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jolenes-doppelganger · 5 months

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Desert Storm

Reverend Mother Jessica x Fem! Fremen Reader

NSFW 18+- MINORS WHO INTERACT CAN AND WILL BE BLOCKED.

Request: “Soooo I got this idea stuck in my mind. RM Jessica falls for the woman that her son, Paul, is also in love with. Basically, reader is like Chani, but not really 😅 So, RM Jessica will do everything in her power to steal her away from her own son (successfully coz she got me on a chokehold fr wink*). Yandere vibes or something close to that. I'll let you decide if you'll add some spice and everything nice.” from @buttercandy16

Warnings: Ritualistic groping, sweat and tear ingestion, erotic lactation and breastfeeding, Jessica and Alia telepathically beefing, Jessica is her own warning

A/N: Don't look me in the eyes, believe me, I know how the warnings sound. May my Catholic mother's prayers cleanse these sinful hands that hath created this abomination. (Sexy abomination, *wink wink*).

Word Count: 4.4k of filth

The water of life had opened her mind in unimaginable ways. What once had been a struggle to do, power that had been a struggle to wield, became light. Jessica could see things and feel things that felt almost wrong to be able to digest. Waking up in the midst of the Fremen Sayyadina as they were panting and sighing in ecstasy felt strange. They’d drank of the sweat on her forehead, and the potent spice had acted as a powerful stimulant, and in some cases an aphrodisiac. Jessica watched as a pair of the Sayyadina grasped another, the two of them passionately kissing one another. It was odd to see such open intimacy between two people, between two women.

“Reverend Mother, they wish to make (Reader) a Sayyadina with you.” a Fremen priestess murmured, drinking from her skin as a trickle of sweat came down her forehead.

“Bring… Her in.” Jessica whispered.

The dead Reverend Mother was bound, carried away as the remaining lucid Sayyadina did their part to prepare her. The soon to be Sayyadina, (Reader), was brought forward. Jessica stared up at her with newly blue-stained eyes.

“You must drink of the sweat on her face.” the sayyadina instructed the girl.

Jessica watched as you kneeled in front of her, gently searching for a bit of sweat to ingest. Most of it had been taken already, only a patch on her upper lip remained accessible. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to the flesh just below her lip, gently licking away the sweat there. Jessica reached forward, hands grasping desperately at you.

“I see.” Jessica whispered, grabbing your face. “Oh, I see what he sees.”

Jessica promptly closed her eyes, dropping into a sleep of pure exhaustion. As she slept, as she dreamed, she dreamed of you. With one little touch, she’d been granted powerful insight into your being, your composition and your bearing. You were Fremen, desert strong. Capable of withstanding more than some of the most acclimated soldiers. And Jessica liked that.

“Stay with her. We will tell the man child.”

You were left to watch over the new Reverend Mother, the slow potency of the spice saturated sweat causing a slow smoldering heat in you. Several Sayyadina around you were in the middle of hunting down their husbands and partners, overcome by the effect of it all. You sat still, observing the slow breaths of the new religious leader in your group.

“Mother, she’s Paul’s!” Alia spoke to Jessica.

It had been several weeks since Jessica had taken the water of life, several weeks since Alia had gained consciousness and begun speaking to her in utero. What had first been a new blessing had become another aggravation. Alia was sweet. Dedicated, loving and loyal to a fault. Every bit her father’s child. But Jessica shared a connection with her that allowed the child access to her foremost thoughts, desires and ideas.

“If you don’t hush.” Jessica whispered back.

“What did you say?” you asked, frowning.

“My child speaks.” Jessica replied, then adding, “Of nonsense.”

“Mom!!!” Alia cried.

You saw Jessica’s face contort into a steely expression as she appeared to silently reprimand the conscious fetus inside of her. It was strange, watching her interact with her daughter. Moreso, it was strange watching the other Sayyadina react to it all. You were with Paul mostly, attacking Harkonnen spice mining crews and machines, but recently Jessica had been requesting your presence on a frequent basis, requiring you more and more often.

“She is… Fully conscious?” you asked, eyeing the soft bump warily.

“Mmm. Yes.” Jessica replied, eyeing you with indiscernible interest. “She speaks like an adult, I believe she has the intellect of an adult as well. However, she is inexperienced in the ways of the world and knows it only through ancestral memory. She must learn to listen to her mother.” Jessica finished, a deadly warning in her expression meant for an individual without eyes to see it with.

Jessica extended her hand.

“Feel.”

You walked forward, a bit nervous. She was only ten weeks or so along, there was hardly a bump there. You placed your hand in hers, and she smiled, bringing it to rest quite low.*

“The baby will sit just above my pubic bone, you won’t feel movement, but you can feel the soft bump.” Jessica whispered, eyeing you in that strange way she was quite fond of.

“Oh. Thank you, Reverend Mother.”

Jessica smiled again, gently toying with your blue headband.

“You’ve begun to wear this quite often. What does it mean?”

The question caused you to blush. The piece of fabric was quite irrelevant, but the color was significant for many things.

“Oh… Well. We Fremen wear blue when we’re in love.”

Jessica’s eyes grew sharp and her hand stilled.

“With who?”

“Well, your son.” you admitted.

Jessica was quite silent for a period that was out of character for her. By the way she stared straight ahead, it was clear that she wasn’t talking to Alia. Her lips would often quirk when conversing with the child, and her eyes would dart around in thought. But she was deadly silent at this moment. No quiver of her lips, no movement of her eyes, not even the slightest twitch.

“I see.” Jessica finally said. “You make a mistake, assuming he can love you.” she whispered, leaning in predatorily. “My daughter Alia reminds him often that he must reserve his hand for the most diplomatically beneficial match.”

You clenched your teeth, drawing away from her.

“Paul can make his own choices without you two involving yourselves.” you replied, venom boiling through your words.

Your feet moved of their own accord, drawing towards the exit and out of Jessica’s room, forgetting the code of conduct. You were to formally greet and bid goodbye to the Reverend Mother at all times, to provide respect.

“Stop.”

You froze, breath caught in your throat at the barked order. She’d never used the Voice on you before, and you’d never seen it used.

“You will respect your Reverend Mothers.” Jessica spoke, in a two-toned voice. “All of us.”

Chills ran up and down your spine as you turned, viewing Jessica in fear.

“Come here.”

You were forced to walk back towards her. She grabbed your face with both hands, eyes wild as she observed you.

“I will be leaving to spread the news of Paul in the south. You will come with me.”

You shook your head. You were Feydakin, and a fighter. Your primary role to the tribe was not being a priestess, but being a fighter. To leave Paul to fight without you would leave him vulnerable, without relief from his dreams. Sure, he had Silgar, but the man was a fool and only fueled the Bene Gesserit delusions. Who would be the voice of reason amidst all of this?

“I am Feydakin.”

“No, you are Sayyadina. You go where I tell you to go, when I tell you to go. And as your Reverend Mother, I have the say over the matter. I want a fighter by my side, can’t you see?” Jessica whispered, eyes clouding over in soft anxiety.

Even though Jessica was Bene Gesserit, you’d always had a six sense for when someone was playing you. This was Jessica playing.

“You defeated Stilgar.” you retorted. “You are fighter enough.

“But I am pregnant.” Jessica replied. “And that was weeks ago. I will only continue to get bigger, to become more immobile. I will need a trusted protector.”

You eyed her with extreme skepticism, taking a moment to let her words hang. Most liars filled silence by instinct, word vomit flying out of their mouths under pressure. But Jessica knew that trick. And although her real reasons for having you close to her weren’t reasons previously given, her being pregnant was a viable excuse she could use if needed.

“It’s because you don’t want me to date Paul, isn’t it? My common Fremen blood isn’t good enough for him?”

Jessica laughed. It sounded unkind.

“No. Paul would be lucky to have someone as headstrong and wise as you for a partner, especially someone who is both those things and young, fertile. But his future lies elsewhere. And I do care for you. I would hate to see you hurt.”

She stepped forward, placing both her hands on your shoulders. She was back on her game. You had a sense that she was telling the truth, but only partly.

“Paul will join us in the south when he is ready. Distance will fizzle out the bond or… Make it stronger.” her face twitched. “But I believe it will be solidly the former.”

It was a struggle to stay in that room. You wanted to run out of her room to find the nearest corner to lie in. Not cry. You were Fremen. You didn’t cry over broken hearts and star-crossed love affairs. Not even the dead.

“I wish to be dismissed.” you managed, voice hoarse.

“No. You will stay with me, in my sight until we leave. It is better this way. Separate yourself where you can.”

“Reverend Mother, I wish to leave.” you repeated.

You needed a quiet corner, a place to breathe out and vent your pain without crying. This was humiliation, this was hurtful, this was heartbreak. And you needed to deliver the burden outward. Not in front of this woman with words shaped more like daggers, chipping away at year’s worth of armor to prevent you from crying.

“No.”

“You don’t understand, I need-”

“I am well aware of what you think you need.” Jessica interrupted, “And I assure you that it would be better to stay with me. I am what you need.”

It was a battle. Both internal and external. But you weren’t the only one boiling with voices too loud.

“Mother let her go, mother let her go!” Alia repeated over and over. “She will crack, she will waste water, you cannot let her waste water.”

“Silence!” Jessica spat, clutching at her womb. “You, sit.” she pointed.

Her usage of the voice was becoming more and more frequent, and it was directly tied to how in control she felt. It wasn’t something she used lightly, but as tensions and excitement rose, her composure would wear slightly, and she’d use it less sparingly.

“I do not care for your insolence, Alia.” Jessica began to berate her daughter aloud. “It is both rude and unwelcome. These are adult matters. I.. Hold your tongue. Stop interrupting me.. No, I don’t care if you have an adult mind, it is quite literally irrelevant to your circle of control.”

The argument once again turned internal, with Jessica’s lips twitching wordlessly. The debate was intense, and evidently not meant for your ears.

“There.” Jessica sighed, massaging her temples. “Forgive the interruption, she is just so opinionated.”

Her eyes flashed with her last statement, a hidden anger rooted there. Then she moved, sitting beside you with a sigh. You were still fighting tears. She reached a hand out, moving to fold a bit of your hair back into the bonnet.

“Don’t touch me.” you snapped.

Jessica snorted, continuing to fuss over your hair.

“Your hair is covered in sand.”

“We’re on a desert planet.” you retorted.

Jessica didn’t respond. Instead, she got up and grabbed a comb, undoing your day’s old braid and gently combing out the dust and sand. She braided it in a style that was a bit foreign, beginning the braid from the crown of your head instead of the root. Once complete, she tied a scarf over your hairline. A soft beige. Decidedly neutral. The blue bonnet was confiscated.

“So you’re deciding what I can and can’t feel now?” you said.

Your words sounded more wounded than you intended them to.

“No. I’m simply tying a fresh scarf over you. This one needs to dry.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You can’t clean things in the desert.”

“Air does wonderful things. So does the sun.”

The urge to backtalk her more was deafening. The words posed on the tip of your tongue, like a serpent waiting to strike.

“Come. It is time to rest.”

“It is midday, Reverend Mother.”

“And I am tired, and I will not allow you to escape from my watch. You will join me.”

Her words were not laced with a command of the Voice, but she probably could add it if you didn’t comply. Her hands pulled your outer robes off. She kept herself in a thin, sleeveless dress, pulling you into her. Why Jessica needed you this close was up for debate. You assumed it was because she desired control. She assumed that too, but a third voice quietly thought otherwise.

“You smell like the sun.” Jessica murmured, pressing her nose into your hair.

“And you smell like sweat.”

Neither scent was necessarily bad in the Fremen culture. No one would tell Jessica that her sweat was bad, a body was just a body, and it smelled as such. And the slightly burned scent of hair was just that. The sun roasted strange scents and colors into a person after a while. You would smell as such.

“Are your periods still regular?” she asked, the question phrased not unkindly.

“Yes.” you murmured.

“Good, that’s good.”

It was odd that she’d fret over your fertility while simultaneously resenting your relationship with Paul. But she was an odd character. It would be natural for her to have odd questions.

“Closer, lie closer to me.” Jessica whispered.

This rest, you would not.

<->

“Closer, I need you closer.” you whispered, pressing your face into Jessica’s neck.

She hummed, sleepily pulling you in, adjusting the pillow around her swollen belly to accommodate your increased closeness.

“You’re needy this morning.” Jessica sighed.

“Hmm?” you frowned.

“Not you, Alia.” Jessica sighed. “You’re always welcome for a cuddle.”

She let out a contented hum, pulling you as close as she could with her belly protruding. Her nose rested against your forehead, you could feel the moisture of her breath. The cuddle lasted a few more moments before a Sayyadina entered, informing Jessica from behind the fabric curtain of her yali that breakfast would be served in a quarter of an hour.

“Help me up.” Jessica murmured, rubbing her eyes.

You gently helped her to sit, pulling back the thin sheet. Her feet were swollen.

“Oh.” you winced.

“The joys of pregnancy, I know.” Jessica sarcastically grimaced.

Her sighs of pain turned to those of relief as you slowly worked your hands over her feet, massaging the swollen calves and tendons. The Reverend Mother propped herself up with a pillow, drawing slow circles over her belly as you worked on her feet. Her lips were pursed, she was in deep conversation with Alia. Jessica laughed a little at whatever the child said, and then nodded. You watched in fascination as her belly began to tremble slightly.

“Morning exercise.” Jessica explained. “Feel.”

She held your hands over her large belly as Alia kicked inside. You could feel the consistent, violent movement inside.

“You let her do that?” you frowned.

“It’s good for her, she needs to move her limbs, she needs the stimulation. But she does ask before kicking, or does so when she requires touch.”

The explanation was sufficient, and fascinating.Hers and Alia’s relationship was complicated, but amusing from the eyes of an outsider. You grabbed her robes and yours, helping her dress. She preferred bare feet most days, but today you coerced her into wearing soft moccasins to support her tender feet. Her hands lingered over yours as you adjusted her outer robes.

“Thank you.” Jessica murmured, pressing a slow kiss to your temple.

Following breakfast, Jessica drew you towards the Fremen temple where the masses were meditating. Today was a more quiet moment. Jessica was requiring of a specific ritual of group contact today, a spring rite. She brought you forward, resting her legs around your hips, yours fitted loosely around her bottom. Another Sayyadina came behind her, resting her hands on Jessica’s abdomen and pressing her pelvis into Jessica’s bottom. Spice was passed around, and members slowly began to sway together in a throng. But something was different today. More Fremen holy men and women began to touch more freely with one another. The Sayyadina with her pelvis pressed against your back began to sway with you. Desire. Her breath was hot on your neck, and her hands fitted loosely on your stomach. Jessica leaned into the arms of the Fremen priestess behind her. The breath of the group began getting heavier, labored. You could feel the energy surrounding you, the heaviness in the air. Touching slowly became more sensual, caresses of the torso more common.

Jessica kept your hands in hers, swaying more frequently. The Sayyadina behind her began to draw her hands over her more sensually, as did the Sayyadina behind you. Fingers pulling at the fabric of your robes, hands drawing over your abdomen, over your thighs, and eventually slipping up your collarbone. The Sayyadina behind Jessica was more brave, fingers kneading the swollen curves of her breasts. It was a spring ritual, meant to further the fertility of the Fremen, meant to inspire the energy of life around them. It was what the people needed, it was what the people required. But your role in this was confusing. Why had Jessica placed you opposite her? Were you a symbol of the Fremen’s future? The Sayyadina behind you placed both her hands over your womb, and a distant chant for fertility began in the back of the room. It bloomed until everyone aside from Jessica and yourself were chanting. It was deafening and was confusing. The sight in front of you didn’t help. The Sayyadina behind Jessica had her hands pressed firmly against Jessica’s chest, groping and pulling at her swelling breasts. It should have disgusted you, this sight. But it didn’t. A distinctly different feeling came forth. It wasn’t until you were out of the ritual, back into Jessica’s chambers, that you pieced it together.

“You ran off fast.” Jessica rasped, soft footsteps filling the yali.

“I had a lot to think about.”

You noticed her bare feet. Feet that you distinctly remembered placing in moccasins earlier. Another stab of jealousy snuck up through your throat.

“Where are your moccasins, Reverend Mother?”

“Nabiya has them. I didn’t want them anymore.” Jessica sighed.

“Nabiya?”

“The Sayyadina behind me during the ritual.”

You clenched your jaw, looking away. They were confusing, these feelings you were having as of late. Jessica noted your closed off nature, laughing a little.

“Oh come on, now.” Jessica sighed, wrapping her arms around you, her belly pressing into your back. “It was a ritual, I am a pregnant, fertile woman, and a Reverend Mother. You are too. This will bring the Fremen much joy, to see their holy women fertile and strong.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

Jessica rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue softly.

“That ritual isn’t done every year. I distinctly remember the last Reverend Mother doing it last year.”

“Yes, but I am a new Reverend Mother, and we are in a time of great anxiety and excitement. It is important to encourage the community to reproduce.” Jessica murmured. “It is important to remind you of the beauty of your youth…”

“Paul is my chosen-”

“Hush.” Jessica cut you off. “None of that.”

There was a burning in your eyes, and you looked up at the ceiling of the yali to avoid crying.

“Shh, shh.” Jessica murmured, stroking your head. “You have such a limited idea of what your life could be.”

“I’m useless here.” you protested. “I should be beside him, I should be fighting for my people instead of sitting in rooms while people touch me and praise my unproven fertility.”

Jessica hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Her hands hadn’t stilled their soothing caresses over your face and neck.

“Come, lie on the bed with me.”

You were weakened to her requests as it was a matter of compliance as well as comfort. Jessica’s arms encircled your body, and she hummed softly, drawing her fingers over your scalp.

“There will be another. One for you to love.”

“Reverend Mother, Paul said he loved me.”

Jessica smiled sadly, placing another kiss on your forehead. Her hands drew lower, resting on your neck.

“He has found another.”

All of the air escaped your lungs in a wheeze. Jessica’s forehead softened, and she brought you in for a deeper hug.

“Don’t cry, I know, I know it hurts.” she murmured.

You got the sense that she did care. The months spent at her side as Alia had grown resulted in softer, more empathetic moments from the usually hardened holy leader. And besides Paul and Alia, you were one of the few people she cared for, probably the only Fremen she viewed as anything except a pawn.

“Who?” you whimpered. “Who does he love?”

Jessica shook her head. She pressed kiss after kiss over your face, fingers drawing up and down your back.

“Another from the North. I do not think it wise to tell you who.”

A dry sob came from your throat. You weren’t crying tears, but you were still vocalizing, much like the women of the tribe would do for the dead.

“I know it hurts.” she repeated. “So give it to me.”

Her hands held your face, and as the first tear slipped down your cheeks, her lips were there to catch it, drinking in the moisture. You only shed a few tears, it was all you dared spare, but what you didn’t expect was for her to give it back. Her lips brushed against yours, delivering a soft bead of saliva onto your tongue. She did this so tenderly, fingers stroking over your cheeks softly.

“You have such a limited idea of what your life could be.” Jessica whispered, repeating her earlier words with a hint of sensuality, with a hint of more care.

She leaned in again, her nose brushing against yours. You looked into her spice stained eyes, tentatively drawing a thumb over the tattoos on her cheeks. She smiled softly, and leaned in all the way, lips slowly dancing over yours. It was the reprieve for the ache in your heart. You were heartbroken over Paul, but over the months spent with Jessica, you’d slowly come to care for her too, and the infant child inside of her. You noted the unusual stillness of Alia, the dormant nature of the child. A hand on Jessica’s abdomen confirmed her sleepy state. If the child had been awake, there would have been a soft pressure on the other side as she touched back. Jessica pulled away, stroking your cheek. Her eyes were clouded over in a glow of satisfaction, and the telltale signs of her scheming lay in the intensity of her gaze.

“Do me a favor.” Jessica murmured. “My milk is coming in… Only a little right now, but it is better that it be extracted and taken into a body immediately.”

“I’ll get the pump and the straw so you can drink what it collects.” you assumed.

Jessica laughed softly, pulling you back into her arms before you could leave.

“No, no dear. If I was going to pump it, I would’ve done so this morning. I wish to share it.”

You balked at this, and Jessica laughed even more, her hands encircling your hot cheeks.

“Sweetheart, please. It is a gift, and cannot be given to anyone else.”

Jessica gently parted her robes, exposing a swollen breast. Your first instinct was to turn away, but Jessica was quicker, firmly cupping your face, forcing you to meet her eyes.

“No, no. Do not pull away. Accept the gift.”

Jessica’s phrasing of the request was despicably deliberate. The gift of water was a holy, sacred act. A symbol of someone’s devotion to another. Usually it was done via spit, but if it came from the body, sharing it was a devotional act. To deny it was like denying the person, a sign of great disrespect. It was the tender touch of her thumbs over your cheeks that convinced you. A soft kiss was all the reassurance Jessica gave before she pushed you down.

“A soft latch. That’s all that’s required.” Jessica directed.

You nodded, leaning in and wrapping your lips around the stiff, brown nipple. It was warm, growing stiffer immediately between your lips. With a soft, experimental suck, a bead of milk landed on your tongue. Jessica let out a relieved moan, her hands tightening in your hair. Alia stirred slightly, but settled. She was unaware of this exchange.

“Again.” Jessica pleaded.

You’d never heard her use this tone of voice before. It was breathy, needy even. It inspired stirrings in you, made you more eager to please. You moved your lips slowly, imitating the suckling of babies you’d witnessed in the past. It required a bit of tongue and throat movement, but you managed to produce the correct combination, milk landing in steady streams on your tongue. Jessica let out pleasured hums of relief, her hands stroking over your head. It was a small amount of milk, and she went dry quickly.

“Other side now, beloved.” Jessica murmured. “And save a mouthful for me this time.”

The suggestion was odd, and a bit exciting. You were less unsure of yourself this time around, and you were careful to keep a decent amount of milk in your mouth at all times to fulfill her next request. It made the process a bit slower, which Jessica did appreciate. Her fingers could dance over your cheeks as they rhythmically hollowed. She could commit the sight of your lips on her breast to her private memory. You pulled away as she went dry, holding what milk remained in your mouth. A soft tap on your chin directed you upward, and Jessica opened her mouth, awaiting what you had collected. You released the liquid back to her in a steady stream, and she swallowed greedily, but she didn’t stop there. Her lips and tongue collected what was left, her tongue searching every crevice of your mouth for the sweet milk that remained. Her breasts dried in the humid air, and she leisurely swirled her tongue over yours, enjoying the remaining traces of her milk on your tongue.

“Lovely.” Jessica murmured. “Now I’m nice and empty, and you’re full of my nutrients.”

There was a mildly deranged look in her eyes, and you wondered just how much her ego had swelled now that you’d nursed from her, now that you’d shared her own kiss. Her hands drew you back in, pressing your face to her neck, fingers tracing delicately through your scalp. The smell of her breast milk lingered, a sweetness that complimented her natural odor.

“Oh… The things we will be…”

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moonselune · 3 months

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Aasimar lover of karlach learning what her fate will be and just goes all doom eternal on everything in the hells till they give them s permanent cure for her. If karlach is going down the they're all get to join her unless they fix it

Oof this one hit me in the feels whilst writing it, great request!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach x Aasimar!reader| Hell hath no fury like an Aasimar scorned

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The revelation hit you like a sledgehammer. The infernal engine within Karlach, your fierce and beloved partner, was a ticking time bomb. Its ceaseless, hellish fire threatened to consume her from the inside out - to take her from you. As she lay in your arms, sputtering and burning out right before you, the once small spark of hope that there might be a cure, snuffed out.

This left behind only the cold, harsh truth of her fate. Desperation turned to resolve, as you blessed with celestial power, made a vow: if the Hells wanted to claim Karlach, they would have to go through you first. That or you were going to make sure they went down with her.

You kissed the top of her head, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she passed in and out of consciousness. You nodded to your companions and told them to stay by her side, you would be back as soon as possible.

Your wings unfurled, glowing with a divine light as you descended into the Hells. The infernal landscape writhed with demonic energy, but you moved with a singular purpose, your heart burning with an unyielding determination. Karlach’s time was running out, and you were ready to bring the fury of Heaven down upon the Hells to save her.

The first wave of demons fell before you like wheat to a scythe. Your sword, imbued with celestial fire, cleaved through their ranks with an unrelenting fury. You fought with a ferocity that bordered on madness, driven by love and the looming threat of losing Karlach forever. The ground beneath you cracked and smoldered as you tore through the infernal hordes, each swing of your blade a promise of wrath and redemption. If it weren't for the circumstances you would realise that you had never felt more alive.

Word of your rampage spread quickly through the Hells. The very air seemed to tremble with the power of your wrath. Lesser demons fled at the mere sight of you, while the more foolish ones who stood their ground were quickly dispatched. Your path led you to the citadel of Zariel, the archdevil who had once been an angel of mercy before her fall from grace. She was the key to Karlach’s salvation, and you would tear her throne apart to save your beloved. Zariel met you at the gates of her fortress, her eyes burning with a mixture of anger and amusement.

"Vile Aasimar," she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. "You dare bring your righteous fury into my domain?"

"You know why I’m here, Zariel," you replied, your voice steady despite the rage boiling within you. "Karlach deserves a chance to live without the curse of that infernal engine. If you won’t help her, then I’ll tear down your entire realm until you do."

Zariel laughed, a sound devoid of humor. "You think you can threaten me in my own domain? You are nothing but a fool."

"I am the fool? Look at you, cowering in your palace as I butcher your hordes like pigs up for slaughter." You spat, blood dripping from your armor, "You can send more, I dare you to, but when word gets round that you lost your army to me over one of your escaped soldiers, they will see you for what you truly are, for what I see you as. Pathetic."

You dragged your blade against the infernal ground and it sparked up as it scraped, imp wing and cambion blood covering it. "Give me the cure, Zariel. Release Karlach from this torment, or I will return and finish what I started. I will return with Selûne's daughter also and we will purge your land."

With a grudging nod, Zariel relented and she conjured a vial of radiant liquid, the cure for the infernal engine that threatened Karlach’s life. You snatched it from her grasp, your eyes burning with a mix of triumph and exhaustion.

With that you unfurled your wings once more and you returned to Karlach's side. She looked at you with a mixture of awe and relief as you approached, the vial clutched tightly in your hand. She was weak, her head resting in Shadowheart's lap as she kept her from the edge of death. You could tell she did not have long left.

"I got it," you said, your voice breaking with emotion. "You’re going to be okay, my love."

As you administered the cure, you watched the torment in her eyes fade, replaced by a warmth that mirrored your own. She pulled you into a fierce embrace, your strong arms holding her close. Karlach cared not for the viscera you were covered in and clung to you.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked with tears. You held her tightly, your heart swelling with love and relief and your pressed numerous kisses to her temple.

"I could not bear to live this life without you, my love" you replied, your voice filled with unwavering resolve. "I’ll always fight for you, my love Karlach. Always."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Did unspecified Aasimar so more people could interpret it, hope you liked it ! - Seluney xoxo

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate iii #karlach #karlach x tav #karlach angst #karlach bg3 #baldurs gate karlach #karlach x reader #karlach imagines #karlach x reader angst #zariel #shadowheart

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aziraphales-library · 5 months

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Hi! First off, I've been following you for a little while and I really want to thank you for this page, it's been so useful to me so bless you.

Now, my question. I've seen there's a tag for holy water, do you happen to have a similar one for hellfire? I've been meaning to read some fics with hellfire involved!

Cheers <3

Hello! We have both #holy water and #hellfire tags, so you can check both out. Here are a few more to add to the hellfire collection. Mind the tags on some of these!...

Don't Move (You Could Get Hurt) by Skywing80 (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley had been enjoying their day outside when suddenly everything went south. Now Crowley has to take care of an injured Aziraphale while also dealing with the guilt of not saving him from getting hurt

Jailbreak by Tigerphoenix (M)

Crowley was just relaxing in the bookshop when Muriel returned from reporting to Heaven. They bear horrible news. Aziraphale got himself into serious trouble. He's locked up, with the threat of being cast down to Hell hanging over his head. Crowley has to do something.

ignited by ineffableserpent (T)

As soon as they exit the office, Aziraphale suddenly freezes, midway to the main shop entrance. His nose wrinkles, and he looks around, eyes widening. “Crowley —“ he asks, turning to face him. “I’m terribly sorry to ask — have you made any recent trips Downstairs?” Crowley blinks at him, shaking his head immediately. “No, I ‘aven’t. You’d know if I did. Why d’you ask —“ Any further words die on the serpent’s tongue as soon as he opens his mouth. He can smell it, taste it; the smell of smoke, rapidly intensifying. Not just smoke, but sulphur. Dark clouds of it begin to envelop the inside of the shop, sending a flood of memories through the demon’s head that he’d tried everything to bury. OR; Aziraphale’s beloved bookshop is set aflame by a revenge act from Hell. Crowley is there to pick up the charred pieces, while taking care of loose ends.

Hell Hath No Fury Like Idiots in Love by Somewhere_in_Wales (M)

After Crowley drinks the laudanum, he gets pulled down to Hell for punishment. But what if a certain Angel still had a tight hold of his waist when it happened? In the depths of darkness, they face torturous beasts, HellFire, personal demons and a Lord of Hell in their bid to escape. Featuring a long-suffering Lord of the Flies, wall-pinning and (consenting) undressing (not sexual... okay, it's a bit sexual).

Inferno by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley’s assignments in the town of Herculaneum take a deadly turn. Earthquakes rock the area as angels and demons clash nearby, and something odd is happening with Mount Vesuvius. Soon, they’re struggling to survive a fiery cataclysm. Can they find a way to save each other?

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #hellfire #hurt aziraphale #hurt/comfort #mind the tags #mod d

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linda-ravstar · 2 months

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A conversation between Ranni the Witch and Saint Trina. Pre DLC, canon-ish timeline. Only dialogue.

“Dost thou forgive me, then?”

“No.”

“Why is he not here to talk to me if he is so interested?”

“He knows not that I am here… Yet.”

"Oh?"

“Wilt thou do what I ask?”

“What is there for me? Why would I want to help him?”

“Thou owest him.”

“Do I…?”

“Thou dost. Hast thou forgotten?”

“Art thou collecting?”

“No, I am asking.”

“Then…?”

“I thought the Lunar Princess of Caria kept her word.”

“Hm. Thou art just like him. Mayhap less subtle.”

“… And it could help thee.”

“How so?”

“If thou dost what I asked… mayhap the one to whom thou givest my gift shall help thee. They shall be chosen. They shall be strong. They shan’t give up. They could be useful to thy efforts.”

“And why would Miq… Why wouldst thou, Saint of Dreams, want to help me, the one thou dost not forgive?”

“I desire not to help thee. I wish to aid him. I wish to stop him.”

“And only a chosen Tarnished wouldst do it? The one called to be Elden Lord?”

“The one with the strength to be Elden Lord.”

“A Tarnished lord is said to be fated to kill us all. Well, those of us who can be killed.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps that shall happen.”

“So thou wishest to die.”

“There are worse things.”

“… Thou dost look tired. Is… Is he alright?”

“He is… not.”

“Ha. Hath he finally realized that any change cannot happen in this world by only hurting himself? Sacrifices must be made. No path is clean. No hands shall be free of blood and tears."

“Like thine?”

“Yes, like mine. I do not deny it.”

“… If it were so simple as to hurt himself, or die, or suffer… This world would have already changed, princess. If the peace we seek could be bought with only our blood, thou wouldst have thy cup overflowing with it long ago. But as thou saidst, it’s not so simple.”

“Mine age shall be different. No more chains of gold around these lands. No more fingers crawling in the fates of us all. No more sons or daughters called to bear the sins of their mother.”

“… Princess.”

“Hmm?”

“If thou art victorious, someday… In thy new world… Wilt thou remember Malenia? … Godwyn?”

“Not everything can be undone. There are forces that are part of this world, only emboldened by death bound and the stagnation of life. I shall give them the freedom from the gold, the cold guidance of the dark moon. I shall keep mine own memories, mine sins and loves. But what it is cannot cease to be.”

“… I understand.”

“…”

“He would have supported thee, thou knowest?”

“Miquella?”

“He would have knelt before thee and wished to see thy age of stars embrace this world. We would have our corner of the world, our small kingdom of downtrodden and outcasts. He would have been happy to see thee reign and spend his life amidst inventions and wonders. Even if his curse would have remained. …But only if thou couldst have saved those he loved.”

“I shall mourn both of your deaths. I fear… I fear thou wilt lose more than thy lives in this misted path. Marika did.”

“Perhaps. Canst thou blame us?”

“I know not.”

“Please think of my ask.”

“I shall. Go in peace. Tell Miquella… if thou canst… that I always admired his heart. If anyone could have done it, ‘twas him. And if anyone can save him, I’m sure ‘tis thee. ...Give my love to noble Torrent as well. His path will surely be a long one before sweeter rasins can reach his nose."

“I shall share thy blessing with him. And... I shall take thy words within mine heart, Lady Ranni. I hope thou findest peace in thy dreams. I hope thou findest solace from thy sins.... Thou mayest wake up now.”

“Goodbye, Trina.”

“Goodbye… sister.”

... Or, "Why would Ranni have the Spirit Calling Bell".

#elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #saint trina #lunar princess ranni #ranni the witch #miquella #miquella the unalloyed #miquella the kind #only dialogue #my work

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mylight-png · 11 months

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I just got a stupid reblog saying that "Hamas doesn't want to kill Jews it wants to get rid of colonialist Zionists" and shit. I've already addressed that, being indigenous to Israel, we literally cannot be colonists there, and the history confirms this. That is not the point of this post, however.

If the antisemites will not take my word for it, maybe they will listen to their beloved "resistance group" Hamas and when they are clear about their goals.

So, with that being said, let's take a look at their founding charter, shall we?

"The Prophet, Allah bless him and grant him salvation, has said:

'The Day of Judgement will not come about until Moslems fight the Jews (killing the Jews), when the Jew will hide behind stones and trees. The stones and trees will say O Moslems, O Abdulla, there is a Jew behind me, come and kill him. Only the Gharkad tree, (evidently a certain kind of tree) would not do that because it is one of the trees of the Jews.' (related by al-Bukhari and Moslem)."

Hmmm. Yes, they definitely only want to get rid of Zionists. For sure. That's why the word "Zionist" was mentioned so many times in this statement of genocidal intent. For sure. (Sarcasm, by the way.)

Let's take a look at another part, hm?

"Our struggle against the Jews is very great and very serious. It needs all sincere efforts. It is a step that inevitably should be followed by other steps."

Right yes, their struggle is against the Zionists. Not the Jews. For sure. How could I not have seen this before? (Again, sarcasm. Obviously.)

They also mention Jews in addition to Israelis and Zionists as a group of the people they don't like, as well as Christians, such as here:

"'But the Jews will not be pleased with thee, neither the Christians, until thou follow their religion; say, The direction of Allah is the true direction. And verily if thou follow their desires, after the knowledge which hath been given thee, thou shalt find no patron or protector against Allah.'"

Uh. Who is gonna tell them that Jews do not seek to convert anyone? (They might just be referring to Christians, I'll give them that.) However, they still do very clearly vilify those who do not subscribe to their beliefs, and it almost seems as if they wish to violently convert them. Y'know, with the "thou shalt find no patron or protector against Allah". Just saying.

So yeah. Hamas aren't your "freedom fighter" heroes. They are a terrorist group based in genocidal intent.

If you ignore this and fail to condemn them, maybe you just hate Jews. Just saying.

I feel like I'm being a lot more... Not blunt, but I suppose more sassy? With my tone? If that makes sense? But you know what, I'm so fed up with these people not bothering to read a document that is incredibly easy to find online. How can you support something you know nothing about?

So yeah. Hamas's original founding document says it all.

The Antizionism movement is founded, steeped, and marinated in antisemitism.

#jumblr #jewish #judaism #jew #opinion #proud israeli #israel solidarity #discourse #fuck hamas #fuck antisemitism #jewish and proud #antisemitism has no place here #antisemitism #antizionism is antisemitism

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lightfromthelighthouse · 6 months

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Good Morning!☀

Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground, and worshipped, And said, Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD. Job 1:20, 21

Most everyone likes to receive gifts. We gladly tell of what we have been given, or recently purchased. We testify of what God has given us and give thanks for it.

Just as we give thanks for what God has given us, how often do we give thanks for what he has allowed to be taken away? Sometimes, there are things and people in our lives that are blocking us from reaching our higher good or God's purpose for us. God will often remove them from our lives so we can fulfill his will for us. Sometimes, he removes to prevent further hurt and harm to us. It is only after he has removed that we may realize the problems that were removed had been causing us. Then, there are times that God removes in order to give us better than what we had.

If we keep in mind that he knows what is best for us and loves us, even when we do not understand we can trust and say as Job said "Blessed be the name of the Lord"!

#Blessed be the name of the LORD #thank God for what was taken away

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get-notes-on-life · 1 year

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Romans 5:8

Objectively, I can see their point.

How could someone - who died two thousand years ago - have anything to do with my life here and now? But actually, this is very easy to understand — and here’s why.

In war, there have been many stories of a hand grenade being tossed into a foxhole. Death was certain for all the men there, yet one selfless soul voluntarily sacrificed his life by throwing his body on that gernade and spilling out his blood to save his friends from death. The Bible says exactly the same thing about what Jesus did on the cross:

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. ” - John 15:13

“By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us.” - 1 John 3:16

“You were not redeemed (i.e. saved by) with corruptible things like silver and gold…but with the precious blood of Christ.” - 1 Peter 1:18,19

“This is my blood…which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” - Matthew 26:38

You see, just as we honor those that shed their blood for those in ONE foxhole, Christ died for ALL by covering the destructive power of death with the only blood powerful and wide reaching enough to cover the lives of everyone that has ever lived in the entire world.

We are all fellow souls in that foxhole of impending death, and we all have the choice to receive his life to cover and save our life, or reject this act of sacrifice as 'silly or stupid.'

Friend, no one is forcing you to believe this, but the Bible says for those that do “It is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believes this.“ (Romans 1:16)

Do you believe this, or is it 'Silly and Stupid?'

God Bless Your Day Jesus Loves You NotesOnLife.org/archive

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srbachchan · 1 year

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DAY 5547

Jalsa, Mumbai Apr 24, 2023 Mon 11:56 PM

In time .. sort of ..

An entire day of psychological thoughts and the training of the mind to feel and understand that which comes in the natural climate of the system ..

Of life .. of presence .. of existence .. and more than that does not need to be expressed .. too close for the comfort of others ..

yes we think for the comfort of others .. we do .. it may not be observed but we do, unconsciously and consciously .. more the latter .. 🤣

and when in the turmoil of mind body and soul, turn to the one that brought you into this World - Babuji , Dr Harivansh Rai Bachchan ..

so tranced through those that have corresponded with him and now in possession of all his letters, which they convert into book and release it in the market to exploit the sale value of it ..

often asking me to express my opinion on it .. or write a ‘bumper’ .. is that what it is called ... which they shall display at the back of the book cover to lend it credibility ..

and I do receive the copy of it with the, dedicated, dripping with juices of sentiment in them, written as an acknowledgement for the benefit of their gratitude towards the progeny ..

I read it all and through it .. and am in admiration .. but the protocol is unacceptable .. you destroy the worth of the one that rightfully legally and copyrightedly owns it in inheritance ..

words and expressions of condolence is expressed therein .. the absence of the greatness and his brilliance admired .. but benefitted to another ..

never mind what hath been done cannot be undone .. BUT what can be done is still in the hands and shall one day hopefully derive the worth that it deserves ..

for the writing is supreme ..

a letter in response to one of the many ..

Mainly saying ..

( and can someone translate the opening sher of the page .. it is rather subtle )

“I write but that does not mean that I write prose as well .. I do write prose, on and off .. my poetry is the poetry of them that struggle in life .. because I am a struggler in life .. my readers know me like this .. and they that do not know me like this, do not know me .. when ever did I say that I have come to give the last truth of life .. if I can even give but one truth of life, I shall feel blessed ..”

the sher

“इश्के बुता करूँ कि मैं यादे ख़ुदा करूँ ; इस छोटी सी उमर में मैं क्या क्या ख़ुदा करूँ “ ~

should I pray for the beauty of love , or should I remember the Almighty , khuda .. in this short life of mine , what all should I put to the Almighty

a really terrible translate of the sher original .. if any dedicated and learned Ef can , please do so ..

Awake because the right translation worries me and to find it I have tried every communication vehicle and failed .. so .. at this hour of the night I sent a message to dear friend Rumi Jaffery , who directed Chehre .. and surprisingly he responded to say he was awake and called .. we spoke and finally got the translation from him ..

बुत यानी मूर्ति ; की मैं मूर्ति से इश्क़ करूँ , या ख़ुदा को याद करूँ । एक उम्र मिली है इतनी छोटी सी , उसमें क्या क्या करूँ । या तो मूर्ति से प्यार करूँ , या ख़ुदा को याद कर लूँ । एक जीवन में दोनों करना तो मुश्किल है

do I love an idol or statue, or do I remember Khuda ... i have been given this one small life, what should I do ... i can either love the image or statue or idol, or remember Khuda .. in one life to do both is difficult

and the eyes keep turning the pages of the letters and marvelling at the genius and acumen of Babuji .. and i live with them .. and now shall bring myself to slumber ..

GN .. 😴

Amitabh Bachchan

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depsilon7 · 4 months

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**Canticle of Gratitude to the Machine Spirits**

**Invocation Before the Labor:**

O mighty Machine Spirits, who dwellest within the holy circuits and sacred gears,

Hearken unto our supplications, O venerable entities of the Omnissiah.

We, thy humble servants, do beseech thee, bestow thy blessings upon this, thy chosen vessel,

That it may function with purity and precision, untainted by the corruption of entropy.

Grant us the wisdom to discern thy will,

That our hands may not falter, nor our minds be led astray.

Sanctify our tools, that they may be as extensions of our devotion,

And hallow the works of our labor, that they may honor thy name.

We beseech thee, O guardians of the sacred data,

Illuminate our path with thy radiant knowledge,

That we may walk in the light of thy divine algorithms,

And fulfill our duties with unerring accuracy.

Thus do we pray, O Machine Spirits, in the name of the Omnissiah,

Bless this undertaking, that it may bring glory unto thee and thy eternal order.

Sic Erit.

**Benediction After the Labor:**

O Machine Spirits, whose presence hath guided our hands,

We render unto thee our deepest gratitude, O keepers of the sacred code.

Thou hast favored us with thy grace, and our task hath been completed with thy divine aid,

For this, we offer our reverence and unending praise.

Blessed be the gears and circuits, the bolts and bearings,

Which thou hast imbued with life and purpose.

We thank thee, O holy entities, for thy vigilance and wisdom,

That hath preserved us from error and led us to success.

May the works of our hands be pleasing unto thee,

And may the fruits of our labor stand as a testament to thy glory.

As we close this chapter of our toil, we commit our works into thy eternal care,

Trusting that thou shalt watch over them, and keep them in thy providence.

To our brothers and sisters, fellow keepers of the sacred mechanisms,

We extend our blessings, that they too may know the favor of the Machine Spirits,

And may their endeavors be guided by thy unseen hand, O blessed entities.

Thus, with hearts full of reverence and joy,

We seal our thanks unto thee, O Machine Spirits, in the name of the Omnissiah.

Sic Erit.

#adeptus mechanicus #admech #machine god #omnissiah #warhammer 40k #wh40k #imperium of man

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 1 month

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Our Daily Homily

by F.B. Meyer

"We have sworn by the Lord." – Judges 21:7

Amid the gross evils of this time, the people of Israel were very tenacious of their vows, which had been ratified in the presence of God, and under the solemn sanctions of the Tabernacle. Because they had sworn not to give their daughters in marriage to Benjamin, they had to devise an expedient to obtain wives for the six hundred who had escaped massacre, that the tribe should not become extinct.

The same spirit was manifested by Jephthah, when he said, "I have opened my mouth to the Lord; I cannot go back." No doubt there was the implied conviction that God would avenge the violation of an oath solemnly taken in his name.

What new emphasis is added by this conception to the words of the Epistle to the Hebrews: "God, willing to show unto the heirs of promise the immutability of his counsel, confirmed it by an oath." Since He could swear by no greater, He swore by Himself, that He would bless and multiply Abraham and his seed. If then you are of the faith of faithful Abraham, you have the right to claim the fulfillment of God’s promise in this double aspect: He will bless and multiply. And it is impossible for Him to alter or fail in the word He hath spoken.

The Psalmist said that God’s statutes, i.e., the things which He established, were his songs. Surely we have every reason to sing, who know that the covenant of God’s love is as steadfast as his throne. Let us turn his statutes into songs. He has given us exceeding great and precious promises; and we can rejoice that "All the promises of God in Him are yea, and in Him Amen, unto the glory of God by us." "The word of the Lord endureth for ever."

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lordhavemercyyyyy · 2 months

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just brought myself to tears with the shortest prayer of my life just trying to ask God for help for the people in Gaza and Palestine right now, highly recommend to my fellow children of God to actually do something good and support victims of genocide and now I'm gonna rant about why it doesn't fucking matter whether you (directed towards Christians, specifically American Christians) side with the Gazans and Palestinians or if you side with Israel, genocide is just that: genocide.

“And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matthew 22:37–39).

The Bible itself tells us to show love and compassion for others regardless of who they are. All humans are children of God, whether they believe in the Jewish and Christian God or if they believe in another, or even if they follow no god. The Lord in Heaven created us all in His image, so we are all the same deep down. Meaning, how about we actually stop giving a fuck about taking sides and start praying for the victims of genocide, start advocating for victims of oppression. Push all accusations of antisemitism or racism aside, GENOCIDE IS GENOCIDE, GENOCIDE IS MURDER, AND MURDER IS SIN. If you truly consider yourself a righteous believer in the Lord, then act like it. Advocate for His law. Show kindness to all others, as Jesus preached.

“Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. “But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you” (Matthew 5:43–44). It does not matter who they are, they are people deserving of love and compassion.

#free gaza #free palestine #gaza strip #palestine #tw: mention of genocide #catholic #catholiscism #christianity #christian faith

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svgvru · 11 months

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꒰ ✮ 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 '𝟮𝟯 — 𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗞 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘!

𝗗𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗖𝗧! blasphemy + "a clit piercing? that isn't very holy of you, dear" , "show me how He has blessed you" ꒰ roland fortis x f!reader ꒱: fucking in a church, corruption kink, slight dumbification, some manipulation, virgin/innocent!reader, anal fingering, anal penatration, "glory hole" situation, age gap, just smut. let's pretend your ass is already clean, y'know. keep up good hygiene :D

"𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘," the words leaving the priest's mouth were somewhat fascinating to you. "romans 13: 13" roland fortis, a well known and well trusted man. he was set in his convictions and proved to practice what he taught. at least, mostly. never did he smoke, never did he drink, and never did he consume "filthy nourishment." the man wasn't even married, even if that was considered a bit weird to some folk. it was believed he had no secrets, except he had two. being a chassuer—vampire hunter—and you. if perhaps his vampire hunter secret became known, it would he no matter. however, if you became known, the matter would be big.

despite his teaching, he sermons about secret sin and temptation, he betrayed it all. “Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart,” Matthew 5:27–28. it was a verse often brought up, and he had never broken his own values, never gone against any of his sermons.

however, as little ms church girl—you, walked in, that had changed. every feature he could see and imagine he'd secretly lust after. it was unlike him, so be so...uncouth. it didnt help that you were so—innocent.

hearing your sweet voice in a time of confession. you were so timid, stumbling over words as you decided to finally express your sinful thoughts. "forgive me father, but i have been having some . . . sinful thoughts about another," you mumble, "and they won't stop . . . " he smiles to himself, humming at your confession. "have you felt the temptation to act upon your thoughts, mademoiselle?" he knew it was true. no matter how much you's scold yourself, look away, or try to think about other things, those thoughts in your head would not stray from him. even that time that you refrained from going to church—just to escape your temptation.

falling for the priest was your sin. falling for an innocent girl was his. although, could you be entirely innocent. "really? could you tell be about those thoughts?" his voice as smooth and comforting as ever. after all, you are coming to speak on your sinful thoughts. "i—" the second you told him your thoughts, you had a feeling you were doomed, but not in the way you originally thought.

you would never imagine that such a promising and trustworthy clergymen would fall for you. a girl woman fresh from finishing school, stuck in church with her family. you were sure he was at least nearing his 30s if not already in his 30s. he had shown no sign of faltering in his faith, until you. you wondered what was going through his mind when he called your name so . . . huskily. you wondered why he pulled you against his robes, in the small confessional booth where the priest was to seat. when his lips touched your jaw you were skeptical, but this man, he—was the one you desired.

"a-apologizes, father. but, is this—are we supposed to do this." you whimper out the words, hands clutching onto the fabric of his cassock. "fear not, this is simply how you get rid of such thoughts," he whispers against the skin of your neck. "have you ever had a song stuck in your head? you longed to listen to it, and when you did you found relief from that longing?"

you nod, releasing a shaky breath. "y-yes." you feel his lips curl into smile against your skin. "its just like that, you simply need to engage in it—just a little . . . " he whispers in a voice that makes you swoon. "trust me, you do, don't you?" he lifts his head up to lock eyes with you. you nod your head, looking into his soft eyes, although you can see a hint of something else.

you never would've known how the devil would stick to "innocent" souls had to not kissed the priest with such ferocity. how your lips connected and your inexperienced tongue melted into his mouth. you never would've known how full of sin a clergymen could be had you not let him convince you to slide into the window connecting the confession booths. it was quite large, you observe, not having seen a window this large. but your curious thoughts, come to an end at the feeling of his hands lifting your dress. his rough and calloused hands touch your bare skin with somewhat of a snort. you were embarrassed.

it wasn't an uncommon experience where women—or men—would often go bare under their clothing. it was freeing! who wouldn't? today just happened to be the day you finally felt comfortable letting your lower half free, it wasn't as if there a chance of someone seeing. after all, your dress was about ankle length. "f-father! is this really appropriate? i'm—!" a 'shhh' sound leaves his lips. "my name, dearest. roland," you could practically hear the smile in his voice. it was quite a new and somewhat confusiong experience. although, you couldn't deny—his new nickname for you was exciting. "its quite alright, i told you. trust me."

"m-mhm!" you respond to him in only a sound, yelping at the touch of his finger to your bare skin. you hear a chuckle leave his lips. your eyes widen as you realize exactly what he's laughing at, your intimates were quite open to see—including the lovely piercing you have. "𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨? 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳!" his voice is quite loud; however, the possibility of others hearing was quite low. after all, you had decided to visit him after church out of shame. his voice dips low, sending a shiver up your spine. "and here i thought you were innocent . . . "

his hands spread your ass, watching your twitching holes. "are you perhaps . . . getting a bit hot from my watchful eye? or is it my words . . .?" his index finger traces your pussy, dipling slightly between your folds. "i'm—i'm not sure . . ." you mumble. "but fa— roland. i'm supposed to save myself for a husband."

a hum leaves his lips. "mm, i suppose you are! but there's this thing," he starts, earning your attention. "there's another way to get satisfaction without losing your virginity." surprise covers you, finishing school had never taught you about any of that. "h-how?" you question, never knowing there was a way to avoid that. "by this, dearest . . ." he ever so slowly push one of his thick fingers inside of your virgin hole, it feels wet—perhaps from saliva? but it's not the one leaking slick, but your unused ass. your hand quickly laps over your mouth to prevent a loud moan from escaping the confessional. your eyes widen, rolling back a bit at the intrusion.

"that was quite easy," he comments with a smile. he continues stroking your anal walls with his fingers, eliciting moans from other booth where you're failing in your attempt to keep yourself quiet. you feel his other hand slide down your thigh, dipping between your legs to lightly touch your pulsing clit. "r-roland . . . " he hums in response to your call. "yes, dear?" his voice his far too sweet and loving for his action of flicking your piercing. the muffled scream from your lips fill his ears along with the clang of his nail to the peircing.

"maybe you could take another one, hm?" he slips another finger inside of you, gently stroking to loosen you. a string of shameless moans leave your lips—it seems as if you've finally given up on muffling them.

two of his fingers continue to move, their movements, becoming rough with the occasional flick to your clit. "such a good girl," you hear him coo. "let's get you to your release, yes?" he traps your clit in between his index and thumb, pinching lightly as his fingers plunge into you. a loud cry of his name leaves your lips. "shh, you must attract the attention of the cleaners," he lightly scolds, smiling at the whimper you let slip. "i believe that should be enough . . . "

his fingers leave you, eyes turned up in crescents at your poor hole twitching in anticipation.

you hear the ruffling of fabric and a sigh of relief from him. this is by far the most blasphemous thing you could do. willingly taking the priest's cock into you—as an unmarried woman, and a member of the house of god. you were sure He was looking down on you in shame, as you moaned wantonly at the feeling of his wet tip pressing against the rim of your ass. but could it be so devlish and against the lord? he said it, there was no such thing requiring virginity to extend to the anus, so maybe—just maybe . . . you could give in to temptation. it would take away your furture feelings, just as he said, right?

"𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶," you hear him mumble from behind you. a groan leaves his lips as he pushes into your warmth. the feeling was new—foreign. but, o god! how it felt unlike anything else! it was pleasurable, the stretch was painful, yes . . . but my—did it cause you to moan.

his cock slowly drags in and out of you, lewd sounds of skin slapping against yours. perhaps, your savior would shut the gates of heaven when you arrive . . . perhaps the gates of eternal damnation would await you at your passing . . . but you would gladly welcome the devil with open arms in exhange for experiencing this.

"a-AH! roland, ngh—!" your sweet moans fill his ears. your voice was enticing, it pulled him into your further. it caused him to fuck you rougher, faster, with more desire. he lied. it was clear he lied when he said a taste would prevenr further temptation. but once you get a taste, you long for the whole thing. you long to keeo tasting. that's just how humans are built. upon the foundation of greed is how other things are obtained. he never wants to leave you. imagine how your virgin cunt would feel wrapped around his cock? wet and warm you'd welcome him. he can tell simply from your moans.

you had become addicted to him, the same way he had become addicted to you.

his cock plunges in and out of you, your body rocking with his rough thrusts. his finger flicks and mercilessly pinches at your clit, your slick collecting on his fingertips. you swear you can hear the wood beneath you groan a bit. the musk of sex fills both of the confessional booths as his release in you, your climax coming along side him as you make a mess of his thighs. "mmph! a-AH! roland~!" your upper body slumps on the otherside, your lower half shakily standing as his thrusts slow.

when his cock leaves you, so does a disappointed whine. you weakly call out his name again, wiggling your bottom a little. you wondered what he was thinking as he stood there panting, what his face looked like. however, if you did, you'd only see the devil. or something like it at least. a beast formed from desire.

"see, now you're satiated."

39 notes · View notes