#prophet x priest

[valnvy]

i know damn well that if lauralee survived she would have been the most devoted to lottie

[bandgie]

The Sin of Flesh | Armageddon Event

Request: Forbidden Fruit | Hwang Hyunjin by anon song!

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, hyunjin has scars on his back, church is abusive, oral (f!rec), fingering (light), crying (m!), succumbs!reader x prophet!hyunjin, some comfort

a/n: im really nervous posting this idk why...anywho enjoy!

2.5k words

A heart of gold. A soul free of sin. Maintaining his purity in every aspect has been a challenge for Hyunjin, but it has all been for something greater than him.

The temple has claimed him as Chosen: a prophet, a foreseer. So long as Hyunjin keeps his pureness alive, his third eye will remain open.

Truthfully, there’s been slip-ups. There were times when he couldn’t think with anything other than the head in his pants. Punishments were the only way to get rid of his sins. His back bears the marks of such endorsements. Hyunjin has since sworn to devote himself to their God, to the power of the priest and priestess.

But having such a strong ardor only wakes the creatures in hell.

Slipping into holy ground is difficult for a demon like you. The Earth would usually burn your feet and though you have wings, they’re much too small for anything other than decor. You’ve been planning on taking the Chosen since he was picked. It didn’t take long to find a priest who was willing to invite you on the ground and into his bed.

It’s the reason why you’re able to tread freely, keeping your eyes on Hyunjin’s room.

You can practically see his life force glowing from the window above. It intimidates you, anything holy would, but you press forward.

The stones on the wall stick out enough for you to climb. It only takes a few scrapes and nicks before you find yourself peering into the room of your prey. Alone, in the dark, and asleep.

Wait, no, not asleep. You can see the dim candle creating just enough light to see his back. What looks like an easel sits before him with strokes of color on the canvas that Hyunjin creates. 

His wakefulness will make things more…difficult. There’s no way he wouldn’t be able to hear you crack the window open or tiptoe your way in. But you’re already here. You’ve already told yourself Hyunjin is your meal. 

You’d be damned if you stopped now. 

The window is already unlocked and it takes little effort to push it open. Though the hinges don’t squeak, it’s the floorboards beneath that give away your presence.

Hyunjin turns, flushed. You think the blush on his face is from surprise, but one look down at his crotch says otherwise.

He’s got a hand under his robe, a small stain that darkens the satin fabric. 

Hyunjin fumbles immediately. A cup of water mixed with paint spill on the marble floor. His paintbrush falls from the hand that isn’t attached to his cock. With wide eyes, he stutters, “Y-you! You’re not supposed to be here!”

You can’t help but smile. Words begin to form on your tongue, but you can’t help but notice the painting. Being fully in Hyunjin’s quarters gives you a better view of his art and you’re somewhat shocked to see that these brush strokes are much more than mere streaks.

It’s a man embracing a woman from the back. His hand grabs her throat as they sit on their knees, her breasts exposed to the world. 

Or to Hyunjin, specifically.

“Oh my.” You stalk forward. The painting grows with more detail with every step. The peak of her nipples to the slit of her cunt. “You seem to have quite the talent, oh holy Chosen One.”

Hyunjin blushes further. The tips of his ears burn red and he can do nothing but ignore the elephant in the room. “You can’t be here.”

“So you’ve said. But I suppose you can draw such treacherous art here, right?” You glance down. “With a hand in your robe, no less.”

Though Hyunjiin’s expression is nothing short of horrified, you’re quite cheerful. “Oh don’t look like that. I quite like it.”

“Of course you would. You’re a devil spawn.”

To that, you have nothing to say. Instead, you study the canvas.

Hyunjin could banish you. He could chant a few prayers that would have you crawling back to hell, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even stop you from inspecting his art as if waiting for your feedback.

It’s the outline of the cunt that catches your attention. He’s got the basics down - a little clit and lips that look more like a mouth than anything else.

Not bad, but it could use some work.

“This,” you point to it. “You’re missing some things.”

Hyunjin follows your fingers, going as far as to slightly bend his neck to lower himself.

His eyes flick to you then back to his painting. He’s too nervous to say anything. Speaking to a succubus like you is bad news, but if you’re giving him pointers…

“There’s a little hood on this part. And it looks more like if a mouth turned into a flower.” You keep explaining, and to your utter surprise, Hyunjin listens. His eyebrows pinch together in thought and suddenly, the little wings on your back and the thin tail attached to your tailbone are an afterthought. 

You put your hands on your hips, facing him. “Have you never seen a cunt up close, Hyunjin?”

He’s so close to you now that he’s bending to your level. His face is still blushing, his lips even more red than his cheeks. Hyunjin’s slender eyes widen at your question, pretty pupils expanding in the warmth of his brown eyes.

His beauty alone should be a sin.

“I-I…I don’t have to answer you.” But his voice shakes. His full, bottom lip trembles at both the sight of you and your words. Humans tend to wear their emotions in their eyes - the windows to their soul as you’ve learned - but this man seems to have his heart on his sleeve as well. 

The look of fear though. You don’t think it’s from you being a demon. “I’m not gonna tell.”

“Y-You’re not?” He blinks.

“I’m not. I just wanted to give you some…suggestions. That is if you don’t mind.”

Dangerous curiosity sparks in Hyunjin’s soft eyes. They flick back to you and the canvas like he's weighing your offer in his head. “I…I don’t know.”

Ah, he just needs a little bit more convincing. You don’t say anything as you turn away from him, walking to the massive white bedstead. Sheer curtains hang from the side and you use the back of your hand to brush it aside to sit on his bed.

Your legs part just slightly, the mound of your tight underwear barely hiding your cunt.

“I could show you right here. Give you a good look.” His eyes lock on your pussy covered by the layer. Hyunjin gulps, fingers clenching and unclenching with uncertainty.

“Come on,” you purr. “It’ll be our secret.”

Hyunjin can hear the reprimands of the priests. He can feel the healed lashes on his back sting, but he walks forward anyway. Each step has those drowning out in his ears. It’s your eyes that call to him, low and welcoming. The smell of your cunt as he gets on his knees soothes the burning of his scars.

You do the honors of pulling the top of your underwear so it stretches over your pussy. The shape of your lips is prominent this way, giving Hyunjin just a glimpse of what’s underneath. “You never answered my question, Hyunjin. Have you ever been this close to a cunt?”

Yes and no. Hyunjin has felt how it is to embrace a woman. Feel how their walls spasm and leak on his cock. Not many, but enough for him to understand the mechanics of everything. He convinced himself that it wasn’t him sinning, but something he couldn’t quite get under control. As long as it was his dick getting acquainted with the warmth of a woman, it didn’t count.

Explaining this is much harder out loud, so Hyunjin simply says, “Not like this.”

But you’ll take that as an answer. “Mm. Now you can. Wanna take them off for me?” You tug on your panties for effect, catching your clit in just the right way. Hyunjin sees your legs twitch and if he was thinking of saying no, that changes his mind immediately.

He nods, slipping his shaky fingers on the sides of your underwear to slide them down your plush thighs.

It’s hardly surprising to see your arousal cling to your underwear. Not necessarily because you’re horny, but that’s just how it is being a succubus. The male counterpart won’t have to do much in order to get you prepped, helping in getting his energy force quicker. 

Hyunjin doesn’t know this fact, so seeing those strings, wet and creamy, makes his jaw drop.

He continues sliding your underwear down until it hangs off one of your ankles. You can’t help but smile at his wide eyes. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, saliva making it shine.

Having his mouth so close to your cunt makes you involuntarily tense. Hyunjin seems to notice your restlessness because he gently places his hand just below your pelvis. His hand is warm, fingers long enough to reach down and play with your clit, but he doesn’t.

Instead, Hyunjin pulls the skin upwards, causing your pussy to stretch. Your flesh peeks through your folds, pink and throbbing.

You bite the inside of your cheeks, spreading your legs more so he can see everything you have to give. It’s the sight of your clit, however, that catches attention. You swear you can see drool pooling from the corner of his mouth.

“You can touch it if you want.” Your words break his trance, his blown pupils looking at yours. “I don’t bite.”

He fights with himself. You can see the inner turmoil wreaking havoc in his mind. It doesn’t take long, however, before he chooses what’s already in front of him. 

Hyunjin’s lips are warm against yours. His bottom lip drags upwards to meet his top one, getting your arousal to smear just slightly. When he kisses again, it’s straight to your clit.

A hum vibrates in your chest. You carry your weight with one hand flat on the bed while the other cups Hyunjin’s cheek. He slightly jumps at first, as if not used to being treated tenderly.

It’s a whole array of emotions in his eyes: hunger, need, uncertainty, contentment, and everything in between. You coo at him, “It’s okay, Hyunjin. You can keep eating.”

Hyunjin is used to false promises. Women would swear to keep their mouths shut about sleeping with him, but it soon would get out that a lucky gal was able to have the Chosen One in their bed. A great boast that led to Hyunjin’s unorthodox punishments.

But with you, demon and all, he feels safe. Something about the raw look in your eyes and how you smile so endearingly makes him want to trust again.

So he leans into your touch, tilting his head so that he can get a good angle with his tongue. 

Hyunjin swipes down, momentarily flicking against your entrance before bringing up the arousal. The back of his tongue swipes over your clit and you arch into his mouth.

“Ah! It feels so good when you lick me there.”

He didn’t know, but he had a feeling. Especially when he places it between his lips and sucks, he knows that the trembling of your legs is from pleasure.

Every second he would spend responding is wasted by not being in your cunt, so Hyunjin chooses to nod. It's little grunts and groans that escape him from your taste. You can’t imagine when was the last time Hyunjin had pussy with how he presses against you eagerly, but you’re glad he was starved for some time.

Strong hands grip the underside of your thighs to bring you closer to the edge of the bed. With control over your lower body, Hyunjin can bury himself as deeply as he wants. His nose touches your bud while his tongue explores your entrance.

You moan, letting your hand wander past his face, through his hair, and underneath his robe. You mean to scratch and grip his back, but when you feel ridges, you stop.

Even Hyunjun slows his tongue. It stills inside of you, waiting to see what you’ll do, what’ll say. 

With care a demon shouldn’t have, you run the pads of your fingers along the scar. It’s tissue being opened and healed repeatedly, leaving a prominent lash on his skin he’ll have to bear for life.

You pout, looking at Hyunjin who now looks at you full of…something you can’t quite place your finger on. Worry, maybe. But not if you’ll hurt him, but how you feel about it.

“They did this to you?” You don’t need to say who. For praising love and acceptance, the church has a hypocritical way of doing the exact opposite. And because Hyunjin still doesn’t want to part with your taste, he only nods mournfully.

You smooth over his scars. “You didn’t deserve that.” And for better or worse, you mean it. Hyunjin’s only sin is love - for flesh and acceptance. You can see it when he gazes at you. You can feel it when his tongue pulls out to lap over your clit momentarily.

You pull your hand from his robe, putting it back onto his cheek for condolence. “Stay with me, Hyunjin. I’ll accept all of you. No more loneliness, no more cruelty. Just you and me.”

Pretty tears well in his eyes. It might feel strange for others to know that the man between your legs is on the verge of crying, but with you, it feels right.

As though all is meant to be.

Finally, he pulls from your cunt. “You will?”

“I will.” You rub over his smooth cheek. “I can take you away from all this.”

It’s almost too good to be true. Sure, he has many perks of being favored by his God, but he didn’t ask for it. He didn’t ask to be the Chosen One, constantly watched and judged for every move he makes.

He wants an escape. You may have appeared as a demon, but he knows you're his angel with their halo disguised as the devil’s horns.

A small tear falls down his pretty face. “Thank you.”  A kiss to your cunt. Then another one. He soon repeats words of gratitude with praiseful pecks.

Thank you, thank you.

This could easily be chalked up as a lie. A big fib just to make this prophet fall to sin, and although that’s your ultimate goal, you find yourself wanting to keep your promises.

He’s so sweet when he sucks on your clit, his tears mingling with your arousal. You can only comfort him with the warmth between your legs and dragging your fingers through his hair. Not that Hyunjin would want anything more than that. This place is where he’s always belonged.

And when he has your essence dripping down his chin, fingers confidently beginning to replace his tongue, you know you’ll keep him safe. With you.

[holybibly]

girl i really dunno how to ask but ummm i...i mean WE need more preacher/saint/priest content....oh i just thought priest yunho with some cnc and bdsm........and maybe some watersports....oh. my. god. i died. my eyes are only seeing some whips, punishment and a lot of sin. bye.

Hi, honey, how are you? I really spoiled you, didn't I? But it seems that everyone is just as crazy about hot priests/pasors,preachers, and nuns as I am. Woo was hotter than hell when he was a priest, don't you think, bunnies?

I've already mentioned that I'll be doing a sequel for each member, but I'll tell you more so you can look forward to my updates.

Below I mention religious, hierophilia and church related topics. Bunnies, please refrain from reading if such content makes you uncomfortable. You have been warned!

Beware of False Prophets Demon San x Reader

Everyone in your town has been talking about the arrival of a new priest. The parishioners have been on their knees in praise of Pastor Choi San ever since he walked through the doors of your little church. He was devout, quiet, and, for a priest, incredibly handsome. He quickly became the object of admiration and wet dreams.

And you were not left out. The way his cat-like eyes would sometimes linger on you during Mass, or the way your name would roll off his tongue when he addressed you, made you blush with shame, not only at the dirty thoughts in your head but also at the fact that your panties were getting too wet just by looking at San.

But little did you know that Pastor Choi San had much more forbidden and depraved intentions towards you than that. Not all that glitters is gold, and not everyone is a saint who wears a holy robe.

It is said that one should beware of false prophets, for good intentions lead to hell. Or maybe the demon San will disguise himself as the new pastor of your church and try to tempt you into committing a sin.

Are you callin' me a sinner? Priest Yunho x Widow Reader

It was never in your wildest dreams that you'd be a widow at such a young age. Less than three months had passed since you got married when your husband tragically died, and this became the talk of your small town.

People walked past you, looked at you with disgust, closed their doors in front of you, and pointedly ignored you as if you had committed some mortal sin, which is probably what they thought you had done. You were so young and too beautiful, and your husband... Your husband was a man much older than you. You loved him; you really did, and losing him destroyed you. Your husband left you a huge fortune to inherit, and people whispered that you killed him to get money and to take a lover. Some even said you made a pact with the devil by killing your husband in return for your unearthly beauty and money. They said that you were a sinful brat.

Your only comfort at that time was faith, and you spent all your evenings in prayer and penance. One day, your housekeeper advised you to contact the priest, Jeong Yunho, describing him as a pious, compassionate, and gentle person who always showed mercy to everyone and granted the desired forgiveness of sins to all the troubled hearts. But she neglected to mention that Yunho was also an incredibly handsome young man who was more likely to tempt you to sin than to help you atone for it.

"I will help you get rid of your sins, my child." His hoarse voice whispered in your ear as he let the dress fall from your shoulders and down your back.

"I am going to cleanse you of the sin and the impurity of this world." Yunho said as he put a blindfold over your eyes and tied your hands behind your back.

"The only way you will be able to atone for your sins is through pain, and I will help you with that, my dear." He said this, accompanying his words with a lash of his whip across your bare skin.

Say yes to Heaven Pastor Yeosang x Libertine Reader

You never wanted to have anything as much as you wanted to have Kang Yeosang. He was handsome. He looked like an angel. He was everything that you ever wanted to sink your teeth into. He was your church's pastor. And that was what drove the hell out of you.

Yeosang was a simple man—an incredibly sweet and gentle man—who always helped his parishioners find the right path and to find God in their hearts. You, however, could brag about an endless list of sins and vices that you proudly displayed, like your favourite red lipstick. If given the chance, you would paint the whole town red, but mostly you wanted to see it smeared around Pastor Yeosang's handsome cock while you deepthroated him. The two of you came from completely different worlds—a saint and a sinner—but you had always believed that opposites attract.

Every mass was a game of seduction for you, and you wondered how far you could go before the angelic halo over Yeosang's head would crack and he would fuck you senseless. Although you had doubts that he could do it, you had a feeling that he was a virgin and would probably faint at the sight of a pink, wet pussy in front of his pretty angelic face. God, the boy was so holy and inexperienced about sex.

But how wrong you were about him! There are always two sides to every coin, and you will learn from experience that there are some desires that are better left as fantasies. Or the one where Pastor Yeosang fucks you to the last inch of your life and teaches you the concept of out-of-body experiences through orgasm.

Me and the Devil Lucifer Seonghwa x Reader Nun

From the day your parents took you to church for the first time, you knew that your life would be one of devotion to God. Of course, this was not the destiny your family wanted for you, but they still supported you on your way to becoming a virgin bride.

The convent where you lived to prepare for your vows was far from home and did not have the best reputation. But the priest of your parish convinced you that it was there, and nowhere else, that you could know God. And he was right; you did know God, but it was not the God to whom you prayed every night of your life.

It all began with dreams. Dark and unholy dreams came to you more and more often. The cold hands of a stranger sliding over your skin, a hot tongue exploring your body and lips as if sin itself were branding you with kisses, all ending with the first rays of dawn. Then this strange cat appeared and would not leave your side for a minute. But what frightened you most was the disappearance of the other nuns. One after the other, they vanished without a trace, until there were only a few novices left in the convent.

The night you took your vows was dark and moonless. So were the eyes of the dark-winged angel who appeared before you. It was as if he were woven of pure sin, depravity, and rage, oozing from his skin like ichor, and the rustle of his wings was the very sound you would hear before your death. But Angel, Lucifer, Seonghwa—call him what you like—came here with one goal: to finally get his bride.

"Do you have faith that your God will be the answer to your prayers, my beautiful bride? Do you believe that he is going to save you?" Seonghwa's lips touched your cheek, and his burning breath flowed across your skin. "You belong to me. Your soul, your faith, your body—all of it belongs to me. And you will accept me as your husband, dear child. Or you will say goodbye to your life at dawn."

There will be a separate post for Mingi, Jongho and Hongjoong. I am going to leave you in suspense, my little bunnies.

There's no harm in a bit of intrigue, is there?

[rabidbatboy]

♱ RELIGIOUS RURAL GOTHIC ID PACK . . .

NAMES ; noah , martyr , angelo , saint , seraph , michael , judas , israel , evangeline , lilith , brahms , dorian , lazarus , salem , mordred , micah , samuel , jakob , elijah , constantine , omen , addam , christian , josiah , faith , genesis

PRNS ; holy / holys , dust / dusts , fog / fogs , saint / saints , null / nulls , devout / devouts , goth / gothic , ash / ashs , bleed / bleeds , cro / cross , lost / losts , scar / scars , rust / rusts , rot / rots , grave / graves , ink / inks , burn / burns , book / books , chill / chills , mist / mists , proph / prophet

TiTLES ; the false prophet , the accursed one , the charismatic priest , the unholy one , [X] who chants prayers , [X] who is trapped by fate , the lonely one , [X] who stands before god , the one adorned with rosaries , [X] who feeds lies , the sinner , [X] who is chosen by god , the bloodstained preacher , the corrupt one , [X] who is alone in an empty church

iDENTiTiES ; churchruinic , abandreligic , creepthedric , batgothredal , holycannibal , vessoulic , angelesque , religioustraumathing , crucifingelic , unwelcathedric , humanthing , decayedgender , unholyheretic , priestgoric

SEE ALSO ; carnivorous / eerie angel id pack

🦇 —— REQUESTED BY ; @peterstrahmspen

[ PT: religious rural gothic id pack

names;

prns;

titles;

identities; (links)

see also; (link)

requested by; @/user / END PT]

[mellowwillowy]

HEAR ME OUT!! Please please please!!

Yandere!prince who fell in love with the lady in waiting of the princess he is supposed to marry

A forbidden love that he is ready to do WHATEVER it take to make it happend

Why would he marry a princess when there this being who can but the queen of fae to shame with theire beauty ?

I'M LISTENING NONNIE!!

Yan! Prince x (neutral-f/m) Lady-in-waiting reader

I've actually written fics similar to this concept! This one is about a princess and a crown prince, the crown prince was supposed to marry another noble of higher status but the crown prince and priest found a way to make you the wife instead! (fem! reader)

This one is about reader being the former Empress' lady-in-waiting with the crown prince snatching reader from his brother's grasp! You were supposed to marry his brother (a knight) but he broke his legs and gave him the illusion of choice by becoming a priest instead. (gn intersex reader)

And as for this concept...

mmh... I can see the Yan! Prince going feral over you... you are the most beautiful woman (right?) he has ever laid his eyes on, even more than the garden of flowers he fancies so much! What do you like? What do you dislike? He wants to know everything about you this instant. He needs to.

I don't have much to say but yeah, Yan! Prince is capable of doing anything, even going as far as convincing everyone with the stage he prepares for you. Oh, you are a guy? Just keep up with the farce and no one will know though he would wonder why the princess had a guy dressed as her lady-in-waiting... were you her fucktoy or what? That irritates him and you are not spared with his gentle ass.

I'll use Erickson again for this idea (hehehe crown prince...). Erickson, falling in love with you? The crown prince? Say goodbye to your kneecaps or ankles once he gets his hands on you.

So how does he annul this whole wedding? With the help of his twin brother, they'll both dig or make scandals that will trample the princess family's reputation. It's nothing hard for two people of status and power after all.

Now that her reputation is tarnished, the prince's family will annul the wedding and he'll convince his mother to take you in as one of her ladies-in-waiting. He'll praise you and coax her mother into taking you in, anything, as long as you get to stay under the same roof as him. You bet your life would be a living hell the moment you upset or piss him off even just for the slightest.

Next would be having your hand in marriage. This will be tough, considering his status as the crown prince. Should he convince the former Empress to make his brother the next Emperor instead? He doubts she'll allow it as the prophet's dice had chosen him to be the eldest despite being born second.

If he can't do that, then all he has to do is make a stage for you, a fake family of reputation that was at the edge of a downfall, convincing rumors of you circulating around the citizens and a load of lessons about the royalties' history.

Now that you are completely perfect, suitable to be his suitor, this nation's Empress, another problem spurts out. Noel, his brother, has also taken a liking to you.

Seriously, of all the affections he had received, he wishes to have you as well? He sure is a gutsy bastard, perhaps he should strip him from his status as a knight to teach him a lesson?

The same turn of events happened again, Noel's legs were broken, he was sent to the church and you were wed to Erickson, everything was smooth perfect.

Depending on Noel's love for you, if it was high, it'll reach the same conclusion, with him coming back to overthrow Erickson in the name of the church and God. The only difference was that you did not share that much fondness for the two of them, alas the ending had you died without any last words to them.

If his brother didn't love you that much, he wouldn't return and you are forever stuck with him until he dies. (yup, you don't get to die first, magic is not as hard as it seemed.)

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — PRIEST! OKKOTSU YUUTA x MAFIA BOSS! FEM READER

You’re known to be a bit of a monster in underworld circles, but when you turn your attention to Yuuta, it backfires miserably on you. 

wc — 4k

tags — mdni, aged up, religion, mild sacrilege, dom Yuuta, the inherent sexiness of someone who can provide something for you that no one else can, learning to be tender, fucking on the kitchen table, dacryphilia, praise

“He’s very pretty for a priest,” you tell Maki, your second in command. “I thought they were all old men.” 

“Yuuta’s special,” she says, her lip curled. You know she doesn’t like your attention on him. You have a bad habit of breaking the toys you like. 

They’re childhood friends, you’ve heard, or at least schoolmates. One of those. You don’t care to pay attention to rumors all too much. That’s Inumaki’s job. 

“I like the sound of that,” you say, just to tease. You’re not serious. Maki’s too important to you and your business to antagonize. Besides, she’s the closest thing to a friend you have in this industry. She’d stab you in the back just the same as everyone else, but at least she’s plain about it. 

You’re not worried. Maki will only betray you if you give her a good reason to. As long as helping you is more beneficial to her than helping the enemy, she’ll stay loyal to you. That’s simple enough for you to manage. You make it a special interest of yours to keep Maki happy, and Maki delivers the results you want. It’s a win-win scenario. 

Very rarely does she ever challenge you. 

She’s a good lieutenant like that. Your favorite thing about Maki is how willing she is to let you do whatever you want - within reason. Inumaki’s off limits, for example. She didn’t like it when you snapped at him at the last family dinner. So is Panda. 

It looks like Yuuta is, too. 

It makes you feel a little lonely. Maki and Inumaki and Panda - and now even this stranger, too. You came into the family late, rising through the ranks not as a prodigy, but as a late bloomer. Even though you’ve long since solidified your place, you always feel the tension of the bonds the other three hold. You can’t compare. 

They respect you. They fear you. Sometimes they even like you, when you play your cards just right. But they don’t love you. That’s something they reserve for each other.

You thought you weren’t serious about bullying Yuuta, but here you are standing in front of the heavy wooden doors of his church, hand poised to knock. Maki will forgive you. She always does. And if she doesn’t? 

You’ll make her. 

What choice does she have? You’re her boss. Besides, it’s not like you particularly care about the consequences right now. You’re in one of your moods.

If Maki was around, she might be able to control it. Once you’re on the warpath, rather than talk you down, she just redirects everyone out of your path. Smart girl. She knows there’s no other way to deal with you. 

But Maki’s not here now, and you’re feeling that inescapable itch underneath your skin again. You got to where you were from nothing, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. All the power in the world couldn’t satiate you. Perhaps that’s why you break your toys - just to prove you can. 

Yuuta answers the door with a serene smile. He doesn’t seem shocked at all to see you. It’s unnerving. You’ve only watched him from a distance, but your impression of him gives you the creeps, which makes no sense. You’re the one with all the power. You’re his boss, the one with all the connections to get him killed for something as small as looking at you wrong. 

But all of that seems to pale in comparison to Yuuta’s dark eyes. Your bloody work is child’s play when you think about how he seems eerily omniscient, like he can predict things before they happen. There are days where he feels more prophet than priest. 

You forcibly shake off the cold cobwebs of doubt that cling to your mind. Yuuta is a normal man. He’s probably just doing what you’re doing - cultivating a reputation that’s a better shield than any Kevlar vest. Prevention is always better than a cure, after all. Better that no one even dares to try. 

Yuuta doesn’t ask you what you’re here for. He leads you to past the pews and the confessional to his own rooms. It looks like you’ve interrupted his dinner. His table is plain wood, solid and sturdy. Annoyingly simple. Your own dining table could pay for a million of these. 

“Sit,” Yuuta gestures, “I’ll make you something.” 

“Thank you, but I’m not here to join you for dinner.” 

“Join me anyways,” Yuuta said. “It’ll make me happy.” 

“No thanks.” 

Yuuta ignores you to begin pulling ingredients out of his fridge. This is exactly what you were worried about. Yuuta’s not afraid of you, unlike every other member of your family. That has to be rectified immediately. 

“Yuuta,” and at the call of his name he turns. “Just tea is fine.” 

He smiles at you. “Sure.” 

To anyone else, it would be an acceptable compromise. You’re seething, your blood boiling with outrage at the nerve he has. Making a concession in anything is unacceptable, even for something as small as this. 

Yuuta gives you a little dove blue mug, the ceramic slightly chipped. Before you can drink, he slides a hand between the top and your lips. He’s so close you could lean forward and kiss his  ring. 

It’s outrageous. Just because he’s essential to your operation, he thinks he can do whatever he wants with you. 

He technically can. You need him. 

“Careful,” he says. “Don’t cut your mouth.” 

“Watch your hands,” you say with as much poisoned politeness as you can muster. It doesn’t phase him at all. 

You need to regain control of this situation, but you’re quickly losing your grasp on everything. You can’t tell why or how, but Yuuta seems to be leading you around by the nose for your entire conversation. 

Eventually, you’re desperate enough to try one last weapon in your arsenal. It’s just hot enough in his room, with its lack of air conditioning, that unbuttoning the top of your blouse can be seen as casual. The way you lean towards him could not. 

“Oh?” Yuuta’s voice is quiet, soft. He’s a gentle man, with uncallused hands. Even this isn’t a sign of interest, but a mere question. 

“Come on, Father,” you say, placing your hand over his so you can play with his ring. The metal is cool against your overheated skin. 

He gives in more easily than you thought he would. 

His eyes are like empty pools, dark beyond imagination. You can’t read him at all as his other hand comes up to press your hand down, gently. It’s trapped between his. 

You become aware of how harsh your breathing sounds in this moment. You’ve heard that fear and arousal are very similar responses. It has never felt more possible to be true than in this moment, waiting to see what Yuta will do. 

His hand slithers up your hand to your wrist, from wrist to bicep, and bicep to throat. He curls his fingers around your windpipe. Every noise is thin, threadbare. You’re struggling to breath through your nose and not your mouth. 

His touch bleeds fever into your bloodstream, every muscle tense. You were never good at the waiting game. From the very moment you were brought into the family, all you’ve ever wanted to do is run. 

His fingers crawl along your throat up to your jaw. He turns your face this way and that, as if he were examining a prize animal at a show. It’s hard to keep yourself calm under his dispassionate gaze. You’re a beautiful woman, but as any good priest, it appears that Yuuta has a tight leash on his baser urges. 

Yuuta succumbs, but it doesn’t feel like your victory. Even as he steals your breath from your lungs with lips as soft as rose petals, you feel like you’re giving in to him, and not the other way around. Those cold eyes feel reptilian on your skin. 

To your horror, you whimper. Yuuta smiles against your lips, licking into your mouth. His hot tongue presses insistently against yours until you’re gasping for air, lightheaded from lack of oxygen. It feels good, like you’re floating above your body. It almost brings you regret when he pulls away, letting you breathe again. 

“I thought,” you say slowly, trying to hide your discomfort and your violent breathing, “that priests were the good guys.”

“I am a good guy,” Yuuta says. 

It’s a little hateful that you like that. He’s uncomplicated, a little like Maki in that sense. There’s a total lack of unsteadiness in his voice. He believes what he says fully. 

“You work for me,” you tell him with a wry smile. “No one who works for me is a nice person.” 

No one who would kiss you, either. You’re contamination. He’s been infected just by touching you. 

“I’m that, too,” Yuuta says, laughing. “Are you really here to judge me for my sins?” 

It’s a rhetorical question. You don’t like that. No matter what you throw at him, Yuuta always turns the other cheek. He makes humility feel like spitefulness. 

“Stop doing that,” you demand of him. “Don’t pretend.” 

He smiles at you. The outline of his lips are friendly, but his eyes are that of a shark’s. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“That! Don’t act all cute when you’re planning something.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“I said act,” you bite out. 

“Mm,” Yuuta says agreeably, toying with the second button of your blouse. “And what am I planning?” 

“S-something,” you stutter out as he snaps it off. One by one, with each word you speak, he pops buttons off your blouse. “I don’t know- fuck,” you hiss. Your shirt’s gaping open. 

“Planning something but you don’t know what? That doesn’t seem too reliable,” Yuta teases. His fingers are cold against your skin. 

You try to change the topic, give yourself breathing room to stop.

“I don’t think you should be doing this,” you say. 

You need to convince yourself to pull away from him, no matter how sexy he is. This is a bad idea. But no matter how much you try to bargain with yourself, you latch onto him even tighter. 

“Why?” Yuuta laughs, and it’s a spritely thing. It’s pretty like the rest of him, like golden bells. He’s unreal. “Because of God?”

“You’re a shitty priest,” you moan as he pinches your nipple. 

“I’m just a revolutionary,” Yuuta says. He kisses your jaw, soft and tender. You resist the urge to put your fist through his head. It’s too much. “I worship with real offerings.” 

You’re suddenly seized by the very real terror that he could ruin you. Something about his eyes…

Not just his eyes. His hands, his lips - your attention to them feels like it’s not your own. Whatever compels you towards Yuta feels ancient, older than you. As if your whole life has been leading towards this point, towards him. 

Destiny is a much more terrifying concept than people realize. The idea that every action has been predetermined and no thought truly your own, that you have been made from birth to be here, cuts deep. You have never believed in something greater than yourself with a gun in your hand until you met Yuta. 

Now you’re a wounded animal, bleeding fear. An open cut. So vulnerable it would only the smallest touch to make you hurt. 

Yuuta lifts you up and onto the table, standing between your legs. His fingers slip over the zip of your pants, searchingly. 

You arch up towards him before you even quite register what you’re doing. It brings a soft chuckle out of him. Your pants are down and across the room faster than you can react. He kisses you through it, making you miss the exact moment until you feel a sudden breeze against your legs. 

You’re babbling nonsense to him, casting about for anything to say. You feel too raw, too exposed like this. Yuuta’s still fully dressed in the robes he wore when he answered the door, but you’re in nothing but a tank top and panties that Yuuta’s about to take off of you. 

“Now who’s being cute?” Yuuta teases. “Are you nervous? I thought you were supposed to be scary.” 

The only that’s making you nervous is how much you want this, but the magnitude of your desire terrifies you. 

When your panties comes off, he makes a soft noise at how wet you are from him. It sounds almost like he’s been hurt. 

He drags two fingers through the mess you’ve made of yourself, watches the sticky strings snap when he spreads them. Yuuta makes the obscene divine. He’s so pretty you think he’d make for a glorious stained glass window, even like this. 

Especially like this. 

What had he said? That pleasure was worship? 

Naked under Yuuta’s holy gaze, you’ve never felt closer to God. Closer to being clean. 

Yuuta spreads your legs for him, letting them settle around his waist. When you try to push forward, to grind against his clothed cock, he pins your hips down effortlessly with one hand. 

“Patience,” he chides. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He takes his time prepping you, but it still feels nearly impossible when you feel just the tip enter you. Yuuta presses in slowly, but you still feel full enough to break as he stretches you out. You breath in staccato, and at your fast, gasping breaths, a ringed hand tenderly strokes your cheek. 

“Easy,” Yuuta croons at you. “Easy now.” 

Yeah, easy to say when he’s not the one suffering. You let your head drop so suddenly the threat of braining yourself on the table is very real, but Yuta catches you, going down with you. He slips your arms up and around his neck as he presses home. 

Your legs are shaking, you realize with near hysterical humiliation. He hasn’t even really done anything yet, but white hot pleasure surges in your veins. This starving beast inside of you, an empty void, has been sated. It feels so good to be this full, this close. 

Yuuta’s hands are on your hips now, pulling you down onto his cock. There’s a pressure inside of you that lights up the pathways of pleasure in your brain, sending you spiraling towards a place inside you that you hadn’t realized existed.

“There you are, sweetheart,” he says as you start to cry. “How pretty.” 

You cling on to his shoulders like a life raft, shuddering against him. 

“You’re good, aren’t you?” He whispers against your throat. Between each word, he presses a kiss to the vein that pumps life giving blood to your head. 

You shake your head. He thrusts deeper in response, pulling a shiver of pleasure out of you. He’s discovered an angle that makes sparks light up behind your eyes, and he’s abusing his knowledge. “Yes,” he says, more firmly. “You are.” 

Yuuta was growing to become a dangerous addiction. If you let him keep going, you’re worried you could begin to want this. Wanting was bad. Wanting led to-

Yuuta moans, disrupting your thoughts. He pushes forward as he pulls your hips towards him, meeting you with a disgustingly lewd noise. You’re leaving nail marks in his back. Every thrust has you feeling white hot, immolation imminent. Your brain is on overload, every thought melting from your head. You find yourself nodding along to every word of praise, tears still dripping from crystallized lashes as Yuuta pushes you insistently towards the peak of your pleasure. 

Your entire body tenses as you cum, warmth suffusing every inch of your body. Your arms slide off Yuuta’s neck and fall to your sides, spent. He follows you shortly, spilling into you until your eyes roll back into your head from another sharp spike of bone melting pleasure. 

You hadn’t realized you were still tense until Yuuta reaches for you. He takes your clenched fists and unravels them, one finger at a time. They feel weak and flimsy in his grasp, easily destroyed like the petals of a flower. He could hurt you like this, you think insanely. This could be your ruination, the end of everything you worked so hard for. He presses a kiss to each finger. You don’t retaliate, letting him work. 

Your hands have wrought some real damage. Gentleness is not something you thought they were capable of.

[rottenmelon1117]

𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚝 ( 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 )

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: priest! jeong yunho (switch) x reader (with a vagina)(switch)

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: smut, religion, blasphemy, oral (receiving and giving), edging, choking, fingering, obsession, masturbation, confession booth sex

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: you find yourself longing for a priest you haven't even seen before, touching yourself every night to his husky voice. before you know it, your lips are greeting his with a want and a desire.

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: i wrote this with concert halazia yunho in mind. who doesn't love a little blasphemy?

༺ ⊱───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰──⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༻

There must be something wrong with me, his deep voice echoes and fills my head. Nothing but his tone consumes my whole being creating an illusion as if he was right here beside me whispering my voice in a sweet low melody. I pray every night to my false prophet and his name is Jeong Yunho.

I was never religious, nor the thought of going to church ever crossed my mind. My feet leading me to the entrance of a well lit cathedral, my initial response was to back away and head home. Before I could even turn around a figure pulls the door open exposing the warm dim lighting surrounding a large room full of pews and an immense glowing cross. A shiver was sent down my spine at the imagery of Jesus on the cross staring directly at me. A woman's hand reaches out and takes hold of mine, gently she says " Have you gone to confession lately? " Confused by her words I shake my head gesturing that I haven't. She wraps my wrist in her hand and guides me to a wooden booth motioning me to go inside. Maybe this will allow me to release all that's been pent up.

I let out a hushed sigh in hopes of not offending the person on the other side of the screen. Taking a deep breath I kneel down on the pew " I'm sorry... I've never done this before and I've never thought of doing this. Do I just start telling you my life story or what's on my mind? " The sudden clatter of the tiny door sliding open, revealing the dark silhouette of a man. " Why don't you start off by saying, sorry lord for I have sinned... it's been *insert this much days or months* since my last confession. " He says in low husky voice that haunted my mind. Taken back by his shallowed youthful expression I find myself flustered. " Sorry lord for I have sinned, it's been *insert years of age* since my last confession. " I say back with a direct tone. " That's a good start. Now you can tell me everything."

Every Sunday I find myself coming back to hear that whispered voice, I needed to hear it, it became an obsession, a need, a desire. My fingers keep wandering and discovering new intense feelings as I trace every crevice of my heat while I think about what the man on the other side could possibly look like. Will he have eyes that are seemingly pure just like his profession? Or will it be dark and sinful like his voice. Maybe today I'll tell him about the thoughts I've been having about him, but not directly about him. The sound of my heart thumping as I approach the confession booth. The air still and silent that you could hear my restricted breathing. His inky silhouette appears before me making me quiver. I start to relay the thoughts that I've gone over and over in my head thousands of times. As I go into detail about my carnal desires choosing my words carefully, making sure he doesn't recognize that I was actually describing him, I lower my hands down permitting my fingers to stroke and graze my core gently, letting my mind wander to lustful wants.

My knees stinging from the hour long session of me kneeling and filling in Father Yunho of my dark prurient notions. I flinch at the sound of whimpers happening from the other side of the screen, I discover his form tilting his head back. Is he... getting off on what I'm telling him? I pause for a second listening to his stifled moans. The thought of him stroking himself and being aroused by my words made me want to continue telling him more just so I could keep listening to his soft whines.

Bringing myself to the end of the confession I calm myself down. "Father Yunho? I think I'm going to get going..." I break off my sentence allowing him to fill in the gap. Silence. He brings himself closer to the other side of the screen whispering " The way you describe your most intimate thoughts- " He pauses for a second

" I can't stop thinking about your vulgar expressions. It fills me up with the most immoral scenarios and I won't be able to bring myself to step foot into this cathedral." Withdrawing myself from the booth, I don't know how to respond. My eyes scanning the room looking for the exit, in the corner of my peripheral I see the door of the confession booth open. A tall man comes into view, his build slender and delicate as he fixes his disarrayed outfit while brushing his tousled black hair in an attempt of making himself look neat. The realization that the figure before me is Father Yunho. We make immediate eye contact that burns holes into one another. I've never seen someone so incredibly beautiful before, especially not in person, it was as if I had actually perceived a god. He starts to walk slowly and carefully over in hopes of not startling me. " Y/N I'm sorry for what I said, that was not appropriate. I really don't know what had came over me, I've never felt this. You've awaken a new side of me I've never experienced before. " Father Yunho gently apologizes to me. My eyes show a sincerity that he catches on to " N-no, don't be sorry. I just didn't know how to respond or react. " He inches closer to me trying to close the gap between us

" Seeing you this close... I don't know how much longer I can hold myself back... so I'll leave you alone." I extend my hand and quickly grab hold of his cuff retorting

" Please don't go... I don't think I can hold back anymore either. "

We exchange looks of longing as we bring our waists closer, leaving no room for escape. He grabs my face gently but firmly and lowers his to mine, letting the tip of his nose brush against my cheek. My lips pleading for his to impact mine as our bodies are now intertwined. I can feel his eyes study my every curve, detail, paying attention to my every movement. Brushing his plush lips over mine, his tongue drifting, looking for permission to enter. My tongue invites his into mine, beginning to dance and shift, making languid motions. Soft passionate moans release from both of our lips as his hand travels up my shirt, caressing my breast. His fingertips trail over my sensitive skin showing me that the noises leaving my mouth are awakening him to continue further down. "F-father Yun-ho..." My voice trails off as he hurriedly leads me into the confession booth. Us both stumbling in and nearly hitting my head on the wall, we find ourselves now cramped into this small space. " Y/N do you know how much of a heathen you're making me feel? " Onyx hair displaying strands messily on his forehead as he continues to burn wet kisses onto my mouth. Reaching to grasp the back of my neck, now aware of how rough he's being I let out a small whimper " Ngh... hurts F-father Yun- " Before I could finish my sloppy sentence he pushes his lengthy slender finger onto my lips and tongues the inside of my mouth once more, leaning by my ear he softly says " No... don't refer to me as Father Yunho anymore... what were doing is far too sinful. Just. Yunho. " leaving me with another hot careless kiss. My eyes shot up at his conviction, begging for him to touch me somewhere new. I start tugging at my belt hoping he'd catch onto what I was eluding to. Yunho tugs at my trousers letting it fall to my ankles alongside my panties. He roughly grabs onto my thighs hoisting me up further along the wall leaving kisses down my inner thigh. His warm breath hovering close to my uncovered heat making me squirm beneath his fingers. " Yunho- " I softly gasp. The mans pitch black eyes look into my soul as if I were his prey that he was getting ready to devour. He flashes a smirk only feeding into my erotic delusions, wanting him to swallow me whole. My leg resting on the top of his right shoulder, shuddering at his tongue gently playing with my folds and my emotions. Working on making my moans louder he fastens his pace with each taste. Yunho pauses and slowly inserts his fingers into me as his tongue is still finding all my most sensitive spots. " Y/N I've never tasted anything this satisfying and sticky before. " He says to me with his face covered in his own saliva and my nectar. I shake at his words as his fingers curl up and penetrates more aggressively making my voice quiver with eagerness. " Fuck- " My mind goes blank at the ecstasy I was experiencing, Yunhos hand covers half of my face not allowing me to breath or speak. As I'm reaching my peak Yunho abruptly stops and lets out a devilish giggle. " Oh- you thought I was going to let you finish just by my fingers? " He brings his face to my neck, softly kissing me while he slowly removes his hand from my mouth, now exposing my swollen damp lips. Yunho raised his head to be level with mine, revealing his dark glossy eyes begging me to fuck him.

" Ever since I've felt the inside of your mouth, I needed to know what you felt like inhaling my cock. " He signals me with his eyes darting down to his crotch

" Let me just feel it. Just this once. Please. " Yunho pleads in a desperate tone. Still on his knees, I slump down and roughly push him against the booth door. Now on my knees, feeling the carpet underneath me I find the courage to lean into and undress him. I hastily unbutton his trousers, dipping down to gently brush his tip and glide down to his shaft with my palm, I bring my lips closer to his cock teasing him with my tongue in circular motions while he lets out low hums and groans, showing me he can't hold still anymore. Losing breath with each movement, nosediving onto his cock, I slide my hand up his torso finding the bumpy sensation of each bead on his rosary. He agilely holds mine and his hand closer to his rosary as if he were holding onto it in hopes of asking for, forgiveness from his god. Those vigorous eyes of his rolling toward the back of his skull as I continue to swallow him with force. " Holy- fuck Y/N... I want to feel the inside of you. No- I need to feel the inside of you. " I feel his hands snatch my face, his thumb and middle finger digging into my cheeks halting me from pleasuring him further. He pulls me in closer, our bodies now suctioned and covered in sweat. As I'm leaned onto his chest his fingers dig deep into my core watching me intently to see if I reach my climax. Saving myself, I try my best to hold out until I can feel him fully inside me. He draws his cock closer to my heat allowing the tip to gently brush against the opening, teasing me with small shoves. Clutching my hand over my mouth holding in suffocated whines and moans, he quickly thrusts into me with exceptional force, breaking my hand away from my lips. " Fuck- Yunho! Mmm. " His eyes widen from excitement leading him to shove further into me creating rapid forbearing movements. My bottom ricochets on his thighs as we build a sweltering heat and our scents interlace with one another. Yunho's veiny hands tightly holding onto my waist nearly breaking skin as I bounce harmoniously with his motions. " Y/N your face is so fucked out it's making me want to consume the entirety of your feverish hole. " Turned on by his statement I start to ride him tightly and lean my head into his neck, letting him know how badly I want his cock further inside me " Yunho. " Knowing just saying his name will send him in a spiral. " I want your cock buried so deep inside me... that I forget you're even a priest. " Hearing the word

" priest " made him flinch, failing to remember that he is indeed one. Those words flicked a switch making him drive deeper, his shaft disappearing inside my core. Moans escaping both of our lips as we both ride in unison, his fingers wrapped around my neck blocking my airway. I let out soft restricted gasps as his hands are still around my neck. Gazing into his eyes I find them pleading for me to take control. " How badly do you want me to dominate you Yunho? " He lets out a breathy choke. " I want to worship you... and you to guide me to my worship. I so badly want want you to be my god Y/N. " Hearing those words made me shiver with anticipation and excitement so I pick up my pace riding him more vigorously, finding my fingers now wrapped around his neck. Not allowing him to say a single word as I keep bouncing on him, hearing nothing but muted moans and his eyes nearly turning white as they fall back from pleasure. I release my hands permitting him to breath properly, hoping I hear him whimper out my name. " Mmm... mmm.... Y/N, who said you should stop? " Taken back by how bold his statement was I tightened my grip around his neck once more. " Is this how you like it? " I whisper in his ear. Yunho grabs my ass, pushing me down to ride him harder and faster. " This is how I like it. " He says to me with a soft whine. As we are about to reach our peak Yunho slides his fingers down to my clit, rubbing circular patterns and causing me to jerk and tear up. " Does this make you forget that I'm a man of god? " I didn't know how to speak at that moment so all I could muster was " Mhmmm. F-fuck. Yunho. " Wanting to return the same energy I reach my free hand down and massage his sensitive area making him buck up farther inside me. Our voices becoming a harmony as we both let out light moans and whimpers finally allowing ourselves to climax. "Ahh. Yunho. F-fuck." I start to spasm as I'm enfolded him, reaching euphoria and letting my mouth fall open. " Fuck. Y/N. " He quickly pulls out of me to cum onto his own fingers as I help stroke him softly to his finish.

We both look at each other with a hazy and blurred vision, our hair and clothes both turned upside-down. " So... did I feel like a god? " I giggle knowing that he's probably slightly embarrassed at his bold words. Yunho's cheeks turn feverish as he responds with a soft and kind " You really did... I forgot where we were. " Turned on by what he had just admitted I lean into his lips and tenderly kiss him, pulling away slowly I say " I want you to worship me every Sunday. Can you do that? " His eyes widen and he grasps tightly around my waist tugging me to close our proximity. " I'll worship you not only on Sundays... but everyday if you will allow me to. " Leaving wet sweet kisses on each others faces, we look to each other knowing this would permanent. " I'll allow it, but only because your whimpers sounded so cute. "

We gather our clothing and brush through our hair with our fingers, trying to make ourselves presentable. As we make our way out of the confession booth Yunho grabs hold of my wrist. " I think I've found my purpose and thats you Y/N. " He says to me with a sincere smile. Hearing those words leave his mouth cause tears to form in the corner of my eyes, no one has ever said something so kind to me before. Yunho reaches down to cup my cheeks, wiping away the tear droplets running down my face " I'll never stop adoring you. " He says in low raspy tone. Maybe there was a reason for me to end up here, and maybe that reason is Jeong Yunho.

FIN. 

[lenavonschweetz]

Grace For Sale

Sam Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: Your town could definitely handle themselves, but a little help isn’t something you’d willingly turn down.  When the Winchesters show up - do things get better, or worse?

Warnings: language, anti-religious sentiments, slight religious inner conflict, angst? If you squint?, smut, Under 18 keep faaaar away.

A/N: Takes place during s5:e17 - 99 Problems.  So funny story, I actually AM a preacher’s kid so this episode kinda made me laugh then gave me the idea for this.  Title comes from The Devil’s Carnival.  Also, this has been sitting in my drafts for literal years, guess it’s about time I post it. As always, I don’t have a beta so please excuse any typos. I’ll fix any that are pointed out to me.

Enjoy!

Sam and Dean aren’t exactly sure what to make of your little town.

The welcome wagon was a little more off the wall than they were used to - what with a firetruck full of holy water, a portable exorcism, and a group of civilians that actually knew about the things that go bump in the night.  Still, it wasn’t…the strangest introduction they’d encountered.

“So, are we gonna talk about that?”  Sam asks as Dean steers impala into town - right on the tail of the Sacrament Lutheran Militia’s truck.  What kind of a name was that anyway?

A church looms overhead, answering Sam’s unspoken question, and he wishes he hadn’t even asked.

It’s definitely the apocalypse, what with the devil’s trap brandishing the walkway up to the church door.

Sam’s eyes are heavy - spending the wee hours of the night fighting hellspawn will do that to you.  Especially when you’re bleeding out.  At least the militia had some quick fix first aid handy.

The first thing the brothers notice upon entering the sacred building is the couples standing at the alter, all facing the priest who prattles on about finding something special amidst the impending doom.  The second thing they notice is all of the townsfolk holding shotguns.

Sam scoffs.

“A wedding?  Seriously?”  How in God’s name - no, y’know what, scratch that - how in the Hell were they hosting a wedding at a time like this?

“Yup.  We’ve had 8 so far this week.”  The man to his right, Paul, says and it’s obvious Sam isn’t the only one who’s less than impressed.  At least they’re in good company.

It’s definitely the first time the brothers can be completely transparent in their introductions.  Sure, sometimes they’re found out, or sometimes they’re among other hunters.  But to tell an entire town - and a priest, no less - that they are demon hunters?  Yeah, that may take a little getting used to.

So is the priest toting a gun and the children packing salt rounds in the basement of the church.  Dean makes a quip about running scared or sticking around and making a home out of the place and Sam thinks he’d be leaning toward the later if the end of the world wasn’t resting on their shoulders.

But none of that explained how a whole town had taken up hunting.

Well, until the mystery prophet is introduced in the form of the “Packing Preacher’s” daughter - Leah.

Well…he’d been through stranger.

Dean makes a pass at her - right in front of her father.  The father.  Sam just rolls his eyes, gaze landing on the corner where another figure lurks.

Oh.

This one…he thinks…this one is much more his speed.

“Ah, my other daughter.”  Pastor Gideon says, holding a hand out to beckon you forward.  Sam watches as you push off the wall and approach the group.  There’s little family resemblance, he notes, but definitely isn’t complaining.  While your sister is clad in muted colors, baggy sweater, and tennis shoes - you opt for something a little form-fitting under your dark leather jacket with the combat boots to match.  You scream ‘hunter’, ‘capable’, and ‘danger’ more than anyone else in this town and he has trouble tearing his eyes off of you.  Now, you’re not complaining.  In fact, your eyes linger on Sam just as much as he does on you.  And when he realizes this, the mountain of a man becomes a flustered mess.   It brings a smirk to your face and a blush to his.  “Y/N, this is Dean and Sam Winchester.”

“So I’ve heard.”  You chuckle, arms crossing in front of the very cleavage Sam’s staring at beneath your open flannel.  You cock a brow, baiting him, though he seems too nervous with your father present to answer the challenge.  “Shame Leah never mentioned you.  Though,”  you cast an appreciative glance over their strong frames and Sam very nearly shivers.  Beside him, Dean practically preens.  “I can see why.  If I knew fine specimens such as yourself were going to be crashing in our little town, I’d keep it to myself too.”

The Father is none too amused when you wink at your sister and the two of you share a giggle.  Again, Sam notes the distinct lack of resemblance but brushes it off.

“Y/N,”  Your father says in warning, which you completely ignore and grant the taller Winchester another ravenous once over before turning on your heel.  If anyone asked, you would deny that you were overemphasizing the swing of your hips.

“If you need me,”  you tell him without so much as a glance, calling over your shoulder as you saunter up the basement stairs.  “I’ll be at Paul’s!”

—————

The next time you see the brothers, it’s at the house Leah’s vision lead you to.  Well, actually, that’s a lie.  You saw them the night before at Paul’s bar, but they seemed to be wrapped up in a very important conversation - if the concentration on their brows had anything to say about it. 

Still, that hadn’t stopped you from ordering the brothers a couple of beers.  To his credit, Paul doesn’t judge you - which is a lot more than you can say for your family as of late - and even brought the boys their drinks so that you could do the ever so clique cheers across the bar.

Sam merely nodded in his head in thanks, raised his own beer with a silent ‘cheers’, then went back over to his brother.

So you couldn’t get a better read on them that night.  That’s ok.  It gave you the perfect opportunity to ogle to your heart’s content.

They were some fine specimens, that’s for sure.  The perfect hunters.  Sharp eyes, strong statures.  Hell, Sam looked like he could take out multiple demons all on his own - I mean, come on.  Those arms!

God, you had gotten such a perfect look at them while they brooded and planned what with the way Sam’s sleeves had been rolled and pushed up to his elbows.  Had you ever found forearms as attractive as you did at that moment?  Probably not.

And that jawline?  Christ, you could cut glass on that thing.

The sideburns may have been a little much, but hell, if that was all you could pin as off, you’d take it! 

Your ogling session had been cut short by the bell tolling - another of your sister’s visions - and after arguing with your father in front of the whole church that ‘yes, I am going with them’ - your hunting group was on the doorstep of the abandoned home.  Most of the townspeople are toting guns full of salt or sprayers of holy water, all armed with the ridiculous incantation your sister had told you to use to exorcise them.

But not Sam.  No, Sam was only wielding a knife, and God did he make it look easy.  If you weren’t too busy kicking ass and getting your ass kicked, you’d be drooling over that too.

Only when the dust settles do you take the opportunity to approach the brothers.

“You really are the hunters my sister made you out to be.”  Sam’s perfect eyebrow arches at that, gaze flickering to the way your chest rises and falls with your heavy panting.

“You didn’t think we would be?”  You mirror his smirk and shrug, ignoring the way Dean is eyeing the two of you like he knows exactly what’s going on in your head.  Honestly, he probably did.  Dude seemed about as horny as you did.

 “So,” Sam pants, following the group out of the house.  You miss the way he’s eyeing your ass as you’re just steps ahead of him.  “That’s what it’s like.”  There’s no shortage of sexual innuendo in his voice and you decide to poke the bear a little more.  Whether your father was in earshot or not.

“What what’s like?”  You’re turned to him now, handing in your pockets and treading carefully backward.  He meets your hungry look with one of his own and shivers absolutely rattle your body.  Again he smirks, making sure the coast is clear of your father before saddling up right next to you.

“Having back up.”  He all but whispers in your ear, large hand grazing just inches above your bottom and god, how did he make such an innocent statement sound so filthy.  There’s no way he misses the way you tremble and sigh, not with the way he smirks at you while walking away.

You’re not sure what’s going to kill you first.  The Demons or your insatiable need for Sam fucking Winchester.

—————

Neither.

Neither of those things is gonna kill you first.

Because it’ll be your father that kills you.

Because you’re going to fucking murder your sister.

After the Winchesters brought back a murdered Dylan…well, things were tense. People started to resent them and the warm welcome they had initially received turned cold. Only you and Paul would speak to them without adding to the guilt you knew they already felt.

You knew it wasn’t their fault.  Hell, half of you had been through it before - coming off a hunt all together too cocky and not aware of the demon that still lurked around until it was too late.  Dylan was a good hunter.  Dean and Sam were good hunters.  It had happened to the best of you.  And so you do what you always did - you held a funeral and vowed to be more vigilant next time.

But that wasn’t enough for the townspeople.

Or for your sister.

No, she had to go and suck the fun out of everything.

No drinking, no gambling, no pre-marital sex.

All per the angels’ command, of course.

“What a crock of shit.”  The empty glass thunks against the wood of the bar - as hollow as you feel right about now.  Paul only echoes your sentiments and pours you another glass.  The only thing that pulls you from your ire is the bell signifying a newcomer.  For the first time since Leah’s proclamation, your scowl softens as the person you wanted to see most walks right through that door.

“So, what happened to, uh,” he makes a grand gesture to the empty bar - earning a snort from the two of you,  “’the apocalypse is good for business’?”

“Yeah, right up until Leah’s angel pals banned the good stuff.”  Paul says, earning a groan from you as you pinch the bridge of your nose at your damn sister’s name.  “Y/N’s here helping me kill some inventory.”  Sam chuckles at the glass you raise, tipping it toward him and saying ‘I’m only doing the good work.’  “Want to help?”

With a drink in hand, Paul pours a shot for each of you.  He doesn’t hold back on his opinion of the ‘holy rollers’ nor their hypocrisy, to which Sam calls him out for his noticeable lack of faith.  Paul shrugs it off, defending his honorable lack of prayer.

“Look, there’s sure as hell demons.  and maybe there is a god, I don’t know.  Fine.  But I’m not a hypocrite.  I never prayed before and I ain’t starting now.  If I go to Hell, I’m going honest.  Besides,”  Paul nods to you just as you put your shot glass - empty again - back on the bar.  “I figure if this one can get away with it, so can I.”  Sam’s eyebrows raise at that, eyes finding you.

“You either?”

“I grew up in the church,” you explain.  “I’ve seen how the…holiest of us all can be far worse than the ‘hooligans’ of the world.”  You wink at Paul, air quotes bouncing as you mimic your father’s ‘preacher’ voice.  The two of you share a laugh and you miss how Sam’s fingers tighten around his glass along with his jaw at the intimacy you two seem to share.  “Yeah, I believe in some kind of higher power.”  You continue, focus shifting to the Adonis beside you.  He doesn’t miss the bitter tone your voice takes on. “But I don’t believe in the church.  The organized religion crap.  Never been too big on it.  But then, neither had Leah.  And now, out of nowhere, she’s some chosen prophet?”  You scoff.  “I dunno.  I just can’t trust it.  And like Paul said, I’m no hypocrite.  I know I’m messed up.  Won’t pretend otherwise.”

This time when you regard Paul, patting his hand as one would a brother, Sam’s shoulders relax.

“Yeah, I, uh…I know what you mean.”  A moment of heavy, thick silence passes between the two of you before you’re pressing him for his thoughts with nothing more than a look.  “I believe.”  But he doesn’t sound so sure.  More convincing himself than he is you, maybe, so you stay quiet and let him work through his thoughts.  “Yeah, I do.”  He says, more assured this time.  “I’m just pretty sure God stopped caring a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”  A big sigh breaks from your chest, one of those sighs that comes when you feel like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, and suddenly this conversation is too heavy for how drunk you are not and for how drunk you want to be.

After a few moments, a morbid, hindsight joke blooms in your head and you can’t help but laugh, noting the questioning look on your drinking buddies’ faces.

“Guess those newlyweds knew something we didn’t.”  You chuckle, taking a pull of your drink.  “Tied the knot before Leah could restrict ‘em.  Betcha they’re bangin’ like rabbits right about now.”  The liquor burns, smothering your humorless chuckle as you knock it back.  “Lucky bastards.”  

Behind the bar Paul chuckles, noting the tension in the air, the sudden shift of mood, and takes his exit - mumbling something about grabbing more from the back. Neither you or Sam really hear him, though - too wrapped up in the other’s stare you share at what you’re implying.  

Helluva wingman, that Paul.

Once the two of you are alone, Sam swivels in his chair until his long legs drape open and you have to force yourself not to look down.  A bushy, perfectly masculine brow arches.  Then he speaks - voice low and sweet and pure sin.

“Really?  You, uh, don’t seem to have much issue with breaking the no-drinking rule.”  And it isn’t a question.  He flicks the back of his fingers against your glass, warm eyes staring right at you as the faint tinkling tickles your ears.  Your heart shutters in time with the tinkling of skin on glass and you don’t realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip until his eyes flicker to it.  “You gonna draw the line at pre-marital sex?”

“Now, Sam Winchester...who said I would do that?”  The look you fix him with has him adjusting his suddenly too-tight pants.

“Not afraid of being damned?  Of not being one of the ‘chosen’?”

“I’m no ‘chosen’.”  You scoff, bouncing air quotes once more.  “That’s my sister.  Me?  I’m just the poor little preacher’s kid who lost her faith a long time ago.”   It isn’t seductive talk - in fact, it’s dark as hell.  But he asked, and like you’d said before - you were no liar, and you were no hypocrite.  You turn to your companion, renewed .  “But you know…there is a curfew.”

The tonal shift isn’t subtle, but that doesn’t keep the space between you from growing ever smaller, Sam’s large hand sliding up your thigh and again you must fight off the urge to shiver.  Especially when he lowers his voice once more, those big hazel eyes glancing at you from under his full, coal black lashes.

“Is that so?”  A squeeze to your thigh, and you jolt just the tiniest bit, to Sam’s great amusement.

“My place is right around the corner.”  You explain with a shrug, that damn lip caught between your teeth again. And suddenly in the dark, empty bar, you don’t care if you are damning yourself to hell.  As long as it’s at the hands of Sam Winchester, you’ll go willingly.

—————

The wall of your entryway meets your back sharply, a hiss of pain escaping you momentarily before it’s silenced by Sam’s eager lips.

Hurried hands rid you of your clothes, his own falling like breadcrumbs alongside yours until the two of you are falling on to the bed.  Fingers skilled at far more than knife-wielding ghost up your thighs, featherlight touches leaving a fire under your skin.  He’s slow in his undoing of you.  Reverent even.  Watches the way you keen beneath him, begging for his fingers.  Holds your eyes as he drags those fingers through his lips before trailing the wet tips down your front. When he finally gives them to you, one long digit sliding right up to the knuckle, your teeth break the skin of your lip just enough to hurt and you’re gasping - begging for more - which he gives to you, gladly. Working you until you’re ready for him and at the precipice of falling over the edge.

He had looked good in his clothes, sure, but god damn he’s ten times more beautiful out of them.  Infinite smooth, golden skin lays beneath your greedy fingers, a dusting of fine hair contouring the plane of his chest and down below his waistband.  Your mouth waters and you tug impatiently at his jeans.

“Someone’s eager.”  He chuckles, low and husky, standing to drop both pants and boxers.  Oh.  Good God.

“Oh, you have no idea.”  You only break your eyes away to grab a condom before you shove him on his back and straddle those strong thighs.  "I've been wanting to get your clothes off since the second I laid eyes on you."

"Trust me," he breathes - no, borderline growls - and you shutter, walls fluttering at how fucking empty you are and just how fucking bad you need him inside of you right now.  "The feeling's mutual."

He’s big all over, just like you expected, and even rolling the latex over his thick shaft has you shivering in anticipation.  The action doesn’t go unnoticed by the gigantic man beneath you and before you can react, he’s rolling his hips with a moan that takes your breath away.  It takes immense focus to speak through your gasp.

“Don’t finish this before it’s even started, Winchester.”  He laughs at your warning, fingers digging into your thighs and ass.  Oh, this man is going to wreck you, you just know it.

“You have so little faith in me?”  A quip lies on your tongue, something about having no faith at all, but that melts into a strangled moan the second his fat head presses past your opening.  “Oh, Christ.”  He hisses, teeth clenched and head thrown back in unadulterated pleasure at the feel of you, your hips rolling slowly as you try your best to take the overwhelming size of him.  Your fingers digging into supple pecs does nothing to ebb the overwhelming feeling of Sam spearing you open.

“Leave him outta this.”  You quip, sinking down the rest of the way - finally.  You both shiver at the feeling of him fully seated in you before you start rocking against him.

Not much else is said - not much else needed to be said - as the two of you chase relief and distraction in each other.

The stretch burns in the best way and you realize you're going to be feeling this for days.  Every step, every shift is going to take you right back here - your hands splayed out on sculpted pecs, Sam's angelic and angular face contorted in ecstasy as he does his best to keep his eyes open and watch you ride him for everything he's worth.  Those big hazel eyes blink up at you, fluttering and rolling at a particularly deep stroke before they're suddenly open - fiery and determined.  There's no time to even tease or question before he's pistoning up into you, his marble body rubbing yours in such a way that has you gasping for air, his massive hands splayed over your ass to keep you exactly where he wants you. Sloppy thrusts turn to rocking hips and the new angle has your toes curling.

His cock grazes just the right spot with every rock of his hips, both of you whispering moans and groans of the other’s name.  You do your best to keep up, rolling your tired hips when you can, nails biting into his skin when you have to focus solely on not imploding right where you are.

Your orgasm crests, and you beg him to go faster - to take control - and he does, practically throwing you onto your back to angle you the exact way he wants to.  The height difference is dizzying - even with you on your back and him on his haunches - all you can see while he hammers into you is the brand on his chest.  You itch to bite into the ink, to make him mewl against your skin once more but all rational thought flies out the window when his thumb reaches between your splayed legs, presses in tight, dizzying circles, and sends you spiraling into oblivion as aftershock after aftershock rocks your nerves.

In the aftermath of it all - after you’ve seen white from the intense pleasure he milked out of you - you lie in a daze.  Memorizing the way his hands feel as he wipes some of his spend off your chest.  Jesus, the sounds that man had made when he came...you have half a mind to tie him down and never let him leave - your sister's 'orders' be damned.

“It’s past curfew, y'know?”  You remind him, fingers tracing the divots and curves of his abdomen.  God, he’s perfect.  You could spend hours memorizing every inch of skin.   Pity said skin disappears behind thick flannel once more.  You bite back a disappointed groan, casting your eyes over his massive stature.  You don't think you'll ever get over just how small he makes you feel - in the best possible way, of course.  Especially when he flashes that perfect fucking smile at you, dimples and all.

“Yeah?  What about it?”  He urges, a shit-eating grin playing at his lips as he dares you to ask him to stay.  You sit up on your knees then, leveling yourself with his chest and drag your fingers down once more.  "Something you want to say, Y/N?"  If possible, his grin grows wider when you crook an eyebrow at him, beckoning him to your level with a come hither finger to match.

“If you’re waiting for me to ask you to stay, Sam Winchester,"  you whisper, lips ghosting over his own and you take great pride in the way his sinfully long lashes flutter against the tops of his sharp cheeks.   "You can keep waiting.”  The low groan that escapes his throat when you cup him once more makes you ache in the absolute best way.  You're seconds away from throwing your pride to the wind and pulling him back into bed with you.  But this is the end of the world after all.  No doubt he has other pressing matters to attend to.

“Yeah, well, as much as I would love to…I should get back before Dean gets worried.”  Disappointment laces his words, but you’re both too grown-up for any fairytale crap.  Your life felt like more a horror lately than a fantasy, anyway.  So, with incredibly gentle fingers, he pulls your hand toward his lips, grazing them over your knuckles as his eyes bore into yours.  Hmm, he plays dirty.

“Yeah…my dad’s probably expecting me at the church.”  You offer lamely, though there's probably some truth to it.  Not one night goes by without a demon attack or a vision from the chosen sister.  You're surprised you haven't been interrupted by a frantic call from your father already, as a matter a fact.  He smiles at you again, your heart running rampant as he's tossing the towel down to wrap his arms around your waist once more.  The look in his eyes and the hardness pressing into your belly are tempting enough, but you manage to grit out a warning "Sam..."

“And here you are, sinning with the outsider.”  He rumbles, smirking as his eyes drink in your face for - most likely - the last time.  You return his smile, reeling him in for one last kiss...or twelve.

“Yeah, well, if I’m going to hell anyway, may as well make the road there fun.”

If only you knew the literal hell that awaited you in the next few hours…

FIN

[neptuniadoesstuff]

My Reference Sheet of Phen 228.

A "censored" Ref of my ver of Phen 228 (Canon) for my Modern AU aka "Branches of a Paranormal Federation".

(What is censored are the faces & the severed limb as those are where the gøřə is.)

Bio (Major):

|| Code Name: Phen 228 | Aliases: "Watanabe Bird", "The Boiled One", Hakunata (Based on strange written letters that look similar to English) | Year & Place of Discovery: 2003, Pennsylvania (By the Ephrata Branch) | Current Wearibouts: Unknown | Other: Was discovered to have other variants of it whom have somewhat similar abilities although with different out comes | Main abilities: Cognito-Hazardous properties (When looked at, can cause quesdocoma & the manifestation of its being, can't be seen by others, only ones who are effected) | Ways to combat the effects: Wear blue-light glasses & earplugs, must be about 5 feet away from the screen at all cause ||

(Btw this is just info the Ephrata Branch has put down, as I'll be putting my own info here based on my head canons & the design/lore I gave Phen myself for this au. Although the Hakunata part is only for this AU & not the canon lore. This includes the design.)

(WARNING INCOMING! BL00D, GUTS, & GØŘƏ WILL BE HERE, PROCEED WITH CAUTION! FOR THESE ARE THE UNCENSORED REFS + FULL BODY REFS OF PHEN 228!)

(Also... Slight disturbing imagery for the reference photo)

The actual uncensored ref sheet & the full body ref. Yeh uh.. they look pretty messed up lookin but it's clear that Phen rlly isn't supposed to look.. Clean.. (Although I am waiting till the simps arrive.. Which I hope they don't-)

Bio (Written by... an outsider aka me lol)

|| Name: [REDACTED] | Aliases: Hakunata (A nickname given to by his sister) | Gender: Interseggs/Genderless (But is represented as male), He/They/It (Or any Pronouns but those are preferred) | Age: 100? (Not sure, I doubt Phen has a canon age-) | Height: Whatever rlly (But is normally like... REALLY TALL-) | Pride: No Idea. I doubt this spirit demon thing cares about being attracted to anything- | Species: A strange hybrid of a human & fallen angel | Family: A child named "Rei" & some other Phens (Example: Kasinoshi or "Priest) | Personality: Somewhat malicious, is a bit obsessive with a certain family, but seems to... weirdly care about his victims? (Idk its a whole bag of worms) | Occupation: Some false prophet frikker idk. Might've been a war criminal from Japan in a past life (WWII) | Powers: Able to give anyone who looks at it w/o protection pseudocoma & sleep paralysis, also able to communicate with anyone who is affected with their "curse". Can fly apparently (But is pretty lazy & doesn't rlly use their phantom arms to fly at all) | Other (aka unimportant stuff): Prob likes torturing a certain family he effected back in 2003, despises kids (except its own), gets very uncomfortable with anything sus (like me), loves stealing & consuming ppl's spines, prob not understanding how modern tech work, might commit a few war crimes here & there (which is a big nono), & is usually seen indulging himself in some Japanese things bcs it reminds him of the old times (Yes even the modern stuff) ||

& here is the Original/Reference Image!

(Update: fix some stuff in the Extra info thing bcs I don't grammar well.)

Credits lol-

Character: Phen 228 (Belongs to Doctor Nowhere aka Silas) (Although the design of Phen 228 not from the original image belongs to me.)

Art: Mine.

Reference Image Creator: Silas Orion aka Doctor Nowhere.

Program: IbisPaint x.

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my blog's pinned post clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PLEASE CREDIT ME!

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose, Chapter Seventeen (Loki x fem! Reader Hiddlesverse Crossover Miniseries)

Series Summary: Based on Sarah J Mass's A Court of Thorns and Roses series with the Tom Hiddleston characters. You are a woman of 1880's in Aldwinter in Essex, England, dying of tuberculosis. Never to be married to the local Lusty Vicar. When Loki appears to you and offers to heal you...if you spend a week of every month with him

Chapter Summary: You have returned to Aldwinter. And begin to set plans for your revenge on Will.

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Some spicy stuff but no actual smut (please forgive me, the chapters in this fic are long enough), mentions of cheating and portraying Will's cheating as bad I am very blatantly against the Will/Cora pairing in The Essex Serpent and it shows so if you like either character or the pairing, you have been warned. Mentions of sex and religion and violence and abandonment. Supporting Women's Wrongs.

A/N: Thanks to @muddyorbsblr for the brilliant ideas about how Reader could get her long due revenge and the great suggestions!

Also,

Happy New Years Eve! Instead of going to clubs and drinking and partying or being invited to a party, I'm spending it editing fanfiction. So this is to all of you out there who too feel a little lonely like me and like you should be out there doing partying and "normal" things...you aren't the only one, and I'm sending you a hug.

I hope you enjoy the start of the "next" season of Court after that cliffhanger! Leave a comment or reblog or send me an ask or dm if you especially liked it! Happy 2024!

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You could still recall your wedding with Loki.

It was night. The moons shone above. Stars sprinkled across the sky as people laughed and went out to restaurants and taverns. They weren’t the ones about to find a cauldron. They could go on in ignorance and always in safety.

But your own pulse was picking up as you held Loki’s hand. Excitement and nervousness.

You both walked into a temple, a building with a garland of roses over the door. For even gods still needed worshippers. Inside, there were two priests going about. An old man and a younger man in fine golden robes swept the floors. The younger one turned and gasped, tugging the sleeve of his sage.

They recognized Loki and both bowed.

“Ah, great prince and god of mischief, what brings you here?” the older one asked.

“I want you to marry us!” Loki announced.

Their jaws dropped, and the brown eyes of the old man grew large.

“Without the…the consent of the AllFather?” the older priest asked.

“No- I do not need it. I am not a child anymore. I am a man grown and this is the woman I want to marry.” Loki said, gesturing to you.

You walked over and placed a hand on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you.

“This is one order I give you, both as god and prince- Perform a marriage between me and Y/N. The Jotun Prophet says she is my True Love- always shall be. Don’t break the True Love Bond. Perform a marriage ceremony. I’ll reward you handsomely if you do.”

They relented. The Older Priest led you both to the large altar in the next room. It had a tall statue of Frigga smiling with outstretched hands from her gown’s sleeves. Firewood was brought to make a nice kindling blaze in the fireplace from the younger priest to the fireplace in the room.

The older priest gestured you both to You walked around it to the wooden table placed right before the statue. It was covered in runes in its tan wood. There was a small dagger, a cornucopia, and a tall, white candle that the elder priest lit with fire from the fireplace. The younger priest stood to bear witness, as well as holding a spare marriage contract for you both.

“The AllMother might feel a slight twinge in the air tomorrow, for marriage is part of her realm. But yet…if you are certain, then you are certain. Any last things you would like before we begin?” asked the older priest.

“It feels a little more like a lamb is about to be sacrificed than a wedding,” you shyly commented, for the Christian weddings of home were more what you were used to.

“The AllMother doesn’t like offerings of lamb!!” laughed the older priest.

“Here- let me make it more decorated, then,” Loki offered.

With a flick of his hand, there were flowers everywhere. Soft roses in bloom, their perfume a gentle caress in the air. They decorated the statue and the altar. Flower crowns were placed on the two priests, much to their amusement.

“Should I go back home and get that lacy bustle dress then? I know it’s your favorite” you teased Loki.

He gave you a small laugh, then lifted his hand and flicked it in the air.

Golden light came down from over your heads, he gave himself rich green robes with gold armor plates over his shoulders Both a prince and a groom.

You looked as the magic went over you and your clothes transformed on your body. You were given a long dress that was a soft blush pink to compliment his green. It shimmered when light touched it. It showed your shoulders but the sleeves were so long they draped to the floor, the way that a few of the queen’s dresses did. For that was what a woman of royalty wore. The bodice made a heart shape over your chest. On your head was a long veil that went down your back and onto the floor of sheer material, forming a beautiful train melting into a lacelike pattern. It made you look like you floated.

You smiled up at him.

“It’s beautiful, thank you!” you gasped.

Loki smiled, then nodded at the priest for him to begin.

You clasped hands. There was a prayer and some milk poured into a bowl and placed at the feet of the statue as an offering to Frigga..Loki conjured daggers for you both to trade, symbolizing how you would protect each other.

“Now, make your vows to each other,” signaled the Priest.

Loki held your hands. Though the priest whispered the words in his ear, he repeated it with sincerity.

"I, Loki, do swear before the AllFather and AllMother, take you to be my wife, my friend, my lover, and my companion. From this day until only death do us part. I pledge you my fidelity, refusing all others as long as we live. My softest words and tenderest embraces. I shall choose to respect you and choose to love you. In my bed and on my table. In battle and in peace. In sickness and in health. In joy and in sorrow. Day and night. From this hour, as long as we both live."

You took his hands and repeated what the priest whispered into your ear.

“I, Y/N, do swear before the AllFather and AllMother, to take you to be my husband, My friend, my lover, and my companion. From this day until death do us part. I pledge you my fidelity, refusing all others as long as we live. My softest words and tenderest embraces. I shall choose to respect you and choose to love you. In my bed and on my table. In battle and in peace. In sickness and in health. In joy and in sorrow. Day and night. From this hour, as long as we both live."

Then Loki’s magic brought up the ring- the very one you won from the Weaver’s cottage.

“That was why the Weaver thought I earned it…even she knew…” you wondered.

“She’s a matchmaker then, who knew,” Loki teased.

Loki placed it gently around your finger. He conjured a ring that you slipped through his finger.

There was a final prayer and chant. The younger priest brought forth the document which you both signed.

“Now seal it with a kiss- and all the nine realms shall consider you husband and wife,” announced The Older Priest.

You did, happily. Embracing each other and locking lips. They both smiled and applauded. Loki paid them generously with a conjured bag of coin.

You both were still holding hands as you hurried home. Your wedding gown and his shoulder plates glowing in the moonlight.

With the crowds around Asgard, you could slip by unnoticed. But you were smiling. He was red-cheeked, almost running and pulling you with him until you picked up your skirt and met his pace. You ran together back home at an equal speed. The thrill of being married at last soaring in your hearts.

You got home in your finery, clutching hands happily. At the entrance, no one came to meet you. The guards simply allowed you through, never asking questions.

“Husband…” you teased, tasting the word. Placing a hand on his warm chest. His eyes went big.

“In the older times, a marriage isn’t considered legal until it is consummated. Is Asgard…like that?” you asked with a slight giggle in your voice.

Loki took his hands around your waist.

“Better safe than sorry, then,” he agreed.

He scooped you easily into his arms and carried you right into his chambers. Taking you onto his green bed and laying you down.

He crawled on top of you and kissed you. Desire burned between your legs as he let in some of his tongue and touched your face, pulling you close. Hands greedily running down your body. Giggling you rolled over so he laid down and you were on top. The veil shimmered as it fell from your head into a melted, sparkly puddle on the floor. He let out a small gasp of surprise but laughed it off, his ivory face below you, his beautiful black curls splayed across the bed.

‘Now that we are wed, I’m going to make my wife scream with pleasure on our wedding night. And every night after that.”

His hands went to your hips, gripping the flesh beneath the cloth. You set yours on his broad shoulders.

“First I’ll have to spare your stallion and ride you instead!” you whispered.

“I love you, my wife… and princess,” he voiced.

“I love you too- prince and husband,” you said.

You began to grind him as he undid his own leather trousers. Then you pulled up your long skirts and began to sink onto his-

“O God, whose blessed Son was manifested that He might destroy the works of the devil and make us the children of God and heirs of eternal life:...”

The vicar’s voice broke you out of your memories.

That was just the past. And here you were in a familiar scene. The memory is still warm in your body though you were back in that sterile church.

“Grant us, we beseech thee, that, having this hope, we may purify ourselves even as he is pure…’ Will continued to intone, signaling the beginning of the service.

You were sitting dutifully on the front row next to your parents. Just as you did for a long time. You were back home in Aldwinter, but you did not feel like the same lovesick girl counting down the days to her wedding and smiling up at the vicar with love and even restrained lust.

No, you kept your eyes down to the checkered floor, hands positioned to pray. You wore a dark-colored dress, but you were not in mourning. You would paint the picture of piety and repentance here. Still aware of the eyes still on you. Of the gossip.

“She left our respectable rector for that god. Yet she’s back here and - bless him, he loves her! He’s going to marry Y/N anyway despite all of that! Despite her being ruined. Despite her betrayal,” was what they were whispering in their pews and parlors.

‘They got it wrong as to who ultimately betrayed who. Twice.’ you thought. But you held back that part of you in your head. It was rather talkative lately, but you knew better than to utter a word of your true thoughts.

You looked about. There was the old chandelier that hung up with unlit candles. You wondered how they stayed on. What would happen if one were to fall? Would it hit someone?

To your amusement, you realized one hung over where Will was standing. You wished you could make a candle fall to hit him on the curly auburn head. It would have been funny, even the congregation would laugh. But you didn’t.

It deserved to be a knife aimed at his skull instead.

Everyone kept their heads down, though sometimes a pair of eyes would meet yours.

You were back. You told them- your family, old friends, and neighbors- little of what happened. As far as they knew, you were enchanted. But the spell was broken. Yhat you were returned safely- to pray, repent, and process all that happened with Loki…

And sometimes you did. The things you never imagined you would see or do when you went to Asgard. You thought you would live a plain little life in a plain little town and that you were content to do so. Did they know that you learned how to wield swords and daggers? That you were blessed with magic? Of the people you met from other worlds and timelines and planets? Stole belongings or helped in their stealing? Escaped death multiple times? Fought? Even killed? That you found new friendships with queens, princes, and warrior women? Seen aliens? Been to a ball? Met gods and learned to love one and was even married to him?

Now- here you were. In your old clothes and old church. Did those grand adventures even happen at all?

You knew they did.

There were a few extra faces in the pews. For some in town were surprised by an influx of men who built small houses and stayed nearby. Some women were thrilled for a bunch of new bachelors and hoped for marriage with one of them. They all said they were part of a construction company and factory that was nearby…when really they were of Grendel’s army. Bullies and monsters, all of them. And it was none other than Will who agreed with Grendel to let them stay in the town…if Grendel got you back here to him.

Will’s sermon continued as normal. He seemed happy as he began to discuss Paul’s book of Romans. Once you would have sat up in rapt attention. But you could hardly pay attention to it anymore. He seemed like a ghost in his long white robes. He wore a long blue sash draping down his shoulders trimmed with gold with symbols on the ends. He smiled brightly as he stood before the congregation, folding his hands so they disappeared from his robe’s sleeves.

You heard the voice of your husband through the bond.

'I’m going to kill him,' Loki said clearly in your head.

'Not yet,' you replied.

'I’m going to get out my dagger, and stab him right where he is.'

'Loki, please, don't'

'Then I’m ripping a portal to this church, slinging you over my shoulder, and carrying my wife out of this place. Right. Now.'

'Loki, I wish you could- but consider: they're watching. The whole town is watching and not just now! Everyone is obsessed and looking for you. My parents keep the doors to the house locked except for when I go on my daily walk. Everyone has purchased a weapon. They’re searching like madmen for you in Aldwinter. It’s not safe for you to just barge in.'

Now people discussed the Trickster god who kidnapped and ravished women more than the Serpent that was just a dead whale. They searched everywhere. Children played games and whispered about him. One thought they saw him in the woods. Another thought they saw him in the marshes. People kept close eyes on their daughters- he took first you, then Stella twice, and who knew which lady would be next?

One day, there was a rowboat on the river in town. It nearly ran into another rowboat. And no fishing nets were inside.

“What are you out here for?” one rowman asked.

“Lookin’ for the Trickster god! He was sighted here, wasn’t he?” answered the other boat’s first rowman.

“Blast it, not if I find and shoot him first!” said another rowman from the other boat.

‘But, my dear pet-’ Loki continued to sigh.

‘No- I don’t want you to. Besides, even if you could quickly get me out, I don’t want to leave yet…not without seeing to it that Will is punished’ you sent to him.

'You do deserve revenge, Loki agreed “So I should turn into a cat again, trot up to him purring, and then jump out and stab him.'

'Loki, it is a habit of men to avenge women they love who were wronged. It is in many stories- it is always the woman who suffers and dies horribly because of a villain’s sins and it is not her, but the man who is allowed to live to avenge her. Those writers don’t understand we ladies are perfectly capable of exacting our own revenges. I would like to do it. I am the person Reverend Ransome has wronged most of all. If anyone should do the stabbing, it should be me.'

'Then get a knife and throw it towards him in church!' Loki suggested.

'No! He will duck and it shall be me who goes into jail and shall be killed, not him. I can’t just murder him willy-nilly and with no certain escape or sanctuary. I must be careful with this if I am to get away with it.'

Part of you was impressed by him. Making a deal for your safe return at least, done by a man whose heart couldn’t be settled on one woman. You were keeping your simmering rage at bay. You took a look at the church, you noticed the walls that seemed blue-green in the overcast sky when they were really white. The light brown pews and the table with a tall wooden cross on it with two candles between. The three chandeliers. The two windows that overlooked everyone were like eyes.

When you burned Aldwinter to the ground, the church would be first.

No, no you couldn’t. Why should so many innocent people suffer because of one man’s decisions? You had to figure out how to exact revenge on the reverend Will Ransome, in a way that would affect him and only him. And in a way that no one would suspect it was you.

The service continued on as normal. Though you were always in a half-sleepy, silent daze now instead of at attention, doing every repetition of prayers and singing each hymn and crossing yourself soberly.

Sunday evening, as always, a nice dinner was made for Will, your fiancee and guest. It was as if the letter you wrote to him ending things was never sent.

It was the same picture. Everyone sitting down in your house. Napkins draped across laps as forks and knives clinked with plates. The smell of the meal wafting- your mother’s roast with salad and bread and potatoes. Laughter and chatter.

You would make a smile appear on your face, eating politely and quietly.

Then your father made one clap and rubbed his hands, looking at you and Will.

“Now- let us discuss the wedding! Do you have a date selected, my dears?” he asked.

“We have discussed about the wedding a little more…” Will began.

‘But I’m already married,’ you thought, glancing down at the emerald ring always on your finger.

Then again, Will wasn’t known for respecting the boundaries of marriage.

The Lusty Vicar placed a hand over yours and held it.

“We will reschedule the wedding for next month,” Will suggested. His blue eyes shined to you. “Then, my angel, I shall finally call you my wife.”

‘I would rather the Serpent become real and devour me,’ you thought.

“It shall be lovely,” you replied with a small smile.

“We shall have a wedding- free of interruptions and no sickness and no spells. It shall be simpler, mind you- we all know how much the first one cost,” your mother added.

“A big wedding doesn’t matter as long as it’s with a good man who truly loves you,” you commented.

Will again looked at you softly. He spoke with a smoothness, almost a seductive tone, like when he proposed to you. Not caring the others were there. In fact, they enjoyed it.

“It was God who told me you were to be my bride, Y/N.”

‘But God didn’t tell me.’ you thought. You only looked up at him and smiled.

“And we shall spend our lives fulfilling His word together,” he continued.

‘Did God also tell you to stick your fingers up Cora’s-’

“Oh, how beautiful! To see you finally married off to this godly, lovely man!” your mother sighed out loud.

“I am the happiest woman in Essex, ” you replied.

He kissed your hands and left back home.

“Y/N, now that you are a parsonage bride, be sure to attend to your duties at the church tomorrow. You must become used to them,” your mother reminded you.

One idea hit you. A small step.

Revenge you realized, was similar to cooking or baking. When one has a recipe, there are all sorts of small ingredients to gather, steps to take, and things to measure and mix. Small steps. They don’t seem like much at first, but bit by bit, they became something bigger, grander.

“Yes, mother. I shall,” you replied dutifully.

The next afternoon, the church was empty. Only Will and a few others planning out events in the meeting room. You had to help keep it tidy and check plans for Sunday School, for you were now going to join as another volunteer teacher for the children. As you looked over the lesson plans with the other teachers, you reached out your powers through your gifts. Searching. Would they be where they were last…

They reached his office. To what was under his desk.

No box. And no personal mail.

The letters from Cora were not in his office, you realized. That would take some searching.

But another thing was near his office- the church treasury kept in a safe in the next room.

Another step to your revenge.

One of the benefits of being a vicar was that while a clergyman received some of the tithes, a vicar got all of them.

Of course, some of it went to support his own church and ministry as well as put bread on the table. Will was probably discussing the budget with them from the Sunday tithes.

Finishing the Sunday School lesson planning was done.

Your senses told you the room with the safe was empty.

The old woman who taught the children’s Sunday school chattered on. Usually, women could teach children and other women. It was rare for a woman to teach a Sunday School class that included men. You got up. Saying you were going to get a glass of water and to wait for the Reverend, excuse me.

No one was in the hall. You quickly hurried in, your steps soft. To not click on the floors. Your powers unlocked the door and you stepped in. The plain brown room with a plain grey safe.

Quickly, your senses managed to unlock it. Opening up to numerous checks and huge wads of cash and coins in baskets.

You got out a few things of cash. Taking off your shoe, you slipped it beneath your foot and then retied it on. You then locked it back. Quickly walking away. You went over to the church kitchens to get your glass of water and sip on it in one of the parlors, your eyes down in innocence.

When you got home, you sat down in your chair, claiming you were tired and needed to rest. You looked at the blue gloves you had been knitting recently. Your eyes focused, your powers embracing it. You let it rip open and then reattach, sewn back together easily.

You removed your shoes and got out the cash.

You took the money and placed it in a blank envelope. Oh, how you wished you could recreate handwriting! Then you would forge Will signing it! But you could not, as much as you practiced. That would have given you away.

So at night, when no one was around, no one walking the streets, you briefly slipped the letter under your door. Then you went back to continue to knit more gloves as your parents read.

'Move' you commanded the letter silently.

And it did- it began to drift through the dirt road. You sensed where Mrs. Seaborne resided and directed the letter there as it floated through the ground as if a breeze moved it.

'Go to her house, slip it under the door,' you commanded it.

Quietly as a firefly. It located the house of a certain widow and slipped it under the door.

Your parents then said you would have to read the Bible more, to prepare for your marriage, and gave you a new copy they had bought. You turned to the Old Testament book of Judges and silently read some as they continued their own post-dinner activities by candlelight.

You poured over one story in that book. There was once a tyrant named Sisera who had long oppressed the Hebrew people. After his army lost a decisive battle with the Hebrew forces, he fled like a coward. He discovered a tent where who should be there, but only an ordinary housewife named Jael. She knew what he had done. She let Sisera have her food and sleep there as a guest, promising him that he was safe. Then as he slept, she got out a tent peg and killed him by hammering it through his skull.

You wondered why there weren’t more sermons discussing Jael. Why many never even spoke of her. Or perhaps even knew of her.

So every day you sat, sewed, obeyed your parents and fiancee, and prayed and bided your time. You had to seem like Jael- an innocent, dutiful, pleasant woman who would only do what was asked of her. Then, when the time was right, you would drive the peg through the skull of your Sisera.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── Will loved to take long walks in the mornings. Especially through the fields, the forests, and by the sea. You realized each day you sensed him. They were like clockwork-mid morning after breakfast. Then he would go out for at least an hour. If not two.

That would be the perfect time to find the letters.

The next morning, you said you were out to walk and take care of some errands. Your parents thought nothing of it but wished you well. You walked out.

You walked into the town and through. Careful that none were watching you. You knew where it was. You had been there one night before.

There it was- the tall white house, the vicarage. There was a large, plain backyard save for the little house made of sticks for the dog to sometimes rest in.

The dog was already outside, leased to the house for safety as his keeper was out. The sweet, brown terrier. He went up to you, wagging his tail, for he knew you. You got him little treats of bread from your pocket that you fed to him, so he would be happy and not bark up a storm. No more than what would alert any passerbyes. After petting him for some time, you got back up to go to the vicarage.

Your powers unlocked the door and you went inside. Now you weren’t as clouded with emotion, you could look about the place.

It was light tan wood on the inside. There was a kitchen with an empty table and vase. A little fireplace. A parlor by the windows with cushions where one could watch the outside.

It was a large house. The right size for a man who was expected to start a family.

You turned past one door, peeking inside, and you saw a bedroom. A large blue bed, neatly made.

To think, that was where the wedding night that never happened would have taken place…

Then you continued, you felt odd. Nostalgic for something you never experienced…a life you never lived, had wanted to live, and in a way, still wanted to live.

There was his study. The wallpaper on it was green, full of vines, leaves, flowers, and even birds all over. Beautiful and elaborate. There was a window where sunlight poured through the window over his desk sat. Looking out to the countryside outside. There was an oil lamp where one just turned and there it was. So many papers and journals on his desk, yet in neat piles. But most impressive in his room were the bookshelves. His study was almost a library in itself- tall bookshelves. Full of books, more than you could name. It was likely they all were books of theology or even history or anything having to do with his ministry and studies.

You looked about, pausing and smelling the musk of the place. The beautiful wallpaper. The impressive collection of books.

You could almost feel it like wearing an old shirt- the life you once had. A life that was also within your grasp again. A life where you would live in this house as Mrs. Ransome.

To sit in that bed knitting next to him as he read. To sleep beside him and with him. To fulfill your marital duties at night with quiet passion. A life where you planned the activities the children would do in Sunday school on your kitchen table. Sew up white angel costumes for the Christmas pageant every year. To go and stand by his side helping to bring out alms on a day of charity.

Sweeping and scrubbing all day instead of intense physical training. No worries about Grendel, but of making sure the dinner would be warm when he got home.

One where you would gather flowers from your garden to plop into that vase, making them look nice. A life where you would fix tea and lemon biscuits, and deliver them on a tray to him in his study as he wrote his next sermon. To give it to him and he would smile up from his papers. A life where you would sit by the fire sewing, discussing whatever sermon was coming up next with him as he made notes. Plan recipes for the newest church dinner or picnic coming up and talk to him about who was making what. Picking pastel wallpaper for a certain special room in the future for both of you. Holding hands in the middle of services.

No quests, adventures, or fighting. A quiet life, a domestic, peaceful life. A life you could no longer have. A life no longer accessible -and a life you knew you could no longer let yourself want.

Your powers reached and you found you were correct in your suspicions.

The second desk drawer on the left side. The locked one.

Your powers unlocked it and it jiggled open. There inside were letters. The love letters from Cora to the Lusty Vicar.

Because he wasn’t known as the Faithful Vicar.

Though it made your heart race and your stomach turn, you picked up the letters and began to skim through some of them. You couldn’t take all of them or he would be immediately suspicious. You had to select only a limited number of them- so they had to be the most damning ones.

You turned past one discussing the Serpent to a piece of paper with Will’s handwriting on it. A draft of a letter to respond to her.

“I apologize for not writing, there was too much to say. I cannot think straight around you. I love you, Cora.”

Love- Love! He was sure it was love! You noticed the rest of it was full of scribbled-out words.

Then you found the next one from Cora. Two words in it stood out to you and nearly made you drop the paper.

“Come quickly.”

She was asking Will to leave you for her! The shock made the letter tremble in your hands and your vision went dizzy at the edges.

“Come quickly.”

Your mind then raced, imagined, as minds do… spiraling further in its self-destructive cycle of imagination. Will told you he wouldn’t leave you…he also said he loved you. Said that he still loved you…

“Come quickly.”

What if you already married Will…and he ran off with Cora?

You imagined the scene.

You could see it already in this house. You would be doing your daily duties humming a cheerful song. Refreshing the vase in the kitchen with flowers. Planning ingredients for dinner.

The day turned to evening…and realizing he was taking longer with his church duties than normal. Wondering if something happened. Already missing him as you dusted off the countertops. Full of happy memories of him in your earlier days of marriage. The light brown kitchen where he’d lay a gentle hand on your shoulder in fondness as you stirred the soup. The doorways you teased that he was too tall for. Looking through the dinner you were going to make that night.

Panic bubbled lightly as the sun dipped down and the day became night.

You would finally wander into his study. The light shining orange from his lamp…. There, on the table was a letter addressed to you from him. You would reach for it and read it.

“My dear wife, I am in love with Cora Seaborne. I cannot think straight around her…with her, there is too much to say. I am going with her. I ask for your blessing. I will make sure you are taken care of. Thank you, for your dear blessing on us and for our love.” Will.”

And enclosed were several bills of cash money.

For he knew a married woman could not submit a check at the bank, then the money would go to her husband.

And now, your husband was gone.

The utter shock. Rereading it to make sure it was real, that this nightmare was real. The rage. The tears. The brokenness washing over you. How you would shake. Holding onto his desk for support. Until your legs gave out- how you would collapse, sobbing. Those three little words that would feel like a kick over and over: “for our love.”

Then, you would wander into another room—the pastel one. For by now, there would likely be an occupant.

A little baby in a cradle.

A nursery decorated with the theme of Noah’s Ark. A painting of the wooden boat and of doves with twigs in their beaks on the wall. Full of little animal toys going two by two. Specially decorated for this child’s arrival.

To look down at the little infant in its cradle. So lovingly swaddled safe and warm. A child who was half you and half Will.

On one hand, perhaps it would be worse if he took the child with him. A child you would never know if you would see again, for a husband could deny his wife access to their children. The law saw the child as Will’s, not yours.

And he already found a new replacement, a new wife for him, and a new mother to this child.

It was as if you never mattered in the first place.

But now, the child would be babbling and looking around. Then it would burst into tears, for it missed the cradling arms of its father. You would shush it and try to rock it. Call their name, sing a lullaby in a broken, crying voice, and kiss their forehead- the last reminder of Will you’d always have by you.

To think, once this child was old enough, you would have to look them in the eye and explain why Papa wasn’t around like the other Papas were with their children, even if Papa was a priest. That Papa loved Mama…but he wasn’t in love with Mama.

How you would cradle that child to your chest, walking through the rain, the letter in your pocket. Trudging to your parents home in the middle of a rainstorm in the night. Knocking on the door. They’d open. Seeing a sobbing baby and a sobbing mother.

To tell them what happened. You couldn’t imagine what they would say, would do. They wouldn’t have the heart to even turn you down. But perhaps people would talk.

Maybe you didn’t cook as well. Maybe you were mad and had to be sent to an asylum. Maybe you weren’t as pretty as Cora. Or as interesting or clever. Maybe you didn’t pleasure Will enough in his bed and the Lusty Vicar had to be satiated somehow.

You would not be able to file a divorce. A husband who had an affair and now abandoned you was not the legal grounds for a wife to divorce a husband.

In the eyes of both God and the Law, you were still William Ransome’s wife.

Now…you had to stay married to him until only Death did you part or he decided to initiate a divorce. Even though you were the upright, godly, proper vicar’s wife…the law would not be on your side. Not as a woman.

To wait. For envelopes that had letters- and especially money. To live at the mercy of those envelopes. Hoping the cash would be enough. For food, for warm clothes for your child- no his child, for by the law, the child belonged to the father, not the mother. The humiliation, the pain, the loneliness.

All because Will and Cora were in love.

And all because a stupid whale carcass was what brought them together in the first place!

You wanted to take that lamp that sat at his desk and throw it at the wall until it shattered into a million pieces. You wanted to tear at that letter. Topple the bookshelves and rip apart every last book that belonged to Father William Ransome. Do every violent thing to destroy that room in a rage. To run to Cora’s house armed with a cane like what men and old people used to walk with. For it was she who wrote that letter in the first place. Ready to beat the tar out of her until she-

But no…that wasn’t real. That didn’t happen. This was real, you reminded yourself. You were just sitting in his office with shaking hands.

‘I am not the Unwanted Wife of Aldwinter…I am the Princess of Asgard. Loki loves me, he says I’m beautiful, that I am enough for him- that I am great and awe-inspiring…he is who matters now. I am. Beautiful, powerful, and dangerous. I have the Aesir people, the servants of the palace, the warriors, and the army and legion of Asgard at my disposal- and I shall strike into Will and Cora until they plead for the mercy I will never give them,’ you reminded yourself.

Your senses reached out again and you found old documents from when Will was granted the vicarage and position. You memorized the names of those who appointed him. You searched thoroughly until you found papers with the address of the seminary that appointed him. Taking a scrap piece of paper on the desk and his pen, you wrote their names, as well name of their building and its address. You wrote it down and then hid it in your stocking.

And you had to hurry- what if he decided to return soon? Your senses told you he was still walking outside…but you would not tempt fate.

Taking in a shaky breath, you returned the draft of his letter- you could take it. But if it was missing, he would suspect something was afoot. You set the draft down.

You planned to take two to damn Will. Instead, you took three love letters- including the “come quickly” letter. For she was going to be punished already as harshly as he.

You stuffed them into the pockets of your skirt.

You promptly left the vicarage back to town, taking a path that made it less suspicious you came directly from there.

You did a little grocery shopping, and returned, saying you had to walk to clear your head- you had a nightmare last night. About Loki. You poured a few tears and they fixed you some tea in consolation, telling you that your enchantment and the dreadful act of warming his bed was all over.

Then, once you were alone in your room, You took out the letters from your clothes and hid them your copy of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, which you kept firmly in your personal bookshelf.

They were ingredients left to simmer until boiling. You had the evidence and the first address to send one to. You now had to figure out where to send the other two to bring them down.

[cutephlegm]

Bloody knees

VI - The knight

Pairing: Enki x reader

CW: Description of gore

Read on Ao3

Summary: As you get closer to entering Ma'habre, you decide take rest for the night, only to be rudely awakened with a blade pressed to your throat. You decide to aid the culprit, who seeks out an imprisoned man, one that the priest seems rather familiar with.

It had been a couple hours so far since you and the priest had performed the ritual and the journey had become tiresome once more. You had both agreed never to speak of this again and surprisingly the journey wasn’t unbearably awkward, besides some tension it was fine. Eventually, as both of your legs started giving out, you’d wandered into a seemingly safe room.

It smelled dank, and felt somewhat colder than the rest of the dungeon. There was one bed propped up against a corner, and facing is was a statue of a woman holding what looked like a crow. You averted your eyes from it, staring too long made you feel uneasy. Once more in the centre of the small room was an unlit campfire that Enki had already begun tinkering with.

You placed your satchel on the bed and dusted the sheets, clearing some of the dungeons grime that had built up. You produced some of the food that you’d gathered from a pocket in your bag and returned to sit by the campfire that had now been lit. Tired embers fell from the flame, biting at your toes, making you let out a slight yelp as you pulled yourself back out of reflex. “Watch yourself.” Enki scolded you, his eyes dark and stern boring holes into you. Though you swore you saw the priest grin for a split second…

“I wish that there was some way of getting clothes down here…” You breathed onto the hot food that the priest handed to you, sucking in the warm that radiated from it. “I’m confident we will find some, eventually… “He said after a pause, attaching more skewers onto the scorching heat. You considered his words for a moment; it was rather odd that you hadn’t found much material yet. The cloth that you had found was now drenched in the priest’s blood in some hallway. The same hallway you’d shared that intimate moment with only a few hours ago…

“I have a question.” You asked, resting your head on one of your hands drearily. You studied the priest, the crackling flame lighting up his face in contrast to the dark room. “Is it about the incident?” Enki shot you a flustered glare, before reluctantly chewing on a piece of stale bread. “No! No, it isn’t!” You corrected, awkwardly taking a drag of tobacco. “I’m just curious about something…” Enki raised a brow. “What?” “Why did you decide to become a dark priest?”

He stared at you with a conflicted look on his face before leaning himself back slightly, his gaze dragging across the ceiling. “I was born and raised to become this... It was never a choice of mine, although…” Enki hesitated a moment, his eyes softening as they met yours. “I must say I do not think anything else could suit me better.”

“How so?” Enki lifted his palm to the fire, causing small ripples to appear and spring off the open flame. “It enables me to achieve my full potential in this word. For my yearning mind to solve enigmas, unearth vast knowledges few mortals have ever discovered.” He shut his eyes, lost in a brooding trance before they snapped back open. “In short, It has satiated my drive for understanding pertaining to this cruel existence.”

You were at a loss of words for a short moment before forcing out a nod, curving your mouth into an understanding smile. “Is that what lead you down to these dungeons?” “Yes.” Enki twiddled a piece of his hair across a finger. “At the brisk of death… I was granted a vision.” You fought back the desire to flood him with a surplus of pointless questions, instead looking on at him In awe attempting to hide how intrigued you were.

“It was of a prophet, residing here in these very dungeons.” You took another drag of tobacco, blowing the smoke out above the fire. “So, you’re searching for him?” “Not exactly.” Enki held out his hand, reluctantly you passed him the pipe. “The gods guided me. But…now that I’m here I’m free to do as I wish.” He took a drag, his eyes relaxing as soon as the smoke entered his lungs. You hesitated a moment, unsure whether you should tell him about the headaches you had, before letting out a sigh. “So… your goal is to go to this ‘Ma’Habre?’”

He nodded, exhaling the fumes into the misty room. “Yes. I have reason to believe that there may be a place there that contains crucial information.” Taking a long pause Enki passed the pipe back to you, absentmindedly rubbing the side of his face which had now been plagued by fatigue. “The cube you gave me… It’s the key to accessing it. Now all I need is to find that cursed entrance.” He sighed squeezing his temples before rising from the floor. Your eyes followed him, studying his movements curiously. “What are you doing?” “Rest.” He stated walking over to the singular bed and laying himself down on it.

“You’re not eating anything else?” He turned back to look at you, and the remainder of the food cooking above the dying fire. “Eating will only slow me down.” “Eating will give you energy” You retorted. An unreadable expression crossed his face for a split second before he shook his head, angling himself against the wall, leaving a comfortable amount of space for you. “I have enough energy gifted to me by the gods. I have hardly any use for food.”

The priest opened a book and started flicking through pages, which you took as him ending the conversation. You turned back towards the fire that had now dwindled to a low whisper, the heat from it slowly seeping away into the cold air, turning the room almost pitch black.

Getting to sleep that night had been rough. The surplus of food you’d forced into your body had made your stomach writhe and bloat, nausea creeping up your throat, the taste of bile lining your tongue. All while you could faintly make out Enki’s silhouette sleeping peacefully next to you. You wondered what he might be dreaming of- if he even dreamed at all- it wasn’t the type of conversation you’d ever have with him.

Your mind wandered back to the moment of passion the two of you had shared once more, you could hardly believe it had even taken place. It was almost a blur however you couldn’t shake off the memory of undeniable pleasure you’d gained from it, the feeling of his body and yours joining in such an intimate and personal way… it sent a shiver down your spine and lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

You opened your eyes, feeling an awkward pressure digging into your neck- it felt cold and sharp… You jolted awake, trying to keep as still as possible while above you, you could make out a figure. The blade which prodded at your skin was sharp, you could tell that it would make quick work of you in an instant if you dared to move or call for help. Your eyes darted around the room for Enki but he was nowhere to be found. The stranger held a torch closer to your face lighting you up before she let out a gasp, withdrawing her sword from you.

“I’m so sorry- I thought you were one of those… monsters…” The stranger said. Her voice was soft and determined, yet slightly hoarse. As she lifted the torch away from your face you could make her out much better- her skin was pale, her eyes a mystic blue and her hair cut into a practical bob. You let out a sigh of relief as you lifted yourself to your feet, rubbing your neck which had begun to bleed from a small cut caused by the pressure. Taking a closer look at the woman, she seemed to be dressed in armour, the type a powerful and prideful knight would wear.

“I’m D’arce.” She announced, a kind smile prying open her lips, as she extended a hand towards you. “I’m… erm, y/n.” You managed to muster, coyly taking her hand. She shook it, her grasp on you firm against the trembling grip the adrenaline rushing though you caused. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a man around here perhaps?” She asked, a certain urgency in her tone. You cocked your head to the side, earning a sigh from the knight. “A blonde, about thisss tall.” She said, pointing her hand to a few inches above her.

“Perhaps… that’s a rather vague description you give. Does this man have a name?” You questioned, scratching at the back of your neck. You silently prayed that she wasn’t searching for the priest, if the knight had a problem with Enki, you weren’t confident that he would win against her in a fight…

“Le’garde.” The woman sighed, drearily, a lost and conflicted look on her face. “He’s trapped down here, sentenced to death and I need to find him.” She expressed to you; her voice shaking with a pained melody. Your heart sunk at the woman’s words, you felt strangely sorry for her. She cared a lot about finding this man… and something deep inside of your gut urged you to help her.

You nodded with all the understanding you could muster before grabbing your satchel from beside the bed and slinging it over your shoulder. “I want to help you…” You began, studying the woman’s expression intensely. “In fact, I think I might be able to. My… friend knows a lot more about these dungeons than I do.” “Your… friend?” She pointed her gaze towards Enki’s satchel before narrowing her eyes. “Kind of.”

“Well, I certainly hope he’s not the same man I met earlier in this dungeon.” She spat, the slight hostility in her tone bouncing off the dark room. “Who did you meet…?” D’arce grumbled something under her breath, crossing her arms and sheathing her sword. “A thief, that’s who.” Her sour expression turned somewhat remorseful. “Although… he did rescue me from some rather… nasty creatures.”

“It sounds like you’ve had… quite the experience.” You leaned against the rusty bedpost, still transfixed on how mystical the woman looks- it was nothing like you’d ever seen before, well in your short few days of newfound existence. “Certainly… I can’t wait to leave this wretched place. I just need to find Le’garde…”

“Am I interrupting something?” Called a familiar voice behind the both of you. D’arce spun around and pointed her sword up to the priest’s throat in reflex, causing him to shoot her an agitated look. “This is who I told you about…!” You said, desperately trying to diffuse the situation, taking a step closer to the frightened Knight.

“My apologies.” She cleared her throat, once again sheathing her blade and giving Enki a slight bow. In return, the priest raised a brow towards you, his face plagued with confusion and annoyance, which only seemed to fuel your anger. Whatever the importance of what he’d been doing, by leaving you asleep and vulnerable he’d endangered you. If the knight hadn’t been so diligent and spared you- you would’ve surely lost your head to her.

“You’re back.” You stated, not bothering to hide your bitterness. “This is D’arce, we will be aiding her.” You announced shooting a friendly glance in the knight’s direction. The priest’s eyes widened with irritation before he sighed, pinching his temples. “No we will not.” His eyes shot daggers into the two of you.

“When we made our deal, you specifically stated that the only person I’d have to drag with me would be you. That is what I agreed to.” “Yes, and you failed to do that by leaving me alone here this morning.” You seethed, through gritted teeth. A look of guilt flashed across his face before he shook his head, his eyes darkening.

A few still moments passed while Enki mumbled undiscernible words to himself, before pointing his attention towards the knight who seemed to be watching the ordeal with keen interest. “Fine. What is it you need?” He questioned her with unconcealed arrogance.

“I need your help finding a man named Le’garde.” D’arce’s expression softened once more at the topic of discussion. “He was taken hostage, and is being held prisoner in the depths of this dungeon… I’ve been looking everywhere I can but to no avail. Please, help me find him.”

You caught the priest glance towards you in the corner of your eye, his stoic demeanour slipping as he watched you with an emotion, you’d never seen him display before. However, as soon as you noticed it, it had disappeared and was replaced by his usual callousness. “Tell me about this man.” “He uhh… he is…was… my superior.” She spurted out, suddenly flustered. “The captain of the knights of the midnight sun, he was sent to his execution here, by the Kingdom of Rondon.” Enki's body stiffened, his face lighting up in recognition, a sudden air of curiosity possessing him. He cleared his throat, twirling a piece of pale hair between his fingers, humming a low melody to himself.

“Yes… that seems awfully familiar… I’m confident I know who you speak of. Unfortunately, I don’t possess the knowledge of his whereabouts.” The knights hopeful smile quickly dissipated into a frown as she processed the priests’ words. “We plan to venture deeper though… right, priest?” You questioned; your tone as sympathetic as you could muster. He stayed silent, walking behind you to reach for his satchel. “Which means that we’ll most likely find him there, D’arce!” The knight’s lips spread into a weak smile before sighing to herself. “I suppose you’re correct… would you be willing to accompany me?” Before Enki could retort you nodded gleefully.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with my journey, I will allow it.” You heard him mumble from behind you. The knight's lips spread into a thankful smile before she lifted her torch to the room’s exit, her gaze following yours out into the unwelcoming darkness. “Do the both of you need more time to prepare? Or should we set off immediately?” She asked, looking back and forth between you and the priest.

“No.” Enki stated blankly, his cold eyes flickering towards you before he disappeared into the hallway without another word.

[valnvy]

“The breeze is singing with us, Laura Lee. Dancing with us,” Lottie said, and Laura Lee nodded slowly, taking it in, accepting the words like gospel, feeling them rushing down her body.

HEAVILY BASED ON “sanctify me when i’m dead” ON AO3 BY @lesbianlotties !!! go read it !!!

[istumpysk]

OPERATION ICEBERG: THE TIER LIST

THEORY:

Daario Naharis = Euron Greyjoy

[Daario Naharis and Euron Greyjoy are the same person.]

TIER:

A Joke: These theories are an absolute joke; anyone who believes them is a fool.

[Tier list overview.]

EVIDENCE:

Fine, I suppose we'll do this.

Both Daario and Euron are similarly attractive with blue eyes, beards, and smooth, fair skin.

The Tyroshi was fair where Ser Jorah was swarthy; lithe where the knight was brawny; graced with flowing locks where the other was balding, yet smooth-skinned where Mormont was hairy.  [...] His beard was cut into three prongs and dyed blue, the same color as his eyes and the curly hair that fell to his collar. His pointed mustachios were painted gold. - Daenerys IV, ASOS

x

Euron was the most comely of Lord Quellon's sons, and three years of exile had not changed that. His hair was still black as a midnight sea, with never a whitecap to be seen, and his face was still smooth and pale beneath his neat dark beard. A black leather patch covered Euron's left eye, but his right was blue as a summer sky. - The Iron Captain, AFFC

Both Daario and Euron exhibit grandiosity, mockery, and a violent, bloodthirsty, brutal, and dangerous nature.

Dany was appalled. He is a monster. A gallant monster, but a monster still. "Do you take me for the Butcher King?" "Better the butcher than the meat. All kings are butchers. Are queens so different?" - Daenerys IV, ADWD

x

"Just so," said Euron, "and for that sin I kill them all. I spill their blood upon the sea and sow their screaming women with my seed. Their little gods cannot stop me, so plainly they are false gods. I am more devout than even you, Aeron. Perhaps it should be you who kneels to me for blessing." - The Iron Captain, AFFC

Daario commands the Stormcrows, while Euron, known as Crow's Eye, is often likened to a storm.

"Khaleesi," he cried, "I bring gifts and glad tidings. The Stormcrows are yours." A golden tooth gleamed in his mouth when he smiled. "And so is Daario Naharis!" - Daenerys IV, ASOS

x

I have seen the storm, and its name is Euron Crow's Eye. - The Prophet, AFFC

Daario is frequently absent in Meereen, while Euron's location was unknown during Daenerys' initial conquests in Slaver's Bay.

The most crucial task of all she had entrusted to Daario Naharis, glib-tongued Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, smiling his wicked smile through purple whiskers. Beyond the eastern hills was a range of rounded sandstone mountains, the Khyzai Pass, and Lhazar. If Daario could convince the Lhazarene to reopen the overland trade routes, grains could be brought down the river or over the hills at need … - Daenerys I, ADWD

x

"I want them gone. Let them scout the Yunkish hinterlands and give protection to any caravans coming over the Khyzai Pass. Henceforth Daario shall make his reports to you. Give him every honor that is due him and see that his men are well paid, but on no account admit him to my presence." - Daenerys IV, ADWD

x

Only Daario had been given to the Yunkai'i, a hostage to ensure no harm came to the Yunkish captains. - Daenerys X, ADWD

x

Asha slid her dirk out of its sheath and began to clean the dirt from beneath her fingernails. "Three years away, and the Crow's Eye returns the very day my father dies." - The Kraken's Daughter, AFFC

Daario gained considerable loot from the sack of Yunkai, while Euron had significant spoils for the Kingsmoot.

Daario had plundered himself a whole new wardrobe in Meereen, and to match it he had redyed his trident beard and curly hair a deep rich purple. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

x

The mutes and mongrels from the Silence threw open Euron's chests and spilled out his gifts before the captains and the kings. Then it was Hotho Harlaw the priest heard, as he filled his hands with gold. - The Drowned Man, AFFC

Daenerys is infatuated with Daario, while Euron is certain he will wed her.

Her love for Daario is poison. A slower poison than the locusts, but in the end as deadly. - The Kingbreaker, ADWD

x

"[...] No, to make an heir that's worthy of him, I need a different woman. When the kraken weds the dragon, brother, let all the world beware." - The Reaver, AFFC

Daario hails from Tyrosh, while Euron disguised Ironborn as Tyroshi.

"It grieves me that honest men must suffer such discourtesy, but sooner that than ironmen in Oldtown. Only a fortnight ago some of those bloody bastards captured a Tyroshi merchantman in the straits. They killed her crew, donned their clothes, and used the dyes they found to color their whiskers half a hundred colors. Once inside the walls they meant to set the port ablaze and open a gate from within whilst we fought the fire. Might have worked, but they ran afoul of the Lady of the Tower, and her oarsmaster has a Tyroshi wife. When he saw all the green and purple beards he hailed them in the tongue of Tyrosh, and not one of them had the words to hail him back." - Samwell V, AFFC

Euron is thought to use warlock magic to control the winds for faster sailing, which, according to many, might allow him to travel at the speed of light.

"Do I command the winds?" the Crow's Eye asked his pets. "No, Your Grace," said Orkwood of Orkmont. "No man commands the winds," said Germund Botley. "Would that you did," the Red Oarsman said. "You would sail wherever you liked and never be becalmed." - The Iron Captain, AFFC

x

The wind was at their backs, as it had been all the way down from Old Wyk. It was whispered about the fleet that Euron's wizards had much and more to do with that, that the Crow's Eye appeased the Storm God with blood sacrifice. How else would he have dared sail so far to the west, instead of following the shoreline as was the custom? - The Reaver, AFFC

Compelling stuff.

Other things to consider:

Both Daario and Euron are primarily attracted to Daenerys for her power and dragons.

Daario has no family, friends, or known history.

Daario's gold tooth could be artificial, while Euron's blue lips might be temporary.

Daenerys experiences multiple visions and warnings about Euron, including those in the House of the Undying and from Quaithe. She and others also see Daario as a detrimental influence.

If Euron is so set on acquiring dragons, why would he be preoccupied with the Shield Islands and the Arbor instead of focusing on Daenerys and Slaver's Bay? Shouldn't he be in Meereen?

Some speculate that Euron has warging abilities, eliminating the need for him to physically sail back and forth between Slaver's Bay and Westeros.

Apparently George R. R. Martin once hinted that Daario is more complex than he initially seems.

COUNTER-EVIDENCE:

It defies the laws of physics?

Are parts of this fandom seriously not familiar with the concept of parallel characters?

STUMPY'S THOUGHTS:

Kudos to those who've noticed the intentional similarities between these two characters, even if no one is asking what that implies about Daenerys.

That said, if you genuinely believe this theory, you're officially ...

a bozo.

VOTE:

I welcome discussions. Feel free to reblog, respond, or challenge my perspective — I won't be offended by any of it.

Please note, if "no" is the eventual winner, or if it's competitive, a second poll will be conducted to determine the proper location.

NEXT THEORY:

The miller's boys were Theon's sons.

[the-chronicle-of-holy-days]

Day 22

Chapter III

Abrahadabra; the reward of Ra Hoor Khut.

There is division hither homeward; there is a word not known. Spelling is defunct; all is not aught. Beware! Hold! Raise the spell of Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

Now let it be first understood that I am a god of War and of Vengeance. I shall deal hardly with them.

Choose ye an island!

Fortify it!

Dung it about with enginery of war!

I will give you a war-engine.

With it ye shall smite the peoples; and none shall stand before you.

Lurk! Withdraw! Upon them! this is the Law of the Battle of Conquest: thus shall my worship be about my secret house.

Get the stele of revealing itself; set it in thy secret temple — and that temple is already aright disposed — & it shall be your Kiblah for ever. It shall not fade, but miraculous colour shall come back to it day after day. Close it in locked glass for a proof to the world.

This shall be your only proof. I forbid argument. Conquer! That is enough. I will make easy to you the abstruction from the ill-ordered house in the Victorious City. Thou shalt thyself convey it with worship, o prophet, though thou likest it not. Thou shalt have danger & trouble. Ra-Hoor-Khu is with thee. Worship me with fire & blood; worship me with swords & with spears. Let the woman be girt with a sword before me: let blood flow to my name. Trample down the Heathen; be upon them, o warrior, I will give you of their flesh to eat!

Sacrifice cattle, little and big: after a child.

But not now.

Ye shall see that hour, o blessed Beast, and thou the Scarlet Concubine of his desire!

Ye shall be sad thereof.

Deem not too eagerly to catch the promises; fear not to undergo the curses. Ye, even ye, know not this meaning all.

Fear not at all; fear neither men nor Fates, nor gods, nor anything. Money fear not, nor laughter of the folk folly, nor any other power in heaven or upon the earth or under the earth. Nu is your refuge as Hadit your light; and I am the strength, force, vigour, of your arms.

Mercy let be off; damn them who pity! Kill and torture; spare not; be upon them!

That stele they shall call the Abomination of Desolation; count well its name, & it shall be to you as 718.

Why? Because of the fall of Because, that he is not there again.

Set up my image in the East: thou shalt buy thee an image which I will show thee, especial, not unlike the one thou knowest. And it shall be suddenly easy for thee to do this.

The other images group around me to support me: let all be worshipped, for they shall cluster to exalt me. I am the visible object of worship; the others are secret; for the Beast & his Bride are they: and for the winners of the Ordeal x. What is this? Thou shalt know.

For perfume mix meal & honey & thick leavings of red wine: then oil of Abramelin and olive oil, and afterward soften & smooth down with rich fresh blood.

The best blood is of the moon, monthly: then the fresh blood of a child, or dropping from the host of heaven: then of enemies; then of the priest or of the worshippers: last of some beast, no matter what.

This burn: of this make cakes & eat unto me. This hath also another use; let it be laid before me, and kept thick with perfumes of your orison: it shall become full of beetles as it were and creeping things sacred unto me.

These slay, naming your enemies; & they shall fall before you.

Also these shall breed lust & power of lust in you at the eating thereof.

Also ye shall be strong in war.

Moreover, be they long kept, it is better; for they swell with my force. All before me.

My altar is of open brass work: burn thereon in silver or gold!

There cometh a rich man from the West who shall pour his gold upon thee.

From gold forge steel!

Be ready to fly or to smite!

But your holy place shall be untouched throughout the centuries: though with fire and sword it be burnt down & shattered, yet an invisible house there standeth, and shall stand until the fall of the Great Equinox; when Hrumachis shall arise and the double-wanded one assume my throne and place. Another prophet shall arise, and bring fresh fever from the skies; another woman shall awakethe lust & worship of the Snake; another soul of God and beast shall mingle in the globed priest; another sacrifice shall stain the tomb; another king shall reign; and blessing no longer be poured To the Hawk-headed mystical Lord!

The half of the word of Heru-ra-ha, called Hoor-pa-kraat and Ra-Hoor-Khut.

Then said the prophet unto the God:

I adore thee in the song —

I am the Lord of Thebes, and I

The inspired forth-speaker of Mentu;

For me unveils the veiled sky,

The self-slain Ankh-af-na-khonsu

Whose words are truth. I invoke, I greet

Thy presence, O Ra-Hoor-Khuit! Unity uttermost showed!

I adore the might of Thy breath,

Supreme and terrible God,

Who makest the gods and death

To tremble before Thee:—

I, I adore thee! Appear on the throne of Ra!

Open the ways of the Khu!

Lighten the ways of the Ka!

The ways of the Khabs run through

To stir me or still me!

Aum! let it fill me!

So that thy light is in me; & its red flame is as a sword in my hand to push thy order. There is a secret door that I shall make to establish thy way in all the quarters, (these are the adorations, as thou hast written), as it is said:

The light is mine; its rays consume

Me: I have made a secret door

Into the House of Ra and Tum,

Of Khephra and of Ahathoor.

I am thy Theban, O Mentu,

The prophet Ankh-af-na-khonsu!

By Bes-na-Maut my breast I beat;

By wise Ta-Nech I weave my spell.

Show thy star-splendour, O Nuit!

Bid me within thine House to dwell,

O wingèd snake of light, Hadit!

Abide with me, Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

All this and a book to say how thou didst come hither and a reproduction of this ink and paper for ever — for in it is the word secret & not only in the English — and thy comment upon this the Book of the Law shall be printed beautifully in red ink and black upon beautiful paper made by hand; and to each man and woman that thou meetest, were it but to dine or to drink at them, it is the Law to give. Then they shall chance to abide in this bliss or no; it is no odds. Do this quickly!

But the work of the comment? That is easy; and Hadit burning in thy heart shall make swift and secure thy pen.

Establish at thy Kaaba a clerk-house: all must be done well and with business way.

The ordeals thou shalt oversee thyself, save only the blind ones. Refuse none, but thou shalt know & destroy the traitors. I am Ra-Hoor-Khuit; and I am powerful to protect my servant. Success is thy proof: argue not; convert not; talk not over much! Them that seek to entrap thee, to overthrow thee, them attack without pity or quarter; & destroy them utterly. Swift as a trodden serpent turn and strike! Be thou yet deadlier than he! Drag down their souls to awful torment: laugh at their fear: spit upon them!

Let the Scarlet Woman beware! If pity and compassion and tenderness visit her heart; if she leave my work to toy with old sweetnesses; then shall my vengeance be known. I will slay me her child: I will alienate her heart: I will cast her out from men: as a shrinking and despised harlot shall she crawl through dusk wet streets, and die cold and an-hungered.

But let her raise herself in pride! Let her follow me in my way! Let her work the work of wickedness! Let her kill her heart! Let her be loud and adulterous! Let her be covered with jewels, and rich garments, and let her be shameless before all men!

Then will I lift her to pinnacles of power: then will I breed from her a child mightier than all the kings of the earth. I will fill her with joy: with my force shall she see & strike at the worship of Nu: she shall achieve Hadit.

I am the warrior Lord of the Forties: the Eighties cower before me, & are abased. I will bring you to victory & joy: I will be at your arms in battle & ye shall delight to slay. Success is your proof; courage is your armour; go on, go on, in my strength; & ye shall turn not back for any!

This book shall be translated into all tongues: but always with the original in the writing of the Beast; for in the chance shape of the letters and their position to one another: in these are mysteries that no Beast shall divine. Let him not seek to try: but one cometh after him, whence I say not, who shall discover the Key of it all. Then this line drawn is a key: then this circle squared in its failure is a key also. And Abrahadabra. It shall be his child & that strangely. Let him not seek after this; for thereby alone can he fall from it.

Now this mystery of the letters is done, and I want to go on to the holier place.

I am in a secret fourfold word, the blasphemy against all gods of men.

Curse them! Curse them! Curse them!

With my Hawk's head I peck at the eyes of Jesus as he hangs upon the cross.

I flap my wings in the face of Mohammed & blind him.

With my claws I tear out the flesh of the Indian and the Buddhist, Mongol and Din.

Bahlasti! Ompehda! I spit on your crapulous creeds.

Let Mary inviolate be torn upon wheels: for her sake let all chaste women be utterly despised among you!

Also for beauty's sake and love's!

Despise also all cowards; professional soldiers who dare not fight, but play; all fools despise!

But the keen and the proud, the royal and the lofty; ye are brothers!

As brothers fight ye!

There is no law beyond Do what thou wilt.

There is an end of the word of the God enthroned in Ra's seat, lightening the girders of the soul.

To Me do ye reverence! to me come ye through tribulation of ordeal, which is bliss.

The fool readeth this Book of the Law, and its comment; & he understandeth it not.

Let him come through the first ordeal, & it will be to him as silver.

Through the second, gold.

Through the third, stones of precious water.

Through the fourth, ultimate sparks of the intimate fire.

Yet to all it shall seem beautiful. Its enemies who say not so, are mere liars.

There is success.

I am the Hawk-Headed Lord of Silence & of Strength; my nemyss shrouds the night-blue sky.

Hail! ye twin warriors about the pillars of the world! for your time is nigh at hand.

I am the Lord of the Double Wand of Power; the wand of the Force of Coph Nia—but my left hand is empty, for I have crushed an Universe; & nought remains.

Paste the sheets from right to left and from top to bottom: then behold!

There is a splendour in my name hidden and glorious, as the sun of midnight is ever the son.

The ending of the words is the Word Abrahadabra.

The Book of the Law is Written

and Concealed.

Aum. Ha

[devourable]

priest!abraham whos taken a vow of chastity x prophet!darling who he cant keep his hands off ,

[hypernova-blitz-arts]

Okay so i have an idea- TMC but with a storyline based off of FAITH. basically a crossover. ik it's been done before but i'd like to present my own take on it. Long ass character info list under the cut

Btw if you wanna rb this, please do! It let's me know people are interested

To start, I think the AU would/should be called When Faith Prevails.

The cult still exists, Preacher is the leader of the lower ranking members. The cat is the cult mascot because yes. I'll elaborate later.

All of the humans are traumatized!! Yaaaaay!!!

Mark (Father Heathcliff)

- 36

- absolute wet cat of a man

- takes on a role similar to John

- decided he wanted to be a priest so he could help people. Only wanted to become a priest after an incident in his childhood in which he attempted to finish an exorcism. One which the priest that had been called to the scene died during.

- Continuing the above, the faithful boy did what he could, as he was instructed to by O'Brien. He wasn't fast enough.

- Insomnia, night terrors, PTSD, anxiety, depression

Dave (Father Lee)

- late 50's

- Takes on a role similar to Father Garcia because it's fucking hilarious to me to imagine Dave blasting a demon with a shotgun

- he's too cool that's why he dies later

- cares for Mark a lot, considers him family

- became a priest due to his Visions (TM) as a child. He's been revered as a holy prophet since.

- somehow the most stable guy in this entire AU, had a good family life, decent childhood, stayed out of trouble, a very good child. He's mostly chillin, save for the fact that he Witnesses The Horrors every night in his sleep.

Father O'Brien

- died during an exorcism.

- he done goofed.

Cesar Torres

- Died at 16, somehow aged as a ghost? maybe because he's still attached to his body.

- a spirit bound to what's left of his mortal form. Cannot be at peace until his body is killed.

- an alt possessed him and took his body during a botched attempt to exorcise it out of his house. Turns out there was more than one.

- "talks" to Mark sometimes (leaves things out that mean different things, writes notes)

- "bleeding" constantly

- hates seeing Mark spiral like this

"Cesar Torres"/Alt Cesar

- Killed Cesar and took over his body.

- watch it gain humanity later (i'm sorry but giving Alts humanity and then making them spiral is my favorite thing to do. It's so much fun to watch an unfeeling entity, one made to kill, drive itself insane over being a failure)

- they/it at first, he/it later on.

Sarah Heathcliff

- before i go on, this is only an AU loosely based on FAITH. That being said, Lisa (or any replacement thereof) x John (or any replacement thereof) does not exist.

- 32

- Mark's distant sister, lives in the Cult's apartment building.

- stays away from religion because of her childhood

- some flavor of emotional management issues, that's what makes her so easy for an Alternate to manipulate/begin to possess.

Thatcher Davis

- look, i refuse to make him as young as he is canonically. not as old as Dave, but close. bro is at least in his 40's here. maybe very early 40's but 40s nonetheless.

- cop that hangs around the church for security.

- hangs out with Dave, calls him old man a lot

- trauma. so much trauma.

- Dave taught him how to exorcise an alt out of a given place, but Thatcher has something stronger (a gun)

- "I'm a brave boy" *Sees an alt* "NOT A BRAVE ENOUGH BOY FOR THIS"

Ruth Weaver

- used to live in the cult apartment building.

- She was sacrificed.

- Thatcher is still looking for her.

- He won't like what he finds.

Adam Murray

- He's just Michael Davies here what else can i say

-17

- humanity? gone. none left.

- he's in so much pain all the fucking time help him

Jonah Marshall

- Adam's best friend

-18

- alive. for now.

- anxiety, so much anxiety, hallucinates a lot.

- he knows how to use a GUN in this one folks

Lucifer/The Morningstar/ UNSPEAKABLE

- you see how he looks in canon? make it worse. make it a million times more uncomfortable to look at.

- eyes. All of the eyes. So many eyes.

- limbs? Many. Wings? Yeah, he has those too. They're leathery and bat-like with a layer of blackened feathers along the top.

- merciless

- created the alternates to twist the world to his design.

- likes to watch humans go mental, it's so funny to him <3

Important side characters (mostly Alts)

Six/The Anglerfish

- lures children in to either make them join the cult or sacrifice them, often replaces them with an alt to "spread the vision of it's creator"

- Warned Mark of what was to happen, was there to observe Mark failing his best friend

- bastard. Kill him. Right now.

- him and stanley are one in the same. Six is the anglerfish hiding in the darkness behind its lure. A monster behind a friendly face.

Preacher

- Kind of equivalent to Malphas but usually takes a form like that of Miriam's

- right hand to the UNSPEAKABLE

- bastard boy bastard boy bastard boy

- manipulative little prick

The Sacrifices

- various sacrificed animals possessed by lower ranking alts

Goat

- THE fucked up sacrifice

- little fucking bitchass daddy's boy. Asskisser of the antichrist. Desperate for the UNSPEAKABLE'S attention

- Alu's replacement