#old judge priest

[letterboxd-loggd]

Judge Priest (1934) John Ford

December 14th 2023

[yrqrnc]

nvm federico, ended up going for gabriel garcía márquez instead

[kdmiller55]

Give Us A King!

1 When Samuel became old, he made his sons judges over Israel. 2 The name of his firstborn son was Joel, and the name of his second, Abijah; they were judges in Beersheba. 3 Yet his sons did not walk in his ways but turned aside after gain. They took bribes and perverted justice. 4 Then all the elders of Israel gathered together and came to Samuel at Ramah 5 and said to him, “Behold, you are old…

[playdoh-plato]

something im really enjoying in daredevil atm is all the references to matt being Catholic. like. im sorry theyre so fucking funny

[heavndoll]

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

pairings — catholic!fem reader and eddie munson

summary — you're a good catholic girl. always have been — even though you're dating eddie munson, who's the complete opposite of that. he's crude and vulgar, and his influence may just taint you entirely.

warnings tags — adult language. mentions of religion, talks of god. eddie hates god, but has a god kink. major blasphemy. reader has daddy issues. mentions of jason craver (ew i know). graphic details of smut: loss of virginity (virgin!reader) + corruption. oral (eddie receiving). f!ngering. slight degrading but more praise. wrong usage of a rosary.

Eddie Munson was merely the Devil in your parents eyes.

To you, he was the seventh heaven.

Crossing paths with him was not a mistake, but a blessing. Eddie took care of you, and loved you. He really loved you.

You met him through a friend who went to Hawkins with him, and you couldn’t perceive him as a bad boy, whatsoever. He was genuine and kind the second you and him met, asking questions about you that no other guy ever had done.

But you knew he was not the guy you could bring home to your parents. Your parents were aware of him, since your father was a Sheriff for the Hawkins department, and always got reports of him.

You couldn’t tell them about your infatuation for Eddie, and how your heart burned for him, belonged to him. You were more faithful to Eddie Munson than you were to your Catholicism, and for you to say that to your parents, would earn you a kick to church camp.

You couldn’t say that their sweet little girl was in love with Hawkins’ freak; that he had told her many ways he wanted to deprive her of innocence and purity; that he dreamed of her worshiping him under her cross.

And you dreamed of that, every Sunday, for the past many month.

You sat in between your father and mother as the Priest read from the bible, and you fiddled with the ending hem of your white, babydoll dress. You stared mindfully at the cross, your head drawing the image of Eddie taking your virginity, rupturing your virtue, right underneath it.

You did feel a bit of guilt when you thought such lewd things, and you did blame Eddie for it. You felt even worse thinking of them in church, where you were supposed to be devoting your love and soul to the Lord, not a wild man.

“Hebrews 13:4 says, ‘Marriage is to be held in honor among all, and the marriage bed is to be undefiled; for fornicators and adulterers God will judge’”, the Priest spoke confidently, eyes glancing up to everyone for a second.

You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping tightly on your dress.

What the fuck, Jesus, you thought to yourself. I’m a fucking eighteen year old, of course I want to fornicate!

“Sweet dear,” your mother whispered, and you looked at her. “You look unwell. Are you okay?”

“Do you mind if I take a moment outside?” You wondered, brows drawing upwards. “It feels stuffy. Just for a minute, please.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Very well, then. Be quiet, dear.”

You thanked her, standing up, and quickly — but quietly — dismissed yourself out of the building, pushing open the wooden doors. The second you were outside, you groaned, the doors swinging close behind you.

“I’m damned for Hell,” you mumbled, rubbing your temple in frustration.

“So am I,” you heard a voice come from the side of you. You spin your head, finding Eddie there, smoking a cigarette. “For smoking of the Lord’s sacred grounds.”

“Eddie,” you sighed in relief, walking up to him, and he brought you into his embrace. He kissed the side of your head, before pulling back. “What are you doing here? If my parents — or anyone — sees you, they will make a fret out of it!”

Eddie chuckled. “Is that so?”

“I’m serious, Eds,” you frowned, throwing a small, playful slap to his shoulder. “We don’t need a scene.”

“Ah, I know, angel,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for assurance. “I just needed to see you. Was wondering what you are doing tonight?”

“I have homework, and finish my project on the Betrayal of Judas tonight,” you explained, annoyed at the mere thought of it. “It’s going to take all night. Why do you ask?”

“I wanted you to come by my trailer tonight,” Eddie said, and you smiled, but upset you had to decline his suggestion. “But it’s okay. I’m going to pick you up after school tomorrow, okay?”

“If Sister Josie sees you, she will report you to my parents,” you warned, and he only barked a laugh, throwing his head back. “I do not want to be sent to a camp because I was caught with you, Eds.”

“If your parents did that, I’d kidnap you,” Eddie stated, and you rolled your eyes, shooting a look at the church’s doors, eyes retreating back into his shortly after. “Go on in, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can do something fun.”

You raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Anything you wanted,” Eddie promised, giving your chin a soft pinch. “Be good for me, yeah?”

You hummed, and nodded. “Bye, Eds,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he watched you walk all the way back into the church.

You hurried back to your row, perching yourself back in between your parents.

“Feel better?” Your mother asked.

You inhaled sharply. “Much better.”

Your fork poked at the vegetables that sat on your dinner plate, your eyes boring into it. It was always quiet on Sunday dinners, and you never said anything, unless your parents did.

Your mother poured herself another glass of red wine, and your father glanced at you, then his wife. “Got another report today about that Munson boy,” your father cracked the perfect quiet, and was visibly angered. “He’s been seen graffiting near Lovers Lake.”

“And who is reporting that?” Your mother questioned, sipping her beverage.

“Probably that ass kisser, Jason,” you mumbled, and your father slammed his hands down on the table.

“LANGUAGE!” Your father bellowed, and you dropped your fork onto your plate, slouching back into your chair. “Jason is a good boy. A good son of the Lord, and that’s the kind of guy you need in your life.”

“Jason literally tried to kiss me at the eighth grade school dance,” you recalled, scoffing. “Without my consent, may I add!”

“Well you two were children then,” your mother said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s a lovely boy. His friends are lovely too!”

You purse your lips. “His friends are dumb fucks.”

Okay, so maybe Eddie really did have a bad influence on you. Because you would never — for the love of God — curse in front of your parents, until now.

“What’s with the mouth?” Your father asked, and you glared at him. “You ought to pray tonight to the Lord tonight.”

“I’m just growing up, daddy,” you mocked, standing up from the dinner table, and threw your napkin on top of your plate. You stormed out of the dining room, straight into your bedroom, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

You dropped your body onto your bed, stuffing your face into your pillow. You wanted to scream and kick every object in your room, but refused not to do such a thing.

You were fine with laying on your bed, and smothering yourself with a pillow, until you heard gentle knocks at your window. You jolted up, your head craning toward the sound, and peeked at the window.

And you found Eddie, standing right outside your window.

You cursed under your breath, and stalked over to your window, snapping it open. Eddie smiled at the sight of you, though he could tell you were mystified by his unnoticed appearance.

“Do you want to kidnap me that badly?” You wondered, and he chuckled breathily, shrugging. “You can’t be here right now. My dad and I got into this fight.”

“About me, I suppose?” Eddie asked, allowing himself to jump into and through your bedroom window, and you didn’t stop him. “I know how your daddy likes to talk about me.”

“He said I should be with Jason, or someone like him,” you said, and he closed your bedroom window. “Because he is a son of the Lord.”

“Or the fucking Devil,” Eddie joked, and you snickered, but agreed. “I wonder what your dad would think if he knew you were with me, hm?”

“He would take his shotgun to you,” you admitted, and Eddie took a look around your bedroom. “Anyway, you can stay for a bit, but my father demands I pray for cursing.”

“Their little girl suddenly has a mouth of dirt?” Eddie teased, and you slapped his arm, which he laughed at. “Have I finally corrupted their innocent daughter?”

“Shut it, Munson,” you snapped, and he leaned against your desk, his eyes casting down at your Bible that sat on top of it.

“How about you pray right now? I won’t say a thing,” Eddie suggested, and you raised a brow, tilting your head. “You need to get it over with, anyway. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“You want to watch me pray?” You asked.

“It’d be nice, ya’know?” Eddie grinned, and he could tell you were completely gullible to what he was getting at. “Maybe I could learn a thing or two.”

You considered it, and simply agreed, walking up next to him. You grabbed your bible, and opened it up as you made your way over to your bed, kneeling at the end of it. Your knees brushed against your carpet-like flooring, looking up at your cross.

“Wait, Eds,” you paused, and he was already giving you your pink rosary. You thanked him, wrapping it around your fingers, and held it tightly in your hand.

Your cross hung right above your bed, right in the middle of your room, and your attention diverted from him, to the Bible.

Eddie simply watched and witnessed you speak and pray, and he felt sick for getting aroused to this pure sight of you, pleading for forgiveness from a man who supposedly ruled the Earth. He wanted to touch you, for his hands to memorize and caress every curve of your body.

His eyes unpeeled that baby pink tank top you wore, then went to your white, soft sweatpants. He wondered how it’d be like for you to plead and worship him in front of the Lord as he made you call him your God.

Maybe that was an awful, crude dream to play in his head, but he wanted to have your devotion turn to him, not the Lord.

The Lord couldn’t love and care for you the way he did.

Eddie went over to your bedroom door, and locked it, seeing how focused you were on the pages of pure fiction.

He kneeled behind you, and wrapped an arm around your torso, your body shuddering. He brought you closer to him, planting an innocent kiss on your shoulder.

“Eddie, I’m praying,” you pouted, setting your Bible down for a moment. “You said you wouldn’t disrupt.”

“Just keep going, love,” he mumbled, his tip of his nose brushing against your skin. “Keep praying.”

You rolled your eyes and did so, continuing to recite every word from the pages.

Eddie’s lips made their way to the nape of your neck, getting the sweet scent of your perfume. “What a good girl,” he whispered, his hot breath sending a symphony of shivers along your body. “Doing anything to stay pure and good.”

You nearly faltered, your concentration weakening. His hand trailed to your stomach, resting on your abdomen.

Eddie had touched you before, but not fully — not under your clothes. He even afforded to show you how to touch yourself, but Sister Tina from your school said you’d be banished to Hell for such a thing; so that set enough fear in.

Now, you craved for him to touch him. You didn’t know why in this particular moment — out of every heated, lusting moment — you wanted to feel him, to take you apart, and taint every part of your body, and brain.

You began to stutter as you spoke, Eddie’s hand crawling under your sweatpants, grazing over your clothed area. “Do you think the Lord wants me to touch you?” He taunted, and you hummed, your hands grasping harshly onto both sides of the Bible. “What do you think?”

“Eddie,” you managed to breathe out. “Eddie.”

“I want him to watch me take his devoted angel,” Eddie continued, his fingers creeping into your underwear, and your body flinched the second his fingers pressed against your bud. “Show him that he is no protector.”

You nodded, and Eddie grinned, resting his chin onto your shoulder.

You wanted Eddie. You needed Eddie.

“Keep reading, or I’ll stop,” Eddie warned, and you couldn’t hold onto a single thought as his middle finger curled into your unripe cunt. You moaned, squeezing your eyelids shut to the feeling of it. It was a single fucking finger in you, and you felt like pure bliss.

Eddie continued to pump the individual finger in you, slowly and surely as you tried to read more.

Everything was going smoothly, until a knock hit against your bedroom door.

Your father barked your name, you and Eddie freezing up. “Honey, why is your door locked?” Your father asked, shaking the doorknob. “Are you okay?”

Eddie smirked, his ring finger joining his middle, both pumping into a picked up pace.

“I–I’m praying!” You announced, trying to hold back your noises. “I wanted to pray in privacy, talk to the Lord!”

“Oh,” your father spoke from the other side of the door. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetie. I just wanted to say, you know I’m just looking out for you, right?”

Eddie’s fingers struck an unknown, but euphoric, spot in you, and you choked down a loud moan. “Yeah, daddy! I know that,” you responded, throwing your head back onto Eddie’s shoulder, and the Bible collapsed to the side of you.

Eddie chuckled quietly, using his free hand to wrap onto your throat. “What a filthy girl,” he whispered into your ear, grasping onto your neck.

“There’s bad guys out there, like Eddie Munson,” your father said, and Eddie wanted to bark a laugh. “If you were to be with a boy like that, I’d lose it. Boys only want one thing, and you know that.”

Another noise was lodged in your throat, Eddie having to squeeze your throat as a warning.

“I know, I know! Now, can I continue praying, please?” You asked, and Eddie’s finger shoved into you faster, and harder.

“Yes, of course! Your mother and I are heading to the Martins for a bit,” he acknowledged, and you had to slam your own hand over your mouth. “We should be back no later than 11. Be good!”

You kept your hand over your mouth until you heard the front door slam shut, and the second they did, you freed all your noises. Your chest heaved, your body becoming pudding against Eddie’s.

A hot sensation hit your stomach, and you found pleasure in it. It was an unfamiliar, enjoyable feeling. Your thighs trembled, and Eddie took a quick note to it, noticing how you were barely adjusting to this. “Are you going to cum?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with confusion.

“Cum?” You repeated.

“Does it feel like your stomach is on fire?” Eddie asked, his fingers making themselves deeper into your core, and you nodded. “That means you’re at your climax, love. That you are going to cum. It’s very normal.”

You still had a lot to learn, and Eddie was glad enough to teach you it all.

“Just let it go, sweetheart. Let it be free,” he cooed, and you hummed, your body convulsing the second your climax poured out of you, nearly dropping to the floor. He kept you up and close to him, and you panted, swallowing thickly.

Eddie’s fingers disappeared out of you, removing his hand completely from you. He placed his two fingers in his mouth, getting the sweet taste of you, and nearly moaned. “You taste fucking divine.”

You blushed, and eyed your Bible, picking it up. “I think I got enough forgiveness,” you joked, and Eddie hummed, helping you stand up with him. “I just…”

“Hm?” Eddie wondered, taking the Bible from you, and rested it on your desk. “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I want,” your voice quavered, your head hanging low in embarrassment. “I want more.”

Eddie placed his finger under your chin, bringing your head up to look him directly in the eye. “You want more? You have to be more specific, love,” Eddie mused, and you whimpered. “Use your words, please.”

“I want you to touch me more,” you only knew how to say it like that. Just paraphrase it in that way. “I want you to fuck me?”

“Is that a question or statement?” Eddie jested, and you whined more, embarrassed. “I’m kidding, sweet girl. I know what you mean, but are you sure?”

You nodded, smiling in confidence.

Eddie tugged you closer to his body, his lips smothering yours, and his hands laid on your hips, squeezing them gently. Your arms looped around his neck, holding him close to you, your body aching for him.

He led you over to your bed, sitting down onto it as you straddled his lap. Your hands cupped his cheeks, your rosary brushing against his skin, and you could feel him smile on your lips.

His lips fell off of yours, and he stripped off his upper half clothing, dropping them to your floor. Your eyes widened to the view of his body, his abs perfectly toned, and your finger drew around the tattoos he had on the left side of his chest.

“I like this tattoo,” you giggled at the Demon and spider tattoos, and he smiled, kissing the side of your head. “But I will always like your puppetmaster tattoo a lot more.”

“Gotta get you a tattoo one day,” Eddie said, and you shook your head. “Get you a pretty tattoo, just like mine, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, and he hummed, his fingers hooking under your shirt. You let him take it off of you, undoing your bra by yourself. You hesitantly shimmed off your bra, the straps sliding down your arms, and onto your lap.

You put it on the ground with the other clothes, and you didn’t stare at Eddie as his eyes gawked at your breasts. You were insecure and worried – he was the first guy to ever see your bare body.

Panic slowly rolled in. “Is it okay? Am I okay?”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed, looking up at you, and then at your breasts. “You are so beautiful. This body, all mine to touch and mark.”

Your worries washed away, Eddie planting loving kisses on your breasts.

“Your body is fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, captivated and enthralled by your gracious beauty. “All fucking mine.” He carefully laid you on your back, on the bed, and hovered over you, his lips falling back onto yours. His body rutted against yours, hands at the waistband of your sweatpants,

“Take them off, Eds,” you breathed into the kiss, and his taste was gone for a moment as he listened, stripping off your sweatpants. You were left in your white cotton panties, and he took a second to unbuckle his belt, and then his pants, both landing on the ground.

You and Eddie were only left in your underwear, and you could feel a hard bulge brush against your inner thigh.

Oh, you thought to yourself. That.

“Are you sure you’re ready, doll?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with assuring, doe eyes, and he kissed your forehead. He reached over to his pants, grabbing his wallet from it, and pulled out a small wrapper from it.

You shivered, and your eyes bored into Eddie as he took off his boxers, and you tensed the second you glimpsed at his cock.

You were about to pray to God again, due to the overwhelmingly huge size of Eddie.

Eddie opened up the wrapper, taking out the condom, and slipped it on. You took off your panties and kicked them off, throwing your rosary too, seeing how they joined all other clothing items on the floor.

“It’s going to hurt at first; if you want me to stop, just say so,” Eddie said, and one of his hands held onto yours for comfort as his other was used to guide him into you. You could feel the head of him at your cunt, and you squeezed his hand whilst his cock made its way into you, slowly and bit by bit.

Your back arched, gasping aloud to the feeling of him fulfilling you. Eddie’s hand grasped onto your jaw, holding onto it, forcing you to hold eye contact with him. “Just take me, love,” he mused, and you whimpered in response.

You were being easily stretched and torn apart by his cock, your virtue draining out of you with every brush of him coming in and out of you. You continued to hold onto his hand, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand for assurance you were safe.

Eddie kept a steady, delicate pace, taking a clear eye to how you were already in shambles. He was simply dispossessing you of your longing purity, your body and devotion belonging to him now.

This was Seventh Heaven to you — this was all of the joy and exhilaration you longed for.

Your cunt adjusted to his size, and your hand let go of him, setting both of them onto his shoulders. “More, Eddie. Please,” you pleaded, and he began to drill himself deeper into you, his hands pressing onto your stomach for support.

You squealed, his eyes on the way his cock thrusted into you. Your body elevated upwards, and your glossy eyes caught a glance of the cross above your bed.

If this corruption was so cruel, so vile, why did it feel so fucking amazing?

Flares of euphoria spurred throughout your body as wanton, lewd noises elicited out of your mouth, and filled your bedroom. Embers of pure, raw desire were in Eddie’s eyes the second they fell back into yours, his breath shuddering his rib cages.

A firestorm grew in your stomach, and your nails dug into Eddie’s shoulder, earning a harsh moan out of him. “‘M gonna cum,” you told him, your chest falling up and down rapidly. “I need to cum, Eds.”

“What a sensitive whore you are,” he taunted, and you groaned, the fire spreading into your thighs. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for your God.”

Your lids sealed shut as your climax peaked and rushed out of you, your body moving with a hard jolt to it. Eddie nearly laughed mockingly at you, your delicate, unripe body, now sweating and shaking from sinful sex.

You barely had collected the fact Eddie referred to him as your God, but you didn’t hate it.

You liked it.

“I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth,” Eddie said, and helped you sit up as he took off the condom. “I always told you I’d find a way for you to worship me. Get on your knees, angel.”

Eddie tossed his condom into your trash bin, turning his attention back onto you.

You obeyed, and stumbled to your bedroom floor, collapsing down onto your knees. Eddie seized your rosary, and took the opportunity to tie up your wrists with the symbolized jewelry. You whined, tugging at your hostaged wrists.

“Open your mouth for me,” Eddie said, standing in front of you. Your mouth popped open, and he shoved two fingers into your mouth, creeping them to the back of your throat. You gagged the second his fingers hit your throat, your eyes watering.

You stared up at him with pure and pious eyes, that were almost daunting, too.

“How are you going to be able to take my cock, when you can barely take my fingers, angel?” He asked, and a tear trickled down your cheek. He was amused by this single tear. “You worship me?”

You nodded as his fingers left your mouth, his knuckles brushing along your cheek. “Yes, I worship you. Only you,” you assured, giving the edge of his palm a delicate, small kiss. “You’re my religion.”

He chuckled. “Such a good little thing you are.”

Eddie’s fingers curled into your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. His hips pushed forward, his cock stuffing your opened mouth.

You remembered your friend told you about blowjobs — that you make sure your teeth don’t touch, or it makes it unpleasant. Your friend wasn’t as faithful or pure as you were, only going to Catechism to please her parents.

Eddie’s cock continuously hit the back of your throat, drawing inchorenet gargles from you as tears lined at the brim of your eyes. Your throat was brutalized, yet you soaked into the pain of it, taking pleasure in every second of it.

Your eyes rolled back the deeper his cock went, his teeth gritting together, and moaned your name like a mantra.

Eddie’s head fell back, his hips snapping into your face, and you gurgled, trying your best to breathe out of your nostrils. “Shit, shit, I’m close,” he told you, and that was the only warning you were given, nothing else. “Keep your mouth steady and open for your God, baby.”

His climax flooded into your mouth, your tongue getting a salty taste of his high, and he pushed his cock out of your mouth. He tried to catch his breath, sweat beading at his forehead and body, his fingers unhooking from your hair.

“Let me see, doll,” Eddie said, and you happily showed him the way his cum sat on your tongue. “Mhm, that’s a good girl. Swallow it.”

You closed your mouth, taking it all down at once, and he kissed the top of your head. He unknotted the rosary, and your wrists were glad to be free.

Eddie sat the jewelry on your bed stand, and helped you up, sitting you down on your bed afterwards. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He panicked, and you shook your head, a few strands of your hair matted to your teary, sweating cheeks.

“Did I do okay?” You asked, and he frowned, cupping your cheeks, caressing them lovingly with his thumbs.

“You were wonderful, sweet girl. So good,” he reassured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and dressed. You still have that project.”

You groaned, barely remembering it. “Oh fuck!”

[mrskokushibo]

Lead us not into Temptation

Kokushibo x nun!reader

Warnings: Sex, Smut, MDNI, NSFW, strictly 18+

Summary: A young nun struggles with her carnal desires, and in the midst of that, she gets corrupted by a hot demon.

Masterlist

…And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and, the power, and the glory, forever. Amen. (Matthew 6:11-13; King James Version (KJV) of the Bible).

This was the fifth consecutive night that you were kneeling alone at night in the convent’s empty chapel, saying the Lord’s Prayer repeatedly. Your thoughts were, to say the least, impure, and this was the penance that the friendly old priest administered you in the daily confession. With autumn at the threshold and the harvest over and done with, there was much less physical work for the nuns. Autumn and winter were the time for prayer and withdrawal. A time to give the tired physical body rest after the intense labour of spring and summer. The convent’s gardens and orchard were breaming with fruit and vegetables, the bee hives full of honey, and the poultry barns overrun with chickens, geese, and ducks. Everything was now harvested, prepared, and stored for winter. Enough food to provide for both the convent’s needs as well as to help the impoverished families in the nearby settlement.

But your body was as fertile and ripe as the gardens in summer, and rest was not what it seemed to crave… You often wondered what it would be like to belong to a man. Your family could not afford the dowry, and there were only two choices for you: the brothel or the convent. When the latter was chosen, you knew you would never experience a man’s love. The former option, however, would have only given you a corrupted and twisted mockery of such love.

When you first stepped over the worn-out stone threshold of the large, grey medieval building, you felt apprehensive, to say the least. One look at the large crucifix, the only thing adorning the spacious vestibule, and the worry of a lonely and cold life were gripping you as tight as a vice. With time, you learned how wrong you were about life here. The nuns were warm and kind and since this was not one of the strictest orders, you were allowed to venture out to the village bringing food and medical aid to the inhabitants, who in turn treated you all as if you were angels. This was not a bad life. You enjoyed the gardens, and your favourite chore was tending to the animals.

At last, you finished your fiftieth Lord’s Prayer and slowly stood up, straightened your black nun’s habit, and readied yourself to walk back to your cell. The shortest way was to walk through the glorious sacred garden in the courtyard adjacent to the chapel. The cells were situated in the cloister, the open gallery walk that wrapped around the courtyard. The garden was magnificent in autumn, with leaves turning all shades of fire and sun.

As you stepped on the gravel pathway, you stopped in your tracks. There, in the corner near the large acacia, was a tall figure, judging by the broad shoulders, a male. You realised this could have not been any of the priests as they did not stay at the convent at night, but also, none of them was this tall… Apprehensive at first, you cautiously decided to approach him, your natural curiosity was always stronger than fear. As you were getting close, suddenly three pairs of eyes stared at you. They were red with golden pupils. Was this a dream? Who was this?

‘Who are you…?’ You spoke with a slightly hitched voice, but before you managed to finish your sentence, he was gone.

You stood for a while as petrified but then hurried to your cell. It was a sparse room, big enough for a simple bed, a closet for your habits, and any other garments you needed. There was also a desk, a chair, and several candlelights, which you requested, especially since you were an avid reader and writer, and the convent’s library had a wealth of approved literature.

After finishing your bedtime routine and saying your prayers, you crawled into bed, the last thought occupying your mind being the strange sight you encountered in the garden.

Without the candles being lit, your room was pitch black. You could barely make out the contours of your furniture. Suddenly, you heard a quiet rustle next to the foot of your bed…and then six burning eyes appeared out of the dark. A large hand started caressing your thigh and moving up toward your groin, a sudden light kiss on your lips, and a hand stroking your cheek and neck. You almost flew up, but the same strong, large hand pinned you down in place.

‘Shhhh, someone will hear you.’

A deep, masculine voice came from the direction of the eyes. You were speechless, this was surely a dream and well…you were curious as to what would happen next… A hand was now massaging you between your legs, not moving in under the cloth of your undergarment yet, but this was enough for your juices to slowly overflow. You moaned quietly, and this was encouragement enough for the male to slide his fingers under the cloth. As he was spreading your slick-covered folds, your pleasure was slowly taking over you. He was rubbing you up and down between your labia, not even yet touching your clitoris, a long finger slowly tracing circles around your opening and another prying its way inside you…

‘Father, forgive me for I have sinned.’

You touched yourself so many times before, but this was so entirely different. The anticipation of where his touch was to land next was the difference between a deliberate move of your own fingers. This was indescribable. You were trying not to moan too loud, but staying quiet was not an easy feat. When his touch finally reached your erect little bud, you were close to bursting. It did not take him long to push you to your orgasm and as you climaxed, you released your juices all over his hand. The next moment, you woke up, still riding out your orgasm. You were completely soaked between your legs from all the cum you squirted out. Sunlight was peering into the room through the narrow window, it was most obviously morning. You were in bliss, but also shaking your head at the dream that left you in this state. Because… this surely must have been a dream… This would be an interesting confession…

*****

The old, kind priest sighed as you uttered the routine phrase.

‘Is it the same… as usual, dear child?’

‘Yes, father, but this time it felt like someone … did things to me. I was not touching myself at all. Well, it was a dream, actually. But it evoked an indecent response from me… The thing that did trouble me, was that even though that someone was human, at the same time, he did not seem to be. He had six eyes and had a demonic aura about him.’

The priest sighed again and shook his head.

‘Look, dear child, what you are experiencing is normal for someone young. Believe me, we all had such thoughts in our youth. Just try and work on changing the focus of them. As for the form of your assailant, well, do not dwell on that too much. I am sure it is not possession or anything unholy like that. The human brain is blessed with the capacity to imagine, so do not dwell.’

He paused and smiled a little to himself.

‘You know, you are a good kid, the villagers adore you for your kindness and help. I am sure the Lord will overlook your recent troubles with yourself.’

With that, he drew the sign of the cross in the air in front of him and said the prayer of absolution:

‘(…) I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.’

The week that followed was a blur. For every day that went, your focus on daily chores and routines was diminishing as the wet dreams were increasing in length and intensity. Your thoughts were preoccupied with…him. The six eyes were etched in your mind like an unholy vision. Every night spent in the chapel on your penance prayers was wearing you out and making you more and more susceptible to daydreaming of being ravaged by the male. You were imagining what he looked like, what his manhood would feel inside you…Every time you were dismissing these thoughts in a futile attempt to regain some sanity, they were hitting you twice as hard as soon as you lost your slightest focus. It was all a dream you were telling yourself…

It was a particularly dark night when you ventured back into the empty chapel after the Sunday evening mass. A part of the penance was to tidy up and blow out the candles, leaving you with only a couple lit at the altar near the main nave, where you usually knelt to say your prayers. At this point, you started to feel like maybe an exorcist would be your best option.

Your obsession with carnal pleasure and that demon or whoever that was that invaded your thoughts was becoming unbearable. No matter how many wet dreams, how much you touched yourself, and how much you repented and tried to push these thoughts away, your senses seemed to not even come close to being satiated. You knelt in resignation, the burning sensation between your thighs as intense as ever, wetness pooling between your legs at the only thought that was occupying your mind.

‘… and lead us not into temptation…’

but the temptation was only getting stronger. At that moment, you sensed a presence behind you. The already dark, sombre space suddenly grew darker. You turned around only to see the six ferocious eyes staring down at you. But this time, you finally got a chance to see their owner. You gasped at the sight. The demonic eyes and strange red marks on his face and neck aside, he had a fully human form. A tall, solid-built male with a huge mane of thick red-black hair. He wore an outfit whose origin you did not recognise, but it did do his figure justice. Apparently, he was a warrior of some kind as there was a foreign-looking sword at his side.

‘Greetings, holy woman’ his polite words were laced with scorn.

‘Greetings’ you managed to stammer in reply.

He was foreign-looking. How could he speak your language? He could apparently read your thoughts as he indulged your curiosity:

‘I am an ancient demon, and human language is a mere trifle to me.’

A demon, so your fears were confirmed… How did this happen? Did you somehow manage to summon him?

‘You did not summon me, you foolish girl. I roam this earth, and when I stumble upon something that appeals to me, I merely claim it as mine.’

His self-indulgent speech was making you nervous but also weak at the knees from anticipation.

‘The dreams when I touched you were not dreams at all, I was there with you, and I already savoured your sweet juices. I could have ravaged you many times over, but you humans are a special kind. Playing hard-to-get and pretending to be pious and oh so holy. But deep inside of you all dwells a beast so ferocious that it makes us demons seem like angels at times. But now, it is time you give in to me and to the beast inside you. I will fuck you right here, for your Lord to see. And he will watch while you begin to serve a new Master.’

His deep, melodic voice was sending shivers down your spine. It resounded perfectly in the solemn space of the empty chapel. His lewd words gave this medieval temple more justice than any sermon you ever heard…

You stood up in the last and futile act of defiance, but in that instant, you were pushed by the large male toward the nearest wall. His large frame dominated you and pressed you into the hard stone of the wall behind you, making you almost breathless.

‘Look at you, so beautiful and innocent. A flower ready for picking’ he was talking in a hushed, slow tone.

‘I bet you will not be as innocent once I show you what real pleasure feels like.’

His handsome face was now adorned by a smile, a vicious one at that, as the thought of corrupting this holy servant of a God so many worshipped, was making him crazy with lust. It was his work as a demon, to kill, enslave, turn people into demons, and corrupt women into the deepest abyss of carnal yearning. He enjoyed this, the power of it, as centuries went by and his strength grew, so did his desire for more conquers.

His hands were slowly starting to take possession of your body, gently, but deliberately caressing your face, neck, bottom, and breasts. He lowered his head and kissed your lips with the lightness of a falling rose petal. He kept on kissing like this down your neck and then back up to your lips again. This time, the kiss claimed more of your lips, and his tongue slowly snaked its way into your mouth.

Your mouth welcomed him greedily, and soon you were intertwined in a passionate kiss. He held your head in his large hands while kissing you, and when he let go, he helped you remove your clothes and went down on his knees before you. He cupped one of your breasts with one large hand and started spreading your swollen, slick-covered folds with the long, calloused fingers of the other. You were now so familiar with this from all the wet dreams that were not dreams at all. The coil in your belly was tightening slowly, and you were starting to edge when he moved to rubbing circles around and on your blood-filled clitoris.

He then leaned into your sex, blowing soft kisses on the outside of your pussy. His tongue started darting over your clit, flicking it lightly, eliciting even more moans from you. The warmth in your belly was turning into burning heat. You felt like soon you would be losing all control over yourself but before that happened, there was something you wanted to know. Without asking him directly about his identity you posed a more indirect question.

‘Don’t you want to know my name?’ You moaned.

‘I already do, y/n. And my name is Kokushibo. Remember it well because after tonight, it will be the only name you will need to repeat in your prayers.’

With that, he stood up again, and you automatically wrapped your legs around his strong hips. He was now carrying you in the direction of the altar, and soon enough, you were shamelessly splayed on top of it. Not lifting his burning gaze from your naked form, he started removing his own clothes, leaving you to admire what was slowly being unveiled to your vision.

If it wasn’t for the scars that covered his entire torso and arms, he might just as well have been a statue that came to life. His body was as if carved of stone, with skin deliciously stretched over the defined muscles. As he removed the last clothes covering his body, a black, skirt-like garment tied with ridiculously long belts, you could now admire his manhood in its full glory. It was already erect, huge, straight, and veiny with a bright red tip.

At this point, there was not a clear thought in your head, your lust fogging up whatever reason and decency that was left. All you wanted was him inside you. The tingling in your belly was increasing as if a swarm of butterflies was attempting to find a way out of your insides. Your craving was that of a beast, your inner muscles spasming and clenching on air, slick pooling out of your cunt, all in expectation of him finally granting you the fullness you so much lusted for.

And you did not have to wait very long because as if in response to your body’s call, he grabbed you by the hips and slid you closer to his rough ones. His cock was now perfectly aligned with your entrance and he slowly started pushing into your clenching walls. The sensation of being filled up like this was making you delirious with pleasure. Every inch he gained was adding more and more to your already peaking arousal. At last, he bottomed out, but before starting to move, he stretched out his arm and grabbed your chin with his large hand, tilting your head so that you could look at the crucifix above the altar. His lips were contorted in a frown, he was baring his fangs.

‘He is looking at you. And now, I want you to tell him who is your new Master. Say it.’

With that, he started slowly thrusting into you. You were moaning, but his grip on your chin did not lessen.

‘Say it!’

‘Lord Kokushibo is my new Master, my only Lord.’

You moaned out, your breath getting heavy. Satisfied, he let go and increased the force and pace of his thrusts. It was as if time had stopped, and there was only now you and him, in this sacred space, performing this unholy sacrament. Your juices mixed, your bodies intertwined. Every spot inside you was stimulated. You could feel the veiny texture of his dick rubbing back and forth on your plush and swollen walls. If this was a sin, then you for sure belonged in hell. Because this was something you no longer could live without. And when your body finally reached the limits of what it could take before being plunged over the edge and into the eruption of your orgasm, you knew that this demon would be your bane. You were indeed possessed.

As you were riding out your climax, he kept on pumping into you with unchanged force. It was now his turn to grant himself a release. He pulled you closer to him, changing the angle slightly so that his rough hips were even closer to you. The sound of flesh smacking flesh, the wet squelching of his cock pumping in and out of your pussy, and your lewd moans echoed through the sacred building. His eyes were closed and his head thrown back, a glorious fallen angel with a halo of black hair with red tips that in the dim light of candles made it look as if he was emerging out of the fires of hell. His thrusts were not losing any of their strength or speed as you started to feel another orgasm approaching.

‘Kokushibo, my Lord, I am…. going… to come again’ you managed to moan out in your hazy state.

He opened his eyes and looked straight at you with a dark, lust-filled gaze.

‘Then I want you to say my name when you do and tell your old God who your new one is.’

He said with a vicious smirk while increasing the pace and strength of his actions. Every thrust was sending you closer to your climax, and when it was time for you to come again, you moaned out loudly

‘My Lord Kokushibo… you are… the only God… for me now’

And with that, you climaxed, and your consciousness started to blur.

He leaned over you now, small droplets of sweat running down his chest, making his skin glisten in the dull, warm light. His breath was very heavy, and his thrusts were getting sloppy. ‘I am close now’ he hissed through gritted teeth ‘I will fill you up with my demon seed, and from now on, you will forever be parched for it.’ With a final powerful thrust, he climaxed and emptied himself inside you, riding out his high with a few slower thrusts at the end. You were so overfilled, that his semen was pouring out of you around his cock and onto the altar. This was sacrilege, a sin beyond repentance. Yet, you knew, that this was just the beginning of your journey to hell and that you would not allow anyone to exorcise this demon out of your life.

You were still lying flat on top of the altar, breathless and blissed out, looking up at the crucifix and then at your demon lover’s face, when he finally pulled out, resulting in the remaining semen flowing out of you shamelessly onto the sacred stone. He smiled at the sight and lifted you up toward his chest, landing one last deep, hard kiss on your lips. He moved the hair out of your face and caressed your back, you reciprocating the action, barely able to reach around his large torso.

‘Will you be back?’ You asked in a weak voice.

‘If you pray to me, I will.’

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Tagging my friends in this re-release: @doumadono @muzansfangs @sunsblaze @warringwarrioridiot @horror4themasses @cursetopia2 @misslauravillanueva @sunandflame

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hi!! I’m a little lurker who only did one request once and I forgot what happened to that one so I have a different request!!

can you…uhm…write a little thing about priest!fyodor who believes reader to be a god but reader just a normal human?

And like human is a virgin and…you know where I’m going with this.

A worshiper Fyodor taking his beloved God’s virginity by riding reader until he passes out from how many times Fyodor bounced on his cock.

idk I just can’t stop thinking about it but I don’t think I worded it pretty well and you have pretty words soooo…

I’m sorry for bothering you with this imma just

go back to lurking once more…

but if I could bother you again? Can I be 🕶️ anon please?

This is similar to something I have started long ago! On my old blog! But it got deleted along with my drafts :’)

Dom!reader x sub!priest!fyodor - reader is gender neutral

Warning: pegging (I use dick), use of condom (wow scary), no prep, cum play (licking), hierophilia, corruption, taking virginity, worshipping, fucking in a church, dacryphilia, handjob, cumming untouched, mind break, sub space, bruises, god - worshipper relationship

It happened the moment he laid his eyes on you. When you walked in, pass the grand wooden door and slandered through the small halls. That miraculous day was Sunday, morning to be precise, and you came in late for the morning chant. Everyone who sat on the benches turned their head to look at you, some with scorn, some with a mocking grin. You looked unfazed and went straight to the first row, keeping eye contact with one single person, the priest in charge.

That cold attitude despite the loud voices, the way your every move was as smooth and elegant as clear water. Your expression after sitting down, lips shut while keeping your arrogant eyes on him, as if to judge him, to attest to something. All that appeared divine in his eyes, superior even, it caused a shudder to run down his spine. He had never felt such a pressing sensation before, it was the first time.

You were staring at him so much, though he couldn’t read your intentions. Nothing, only emptiness. A gentle breeze, that brought forth comfort, turning into an icy storm capable of destruction. These words would be perfect to describe you, or how his view of you, because everyone else seems to think otherwise. Most of them scoffed about you coming in late, those little complains soon changed into more vicious words. Like a devils curse, causing the once friendly guests to sin.

“Dear father, may we continue with the morning prayers?” Among the low whispers of the devil, a voice akin to an angels emerged. “Excuse me..?” Fyodor murmured, eyes subconsciously darting to the direction of the sound. Once again, it was you who called out to him. A blush crept onto his cheeks when he noticed your piercing gaze, it was a little embarrassing that he dazed out there. “Yes, of course, pardon my inattentiveness.” The priest said, glancing at you a last time before focusing on his duties. Or at least he tried, because he couldn’t concentrate. The entire time he found himself stealing glances at you, watching you. This wasn’t like him, he couldn’t even recognise himself.

From then onwards, he found himself searching for your eyes or attention. It began with him asking around about you, then it gradually turned into him actively seeking you out. Your meetings became more frequent, and more private as well. One day, he found you kneeling in the confession box, boringly staring through the bars. He quickly positioned himself, then asked, “what brings you to me, my child?”

Seeing you up close was a new experience, he felt the tingly sensation crawling around his body again. “Father, I’m here because I believe you have something to confess.” You said with a voice coated in sweet honey. “Me, confess?” The priest mumbled, obviously baffled by your words no matter how he adored your voice. “That’s right, I can see. If you have something to say, do it now.” After hearing you out, he swallowed the lump in his throat, before smiling at you meekly and admitting, “I fear I’m not loyal to my god anymore.”

It took a lot out of him, a servant of god, to utter these words. Of course it wasn’t without reason. Simply being in your presence made him feel special and watched, as if those nonchalant eyes of yours were the watching gaze of god. He couldn’t explain it, it was a chilly feeling, but at the same time it burned him from the inside. “Speak, father.” You spoke, then he suddenly slammed his hands against the wall separating the two of you. “My lord, you don’t have to speak politely with me. I, Fyodor, this lowly subject of yours, am ready to serve you with all my heart.” The male announced, smiling at you in delight, cheeks rosy as he declared you as his new god.

Anyone who heard this would have thought he was out of his mind, staring at him with a face that screams the word disbelief. But not you, contrary to what one would expect, your expression stayed neutral. “My subject? Lord?” You questioned his choice of vocabularies, tilting your head to the side. “Yes, oh lord, please let þis servant worship you.” Then, to your surprise, the father you were supposed to confess to kneeled down and clasped his hands together, praying to you with a sickening obsession.

That shivering, oppressive feeling didn’t leave him alone, it gnawed at him and told him this was the right thing to do. He couldn’t care less what he was supposed to do or not, all that wasn’t important anymore. Since his deity has come down and granted him an audience, he only has to follow their- your orders from now on.

Whatever got him acting this way was all in his head, you were nowhere near of being a god. Quite the opposite, you were just a human like him, and you found his actions irritating. But you weren’t any better, you didn’t correct him, rather, you liked that desperate look on his face. You wanted to test his limits, to see how far he’d go for you. In truth you enjoyed playing god for him, depending on who you are asking this might be even more twisted than what fyodor was pulling off.

It started with you getting him to do bothersome stuff for you, sometimes it also became materialistic. Other times you would just converse with him and enjoy his company. He’d ask tausend questions about you, some trivial, some existential ones. Most of the time you’d put up with his antics, acting like a benevolent and nice deity. That’s when one day, one of his curiosities caught you off guard. It was when he asked you:

“my lord, do.. you want me to comfort you?” You stared at him with furrowed brows and scoffed “comfort? Where did you get that idea?” “You look stressed my lord, I wish I could do something for you.” Fyodor said, he was on his knees in front of you, who was sitting on a bench in a huge room. The room where each Sunday a crowd of people would come in for morning prayers.

He looked up at you with foggy eyes, hands itching to worship your body. How could someone be this divine and perfect? Obviously he was the chosen one, he was born to meet you. “That… I’ve never done anything like that before. Speaking of which, have you, as a priest?” You questioned, a tiny bit interested. “No, I kept my chastity for you, my god.” Fyodor answered shamelessly, then thought about what you told him.

If what you said was right, then he awfully wanted to give his first to you, and to be your first as well. To take the virginity of his most beloved god and to give, there was nothing more he could ask of. “Is that so?” Your warm voice broke off the momentary silence, then you continued with, “come here.” You tapped your thighs, wondering if he would do it. Did he believe in you enough to commit something that has always been taboo for him? A part of you doubted it, but you wished he’d obey you yet again.

The boy stared at your moving hands for a while, then did as you instructed, climbing onto your lap with reddened cheeks. “…like this?” He raised his arms, about to wrap them around your neck but decided against that. Then he bawled them into fists and kept them behind his back, before grinding against your crotch with his own bulge. “Nghh... fo-forgive me, hah I-lord, can I please continue?" Fyodor mumbled with squinted eyes, biting his bottom lip while he let his desires take over. You grabbed his waist, wrinkling his black robe and stopping him, whispering, "D-don't move, not in the church." Your conscious forbid you from carrying out such acts in a holy place. Sure, you provoked him first, though you didn’t expect it to escalate this soon.

He begged you with glistening, teary eyes, hoping you'd let him go further than that. It felt so good he couldn't stop, he has never even touched himself before so that simple gesture was enough to make him drool. "P-please." Fyodor groaned into your ear, his voice has never been this needy or lewd, it surprised both of you. Instead of stopping when you told him to, he continued to grind against you and whimper, "use me however you see fit, my lord, please let me he-help you." You clenched your teeth, use is a strong word. It’d be a lie to say you weren't aroused, so you sighed and complied with his request, "dammit, fine. Go and get my bag."

This was how you were going to have your first? Giving it to a crazy priest who believes you were a being above humanity? Who would have guessed…

You watched him get off with shaky legs, the spot between his legs was all wet and sticky already. Was it normal to be this sensitive? It's probably because he's a virgin, just look at him eagerly bringing your stuff to you. Once he came back, you fumbled around in your bag, luckily you always brought your stuff with you in case of a spontaneous one-night-stand. It never happened before, yet you knew you would need it one day. After you were done with the preparations, you opened a pack of condom, about to pull it over your length when he clasped his hand over yours. "L-let me do it." He proposed, hands shaking with embarrassment as he took slowly pulled it down to the shaft. You almost laughed because he was making such a big deal out of it, sweating furiously with an ashamed gaze.

"Do you find it dirty to touch it?" You chuckled after watching him for a bit, finding his reactions pretty amusing. "No-no.!! No.. that, I-I'm.." His face heat up again as he tried to find the right words. In the end he decided to just speed up the entire thing, and grabbed the bottle of lube that was in your other hand. Then he squeezed the contents onto your dick and spread it evenly, wondering if this would even fit. After a minute, you grabbed his wrist and scoffed, "are you done playing?" Out of nervousness and excitement he forgot to stick it inside him, looking away in shame before lining the tip up with his hole.

"HnnGgh.. this is h-hard.." he complained under his breath, trying his best to take you. You wanted to prepare him first, but he said he wanted the first thing to enter him to be you and not some fingers. Since that was what he wanted, you decided to let him be. That's what led to your current situation, where he's desperately poking his entrance with your dick. “NghhHg..! Ah, f-feels good..” Finally he managed to take your tip, already panting like he had ran a marathon. "Good job." You praised him, then caressed his soft thighs. They were covered by his clothes, which annoyed you a little, so you gripped his hips and butt before slamming him down your cock. "AhhHGGgNN.!? AahHH..! H-hurts.." He moaned out loudly, then slumped against your chest, fingers clawing at you for support.

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, his body shivered at the sudden impact. You were stretching him so much, he could swear his butt was going to tear. At the same time he was so happy, enjoying this to the fullest. His insides were working overtime, trying to accommodate your thickness and length, his rim clenching and loosening up with each inhale. He made such sinful noises when your hands squeezed his snatched waist, to the point you wondered if he was telling the truth earlier. After waiting for him to stop holding onto you like his life depended on it, you cupped his cheeks, making him look up at you. “Look here, fyodor, tell me how good it feels.” Then you grind your hips against his.

The movements were minimal, you didn’t make him ride you yet, only pushing it slightly deeper inside him. Yet the reaction was better than expected. He arched his back, throwing his arms around your neck out of reflex and whined, “ahHhH!! I-i love it, god, it’s so NGhh m-my insides are tingling..♡” You clicked your tongue, grabbing his butt to have a better grip and praised him, “so good for me.. there’s to turning back now, you don’t mind sinning for me, right?” He didn’t even think twice before saying, “I’ll do whatever you want me to..!”

After getting his permission, you told him to hold onto you tightly. Once he did as you commanded, you manhandled him and made him go up and down your dick. Your little worshipper wasn’t particularly short, rather, he was unusually light. He couldn’t even keep a straight face composure anymore, crashing against you once again as he moaned into your ears. Poor boy was crying due to the overwhelming pleasure, thighs trying to close together in a twitching manner and toes curled off the ground. Drool dripped down his chin and soaked your clothes, all while he moaned out your Titel.

“L-lord, god.. ah, please!! S-slow down.. ngHh, too much, too big..♡♡” his voice became higher with each trust, and bruises began to form around his hips because of your rough grip. “Didn’t you say I can do what I want?” You reminded him, licking your lips when you saw his melting face. How those beautiful water drops raced down his cheeks like soft rain against a window. His pupils even formed little hearts to match that pleasure-ridden gaze in his eyes. Most of his bangs stuck to his forehead, the rest of his hair bounced around whenever you made him ride you.

Then you said fuck it and ripped his priest robe, so that you’d have more access to his skin. “Hu-hUHmnn..?! M-my lord! AhhHNN!!” He shrieked when he noticed one of your hand on his inner thighs, pinching and groping his skin. “W-why there..? Nghhh…” Fyodor groaned, a tad embarrassed by the intimate touch. His deity was touching him after all. Alone the thought of you, his one and only god, fucking him and using him was enough to get him to the verge of cumming.

More precum leaked from his shameless tip, soiling the back of your hand. “M-m’sorry, so-sorry..ah, for being d-dirty..!” He immediately apologised, holding your wrist weakly and bringing it to his lips. Then he slowly licked off the pre, using kitten licks that looked so inexperienced and adorable that you had to tease him more. Sticking your finger into his mouth and snapping your hips against his. Fastening your pace, going rougher and deeper, rutting into him like he was some fleshlight. At this point his petite body won’t be able to take it! He’s so slim and vulnerable, it’d be a shame to break his mind and make him your toy, wouldn’t it?

“MhmMNN… ah, r-right there..Nghh, too f-fast, g-god! feels good~ ♡” Fyodor mewled into your ears, squeaking as he tried to shake his ass for you. But he was more on the passive side, letting you move his body however you saw fit. His sloppy and slutty hole was making squelching noises whenever you bottom out in him, all sticky with lube already. You were so caught up in the moment, you weren’t even sure what you were doing. All you knew was you wanted to touch him, to feel up his figure and trace the outlines of his body. Then you kissed his neck, causing him to whimper uncontrollably. “Hnghh… I- mHhm, l-lord help me.. I want more♡ something is coming out..!!” The boy gasped and smiled, grinning satisfied, the expression almost looked dumb.

You did as he asked of you, slamming him down onto your dick harder and trying to hit his sweet spot more often. The way it rubbed and played with his soft and warm walls made him see the light, or he was just about to blank out. “Nghh! F-forgive me.. for my siiiinnns..!! ♡♥︎～” The priest, Fyodor, your exclusive worshipper and toy servant groaned a last time before shooting ropes of cum out of his twitching member. His thick and filthy cum got everywhere. From his ripped clothes to his milky inner thighs and chest. Then he slumped down, pleasure and sensations he never felt before all coursing through him at once. He felt so good, this was the first time he felt this amazing. It must be due to you, because of your blessings.

Oh how lucky he was to serve such a kindhearted and generous god, who was patient enough to show him all this bliss. This was heavenly~ His body was still a shaking, twitching mess. The lingering ecstasy making him sob and moan louder. After giving him a gift this great, he will have to serve you even more diligently and wholeheartedly! He will make sure to worship and treasure whatever you gave him!

Even you had to catch up your breath since the session was so intense, panting a little while still admiring him. You were still inside him, and he was clenching down onto you without letting you pull out. Then you leaned back against the lean of the bench, signing when you realised what you just did. Now you were definitely going to hell. Fucking a priest in the praying halls, were you possessed? Right before you could tell him to get off, since you two had to clean up, he took off his clothes completely. “Huh..? Fyodor?” You whispered in disbelief. Sure, you ruined his robes, but why did he take them off?

It was the first time you saw him entirely naked, and he was as skinny as you noticed him to be. His nipples were all hard and pink, a cute colour in your opinion. A few seconds later, he re-positioned himself in your lap despite his legs giving up under him. Then, he slowly rode you, jumping up and down while wrapping one hand around his shaft. You rushed to stop him, saying, “wait a sec- shouldn’t we, especially you, take a break?” Seriously, for how sickly and pathetic he looks, he had quit the stamina? Instead of obeying you like normally, fyodor smirked obsessively and moaned, “G-god, forgive me for i-indulging..! Ahhh.. I’m so sinful, I deserve punishment. But..!! it’s just so good I can’t stop ♥︎♡.”

What…? Wait- isn’t this priest too slutty…?? It seems you’ll have to suck it up and wait until he milked himself dry on your dick ♥︎

[psuedosugu]

suguru still remembers your first day at jujutsu high.

pt 2 || pt 3

notes: this is entirely self indulgent of my fantasies and also kind of bad so bear w me chat

you were quiet, awfully quiet. you kept your introduction to a mere few words, clearly nervous. you picked your seat to the side away from the 3 other students in your class, despite there being many more to choose from.

truth was, you didn’t truly want to come to jujutsu high. you missed your old school and friends, and you felt out of place in this new environment. between, though, your parents who weren’t exactly pleased with you being a sorcerer, sending you to therapist after therapist, then eventually priest after priest when you started seeing these…things, these creatures lurking in the shadows, eventually giving up on any chance of having a normal child, and the chance of you accidentally harming people with your technique not knowing how to control it, this felt like it would be the best option.

suguru stared at you with interest from his side of the classroom. he had heard that you were extremely strong, especially for someone who had come from a non-sorcerer family. news of new potential students got around fast in the small school, after all. to be honest, he had been expecting someone else, someone more….assertive, he guessed. he gets it though. he wasn’t exactly the most talkative when he first arrived, either.

eventually, you looked over and noticed his staring. you froze for a second. did he need something from you? was he silently judging you? although it should’ve been the least of your worries, the thought made you feel sick to the stomach. his gaze held no malice, however, holding something else. he smiled at you, you softly smiled back, diverting your eyes towards your desk right after. shoko and satoru, having noticed his staring too, eyed each other knowingly.

after class ended, you started to pack up your belongings. “guyssssss….” satoru whined to his two friends, “we should stop at that new boba shop down the street.” “of course you want to go over there. does your sweet tooth ever take a break?” shoko paused, “we should invite the new girl to come with us.” suguru nodded and walked over to you. “hey,” he started, “me, satoru, and shoko are planning on getting some boba, wanna come?” you thought it over for a second. i mean, you barely knew these people, but maybe this was your chance to get to know them better, so you said yes and thats how you find yourself in a boba shop with the 3 of them, giggling at something he said, partially because it was funny, partially because something just felt light and floaty inside of you around him. maybe your new school wouldn’t be that bad.

[wandaspup]

Sinners

Summary: In a small town, you try living up to your mother’s expectations while encountering Wanda Maximoff, a mysterious woman and a childhood friend of your mothers. It leaves you questioning her intentions and your beliefs. 

Parings: Wanda x Fem R

Warnings: Fictional mother is an asshole

Author notes: Things to consider before reading: You are 19 years old while Wanda is 36. I'm not familiar with the bible so please do not take this seriously. It's only fiction.

Warnings will be added as I update more chapters! ♥️ Happy reading

Part 2

The handles are warm as you push the double doors open of the church, their hinges creaking softly in response to the intrusion. As the door swung apart, it revealed the dimly lit interior bathed in sunlight whistling through the skylight. Thousands of dust particles scattered around the beams, casting a glow. On either side of the church, the stained-glass windows painted with vivid patterns, painted their shadows on the polished floor. 

As you lingered behind your parents, hands clasped together at your front. The four walls of the church momentarily silenced the bustling streets before more people entered, quiet murmurs spreading across the churchgoers. People passed by to take their seats, some offered greetings to your parents, while others remarked on how you have grown into a fine young lady. Your family was well known for the small church gatherings they hosted, always extending their hospitality to the community. However, you could not shake the feeling your parents’ ego was involved, driven by their desires to keep their status. Your mother seemed intent on being the best, regardless of the situation, while your father followed her lead. 

Lost in your head, you hadn’t noticed the priest approaching your parents until he stood before them, a gentle smile on his lips. “Good morning, everyone,” he greeted, his voice warm and inviting. “I trust you all found yourselves well?”

“Certainly, Father Steve. It’s always a pleasure,” your mother affirmed with a nod, her hand briefly resting on the priest’s arm. Beside her, your father offered a gentle squeeze of 

Father Steve’s hand.

His eyes landed on you, a wide grin reaching his face as he moved between your parents. Your feet shuffled beneath you, a slight bow to your head as he addressed you directly. 

“My child, you are growing quite fast,” he remarked warmly. “I’m sure your mother and father must be so proud of you.”

You nodded, a faint uncertainty lingering in your response. “I hope so,” you murmured softly. Your gaze flicked over to them, your mother’s stern facade causing a tightness in your stomach. Before the tension could linger further, the priest politely excused himself to begin the ceremony. You followed your parents towards the front row, Father Steve took his place at the altar.

Your mother, focused on the moment, spared no mind at you, her hushed reminder to keep your posture straight and your head forward as you took your seat beside her. 

The urge to roll your eyes was strong, but you fought against it, instead clenching your fists tightly against your thighs and felt your jaw tense and your teeth grind together in frustration. A flicker of movement draws your attention. A woman sitting on the right far end at the fourth row lingering on the edge of your sight, compelling you to get a glance.

Father Steve gently echoes through the church, drawing your focus back to the front with swift precision. “As we gather here today, let us remember the grace and mercy of our Lord, who is our eternal Savior. With his love God watches over us, guiding and protecting us. We strive to lead by good deeds by following his teachings and commandments, we can trust him for his protection.”

“But let’s not forget we are human, mistakes are bound to happen. God will not judge for our mistakes and in his eyes there is always the opportunity for redemption. Through prayers we can seek forgiveness for our sins."

The final sigh of amen hangs in the air, marking the end of the prayer. You can sense your mother stares before she gets up along with the rest from the row. Your thoughts briefly drift to the encounter with the mysterious woman before refocusing. You got up and followed behind your parents, still you couldn’t keep your eyes forward as you searched for the woman. 

Approaching the altar, the chalice tipped gently down as you savored the taste of bitterness on your tongue. You move for the next person, your head down fixed at the worn out tiles. 

A sudden collision made you come back to reality. “I am so sorry.”

“No harm done, honey,” she chuckled softly, so husky yet smooth. “I’m Wanda.” She happily says and extends her hands for a greeting. 

You gave your name and took her offer, your hands met in a firm grasp. Wanda was undeniable beauty, her cheekbones formed natural crowns on her face. The strange sensation from earlier startled within, however you pushed them aside and ignored it. 

“Well I should be getting back to my parents.”

“Of course don’t let me keep you.” 

Everything about her kept you wondering who she was. Her face was so recognizable, you pushed yourself to remember where you had last seen her. 

With everyone getting their share, you navigated past the rows where your parents were engrossed in conversation near the doors. Your mother’s words echoed at the tip of your ears, reminding you how impolite It is to interrupt. So you lingered on the side, fidgeting with your hands as your gaze remained fixed on Wanda. You didn’t know how long you stood there before your mother called out your name, finally getting your attention on the third call. 

“You’ve been out of it all day, pull yourself together now.” 

“Yes, mother, I’m sorry,” you gritted out, feeling anger settle in you. 

You squinted as you emerged out of the doors, stuffing your hands in your pockets as you jogged down the three steps. Families and friends crowded outside while you watched, your parents, well your mother couldn’t help but throw her sentimental joy at people's faces. With a sigh, you kicked a small pebble across the ground. 

Just then, they’ve come to join you where you stood, thankful to be leaving. But as you all started towards the car, the small shriek of your mother’s voice halted both you and your father. You looked up seeing Wanda heading towards you, her presence alone twisting your insides. 

Surprised, your mother’s eyes widened as fixed on the red head. “Wanda?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Shaking off the feeling, you reassured yourself that you were just being paranoid about Wanda. There’s no way you could forget a face like hers. It’d be ridiculous not to remember meeting a woman with such elegance. Wanda appeared as a flawless Barbie doll, ravishing with politeness and beauty. Her demeanor seemed almost too perfect to be real. 

Wanda chuckled, her arm draping over your mother’s shoulder with a sharp but soft expression. “Surprised to see me?” She teased.

“You never told me when you were coming.”

With a casual shrug, she stepped back, her gaze briefly landing on you and your father before focusing elsewhere. You tapped your feet, swaying one of them back and forth by your heels. Something about her still didn't settle right with you. It seemed she knew your mother well, what a consequence. You observed your father and can tell he knew her as well. 

“Well, you know me. I always enjoy making an entrance. Arrived yesterday morning and managed to snag a room at that quaint little motel. Your town is absolutely lovely.”

Your father greeted Wanda with a firm handshake before turning to you. "This is our daughter," he said, his hand gently patting your shoulder, urging you forward as though you were still a small child. 

Wanda waved her hand, dismissing the encounter. “Oh, we already met in the church.” She gave you a little pat on your arm, leaving her hand there for a little second longer.

She winked and you felt goosebumps scatter through your body as you stood confused why this woman who you never met before besides a brief encounter was making you feel this way. 

“How about you coming over for dinner tomorrow? We’d love to have you.” 

Wanda nodded and clasped her hands together, a smile broke out on her lips. “I’ll be there.”

[yawnderu]

Heaven only gives you the chance to say the right thing once. Simon never once used his— not when he was tortured, not when he rescued hostages, not when he was the judge in front of an executioner— no, he saved those words for the moment he was holding his beloved's hands in his, looking down at her with tears threatening to escape his eyes.

''I've been alive for 11315 days, and I can tell you this is the happiest one so far.'' He offers you a small smile as he squeezes your hands gently, eyes glossier as he feels you squeeze back.

''Never in my life I considered the chance of romance. Never dated, never even thought about what having a girlfriend was like. My duty was to protect my country and my family, never letting anything distract me— until I met you.'' His hand goes up to wipe a stray tear falling down your cheek, looking down at your beautiful face before he went back to hold your hands. He ignores the whistles and cheers from his mates, though the smile on his lips is clear.

''You somehow broke down all my barriers. You took the time to get to know me, never once doing anything that was out of my comfort zone. You learnt my body language, how to talk to me, how to get close, and before I knew it, I was planning our future in my head.'' A small chuckle escapes his lips, looking slightly embarrassed to be confessing this in front of his mates.

''You were the reason I was extra careful in missions, more so than I've ever been, because I never wanted you to open the door just to find the old man holding my dog tags.'' He looks back at Price, who looks just like a proud father and gives him an encouraging smile.

''Thank you for bearing with me even when I was difficult. Thank you for taking the time to get to know me and thank you for showing me what love is. With you, I learned that home isn't just four walls; home is a tent in the middle of the woods, home is a cup of tea after a long day, home is being held in your arms when I need it the most— home is anywhere you're at.'' Simon sniffled, trying his best to hold back tears despite the way your figure was getting blurrier by the second.

''You showed me love, patience, care, and never once complained about me being difficult. I know I never told you, but I fell in love with you ever since I first saw you. I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind until I was unable to hide them any longer, and I know that if I ever did something right, it was falling in love with you.'' A single tear rolled down his cheek and he let it. There wasn't any shame on crying in front of you or his mates.

''I, Simon Riley, swear to protect you with everything I have. To be loyal, caring, faithful, honest, respectful, and kind. I promise I'll always be there for you. To listen to you, to make you laugh with my great jokes.'' Your giggle interrupted him, brown eyes shining with pure love.

''To cry with, to laugh with, to celebrate with. I make these promises in front of our loved ones, and I will keep them for as long as I live.'' He smiled down at you, leaning in for a kiss before realizing that he couldn't kiss you until the priest finished the ceremony. Instead, he leaned his forehead against yours, the look in his eyes telling you he will keep those promises forever.

A/N: little wedding fic I owed @connorsui , thank you for always supporting my content, your reblogs are always so much fun to read<3 and thank you so much to everyone, we made it to 3.5k a bit after I reached 3k<333

I'll start answering the asks I have pending!!<33

[dyns33]

Family honor

So Alfie x Y/N Shelby wife will be a little series now

There were several differences between a Gypsy wedding and a Jewish wedding.

The most obvious being that gypsy marriage was not recognized by anyone except gypsies.

But if it wasn't celebrated, you could walk past a priest, a rabbi, an imam or the fucking King himself, to live for years with the same person, under the same roof, with children, that would not have the slightest importance for the gypsies.

Alfie Solomons muttered several times that none of this was kosher, but he respected all the rites and traditions of Y/N's family. Even drinking alcohol, he who hated having a foggy mind.

"Already quite foggy the rest of the time, love. But if your savages of brothers insist…"

“The savages insist.” John said, giving him a whole bottle of whiskey.

“I can’t believe this asshole is going to become one of us.”

"Oh, Arthur, I'm touched that you accept me so quickly into your heart."

It took several people besides Tommy and Y/N to stop them from killing each other, when they were completely drunk.

Then they insisted on walking together in the horse field, the older Shelby brother ending up giving his blessing before falling asleep under a tree, making it clear that he would slit Alfie's throat if he did not treat his beloved little sister correctly.

The wandering jew left him to return with the others, who were dancing and singing. A perfect wedding, completely normal.

If he was offended when Y/N told him that the Jewish marriage was practically the same, he didn't show it, just made a strange sound with his nose.

There may have been less alcohol, and it was legally recognized, but the rest was a gathering of a lot of loud people, not speaking English, jumping around and congratulating them on their union.

Y/N, however, quickly noticed the biggest difference between gypsy marriage and Jewish marriage.

Although they had been a little surprised and worried by her choice of husband, her family had decided to give a chance to Alfie Solomons, whom they judged solely because of his actions. The rest didn't matter in the slightest.

With the Camden community, it wasn’t so simple.

“Your lovely wife is going to convert ?” an old woman asked, although it sounded more like an order than a question.

"Ah, frau Aldermann. It is true that I am such a pious man myself, it is a very important subject that my wife and I have talked about a lot. Isn't that right, treacle ?"

“Good, good.” sighed a man, patting his shoulder, not seeming to understand Alfie's sarcasm. "This is very important, especially for such an admired member. Perhaps your mother was of Jewish parentage ?"

She could have replied that she had not really known her mother, and therefore even less her family, but her husband saved her from this discussion, which he considered ridiculous, by inviting her to dance.

A true act of love, for him who hated dancing, in addition to suffering terribly because of his back.

It didn't take long for her entire family tree to be dissected in every way. The old harpies of Camden were like all the harpies of London.

The fact that she couldn't answer their question was almost a good thing. This mystery made it possible to say that if we could not verify that she was Jewish through her mother, we could not verify that she was not either. And everything always went through the mother.

The deplorable past of her father and the Shelby family could then have been forgotten.

The problem was mainly that her mother was not Mr. Arthur Shelby Sr. wife, which made Y/N a bastard. A gypsy bastard at that.

Even when she didn't understand the language, she guessed that people were talking about her. These looks and these laughter, she knew them well. Her brothers had suffered them when they were younger, before they used their fists to silence the ignorant and conquer Birmingham.

But she wasn't in Birmingham. Her brothers were not there, and it was her husband's kingdom.

Alfie wasn't the last to comment on gypsies.

"You know, I expected to have to sleep in a caravan for our honeymoon. It would have been terrible for my back, I don't know if Thomas took pity on us or if his petty posh side is to be thanked."

“They had a tent for us, but Finn threw up in it.”

"Fuck off, love. You're kidding me !"

“Then we would have danced naked around a fire asking the moon to give us happiness, health and above all a lot of fucking money.”

"… Yeah, you're totally kidding me, you little rascal." Alfie said, mock irritated, pulling her in for a kiss.

He didn't seem to notice that every little word spoken against her family and their traditions was beginning to weigh on her.

At least it was never completely mean when it was him. Almost innocent, full of prejudice and stupidity, but not crossing certain limits.

The rest of the community was not so kind. Many had not appreciated that the King of Camden, such a prized party, war hero, respected gangster, charming man, ended up with a girl like her. It must have been business, blackmail, or black magic.

There was no other possible explanation.

For several months, she decided to be the reasonable adult, remaining calm and polite, taking the blows as best she could. Tommy had taught her how to do it.

He had also taught her the pride of gypsies. Honor.

So there came a day when she was walking through the bakery, and some of the employees made a little joke about stealing and fortune telling, laughing like the idiots they were.

Normally, she would have ignored him. But Y/N was exhausted, and Polly's voice repeated in her head that no Shelby would ever allow themselves to be treated like this, so before they had time to react, she grabbed the hair of one of them, placing a knife to his throat.

"Tell me another joke about gypsies. Then I'll tell you a joke about Jews. Then I'll kill you."

The boy squealed, calling to his colleagues for help with his big, frightening eyes, but no one dared to move. Because they knew she would go faster. And even if she wasn't moving fast enough, she was Tommy Shelby's sister and Alfie Solomons' wife. Literally untouchable.

"Come on." she whispered in his ear. "Make me laugh. No ? No more jokes ? You're going to play the victim. It's funny, people who complain about being mistreated, then do exactly the same thing to others while thinking they're superior. You're all the same."

She didn't comment on the puddle under his legs, nor the little cry of panic when she released him.

Everyone stood still, watching her leave, and when she met Ollie's gaze, she knew she had just made a mistake. She only proved that she was indeed the savage they all described, the bad person.

Alfie probably wouldn't be happy when his right hand man told him what happened.

He did indeed seem to be in a terrible mood when she found him waiting for her in the living room, sunk into the sofa, indicating that his back was hurting badly, but that he would refuse to talk about it.

"Come, love, have a sit. Come on, sit down here."

Not wanting to act like a child, she remained silent as she took a seat in the chair he indicated to her.

This was obviously not what he expected, because he didn't speak either, staring at her intensely, hands crossed, displaying a small pout.

“Do you want to tell me what happened at the bakery today ?”

“Why ask if you already know ?”

“I would like your version.”

"I threatened to slit the throat of one of your workers and disrupted production. Do you want to spank me ?"

"Tempting. Why did you want to slit his throat ?"

“Unimportant.”

"Unimportant, uh ? Unimportant, love ? Because Ollie came to tell me that some guys were talking bad about me wife."

Groaning slightly, Alfie stood up just enough to push a piece of paper and pencil in her direction onto the table between them.

"Names."

“Alfie…”

"I want the names, treacle. I've already gone around the bakery telling everyone that insulting me wife and her family was insulting me, and I don't like being insulted. Names."

“You always make fun of gypsies.”

"Wrong." he retorted, holding up a finger as if that proved his point. "I do it when your brothers are around, because Thomas can be a little prick, and it's hilarious to see Arthur react like a mad dog. But I have nothing against gypsies. Lovely people. The proof, look at you. And look at me. The two most wonderful creatures our communities could spawn, right ?"

Despite all her strength, Y/N couldn't help but smile, which seemed to please her husband. He then placed his victorious finger on the paper, insisting on names.

If she had shown mercy by not cutting, this would not be the case with the wandering jew, king of Camden Town.

No one insulted his wife. No one looked at his wife badly, no one criticized her, no one tried to take away from her, no one thought of her with bad thoughts.

“Not even you ?” Y/N asked with a mischievous smile.

"Not at all. Now you brought up spanking. You brought it up first, love, not me."

“My brothers would be furious to hear that you beat me.”

"Don't tempt me, I can spread false rumors all the way to Birmingham just for the thrill of them all running here, and finding us…"

“You’re the one who deserves a spanking.”

"Ungrateful wife. Threatening me, under my own roof, when my back is killing me and I have just condemned half the city for the love of her."

The Shelbys never knew about their sister's difficult first months in Camden. Tommy noticed that he seemed to be treated with a little more respect when he walked the streets, but neither Y/N nor Alfie talked about what had happened before this outpouring of acceptance from the community.

On the other hand, Arthur noticed marks on his little sister's neck, and he tried to strangle Alfie, even after realizing that it wasn't what he thought, because it wasn't really better for him.

And Solomons reminding him that he was his brother-in-law didn't help at all.

[abbyromanoff]

ALL GOOD GIRLS GO TO HEAVEN

PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,354

WARNINGS: smut, sex in a church, “bad boy” Nat, use of pet names, fingering, really badly written smut, talks of religion, Christianity, insults of God/the religion, ‘good girl’ R, friends with benefits kinda, sinning, mentions of masturbation, mentions of cunnilingus, innocent!R, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Everyone knew the family that lived across from you. Their father, Alexei, somehow made the most in the family with a job he wasn’t allowed to disclose. Some assumed he sold drugs, others thought he ran a prostitution business.

Their mother who you found out was named Melina didn’t acquire a job, she was the more mysterious type. She didn’t talk often, but the other mothers stopped inviting her to their book club when she had mentioned her awards from the gun range; you didn’t even know there was such a thing.

Their youngest, Yelena, somehow always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone knew she was the cause of whatever juvenile act was caused but her father seemed to ease any tension with cops due to a hefty pay way. That’s what everyone thought, at least, since most cops didn’t seem to enjoy the family.

And then there was their oldest, Natasha. She was mostly called Nat by her friends, but a skank from anyone else. She was often seen with red bloodshot eyes that were presumed to be the result of weed. She drank like there was no tomorrow and always ended up in the same place as Yelena, an overnight jail cell. If it wasn’t her sister causing problems then it was her, always.

You really didn’t understand the gossip around the four, sure they were a bit of an odd family, but what was the point of judging if they were happy? You guessed it was because of their religious beliefs, when they first moved to the town and your father invited them over for dinner, he was appalled when hearing their lack of faith. The mother believed in a higher power, but her conspiracy theories about such a thing were what set your father off. The rest of them were atheists, that’s when you knew they’d never be allowed in your sight.

Even with your age standing at 19 years old, your parents had all control over you. It was exhausting, you just wanted an escape from their extreme rules. And that’s when you truly met her, Natasha Romanoff.

You later learned that both she and her sister were adopted when she was only six and kept their last names. They weren’t biologically related, but they loved one another as if there were.

You kept your odd friendship hidden from others’ eyes in fear that your parents would find out. Your dad was the priest and very well-known among the town, he’d be beyond disappointed if he heard of such rebelish acts.

But Nat treated you better than anyone ever had, and you were happy when she was near, you couldn’t risk losing that. Your only other friends were the ones your parents had introduced you to because of their acquaintance with the guardians of them, and they were more boring than watching clothes dry.

Nat was fun, she brought excitement and rush. There was one time when she snuck you out of the house to go to a party her friend was holding, you came home feeling more guilty than ever with only two sips of alcohol in your system. And her parents liked you, and so did her sister. They were more laid back, and you found yourself wishing you had the same treatment back at home.

Your parents had wondered what friend you had been spending so much time with, even coming up with the thought of a possible boyfriend. You quickly shut that down with the excuse that you were just so busy with studying for college, it felt sickening to lie.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ve all sinned at least once in our lives,” Nat told you when you expressed your fears to her, it only made the guilt rise. You didn’t even go to the confession box to report your acts in case your father was on the other side and recognized who you were.

“Have you ever tried going to church?” You asked while standing in front of the full-body mirror. You were in your pink and white dress as you placed your earrings on, your hair being done up nicely with a headband to keep it out of your face. You had a light amount of makeup on in order to seem clean but not too clean, you already had to deal with enough catcalls daily. You were very well-known in your area and the boys used that to their advantage, it was honestly tiring. But you had to deal with it, that was presumably the role of a woman.

“Are you kidding? They’d probably hang me if they saw me there. Besides, it seems boring.” You rolled your eyes playfully and walked over to her bed where she laid comfortably. You begged your parents to let you stay at a friend's house and were lucky enough that they didn’t question it when you said the name of their friend’s daughter.

You held her hands in your own, wrapping yours around her fingertips and smiling down at her. You leaned down, kissing her on the cheek and giggling at the blush that covered her cheeks soon after.

“Aww, I thought someone as tough and cool as you didn’t blush?” You cooed in a mocking tone, receiving a soft shake of her head.

“I only blush for you, Cherry.” She loved calling you that after she had kissed you for the first time and tasted your cherry lipstick. Of course, she didn’t put a label on you two and told you it was a friendly act, that everything you did together was saved for only the most important friendships. That meant you weren’t allowed to do such things with anyone else, not even your other friends. But she didn’t break that rule either, so it was only fair.

“Stop calling me that.” You whined, causing a dark laugh to erupt from her.

“But you’re my little cherry, so sweet and tasty.” It was a reminder of your first time shared together when her mouth found place in your most sacred region. She told you it didn’t count as committing adultery unless she was inside of you, so she was allowed to please you all she wanted.

You broke yet another rule when you first masturbated after a phone call with her late in the night. You felt so ashamed, you called her back while sobbing into the phone, little did you know she wasn’t grossed out, she was only smirking. She asked you to tell her exactly what you did, and when you made sure to add that you denied yourself release, she begged you to continue in hopes of hearing you cum for her. You did, just like you followed everything she said. It was almost as if you were her puppet, her toy, but you had never been happier being such.

“I think I should be the one calling you cherry with how red your hair is.” You muttered, running your fingertips through her soft locks and suddenly being reminded of the time you followed this exact routine while you were being thrown over the edge due to her tongue.

“Mm, that feels good.” She moaned, causing your breathing to quicken. “But don’t you have to get to Church before your daddy notices you’re gone, Cherry?” A small pout adored your lips as you had to say your goodbyes, promising to visit her later when you were to sneak out late into the night. You had started becoming an expert at such, but it didn’t rid you of the guilt and shame you held in your heart afterward.

“Sorry I’m late, Daddy, I hope I didn’t miss too much.” You said to the man, kissing his cheek as he gave you a small side hug. His lips landed on your head before pulling away with a smile.

“Nonsense, we were just about to start, angel.” Nat often made fun of you jokingly for your close relationship with your father, but you had just gotten used to the nicknames for each other. You didn’t seem to understand her teasing over what you called him, and whenever you asked she chuckled and told you not to worry, but you wanted to worry. You wanted to understand her and her remarks, all of her friends did, why couldn’t you?

You sat next to your mother and in front of a few people you had grown familiar with. You gave a small wave before turning your attention back to the stand where your Dad stood. He gave you a tight-lipped smile and thanked everyone for coming as you all started your prayers.

There was a creak suddenly heard as the doors to the Church failed to be opened quietly. It was a natural response for multiple heads to be turned, the priest faltering on his words as he tried to remain calm. It was Nat, why was she here?

She was known for causing trouble so it was expected when whispers could be heard amongst the room. She sat behind you and noticed your head not facing her, but you knew she was there. The people next to her scooted over as best they could without creating attraction or seeming as rude. Mark 12:31 ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ it was impossible to do such a thing when a delinquent like herself was right there.

You suddenly felt a small vibration against your thigh where your phone rested and quickly checked it in order to not get a stern talking to from your mother. It was from Nat, telling you to meet her in the bathroom in five minutes. You looked behind you discreetly, seeing the alluring smirk that covered her face.

Five minutes had passed by slowly, and Nat had already left halfway through the wait. She didn’t want it to look suspicious, nobody would notice if she was gone but it would cause a few glances if you were.

You told your mother your planned destination and walked over, making sure to remain silent as to not disturb others.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered out angrily, but you weren’t exactly mad to see her. You worried that someone may have picked up notice on the two of you, surely they wouldn’t have, right?

“Shh, I just wanted to see you, принцесса (princess).” She chuckled and grabbed hold of your waist, pulling you into her as she tried to sneak kisses over your neck. Her Russian always affected you, she was able to pick up on that quickly.

“Is it so bad to visit my angel while they’re at Church?” You sighed as her lips continued their assault, you were praying no marks would be made. How would you be able to look your family and friends in the eyes after that?

“You know, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since this morning.” Her hands tugged on the top of your dress which showed a very little amount of cleavage. She wished she could see more, but knowing that they were for her eyes only was what got her going.

“Really?”

“Mhm, was thinkin’ about how pretty you look in this dress, and how pretty you’d look without it.” Your eyes fluttered shut as her palm ran up and down your thigh, getting closer to the restricted area. She guided you to the sink where you sat on the counter, your legs subconsciously parting while she moved to stand between them.

“W-we’re in Church, Natty, everyone is right outside.” She lifted the end of your dress further up until it rested on your upper thighs. Your panties made their way to her eyesight as she gasped when seeing them, a smirk coming to place on her face.

“Oh, baby…is this all for me?” You shyly nodded with a blush adorning your cheeks. You felt so exposed, so open. But she loved you like this, it was her favorite sight to see.

“Yeah? You got all dolled up for me?” She removed her leather jacket along with her shirt, leaving her in a black bra and jeans. Her abs were on display along with her biceps, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and touching them, shuddering at the feel.

“Like what you see, huh?” She didn’t stop her teasing of your soft skin, forming a sort of obsession with how it felt in her hands. Your chubby thighs looked so cute, she just wanted you to wrap them around her head while she ate you out.

“You keep getting bruises and cuts, I don’t like you hurting yourself.” She grasped your chin in her fingertips, causing you to look back up at her. You bit your lips while staring at her own.

“I’m okay, I promise.” She kissed you with such passion, yet so softly. How she could do such a thing you didn’t know, but you knew you loved every second of it.

“You need to be more careful-”

“Hey, hey, there’s no need to worry your pretty little head off. I’ll try and be more careful, okay? For you.” Her answer satisfied you enough to let the topic drop and allow her to continue her pecks to your hungry lips.

“We don’t have a lot of time now, angel, we need to make this quick before someone notices you’ve been gone so long.” Her fingers toyed with the waistband of your undergarments while you spoke, dragging them back only to release them so it could slap against your skin.

Her digits were cold on your warm skin, sending goosebumps through your entire body. You clung to her body for support, just like you found yourself doing on multiple occasions.

“Please touch me, I-I want you to touch me.” She groaned in response to your worded confession. It was so tempting to just give in, but she wanted to hear it, she wanted to hear how badly you needed it.

“I’m already touching you, am I not?” You whined in hopes she’d understand your high demand. You could feel yourself soaking your panties the more she teased you through them, rubbing your clit in gentle circles before finally pushing the fabric to the side.

“Oh, you’ve made such a mess, baby! You want me to take care of it for you, hm?” You nodded as your hips shuffled closer to her. They were moving on their own at this point as you practically grinded into her.

“Be gentle, please?” She kissed your forehead after agreeing, trying to distract you and make you focus on anything other than the burning pain of her fingers stretching you out. It was only two, but it was enough to cause you to hiss out.

“It’s okay, it’ll feel so much better soon.” She reassured you, smiling when she started to hear low moans coming from your mouth. She started off slow, letting you adjust before increasing her pace.

“Nat- ah!” You let out a particularly louder whimper before she placed her hand over your mouth.

“As much as I admire your pretty noises, I don’t want anyone hearing them but me.” There was slight jealousy in her tone, but you were too enthralled in pleasure to care. If anything, it brought a sense of joy to know the hold you had over her. She was so enticed by your beauty that she didn’t want anyone else to have the pleasure of worshipping it.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous like this.” The sound of your juices sloshing against her fingers could be heard across the small room. She looked down at her watch and noticed five minutes had passed since you left for the bathroom, people had to be curious by now.

You could still hear the distant sound of your father’s booming voice leading the large group of Christians, it only brought a feeling of ignominy and arousal. It was so overwhelming to think that Natasha’s fingers were deep inside of you while your Dad, who held a deep hatred for the woman, was right next door. It was wrong, so deeply wrong, but it felt so right.

“Oh, God!” Her hand had removed itself from your mouth after a small warning, making your pleads now, once again, audible.

“That’s right, I’m your God, baby.” You grasped onto her shoulders as your legs wrapped around her waist, bringing you even closer and causing her to deepen further inside of your tight hole. She didn’t seem to care for the pain your nails caused to her skin, only welcoming it with a delighted hum.

“So tight and warm, you’re so fucking perfect, angel.” She watched her digits disappear before returning to her vision, causing you to follow her line of sight.

“You see that? See how well you’re taking me?” Words seemed to fail from escaping your mouth as a hard thrust from her fingers seemed to have found your spot, the coil in your stomach only tightening further at the newfound feeling.

“Natty, I’m gonna-” You forced yourself into silence when hearing a knock on the door, both of your heads snapping in the direction of the sound.

“Y/N? Are you okay in there?” You bit your lip when hearing your Mother’s gentle voice full of worry, turning back to look at Natasha who only grinned.

“If you want to cum, I suppose you should answer her.” You mustered up the courage to speak, but it ended up resulting in a high-pitched tone that only made the woman more confused.

“Yeah- fine! I’ll be out in a m-minute!” You listened for the approval that she had walked off and let you be, finally allowing yourself to set free the moans you had held back.

“Please…please let me cum, I’ve been so good.”

“If you ask me, I think I would have to say you’ve been everything but, cherry. I mean, letting me fuck you in a Church, the House of God, don’t you feel dirty? Or are you too drunk on my fingers to care?” The realization settled in, you truly were too hungry for her bliss, you were starving. You were a sinner, yet no one ever told you it felt so stimulating to do so. Maybe if you had known how good it felt you wouldn’t have been so pristine, you would’ve been able to remember an enjoyable time that wasn’t just spent with Nat. You’d be free.

“I like being your dirty girl..” It was near impossible to hear, but Nat was able to scoop it out. It made her falter for just a moment, only for you to then feel her grip on your waist tighten.

“You drive me fucking crazy, baby girl.” The room was filled with the stench of sex, easy to sniff out. Her palm was repeatedly brushing against your clit, only causing you to pulse more. You were throbbing, her touches weren’t enough.

“C’mon, make a mess for me, you dirty fucking slut.” The degrading name was what sent you over the edge, never had you thought you’d get off to such disrespect but here you were, coating another woman’s fingers while she spewed words of venom.

“Good girl.” She dragged out, letting you ride your high as your head hid in her shoulder. Your legs shook uncontrollably, the waves of pleasure crashing over you and forcing silent screams out of you.

“I want more.” She mustered out a small laugh that was painted over with her ragged breaths, it sent you a rush of excitement and fear.

“I’ll give you more later. But for now, why don’t you go back out there and try not to think about me too much, alright?” You nodded, stepping out of the bathroom and returning to your seat where you then realized the lack of panties covering your exposed body. She kept them for herself without a plan of returning them, you practically stalled in your spot at the recognition. You still had another hour until you were permitted to leave, you were so screwed, and she loved knowing it.

[edenfenixblogs]

okay this is a bit of a random question, and please feel free to ignore it for whatever reason! and please forgive any clumsy wording, i promise i'm asking just from curiosity and without any malice.

i know in jewish culture the mother is the one who sort of 'transfers jewishness' to the children, so i was wondering what would happen if a jewish trans man had a baby? would the kids be considered jewish or, because he's a father, would it be different?

lastly, i just wanted to thank you for all of your posts. i learn so much from you, and it always makes me smile when i see one of your art or tree posts!

What a great ask!!!! Thank you so much for your kind words!!!! It makes the stressful parts worth it. 😊🩵🩵

So, first off, I’m no rabbi or even a religious scholar. I’m just a Jew who likes being a Jew.

But here is my take that other Jews are free to add onto or provide sources on.

But there is no Jewish High Authority. There’s no, like, Jewish pope to sit around and let Jews know they’ve Done Jewish Wrong. Judaism is a cultural of mutual acceptance based on the totality of shared cultural wisdom and understanding.

So, a person cannot just decide “I’m Jewish now” and be Jewish. Jews as a community must accept them into our tribe after they’ve demonstrated an understanding of and commitment to our broad understanding of life. Jews also don’t have sects. We have different branches or streams of belief ranging from humanist to ultraorthadox, but we are all equally Jewish. We don’t even all believe in G-d. Our core values revolve around how we treat one another and are nuanced, which is why becoming a Jew is a process.

With that in mind, with the exception of a few very strictly outlier cases, matrilineal passage of religion is more of a guideline than a hard and fast rule.

I could be wrong as it’s been awhile since I learned this and may have some details mixed up, but I believe that the matrilineal passage of culture was partially instituted due to the frequent rape of Jewish women. As a community, we consider a child born to a Jewish woman to be as much a part of our community as any other member of our community, regardless of who fathered that child. Likewise, we take communal responsibility and cultural claim to that child. Someone cannot rape a Jewish woman and the take her child from her to be raised as non-Jewish that is an affront to us.

Other reasons I’ve heard for why Jews pass religion through mothers is due to equality. Matrilineal passage of culture is only one part of passing Judaism across generations. Jews get the religion from their mother and their tribe from their father. There used to be 12 tribes named after all of Jacob’s sons. But those were mostly scattered/lost over persecution and diaspora. Now there are only three (depending on how you break it down. It gets complicated LOL): Yisrael, Levi, and Cohen. Most Jews are tribe of Yisrael. I am tribe of Yisrael because my father is tribe of Yisrael. When you convert to Judaism you also become tribe of Yisrael. My mother is a Levite (tribe of Levi) because her father was a Levite. Historically, Levites played an important role in the Old Temple in Jerusalem as well as other culturally distinct duties ranging from everything from maintaining the temple itself, education of the Jewish community, singing in the old temple, serving as judges, and serving as guards of the temple. In diaspora and in times of strife in the biblical era, Levites also helped keep Jewish communities together and safe.

The remaining tribe is Kohanim. This group is believed to be directly descended from Aaron, Moses’s brother and therefore descended from all the priests of the temple in the biblical era.

It is possible that the Levites and Kohanim were able to maintain their tribal lineage patrilineally due to their status as leaders in early diaspora and therefore being able to maintain their roles in diasporic Jewish communities longer. I simply don’t know. But I do know that the culture is what mothers traditionally pass down and the duties and history of the tribe is passed down via the fathers. When both parents are Jewish, what matters is that each parent passes an important aspect of cultural identity on to their children.

But none of this is compulsory or set in stone.

And I will again say that my understanding of it all may be fundamentally flawed in some way, because of how unimportant it is to me personally. I mean, I think it’s cool that my mom can trace our lineage back so far. And even some DNA tests done several years ago have confirmed that my mom is descended from an actual Talmudic scholar which is fun to know. I think it’s cool that my ancestors were biblical nerds and judges and that my grandfather was a lawyer and that my skill that benefits the Jewish community during times of strife in diaspora seems to be education and outreach. I like that I personally seem to excel at issues related to judgment and education and community cohesion, because it is so in line with the history of my ancestors as determined by cultural norms as well as DNA. It also makes me sad that diaspora has taken away some of that cultural heritage from other Jewish tribes.

But it doesn’t actually have anything to do with how Jewish we are OR how important or valid we are to or within the Jewish community. These are rules/guidelines that were developed with the goal of maintaining identity and culture despite immense hardship. These are rules/guidelines meant to strengthen our community. But they were never (as far as I understand it all) meant to EXCLUDE anyone.

And here’s the thing: a slang way Jews have of referring to one another is as “members of the tribe.” Because beyond Yisrael or Levi or Kohen, we are all JEWS. We are all a member of the same tribe, and that tribe is Judaism.

Is the trans man Jewish? Have he and his partner (if he chooses to have a partner) agreed to raise their child Jewish? Then congratulations to them and their Jewish baby!!!

If one parent is a Levite or a Kohen and the other is another tribe, I’ll let them and rabbi decide how to sort that out. But even then it wouldn’t likely be viewed as a matter of contention but more as a fun Talmudic riddle to explore.

TL;DR: Patrilineal Jews are just as Jewish as any other Jew. And trans men are men. Beyond that, everything else is Talmudic nuanced debate.

[k-n0-x]

༺ ♱✮♱ ¨:·Something Stupid- Chapter 1·:¨ ♱✮♱ ༻

A/N- Hey everyone! I hope you guys are doing well. This story is a longer series of Lucifer Morningstar x reader where you’re Adam’s third wife. This story will have roughly 10 official chapters, but there will be shorter fillers which will be labelled as [previous chapter number].5. 

I also made a playlist in honour of this fanfiction :D

Navigation

Enjoy! <3

꧁🥀☽💫✶♛🦢♕✶💫☾🥀꧂ 

As you use your wings to sweep down to the sultry streets of Hell, you frantically look around for any stray troops, for them to tell you everything. Anything. 

“Where is this gods be darned hotel,” You think to yourself, along with other incoherent and unfinished thoughts.

But it all connects back to one hanging thought in the back of your mind.

Heaven is a Lie.

What happened to all that “Killing is bad” and “Murder is sin” bullshit that they preached?

This is a genocide. 

All of these demons, from young to old, didn’t do anything wrong, (well atleast, not in this moment)

Is it that hard for Adam to see? 

He’s been feeding you these utter lies this entire time? This news was a bombshell on you at the meeting when that lovely young girl, Charlie was pitching her idea.

Speaking of bombs, a piercing and explosive sound emits from the other side of the city.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

As you traverse the debris of the crumbling city, you spot two familiar faces amongst the face of fire.

One of which that you despised ever since that meeting.

Lute.

The other had her back faced towards the lieutenant. Her horns protruded from her scalp and her long blonde hair billowing in the breeze, unaware that Lute was about to strike. 

“LUTE, NO!” You put yourself in the face of the Angelic weapon, your wings disarming the troop general to avoid her striking down Charlie.

“Y/N? What in the actual living fuck are you doing here?” 

“I should be the one asking the questions here,” You point an accusing finger into the general’s chest. 

“Where’s Adam? I need to have a serious discussion with him. If you see any other troops, tell them to stand down,” 

“You’re not my bos-”

“I said. Stand. The. Fuck. Down. NOW!” You stare Lute down, and she glares at you back. 

She doesn’t say anything, but you could see her biting her tongue.

You turn to Charlie.

“Charlie, come on, we gotta go!”

“But, I- I don’t understand, why are you he-”

“Just trust me on this one okay? Go and make sure no one is in imminent danger. I will handle my husband myself,”

The Princess looks up at you, eyes flooded with admiration, trust, and hope as you soar back into action.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

You swoop in and out of  shattered buildings in fruitless attempts to find Adam amidst the screams and battle cries of both Angels and Demons.

“Adam? ADAM?!” You screech into the crimson sultry sky. 

Another explosive pierces through the sky from not far where you were barely a minute ago.

“Ugh, Lute I swear,” You mutter under your breath and your attention is quickly turned to two shadows attacking each other. You look overhead and see two figures; one of them is adorned with a priest’s garments (obviously, Adam), and the other… well…

Does not have a definable shape whatsoever. 

One moment, it has taken the form of a bird, and the next it has the figure of a snake.

One thing never changed though, a sporting white top hat stayed gracefully on his head in each form.

This ever changing specimen seems to be teasing your partner. 

“Adam? Haven’t seen ya since Eden,” He maneuvered between all of Adam’s punches.

“Gotta say, it really seems like you’ve let yourself go,”

Adam scoffs. 

“You, Lucifer, judging me? You’re the most hated being in all of gods be damned creation!”

Ah, that makes much more sense now.

The shape-shifting demon, finally setting on a figure, with a smirk, almost nonchalant expression on his face.

Dodging the First Man’s bolts of angelic power, Lucifer still doesn’t relent with the tomfoolery.

“Well, your first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer,” He places his index and middle gloved digits between his lips and drags them downwards, his snake tongue between them.

Ooof, that’s gotta hurt.

Well it definitely did. On Lucifer’s end that is for sure. One of Adam’s blows finally managed to hit him, knocking him backwards, and inadvertently knocking you out of your trance.

Fuck, you were supposed to be stopping this.

“ADAM!” Your husband turns to face you, looking from the ground, dumbfounded.

“Y/n?! What the actual fuck are you doing down here?”

“Why is everyone asking me that?!” You draw in a breath, irritated.

Just get to the point.

“Tell your little army to stop. Playtime’s over,”

Adam descends down to you, with disagreement written all over his face.

“Nah,” He smirks.

“What the FUCK do you mean ‘Nah?’ What are you, 10?” 

“Yeah, 10 inches deep in you,” 

Your face distorts into a one of disdain. Marrying is probably one of the worst decisions you made.

“You don’t need to make this any harder than it needs to be,” Then it clicked. An utterly vile, but devious idea struck your mind.

“Dear Adam,” you hum, layering on the most seductive voice you can. Both Adam and Lucifer look at you, both confused at your quick change of tone.

Well this is going to be the most embarrassing 30 seconds of your life.

Alas, you carry yourself with a more fluid demeanor, as his eyes follow you. Though as stupid as he is, he isn’t going to fall for your tricks that easily.

You snuggle up to him, your hand gently caressing his upper thigh, reaching right where the source of all manhood was. Stroking not only his dick, but his ego as well, which you were really going for.

You whisper in his ear. 

“Come back home darling~ you need some time to rest, hm?” You let your fingers circle around his tip. “I’ve been waiting for you for a while now~”

He smirks. Bingo. 

“Fine, but I’ll be waiting for you at home, love,” He says with a wild grin.

“Lovely,” you say through smiling teeth.

Though behind that smile, there is absolutely nothing worthy of mentioning.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

“Well, I sincerely apologise for my husband’s behaviour. Honestly, I would have stopped him sooner if I found out,” You bow to the group of demons.

Utter despair is written on the entire group’s faces. 

“What’s the matter? I know your hotel has been blown to bits, but at least everyone here is safe,” your tone is uncertain.

“Right?”

Charlie is the first to pipe up to speak.

“Sir, Pentious- he-,” Her voice cracks.

“Oh honey,” you turn to try and comfort her with your wings, though abruptly interrupted by a threatening cough from Lucifer, who was behind you.

You want to comfort the Princess of Hell, but you decide against it and turn to face the group. 

“I just want to say, before leaving, that I am on your side. I know Heaven is the real enemy and I will try to aid in any possible way, though right now I have to be going,” You look at each demon in turn, Lucifer for last, as he gives you a once over, as though you’ve intrigued him in some way.

“Well, erh, farewell. For now?” You give Charlie a tentative squeeze on the arm, and give Vaggie an acknowledging nod, which was returned.

As you spread your wings and soar back to heaven, you come to the realisation of what you’re gonna have to do when you get home.

Or rather, who…

꧁🥀☽💫✶♛🐣♕✶💫☾🥀꧂

Word count- 1,229

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 015: Eddie, Do You Copy?

Learning about, understanding, and loving all parts of Eddie.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 5.8k words

disclaimers — fluff, grief, flight of icarus easter eggs bc of eddie’s mom, ANGST, talks of childhood abuse/negligence/foster care, implied domestic violence, homicide, cancer, mentions of suicide, mentions of underaged drinking/drug use if you squint, lil modern-nostaglia moment btwn eddie and the boys (as a treat ✨), erica and wayne cameo yayyy

author's note: eddie is so boyfriend in this chapter 🫠 happy holidays, you filthy animals ♥️

“I put the record on, wait till I hear our song. Every night I’m dancing with your ghost.”

♡

Your eyes accommodate the first beacon of light as thirst creeps its way into your system.

6:38 AM.

Quietly chucking the covers off, you find yourself hobbling over Eddie in attempts to get to the kitchen. You can only hope that it doesn’t wake him.

Eddie responds with a low grumble. Followed by some mumbling and flailing. And then you watch as he shifts around, doing his best to return to the state of comfort he was in before his sleep was interrupted.

But if he’s anything like you — which you know for a fact he is — his cranky self is most likely awake by now and just pretending to be unconscious to avoid early morning conversation.

To put it to the test, you press a soft kiss onto Eddie’s forehead. He smiles.

You smile to yourself. Called it.

When you get to the kitchen, you seek out Eddie’s Garfield mug for your reservoir of choice. And as it fills with water, the bedroom adjacent from his captures your attention.

Steve’s door is open. A huge indicator that he’s still not home.

Judging by the energy levels of everyone last night, you assume it’s because they were still out partying. And for Steve’s sake, a part of you hopes it’s also because he went home with somebody.

Once you’ve got your water, you sneak back into Eddie’s room, using the newfound, natural light to really study it.

You would’ve thought it was an extension of Steve’s room, not Eddie’s. Everything’s a posh navy blue, something Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in if he had been anywhere else.

But the corner of his room is more like him, decorated with vinyls and a Crosley just like your sister’s. There were records of his favorite metal bands: Sabbath and Maiden. Anthrax, Metallica, and Judas Priest. And the unsuspecting like Elvis, The Doors, and Pink Floyd. Even country — both old and new, Johnny Cash and Chris Young — followed by a wide selection of Chicago blues and bluegrass.

The rest of his personality could be found on the bulletin board sitting on his desk.

Hand soap, dryer sheets, FUCKING DO PAYROLL

Eddie’s to-do list. You let out a soft chuckle.

Familiar faces canvas the board. There’s photos of Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. A picture of him with his uncle — Young Eddie with his hair buzzed and Uncle Wayne’s a subtle gray, most likely Eddie’s doing.

There’s a photo of Steve and Eddie at a Colt’s game. Eddie and Dustin. And Eddie with Will at what looked to be a D&D convention of sorts.

But one photo catches your eye the most.

‘MOMMY & ME: LIZ + EDDIE , 1994’

His mom’s name was Liz. You graze the picture of Liz holding a baby Eddie in her arms. On her face was a dimpled smile like no other, the love-filled look in her eyes having been shielded by her thick wavy brown hair.

But you didn’t need to see her eyes to know how much she loved Eddie. You see it in how she’s holding him, gently pressed to her chest while she supports his neck, his beady brown eyes staring at her with the same amount of adoration.

It all reminds you of Mom. You’re almost certain there’s a picture of you two like that, but it’s back home with Billy… evidently a forbidden turf to trek.

At least there’s still the memory of it. But like the bond with your twin, it’s also growing to be distant.

Your eyes and tears trickle down to another picture of her on Eddie’s bulletin board.

It’s of Toddler Eddie now with Liz in what looks like a kitchen. He’s standing on her feet and, judging by the motion of the picture, is dancing along to a song that was probably playing on the stereo. Behind the two of them sat piles and piles of CDs, all of which were all of the blues.

“She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

Eddie is behind you now. He smiles at you with a dreamy gaze, beaming at the mere fact that the two women who made him happiest could be visually processed in the same frame.

You gulp.

“Really, really pretty,” you insist. “You have her smile. A-and her hair.”

"Yeah, I look a lot like her," Eddie chuckles with a hint of pride. He grazes the photos of her in the same way you did. "She’s influenced me a lot growing up. Bet that's why my sperm donor can't stand me."

You carefully dissect his choice of words. There’s a lot of resent for Alan Munson on Eddie’s part. You don’t blame him, if what Billy discovered had been true. It’s the same reason you and him resent Dad.

Eddie fixates on the expression on your face. He knows why this is so moving for you.

“It never gets easier, does it?” he questions, hinting at your own ongoing struggle with grief.

You cross your arms and shake your head. Softly you mutter, “Never.”

You feel stupid. Eddie’s doing his best to navigate his own baggage, yet you still found a way to make it about yourself.

He pulls you close and wraps his arms tenderly around your waist. Eddie doesn’t have to say it to reassure you that your burdens are safe in his presence. You can just feel it. Two traumatized individuals understand each other in a way others can’t.

“Time just keeps going,” you speak again. “Everyone moves on and you’re kinda just…stuck in place.”

“World just keeps going. Grief doesn’t care about your plans when it blindsides you, taking you for everything you’ve got.”

You swallow hard as Eddie’s words sink into you.

Tragedy just feels so non-consensual. No one ever asks for it to happen.

You and Billy can’t even go surfing without thinking about Mom. Whenever you try you both always end up fighting. That’s why Max tends to go alone or with her own friends.

“I have to stay away from a whole genre of music because I’ll burst into tears,” you scoff in agony. “Billy and I can’t even listen to Iration without thinking of our mom.”

“Can’t listen to Muddy Waters without thinking of mine.”

You and Eddie sway in place to the tandem of your beating hearts. It’s a breath of fresh air knowing you have each other now.

After a while, he ruffles your hair and spins you around so that you can face him.

"But enough about that," Eddie attempts a smile. He rubs your shoulders and you hum in awe. "This is supposed to be a happy time."

"Happiness and despair can coexist," you sniff. “Duality, remember?”

Eddie smiles. It's a you're right kind of smile. "I was yesterday years old when I learned that."

He kisses your forehead and soon you two are in the shower, rinsing up and mentally preparing for the long day of errands ahead.

You’re the first to hop out and get dressed, eager to devour a bowl of oatmeal before tackling the day.

"Hey… babe?" Eddie calls out to you from his closet.

The pet name almost sounds too natural rolling off his tongue. But then again he is the owner of a strip club, and was married for a few years before meeting you.

“Yeah?” you call back, heart skipping a beat.

“Can you make me a coffee while you’re out there?” he requests. “The usual black drip coffee with some hazelnut? Please and thank you.”

“Of course, hun.”

You can get used to this.

So you make your way back out into the living room and kitchen shortly after, practically skipping. But the person you see in the kitchen — with tired eyes and a bowl of his own oatmeal in hand — stops you in your tracks.

"Morning, Hargrove," Steve responds.

You're so dumb. You've gotta start realizing that when you sleep with one of them, the other may pop in at any minute. After all, it’s their townhouse.

As frozen in place as you are, you do your best to shoot Steve a shy little wave. Again, the look on his face indecipherable.

"Morning..." you pathetically respond.

Steve eventually grants you a wave back. He pokes around at his oatmeal while you make your way over to the fridge, your cheeks flushing a timid red as you do so.

You move in a way that seems like you were way too conscious of your actions. Even Steve notices. But he keeps trying to eat, his spoon clinking against his bowl as he intermittently clears his throat, all an attempt to fill the void of silence.

"Did you have a fun night?" you question. "You know... bar-hopping."

"Yeah, I did," he replies. "Argyle had to get cut off cuz he was being real extra with it."

"Oh geez."

"I know."

“How was Max?”

“She was fine,” Steve shrugs. “The bars use the same 21+ wristbands Hellfire does so we were able to sneak her in no problem. Chrissy made sure she got home safe. The girls were just stoked they finally got to have a carefree night.”

“That’s so good,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Yeah,” he nods in agreement. “I’m really happy for them too. Seems like they needed it.”

Finally, your friend decides to address the elephant in the room.

"We uhh..." he begins. "We should probably end what we have going on here. Just so no one gets hurt."

“I think that’s a smart idea too,” you mumble as you nod.

You make your way over to Steve, stunned that he doesn’t shy away from you when you invade his personal space. Instead he leans into you, opening up his lap so you can maneuver between his legs.

You know, like how friends usually talk.

“It was fun while it lasted…”

"I know. I just feel so bad..." you choke, rubbing his arm softly. "I’ve wasted your time."

"I wouldn't say that," Steve refuses, shaking his head rapidly. He touches you back, running his hand across your arm. "I've thoroughly enjoyed your company."

Eventually his hand intertwines with yours.

There’s a heaviness in the room and something tells you that Eddie is near, looming at the foot of his room so that your business with Steve remains uninterrupted. He knows there’s some dust that still needs to settle. And he will linger until it does.

"You helped me get out of a really dark place," Steve admits. "And Eds too, I'm sure."

You look back towards Eddie's room.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall for him,” you say. “It just…happened. The connection, i-it’s...”

“I know…” Steve soothes you. “Been pickin’ up on that for a while. If you think I’m blaming you, I’m not.”

Steve urges you to meet his gaze again. And when a teardrop falls from your eye, he uses his thumb to wipe it away. Tells you to stop, before he too starts crying.

"This is... a huge step for him," Steve manages a grin. “I don’t think you realize, Shy Girl.”

"Yeah, I bet," you nod. "After Isabelle..."

"Yeah, Isabelle and everything else that dude's got going on," he confirms. "This is really good for Eddie. I can tell. It’s why I think it’s best that we part ways.”

Steve eventually does cry too, but it’s a rather suppressed one. The both of you take turns wiping each other’s tears, embracing the presence of each other for just a short while longer before needing to distance yourselves indefinitely.

You’re never going to forget Steve Harrington. His charm. His integrity. His everlasting devotion to the ones he loves most, and how he’d — time and time again — go to the ends of the earth for them. A noble soul in the highest regard. A true king.

“Thank you for being so kind,” you say to him. “You made my first week in Indiana a lot less intimidating. I hope you’ll still be around.”

“Of course I’ll still be around,” Steve chuckles. “Look at our friend group. Look at where I live.”

You share a laugh with him again.

“Ain’t no getting rid of me that easy, Hargrove.”

“I can sure try though, right?”

“Now why would you do that?” he banters sarcastically, chuckling into you.

He kisses your cheek softly one last time. Finally, Eddie’s door swings open, prompting you and Steve to asunder from one another.

“RISE AND FUCKING SHINE!” Eddie announces his entrance. “Both my soul and thine.”

You get out of Eddie’s way so he can go over and hug Steve good morning. Eddie then breaks the hug with a peck on the cheek and rough slap to Steve’s ass. Steve winces but you can tell he enjoys it.

“Mwah!” Eddie cheers. “Love you, babyboy. What you got going on today?”

“Oh, just gonna work on the online biz for a bit,” Steve mumbles as he ushers his hands through some paper. “Then ’m gonna start recruiting peeps for my other new job.”

“I forgot you dropship now,” Eddie says. “How’s that going?”

“Really fucking good,” Steve smiles. “I shouldn’t count on it too much though. It’s why I also have Newby’s. Speaking of which…”

Steve hands you a flyer. You take it from his hands.

NEWBY’S COFFEE ROASTERS: Even Superheroes Need Coffee!

Steve explains to you that a new coffee shop is taking over Family Video’s old suite. The owner grows his own coffee beans and all syrups are organically made from Hawkins locals. And since they’re a Mom and Pop shop, they were really going to need some help.

“If Maxine is still looking for a job, she’s more than welcome to apply,” Steve says. “We’re gonna need baristas. And we’ll be coworkers so whenever she’s on, I can drive her to work.”

“That sounds like an awesome gig for her!” Eddie pitches in. “Free coffee for employees too, I’m guessing.”

Steve nods at Eddie’s remark.

“That’d be amazing,” you blush. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“Thank you, Stevie,” Eddie parrots you. You elbow him playfully.

“Yeah, anything for you guys. I’ll put in a good word for her to Bob. He’s the owner. Great guy.”

“And what about this owner, huh?” Eddie chimes in. “Hope you can pull some strings and snag me some of those magic beans as well. I’m gonna need it. I also don’t mind paying full price cuz it’s goin’ to Newbs.”

“T’yeah with your job? You can have all the beans you want.”

“Mm, speaking of which,” Eddie scoffs as he stares at the time on his Apple Watch. “It’s almost time.”

Steve imitates Eddie’s gesture. Your eyes dart between the two of them, confused about the context of the whole ordeal.

“What are you guys-” you begin.

“Ah, buh-buh!” Steve stops you. “Wait for it…”

You look at the time on your phone to feel some sort of involvement as well.

7:59 —> 8:00

Eddie’s phone rings.

"An everyday thing," Steve tsks, shaking his head, resuming his breakfast as he does so.

"First problem of the day," Eddie looks at you. "It’s always something with Hellfire. From the moment the day begins...Yello?"

It’s Lucas. Sinclair never really calls unless it’s a dire situation, so you listen closely, doing your best to make out what he’s saying on the other line.

"I can't come in tonight,” is what it sounds like.

"Uh, why the fuck not?" your man demands. He places a sassy hand on his hip. "We need you for front of the house."

"Erica's sick and my car is in the shop."

"I'll pay for your Uber, you're coming in."

"I think it's covid. I don't wanna spread it to anyone if l've been exposed."

"It's not fucking covid, you guys have been jabbed more times than I can count for school."

The two continue to bicker back and forth like they’re brothers. Steve excuses himself from the narrative, going over to the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

You watch Eddie as he lights up a pre-roll, taking a frustrated drag from it while he listens to Lucas’s, probably bullshit, excuse.

Eventually there’s a scuffle on the other line. Something something, “GIMME THE DAMN PHONE” followed by a “NO” followed by a “PHONE. NOW”. Eddie’s drags from his blunt grow increasingly slower.

Then another person speaks. The voice belongs to a girl. She sounds slightly younger than Lucas. And she sounds sick. And angry.

"Listen here, Ed-NERD Alan Munson," the girl hisses sassily. " I KNOW I did not just hear you tell my brother that he is coming in even when HE TOLD YOU why he can't. It's giving desperate. It's giving exploitation of your employees. If you want my brother to come in for a half shift at your stupid gentlemen's club then you best pull up to our residence, YOURSELF, with them spicy chicken wings level Creeping. Death. My tongue? It needs to be on FIRE. My eyes? They need to be burning from the temperature and sauce. My sinuses? BOYYY, you better be-LIEVE they oughta be SO CLEAR, I could cough up a loogie, SPIT IT OUT THE WINDOW, and have it smack you RIGHT UPSIDE THE HEAD SO HARD you won’t even THINK about forcing my brother to do something he isn’t comfortable doing again. Keep trying me, motherfucker. THE FUCK WRONG WITCHU."

Steve is flabbergasted. Eddie's mouth is wide open. You would’ve thought Lucas’s sister was on speakerphone but she wasn’t.

You're scared of Erica Sinclair. And so is Eddie, the way his eyes widen at her spiel. If Lucas's sister ever got into a heated argument with Billy, Billy would go home crying.

“And some sweet potato fries," she adds softly. "Please. Do we have a deal?"

"At your service," Eddie deals her a salute through the phone, even though she can't see it. "Anything Applejack wants, she gets. I'll be over after my Meijer run."

"As you should, sir."

Eddie turns to you after he hangs up the phone. "Don't ever own a business."

——————— 🛒—————

“WE GROW UP AND MOVE AWAY... The seasons pass, but the monsters stay.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Hellfire is Eddie’s baby. The man lives and breathes that strip club.

As much as you’ve already harbored that suspicion, you didn’t realize his work-life balance was practically non-existent. Running errands. Frequent call-outs. Always having to prepare for the unexpected. But that’s the price one pays for owning a business. It also only seems to get harder and harder when you’re a handsome business man like Eddie, someone with the drawing power like that of a 13,000 gauss magnet.

“Mike to Munson, do you copy?”

You and Eddie have hit the road now, ready to start your errands run before your shift begins. As Eddie drives, he has you hold his phone up for him while he speaks to the boys in their group FaceTime call.

“Copy,” Eddie responds. “Thank you for covering ground, dear Paladin. It is because of you we are no longer… short staffed.”

God, they’re such dorks. You’d cringe if Eddie didn’t have the sex appeal of a Roman god.

“It’s the least I can do,” Mike insists. “Taking inventory as we speak. We need more ground chili and pop cans. Cola and Fanta, please. When you go to Meijer.”

“Done deal,” Eds nods. “Who’s doing side quests?”

“Me!” Will chimes in. “Doing silverware, stainless steel, and just helping Jonathan open up the bar.”

“Thank you, Byers-squared.”

“And I’ll sweep and do windows,” Dustin adds. “We’ll figure out the front house situation as it unfolds. Gonna be a little late. Getting gas.”

Eddie places a firm palm over your hand. He smiles at you when you look over.

“Running errands with Shy Girl, we’ll see you soon.”

“Pulling in now. Over.”

“Us too. Over.”

“Over and out, boys.”

————- 🚐———-

After your Meijer run, you and Eddie stop by CVS for Wayne’s medications and the ‘morning after’ pill. And shortly after that, you two haul ass to the other side of town to scoop up Nina.

Eddie gives the young dancer a ride to work almost every day. He also smokes her out before the shift, evident by her waltzing in stoned out of her mind all the time. It brings you peace knowing the whole story now, and that there truly is nothing more to it than that.

“Your boyfriend really needs a new car,” Eddie huffs to Nina as she climbs into the backseat. “Been telling him that shit’s on it’s last good tire.”

Figuratively and literally. The 90s Buick that you caught sight of shortly before Nina shuffled in can only be described as a lost cause. Nina knows it too, the way she scowls at the thing.

She tsks as she clicks her seatbelt in place.

“Duh, Eds. What do you think I’m saving up for?”

Eddie holds up an eighth.

“I can think of a few things,” he chuckles. “I take it you’re a fan of all things eco mode.”

“Hey, it’s 2022, of course we’re going green.”

Eddie grins. “I like how you think, sweetheart.”

Nina looks over to see who’s in the front seat. Her eyes glimmer when she realizes it’s you.

“Oh, hey Shy Girl!” she cheers.

You smile at her contently. Securely.

“Hey, Neens.”

Eddie starts up his van once again.

“Alright everyone,” he says as he shifts gears. “Hold onto something. We’re on a tight schedule so expect some Eddie Stops.”

“Not this again,” Nina mutters.

“Oh boy…” you add.

SKRRRT!

———— 🏠 ————

After dropping both Nina and the groceries off at Hellfire, you and Eddie set out to Forest Hills Trailer Park to visit his infamous Uncle Wayne.

“Wayne’s the man,” Eddie boasts as he drives on. “Taught me how to fish. Somehow taught me how to drive. Automatic and stick.”

He laughs at that one.

“Even took me out of the foster care system when I was 16. I lived in his old room for years while he took the pull-out couch in the living room.”

“Foster care?” you echo as he nods. “He was tired of you jumping from home to home?”

“Nah, I just kept running away,” Eddie cackles. “If a kid was ever in the police station for something, nine times out of 10 it was probably me. I was stressing way too many people out, Uncs probably felt bad for them.”

“But he also loves you, I bet,” you grin. “You’re his nephew, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles too. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Eddie pulls into an empty dirt road just yards from the estate. You two climb out of the van together, slamming the doors in unison.

Eddie leads you up the stairs by the hand, then uses his other one to wave at old neighbors close by.

“Hey y’all! How ya doin’?” he exclaims. He lowers his voice when he speaks to you. “Those are the Johnsons. Their sons were frequent customers of mine in high school.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Eddie waves to another pair of neighbors.

“And those are the Jacobsons. I bought their sons alcohol their senior year for homecoming. Buncha lightweights though. Wouldn’t recommend.”

“Well aren’t you a hero,” you jest.

“Hey, someone’s gotta pay the bills,” Eddie shrugs, half-jokingly. “You would think 40 years at The Plant gave you a decent insurance plan but that wasn’t the case. Had to help Wayne out for a fat minute. Still do every now and then.”

Eddie shifts closer to the door and gives it a couple knocks. He leans his head towards the doorframe, placing his lips just inches away from the chipped, painted wood.

“Wayne Munson,” Eddie bellows in his playful, deep voice. “It’s your friendly neighborhood pharmacist here. I’ve come with your percs, your piss pill, and your Motrin.”

Percocet and Motrin.

Two very strong pain killers. Hearing those names send chills down your spine. Those are the same meds Mom overdosed on when Billy found her.

But given Wayne’s circumstances, it’s not too much of a concern. According to what Eddie has told you, his uncle had just retired and is very frail. Heavy machinery and long hours can do that to someone. Just constant, chronic pain.

The door swings open and you hear Eddie greet Wayne like a grateful man would greet his dad. “Hey, Old Man! How are you?”

“Hello, there my boy. Agh, watch it. ‘s hurtin’ again.”

It didn't seem like anyone was at the door when you look over. But that was because you were looking about two feet too high.

Your eyes travel to the level at which Eddie bends down and there you see Uncle Wayne, having wheeled himself to the door to greet Eddie with a warm hug.

Oh this goes deeper than you thought.

A nose cannula. Yellow grippy socks. The wheelchair that housed his thin, fragile body. The navy blue Pacers beanie that concealed the fact that the man had very little hair.

Wayne’s face was extremely chiseled in, deeming him malnourished and underweight. The bags under his eyes that drooped heavily against his sockets took up a good portion of his face — nearly half.

You look at the place behind him. His trailer had lots of rails installed, Ensure protein shakes for adequate nutrition, and the pull out couch was set up to look like a bedroom, with a collapsible dresser right beside it that was nearly lost in a sea of orange medicine bottles.

The realization nearly knocks the wind out of you.

Wayne is sick. He almost looks terminal.

It feels like the ground had opened up and swallowed you whole. Your knees feel wobbly like gelatin, but Eddie is too busy reuniting with his father figure to notice. When he turns back around, he pulls you into him, with the biggest smile on his face.

“There’s uh, someone I want you to meet,” Eddie says to Wayne, his cheeks now a deep shade of pink. “This is Shy Girl.”

“Shy Girl,” Wayne smiles the same bright smile that Eddie has. “So you’re the THEE Shy Girl that my Eddie’s been rambling to me about. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sweetheart.”

You meet Wayne where he’s at, shaking his cold hand at eye level and giving him the warmest smile you can.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Munson.”

“Mr. Munson,” Wayne smirks cheekily. There’s a hint of who he used to be when he does that. He was most likely a firecracker just like Eddie, evident by how the two start poking at each other in a teasing manner. “Didn’t realize we were at a business meeting. In that case, we shall not waste any time. You and Eddie can come on in now, Miss Hargrove.”

Butterflies form in your stomach. You never told Wayne your last name.

And soon you’re in Wayne’s trailer, Eddie’s old home before he grew his wings and left the nest. A bittersweet energy floods the room. It only becomes more prominent when you see Eddie and Wayne holding hands as they make their way inside.

“Welcome to my office,” Wayne proceeds, carrying on with the banter. “I’ve got some tea in the cupboards, as well as some stale saltines because this one over here thinks I should watch my sodium intake. You’re more than welcome to help yourself.”

“Thank you so much,” is all you’re able to say.

“No worries, doll.”

Wayne darts his gaze back over to Eddie. “Anywho. Now that the formalities are over… son, I need to take a shit.”

The same dry humor too. You giggle and glance over at Eddie while he grimaces at Wayne in annoyance. But, since it’s not his first rodeo, he obliges, unlocking Wayne’s wheelchair to wheel him over to the commode that was concealed behind a DIY curtain.

“Did you do your exercises today?” you hear Eddie ask him.

"I tried. Got tired ‘bout halfway through.”

“What are your oxygen levels looking like?”

“Satting 88 percent without my oxygen. 93 percent on three liters.”

“That’s what we like to see. Good job, baby. I’m proud of you.”

You stand off to the side, giving Wayne as much privacy and dignity you can throughout this very intimate ordeal.

While Eddie is away with him, you keep yourself distracted with Wayne’s mug collection, as well as the array of trucker hats that decorated one of the four walls. You take a look at what’s on the TV: The Price is Right is just about to go on a commercial break. And on the coffee table rested an assortment of dated magazines, all going back to as early as 2008. Ah yes, recession core.

Within a few short moments, Eddie comes back out. You study him as he makes his way to the kitchen to wash his hands, making faces at the friendly neighborhood cats who liked to make themselves at home on the porch.

“Anyways!” Eddie exclaims. “I’m gonna start making Erica’s wings cuz we got everything here.”

He starts back over to you.

“But before I do, want me to show you my old room? It’s like a huge time capsule. Wayne hasn’t touched it since I left.”

You can barely meet his eyes. Eddie is acting way too normal about this. Or maybe you’re too dramatic.

He sees you frowning, thinking.

“…You okay?” he attempts with you.

"Eds... I didn't know," you whisper softly.

But Eddie smiles a bit. "That's okay. I initially didn't want you to know."

"How bad is it?"

"Stage 3. Lung cancer."

"How long has he had it?"

"Siiiince… March of 2020?” Eddie recalls. "We initially thought it was covid because of all the pulmonary stuff..."

He gestures around his own lungs.

"So what started out as a — rather intimate — nose swab turned into a biopsy that turned into getting a team of specialists….”

He glances over at Wayne to make sure he’s still okay.

“To having uncomfortable talks with the case worker about...exploring other options... And then to me being his full-time caregiver."

"March of 2020..." you recall. "Isn't that the same time you and Isabelle got divorced?"

"We were finalizing it..." Eddie corrects you. “But that’s neither here or there.”

“And Hellfire?”

“We were struggling for a bit not gonna lie,” Eddie chuckles. “It was during the start of covid and no one wanted to leave the house. Even when the babes were smoking hot.”

Holding up a palm, you stop him from explaining any further.

“So let me get this straight,” you state. “Your piece of shit dad UNALIVED your mom in cold blood when you were a kid, your father figure has cancer. You somehow manage to care for him full-time all while basically living at Hellfire, your business that your ex wife tried to SABOTAGE; which led to you getting arrested and released on bail up until your trial where you were then proven NOT GUILTY. But even then, your reputation still remains slightly tainted because almost everyone in Hawkins is a narrow-minded, self-righteous prick who weaponizes religion to get an upper hand? And they know you’re an easy target so that’s exactly what they did in this case, making your life and Wayne’s a living hell when it was the last thing you two needed at the time?”

“It be like that sometimes.”

Eddie flashes you a sarcastic, ‘I’m alive’ peace sign. He’s not helping.

Your heart just about shatters.

Eddie has suffered so much. But he hides it so well with his never-ending sarcasm and Munson magic.

And to think all of this — Hellfire, Wayne, and divorcing Isabelle — went down a couple years ago. He still had his childhood to sort through. If that's even plausible.

“It’s also kinda why Chrissy and I were screwing around,” Eddie adds, snapping you out of your thinking. “Apparently I was constantly depressed and she wanted to keep me distracted and all. Again, fun. But very short-lived.”

You fall into him and squeeze him tight. Eddie is almost taken aback by it. But nevertheless, he returns the favor.

"Are you alright?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you demand. "You have all of this going on and you're asking me if I'm alright?"

Oh, how lonely Eddie must’ve felt through all of this. You just want to hold him. Take away all of his pain.

It’s always the angels on earth who get sent to hell and back. Eddie deserves the world, and you’re going to go your best to give it to him.

"Are we alright?" you question him.

"Of course we're alright," Eddie insists, ruffling your hair like it’s the silliest thing you’ve ever asked him.

He pulls away from you. Rubs your back delicately as you soak in all of this new information.

“You sure you want to sign up for all of this?”

You are absolutely more than sure.

“Now why would you even ask that?” you choke. “You know my stubborn ass. I’m not backing down without a fight.”

“Yeaaah,” Eddie squints. “I guess you are pretty stubborn.”

You fall into one another again, kissing each other like it’s the air you need to breathe. Eddie delicately cups your face with his hands, relishing in the last couple of smooches before he pulls away.

“I like stubborn though.”

“You and me, Eddie.”

“You and me, sweetheart.”

“Eddie!” Wayne calls, innocently interrupting the moment. “I’m done, boy, now come help me get up.”

“Comin’!” Eddie cranes his neck, shouting in Wayne’s general direction. He kisses you one more time on the forehead before excusing himself. “Be right back, babe.”

You and Eddie leave for Hellfire shortly after spending a little bit more time with Wayne.

The entire ride there, you let Eddie talk about his memories with his uncle… how he’s attended homecoming rallies, talent shows, graduations, and the less-than-celebratory court hearings — loving Eddie unconditionally through thick and thin. He was there for Eddie’s senior prom, snapping photos of him with the boys and his date Ronnie, who was also his best friend at the time.

Wayne was also there for Eddie’s wedding, even though he didn’t particularly like Isabelle. Again, every milestone, Wayne was there for.

You fawn over Eddie as he continues to talk, the spark in his eyes never leaving for as long as it’s about his loved ones. You can only hope he talks to Wayne and the others about you in the same way.

You can’t believe this is real life.

From here on out, it’s going to be you and Eddie. And you’re going to be by his side no matter what, because he’s proven to you that he is committed to doing the same.

From here on out, it’s going to be Shy Girl and Eddie… and nothing… NOTHING will ever change your mind or get in the way of that.

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay

[noxer]

More bugs

And bunch of headcanons!

From what I understand, judging by her “aesthetics” and such, Monch is kind of a shaman. The only service she can provide to a deity like the Lamb is to increase the loyalty of their followers. But ordinary inhabitants of the lands of the Old Faith also turned to her, usually in search of cures for diseases and the like. Of course, this was forbidden, because only Kallamar and his priests could grant healing. However, they did not fulfill all such requests, and sufficiently desperate people could begin to seek help from Monch.

Rakshasa and his wife didn't always lead this lifestyle. They once lived quite peacefully in Anchordeep. However, after Narinder's imprisonment, Kallamar became paranoid and began to see betrayal everywhere. Eventually, fearing for their lifes, Rakshasa and his wife fled and have lived a nomadic existence ever since. I'm thinking of naming snail-wife Sazae, after Sazae-oni, the yokai snail.

Haro's words about Shamura's followers can be interpreted to mean that all the inhabitants of the Silk Cradle were obliged to become part of Shamura's army to one degree or another. But I think Helob did not appreciate the need to kill people and not get a single piece of his rightful spoils! So after some time he sort of deserted and is now doing what he really loves.

In the game, Sozo can be seen making notes from time to time. I find it very cute that his professional habit is so strong that even his condition does not stop him from being a scientist.