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latenightsimping · 2 years

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Nothing Else Matters

Summary: Being Jason Carver’s little sister can be be hell. Especially when you fall in love with someone he despises. Jason has a plan to break you up, and it almost works. Almost. (Part 2 is here!)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word count: 6,618

Warnings: V ANGSTY, angst to fluff, heavy themes of bullying, themes of child abuse and neglect, Jason Carver is an absolute shitheel in this, mentions of suicide, argument heavy in one part, reader is Jason Carver’s little sister, this is kind of a rough one for the first three quarters or so, it does get better I swear, posted without being beta read and in the early hours of the morning

AN: This was a wonderful request that I got from borhapgirlforlife19, and my first one for this blog, so thank you!! Really hope you enjoy it! The request asked for smut at the end, and I’m gonna be working on that in the next couple of days! I wanted to put it in two parts; one because this got quite long, and also separating it means that those who don’t wanna read smut can choose not to click on the second half if they wish! Actually gave myself psychic damage writing some of this lmao

Being the little sister to the school’s golden boy had both good and bad connotations. For one, you weren’t picked on throughout your years in high school, able to weave through the halls and mind your own business. Make a couple of friends, and manage to keep your head down and focus on your grades.

However, the downside was that Jason was the one to make your life hell, if he was in one of his moods. A couple of times he’d humiliated you for some inane reason that he thought required payback. The worst had been when you’d told your Mom about him sneaking out at night to drink with his buddies, only to come back from a gym class the next day to find your fantasy books in shreds after they’d been stolen from your bag. No doubt orchestrated by Jason as revenge, seeing as the cheerleaders seemed to follow his every command.

It was how you and Eddie had first met, the day that it happened.

You were crying under the East stairwell during class, hating the thought of having to go to class and face the smug looks on the faces of your bullies, knowing they’d finally got to you by ruining the one thing you enjoyed. Back pressed against the cold bricks, arms wrapped around your legs and your forehead pressed against your knees as you tried to will yourself to stop crying.

“What’re you cryin’ for, pretty girl?” he had asked you softly, making your head snap up to look at him. A halo of dark curls and soft brown eyes, such a contrast against his rough and sharp outfit of ripped jeans and chains. When you only sniffled in response, he carefully crouched in front of you, a respectful distance away as he placed his rings hands against his knees. “Somethin’ bad happen?”

“M-my books,” you manage to get out between ragged breaths, and you watched as his eyes flickered towards the piles of paper by your bag. It looked as if you had tried to rescue them, only to become overwhelmed after you realised it was pointless. Sitting himself in front of you, legs crossed in front of him, a hand slowly reached out to carefully pluck a cover from the pile. Eyebrows furrowing as he clicked his tongue behind his teeth and shook his head as his eyes snapped back up yours.

“Someone destroyed a copy of The Silmarillion? Why princess, that’s sacrilege. Honestly, the firing squad need to be summoned at once for this heinous crime.” His dramatic flair as he spoke; the hand clutching fake pearls and the exaggerated exasperation made you let out a small giggle. His face warmed as he set his hands back in his lap, tilting his head with a soft smile.

“There it is,” he mused, making your eyebrows knit in confusion at his words.

“What?” was your dumb reply, already internally kicking yourself at how small and helpless you sounded.

“There’s that smile I look for in the cafeteria,” he answered with a soft voice, making your stomach flip pleasantly at the thought of him looking for you in a sea of people. You’d known of Eddie, of course you did. Had watched him launch himself up onto the table to parade around, yelling about whatever had him revved up that day. Had seen him rough-housing with his friends in the hallways, all smiles and earnest laughter. But you’d also seen the kinder side of him. Letting people pass when he was in the way, or holding doors open on instinct whenever someone was behind him. No matter how much people bullied him, he was still giving them common decency. And now you knew he knew who you were? You couldn’t stop the heavy blush dusting your cheeks.

As if sensing your slight embarrassment, he cleared his throat as he shifted on his place on the floor to get more comfortable. Both hands placed on the floor behind, him, leaning back as if giving you some space if you needed it. “Soooo… I happen to have a few copies of Tolkien kicking around my place. Wouldn’t mind lending them to you, until you get another. Totally your call, though. Won’t be offended if you tell me to get lost.”

Your heart warmed at the offer. You’d never spoken to him before, but he was clearly picking up on how upset you were, willing to go without if it made you happy. The kindness that you’d soon learn that filled him so much he was fit to burst with the intensity, especially when it came to the ones he loved and cared for. It made your smile so wide it made your cheeks hurt as you wiped your tears away with the back of your cardigan as you nodded.

“I’d like that.”

A love of books had bonded you both, and what begun as sneaking copies of what one thought the other would like when nobody was around turned into hanging out to talk about them. You’d tell your parents you were visiting a friend when you went out for the weekend, which was technically the truth. You would spend your free time in his messy bedroom, reading in comfortable silence or watching him play his guitar as you tried to focus on homework, something that fascinated you endlessly. The way his fingers would move over the fret board with an ease that came from a lot of practice, playing you songs that you thought you’d like. He was the one to introduce you to heavy metal, and you found that you actually really liked it. You’d had so many deep conversations when you were curled beside him on his bed, talking about how much you hated when Jason picked on you and others, or other worries that filled your mind. He was a good listener, and always seemed to know what to say to soothe you. His bedroom became your solace, somewhere that you would yearn for when you weren’t there.

In return, he shared the thoughts that you knew he never shared with anyone else, keeping them to himself and gnawing on his soul. How much he missed his Mom, or how the years of abuse at the hands of his father when he was drunk still made him carry both mental and physical scars. You soothed him when it became too much, a hand on his and rubbing soothing patterns onto the skin of the back of his hand as you listened to the heartache that poured from him. You wondered why he never asked you not to tell, but it eventually dawned on you that he trusted you. He trusted you to hold his heart, and to never crush it. And it made you feel honoured to do so.

It was there that you had your first kiss. You could still remember how you were both laughing at some silly joke as you lay side by side, and the way that your bodies were practically inches from each other when you rolled onto your side to face him. How his eyes darted down to your lips, his own parting as if he was silently asking for permission. Seemingly finding the want you had for him in your body language, and closing the distance to slot his lips between your own. He tasted like cigarettes and cherry flavoured gum, and it became a taste you so desperately needed every time you were with him. Needed the way that his hand would come up to cradle your jaw, the cool metal of his rings against your warm skin. He always kissed you like it would be the last; passionate, tender, loving. He was your first kiss, and you found yourself wanting him to be the only boy you kissed for the rest of your life.

Ever since the first, the kisses didn’t stop. He would come and find you, nodding his head towards a supply closet and ducking inside, knowing you would follow to be wrapped in his arms with his mouth peppering your lips, your cheeks, your jaw with soft kisses as he told you how beautiful you were. You were only dating for a few months, but it was the small things like that which had you smitten with each other. He would find you small gifts that made him think of you; a beanie baby of an otter, because you once noted how adorable you found them. A silver chain bracelet very similar to his, though daintier, that you wore with pride. His eyes would light up when would find him new books to read that were his favoured genre, finding them when you took trips to the second hand bookstore. Your handwriting on the first page, saying things like ‘I thought you’d like this one because of the lore on elves. Enjoy!’ with your name signed underneath and a small heart.

You didn’t know it, but Jason knew something was up with you. You’d been smiling more, and wasn’t bothered by his usual jabs to your confidence, and the fact of it enraged him. The suspicions were confirmed when he was snooping through your room when you were out of the house, finding a very familiar shirt buried in the bottom of your dresser drawer. Moth eaten and faded with time, the black cotton with WASP proudly emblazoned on the front made him see red as he clutched it tighter in his hand. He knew who the previous owner was, considering he was one of the only people he knew that listened to this sort of music. Not to mention the faint smell of weed still eminating from the fabric. What the fuck was Munson’s shirt doing in your room? Slowly, he put the clues together. The late nights coming home, the smell of cigarettes on your clothes and the near constant chipper demeanour for the past couple of months.

You were banging the freak. And he wasn’t going to have that.

A plan formed in his mind, coming to fruition on the Monday morning before class. One of the cheerleaders, Donna, had a knack for copying handwriting; she was the one that they would come to if they needed a fake sick note, or an excuse for not doing homework. Filling her and the rest of the cheerleaders in on the plan, they were all right on board to make his little sister and the Devil worshipper of Hawkins break up. “It’s for her own good,” they had nodded sagely as they all chipped in an insult to write down, as though they were fully in their right to meddle in people’s affairs. Chrissy seemed uncomfortable with it, though she didn’t say anything as she watched. Just hanging onto Jason’s varsity jacket sleeve, giving him a small frown that he chose to ignore. In his eyes, he was second ranking in the position of the other man of the house. The women in the household were expected to listen to him, just like they listened to his father. In his eyes, he was doing the right thing. Straight up threatening would only push you further into Munson’s arms. This way? This way, he could kill two birds with one stone. Destroy Munson, and get his little sister away from him. The freak would be doing all the hard work, and he could come out of this looking like the one in the right. It was perfect.

Eddie was late to school, yet again. He was really trying to get in on time, knowing that it would look bad on him. The rubber soles of his sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as he rounded the corner, coming to a harsh stop in front of his locker. “Shit, shit, c’mon baby work with me,” he quietly pleaded with the combination lock, fingers fumbling as he twisted the dial. A triumphant noise escaping his lips as it finally unlocked, making quick work of putting his backpack and lunch box into the locker as he picked up the Math and Chemistry books he needed. He almost missed the small folded piece of paper that fluttered on the floor, his name in a familiar handwriting with a small heart just underneath. A sight that he was always glad to see, knowing that this was something you did often. Picking it up and shoving it into his pocket, he booked it towards Math. Not really because he was excited to learn about whatever the fuck the teacher was on about. But because he would have time to read your little love note.

Ten minutes into the lesson, and he finally took his chance to retrieve the paper and gently fold it open. Seeing his name on the top made him swoon. But as his eyes scanned the words, the grip on the note tightened so much that his ringed knuckles turned white.

Eddie,

I know it isn’t April Fools yet, but surprise!! Got you real good there, didn’t I? Got you thinking this was real, didn’t you? God, you’re a loser. Should have seen your face when I said I loved you. All doe eyes and stupid grin. Who would ever love you? You’re a freak and a nobody. Trailer park trash, just like your no good Daddy. Wonder if you’re gonna share a cell when you eventually wind up in prison? Or will you OD on smack before then, just like Mommy? Maybe if you do some sort of pact with your Lord and Master Lucifer, they might bring them back for you? When you’re not too busy sucking his dick, of course.

I never want to see your pathetic, ugly face again. This is the last you’ll hear of me. So enjoy the memories of me fucking you while they last, perv. Hope this finally sends you over the edge and you finally do us all a fucking favour.

p.s. Get a fucking haircut, you look like like the ugliest chick alive.

Your name was signed on it, and it just made his heart shatter that much more, his whole world crashing down around him. His hands were shaking as he tried to control his breathing, trying to keep it from going as rapid as his body was trying to force him to do. Vision growing blurry as hot tears pricked at his eyes that he couldn’t stop from forming. He was stood up before he realised his own body was moving, barely hearing the teacher yell at him for leaving the class halfway through and Jeff’s voice asking “What the fuck, man?”

Now in the halls, he began sprinting. Letting his feet pound on the floor as a wretched sob burst from his chest, running towards the only place of solace that he had left. He’d thought that he’d got used to the bullying over the years. He’d got used to the punches and kicks; those could be patched up and bruises covered. Even the names stopped bothering him after a while, after he’d heard them enough times. Only one time had got him to this state, and that was when they had stolen a necklace that he had hung on the rearview mirror of his van. One of the last things he had that belonged to his mother- the one of very few items in the whole world that he cherished more than anything. And it was you who had got it back for him after you snuck into Jason’s room to get it, risking your own neck in the process. It was you who he had spoken about her to, about how much he missed her every damn day and still wished every night that she was still around. You had hugged him while he cried on her birthday last month, carding your fingers through his hair so tenderly and softly whispering that it was okay to cry, to just let it all out, that you were always going to be around to catch him when he felt like he was free falling.

He had trusted you, heart and soul. He loved you. And none of it was real.

…

“Hey, have you seen Eddie?”

You were confused to not find him at the head of the Hellfire table when you got to the cafeteria. You were used to him giving you a lopsided grin as you passed to make your way to sit with your friends, teasingly patting his lap in offering and knowing full well that you wanted nothing more than to indulge and finally join him. Coming up to the table was already a risk; the boys who sat there looking nervous as you approached. But you had to. Eddie had promised that he wouldn’t skip school because he was determined to graduate this year, and you knew full well that you would see him here if he nothing was wrong. Was he sick? Maybe his van broke down? Either way, your stomach lurched as you waited for an answer.

The boys shot looks you couldn’t quite decipher between them all, and it was a curly haired boy with a boyish smile that Eddie told you was named Dustin to finally answer. “Do you uh… Do you need him for anything?”

You knew why they were being apprehensive. With the last name of Carver, of course it was going set them on edge. No doubt your older brother was making their lives a misery, and they wondered if you were about to do the same.

You gave them a soft smile as you nodded. “Yeah, I um… I-I have one of his books that he gave me. Wanted to return it.” Technically the truth. His beloved copy of Lord of the Rings was safely tucked in your backpack.

“We can give it to him,” Dustin offered, still eyeing you with suspicion.

“Oh, thank you, but there’s no need,” you answered, keeping your tone light. “I actually need to talk to him about something, too.”

The one with the dark cropped hair and kind eyes seemed to give you some pity. “You know that’s his girlfriend, right?” he muttered to his friends, keeping his voice down in case they were overheard. All eyes snapped back to you, shoulders relaxing and small sheepish smiles when they finally put two and two together. Eddie had been talking non-stop about a girl he was dating, and it was actually Jeff who had sussed it out first. It wasn’t rocket science, considering he’d probably caught the way you two stared at each other every moment you got. You wondered why Eddie hadn’t told them your identity, but you also understood. If word got out that you two were dating, it’d mean untold consequences for the both of you. You knew he trusted his friends enough not to snitch you two out, but you guessed he was just being extra careful with it all.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, smiling fondly at being called ‘his girlfriend’ in public. His girlfriend. You were Eddie’s, and he was yours. And you loved how it sounded. “I was just wondering if he was okay? If he was actually in school today?”

“He burst out of Math about something,” Jeff explained, shrugging as he pushed food around his plate with the tines of his fork. “Seemed real pissed. You might find him out in the woods, past the football fields and keeping right on the path. He sometimes goes there to smoke on the old bench out there.”

You couldn’t stop your heart racing as you nodded, thanking them profusely as you turned heel and left towards the place Jeff had told you about. Eddie was mad at something? He seemed fine when you saw him yesterday. In fact, he seemed in a really good mood. He’d got his first C in English, and you celebrated by ordering in pizza and cuddling up to watch horror movies on his couch. It had made him laugh when you jumped at the sudden scares in the movie, a smug grin on his face when you cuddled into him and whined that it wasn’t funny. Kissing the top of your head as he soothed a hand over your back. “Don’t worry babe,” he’d cooed. “I’ll save you from all the nasty zombies.”

So the fact that he’d left a class that he was set on passing was making you worry even more. Had Jason done something to upset him again? If he had, that would be the last straw. Eddie was rubbing off on you, and not in a bad way. For your whole life, you had bowed to your older brother. If he said jump, you asked how high. But Eddie had gently reminded you that you were your own person, and you didn’t have to do anything that you didn’t want. And that included with him, too. Many times, you had talked about losing your virginity with him, and he had promised that you would finally take the next step in your relationship, as soon as you were sure you were ready. As soon as you were sure you wanted to lose it with him. And like the gentleman he was, he never went any further than some light over the clothes action when you’d practically begged him to, respecting your wishes to not go any further. And you loved him all the more for it.

He came into view as you entered the clearing, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the very familiar Dio patch on the back of him denim jacket. He was sat on the table of the bench, feet planted against the seat, facing away from you and his shoulders hunched over. You could see the lit cigarette in his hand as he leaned his weight on the arm beside him, clutched between index and middle finger that was tapping in quick succession on the rotten wood. It was a nervous habit that you’d picked up on a while ago. Though his hands were always in motion, you could tell by the pace what kind of mood he was in. Slow and languid meant he was calm or sleepy. Slightly more rapid, he was excited. If they moved in the shape of frets to his favourite songs, he was trying to focus on something to take his mind off whatever bothered him. But this near frantic energy meant he was really, really upset or angry. It set you on edge a little as you winced at the sight of it.

“Eds?” you called out, noticing how his whole form froze as he heard your voice calling the name only you called him. A soft, sharp sob escaping his chest, the sound causing cracks to form in your heart. You took careful steps towards him, rounding the bench as you came into his view. Eyes downcast, red and puffy from crying. Cheeks stained from tears, and bottom lip quivering as he gasped for breath. Your eyebrows furrowed as you softly cooed, holding out your arms as you stepped towards him. “Baby, what’s wro-”

“Don’t you fucking touch me.” His voice was cracked, the edges of the words sharp and laced with anger, making you stop dead in your tracks and freeze in place.

Your eyes widened as you took a sharp inhale of breath, confusion marring your features as you dropped your hands to your sides. “Eddie? What’s wrong?”

He laughed, though there was no trace of humour in them as he shook his head and poked his cheek with his tongue. Reaching into his jean pocket, a piece of paper was in his grasp for only a second, before it was flung towards your feet. “You still keeping up the charade, Carver? Wanna try and hurt me more?” The use of your last name made you cringe. He knew you hated when people called you that; you hated being called the same thing as your brother. To Eddie, you were babydoll, princess, babe, sweetheart or angel. Barely ever your name any more. Using your last name was a weapon to hurt you with. And you both knew it.

Reaching down to pick up the piece of paper, you unfolded it and skimmed it through. A strangled, horrified sound escaping your lips as you felt physically sick from the cruelty of the words. The handwriting was so familiar, yet slight differences that only you could notice. The inflections of the letter I, or the syntax slightly off. But an icy hot panic washed over you in an instant when you realised why it was so familiar. It was your handwriting. Well, nearly. But to him, blinded by rage and hurt, those differences didn’t matter. You tried desperately to find the words, to try and tell him that none of this was you, but all you could do was shake your head.

You heard him take a sharp inhale of breath, and when your eyes flickered up, you watched the smoke languidly flow from his mouth. He wasn’t crying now. Instead, there was a mask-like quality to his features. Devoid of all emotion, eyes hardened as he stared at you. And honestly? It hurt worse than seeing him upset. Knowing that underneath it all, he was fully blaming you for the trauma. “Going to drop the act now? Hm?” He flicked the filter of the cigarette in your direction, with more force than needed to break the embers away. “You’re embarrassing yourself with keeping it up.”

“Eddie, I didn’t write this,” you whispered, tone practically pleading as you gripped the note with shaking hands. “You’ve gotta believe me, I don’t-”

“I know your fuckin’ handwriting,” he interjected, spoken through gritted teeth. “Don’t play dumb.”

“No, please, I promise! I swear on everything I love!” Your voice was becoming more shrill as you flailed your arms around, wishing to God that the ground would swallow you up. This was it. You’d never know Eddie’s kisses again; never know the intimate moments on late afternoons when you were wrapped up in his arms, or listen to him sing along to whatever he played on his guitar with that devastatingly beautiful voice of his. It was all snatched away from you, and you hadn’t even done anything.

“That’s your problem,” he scoffed, pointing at you with the fingers that held his cigarette between them, jabbing them at you with fury. “You don’t love anything. You’re a fucking sociopath, Carver. Just like your brother.”

His vile words made your knees buckle, sending you careening to the dirt and leaves until you kneeled in front of him, the crumbled note in your hands that rested on your lap. Hot tears welled in your eyes as you dropped your head, a sob wracking through your chest as the accusation hit you. Causing all brain function to cease as you shook your head. Over the course of your relationship, you’d never said those three little words to him. Too scared of rocking the boat, of driving him away if you said them too soon. Didn’t want to be too clingy, or too desperate, fearful of never being good enough for him and living in fear that some day he would up and leave when he found a girl who would treat him right. Wouldn’t have a brother who was one of his biggest tormentors.

“That’s not true,” you finally managed to squeak out. “I… I love you, Eddie. I’m so sorry that I never said it before but-” Your words were interrupted with another whimpered hiccup, trying to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks with the sleeve of your cardigan before trying again. “If I could turn back the clock, I’d never stop saying it. Please, just believe me when I say that I didn’t do this.” You finally looked up at him, not noticing a slight confusion that furrowed his brow, too wrapped up in your own grief and agony. “I love you, Eddie. I love you more than anything.”

Everything seemed to stop for long, agonising moments. Only the sounds of your small sobs, and his hitched breath mingling with the distant sounds of birdsong. “You… You didn’t say it,” he finally murmured, harshly driving the embers of his cigarette against the table until it was extinguished and hopping off it to take a few steps towards you.

“Wh-what?” you whimpered, flinching as he took another step.

“The note, you… It said that you told me you loved me.” His words were rushed now, his hands coming up to run harshly through his curls, giving them a small tug as the penny well and truly dropped. “But you never did. And it said that we… That we slept together, but we haven’t.”

You scanned the note again, noticing what he was talking about. The stuff about his parents was knowledge that was easy to come by if you asked the right people, considering the rumour mill in this small town was always working full time. Devil worshipping, living in a trailer park and cheap shots at his appearance? That had been flung at him since middle school. But he was right. In his haze of anger and hurt, he must have forgotten that some of the content just didn’t add up. But who would do this? Who had this much malice and scorn, that they would try and split you up like this?

The name seemed to come into both your minds at the same second, knocking against your skulls with the force of it. A person that hated his guts, and wouldn’t care if you got hurt in the process. In fact, they might see it as some sort of punishment. A consequence for your actions, that would would be criminal if they had their way.

A long few moments of silence filled the clearing, both of you trying to wrap their heads around the consequences of this encounter. Would you be able to come back from this? Would Eddie be able to forgive himself for the harsh words spat like hellfire, because of his own wounded heart? Would you be able to forgive him? Was this the end of everything, before it even had the chance to fully begin? You had fallen so hard for him, and now you felt like you were freefalling, and the anxieties that came with that feeling made your gut clench and palms sweat.

You were the first to speak. A small “oh my God,” barely audible, burying your face in your hands to try and hide away from the embarrassment and pain. Of course your brother would be the culprit behind this. And behind the agony, sparks of fury threatened to set ablaze the kindling of memories, of all the times he had made you feel less than a person. Hiding your dress hours before the Winter Formal, not caring how much you cried when you realised you weren’t going to be able to go. Breaking countless cassettes because he didn’t approve of them. Driving away potential friends because he ‘didn’t approve’. All with the knowledge that your parents saw it all, and didn’t do a thing to stop it. Jason was the golden child. The star basketball player, the popular one, the one who could never do something wrong. You knew that, all you life, you knew. But now, being with Eddie, a person that thought you hung the moon and saw you, really saw you, and loved you with such a warm intensity that it seeped through every fibre of you being? You weren’t ready to give that up. Not for anything.

You heard movement from in front of you; a heavy thump as you opened your eyes to find him kneeling in front of you, knees framing the outsides of your own. His dark eyes so filled with regret and shame, that it hurt to look at. His shaky hands came towards you, yet stopped when he realised that maybe you didn’t want him to touch you. Perhaps thinking that maybe you just… Couldn’t forgive him. “Baby, I-I’m so sorry… Please, can we talk-”

It was instinct that drove you to launch yourself at him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck and burying your face into the crook of his neck, nearly knocking him off balance. You felt him coil his arms around you in return, a hand on the back of your neck and his forearm against the small of your back, pressing you close to his chest. “I-It wasn’t me,” you mumbled, muffled by his skin and hoping he could hear you because of it. “J-Jason…”

“Ssh, it’s okay,” he softly cooed, the hand resting at your waist gently rubbing at the skin there to soothe you. “I know. I know it wasn’t you, okay? A-and I’m so sorry for what I said. I was so wrong, and I was an asshole, and it’s okay if you don’t forgive me because it was such an awful thing to say, a-and…”

You knew that he rambled whenever he was upset, and though the sorrow was still there, a fondness seeped through you at the reminder of his little habits. A warmth in the knowledge that this was fixable, and that you had the luxury of time in the relationship to fix the heartache that this had caused. “You don’t need to apologise,” you said softly, head raising to meet his own, forehead pressed against his. “You were hurt, and I understand. It was such an awful thing they did to you, Eddie. I just wish I could say sorry on my brother’s behalf.”

“You don’t need to do that,” he frowned. “Please don’t ever apologise for other people’s actions. Especially not your dickhead of a brother.” The jab at Jason made you abruptly smile at the sentiment, and he mirrored it as he shifted his legs to pull you to sit in his lap. “Because I was wrong. Carver is your last name, but you’re nothin’ like him, sweetheart. You’re kind, and funny, and so smart. Beautiful, too.”

The compliments made your cheeks warm as you let out a small giggle, shaking your head a fraction as you bit your bottom lip. “Stop…” The whine was small, and playful. God, you never wanted him to stop loving you with his words. Not really.

As if he knew, he rose to the challenge, capturing your lips in his own with a soft and brief kiss. “Pretty,” he whispered against your lips, adding another kiss. “Talented.” Another kiss, though to the side of your mouth. “Brave.” One at you jaw. “Thoughtful.” The word pressed into your neck, and you could feel him smile against the skin there. “You wan’ me to keep going, or are you gonna give in and let me adore you?”

“I give in,” you squealed, hurt temporarily forgotten at the tender affection that he gave. Happy to share a few moments in his embrace, enjoying the warmth and tenderness that you would never grow tired of. You allowed the silence to settle for only a few heartbeats, before you finally broke it. “I meant it, you know.”

He came into view again, a small smile on his lips as his eyebrows slightly furrowed in questioning. “Meant what, angel?”

“That I love you.” The words came easier now; now that they could come from the heart, each syllable laced with loving intent. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, but… I mean it. I’ve fallen in love with you, Eddie Munson.”

The grin that overtook his face was an incredible sight. His eyes crinkling with the ferocity of it, happiness seeping from every pore. “I love you too, sweetheart. So fuckin’ much.”

The lunch bell must have rung out a long time ago, and you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. Not when you were kissing him like this, and he was returning them with a matching earnestness. You kissed until your lips were slightly bruised, barely coming up for air before coming back for more. So in love, your heart so full that it was a near ache. You only stopped when you felt the soft patters of rain on the crown of your head, looking up to find the skies a deep grey, threatening to let the heavens open. He helped you up onto wobbly legs, his arm around you as you made your way back to the school for shelter.

You noticed his apprehension as you got closer, and you knew exactly why. He was worried that if Jason saw you together, he would make both your lives hell. But with this little stunt your brother tired to pull, that kindling of rebellion had been well and truly set alight. You no longer wanted Jason to make decisions for you. Eddie Munson was the love of your life. And you didn’t give a single fuck who knew it. Placing your hand on his where it rested on your shoulder, you looked up at him with a smile. A silent plea to keep it there, and one he seemed to acknowledge as he pulled you closer.

“Can I come over tonight, after school?” you asked him, voice hopeful as you bit your lip.

“’Course you can,” he answered with a grin. “Was thinking about taking you for a milkshake at that diner you like, actually. Could drop by there before we get to mine, if you want?”

It was an invitation to go public, and you knew that. A lot of the teenagers at your school went to that diner, and it wouldn’t be long before word got back to your brother about your involvement with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about that. Hope filled you as you tilted your head. “Like a date?”

“Like a date,” he echoed, pecking a kiss to your temple. “Never took you out on one before, and that’s kind of a shitty boyfriend move. How ‘bout it, sweetheart? Wanna finally have that first date I owe you?”

A grin spread over your features as the school finally came into view. You were about to walk the halls of Hawkins high, your boyfriend finally by your side and his arm over your shoulders, just like you finally wanted. Screw what anyone else wanted.

“I’d like that.”

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction

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ghost-1-y · 8 months

Text

Temptation

Angel!Mitsuri x AFAB!Succubus!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, dark content, sacrilege, blasphemy, religious themes, dubcon (aphrodisiac), manipulation, sexual content, dom!reader, sub!Mitsuri, unprotected sex, oral (reader receiving), scissoring, virginity loss (Mitsuri), corruption k!nk, praise k!nk, degradation, hair pulling, concepts of "purification" and "chastity", concepts of sex and sexuality being "dirty" and "sinful", slight mentions of blood (not in a sexual context), use of bible verses (in italics), references to bible passages/stories, people who are religious may find this content offensive, please read with caution

Summary: Mitsuri had always done what she was told to do, glorifying her god and helping those who needed it. She never once thought about breaking the rules – much less her vow to chastity, until she found what initially appeared to be a human in a darkened alleyway in need of help, unknowingly falling into a trap that would corrupt her from holiness for the rest of eternity.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Divider Credit: the wonderful @/benkeibear

A/N: so, I used to be religious (Christian), so a lot of this might've come out of my own personal traumas that I experienced (eg. the concept of purification and chastity and being ashamed of having "dirty" thoughts). Obviously, I no longer hold these views (as evidence by writing these fics LMAO), but that somewhat influenced how I wrote this fic, maybe some of y'all will be able to relate? I hope you enjoy!!

Let your light shine before them in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.

Mitsuri loved the world, she loved humans and nature and all the beauty that existed in between. She would watch the sun rise upon the earth and how it would cast its rays upon trees and cities as life basked in its holy light.

She loved the night as well – how it brought tranquility and peace as those she watched over rested until the sun peeked over the horizon once more.

She sometimes wished that her light would not interfere with such serenity.

But the world also saddened Mitsuri, she mourned as those she loved from afar returned to dust underneath grassy knolls; her heart broke as she witnessed fighting amongst nations and arguments amongst lovers. She knew that loving the world would bring grief upon her, because the world was infested with sin.

The world would never be perfect, yet she loved it anyways.

So Mitsuri spent her eternity by helping those who needed it – taking on a human form so others wouldn’t be afraid. She helped by working in food banks and soup kitchens – oh how she adored those humans who set such wonderful services up – and would afterwards walk along roads to give food to those who, for whatever reason, found such services inaccessible to them. She would volunteer in hospitals, helping the sick in whatever way she could, and would listen to their stories and offer comfort should they share their suffering with her, holding their hand in hers to offer support – however small.

It was not a coincidence, then, that she caught sight of you, a human lying alone in a darkened alleyway, isolated from the bustling street that was doused in sunlight. You were covered in shadows to the point where it looked like darkness emanated from your body itself, curled up and alone – hiding within the stench of garbage and discarded roadkill.

Mitsuri approached you – her kindness limitless and unbounded by fear as her light blessed your shadowed figure, gentle and warm – a light that was neither blinding nor dim as you looked up at her.

“Are you alright, my love? My name is Mitsuri, I saw you here and wanted to help,” she smiled sweetly. It didn’t matter what language you spoke, since Mitsuri’s words would translate perfectly once they fell from her lips and graced your ears.

Burning lips and a wicked heart are like a potsherd covered with silver dross.

Teary eyed, you smiled up at her, “Thank you, I didn’t think anyone would come, but you’re here now.” Mitsuri’s gentle eyes looked over your condition, a cut on your forehead which was seeping a dark red, and smudges of dirt all over your body.

“Oh, love, let me get you cleaned up a bit!” Mitsuri exclaimed as she secretly materialized some cotton pads, pretending to fish them out of her pocket. She wiped the blood that was dripping down your face, “I don’t have antiseptic wipes on me, would you wait here as I go get them from a convenience store?” You nodded, staring past her shoulder.

If Mitsuri knew any better, she would’ve thought you could see her wings.

Mitsuri rushed across the street and bought the antiseptic wipes, more cotton pads, and a couple bottles of water before running back to help you. She knelt beside you, and began cleaning up your face. “You know, you should take better care of yourself,” she smiled softly as she wet the cotton pads with water and began wiping away the smudges of dirt on your skin.

You said nothing, letting Mitsuri work on you. Once finished, she stood up and held out her hand, “Are you able to stand?” she asked.

You looked down at her hand and reached for it, slowly encasing it in yours, with your index finger pressing against the pulse in her wrist. A strange flush of warmth spread through Mitsuri’s arm and to her chest, causing a shiver to move up her spine. She shook her head, and helped you get up.

The warmth continued to spread and fester within her, and she couldn’t figure out why – you were human, or at least looked like you were.

You gave her a saccharine smile, “I appreciate your help, angel, but I have to get going – I’ll see you around, no?”

Mitsuri’s eyes widened at the pet name you let slip – you couldn’t possibly know what she was – it was a coincidence, that’s all.

She who trusts in her own heart is a fool,

But she who walks wisely will be delivered.

Still, it caught her off-guard, and if she wasn’t flustered before, she definitely was now, slightly panicking despite knowing that humans wouldn’t be able to see her wings, or halo for that matter.

Mitsuri stuttered, “Of course, I– see you around.”

Days passed, and Mitsuri started to believe you’d fallen off the face of the earth – completely unable to sense your presence or soul. Yet, the warmth she felt from holding your hand did not fade – rather, it worsened, beckoning her to drag her dainty fingers along her stomach and downwards.

She shook herself out of it, but the heat lingered and pooled between her legs, so much so that it started to drip down her inner thighs – yet she wouldn’t give in to the temptation, she couldn’t – it was against everything that she was taught, everything that she believed.

Or were the beliefs forced upon her?

It wasn’t until after forty days and forty nights that she sensed you once more. It was early morning, so early that the sun had not graced its rays upon the world quite yet. You sat underneath a lamppost, its artificial light illuminating the bench beneath you, but oddly failing to reflect off of your own soft skin.

“You’re not human, are you?”

You looked up at her, a glint of mischief in your eyes as you shook your head. Standing up, you walked towards her, causing Mitsuri to take a hesitant step back.

“Don’t be shy, angel, I don’t bite – not unless you beg for it.”

“I– I’m not begging,” Mitsuri muttered, as though she were trying to convince herself more than anything.

Submit therefore to God. Resist the devil and she will flee from you.

You approached her once more, and she remained still. Taking her wrist in yours, you slowly graze your nails over the skin of her arm, tracing up and down as she spoke. Her cheeks were red, flushed hot with both the strange warmth that found its home within her soul and now the shame of actually seeking what she desired.

You both sat down on the bench, a shrub blooming with jasmine flowers alongside it – the rich scent flooding her senses as her eyes locked with yours.

Do not desire her beauty in your heart,

Nor let her capture you with her eyelids.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you asked, fingers circling the pulse point on her wrist.

Mitsuri frowns, “What do you mean?” You take your other hand and place it on hers, tracing your thumb across her skin, sending butterflies into her stomach.

“I mean,” you started, “do you get tired of kindness? Of righteousness?” you questioned, “do you ever wish to know beyond those things?”

“Um…I–” she paused, swallowing thickly, “N-Not really?”

It was a lie, and you knew that.

“Oh, well that’s too bad,” you pouted before leaning in towards her, “because I could show you things you’ve never even felt before, angel.” You glanced up at her, and you could see her eyes pooling with the desire to accept.

“I– I really can’t, it would– it would be against my nature.” An excuse, but a truthful one. If she consented, she would be damning herself – condemning her soul to the farthest reaches of hell.

It was something unthinkable for a being like her.

“Hmm, but nature changes over time, does it not?” you questioned, “if I’m not mistaken, I can see the want in your eyes. You desire this change, yet you won’t grasp for it. Why?”

“You– you wouldn’t be able to understand,” she stuttered, retracting her hands from yours as she formed fists with them in her lap.

“Angel, I think I understand more than anyone else,” you smirked, "to me, you seem lost – you're falling, aren't you, angel?"

You got up from the bench, eyes flashing a brief red as you looked down at her – causing Mitsuri’s breath to catch in her throat.

For the lips of an adulteress drip honey

And smoother than oil is her speech;

But in the end she is bitter as wormwood,

Sharp as a two-edged sword.

Her feet go down to death,

Her steps take hold in the house of it.

“If you wish for more than the mundanity of your everlasting life, you know exactly how to find me,” you told her, and before Mitsuri could look up at you once more, you were gone.

—

Mitsuri knew that it was wrong, she knew that it would go against her vows, her duties, her entire purpose, and yet – she found herself walking past that same alleyway each day, only peering into it out of curiosity before collecting herself and continuing on her way.

Until the seventh day, when she decided to stop in front of the alley, the sun beaming down on her as she stood just outside of it, as though the lined buildings on either side created a threshold that she couldn’t bring herself to pass.

As Mitsuri peered into the shadows, she saw a figure stand up and walk towards her. She couldn’t look into the being’s soul – it was as though it didn’t have one at all. It approached her from the dark, and its silhouette depicted that of sharpened horns and a long tail which was pointed at the end.

“Have you made up your mind, angel?” you asked sweetly, extending your hand past the threshold for her to take, “I promise, you’ll love how it feels to let go.”

Mitsuri hesitated, but as she looked into your eyes, a fire ignited deep within her once more.

My child, if sinners entice you,

Do not consent.

It was all she needed to extend her own hand and place it in yours.

Shocks of electricity traveled up Mitsuri’s arm, much more intense than the warmth she felt before, it traveled deep into her gut, and her face flushed red as she was pulled into the shadows, fully enticed by you.

You pinned her against the wall, her back facing you. Her wings shuddered in excitement as you leaned in towards her ear, “I’m proud of you, angel,” you whispered, your breath hot against her ear, “I know how difficult it must’ve been to give in, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” You grazed a finger along her left wing, nail lightly scraping against the feathers. She whimpered, her blush hot across her face as heat pooled in her stomach.

“I– I know you’re a–ah…” Mitsuri started, swallowing thickly before a soft moan escaped from her.

“A demon? Yes, angel, I am,” you chuckled, grabbing at her hair to pull her head back, “but I’m not here to hurt you, love, no, I’m here to make you sin.”

You turned her around and kissed her fervently, your lips sweet against hers. It felt euphoric, Mitsuri had never been kissed by anyone before – it was always said to open the doors to lust.

Then when lust has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and when sin is accomplished, it brings forth death.

However, she melted into your kiss, malleable and pliable – eager to feel more of it, the fire inside her being nurtured and stoked as you continued to kiss her innocent lips. You licked at her, and bit down on her bottom lip before parting – a string of saliva connecting her lips to yours, binding her into damnation as she uttered her next words.

“Please, I need more.”

You smirked, and leaned in towards her neck, licking a long stripe with your tongue before kissing just below her earlobe, with Mitsuri letting out tiny mewls and gasps every so often. You traveled further down her neck towards her pulse point. You left marks deep in burgundy upon her as she moaned into your ear.

“I love the sounds you’re making, angel, make some more for me,” you purred, bringing your hand down towards her heat, pushing aside the white linen to rub your fingers along her entrance. “Oh, you’re so wet for me,” you cooed.

“Nngh, n-noo that- that’s dirty,” Mitsuri whined, and you smirked.

“Trust me, you’ll learn to love feeling this way.” Your breath was hot before putting her into yet another searing kiss. She whimpered, but kissed back, slowly accepting her growing addiction towards them.

You circled her clit with your finger, and she whined, face flushed as she tried grinding onto your hand.

“That’s it, angel, take what you need, such a good girl,” you encouraged her, rubbing her clit slightly faster as she ground into you, a blushing mess as she did so. Mitsuri’s moans got progressively louder, loving the sensations once unknown to her.

“Mmh–! I– I feel strange…like something’s building up in me!” she whined, “what– what’s happening–!?”

You kissed her once more, quieting her, “shhh, angel, that’s a good thing, just relax and let it build up, okay?” She moaned again, grinding harder into your hand as she obeyed your words.

“I– It’s gonna–! I’m gonna–!” Mitsuri’s eyes rolled back, letting out a strangled moan as she came all over your hand, juices gushing into your palm as she rode through her orgasm, her hips undulating until she couldn’t take it anymore – quickly becoming overstimulated from the feeling of pleasure coursing through her veins.

“Too– too much! Can’t– no more!” she cried, tears falling down her cheeks. You licked at each stray teardrop, the saltiness of it coating your tongue as you stopped your movements with your hand.

“Such a good girl for me, angel,” you praised, and she hid her face behind her hands in pure embarrassment. You took her by the wrists and held them down.

“Don’t hide your pretty face from me, I want to see every last bit of your pleasure.”

Mitsuri whined and asked “can you– can you do that again, please?” Her tone was so sweet, begging for more like a pathetic slut who has abandoned all of her morals.

However, you refused, “if you wish for more of that, you’ll have to please me, first.” Mitsuri looked at you, confused, before you shoved her down to her knees, her face in line with your hips – the pretty lingerie you were wearing disappearing in an instant before you took her by the hair and pulled her towards your weeping cunt. “Make me feel good, angel, and I might consider actually fucking you this time.”

Mitsuri’s eyes dropped from your face down to your pussy, admiring how sweet and juicy it looked.

When the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, she took from its fruit and ate.

So, she went entirely off of her own instinct as she brought her mouth to your heat, before licking at the wetness of it with her tongue. The sweetness of it coating the inside of her mouth like syrup; Mitsuri had never even thought of committing such lewd acts before, but now that she’d gotten a taste, she couldn’t help herself.

She started off shy, with kitten licks and tentative kisses on your clit. She may not have experience in giving pleasure, but she was there in the beginning when humans, angels, and devils alike were all created in the same image, and so she knew the insides and outs of their bodies unlike any other.

Her tongue delved deeper into your cunt, licking up any juices that seeped out of it, earning soft groans and grunts from you as you pulled at her hair. She adored your taste – it was addictive, a taste that she would gladly sin for if it meant she could feast upon it for the eternity of her damnation.

Her lips pursed around your clit before sucking gently, your eyes rolling back as she looked up at you. She whimpered, wishing you’d make eye contact with her and tell her she was doing such a good job – instead only receiving a few strokes through her hair as you thrived off of the pleasure that her mouth was giving you. Her own cunt was weeping, the heat from her abdomen becoming unbearable as she continued licking you up with her tongue – so much so that she reached down between her legs with her fingers, but before she could provide herself even the slightest bit of relief, you yanked her by the hair.

“You think you can touch yourself without my permission? Think you’re allowed to make yourself feel good? No, angel. Only I am allowed to do that. Any and all pleasure you receive, any and all sin that you commit, will be caused by me – for my sake.” You leaned down closer to her, breath hot against her face, “do you understand me?”

Mitsuri nodded, only to wince as you gripped her hair tighter.

“Say it.”

“Yes, I– I understand,” Mitsuri spoke softly as she removed her hand from between her thighs.

“Good girl.”

You pulled Mitsuri up once more and, in an incredible display of flexibility, she raised her right leg so that it pointed up toward the sky, with you supporting her by holding her up by your hand.

“Hah– you’re no angel, are you? Angels don’t act this way, y’know– you’re just a pathetic little slut, a pleasure-seeking whore that can never get enough,” you panted, before mounting your foot against the wall so your cunt was flush against hers, grinding against her wet heat. You grabbed her by the jaw and forced her to look at you.

“What are you, hm? Tell me.”

“I– I–” she whined, “I’m– ‘m your slut…oh shit, ‘m your slut!”

“That’s right, you’re nothing but a stupid cumslut, aren’t you? Raised to be holy and perfect, but look at you, drunk on lust all because some demon tempted you. How pathetic.”

Mitsuri whined as you ground into her, feeling absolutely no shame as she condemned herself further with each movement of your hips. The familiar tension in her gut started to build up once more as she took everything you gave her.

“Nngh– it- it’s happening a-ah– again!” she moaned, and you ground against her faster.

“That’s it, slut, cum all over my cunt. Sin for me.”

Mitsuri’s thighs trembled as her orgasm flooded through her in waves, her mind addled with euphoria and lust as her pussy gushed all over you, her moans so raw and unbridled as she allowed you to claim her as yours, knowing she will never find pleasure like this through anything or anyone except you.

You are my God, and I give thanks to You;

You are my God, I extol You.

“My– my God,” she panted, “you– you are my God.” She knew it was blasphemous, yet she didn’t care, for she found a new being to worship, to love and to praise as she damned herself for the rest of eternity, certain that she would choose this over holiness in every lifetime if given the honor to do so.

For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever.

Amen.

Taglist: @oreo-creampie, @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @pastelbluecloudy3, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @bisexuawolfsalt, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701

(If your name was crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you - apologies for the inconvenience)

I hope you all enjoyed!!! 💕

296 notes · View notes

ncteez · 2 years

Text

Sacrilege (m.l)

the one where no gods exist when you’re alone with Mark Lee.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it.

wordcount― 5.3k

pairing― mark lee x fem reader

content― top/dom mark lee, characters are in their twenties, sub/bratty reader,

warnings― DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE RELIGIOUS OR CAN NOT HANDLE CNC. i am not responsible for your experience with reading on tumblr. I am not holding this fic in front of your eyes and forcing you to read it. I have tagged everything appropriately and suggest you scroll past this fic to save yourself from triggers or adverse reactions. This fic contains extreme disrespect to christianity and catholicism, desecration of religious symbols, and mild cnc.

note― Probably not the greatest smut ever to be written considering i did almost 0 research on these religions, but it's dirty and disgusting. if the thought of a lacquered wooden cross being penetrated into someone sounds painful, that's ok. It probably is but this is fiction and she’s gonna love every second of it, okay? Okay. Huge, fat, wet, squelching love to @domjaehyun for reading this for me and fixing all of my errors.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― mild cnc (reader is unsure about the cross thing but mark is relentless), for the record, the cross is not raw wood and has a smooth finish, reader is first attempting to seduce the priest through confession lmao, she’s also just a massive whore just like me :), Mark is the priest’s son, jerking off, penetration using a wooden cross, unprotected sex, spitting, choking on and/or sucking off a cross, degradation, and name-calling, he’s a godfearing man but also he likes sexual perversions, humiliation, explicitly getting fucked in a church, kind of fingering?

Mark wonders why you’re always making confessions, sometimes multiple times a week regardless of if his father is prepared or available to listen.

Once a week his father listens to confessions from the other churchgoers, even Mark himself is expected to do this. Often he will make up sins that he has committed just to seem as though he had been learning from some sort of mistake. Never would Mark actually tell his father through a confession booth what he has done or is willing to do. He’s an adult, he can confess whatever he wants. You, on the other hand, you’re working his father to the bone in terms of forgiveness.

Mark’s interest piques at the very idea of a young woman, around his age, needing to confess so much. Did she hurt someone? Does she hurt herself? Did she kill someone or maybe she is caught up in a situation that makes her commit atrocities? He can’t even imagine what one person could be doing to elicit such a need to be cleansed and saved time and time again.

Mark makes his way to the back of the church to complete his duties and, of course, he isn’t surprised to see you enter the confession booth for the second time this week. Hushed whispers were echoing through the room and only then did he realize that you almost always confessed when the church is empty. You must not be unaware of his presence at all, unaware that he is the son of the priest that you spill your sins to, and unaware that he can absolutely hear you when he walks closer.

He isn’t entirely sure why he is listening. The walls of this church echo any and every sound, and to be fair, the only reason his interest is piqued is that his father was silent from the moment you’d entered the booth. All he heard was you. You didn’t seem to start the confession off in a proper manner, so yeah, maybe it caught him off guard.

His ears make attempts to adjust to the words coming from the booth, but the words were coming out in a tone that he had never used himself when seeking salvation. Minutes passed and he still hadn't heard his father speak a word. It was just you, addressing dreams, vision, wants, and needs.

You weren’t confessing, you were actively sinning in the presence of god, attempting to seduce his father.

“I woke up shaking, Father. What should I do?”

Mark notes how quiet his father is still, despite you asking him what to do about the dream. His face sours when you continue to speak, this time in a slightly louder tone.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? I just can’t help myself sometimes, I–”

It’s not that it was intentional, really, it wasn't. If anything at all, Mark is incredibly disgusted by your attempts to dirty talk during a confession. Disgusted that you’d do such a thing, and…maybe intrigued by what you may have said that he wasn’t quite able to catch before. He quietly moves to the other side of the booth, the side where you seem to be spouting off all sorts of things, and he raises his head to listen a bit more.

“You were big, you know? I can’t get thoughts of you out of my head. Have you ever touched a woman, Father?”

Mark leans in further, his body reacting more than his disgust. Unfortunately, the hard-on growing in his pants ceases the moment his father cut you off.

“Enough.” The priest says in a stoic and harsh tone.

Not another word was spoken and Mark does his best to back away quickly and quietly as you exit the booth. Of course, he’s acting as though he is sweeping a corner when he turns to look at you. Eye contact is made and he can feel an intense rush of heat spread across his cheeks.

His father stays inside of the booth for a long, drawn out, three or so minutes before exiting and all Mark can think about is if you walked out of the church soaked and warm between your legs. It’s not even that Mark is into sinning. He isn’t. His entire life was built around this church, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a man. He has needs just like you do, apparently.

Never would he get what he needs from a woman as dirty as yourself, though, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about it and how your voice sounded when you were actively trying to fuck his dad.

“You’re disgusting.” Mark narrows his eyes at you when you pass by, spitting the words at you as if you were a piece of trash on the sidewalk.

“Excuse me?” You ask, stopping in your tracks and looking back at him just as harshly.

“You think I can’t hear the way you speak to my dad during your confessions?” He takes a step forward as he whisper shouts at you. “You really think he’s just going to take you up on the offer?”

Narrowing your own eyes, you step closer to Mark to stop anyone else from hearing his little tantrum. “Wanna tell me why he always listens to my confessions then?” You question, smirking before walking away as if nothing had even happened.

Mark watches as you leave, upset that he hadn’t gotten a rise out of you at all, and instead was offered a genuine question that sits in his mind. Why does his father allow you to make a confession after confession if all it is, is an attempt to seduce him? You weren’t even ashamed of it, it seems, and it pisses him off to no end.

Rushing after you, he is quick to grab at your sweater and pull you back.

“You might as well not even wear clothes at this point with the way you act.” He barks, dragging you off down the hall and into a side room that should remain empty until everyone leaves the church. He intends to put a stop to this, because he’s heard several more of your confessions by his own will and learns that, apparently, your only sin is being a harlot.

“You have no place here.” He adds as he closes the door behind the two of you.

“Your father says otherwise.” You laugh, walking across the room with a shrug. It’s not the first time you’ve been reprimanded in a church, and it probably won’t be the last. “What? You don’t find yourself thinking of dirty things from time to time?”

Mark narrows his eyes even more at you.

“Of course I do, but not this often, and not directly after a service.”

You watch him walk towards you, with his perfectly tucked shirt and his darkened and angry eyes. Being alone with him doesn’t help his argument, because, in all fairness, he’s just as hot, if not hotter than your priest.

“What about you then?” You ask, leaning against one of the shelves in the room, running your hand up your legs, and hiking your dress up a couple of inches. “Father won’t admit to having ever touched a woman. What about you?”

Mark grimaces, wrinkling his nose as he watches you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He questions, stomping over to you and pushing your dress back down below your knees.

“Oh!” You laugh, ticking your tongue at him and tilting your head. “You cursed. Aren’t you going to ask for forgiveness?”

He stares at you for a few seconds, being face to face with a woman that seems so desperate for any touch has his heart racing. He’s trying to call you out, not turn you on.

“Can’t you act decent? I barely know you and you’re flaunting yourself at me.” Mark bellowed, stepping back from you and examining the way your body is relaxed. You seem to be enjoying this.

“You’re the one who pulled me in here. Was it really to argue with me, or were you trying to get to me before Father does?”

Thinking for a moment, Mark realizes he’s the reason this is happening. He could have just let you leave like everyone else, after all, it would be the first day you weren’t heading for the confession booth. Here he is though, and there you are.

“He would never.” Mark laughs, mocking your attempts to seduce his father.

“What about you though?” You shoot back instantaneously, watching the way his words get caught in his throat.

He’s a weak man, truly, because the very thought of what’s under your dress, the very idea that you’re so willing, fogs his brain to the point of almost malfunctioning. It would be so fucking easy if he wanted to. No one would even know.

Before you even knew it, you could feel the air in the room change as he storms closer to you, he aggressively pulls your dress up to your waist and instantly he’s shoving his hand straight between your legs. A small yelp leaves your throat followed by a laugh.

“I knew it.” You laugh bumping your head a bit against the shelf at the force of his movements. You can feel the way his palm cups your core and presses harshly against it. “I knew you were just as dirty as me.”

“Stop,” Mark demands, bringing his other hand to cover your mouth. “Stop talking.” He continues, already pulling his hand from your core and second-guessing himself. “If we are going to do this, I need you to shut up.”

You nod with a smile against his palm, breathing in when he pulls it back and trusts your ability to stay quiet. He’s staring directly into your eyes as if it’s a threat that he will stop, a promise that he will get his father to blacklist you from the church and never allow such a sinner to step foot inside again.

Staying true to your word, you remain quiet as he trails his eyes down. He looks at you as if you’re some sort of monster, and for him at this moment, you definitely could be.

Lowering himself to the floor, he positions himself to look at your clothed core, seeing the small wet stain seeping through the fabric.

“Already?” He laughs, eyes darting up to your face.

You nod, wiggling your hips at him in an attempt to entice his lips to attach there. But he doesn’t. He just stands back to his feet and backs away.

“I bet if I left you here, you’d chase after me.” He mocks. “I bet you think I’m going to give you my cock, don’t you?”

Shyly, you smile with a nod. Isn’t that what’s going to happen? Isn’t that what this is all about?

“Wow, you really are stupid.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head at you as he reaches behind a podium and pulls out a large, lacquered wooden cross.

Great, you think. He’s definitely about to start preaching to you. Maybe he will even attempt to perform an exorcism to expel the horny demons out of you.

“Please.” You roll your eyes, standing yourself up straight from against the shelf and patting your dress back down into position. “I don’t need you to try and bring me to salvation.” You’re already preparing to walk out without looking twice at him, but he laughs right back at you.

“You think you know everything.” He argues, walking towards the door and locking it. He stands in front of it now, crossing his arms and staring at you.

“What’s the cross for then?” You ask, a little nervous now.

“Did I not just imply that I wouldn’t use my cock on you?” He questions, twitching in his pants at the way you stand before him, much smaller in energy now.

Oh. Oh.

“You’re going to–” You swallow hard, realizing that the sins being committed aren’t just from you. They’re also not ignored by just you. This room doesn’t even feel like part of a church now as he holds the cross with more reason than praying.

“I am.” He assures you. “Do you want that?”

For some reason, despite genuinely worrying for your soul at the very idea, you nod quickly as the temperature of your body rises to dangerous levels.

“Get on the desk then.”

You follow suit, shamefully walking to the desk and propping yourself onto it.

“Take off your clothes.” He demands again, watching you intently as he stays in place.

You watch him back as you begin to slip your dress from your shoulders and lift your ass so that you can push it down and onto the floor.

“You’re acting so shy now. What’s up with that?” He mocks, walking towards you as you attempt to tug at your panties. “Keep those on. No one wants to see that.” He says, chuckling at the way you didn’t even have the decency to wear a bra to service. Lucky for him, your breasts are enough to drive him past the point of return.

You stay quiet, doing as he’s told and watching the way he examines you. He must feel so in control right now, and you’re happy to let him, but you can see him falling apart behind his eyes. His cock is incredibly obvious beneath his nice dress pants, but you wouldn’t dare reach out to touch him, not yet at least.

“Suck it.” He says, dragging the cross against your nipples and onto your chin.

You almost shake your head at him. Wouldn’t such a hard material such as wood hurt? Will it bruise your throat? Doesn’t seem to be a worry of his in all honesty, because he’s intent on pressing it against your lips.

Not quite opening your mouth, you look at him with wide eyes.

“No?” He smiles, hooking your mouth and prying it mouth open.

You relent this time, feeling the cold and smooth tip of the cross enter past your lips. It’s not that you are against doing it, you just. . . haven’t done it before. You’re not exactly sure of how to respect a holy relic such as this one when you’re expected to choke on it.

“That’s it.” Mark coos, pressing the cross further into your mouth. “Just like that.”

You close your eyes at his voice, licking the smoothed object with an intensity you didn’t know you had. After all, it’s been so long since you’ve been intimate with a person, hence the constant wet dreams about your priest. This, is somehow, incredibly hot to you. To have his son fucking your mouth, regardless of what object he’s using to do it.

Mark continues to press the cross further and further into your mouth, watching the way you swallow around it and relax your throat as it slides more and more down your throat. He wonders what it would feel like if it were his cock, because you’re taking it so well. You must have done this before, with countless other men, he thinks. How lucky for them to have someone so desperately wanting to be gagged.

“You’re filthy for doing this, you know that?” He insults, tipping the cross just a bit so that its hardened wood hits your throat the right way to elicit a gag out of you.

You cough around it, pushing his hand back so that he can pull the object from your mouth. The tears are prickling at the corners of your eyes as you look up at him, wondering if he’s going to pry your mouth open again but he doesn’t.

He tilts his head to look at your panties, seeing that the spot had gotten bigger.

“I can’t believe you actually like this–” He laughs, feeling his cock begin to hurt for some sort of friction. “Again?” He asks, and when you open your mouth again, he almost moans.

You take it into your mouth without so much as a second thought this time, allowing him to slide the cross back and forth against your tongue and into your throat. You willingly swallow around the harsh edges, tears falling all the while.

You’re gagging so softly around it, he’s almost jealous at this moment over how you wanted his dad before you wanted him. Surely no one would do this for you, right? Just Mark, Right?

When he pulls it out this time, your saliva coats the cross in a way that arouses him intensely. Intensely, he stares at your lips, slack and waiting for him to continue his abuse but he opts not to. Instead, he grabs your hand and places it against his cock.

Feeling a little shocked that he’s actually letting you touch him, you take the opportunity and run with it. You press your palm against his hardened cock without any amount of shame, and you watch as he hangs his head for a moment.

“Bet you wanted to fuck my mouth.” You croak out, your voice sounding just as bruised at your throat.

His head shoots up in response to that and he grabs your face harshly, bucking against your hand at the same time. “Stop talking.” He seethes, releasing your face and inserting his fingers into your mouth instead. “Stick your tongue out.”

You do as he says, feeling his heavy cock twitching against your palm.

Mark seems like an expert at this, you aren’t sure, but when he presses your tongue down with his fingers to open your throat up, he spits into your mouth so easily that you have no choice but to swallow it.

You moan at that, grabbing his cock this time as your tongue fights against his fingers that are holding it down. Mark’s hips stutter at your grip and loses almost all composure when he dips down and moves his arms to either side of you, essentially pinning you there and pressing between your legs.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, I can see it.” He croaks, not even allowing you to offer him a nod before he’s got his lips attached to yours and licking into your mouth. It feels impossibly better than the cross pressing against the back of your throat but you swallow his kiss just as easily.

His hips continue to grind against your hand as he continues to assault your tongue with his own, groaning into it more and more before he’s nearly a panting mess before you. He pulls back from the kiss only for a moment to stare at you, eye contact more fierce than it was before.

“Do you want to fuck me?” You manage to slip out before he can silence you again, and his eyes widen in shock.

More than anything, that’s what he wants to do to you. He wants to shut you up in as many ways possible right now, and he definitely wants to fuck you in as many ways as possible. But he can’t, and he won't.

“Hah– I bet you’d love that.” He laughs, reaching a hand from between the two of you to press his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. You can’t even get a good look at it, because he’s instantly grabbing himself and fucking his fist before looking back up at you. “Go on, look.” He says, leaning up so that you can watch him jerk himself off in full view now. “You’d probably beg if I asked you to.”

“Please?” You instantly let out, eyes staring at the angry head of his cock leaking with precum.

“I didn’t say to actually beg–” He laughs, halting his hand and instead, thrusting his hips into the tightly formed hole he’s created. “I’m not going to fuck you.” He laughs again, picking the cross back up and looking at you with a smirk.

Of course. The cross. Well, at least you’re going to be fucked with something right? You eye the piece of wood and then go back to watching him. You’re not sure what it is about this situation but it feels like you’re body is on fire. Maybe it’s because hell is right beneath you, just a floorboard away from what the two of you have gotten yourselves into behind this locked door.

“Oh?” He halts his hips and licks his lips. “You actually want me to fuck you with this?”

You nod frantically, spreading your legs in front of him and showing off how large the spot on your panties has grown.

Watching as his eyes practically burn a hole through your pussy, he releases his cock and looks at you seriously this time.

“You are aware of what we are about to do, right?” He laughs nervously, glancing at the cross. “Like, if you ever tell my dad about this, I will be disowned.”

You shrug, looking back at him. “Who said I was going to tell him?”

“Well, since you’re so inclined to confess every fucking day–”

“Mark, you’ve already fucked my throat with it.” You deadpan, hooking your legs around him to pull him close enough to feel his cock hit your wet panties. “You’re the dirtiest one here.”

He laughs at you for that. Because yeah, maybe he is. Maybe he’s the one who shouldn’t be in church, and maybe he’s the one who should have been confessing this whole time. Never in his life has he ever done this, or so much as imagined doing it, but. . . it’s so perverse. So, wrong. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what’s attractive about it.

“You don’t have to use the cross, you know.” You urge him in an attempt to use his cock, because it’s already sitting so heavy against you. It’s kind of all you can think about.

“No.” He barks out, pulling his hips back and pressing the cross against you instead. “I’m taking these off of you now.” He gets right back into it without a second thought. He doesn’t care what he’s doing or what the repercussions of doing this will be. It’s not like he wasn’t going to hell before anything, not based on the fantasies he’s had anyway.

Mark hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down your legs harshly, to the point that they’re stretching so far that it feels like they could cut through your skin. He backs away for a moment upon seeing you grimace at that, allowing you to slip them down your legs before positioning himself back between them.

“Sinful.” He says, looking at your pussy and the way it clenches around absolutely nothing. He sees the slick seeping out of you already, and it’s not only pathetic but so fucking desperate of you.

Before the cross, he experimentally traces his fingers along your folds until he gets to your entrance, and without hesitation, he slips one of them in. The grip of your walls alone could probably send him over the edge if he were to make a last-minute change and shove his cock into you, but he holds back. Instead, he traces the cross against you in the same way he did with his fingers, slowly inserting it alongside his digit.

Pulling back, Mark watches your face as the cross opens you up, probably dragging against your walls most uncomfortably as a reminder of the ultimate sin you’re committing with him right now.

When your face doesn’t contort into that of pain, he pulls his finger out of you and places his hand back on his cock. Still staring at your face, he fucks the cross in and out of you. He does this until you finally moan.

Upon that little whimper of a moan, Mark is sent into a different headspace. One that quickens his pace with the object inside of you. He presses it in and then pulls it all the way out just to see your pussy beg for more.

“So sinful–” He coos this time, trying to ignore the shiver that shoots through his body at the way you yearn for it.

Fucking it back into you, he works his hand into the right rhythm and continuously thrusts the object in and out of you with a gentle, yet rough pace. Now, he makes a point to fuck his own fist at that same pace. Thrusting forward as the cross is buried deeper and deeper inside of you. If he thinks hard enough, it’s almost like he’s the one fucking you.

He keeps this up for a few minutes, up until your legs are shaking around him and you begin to reach out with your hands. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s incredibly fucking horny right now, he’s probably be rushing for the holy water to save you from whatever demon is possessing you. But he knows that this is no demon, this is all his own doing. He’s loving it. Every single bit of this situation is being burned into his memory, and when your legs shake, it only urges him to fuck the object into you harder.

You whimper out strings of nonsense, almost begging for a release from this grasp he is holding over you both physically and mentally, but he doesn’t relent. Your pussy is being pounded by an object that should have you crying in fear, but instead, you’re so close to release you can only beg for more, more, fucking more. And god, he keeps giving it to you.

In an attempt to open your eyes, you feel dizzy with lust. Your hips buck up against the object with intent, and you can’t stop watching him.

“Fuck–” Mark stutters, watching you fuck yourself against the holy relic. It allows him to rest his arm as he continues to fuck into his other hand, still at the same pace as your hips.

He’s watching and intensely imagining that it’s you on him, and he can’t stop thinking about how fucking warm you must be, how tight, how sinfully delicious your pussy must be for you to be acting like this for him. And then he loses it, and on the verge of his orgasm, he slips the cross out of you and lets it fall to the floor.

You can barely understand what’s happening until you feel something bigger slipping into you. When you feel his cock prying you open, pumping in and out of you at a frantic speed, you cling onto him with a bruising grip.

Mark practically falls over you, forcing you to fall back against the desk as he relentlessly slides his cock in and out of you. His breath is heavy against your neck as he loses himself, and all you can do is thank the same god you just disrespected for this cock that’s abusing your hole in all of the right ways.

“I can’t–” He groans out against your ear, slowing his pace so that he can gain a rhythm back and fuck into you in hard, long thrusts. “You’re so fucking dirty.” He insults, pushing you up the desk with each thrust. “I can’t resist.” He insults himself this time.

You can barely make a sound from the number of sensations you’d been feeling for the past however long. You want nothing more than for him to rub your clit, or for him to let you rub your clit. And as if your prayers were answered, he does just that.

You can feel him squeeze his hand between your bodies just to harshly press into your clit in a way that provides more pain than pleasure, but you’ll take whatever you can get while he uses you in the way you practically asked him to.

Your orgasm hits you almost instantly, pussy sucking in his cock each time he goes to thrust, and the sounds coming from your throat could be considered demonic by some, but he swallows them up with ease when he notices your climax.

Mark licks into your mouth, soothing you with dirty words when he pulls back to breathe.

“You should see yourself–” He pants out, sticking his tongue out to lick against your lip. “Coming on my cock like this?” He says again through a moan. “You’re beautiful.” He adds like a period at the end of a sentence.

That alone makes you feel…different, in fact, it prolongs your orgasm far past sensitivity when he continues to thrust into you. You can’t tell if he said that because he’s close, or if it’s because he meant it. Quite frankly, you could give less of a fuck if he meant it.

Mark stutters his hips when you lift your head just slightly, gripping his hair and skewing his head to the side so that you can whisper into his ear.

“Are you going to come inside of me?” You whisper with a shaking voice, “are you going to love it as much as I will?”

His eyes squeeze shut as he aggressively turns his head and, once again, pries your mouth open with his tongue. A bruising kiss follows as he fucks his last few thrusts into you, doing just as you implied he should.

He pumps his cum into you relentlessly, thankful that it’s not all over his pants, thankful that you came around him instead of that forgotten cross on the floor. He wants nothing more than to remind you time and time again who got to you first. It was him, not his father.

You smile at him when he pulls back out of breath, examining his pants before stuffing his sensitive cock back into them and reaching down for the cross.

“If you ever fucking tell my dad about this–” He seethes, narrowing his eyes at you much as he had done before.

“Go on.” You say, voice shaking as you try to grasp back onto reality from whatever world his cock had sent you into.

Mark is at a loss for words, because, what could he possibly do about it if you were to tell? He looks at you, still spread out against the desk, dress crumpled on the floor, his cum seeping out of you in a messy show of how much of an absolute whore you must be.

“Just, don’t tell him.” He finally says, averting his eyes from you and looking at the cross in his hand.

“Do you feel bad already?” You ask out, finally lifting to get off of the desk.

“Don’t you?”

You shake your head, struggling to stand as the seething pain of having a wooden cross stuck into you shoots through your body. “Not really.” You try to laugh, but you wince instead.

“Did I hurt you?” He finally asks, walking up to you with a soothing hand that hands your dress out to you.

You’re a little shocked by his kindness.

“Yeah, a little.” You laugh it off though because, at the moment, it felt good. You wouldn’t have wanted any other way despite how blasphemous the act was.

“Oh.” Mark seems sorrowful in his tone, but his gaze doesn't leave you. “I- um, I don’t know how to make it like, not hurt?” He scratches the back of his head.

In your attempt to put your dress back on, you do note that the pain inside of you isn’t unfamiliar. You’d been fucked hard before, but that was a long time ago. You missed this feeling, realizing that it was exactly what you think you needed.

“It’ll pass.” You assure him, taking a deep breath and trying to stumble your way to the door. “I guess I’ll see you next Sunday?”

Mark dips his head with a small nod, feeling guilty for what he’s done. Not because of the cross, not because of the sin, but because he’s unsure of how to get out of this happening again.

#mark smut #[cnc]#[religion]#mark lee smut #nct smut #[tw]

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stormio2407 · 11 months

Note

Whats the story behind your characters?

Oh man, I had to think about this question for a bit. When I made Ava and Rita, I wasn’t expecting them to gain any traction, so I never really made any lore or backstories. I was sooooo wrong tho lmao

I’ve been writing and rewriting a story for my boy, but I think I finally made something I like:

Avalon is a love angel/ Cupid. He oversaw human desires, love and lust, and relationships between partners. However, after falling in love with a mysterious black-winged angel, he lost his status as a “pure” angel- with this, his wings turned red and his halo disappeared.

Now as a fallen angel, he was set to be purged, so he ran away from the Gates and escaped to earth. From here, he stayed hidden for a while, until he met Rita.

Rita is a hardworking, outgoing woman living on her own in an urban town. She found Ava on the city’s outskirts, unconscious and battered, and decided to help him. After weeks of healing, Ava offered his thanks and left, only to come back a month later.

He realized that during his stay, he fell for Rita, after witnessing her kindness with not just him, but towards the people around her. She had a vibrant aura that he couldn’t help but notice.

Rita had her reservations with Ava because he was considered sacred. She believed it was some sort of sacrilege to be romantically involved with him, but Ava reassured her that being with her was his own decision. Not only that, but his rejection in entering to the Gates meant that he was somewhere between being an angel and human- something not sacred. After some convincing, she decided to give the relationship a chance. She never looked back.

A lot happens during this time, but they stay together for 3-4 years. Even though they weren’t planning to have a family, they suddenly got the news that they were expecting 5 little ones on the way. They were shocked but not unwelcoming; Rita was just astonished that she was gonna have a family when all odds were against her; Ava was surprised that he was pregnant, again. :D

They both chose to have their children in secret (with the help of some people keeping that secret).

After this, the rest is history. :D I have some ideas of interactions I wanna draw out with them during Ava’s pregnancy, but I’m still deciding whether some get posted on this account or on another one. Most of my ideas are more wholesome than lewd, but I’ll probably switch up some of them to fit more for this account.

I hope this was enough info about both of them. Of course I’ll add more over time, but this is all I have for the story. <3

#doodle #ask me anything #questions #mpreg #mpreg story

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dovahkook · 2 years

Text

Divine Blessings

Pairing: MORAX (ZHONGLI) x READER

nsfw: sacrilege, corruption, breeding, dragon-hybrid, dacryphilia, dumbification (not in this piece)

PART II > here

tags: smut, concepts of war, morax being a menace, idk what else just be warned the piece is kind of dark and it involves death, maybe some gore, religious themes, kinda blasphemous and the reader is a heathen… for now…

A/N: I havent written in a long time lmao lets get this out of the way because what better way to bring good luck than to be fucking the geo archon himself, right? hope you get him within your first 40 pulls :) this was supposed to be a quick fuck piece but ended up having a plot that i have not gotten to the fucking lol. also i want to keep it gender neutral but when it comes to the smut i'll give warning on how it's handled.

You knew the fate of your nation was doomed the moment your god declared war against Liyue Harbour. The foolish, egotistical buffoon that was the God of Dreams really thought he would be able to reign over both nations when up against a god as merciless as the Lord of Geo, Morax.

Insufferable, truly.

You never held faith in the god of dreams. Your family believed you were the one who plagued them with misfortune ever since you refused to worship the deity of your nation but you stood your ground. Refusing to believe in a god who did nothing for his people and who would punish non-conformists by plaguing their sleep with nightmares until they eventually gave into his ruling.

How could you ever respect a tyrant?

It did not matter if your family sent you away to live and serve at the god’s shrine as a 'cleric' in hopes of you finding a way to let the lord of dreams into your life. You could never allow yourself to fall into the false promises of a god so arrogant.

A god so vile.

Living in the temple, you knew of the wicked cards up his sleeve. The secrets only the other priests and priestesses knew of the god.

The stairway leading towards the temple began in the centre of the city, granting access all the way up towards the altar where people would make their offerings to the god of dreams. Beyond the altar would be the entrance to the realm of dreams, referred to as Haze, where the god would spend his time gathering his army in preparation for the overthrow of Liyue. No mortal was able to pass through to the realm of Haze without their bodies being tarnished by horrid scars and their mental state declining ever so slowly that it was painful for those simply witnessing it.

The god not caring about the effects it left on those who were curious as he believed they deserved it for going against his wishes.

However, the clerics of the temple had a special blessing laid upon them to enter the realm to care for an imprisoned soul. The god’s triumph card: an illuminated beast that he enslaved during one of his conquests. Taking advantage of the poor being by exploiting his weaknesses and forcing him to destroy any weaker gods daring to oppose the tyrant.

The other clerics dreaded tending towards the hostile adeptus as he would try to fight his way out of the realm but nothing could free him no matter how hard he tried. And this was your only advantage over the other devotees. The beast was less hostile towards you, the one who would try to sneak him in proper food and water and who would try to clean his wounds after battle. You came to know him as Alatus, the only other being who seemed to hate the God of Dreams as much as you did.

What good did forcing beliefs ever do for anybody? What good could possibly come from a non-believer living in the temple for deity worship?

The downfall of said deity was a start.

One day as you were making your way back towards the shrine, the earth began rumbling under your feet. Stone steps leading to the opening gates of the altar cracking and shrieks in the far distance were carried through the wind. Maidens in the temple tried rushing towards the doors to call to those in the village to seek refuge in the sanctuary while guards left all posts to stand at the city gates. All was happening at once as the watchtower chimed the bell that stood as the warning of incoming forces. A bell that signified something worse than death was coming.

The god of dreams suddenly made his way to the centre of the city where everybody could see their deity. Silver wings unfurled and the tips of his indigo hair streaked a vibrant azure as he called upon his allies and summoned his bow in preparation. Standing with him was Alatus, as well as his summonings from the realm of Haze. Titanic sized elemental beings who were forced to obey the god as he had their state of mind altered through their dreams.

It was all or nothing now; a war that cannot be lost.

“My people, lend me your strength and stand with me this day. Morax is here.”

And with that declaration, a thunderous roar shook the earth once more.

Morax, the lord of Geo, the ruler of Liyue harbour - strode ever closer with only two other allies at his side. A dragon as tall as the mountains itself, and a crane that flew above them, large and enchantingly graceful with every thrash of her powerful wings.

You stood motionless within the sanctuary of the temple, far into the city and towering over to symbolise as a beacon to his people that he is ever present. Fear creeping into your heart thinking of where your family may be at this hour while a war looms ever so greatly over their heads. But even your thoughts were not fast enough to keep up with the reality of a war between gods.

Even from the farthest point of the city you could see soldiers fall into the shattering earth as the great dragon seeped into the bedrock and caused the ground they stood on to be littered in gorges that burst into flames. The crane took charge of fighting off the titanic creatures with an art so pure and filled with elemental energy that it could even freeze over the fires the dragon created in the earth. And with the hands of his allies full, all the god of dreams could hope for was to defeat Morax with his triumph card.

The Devourer of Dreams.

Morax invaded incoming attacks from the God while the young adeptus blinked in and out of mists of black ruin in an attempt to land a strike. Futile attempts and the sound of weapons clashing raptured through the city.

You watched as the sky became a blanket of frost and the ground below sunk to swallow up those who dare cross the lord of geo. People ran towards the alter, tears streaming down their face as they wailed their prayers for safety in the sanctuary.

Eventually they reached the middle of the city. Defences shattered and all allies nearly slain by the hands of the crane and the dragon alone. Morax still fought on as he pushed the god and Alatus further and further into the city in attempt to reach the temple. Your eyes widening as you noticed the dragon and crane taking on human forms and dispersing over either side of the city to clear it of any hostiles. The dragon making his way to where your family used to live.

Your feet took the initiative for you, running to follow in pursuit of the dragon and ignoring the pleas of the other priestesses and attendees to remain behind and care for the people of the city. You did not care. Their god could not protect them so why would you risk the safety of your own family and place your faith in that false promise of a god to keep them protected from the wrath of the rock.

It felt as if every bone in your body was on fire as you ran towards the location of your old home. The sheet of frost causing your skin to burn from the cold temperatures while the smoke of smouldering earth filled your lungs. You persisted through. Tears in your eyes from the pain that you had to swallow back and used the scarf draped over your shoulders to wrap around the lower half of your face.

Of course, all was futile.

When you arrived at the scene, your house was in ruin. Roof caved in and bodies of neighbours trampled along the street painting the ground the most nauseating shade of red you had ever seen. This is what happens when you placed all your faith into a god who did not care for his people. You did not bother moving from where you stood. Snowflakes gathering on your shoulders and eyelashes and your gaze never faltered from the childhood home you would never be able to return to.

To the family who gave you away to a god who failed to protect them.

A building nearby caused a reverberating sound of malice that brought you back to your senses. The adeptus covered in karmic mist laid meekly in the rubble of the building after Morax managed to subdue him. You watched helplessly as the - now human form - of the dragon strode towards the impact and checked the pulse of the adeptus. His eyebrows furrowed as he knelt down to pick up Alatus and slung him over his shoulder. Were they going to enslave him too?

The dragon looked towards the sky and you followed his gaze. Not far above both of you was Morax himself and your heart stopped momentarily when your eyes met the ones of burning amber.

Knees feeling weaker and breath hitching as you witnessed the grip on his spear tightening before he gazed back towards the dragon who found his attention on you, too.

That was your cue to run.

No prayers following your lips as you tried fleeing back towards the temple.

No sight of the God of dreams anywhere near Morax.

Only the blinding frost and sound of screams could be heard now.

You carried on running.

No time to stumble.

No time to look back.

Because of that false god, your life was on the line to a God whose wrath was said to be worse than the fate of death.

You managed to get back to the stairway of the temple before your body eventually gave in to exhaustion. Frustration pulsing through your veins telling you to MOVE! GET UP!

But nothing.

You clenched your fists, damning the god who caused all this by his declaration.

And soon, the shadow of the Lord of Geo could be seen behind you.

Tears, warm and staining your cheeks dripped onto the cracked stone as you accepted your fate.

Laying there, the last sight your eyes would burn into your mind was of the maidens erratically trying to shut the gates to the temple.

“I knew your false god could not protect us.” Were the last words said before slipping into darkness. And you hoped that those words, you so bitterly mumbled, reached the ears of the god who failed everyone.

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #morax x reader #genshin impact morax #xiao genshin impact #alatus #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #rex lapis x reader

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aliasrocket · 10 months

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What kind of music do you think rocket would like? We know he likes a lot of quills songs, but can you see him gravitating towards a certain type of music? One of my favorite rocketisms in the movies is his love for music and him singing along to songs (: sorry if this has been asked before !

No no worries!! I love song related qns!

I’m not sure if Quill listens to country pop but it seems Rocket does, as observed in vol 2 when he hums to southern nights (a song I grew to LOVE bc of him btw)

Since Rocket listens to ‘Creep’ and actively sings along to the chorus I feel like he does like songs based on how much it relates to him as well so …

I’m gonna split up songs based on the vibe of Rocket’s music taste and then I’ll get into songs that I think relate to him but also fit the vibe but a little less, I suppose.

First up : Rocket’s music taste.

He’d also definitely be into Arctic Monkeys and some of you may laugh, Harry Styles. I said it. Definitely would dig Queen and The Sukis and some of Mitski’s songs.

Specific songs I feel are up his alley are

Arabella — Arctic Monkeys.

Kiwi — Harry Styles.

Bohemian Rhapsody — Queen.

Animo — The Sukis.

A Pearl. — Mitski.

I could go on but these are some specific songs from each band or artist I suggested, lmk if you’d like more recs bc I find a lot of their songs relate to Rocket as well/have the same vibe with Rocket’s music taste.

Second up : Relatability.

I feel like he would really like Will Wood, especially ‘love me normally’ because of the lines,

“I’d rather be normal, yes so normal, I suggest that we keep this informal, ‘cause a normal human being wouldn’t need to be pretend to be normal, to be normal, well I guess that’s the least that I owe ya, to be normal in way I couldn’t be, c’mon c’mon and love me, normally.”

OH AND PENELOPE SCOTT he’d find penelope scott’s music super cool too, thinking about the song ‘Rät’ and how it sorta relates back to his relationship with H.E ;

“I come from scientists and atheists and white men who kill god, they make technology high quality, complex, physiological, experiments and sacrilege in the name of public good”

“They taught me everything just like a daddy should.”

“I studied code because I wanted to do something great lke you.”

“I loved you, I loved you, I loved you it’s true. I wanted to be you and do what you do. I lived here, loved here I bought it’s was true I’m so embarrassed, I feel abused.”

I have a lot more but I don’t wanna ramble on for too long so lmk if you guys want more lmao I love talking about songs!!

#rocket raccoon #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #rocket gotg #gotg vol 3 #ask response #ask reply #gotg fanfiction #gotg headcanons #mcu gotg #anon ask #anon asks #.alias.inbox.#.alias.tunes.

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sendmyresignation · 9 months

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what do you consider to be the best metal albums of all time? or your favs!

this ask has terrorized me all morning. thank you, and i mean this from the bottom of my heart, for sending it to me so i can talk about metal.

I am going to separate this into best, as in the classics i think hold up the best/are the most complete, and then my favorites (obv there is overlap but i'll ignore it).

Top 5 "Best" Metal Albums- the records you find on retrospectives and blog lists:

Black Sabbath- Black Sabbath. Not only a historic achievement of an album (the definitive point in which metal, for sure, existed) but also, i truly belive the best Sabbath record. The opening track itself is good enough everything else could be joke covers of the beach boys and I'd still put it here (they're also very good though. GOD. the wizard slaps)

Master of Puppets- Metallica. I know. I know. It's just solid all the way through, not a bad track, incredible opener and fantastic instrumental, everyone's said it all.

South of Heaven- Slayer. Again, undeniable. The Slayer record with the most literal heft and, well the closest thing to maturity the asshats of Slayer can achieve. The speed and ferocity of Reigh In Blood is still very good but over in a blink of an eye, while Heaven gives you more to be pummeled by. different kinds of anger.

Don't Break the Oath- Mercyful Fate. One of those true, blue perfect records, while also being beautifully cheesy. Like if a campy 80s movie about naked sacrifices to Satan was... really good with gorgeous cinematography. edges out Melissa by the narrowest margins (production is more suited for their style, giving the guitars an edge and putting the vocals front and center)

Live After Death- Iron Maiden. I love Maiden so much but their albums always have one or two duds. even if they didn't, though, live after death would probably smoke them anyway- it's that good. getting to hear phantom of the opera in dickenson's voice... i like di'anno but that song deserved Theatre

I love all of these records, many of them are what got me into metal so if you are looking for a high-qualiy place to start...

But I'll put my favorites under a read more lmao

These I would consider my top ten favorite albums at this given moment:

Stained Class- Judas Priest (the best priest. to me. i got my pentagram stomach tat on her 45th anniversary <3)

Thundersteel- Riot (rock city might edge this one out but that records barely metal at all. THIS is the pinnacle if power metal- in the old school uspm speedy way. incredible vocals, ripping speed, and its good from start to end)

Rock Goddess- Rock Goddess (something about this record....standard nwobhm fair but there's a surprising variety in the songs emotional center- it's all love and sex but it encapsulates a lot more humanity than most- different kinds of passion, heartbreak, desperation. and it ROCKS)

Operation: Mindcrime- Queensryche (greatest of all time. thee concept album. nothing else to say)

Black Metal- Venom (venom, if you catch me on the right day, is probably my favorite band. i love first wave black metal- it sounds like shit, it's lost all the edge in the intervening years, and yet. and fucking yet. they threw together something special.)

Behind the Realms of Madness- Sacrilege (crusty thrashy goodness. i love everything sacrilege has done, including their doomier late career, but the energy on this is wild. beat out detente on this list so if you like them, youll like sacrilege)

Feel the Fire- Overkill (overkill, by the band overkill, is the best thrash song of all time. well. maybe not but it's fucking undeniable. this overkill has the best energy of any of their albums, even if the others are more well-known)

Darkness Decends- Dark Angel (metal that sounds like shit eats punk that sounds like shit for breakfast)

The Blueprints for Madness- Deceased... (one of my favorite old school death metal records, mostly for the strange grind touches. it could be shorter but damn.)

All Creatures Great and Eaten- Nuclear Death (stands toe-to-toe with mindcrime at the top of my list. strange and depraved in the best possible way. lori bravo is the best to ever do it)

Dommedagsnatt- Thorr's Hammer (im just so enamored with this one- def the record here I've spent the most time on. death/doom done so right)

Sagrada Tierra Del Jaguar- Yaotl Mictlan (the black metal/folk thing usually sucks bc the people making it are white pagan nazis and shit. but, globally, there's been some very cool indigenous bands who have incorporated precolonial music traditions in their black metal as a result. yaotl mictlan, a band with prehispanic themes and instrumentation, is prob my favorite of these bands, easily.)

Glory, Glory! Apathy Took Helm!- Vile Creature (idk why this made me cry but any doom/sludge capable of that deserves a spot on my favorites)

Some new bands that could grow onto this list: Smoulder, Messa, Blood Star, SONJA, Negative Plane, Dilly Dally (rip to the queens), and Melissa!

Anyway! Hopefully this ask gives you, anon, (or anyone for that matter) something new to enjoy :))

#thank you again sorry this is so much 😔#i got excited!!#you can and should listen to any of the albums btw #igottheanswer #anon #music recs

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acourtofthought · 1 year

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I love that e/lriels like to ignore the fact that azriel’s inner monologue during his chapter in his moments with elain were literally about how WRONG it all felt and how he had to forcefully ignore that lmao. Which is absolutely not how the mating bonds or long term relationships were ever described. They both know they’re not meant to be and will never work out. The whole chapter made it feel painfully obvious to me that they are destined to fail. I personally think they’ll have a brief fling (or not so brief considering there’s three books left💀) but elain will realize that this man does NOT value her as a person and just wants to tradwife her and kick him to the curb for someone who actually sees her as a person real quick 🦊

"Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin" "Wrong - it was so wrong" "Such terrible things that it was sacrilege for his fingers to touch her skin, tainting her with his presence" "Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year" "This was a mistake" "He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to." I mean, that language regarding E/riel in the bonus chapter is concerning. There is no hope in that, there is no joy. It really doesn't matter whether Az has feelings of self doubt because ALL SJM endgame males have felt the same. They questioned their worth, whether they deserved to be happy. But none of them sounded so problematic and put the female on the pedestal Az has with Elain. He literally treats her like a mint condition doll who cannot, at any cost, be blemished, especially not by his own dirty hands. No female should EVER feel like a male views her with such purity because we're all flawed and messy and imperfect. Az has already elevated Elain to an unattainable standard and the entire relationship between them would be Elain needing to constantly reassure Az she thinks he's worthy and then Elain beginning to question her worth when Az finally realizes she's not the fragile, perfect creature he thinks she is, and what will that mean once he does? You're right though, Elain would get sick of being treated like glass pretty quick. Could SJM still go the route of E/riel? Sure. But I would bet money on the fact that they're not happening as she's currently written them. The way they are now is not SJM romance and the way Az speaks of her is cringey. I'm not talking about the sexual aspect, there's nothing wrong with being physically into someone. The other stuff though......his thoughts are very immature (and quite concerning to be honest, he's got a lot of emotional stuff he really needs to deal with rather than focusing on a female right now) and he's putting a kind of purity language on her that is very problematic. When you think of the type of male love interest that SJM prefers, Az with Elain isn't it.

#anti e/riel

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sapphire-weapon · 11 months

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Just kinda hopping onto what you've said about toxic fanbases. It's all so bizarre to me. If it were young teens and children infighting, that'd be fine cause ya know... they're kids, but in my experience it's always grown adults saying the most aggressive, toxic bs. I completely stopped participating in fanbases years ago because of my experience on Twitter. I was pretty young and said I headcanoned a tv show character as bisexual. This lead to me being totally dogpiled by middle aged women trying to argue with me and humiliate me, lol.

This behaviour (ESPECIALLY in relation to FICTIONAL PEOPLE) is not normal. It's totally fucking deluded and I don't know why it's so widespread and acceptable. It's absurd. So, I stay relatively far away from the fanbase of any new media that I enjoy. It sucks, I really like Ada but the ship is just so awkward and forced to me. It makes little sense for either of them. It's sad that as a grown adult, I can't happily share a harmless opinion about a god damned video game without the worry of being bullied by other adults!

you know i'm actually really surprised that people jumped on you for a bi headcanon. and i'm especially surprised it was women dogpiling you. usually the only people who are upset about bi headcanons are dudebros who are the actual personification of the meme

from what i can tell, that kind of thing is usually pretty well accepted in fandom these days. back in my day, that was borderline unacceptable -- and god forbid you had a trans headcanon. that was actual, literal Sacrilege. trans headcanons are in the same tier of fandom OCs for me, where i see them so prevalent out in the wild now and yet it still blows my fucking mind every time i see them. back in my 20s, that got you mockery and hate and ridicule. now, it's actively encouraged. fucking wild.

but yeah. one of the tweets that i saw that got aeon fandom so rustled was someone just going "aeon is such a boring ship and yet y'all defend it with your life"

like literally. someone just called the ship boring. and an entire fandom had a complete meltdown.

and then lashed out at eagleone for some reason LMAO

could you imagine having that kind of free time? bc i can't. i actually have, like. a job and shit.

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convexicalcrow · 1 year

Text

2022 End Of Year Fic Meme

So this is something I've done on another blog for many years now, but the last time I did it was 2019, and then the pando hit and I didn't have the energy to compile all my fic after that. But today's snowflake challenge prompt is to celebrate your wins, so I thought I'd actually do this at last and sum up all my Hermitcraft and Empires fic that I've written over the past year (and a lil bit), and reflect on everything I've written.

I have a pile of fic from my old fandom I should probably do this with as well but I think I'll do that elsewhere and also perhaps next week bc there's like twice the fic I need to sum up and I ain't got that time tonight lmao.

If you've never seen one of these before, maaaan, these get Long and I ramble a Lot, so feel free to skip if you're not that interested in fic stats and rambles. Also there will be shippy stuff in here just as a head's up. <3

AO3 Statistics 2022: User Subscriptions: 29 Kudos: 3,184 Comment Threads: 112 Bookmarks: 429 Subscriptions: 77 Word Count: 149,459 Hits: 38,644

Stats: Ficlets under 1,000 words written: 17 Short Stories between 1,000-10,000 words written: 35 Stories over 10,000 words: 3 Ficlets on Tumblr*: 6 Total Fics: 61

*I'm only counting the ones I haven't edited and published to AO3 (yet)

Fandoms: 100 Hours of Hardcore Empires SMP Hermitcraft Kingdom Craft Life Series

Pairings: Cub/Scar 23 (can you tell when the ConVex hyperfixation set in >_>) Doc/Ren 4 The Vex/Cub 3 Ren/Cub 3 Ren/Martyn 3 Cub/Scar/Ariana Griande 2 Scar/Jimmy 2 Tango/Cub 2 Bdubs/Etho 2 Scar/Bdubs 2 Renbob/Doc 1 Grien/Joel 1 Martyn/Mumbo 1 Grimdog/Doc 1 Grian/Scar 1 Ren/Scar 1 Scar/Doc 1 The Vex/Cub/skulk 1 King Ren/The Red King 1 Ren/Bdubs 1 The Vex/Scar 1 Katherine/Cub 1 The Vex/Bdubs 1 Scar/Cub/Ren 1 Tango/Jimmy 1 Sausage/Keralis 1 Doc/Bdubs 1 Doc/Etho 1 Doc/Cub 1 Joel/Sausage 1 Cub/Jarvis 1 Joel/Lizzie 1

Friendships/Other Relationships: Cub & Scar 6 Ren & Bdubs 3 Ren & Doc 3 Cub & Iskall 2 Sausage & Pearl 2 Ren & Martyn 2 Ren & Lizzie 2 Etho & Bdubs 2 Cub & Bdubs 1 Cub & a llama 1 Imagineer Scar & HotGUy Scar 1 Cub & Ren 1 Sausage & Santa Perla 1 Sausage & Saint Bdubs of the Sun 1 Cub & Xisuma 1 Ren & Scar 1 Pearl & Scar 1 King Ren & Scar 1 The Vex & Bdubs 1 King Ren & The Red King 1 Tango & Bbubs 1 Tango & Jimmy 1 Tango & Grumbot Prime 1 Grian & Pearl 1 Ren & Tomato Yoshi 1

Average Word Count: 2527.63 words Total Word Count (2022): 149,459 (AO3) + 4727 (ficlets)= 154,186

List of Fanworks:

100 Hours of Hardcore Hunting For A Kiss (455 words)

Life Series Sacrilege and Sacrifice (6,370 words) Through The Fog Of War: Vignettes From Session Seven (1,507 words) You're the B.E.S.T. (1,058 words)

Empires SMP Black Heart (1,453 words) Charisma Level 6000 (1,658 words) Fading Into Darkness, Clinging To The Light (5,002 words) Fog (18,076 words) Hard Wood (983 words) Here Comes The Vex Again (631 words) Legacy (941 words) Moonbeams (2,961 words) Songs From The Old Country (3,589 words) Stripped Wood (876 words) The Midnight Sun (1,679 words) The Restless Dead (1,108 words) Vexed Devotion (3,356 words) Vicegrip (1,030 words) What's Yours Is Mine (462 words)

Hermitcraft #askjarvis (672 words) A Different Kind Of Magic (550 words) A Small Price To Pay (3,339 words) A Vex Never Works Alone (3,047 words) Another Sunset (3,612 words) Blood Moon Rising: The Madness of Rendog (11,863 words) creep (3,766 words) Five Times Bdubs Was Hunted Around The Crastle (500 words) Free Glass Straight To The Heart (2,337 words) Guess Who? (1,631 words) His Name Is Cubfan135 (1,850 words) HoTGuY: The Seige (2,994 words) Hunting Party (20,222 words) hurts so good (3,359 words) Icicles (2,917 words) Kongen Befaler (1,121 words) Language Barriers (894 words) mirror, mirror… (917 words) Mistress of the Dance, Lady of Joy (1,688 words) Moon Big Trauma… But With Llamas! (3,386 words) Occlusion (3,207 words) Ride The Lightning (591 words) Sacred Waters (1,900 words) sacrosanct (741 words) skulk whispers (941 words) Split/Seconds (100 words) Sway (933 words) The Burning One, who seizes what his heart desires (1,471 words) The Streets Of Scarland (1,774 words) two beds and a mattress store (622 words) Uncomfortably You, Uncomfortably Me (1,257 words) Vexcraft (2,722 words) When You Were Mine: A Collection of RenDoc Drabbles from Season Sixfinity (1,200 words)

Hermittober/Life Series Hermittober 2022 Drabble Collection (4,407 words)

Kingdomcraft SMP masquerade (2,583 words) armour love (1,150 words)

Tumblr Ficlets: Pharaoh Cub and Sphinx Scar (646 words) Evoker Cub and Allay-Turned-Vex Scar (891 words) Cub Zombie Apocalypse AU (312 words) ConVex Knight AU

part one (451 words)

part two (953 words)

part three (1474 words)

The Questions!

My best story of this year:

Through The Fog Of War: Vignettes From Session Seven. I threw all my devastation into that fic, and it turned out perfectly. I would change absolutely nothing about that fic. It was cathartic and painful and didn't dim my Ethubs grief but it did help process it.

Last Life was the first of the Life series that I'd watched live, and session seven absolutely wrecked me frfr. ;_;

My favourite story of this year:

Fog, I think. I loved the process of writing it, drafting it on tumblr as the ideas came to me and then editing it later for AO3. I've never really done that with a fic before, because I was always mostly on twitter and I never really used other journals for that kind of writing. But to have tumblr now where I can just throw ideas out and see how they work? That changed how I write so much, and Fog was the first chaptered work I'd done, and I think it came out so well. I went mad on skulk Cub for two weeks, but the fic that came out of it was cohesive, deep, and felt very satisfying by the end of it. I will forever love that fic as my favourite, I think, just because of how I could see people responding to the chapters as I posted them and getting that kind of feedback was so nice. It kept me writing and seeing how to best resolve the story in the most satisfying way.

My worst story of the year:

idk if it's worst per se, but I do think I could have done Split/Seconds a lot better than I did. I was crunched for time and that usually means I write drabbles but it could easily have been longer if I'd let it. I might have fleshed it out and done something more interesting with that moment than what felt like just rehashing what actually happened.

Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion:

Songs of the Old Country, if only because religious world building is kind of a niche thing I think? And maybe it's not as interesting to others as it is to me. >_>

Most overrated story, in my opinion:

This is more in terms of my own inspiration and interest in it but HoTGuY: The Seige. I had a whole thing planned out for it, and life just derailed my work on that fic entirely so it now sits forgotten and I wish I'd given it the time it deserves bc it was going to be a great fic. I just got distracted and yeah.

Most fun story to write:

You're The B.E.S.T., bc who doesn't want a Team B.E.S.T. boy band AU amirite? I loved channelling all my 90s teen boy band nostalgia into that one and I adore the flow of it. It just works perfectly. I have thought about writing follow-ups but I'm not sure I could do it the justice they deserve.

Most representative of you as a writer:

Hunting Party, I think. It's long, kinky as fuck, and contains a lot of the kinky elements I love writing, as well as some new ones that I think worked really well in that setting.

That, and all the trans!Cub fic lmao. I cannot do fandom without writing trans fic I stfg. XD (fics include: masquerade, armour love, mirror mirror..., Sacred Waters)

Contains characterisation you're proudest of:

One of the things I work hard on when I write fic is getting the voices right, bc if you can nail that, you're halfway to getting the characterisation right. And for me, Fog and Occlusion are my picks for this question bc of False. She has quite a distiinctive voice, and I wasn't confident of getting it right when I was first writing her. Helpfully, at the time I was writing ch 8 of Fog, Cub was streaming some MCC practice with False (iirc) so I had that to refer to as I was writing. I don't always write when I'm watching streams but if it's a voice I want to write well, I do use streams for that for sure.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:

creep for sure. First time writing predator/prey kink and I had a feeling it would work for Ren and Doc but I didn't know until I'd written it and saw how well it just worked for them both.

Story with the sexiest moment:

Mistress of the Dance, Lady of Joy. There's a moment when Ariana invites Scar to play as well and with the three of them getting involved, it just feels like such joy to me, which was the whole point of this fic.

Most sexy story:

Oh god there's so many. XD But I'll probably say Sacred Waters. I adore that fic so much. The flow of it, the structure, the drabble-length paragraphs/scenes, how it all just feels ever so slightly disorienting while also being so tender and filled with love and care. It's sexy and hot and soft and I love it so much. <3

Hardest story to write:

Through The Fog Of War: Vignettes From Session Seven. bc I didn't want to write about Bdubs and Etho, but I knew I had to, and boy did the tears flow as I wrote it.

Easiest story to write:

That Cub zombie apocalypse ficlet I posted on tumblr. Woke up with fic in my head and it went from there very easily.

Biggest disappointment:

Apart from the HotGuy fic, probably that I didn't get as much work done on the Pharaoh Cub fic I had planned to do for NaNo as I had wanted. It was set in a world I had used before in an origific novel but hadn't really done much with for many years, and I wanted to write Pharaoh Cub as an actual Pharaoh in Egypt with Scar at his side as well. I just didn't get as far along with it as I'd have liked. Ah well, there's always Camp NaNo! :D

Biggest surprise:

I wrote that fucking Grien/Joel fic I stfg. XD

Story you'd give to an editor as a writing sample:

Through The Fog Of War: Vignettes From Session Seven. I know I keep banging on about it, but I do think it's genuinely the best thing I've written in this fandom so far.

Story which has the best title:

Moon Big Trauma... But With Llamas!

Story I'd like to revise:

Split/Seconds, bc like I said above, I feel like I could have done a lot more with that idea than I did.

Story I wish I'd finished:

HoTGuY: The Seige. Just one of those ideas I ran out of steam with bc everything else happened and it got left to the side. :(

Story I didn't write but I swear I will:

Hmm. I don't have any I haven't started that I want to write at this point in time? Mostly I just have a collection of wips that I am slowly working my way through.

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this last year, less, or about what you'd predicted?

Far more fic holy fuck. I felt I'd written a bit but seeing the word count up there, like, Maaaaaaan, it's been ages since I managed that much in a year. o.o

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in Jan 2021?

I mean, Hermitcraft and Empires fic tbh. I was in a totally different fandom in Jan 2021.

Did you take any writing risks this last year?

*gestures at the above answer* It's always a risk starting to write for a new fandom, especially as someone who's so very, very used to tiny fandoms. This is a much, much bigger fandom space and figuring out how to navigate it and find people I might gel with has been fun and a little intimidating tbh.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?

Not really? I don't do well setting goals for fic. I just write and see what happens.

#end of year fic meme #snowflake challenge 2023 #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #empires smp #empires shipping #fanfic #convex #allll the pairings #but mostly convex #lmao #this is a bit meta #but i wanted to look back at my fics #and celebrate all the fics i've written this past year #and yeah this is only one (and a bit) year of fic writing #i have been a busy boi #o.o

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pixyys · 2 years

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At this point, I am looking forward to when you truly see the magnificence of jokes.

That definitely came out of your mouth, my dear sister. You know, I'm starting to think that you may have a 'crush' on Lippmann... but I won't intervene. And what on earth is that? If you do print it out and hang it around my base, be prepared for Silver coming to slap you. You do know that she does not take artistic sacrilege lightly.

... My goodness, you never stop, do you? No, you are not permitted to continue it even if you bring the Panadol. And I can ask Lippmann for his beauty clinic, since he is always offering to bring me along.

Your determination for Silver and I to get married is frightening. At this rate, I'm considering not even proposing to her. /lh

Chuuya is an intimidating person, but if you get close to him, you'll see that he actually cares... just in a more brash way. And I'm glad that karma is finally taking an action against you. It was about damn time that you got punished for your jokes. lmao /j

And a welcoming gift for Nakahara? Feel free to, however be sure to bring him something really nice to apologise. But please don't bring your corny jokes and pickup lines along with you, or Chuuya might just blast you into a wall.

-🎹

P.S. You seem really insistent on getting to know Lippmann more.

hehe, don't fret, brother. i'm just messing with you. rest assured i'll tone down my shenanigans and mischief. for real, this time.

NOO DON'T SAY THAT, it might come true. what i feel about lippmann is, well, just a momentary curiosity. sure, my mind goes blank when i see him laugh, or my face burn when he smiles at me. but that's normal. definitely not a 'crush.'..right? anyway, enough about me. i see you saw my violint message! >:D but i don't want to get slapped by silver, so point taken. i'll refrain from committing further acts of sacrilege.

for now.

aww, well. can't say i tried, haha. i'll still bring you some of those panadol though, just in case. i owe you at least that much. but what's this about lippmann having a beauty clinic?? i didn't know this. now that is sacrilege. this will make a good conversation starter though. i'm going to have to thank you for this unexpected information.

and noooo don't do that! i mean, look at you! you can't convince me someone will look at you and silver, and not root you. well, my approach must've been a tiny bit too forward, so please forgive me if it made both you feel unnerved. though, i'm still keeping my list of event organizers and wedding card designs, hehe.

i knew it. now i'm more intrigued about this nakahara chuuya. he seems like an interesting individual, i'm looking forward to know him further. for the karma part, i'm not looking forward to. gee, thank you so much for the kind reassurance, brother./ lmaoo

and of course not! what kind of person am i if i gift someone with simple 'corny jokes' and pickup lines? obviously, i'm going to gift him something decent, then include the jokes in the greeting card. hehe, genius. i've have no idea what to gift him, though. definitely not a pet axolotl, that much i can tell.

p.s. listen, i reread this message over and over again. it's getting embarrassing that you might be right. how many times did i even mention lippmann here? let's not talk about it. anyway! have you gone to that amusement park with silver? did you win her any prize or plushies? did silver hold onto you tight when you entered the haunted house? did you both hold hands and gaze at each other's eye during sunset in the ferris wheel? do tell me all of the details. silver's looking a bit down lately, so i hope you both had fun at the amusement park.

#oh my god i totally didnt leave this in my draft and forget to release it :')#[mail]#[rp with silver]

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himbeaux-on-ice · 3 years

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TSN. IT IS THE MIDDLE OF THE AFTERNOON. AND I AM TRYING. TO LIVE MY LIFE. DO YOU FUCKING MIND

#DON’T YOU HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO TODAY BESIDES BULLY ME #TSN seeing all the conflicted feelings I have about the Leafs-Habs series and jabbing it with a pointy stick #the divide between these two things will be the source of a new family feud in the next week and a half lmao #god fuck you know what I AM gonna tag it #foist my suffering upon the rest of you too #joe thornton #Carey price #Toronto maple leafs #habs #montreal canadiens #isn’t this some kind of sacrilege #I feel like looking at this post earned me the right to do the goalie knife chase to the TSN staff

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letterstotheflre · 3 years

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forgive me, father, for i have sinned

summary: your mother takes you to see father lupin to help with the strange thoughts and urges you've been having

warnings: sacrilegeous, religious themes, possible religious innacuracies, implied demon posession (??? lmao), manipulation, power imbalance, dubcon (from previously stated manipulation), loss of virginity, very innocent reader, (rough) oral sex, remus is kinda mean :(

THIS IS A DARK FIC. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS. YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY

18+ ONLY || MINORS DON'T INTERACT

word count: 3.7k

a/n: tumblr deleted this fic the first time i posted. i was (still am, actually) really sad about it, i'm just posting it so people can still read it (and also so they'll kinda stop pestering me about it lol). if you could show it the same love you showed to it the first time, it'd be greatly appreciated :)

The air is cold, the marble floors and stone columns not letting any warmth remain in the building.

Not that you deserve it.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as you sit next to your mother in the church pews, waiting for James to finish talking with the priest. You keep your head down, too ashamed to look up to the carved figure of your saviour in front of you, and your mother’s hand squeezes yours, her nails digging themselves on your skin, but you don’t complain. It’s not punishment enough.

“Don’t worry, honey,” her sweet voice says. “Father Lupin will help you repent, and He’ll forgive you. You know what Euphemia says about him; he’s the best Father this church has had in years. He’s helped Jamie so much, too.”

You gulp nervously. “I’m scared, mom.”

Her dainty fingers gently grab your chin so you can look up to her. “Everything will be alright,” she coos at you.

A soft patter of shoes hitting marble catches your attention, and you turn your head to the left. Tall and proud as ever, James makes his way down the left wing of the church, and you quickly rise to your feet, scrambling to meet him halfway.

When you reach him he takes your hand, his big ones cradling your much smaller one. “He’s waiting for you,” he whispers.

Nerves that you didn’t know you still had left inside you rise. “Thank you for trying to help me, James,” you say. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess, I didn’t know it would end like this.”

He shushes you, one hand now cupping your face and resting his forehead against yours. Your noses touch. “It’s not your fault,” he assures you. “That—that thing inside you… none of us could’ve known. But Father Lupin will help you, he knows what he’s doing.”

You shiver at his word choice. Thing .

“I’m so sorry,” you cry softly. James envelops you in a hug, your shoulders shaking as he cages you in between his arms.

He lets you cry it out, even though he can feel his shirt getting a little wet, and he knows Remus must be getting impatient. He rubs your back and pets your hair until you calm down, and once you step away from his embrace, he brushes your tears away.

“Everything will be fine,” he reassures one last time, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. Then, he walks away, leaving you standing alone in the hallway. A mosaic of the Virgin Mary holding her baby looks down on you, and you shiver.

On shaky legs, you make your way to the confessional. The silhouette of Father Lupin is visible through the latticed partition. You sink to your knees, the wood of the step digging itself on your skin, but you keep quiet.

This is barely the start of your repentance.

You take a deep breath. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” you exhale.

“Tell me what it is you ask forgiveness for, my dear.” His voice is rich and deep, more melodious than the hymns the choir sings.

“It’s— my— I,” you’re too nervous to confess your sins, scared that once the truth comes out, your church will turn its back on you.

“I’m not here to judge you,” he reminds you.

You cringe and close your eyes. “I’ve been having… unholy thoughts.”

“What kind of thoughts?”

You can see a tuft of chocolate brown hair through the partition, so you decide to focus on that. “Sexual thoughts, Father,” you say apologetically.

Father Lupin hums, but you can see a slight tenseness in his posture. “Just thoughts?” You stay silent. “I cannot help you if you don’t tell me the truth,” he says.

“It’s too shameful to say, Father,” you quiver.

“Nothing could ever be so. You can trust that I will do whatever it is necessary to help you. Trust me .”

You consider. You don’t really know him, this being one of the few times you’ve spoken to him, but you can’t help but believe him. After all, he is James’s mentor, and his family can only sing his praises. Your mother wouldn’t let you be so vulnerable with someone you couldn’t lean on, so you open your mouth and the truth spills out. “I’ve had… urges. Strange feelings inside me that I couldn’t get rid of on my own. I asked James, your altar boy, for help but— but he couldn’t help me. I’m so sorry, Father, I tried to corrupt one of your servants, but I didn’t know . Please, forgive me. I am truly sorry for all my sins.”

Father Lupin doesn’t speak for a few seconds, but when he does, his voice is stern. “I’m afraid that this is not something you can be so easily forgiven for.”

Your heart stops beating for a second, tears in your eyes the moment he finishes uttering those dreaded words. “Father, please, I’m so sorry. Is there really nothing I can do to apologize to Him? I’ll do anything, Father, anything .”

“Your situation is truly unconventional, but the Lord has granted me extensive knowledge that allows me to purify you for His forgiveness.” The door of the confessional opens and a beautiful man steps out. He takes off his cassock, revealing grey slacks and a white button-up that hugs his shoulders perfectly. The strange feeling is back, a humming rising in your veins when you see his tense posture as he scans your face. “Follow me,” he orders.

You rise quickly, stumbling a little from the ache on your knees. Father Lupin walks quickly down the hallway and up the short steps that lead to another hallway with many doors next to the altar. You’ve never been on this side of the church, and you scan the area with interest.

There’s a room full of books— Bibles and other religious books if you had to guess. The door to another room is closed, and you turn to the right as Father Lupin steps into what seems to be an office. Once you’re both inside, he locks it and walks to the barren desk, sitting on the cushioned chair. He gestures for you to the same on the other side. “He tried to take it out himself, didn’t he?”

“I’m sorry?”

“James. Instead of forcing it out, he tried to take it out himself. He used his tongue, didn’t he?” When you nod, Father Lupin tsks. “He still has so much to learn. Don’t worry, I know exactly how to fix you.” He stands up and stalks towards you, almost like a beast hunting its prey. “But first, you must repent, show your saviour you are sorry for your indiscretion with my altar boy. Get on your knees.”

You have to crane your neck to look him in the eye. “What do you mean, Father?”

“In order for the creature to leave your body, you must be clean of all sins. Given the abhorrent nature of your sin, I’m afraid a normal penance won’t be sufficient. But don’t fret, my dear,” his hand cups your face, and a sense of comfort washes over you. “If you repent to a holy man, blessed by the word of God, then the mark of the Devil will be washed away, and you’ll be clean once more.”

The way he speaks to you, with so much knowledge, hypnotizes you. You stare into his eyes, resembling the greenery of the Garden of Eden. It’s almost like you have no control over your body, and suddenly you find yourself kneeling on the hardwood floor, your hands resting on your thighs as you wait for further instruction.

Your head, which was previously bowed down obediently, rises when you hear a clinking sound. You watch, confused, as Father Lupin undoes his belt and unbuttons his slacks. He doesn’t look at you as he takes everything off, including his underwear. Quickly, you cover your eyes as your face heats up. “Father! What are you doing?”

Calloused palms cover your hands as he uncovers your eyes, but you keep them closed. “ Look at me ,” he hisses. “If you had the nerve to let my altar boy sink his tongue inside you, you could at least look at a holy man in the eye as you repent.”

You cower at his tone, no longer warm and inviting. But, deep down, you know he is right. If this was the only way you could apologize to God and have that… thing taken out of you, then you would do it. Father Lupin knows what he’s doing , you recall James telling you just before you entered the confessional.

Slowly, you open your eyes, coming face to face with what your college friends constantly refer to as a “cock”. But you’re not sure if this one fits their descriptions. Hours of listening to them complain about how small, not thick enough, ugly or foul-tasting they were tainted your expectations. But Father Lupin was not short by any means. In fact, you’re pretty sure your girlfriends, who were much more experienced than you in this area, would faint at the sight of him. There’s a few veins all over it, the tip a faded red that would get darker the longer you looked at your priest with those wide, fascinated eyes.

Father Lupin grabs you by the back of your head, holding your hair tightly. “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out.” You do as he says, a smirk playing on his lips. “Lick it until it’s hard. You have to work for His forgiveness.”

Hesitantly, you lick a little at his tip, feeling something salty stick to your taste buds. When you hear Father Lupin groan lowly, you decide to move your tongue down to the base, your eyes still focused on his face.

You repeat your movements for a few minutes, even licking his balls when Father Lupin told you so until his dick stands tall. You close your mouth and wait for further instructions, only to receive a “Keep your mouth open” from the priest before you’re suddenly pulled forward by the hair and his cock is forced down your mouth. Your noises of surprise and discomfort are muffled by his tip hitting the back of your throat, turning them into choking and gagging sounds. Despite his rough treatment, you can’t deny the way your underwear gets considerably wetter, and you have to clench your thighs to keep the strange feeling inside you at bay.

Your hands start to flail around, hitting his thighs as your eyes water to the point you have tear tracks on your cheeks. Father Lupin pushes your head down and keeps you still, relishing in the way your chest heaves as you struggle to give your lungs their much-needed oxygen. When he’s sure that you’ll pass out if he keeps up, he pushes you off, watching with dark fascination as you pant and sputter noisily, copious amounts of spit dribbling down your chin and onto your pink polo shirt.

He tsks, annoyed, and takes it off you. “You stupid thing, you’ll get it all dirty,” he scolds as he throws it against his chair.

You blink repeatedly, trying to form words. “S-sorry,” you croak out, your voice broken from the abuse your throat just endured.

When you’ve calmed down a little, the preacher takes a hold of your hair once more, and you can’t help but whimper. “I won’t be able to help you until you make me cum. It’s the only way your soul will be clean of your sin.”

And with that he’s forcing himself down your throat again, his hips no longer remaining still. He thrusts into you while at the same time he pushes you up and down his cock. Your jaw and knees ache, but you can’t even complain because, after a few more thrusts, you feel something warm and thick hit the back of your throat. The previously stoic man groans and snarls as he shoots his load inside your mouth, “Take it all, swallow it down like a good girl,” he grunts.

You don’t have much of a choice, seeing as your mouth is still full of his cock, so you swallow everything he gives you with a strange sort of grimace on your face. Once he knows there’s nothing else to give you, for now, he slides out of your mouth, allowing you to breathe once more.

If you thought he’d give you some respite, you were wrong. He grabs you by the arms and places you on top of his desk, then bunches up your pleated skirt and spreads your legs. You gasp when you feel his finger on your clothed sex. “I can see the creature is still inside you,” he chuckles. “Look at how wet you are, aren’t you ashamed?”

You look at him wide-eyed, nodding your head dumbly. The priest curls his lip in disdain, pressing down on your clit as he starts to rub circles on it. “When I ask a question, I expect an answer,” he snarls.

The friction of the cotton cloth against your heated core is so good you have to force yourself to think. “Yes, Father,” you breathe out.

Father Lupin pulls your underwear aside, using his tongue to flick your already swelling button while his finger circles your hole teasingly. “Don’t worry, little dove. It’s a good thing you can still feel shame, it means the Devil hasn’t corrupted you completely.”

Slowly, he pushes one long finger inside you. The intrusion is so foreign to you that your face scrunches up in pain, a small whimper falling from your mouth. The priest keeps playing with your clit, sucking on it to distract you from the painful experience. “F-father,” you gasp. “It hurts.”

“Good,” he grunts against your pussy, slurping on it before raising his head to look at you, his finger still moving in and out of you. “If it hurts it means the creature is being forced out.”

Reassured that everything was okay, you try to relax; the dexterous way he plays with you allows the pain to turn into pleasure quite easily. He sucks on your clit, moving his tongue around and letting his pearly whites graze your burning flesh. He adds another finger and you mewl, your legs shaking when he curls them perfectly, hitting spots inside you that make you see stars. He even scissors them, making sure you’ll be able to take him with ease.

He can feel some of your wetness make its way down his wrist, and he smirks in satisfaction.

Your hips roll against his face and hand in a broken rhythm. “Father, I feel strange. S-something inside me… it feels like it’s about to snap.”

“Just let it happen, dove,” the beautiful man kneeling in front of you says. With his permission, you allow the coil inside you to break, a loud moan ripping out from your throat when he pushes his fingers deep inside you. Your inner walls cling to them, keeping them snug inside you as you experience your first orgasm ever. You’ve never felt this way before, so light and at ease, your mind quiet for the first time in days.

Wet fingers clutching your chin bring you back to the present, your dazed eyes looking into those green ones. “Come back to me, we’re almost finished,” he speaks softly, his tone resembling the one he used at first during your confession. A part of you, the one that was afraid he would still scorn you after this, settles when you hear him talk to you like this.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Father Lupin asks, pushing his cock between your soaked folds to coat it, your spit having already dried off a little.

“Yes, no one’s ever touched me,” you say, moaning when the tip of his cock taps your clit.

He finally pushes inside you slowly, groaning at how warm and tight you are. You hiss, your back arching from the very painful burn. He begins rocking against you, not letting you adjust to his size, “No one except me,” he grunts. “And that’s how it’ll remain, is that clear? No one but the holiest of men will ever touch you, only James if I give you permission to let him.”

Your mouth hangs open, feeling like he’s quite literally splitting you in half. A rough hand squeezing your throat makes you gasp, your back no longer resting on the wood surface. “I said, am I clear ?” Father Lupin snarls right in your face, his eyes no longer green but rather jet black.

“Only you, Father, only you,” you manage to squeak out, falling on your back once more when he lets go of your neck. Splinters get caught on your naked shoulder blades as your body moves against the table, the crash of the priest’s hips moving you in tandem with him.

At your words, his pace quickens even more, your nails grasping his arms and digging little crescent moons on the skin. Small red rivers drip down to his elbow, a pleasured hiss reaching your stuffed ears.

“Y’re so fucking tight ,” he groans. “At least I know you’re not a liar.”

Your breasts spill out of the bralette you’re wearing from all the movement, a downright filthy moan ripping from your throat when he pinches your nipples and tweaks them around. The previous feeling is back, the one that makes your stomach tighten while it also begs for you to let go.

You grab your priest’s wrist, hazy eyes looking into his as your mouth falls open. “Father,” you manage to get out through moans, completely delirious. “It’s going to happen again. Oh God, it’s going to happen again!”

He leans over you, caging you in between his arms as his still clothed chest. “Let it out, dove,” he coos at you. He feels you squeezing the life out of him as your walls flutter around his cock, and he sees your eyes falling close as your sounds get louder, “That’s it, good girl, making a mess on my cock.”

You shake as you feel the waves of pleasure wash over you, your nerve endings sensitive to the smallest touch. You whine when you feel Lupin’s hands hold your waist tightly as he pounds into you, snarling. “You’re gonna let me fill this filthy cunt? Gonna let my seed clean you from the inside?”

Your mind is so fuzzy that it’s impossible for you to understand the depth of his statement. “Yes,” you say breathily.

With a deep grunt, Father Luping sheathes himself completely until his tip hits your cervix, making you tremble from the overwhelming sensation. He groans as he paints your insides with his cum, rocking back and forth slowly to help him ride it out.

With a deep breath, he pulls out of you, making you whine. He watches as his cum drips from your quivering hole, using his thumb to scoop some of it. Standing straight, he looks at your spent form, sweaty and completely dishevelled from his manipulation.

He begins the prayer of Absolution, and you listen to him with rapt attention. Once he’s done, he signals for you to open your mouth, feeding you his cum covered thumb like it was the communion wafer.

You lick it clean, humming at the taste. “ Amen ,” you say.

With a dark smirk on his lips, he plays with your bottom lip. “Give thanks to the Lord for he is good.”

“His mercy endures forever,” you respond.

Father Lupin helps you sit up straight, aiding you in getting dressed since your limbs feel like lead. He pulls down your shirt, tucking it inside your skirt. “Your sins are forgiven. Go in peace.”

With a deep and shaky inhale, you end the confession. “Thanks to be God.”

You stay silent for a few minutes, looking into each other’s eyes. “It will come back,” Father Lupin finally says while tugging your underwear back on. “But this time, we know how to fight back. I want you to come to me whenever you feel these urges. It’s better to fight them once they start than to let them stew, otherwise, they’ll grow stronger until they take over you. But only come to me , no one else can help you as I can. Do you understand?” He makes sure to slap your clothed and sensitive pussy once more, to make sure his point is made.

“Yes, Father,” you gasp.

“Good girl. I can see the demon is gone for now.” He sits back on his chair, relaxed but somehow remaining the image of sternness. “Remember to pray a full rosary before you leave.”

You get down from his desk, making sure your skirt covers everything it should. Hesitantly, you lean forward to kiss him on the cheek, “Thank you so much for your help, Father.”

You leave the office and walk back to the pews where your mother remains sat as she clings to her rosary. When you reach her, she looks at you with wide eyes. You reach for her hand, “It’s okay. Father Lupin has gotten rid of it, and he said I had to say a prayer for each bead of the rosary and my penance was done.”

Your mother gasps, tears in her eyes and her lip wobbles a little as she kisses your cheek. She gives you her rosary, the red beads infused with a rose fragrance, then gets on her feet. “It took so long! I was so worried you had been lost,” she pets your head. “I have to thank him,” she says as she stands, clutching her chest.

When she’s gone, you sink to your knees once more, the pain barely there this time. Your fingers hold the first bead as your other hand does sign the cross, and you close your eyes. The moment you begin your prayer, a thick pearly drop drips down the inside of your thigh.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin one shot #marauders smut #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction

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