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candycandy00 · 2 days ago

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As Heaven is Wide - A Doflamingo x Reader x Corazon Fanfic Part 4 (Final)

In a world where Doflamingo and Rosinante were raised by Celestial Dragons after their parents died in an accident, they grow up to be notorious world nobles in their own right. And then they buy you at the Human Auction. Now trapped between two very different brothers, you’re shared like a toy. Maybe they’re not so different after all.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

This chapter is very intense! Please read the warnings!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Heavy Dubcon! Dead Dove Do Not Eat! Master/Slave Dynamics. Violence. Manipulation. Squirting. Size Difference. Humiliation. Bondage. Forced Piercings. Blood. Captivity. Drug/Aphrodisiac Use. Pain. Reader is described as little but only by ten foot tall men. This is a brutal, dark fanfic! You’ve been warned!

Any comments/feedback is greatly appreciated! Title comes from a song by Garbage (which really fits the mood of this fic I recommend it!). Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear!

You’re sitting in one of the unused bedrooms in the Donquixote manor, your hands cuffed behind your back. It’s been nearly an hour since you were brought here by two guards who refused to tell you where Rosi is.

There’s a window to your right, the curtains drawn back to reveal the darkness of night. This was supposed to be a very different evening. You and Rosi should have already landed on a small nearby island and bought a bigger ship by now. You should be holding hands while buying supplies and planning your new lives together, even if you felt strangely guilty about leaving Doffy behind.

A guard opens the door and roughly pulls you out of the room. You don’t bother asking any questions, you’ve already learned that these men have nothing to say to you.

He leads you down the familiar hallway and to the door of Doflamingo’s bedroom. You were expecting a dungeon, but you’re not entirely surprised.

Doffy will surely kill you now. You just hope it’s quick. You worry about Rosi though, about whether he’ll be killed as well or just imprisoned here for the rest of his life, doomed to be tormented by his brother.

The door opens and you’re shoved inside, nearly falling before regaining your balance. Funny how much you’re thrown off by having your arms behind your back.

Doflamingo is standing in the middle of the room, at the foot of his massive bed. His feathered coat and red suit jacket are gone, leaving red pants and a black dress shirt unbuttoned. In the chair nearby, Rosi is sitting, not restrained but looking pale and slightly dazed. His eyes meet yours, and he stands up.

“Are you alright?!” he asks, rushing over to you.

“I’m fine. What about you?”

He leans in close and says in a hurried whisper, “I’m so sorry! He forced me to take the drug again! He’s got something terrible planned!”

“Rosi, sit down,” Doflamingo says, and Rosi hesitantly obeys. Then the older brother approaches you. “Do you have any idea how angry you’ve made me?”

You shake your head. “We just wanted to be free,” you say, trying to edge back away from him.

He grabs your arm near the shoulder and pulls you closer to him. “You belong to me. Both of you do,” he says then drags you over to the bed. He positions himself in a sitting position, his back against the headboard, and pulls you into his lap, your back against his chest.

With his bare hands, he rips your dress open, all the way down the front, leaving you completely exposed. You cry out at the sudden motion.

“Stop it, Doffy!” Rosi yells. “You don’t realize what you’re doing! She didn’t even want to leave. I had to talk her into it!”

Doffy’s hands are groping your breasts harshly. “And why should that matter to me?”

Rosi looks from you to his brother. “Because she has feelings for you. I noticed, and it scared me, so I rushed the escape plan. She actually cares about you! About both of us! She might be the only human in the world who does!”

Doffy pauses and moves one hand to your chin, turning your face so that he can see your eyes. “Is that true? Do you have feelings for me?”

You wish you could see his eyes, to get some kind of read on what he’s thinking. Instead you only see your terrified face reflected back from his sunglasses. After a moment, you nod. “I do.”

Even you don’t understand why. The heart is a mysterious thing you suppose.

Doffy grins in that terrible way that spells imminent danger. “I’m touched,” he says in a clearly sarcastic tone. “So touched that I’ve decided to show mercy.”

You stare back at him in disbelief. He’s not going to kill you?

He must notice the confusion in your eyes, because he laughs and adds, “I still have to punish you though.”

With that, he reaches one long arm over to the nightstand and retrieves a little wooden box. He sits it on the bed beside you and opens it to reveal a set of what appears to be small golden hoop earrings. Oddly, there are three instead of two, and each of them has a very sharp, pointed end.

Is he… going to pierce your ears? For what purpose?

“I’m feeling so merciful tonight that I’m giving you gifts,” he says, grinning widely. “Even lowly human women like jewelry, right?”

You glance over at Rosinante, who looks just as confused as you are, but it might be because the drug is taking effect. His eyes are glazed over, his face reddening.

Suddenly Doffy’s left hand moves around you to your right breast, giving it a squeeze before his fingers hold your nipple in a firm grip. He’s behind you, but he’s so tall he can easily loom over you and see what he’s doing as he pulls one of the small golden rings from the box.

“Don’t worry, I already had these sanitized. We don’t want our cute toy to get an infection.”

You realize with horror what he intends to do, and instinctively try to squirm out of his grasp. With your hands cuffed behind you and his arms around your body, that’s an impossible task.

His right hand edges closer to you, the sharp point gleaming. You whimper, only getting the chance to say, “W-wait!” before you feel the cold metal pierce through your tender nipple.

You scream, your body jerking in agony as Rosi jumps up from his chair and rushes over.

“Doffy what the fuck?!” he yells, panicking as he tries to decide what to do to help you, seeming afraid to actually touch you. “You said you’d show mercy!”

Doflamingo still has one arm snaked around you, holding you in place. “This is mercy,” he tells Rosinante. His hand slides up to your throat and rests there. “It would be so easy to snap her neck. It would take no effort at all for me to rip her arms right off her body. I’ve killed countless slaves just for mildly annoying me. And she betrayed me. Her brains should be caked on the bottom of my shoes right now.”

Tears have already filled your eyes. You look down and see the ring, the tiny trickle of blood dripping from it, and nearly faint. You look back at Doflamingo. “I’m sorry,” you say, desperate to make all this stop. “I’m sorry we left…”

His face turns toward yours. “I know you are,” he says in a fake soothing voice. “That’s why I decided to give you a less permanent punishment.”

What he’s saying makes sense, in some terrible way. You expected to die for trying to escape, and your own guilt for leaving him behind is eating at your frazzled mind. You watched him crush a slave’s skull for dropping his coat. The fact that he’s not killing you for your crimes is an absolute shock.

You collapse back against his chest. “Just do it,” you say weakly.

Rosi looks horrified. “No! This is insane! If anyone deserves to be punished, it’s me!”

Doffy laughs then, loud and clear, the sound filling the room like a cloud. You feel it rumbling in his chest at your back. “Rosi, this is your punishment!”

With that, he quickly grips your left nipple while grabbing a second ring, then plunges the sharp end through your flesh before anyone else can react.

You scream again, your body going rigid in Doffy’s lap for a moment before falling limp. The pain is blinding, burning, and you’re completely helpless against it. Your mind feels foggy, your vision hazy. You turn your head to look up at him, your face streaked with tears, your hair messy. “I’m sorry, Doffy… I promise I’ll never leave you alone again…”

What are you even saying? You barely understand the words yourself. You should hate him more than ever, but your heart is breaking and you don’t even know why.

Doffy doesn’t reply, but instead looks at Rosi and holds out the box. “I saved one for you.”

Rosi’s eyes are wet and wide. “What? Where would I even…” His voice trails off as a look of pure horror spreads over his face. “No… you’ve gone mad, Doffy!”

You hear what they’re saying but your mind is so broken at the moment that you don’t comprehend what’s happening. Doffy pulls your legs apart, then slips one hand down to peel back the folds of your pussy. “Right here. Go ahead and put it in.”

That’s when you realize where the third ring is going. You snap to sudden awareness, trying vainly to get away, but just as before, Doffy has you in a vice grip.

Rosi drops the box onto the bed. “I’m not doing this. She’s too sensitive there… it’s too cruel! You’ve done some sick things in the past but this is fucked up even for you!”

One of Doffy’s fingers lightly strokes your clit, making you shudder. “Rosi,” he says in that frighteningly calm tone he uses when angry, “if you don’t do it, I’ll rip out all her pretty little organs and decorate your room with them.”

You look up at Rosinante, trying to focus on his face. “It’s okay, Rosi. Just do it. Just finish this, please.”

Rosi stares at you, then at his brother. “I’ll never forgive you for this, Doffy,” he says before taking the final golden ring from the box. He sits on the bed, turning toward you, then very carefully holds your clit between his thumb and finger. “I’m sorry,” he says to you.

“I know,” you tell him, fresh tears in your eyes.

With Doffy watching, grin on his face, Rosi brings the point close. His eyes flick from the ring to your face, then back again. He takes a deep breath, then pushes the sharp edge into your tiny clit.

Either because he was so hesitant, or because he’s trying to be careful, he’s much slower than Doffy was, ironically making the pain a thousand times worse.

You scream louder than ever before, unable to bear the agony coursing through you, your legs kicking out wildly until Doffy holds them down. Rosi hurries to fasten the ring, then looks at his own handiwork.

He’s panting, his eyes wild. You hear Doffy say, “Looks like the drug is really hitting you now!” before you black out.

You don’t know how long you’re out, but when you wake up, you’re still in Doflamingo’s lap, in his bed, your arms still bound behind you. The first thing you feel is pain. The piercings are sore now, not at all helped by Doffy’s fingers playing with your tits.

As you become more awake and aware, you feel another sensation. You look down to find Rosi gently licking your freshly pierced clit. Your body shivers, wracked by a powerful combination of pleasure and pain.

When Rosi looks up, his eyes are completely dazed from the drug, his tongue softly prodding at the ring as his fingers slide in and out of your drenched pussy.

His drug addled brain probably thinks he’s soothing you, but this much stimulation is quickly overwhelming your senses. You’re going to cum soon, and your body is twitching as evidence. But before you can climax, Doffy’s hand moves to your face and turns it toward him.

Oh. His sunglasses are gone. A pair of deep red eyes are staring at you as Doffy’s mouth closes over yours, kissing you passionately. He never kisses slaves, but his tongue is in your mouth, exploring, tasting, as the fingers teasing your nipple rings become gentle.

Rosi is still devouring your pussy, his tongue slipping through the gold hoop and very lightly pulling on it, making both pain and pleasure shoot through you. Your whole body is shaking, the two brothers easily pushing you over the edge. You moan into Doffy’s mouth as you cum, squirting all over Rosi’s face as he laps it up.

After it’s over, the brothers uncuff you. Rosi takes off his own shirt and covers you with it, then picks you up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Doffy asks, straightening his clothes.

“To my room,” Rosi says, as if it’s obvious.

Doffy puts his sunglasses back on. “No. You haven’t been punished nearly enough for the shit you tried to pull. Both of you will be confined to the holding cell until I decide to let you out.”

Rosi frowns. “You can’t do that to me, I’m-“

“You’re my brother, and you’re on thin ice,” Doffy says darkly. “But don’t worry, the two of you will enjoy yourselves. All your food and water will be spiked with the drug. Fuck each other until your brains are mush.”

Rosi starts to say something, but four guards appear at the door, waiting to escort you both. He glares at them. “None of you fucking touch her,” he says. The guards look uneasy, probably because they’re caught between obeying two different Celestial Dragons. They eventually nod, allowing Rosi to carry you down the hall. They lead the two of you down a set of stairs and down another hallway, in what appears to be an underground dungeon.

You can see several “cells”, all with bars across the front. Each room has a small shower, sink, and toilet. You feel your gut twist when you realize anyone who walks through this area will see everything you do. Maybe you can get Rosi to stand in front of you to block their view.

Though… if you’re both taking the drug, neither of you will probably care who sees.

Each cell also has a small, fold away bed and a single wooden chair. It certainly doesn’t look comfortable for two people to stay in.

You wonder what these cells are for. Misbehaving slaves? That’s the only answer that makes sense.

Rosi walks into one of them and sits you on the bed. A guard walks in with a folded bundle of linens, including a clean dress for you, then walks back out and locks the gate-like door behind him.

Once the guards have left, and the whole area is empty aside from the two of you, Rosi helps you pull the dress on before you fall asleep on the bed. You’re too exhausted to be worried.

The next several days pass by in a blur, time losing all meaning after you both gave in to thirst on the third day. With both of you affected by the drug, you crave each other constantly. Rosi fucks you on the small bed, against the bars, in the shower, bent over the tiny sink, and even in the chair. You ride him like he’s a wild beast, cumming so many times that you pass out nearly every day.

At some point Doflamingo appears on the other side of the bars. You have no idea how long he was there before you noticed him, because you’re currently preoccupied.

Rosi is sitting on the floor of the cell, his back against the wall. You’re on your hands and knees in front of him, nestled between his spread thighs, deep throating his cock.

When you notice Doffy, you pause and pull away. Your mind isn’t working properly. You should be screaming curses at the monster on the other side of your cage, but instead you smile at him and extend your hand, beckoning him.

“Doffy! I missed you! Come here!”

For a moment, he doesn’t move or speak, then he opens the barred door and walks inside. He loosens his tie as he makes his way across the cell, stopping briefly at the small shelf where your supply of bottled water sits. He grabs a bottle, snaps off the lid, and takes a long drink.

Did he just willingly drug himself?

He unbuttons his shirt and pulls off his sunglasses, his every move seeming sensual to your eyes. He grins as he drops down to his knees behind you, finally descending into your dirty world with you. He turns you around with ease, so that you’re on your back, the cold stone floor against your bare skin. He opens his pants, pushes your legs apart, and begins fucking you right there in the cell.

Ah, you really did miss him! You missed the way he shoves all the way in with each thrust, the way he turns you into a toy for his satisfaction.

Rosi shifts positions so that he’s sitting beside your head, his fully erect cock still waiting for your attention. You turn your head to the side and take him back into your mouth, messily smearing around saliva and precum. Rosi’s hand lovingly strokes your hair while Doffy’s fingers play with your clit piercing. It feels so incredibly good to be stuffed full by their enormous cocks, your legs are trembling already.

You pull away from Rosi once more, looking at each of the brothers in turn. Then you smile sweetly at them and say, “I love you!”

They both stare at you for a moment, then glance at each other.

Rosi’s voice is soft when he asks, “Which one of us do you love?”

You giggle at that. “Both of you!” Then you wrap your lips around Rosi’s shaft again.

Doffy laughs loudly, and you can see that his red eyes have taken on a hazy look. The drug is hitting him now. He gives your clit ring a small tug, making you whimper around Rosi’s cock. “You belong to us,” he says in that deep voice of his, fucking you even harder now. “I’ll never let you go!”

In your drug induced euphoria, his words sound like a twisted love confession. The sheer joy of hearing it makes you climax, your body convulsing with pleasure, your pussy clenching Doffy while your throat constricts around Rosi.

They both watch you come undone, and moments later, they both cum as well, filling your waiting holes.

*****

A month later, you’re sitting on the couch in Doffy’s office, Rosi beside you. Doffy is yelling at a slave who misplaced some paperwork. He suddenly reaches out and grabs the woman’s neck, prompting you to stand up.

“Doffy,” you say, drawing his attention, “you promised.”

He sighs and releases the woman, who drops to the floor, gasping and sputtering. He looks down at her and says, “Get out of my sight.”

She scurries out of the room, then Doffy walks over and closes the door behind her. He promised you he’d stop killing slaves, and so far he’s kept that promise. You hope someday you can convince him to free them, but for now… baby steps.

He returns to the couch and sits down, then takes hold of your wrist and pulls you onto the couch beside him, right between the two brothers.

“If you were any other human, I’d kill you in the most gruesome way possible for undermining me in front of a slave,” he says, his hand slowly pulling up the lacy ruffled layers of your dress.

Rosi scoots closer, his own hand pulling your right knee away from your left. “Like I’d let you do that,” he says to his brother.

Doffy laughs, his hand slipping into the front of your panties. “She gets turned on when I say things like that. She’s already wet.”

“Really?” Rosi asks, his hand joining Doffy’s. Two sets of fingers are between your thighs, one of them opening your folds while the other begins stroking your clit around the ring. You don’t know whose fingers are doing what, but you moan as you lean back against the couch.

“So, who’s room are staying in tonight?” Rosi asks you, a warm smile on his face.

Doffy scoffs. “Of course she’s staying in mine. You’re welcome to watch from the chair, Rosi. Or you can just listen to her screams from your room.”

Rosi frowns. “I think she prefers my room. She loves taking control, riding me until she cums as many times as she likes.”

Two fingers lightly pinch your overly sensitive clit while another pulls at the ring. You shudder as you look from one brother to the other. Do you choose Rosi’s gentle lovemaking that makes you feel worshipped and adored? Or Doffy’s rough and harsh fucking that leaves you unable to walk the next day?

“Can’t I have both?” you ask in your sweetest voice.

They look at each other, then both grin. Doffy uses his free hand to turn your face toward him. He kisses you deeply before saying, “Such a greedy little human, wanting two Celestial Dragons all to herself!”

Rosi kisses you next, his lips warm and soft on yours. “We can share you again tonight, since you asked so nicely.”

And so your life as the toy of two monstrous brothers continues. You lost your freedom the day they bought you at the auction, but you’re not too upset about that anymore. After all, you have two new toys of your own.

Tag List : @miruto @sharkuu

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christskitten · 6 hours ago

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♱ tw!,,smut,extreme dub-con,descriptions of blood,religious trauma,dacryphilia,unprotected p in v,voyeurism,corruption kink,virginity loss,manipulation,period sex,MDNI

♱ A/N.Hello y'all this is my first ever one-shot ever and i hope you guys can enjoy !

♱ Remmick with Nun!Reader♱

♱ Brief description.Sister Y/N has lit the last candle in the chapel, the flame flickering like the unrest in her chest. Night had fallen, and silence cloaked the monastery like a prayer—except for the soft thumping of the door behind her.From the hushed whisper of her name off his damned tongue,that fateful night the devil came knocking.

The abbey was carved into the cliffs like a wound in the world, where cold winds howled prayers no soul could hear. Sister Y/N walked its candlelit halls with soft steps and a bowed head, but tonight, the crucifix at you're throat felt heavier. Wrong.The wind had carried whispers all week — that something old had risen, that a man with eyes like garnets you have been getting glimpses of never left your mind.You slightly curse yourself after agreeing to you're superior sisters request to fetch the water from the well under the moonless sky that night.

The path to the well was steep and overgrown, a trail of crumbling stones and rotting leaves. Each step away from the abbey made the silence deeper, until the only sound was your breath—and even that felt borrowed. The trees loomed like sentinels, and the wind whispered your name like a prayer twisted into a warning.

you reached the old stone well, its mouth yawning open like a throat ready to swallow secrets.

Soft. Behind you.

A voice, smooth and low, like dark wine spilled over velvet.

"Does your God keep you warm out here, little lamb?"

You froze. The rope slipped in your grip. And when you turned, he was there—leaning against a tree, half-shadowed, the white of his smile gleaming in the dark.

He looked nothing like the saints in your chapel paintings. No, he looked like temptation dressed in sin—eyes that promised eternity and ruin, a sharp jaw carved in defiance of heaven, and black onyx hair that curled around his face like a shadow. His smile was pointed and almost boyish, the kind that made damnation feel like an invitation.

He wore only a thin, white sleeveless undershirt clinging to his frame, and wool slacks that hung low on his hips—attire more suited for fevered dream than the cold night air.Moonlight kissed the bare flesh of his arms, all pale tension and silent power.It seems he's carrying a banjo,a musician perhaps you questioned still put on guard by this stranger.

Your sisters warn of men like him,A look that stripped away layers with every second, and a voice like sin is twice as dangerous.

"Names Remmick Sister"He stepped closer, the crunch of dead leaves beneath his boots the only sound in the silence between you. The air thickened, colder and warmer all at once, like the moment before a storm touches skin.

You staggered back a step, the movement instinctive, defensive. Eyes that once welcomed lost souls with mercy now burned with warning, sharp as drawn blades.“It’s dangerous to creep up on strangers this late,” you hissed, voice low and laced with steel.

Remmick raised his hands slowly, a placating gesture—but one that felt more theatrical than sincere.“Forgive me, Sister,” he drawled, voice warm as whiskey but laced with something colder, older. “I only came lookin’ for salvation… in the house of the good Lord.”

The accent was curious—Mississippi-slick, but threaded with the ghost of something European. It curled strangely in your ear, like a song you didn’t recognize but somehow feared you knew.And though his words spoke of redemption, everything else—his eyes, his stance, the way his gaze lingered on your body a second too long—told you he’d come seeking something far less holy.

“Please, Sister,” Remmick said, voice like a prayer wrapped in a lie. “Let me into the chapel. I’m starvin’… like a dog left to wander. It’s been a long, lonely road.”

His tone dripped with false sincerity, but beneath it throbbed something darker—hunger not for bread or mercy, but for something far more primal.

You remained skeptical, your grip tight around the crucifix at your chest. But something in his voice—its lazy pull, its velvet weight—slipped past your guard like smoke through a crack in stained glass.

He took a step forward. Then another. Confident. Unhurried. The way a predator moves when it knows the prey has nowhere left to run.

He was tall—broad-shouldered, cut from shadows and moonlight—and now too close.

You didn’t realize you’d backed away until your spine touched cold stone. The well.

Trapped.

His smile deepened.

“Ain’t no reason to run, Sister,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to your parted lips. “Not unless you want me to chase.”

It wasn’t his words that sent a chill down your spine—it was Remmick’s eyes: unnaturally deep, stained the color of fresh blood, glinting with a cold, iron-like gleam.Heart pounding at this sight, you turned and fled into the darkness, you're garments catching on thorns as if the night itself tried to hold you back.

You bolted through the chapel’s mahogany doors, sweat beading at your temple as if you’d just glimpsed the devil himself. Your mind raced, struggling to deny the truth of what you’d seen. Breathless, you hurried back to your quarters, vowing never to speak a word of this night to anyone.

That night, you tried to sleep—tried to forget that, no matter how handsome he was, the stranger was still devil-born, a temptation wrapped in sin. But your body betrayed you. Each time your eyes closed, he returned: in dreams thick with shadow and silk, whispering promises of claiming you as his bride, of rough, reverent touch, and that same impish smile curling at his lips. You woke breathless, thighs slick, aching with a need no prayer could ease.

Each morning you awoke drenched in want, thighs sticky, your cunt pulsing with unsatisfied need. Shame curled in your gut, but still—your fingers found your swollen clit, furiously circling, chasing relief with breathless urgency. You bit your lip to muffle the whimpers, hating how badly you needed it… how easily you gave in.

“Forgive me, Father…” you whispered, even as your hips arched into your own touch.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that just beyond the stained glass, shrouded by ivy and moonlight, Remmick watched. Eyes glowing red. Smile carved with hunger.

He’d been waiting for the moment you would sin for him.

You knelt at the altar, day after day, night after night, clutching your rosary with trembling fingers, whispering prayers you no longer felt worthy to speak. You begged your God to save you—from the hunger burning in your blood, from the sinful ache between your thighs, from the devil wearing a handsome smile.The words he says with his southern drawl.

But guilt clung to you like a second skin.

No matter how long you prayed, you couldn’t forget the nights your fingers plunged into your soaked pussy, desperate for release. You writhed in your sheets, biting back moans as your hips bucked, chasing ecstasy that never truly satisfied—because it wasn’t his hands.

Remmick’s voice haunted your thoughts, dark and honeyed. “Let me show you what heaven forgot lamb” His promises slithered into your dreams, into the heat of your body, leaving you panting and soaked before dawn.

And still… you returned to the altar. Hoping forgiveness might come before he did.

A sudden, sharp pain knifed through your abdomen, cutting your prayer in half. You gasped, nearly collapsing against the altar, your hands trembling as a warm, wet sensation slid down your inner thighs.

Looking down, you saw it—blood.

Thick, dark drops pattering onto the cold stone floor beneath you, obscene in the silence.

“Shit—no, no, please…” you whispered, voice cracking as panic surged through your chest. You clutched your belly, fingers slick with crimson. “Please, God, not tonight… not like this.”

You looked up at the holy paintings lining the chapel walls—once comforting, now mocking. The saints’ eyes no longer looked kind; they looked judgmental, distant. Cold.

“What’s happening to me?” you whispered. “Is this punishment? Is this what I get for… for touching myself and thinking of him?”

Your breath hitched, tears welling up.

“I didn’t ask for this. I tried to be good. I prayed, I begged You,” you said through clenched teeth. “But he won’t leave me alone—he’s inside me. Even when I sleep.”

You curled in on yourself at the base of the altar, unsure if you were trembling from pain or shame—probably both.

“I’m scared,” you whispered into the hollow dark. “And I think… I think I want it anyway.”

A sudden knock echoed through the chapel doors, cutting through your spiral of pain and guilt like a blade. You barely had time to wipe your tears before footsteps approached—measured, deliberate.

Father Aldric.

His eyes fell on you curled at the altar, the blood at your thighs unmistakable against your pale habit. Concern flickered across his face—but it vanished just as quickly, replaced by a look of thinly veiled disgust.

“Compose yourself,” he said coldly, his voice sharp enough to flay. “Clean the filth from your body before you invite the Devil in with it.”

The words struck harder than the cramping in your womb. Your face burned, not from fever or agony, but shame—heavy and suffocating. You opened your mouth to speak, but no defense came.

He didn’t wait.

Brushing past you as though you were nothing more than a stain on the floor, he approached the chapel doors. The moment his hand touched the handle, his entire posture changed—back straight, chin lifted, voice honeyed for whoever waited on the other side.

The mask of piety returned. But you still sat on the stone—bleeding, trembling, and damned beneath it all.

Then you heard it—that voice. Smooth, Southern-drenched, and touched with that strange, foreign edge that never quite fit. It slithered down the chapel aisle like smoke.

“Evenin’, Father,” Remmick drawled, easy and unhurried. “I’ve come to unburden my soul. Been carryin’ some real heavy sin in this chest of mine. Lustful thoughts, mostly. Real filthy things I oughta feel bad about.”

Your blood ran cold.

Remmick.

Your heart dropped straight to your gut. You dared not move, barely breathing as his voice curled through the air like incense—sweet, thick, and choking with suggestion.

“I figure confession’s the place for it, right? Can’t seem to get her outta my head… the way she moans in my dreams. The way her skin tastes in my imagination. I reckon I’m just possessed, Father.”

He gave a soft, theatrical sigh, every word laced with false repentance.

“You think there's still salvation for a man like me?”

From where you sat, still trembling and blood-stained, you could hear Father Aldric’s tight response—but you couldn’t take your eyes off the chapel doors.

He was here.

And somehow, you knew: he wasn’t just talking about any woman.

He was talking about you.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Father Aldric said stiffly, forcing a smile. “Come in, then. Seek salvation under God’s roof.”

He stepped aside, allowing the so-called stranger to cross the threshold.

Remmick entered like smoke slipping through a crack in stained glass—slow, deliberate, and far too at ease. His boots echoed against the stone floor, and as he passed into the chapel’s heart, his eyes found yours instantly.

They burned.

A slow, wicked smirk curled across his lips, not just smug—but triumphant. He was inside now. Inside your sacred space. And you both knew it wasn’t God he came seeking.

His gaze raked over you like teeth dragging across bare skin, lingering at the dark patch spreading down your inner thighs. His nostrils flared—barely, but unmistakably.

His eyes rolled back slightly, lashes fluttering, as if savoring the scent of you in the air.

“Mm,” he hummed, almost inaudible. “So that’s what devotion smells like.”

The hunger in his expression deepened—not just for your body, but for your ruin.

And yet… you couldn’t look away.

“Father, please—don’t go in there with him,” you begged, scrambling to your feet, your voice raw with panic. “He’s not human. He’s a monster. Look at him—look at his teeth!”

But your warning fell on deaf ears.

Father Aldric didn’t even glance back, his hand already on the confessional door, too blinded by pride—or faith—to see the danger standing inches from him.

Behind him, Remmick simply tilted his head, smiling wider, baring just enough fang to prove you right. The glint of them sent a chill down your spine.

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

That amused glint in his crimson eyes said it all: your fear delighted him, your plea was a performance, and this man you tried so desperately to save… wasn’t worth the breath you wasted.

Alarms screamed in your mind, each second stretching unbearably as Father Aldric brushed past your desperate pleas. You stood frozen, heart pounding as the confessional door creaked open and the two men—one a priest, the other something far less holy—took their seats within.

The wooden partition between them might as well have been a veil between salvation and damnation.

You stood there, helpless, breath shallow, watching the scene unfold like a slow-burning nightmare. You could feel it—danger coiled in the air, thick and waiting. You could do nothing now but listen… and pray you weren’t about to witness the beginning of something irreversible.

A slow, dark pool of blood began to seep from beneath the wooden door of the confessional, thick and glistening as it spread across the stone floor. A faint, wet gargling sound echoed through the chapel—grotesque and unnatural—followed by silence that felt heavier than death.

You screamed, the sound ripping from your throat before you could stop it. Your hand flew to your mouth, trembling as you stared in horror, eyes wide and unblinking. The sacred space now reeked of iron and blasphemy.

The confessional bled. And you knew—Father Aldric would not be walking back out.

Your knees gave out beneath you, collapsing to the cold stone floor as fear rooted you in place. Breath caught in your throat, eyes locked on the confessional like it might devour you next.

Then—creak.

The wooden door groaned open, and a pale, blood-slicked hand—fingers long, clawed, inhuman—emerged first.

Remmick stepped out with unhurried grace, his long strides echoing through the chapel, boots leaving red, glistening prints along the once-sacred aisle. Blood painted his hands, his jaw, the whole of his mouth like a communion gone wrong.

He lifted his head, eyes locking on you like a predator spotting his trembling prey.

“Littllle laaamb,” he cooed in a sing-song voice, low and mocking, lips curling into something between a grin and a snarl. “Still praying?”

“His blood tasted like dirt,” Remmick murmured, licking a smear from his thumb as he walked toward you, boots squelching against the blood-slick stone. “But watchin’ the light fade from his eyes? That was satisfyin’. Just like the men who once spat the same holy words at me and mine… before I tore the faith right outta their throats.”

He was still dressed in the same worn undershirt and wool slacks from the night you first met him—but now, they were soaked through with gore. Streaks of crimson marked his chest, splattered his gold chain, and painted his skin like a macabre blessing.

And still, he smiled—as if violence were just another kind of worship.

“Please, Remmick—leave me alone!” you cried, voice cracking with terror. “In Christ’s name, I beg you!”

Tears streamed down your cheeks, hot against your chilled skin, your hands clutching the crucifix at your throat like it might still mean something—like it might still protect you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, praying—pleading—that this was only a nightmare. That when you opened them again, he’d be gone. That the blood would vanish. That your soul might still be saved.

But the silence that followed was not the silence of mercy.

It was the silence of something drawing closer.

Remmick let out a deep, boisterous laugh, the sound bursting from his fanged mouth like a crack of thunder in the chapel’s hollow air. It echoed off the stone walls—mocking, feral, hungry.

Then, without warning, he dropped to his knees with unnatural grace, crawling toward you like a wolf playing with its prey. You scrambled back instinctively, only to feel the cold bite of the altar steps pressing against your spine.

He followed—relentless—his pale, lean frame caging you in, arms braced on either side of your trembling body, his blood-slicked chest brushing yours with every breath.

“My sweet little lamb,” he cooed, voice thick with wicked delight, “you’re so precious when you beg.”

His crimson eyes gleamed inches from your own—savoring your fear… and your confusion.

“Mmm… how could I ever let a sweet little thing like you slip away that night?” Remmick purred, his voice low and syrup-thick. “I should’ve taken you right then and there—pinned you to the well, made you mine beneath the moonlight.”

He leaned in close, burying his face in your hair, inhaling deeply like your scent was a sacrament. His breath was hot against your temple, and you felt it—the way his body trembled with restrained hunger.

His hands began to roam, fingertips dragging through the tears on your cheeks and streaking your skin with blood, smearing it across your jaw, your throat—marking you.

“God, you smell divine,” he whispered, voice nearly a growl. “So ripe… bleeding and trembling for me.”

You gasped as his hand drifted lower, his eyes locked on your body like a starving man eyeing his first meal in centuries. Every breath you took made your chest rise against his, every second more dangerous than the last.

Despite your desperate prayers, despite the trembling words you whispered for him to stop, your body betrayed you. Shame burned hot beneath your skin, but so did something else—something darker. You hated the way his touch made your breath hitch… hated even more how your thighs pressed together in response.

His blood-warmed hands kneaded your breasts through the thin fabric, rough and reverent all at once, sending shocks of pleasure down your spine. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, but it slipped out anyway—soft, broken.

Remmick chuckled against your skin, low and sinful.

“There she is…” he murmured.

His lips found the curve of your neck, kissing it slowly—almost lovingly. Then his tongue flicked along your pulse, followed by the sharp scrape of his teeth, not quite biting, just enough to make your breath catch.

“You taste like heaven tryin’ to pretend it don’t wanna fall.”

Piece by piece, he stripped you—each garment peeled away with care, almost reverence—until only your underwear clung to you, wet with arousal and fear alike. The cold air kissed your bare skin, but his hands were fire.

And you… were no longer certain you wanted to run.

Remmick’s gaze darkened as he took in your pert nipples, their hardness sharpened by the cool night air. With deliberate hunger, he leaned in, his lips closing over one, sucking softly at first, then with increasing intensity. The mingled taste of blood and saliva coated his mouth as he moved to the other, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin, igniting every nerve with fire.

You were a moaning, panting mess beneath him, every nerve alive and trembling—proof that those forbidden dreams were spilling into flesh and bone, becoming dangerously real.

“Remmick,” you gasped, voice thick with want and disbelief, trembling as waves of pleasure pooled deep inside you, pulsing hotter with every touch.

He smiled, low and dark, lips brushing your ear as his breath feathered against your skin.

“That’s right, my lamb,” he whispered, voice dripping with promise and possession. “Feel everything… surrender to what you’ve been craving all along.”

“Now… to claim what I want,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous.

With careful, deliberate hands, he slid off your soiled garment, revealing your trembling flesh beneath. A sharp gasp escaped you as his mouth made contact—cool, demanding, and utterly consuming.

He lavished attention on you, his breath hot and ragged as he explored every sensitive curve, his tongue flicking and pressing with possessive hunger. The world shrank to the sound of your ragged breaths and the fire igniting deep within you—where pleasure and pain mingled in a dark, irresistible dance.

His fingers slipped deep inside you, moving with slow, deliberate rhythm that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You moaned and writhed beneath his touch, caught in the storm of sensations unlike anything you’d ever known.

“Yes,” he growled, voice thick with possession. “Scream my name, little lamb. Cry out all you want—no god can save you now.”

His thumb circled your swollen clit in slow, teasing spirals until you shattered into a jaw-dropping climax. Lost in the tremors of your release, you failed to notice the soft, ominous sound of a belt being unbuckled. But by then, it was already too late.

“Now, lamb,” Remmick murmured, looming above you, eyes burning with hunger, “are you ready to pray? Because I’m the only god you’ll ever kneel for now.”

You looked up at him, tears streaking down your cheeks, your lips trembling with silent, desperate pleading.

“Please… don’t,” you whispered, voice barely audible—more hope than command.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear, his words cold as iron.

“You don’t have a choice.”

Then came the pain—sharp, burning, undeniable. Your body arched, instinctively rejecting and receiving all at once, as something sacred was broken.

Remmick let out a dark, satisfied breath, as though he’d claimed not just your body—but your soul.

He moved with a relentless rhythm, each thrust deep and punishing, the kind that promised soreness long after the night ended. It felt as though his hunger wrapped around you—thick, unseen, suffocating everything but him.

At first, your fists clutched the sheets, knuckles pale with tension—but need overtook restraint. Your hands found his back, raking up the ridges of his spine, desperate to anchor yourself in something real. His muscles tensed under your touch, a coil of strength drawn tighter with every breath, every movement, every sound you gave him.

“Damn… worth every second of waiting,” he growled, voice thick with strain and satisfaction.

His tongue dragged slowly up your cheek, licking away the tears you’d shed—born from overwhelming pleasure, not pain. The intimacy of it sent another shiver through you, making your breath hitch.

Your mouth parted in a soft, helpless “O,” euphoria crashing over you in waves. Thought slipped from your grasp, your mind hazy and sweetly blank as your eyes rolled back, body trembling beneath his.

A brutal snap of his hips stole the breath from your lungs, forcing a gasp that caught in your throat. The sensation was overwhelming—like being split open, carved in two, but not with pain. No, it was something divine. As if his body was chiseling into yours a sacred ruin, marking you with every stroke.

You whispered half-formed prayers between moans, clutching at anything—God, mercy, salvation—but all of it blurred beneath the weight of him.

“Please,” you gasped, not even sure who you were begging anymore.

Remmick was above you, groaning low, his control unraveling as quickly as your own. His cock pressed deeper, harder, as his hand slid between your trembling bodies. His fingers found your aching clit again, rubbing and pinching with cruel precision until your vision blurred with tears.

“Say my name,” he growled, breath hot against your neck, “and pray to me this time.”

Your lips parted—not to cry out for God, but for him.

Each of Remmick’s deep, relentless thrusts drove your breath into ragged whispers—pleasure blooming hot and wild inside you, threatening to burn through everything you thought you believed. The chapel air was thick with sin, sweat, and the unholy rhythm of your bodies.

You clenched your eyes shut, hands gripping the cold altar steps as your lips moved in trembling prayer.

“Forgive me… please forgive me,” you whispered, each word broken by a gasp, a moan, another thrust that made your back arch. “God… I didn’t mean to… I can’t—”

But even as you begged for salvation, your body betrayed you—rolling your hips to meet his, clinging to the ecstasy that pulsed with every stroke.

Above you, Remmick laughed low, dark, wicked.

“That’s it, lamb. Pray. Cry out to your god while I ruin you for him.”

His hand covered your chest, pressing you down as his other thumb found your clit again, sending lightning through your veins.

Your prayers faltered into moans—devotion collapsing into desire.

You chanted his name over and over again praying to him in your cock-drunk state"oooohh Goddd,ugh, please forgive me-" you try to complete your prayers but his mean thrusts keep silencing you.

He's getting desperate to chase his release as you already climaxed at least twice from him.Pace getting faster and faster the sinful noise of skin slapping against skin echoed through the saints halls.Overstimulated by this you are reduced to a moaning mess.

“Come for me, little lamb,” Remmick growled, his voice rough with need, hips slamming into yours in a frenzied rhythm.

You were already trembling, your body wound so tight it felt ready to snap—and then it did. White heat burst behind your eyes as another powerful climax overtook you, your body arching into his as waves of ecstasy rolled through you for the third time that night.

His movements grew erratic, desperate—driven by something primal. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself fully inside you, groaning as he spilled into your womb, his release hot and claiming. You felt it—every pulse, every throb—as he marked you from the inside out.

You lay beneath him, shaking and overwhelmed, the air thick with sweat, sin, and something far more dangerous: surrender.

A/N: hope you guys enjoy i feel like it was a lil lack luster on the period part but i will do a drabble soon.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

#remmick smut #sinners remmick #sinners 2025 #remmick x reader #tw: dubious consent #tw: dead dove #tw: blood #tw: death

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