischief and curiosity. "I wish-" He started to say, but you quickly put your hand over his mouth, stopping him from speaking. "Don't say it out loud or it won't come true!" You warned him, laughing. You felt him mumble something under your hand and wondered what he wished for but didn't ask because you wanted all of Noah's dreams to come true.

The present:

You spring into action the moment you see Jolly turn around and look at the cord of his guitar. Something was wrong.

You had feared the day that this would happen but hoped it would never come. You wished it wasn't today.

Noah was already losing his patience with the crowd that kept brawling through the night, and the amount of technical difficulties that plagued the show made you feel like a lousy worker.

You sprint over to Jolly while Noah once again pauses the concert to lecture the crowd about their behavior. You're almost grateful for the disruption of the crowd. It buys you a few more minutes to figure out a solution to the problem.

You kneel down at the amp, searching for the problem, and you grab the cord, following it back to the guitar that Jolly is holding. His eyes widened, and he searched your face for answers.

You stick your pointer finger up as if telling him one minute, giving him hope that you've got this under control. You stand up, unplug the wire from his guitar, and race over to the chest. Lucky for you, only the cord needed to be replaced. You knew there was probably a bigger issue with Jolly's connection to his guitar, but right now, you couldn't fix that problem in the middle of the show.

You give Jolly a thumbs-up, and he gives a nod, mouthing thank you as you jog off the stage.

You hoped that would hold up until the show was over. You didn't believe in god but were now praying for a better outcome. You didn't want to disappoint the guys; they already had many issues tonight.

You sit on the side of the stage close to Jolly, just in case anything else happens. You were relieved when the band was no longer stopping for technical errors.

After the show, you meet up with guys backstage, giving them high-fives and admiration for their work.

You were so proud of them for all their badassery.

You walk them back to the bus, listening to them talk about the show. You hear Noah talking about the crowd, and he wonders out loud if they're doing something causing the actions. He's frustrated because this isn't the first time but hopes it will be the last.

You all rush into the bus, and Noah flops down on the couch. You sit beside him while the other three prepare to hit the town for the night.

When Ruffilo reappears in front of you, he has a sneaky smile on his face, "You're coming out with us right?" He asks you.

You shake your head and shut your eyes, "I'm really tired and going to pass out on this couch. This is my spot." You joke. "Now go, have fun. Drink for me." You say, waving them off.

As the others leave, you sit up straight, groaning, when you feel Noah's eyes on you. You know he's looking at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes, which always makes your heart skip a beat.

You pretend to be annoyed and turn to face him. "What?" You ask, trying to sound casual.

Noah shrugs. "I have an idea." He stands up, walks to his bunk, and grabs one of the small blankets off his bed. He then hurried over to the small fridge tucked under the cabinet next to you.

"Do you have a sweater?" You shake your head, "What are you up to?"

"Go get one of Nick's sweaters, I saw one on his bunk. It's chilly outside." He grins warmly at you.

You raise an eyebrow, "Are you trying to get me drunk and steal Nick's clothes?"

He chuckles, "Maybe. Is that a problem?"

You roll your eyes, but you can't help but smile. You get up, doing as he says, and snatch the black zip-up hoodie he was referring to.

You walk back to Noah, who gives you the bottle of wine and slings the blanket over his shoulder.

He rummages through the small kitchenette, finding two coffee cups. "Guess this will do." He says with a shrug. "Let's go!"

You playfully roll your eyes, "Can you fill me in on what's happening?" You say, following him out the door.

You feel a cold breeze hit your face, and you shiver, wishing you had a thicker jacket. The sky is dark with glittering stars, and you can't help but stare up at the sky. You've always loved the night sky, the way it makes you feel small and infinite at the same time.

"We're going to go sip some wine and look at the stars, just like the old days. We haven't done that in ages." He says, flashing you a smile.

You feel your heart race again, remembering all the times you spent together under the stars, talking, laughing, dreaming.

He wraps his arm around you and leads you to an area that isn't too far from the bus but feels natural due to the trees surrounding the area. You smell the fresh pine and earthy soil and feel a sense of peace.

Noah lays the blanket down and smooths out any wrinkles. You take off your shoes and step on them, sitting down, "Hurry up. I'm cold and I could really use your body heat right now." You tease.

You don't mind the cold but love the excuse to cuddle with him.

"Is that all I'm good for?" He says, sitting next to you. He lifts his arm and lets you snuggle into his side.

You feel his warmth and his heartbeat, and you sigh contentedly. You breathe in his scent, a mix of sweat, cologne, and something uniquely him. You feel his lips press against your hair, and you smile.

"Hand me the wine."

You reach beside you and grab the bottle, handing it to Noah. You hear the top pop off, and he begins pouring the wine into the coffee cups. You take a sip, and your face scrunches at the bitter taste, pulling away from Noah. You give him a look of disgust, and Noah laughs at your reaction.

"Who drinks this shit?" You take another drink, hoping your taste buds will become more accustomed to the taste.

You don't care about the wine; you just want to spend quality time with him, away from the tour's chaos and stress.

You lean back on your hands, gazing at Noah with admiration. He's too busy pouring more wine; you watch the red liquid flow like blood.

At this moment, you're convinced something else is going on with him. He seemed nervous and fidgety, his eyes darting like a trapped animal.

You break the short silence by leaning forward and reaching out to touch his hair. Your fingers linger at his neck as you say, "I like your hair when it gets longer." You admit while stroking the wild strands.

Noah smiles down at you, his brown irises soft and kind, "Why do you think I haven't cut it again?" He asks with a nervous laugh.

You feel your cheeks heat up, and you look away. "You're growing it out for me?" You say, half-joking, half-hoping.

"Yes, I am." He says, his voice serious. "Because I want you to find me attractive." The words slip out of his mouth, and he freezes. His eyes widen, shocked by his own words.

Noah had only ever told Nick about his secret, and he always told him it was a crush that would fade over time. He practically begged Noah not to tell you. Nick feared it would ruin your friendships and didn't want to be the middleman if something happened.

"You what?" You say, stunned.

He exhales, biting his lip. "You know what I wished for all those years ago when we were kids in the back of your truck with Nick?" He looks at you, his expression hopeful and nervous. He gently grabs your hand in his.

You feel nervous at his touch. Noah didn't act this way, not around you. "You're not supposed to tell me your wishes." You smile weakly.

"I have to." He says desperately. "I've tried not saying anything and it still didn't come true." He lifts your chin, making you look into his eyes. He wants you to hear him loud and clear. " I wished for you to fall in love with me, to look at me the way you look at the stars."

You feel excitement in your chest, and want him to know you've wished for the same thing. You wrap your arms around his neck, and whisper in his ear. “You don’t have to wish anymore. I love you too.”

He smiles widely, and pulls you closer to him, his hands cup your face as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. You feel his warm breath on your skin, and his tongue gently teasing your mouth. You hear his soft moan, and his heartbeat pounding in sync with yours.

You pull back, gasping for air, and look into his eyes. You see the same spark that ignited your kiss, the same desire that matched yours.

You smile and whisper, “I'll gladly make your wish come true.”

Tags: Tags: @thisbicc @yumikitten @lma1986 @chemicallady @niicoleleigh

#noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian oneshot #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic

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theshypinkflower · 2 months ago

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🎃 Kinktober ~ Religion/Dacryphilia

🖤 Rire (Day 5)

Dub con? Non con? Some sort of con, tendrils, nsfw, mentions of God, crying, canon typical ending (IM SO SORRY IM LIKE TWO DAYS LATE TO THIS I JUST DIDNT KNOW HOW TI WRITE THIS IM SO SORRY IM WRITING DAY 6 AND DAY 7 RN)

You sobbed as you kneeled before the altar of the church. Just why did all of this suddenly happen? Your life felt like it was just spiraling downwards to where you were now.

You were a loyal subject of the church you went to. Always praying, always giving God your unwavering faith, but where was he now? Your dog was put down, you lost your job, and your partner broke up with you. You had no one and it was starting to take a toll on you.

You clasped your hands tightly, praying with teary eyes. You’ve been at this for hours, praying god would give you a sign that he was listening. But you knew the chances were your fries fell on deaf ears. Your knees ached from sitting on them for so long. You questioned if it was even worth it. Perhaps you should head home, head home and cry more so God might answer you.

“Awwww, what’s got you down?” Suddenly asked a rather deep voice behind you. You immediately perked up and turned around to see a tall man dressed in all black. The most odd part about him wasn’t how he wore dark sunglasses indoors, but how you didn’t hear him walk in.

You wiped your tears, “Just….stuff,” you softly said. He gave a charming smile, “Aww, are you worried God will never hanswer you?” He asked. “Well, sorta,” you replied and went from sitting on your knees to sitting on your butt. “You know, I know a way to fix your little problems.”

You raised a brow in skepticism, “Look, whatever you sell I don’t want,” you said before standing up. He pouted jokingly, “Oh it’s nothing that you can buy, instead it’s more of…companionship.” Despite it being against your religion to just sleep with people, you pondered his words. Let's be real, all thought of God was out the door the minute your dog died, but now it was out the door and on the curb.

You sighed, you really could use some companionship, whether it was inherently sexual or not. You just didn't wanna spend another night alone in that house. “Sure, why the hell not,” you finally said. The walk back to your apartment wasn't far, no more than ten minutes.

As you led Rire to your apartment, he grew to be quite the conversationalist. He was even kinda..funny. It felt odd to laugh for the first time in a while, but it was needed. You felt so much better finally getting to laugh with someone. It wasn't until you got closer to your apartment he started getting more…flirty.

Stepping into the dark apartment, the two of you were getting handsy and suggestive. You led him to the couch, gently making out with him as his cold hands ran under your shirt. Despite him being oddly cold, it felt comforting to be touched. You laughed as you looked at him, “Cmon, take those stupid things off,” you playfully said and reached to remove his sunglasses.

“I don't think you wanna do that…” Rire said with a much more serious tone. “Oh cmon, got bad eyes or something?” You joked and removed his sunglasses to only gasp in horror. His eyes glowed an unnatural color with two cat-like pupils. At first you thought it was just contacts, but contacts don't glow. “W-what the hell?!” You stammered.

Rire sighed as tendrils suddenly held you in place. “My, you humans can't keep your curiosity in check,” he chuckled darkly as he watched you writhe against his tendrils. “Oh God- HEL-” you tried to scream before a tendri abruptly covered your mouth. “Oh you stupid thing, your God is dead, I'm your new god now,” Rire said with a malicious grin, showing off those sharp teeth.

Tendrils began to slip under your clothes. It seemed impossible that such things were tracing your body. The tendrils invaded your holes, stretching out the walls of your throat and nether region to a painful degree. Tears pricked in your eyes, this had to be God's punishment for turning your back on him.

You gagged loudly at the tendril in your mouth, it wasn't just face fucking, it was more like throat fucking. It was hard to breathe, but you knew you had to stay strong if you didn't want this…demon..slenderman…whatever he was, to kill you.

“My, you're awfully resilient!” Rire said while palming himself through his pants. “But you're not strong enough to withstand me,” he taunted. Your eyes widened as another tendril invaded your ass. You squeezed your eyes shut to try and ignore the painful stretch, but it was too much.

You sobbed, the tendril in your mouth muffling you. “Awwww, there's those pretty tears,” Rire said, his voice smooth as honey. He licked up your tears, savoring the salty taste on his tongue. His tendrils began abusing your sweet spot, making more tears flow out, not from pain, but from overstimulation. You tried saying something, but Rire couldn't understand you, so he removed the tendril from your mouth with a sickening pop.

“What was that? I didn't understand you,” he teased with that wicked grin of his. “PLEASE! M-make it stop!” You cried out as his tendrils punched into you over and over. “Oh? You want me to stop?” He asked, repeating your words.

“Don't worry, I'll gladly make it stop…”

#btd #boyfriend to death #fanfic #ao3 repost #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #kinktober #lucien rire #btd rire #rire #IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG RAAAAAH

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little-tyrant-gortash · 10 months ago

Text

Oathbreaker

Pairing: fem!Tav x Enver Gortash, fem!Tav/Astarion

Tags: Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Paladin Tav (Baldur's Gate), Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Drunk Sex, Unrequited Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Scars, Blood and Injury, Injury, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Torture, Psychological Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture

Word count: 2,359

Ao3 here.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7.

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9.

Chapter 10.

Chapter 11.

Chapter 12.

Chapter 13.

Chapter 14.

Chapter 15.

Chapter 16.

Chapter 17.

Chapter 18.

Chapter 19.

Chapter 20.

Chapter 21.

Chapter 22.

Chapter 23. ⬇

Chapter 24.

Notes: Happy reading. 😌🖤

Chapter 23: A Warning

There were several places he had to visit from time to time. One of those places were hidden even deeper underground than the others.

He didn't feel anything in particular as he was walking down the usual path. The corridors were dark, decorated with black marble and faces of a long-tongued figure, and he enjoyed the way it enveloped him. In the dark, he found peace. In the dark, he found his home.

Upon entering the main hall, he noticed all the others; sharing his faith, looking for guidance, following his lead. But there was something different, tonight. The few torches that were lit allowed him to see that just in front of the altar, one of them stood with something in their hands. They were all dressed in simple black robes, and they all had their masks on. They knew each other here better than on the surface.

He made his way over to the altar and held his hand out for the other to hand him the implement, but the man regarded him with a pair of steeled eyes and did not move.

"Turn around and kneel", he said simply. The newcomer hesitated. "Can you take simple instructions, Chosen? Or is it beneath you to obey to Bane's words?"

The Chosen's brows twitched, just for a moment, before he took a step back. The circle closed around them, leaving no room for him to navigate far, let alone escape. He was trapped.

"You've been indulging in pleasures of the flesh for long enough", the man holding the black whip spoke again, "our God decided it was time to remind you that only He owns your flesh. This is a warning. Turn around and kneel."

He knew he had no choice but to comply. He knew the whip had nine tails, and that each tongue had small steel studs woven into them. He had to use it on others in the past; and it had been used on him as well, before he became Chosen. Fearless as ever, he obeyed. Baring his back for the whip shortly after.

Each lash bit deep into his flesh. The pain was indescribable, it dug deep into his body, right down to his very bones, bruising, tearing skin and muscles. But he did not scream, he did not beg.

He prayed and thanked and took every hit with as much dignity as possible. Even as tears prickled his eyes, even as his voice broke from the effort to keep himself contained. Even as he was shaking as his blood rolled down his back and formed a small pool under him.

And the hits just kept coming until he passed out.

He woke up in his chambers much, much later, alone, laid down on his stomach. His wounds were untreated, and they throbbed with so much pain he nearly fainted again. Pushing himself up to sit, he noticed that there was a note on his nightstand.

Urge her to kill Bhaal's Chosen, so you can take control over the Elder Brain.

If she fails to do so until the next new moon, she will be sacrificed to Bane.

In the past two days, she was following up on the clue Astarion told her about.

Trying to find Orin was impossible at the moment, but she wanted to see if Astarion was right... just to prove him wrong.

It did not go down well.

The very few people who were collecting the toys for the children of the refugees turned out to be a part of a much bigger plot. Gortash had been spreading the propaganda that nothing bad could happen under his watch, but Tav found out that he must have been the mastermind behind the literal bombs in the toys. After slaughtering a handful of Banites underground, it underlined that the Chosen of Bane had to know about this.

Oathbreaker or not, this went too far. Every time she glanced at the ring around her finger, she felt sick of herself. Sick of him. Sick of it all. She constantly felt nauseous, and she couldn't keep down anything solid from the stress. Every time she ate something, it came right back up.

No. This wouldn't do. She was naive and stupid for letting him so close, for letting her heart fall so much for him.

She had to end this, once and for all.

She found him in their usual meeting place, and he was waiting for her with her favourite meal already prepared. Tav ignored the stirring within. She didn't smile when he greeted her. Taking the seat opposite of him, she left the food untouched. It'd be best; she'd throw it back up anyway.

"I'll tell you a story. Do me a favour and don't interrupt me. In fact, I'd like you to stay silent until I'm done."

Gortash furrowed his brows slightly. Something was definitely off, but he couldn't put a finger on what. He could sense the rage that came from her direction, wave after wave, but he couldn't decide if it was directed at him or at something else.

"Alright", he replied at last, taking his goblet in his hand as he leaned back in his chair. "You have my full attention."

Tav observed him for a moment. She had been thinking about telling the entire story to him in a letter, but she thought she owed him a proper audience. Still, her face remained serious as she began to speak.

"A long time ago, there was a newborn. This newborn was abandoned in the middle of the woods." Her throat tightened. She'd never told this story to anyone before. "Perhaps she was not wanted… maybe her mother thought that she wouldn't be able to feed the child, and she thought it'd be best if she left the baby to the gods. Perhaps her mother died in childbirth, and her father was furious at her for that, and decided that if he couldn't have his wife with the child, he wouldn't want to have the child for himself, either. The newborn was wrapped in a blanket, but she was left unfed, uncleaned, and she was wailing at the top of her lungs. Even though spring was on it's way, during the night, it was so cold that around her, there was frost on the ground. Her chances for survival were slight.

Luckily for her, two Selûnites decided to collect firewood for their abode nearby that night. They've heard the cries of the baby and decided to take her in. They bathed and fed and healed the child and decided to raise her themselves. They were both faithful followers of Selûne; two women who were in love with each other, both Clerics. They loved her and she loved them.

Thirteen winters after, the baby grew up to be a follower of Selûne as well. She'd passed the trials and her mothers were proud of her. In her thirteenth year, though, at winter, one of her mothers got very ill, and she passed away. The other mother sought the help of an old and dear friend, another Selûnite, because she knew they wouldn't be able to survive the winter without the help of another. This man lived with them for over a year.

It started with little things, at first. The girl was fourteen at the first incident. A touch to the lower back. A caress on her face. Lingering looks and bolder, more intimate physical contact. She didn't know what to do at first; he was a Selûnite, and in Selûne's doctrine Selûnites help and nurture each other. Perhaps he thought that was what he did. But it definitely didn't feel right, so she told her mother about it, and when her mother learned of this, she was furious.

The verbal fight went on for half an hour, but the physical fight was short lived. He was much stronger than her, she stood no chance. He knew who was responsible for the woman to turn against him, so he grabbed his belt and taught the girl a lesson she'd never forget: never trust anyone."

Tav paused. Gortash remained silent just as she asked, but the way his eyes darkened with the story told her more than anything else. She knew if he could he would've avenged her pains. Her hopelessness. And it made everything so much worse.

"He didn't stop there", she whispered now, and tears gathered in her eyes. "He took everything from her. Everything. Her hopes, her future… her innocence." She saw how Gortash's free hand balled up into a fist. "Just because he could. Just because he had power over a weaker person. But that couldn't break her, not yet. No, he had done one last thing that was too much for her to bear.

It did not take long for either of them to notice that the girl conceived from him. He ordered her to get rid of the child, but she didn't want to do it. Even if the circumstances weren't the greatest, for some reason, she wanted to have it. She wanted to give her own child a chance, a better chance than what she got at the beginning of her life. But he was having none of that. He decided that if she didn't want to take care of it herself, he would. And he did. By beating her until she lost it."

Tav had to stop again. She picked up her goblet and glanced in it, but as soon as she saw that it was wine, she put it back down with a grimace.

"When she recovered, something changed. If she learned anything from that, it was that she didn't want to be there anymore. So the next time he was sleeping soundly beside her… she slit his throat and watched him bleed out. On that day, she swore to herself that she would avenge every soul lost to cruelty, that she would hunt down monsters like that man, no matter if they hid behind a goddess like Selûne. She'd spent every day trying to right wrongs, focusing on protecting those who had done nothing wrong: children. Because, despite her prayers that remained unanswered by Selûne, despite her cycles returning the way they were after she lost her first born – she couldn't conceive again. And if she couldn't have children of her own, she'd try to protect those who were already born. To give them the chance of life she was never given by her own parents."

Tav slammed the goblet down on the table, splashing the wine around it as if it was spilled blood, and stood up, grabbing her bag as she did so.

"Which is why", she continued harshly, her fury returning full force, "I'm ending everything we have between us right now."

She tossed a plush bear between them on the table and watched Gortash's reaction. At first, there was no recognition in his eyes; he'd let her know nothing other than confusion. But then, she detected it: the realisation that came like dawn after the darkest night. And that was proof enough for her. Proof, which broke her heart.

"I'll never come to visit you again. Whatever we had, this- this relationship, is over. I could look past whatever I've found at Moonrise Towers. The toys. The children's letters. Because I thought they've been taken by illithids just like I was. I thought that was a mistake. I could look past your allies taking Mol, a tiefling child; because it might've been on someone else's order, not yours, despite the fact I've found her eyepatch on the same table where you visibly worked on at some point. I tried to overlook it. I really did. I could blame it on Baltahazar and the other True Souls. But I know now that I haven't only abandoned my Oath of Vengeance when I became your ally; I abandoned myself as well. I've taken a part in harming those I swore to protect. You were planning to kill the children of the refugees, and I'll never forgive that. I'll never forgive you. I despise you, and I never want to see you again."

It was hard for him to reply to all of this. Tav yanked the ring off her middle finger and dropped it on the table. He was still staring at the toy as she swung the bag over her shoulder and started to walk away.

He did not stop her – his throat was as tight as a drum, there was no way he could speak. Every accusation was true; he'd let others scheme and orchastrate that attack, he'd turned a blind eye to it, because he could've cared less about those who were outside his city. It could fit in his Accelerated Grand Design. There was no victory without sacrifice, every conqueror knew that.

Then why did it feel so wrong right now?

He picked up the plush and moved it in front of him, fighting with the emotions that bubbled up within him. He should've lied. Should've said at least something. But he couldn't, and now, he lost her. If she did not bring Orin down by the time new moon rolled around, she'd be Bane's. His little light in the darkness. His glimmer of hope. She was everything that made it worth it all; she was the reason he could get up in the morning, she was the reason he was looking forward to the end of the day so he'd see her. Because despite he had been chastised and warned, he still needed her.

And she'd rendered everything he was doing meaningless in just a few minutes, because without her, his empire he fought so hard for would mean nothing to him at this point. He fell and he failed, too fast, too hard.

The meeting room turned dark as dusk fell. He did not move to light the candles, he just let the darkness consume him.

And the darkness gave no comfort as it did a few days ago – because he knew now he wouldn't hold her in his arms again.

#Oathbreaker #little tyrant [enver gortash]#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg 3 #enver gortash #archduke enver gortash #lord enver gortash #fanfic #Oathbreaker fanfic

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