#like I hear about him so much not just in Catholic Church but also in my friends church (Baptist) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wndaswife · 7 months

Note

(fic request) pls write this w nun!wanda (if you want) 😵😵😵

to worship and submit | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Being the daughter of the man that leads the church choir means attending the services when you run out of excuses to be anywhere else, but a young woman who's recently joined the parish to become a nun has begun to make your time there worthwhile.

Word count: 7419

Tags: smut, fluff, humour, sacrilege, quite literally fucking in front of a crucifix, even i feel slightly guilty for writing it, strap-ons, rough sex, spanking, slapping, spitting, degradation, praise, daddy kink, mentions of masturbation, sub!wanda maximoff, dom!reader | MINORS DNI

A/N: SO... i did do some research for this fic... but only SOME... meaning some of the info may be incorrect fyi!!!

gif credit to evilly

Every Sunday since your dad joined the church as their choir leader, you’d been making yourself busy in advance just in case he’d ask if you wanted to come to the services.

You were proud of your dad — really, you were — because he loved music and loved the community the church brought him, and the church was closeby to where your mom worked as an elementary school teacher, so your parents were able to work together when there were community events that involved both the school and the church.

Though, being happy for your dad didn’t mean you also had to be happy when he invited you to the services.

Sometimes you’d attend special occasions like Easter and other holidays and church events wherein your dad prepared his own assortment of music and such for the choir to play, but only because you were there to support him and what he was passionate about — music and community and his family.

Such events were big deals at the church he volunteered at because it was well-known for its large community; the church itself was closely connected to a nearby convent where it had close ties to the nunnery there, as well as having one of if not the most ornate architecture all preserved within a historically-significant religious landmark.

But for the last few weeks, he hadn’t asked you to go with him because he was so busy with the new influx of students joining from the Catholic elementary school your mom worked at; they were all there singing on the weekends for their volunteer hours, but at the very least, your dad said they were still enthusiastic and friendly kids.

So on the morning of one of the very rare occasions in which you hadn’t had anything planned for the Sunday because you weren’t expecting him to invite you as he hadn’t for the last while, your dad invited you to the service.

You could’ve truly made up an excuse and flat-out lied about being busy, but it’d been a while since he asked and you knew he’d been working hard with the new students in his group, so you supposed it wasn’t so much trouble to accept his offer, even if you did groan it out in a superficial fit about having to get out of bed earlier.

It wasn’t that you not being religious had anything major to do with avoiding going to church, because you didn’t entirely mind when your religious parents brought you to the services for special occasions, but rather because you didn’t very much have the patience or sufficient concern for the readings and worship to attend the nearly-two-hour services.

That was truly your most pressing issue with attending the Sunday services with your dad, but today was different, with an unexpected experience to make you dread going even more than you did previously.

“Excuse me?” a timid, unfamiliar voice chirped from behind you.

You turned to see a young woman standing by the doorway of the back hall where the entrance to the choir balcony was.

Typically, you sat around there when your dad was conducting because you weren’t very involved in the church enough to sit at the pews nor were you part of the choir.

But from where you were sitting, you weren’t entirely uninvolved as you could still see and hear the services — it was the perfect spot.

“You aren’t allowed to sit here,” the young woman told you, running the pads of her two fingers along the edge of her sleeve.

Her dark brown hair was neatly pulled back into a conservative bun and she was wearing a black plain dress with a modest plain scoop neckline to show the buttons and collar of the crisply-ironed long-sleeved white blouse underneath that all of the church’s nuns wore, but the simplicity of her outfit and the uncovering of her hair meant to you that she was presently studying at the church to become a nun.

“I’m the choir dude’s daughter,” you said with a polite smile and looked away, expecting for your response to be all the elaboration she needed.

In a way that was subtle with the intention not to be offensive but in that very manner was offensive in itself because of how irritating her caution was, the woman cleared her throat.

“I-I know,” she pressed, “but this area isn’t open for seating. For anyone.”

When you didn’t answer for a moment as you stared at her, she quickly said, “I’m sorry. They told me to tell you.”

“I’ll find a spot in the pews,” you answered and collected your things.

From the corner of your eye, it seemed that she wanted to offer a seating alternative just to make up for what she was forced to tell you, but there wasn’t very much else she could offer.

That Thursday, you were back at the church to pick up an ironed uniform for your dad; it was for a special event set for the upcoming Sunday, and the church pressed it for him and everything.

It was a nice gesture.

They were nice people.

On Thursdays, there were only morning services and events for children in another spacious room where they could colour and play with the church’s team leaders and nuns.

But in the afternoon — which it now was — there wasn’t anything going on.

When you arrived, the church was still and warm with gentle sunlight shining through the stained glass windows and casting a myriad of colours against the pews.

You looked over your dad’s text again and walked through the directions he told you to take to get to the back halls of the church, just a few turns from the stairway that led up to the choir balcony.

The room where you were to pick up the uniform was as pretty as the rest of the church; it was a small prayer room with a pedestal and stained windows and red carpeting, but it was much cozier and probably hadn’t been used for prayer for the group size it was designed for in a little while.

You could see through the glass door the folded uniform for your dad on the windowsill behind the pedestal with a name tag placed on top of it ready for pick-up along with a few other clothes for some other church volunteers.

Upon entry, you closed the door quietly behind you and stepped into the room where you could now see a small table by the window and a familiar young woman sitting with a notebook, jotting a few things down from what looked like a leather-bound book.

“Can I just get my dad’s uniform from there, or do I need to sign it off or something?” you asked, announcing your presence.

She looked up from the notebook and at you then to the uniforms on the windowsill.

“Oh, you’re…” She paused and thought for a moment. “The choir conductor’s daughter?”

“Yeah.”

“I can sign it off for you,” she replied and smiled.

She stood from the table and walked around it to the uniforms, where a piece of paper was set beside the line of neatly-folded clothes.

You watched as she jotted down a few things onto the paper with a pen before carefully picking up the packaged uniform and turning to hand it to you.

“Thank you,” you answered.

“Of course. Have a good day,” she replied and bid you a goodbye before heading back to the table by the window.

You were on the way to leave the room, but you couldn’t, for some odd reason, take your eyes away from the way she lowered herself into her seat and resumed her notetaking.

She didn’t notice when you changed your direction and walked towards the table she was sitting at until you were perhaps just a metre away from her, when she then looked up from her notes and up at you.

“Did I give you the wrong uniform?” she asked, worried and now standing up from her chair.

“No,” you answered quickly and waved your hand.

She stayed standing, curious as to why you walked back.

“Hard at work?” you asked, pointing at her notebook.

Confused for a moment, perhaps by your curiosity in speaking with her, she looked over to her notebook and then back at you with a friendly smile, “Yes, a little. They gave me something to study from. I’m just taking notes.”

Carefully, you reached forward and spun her notebook around so you could read it.

Her curiosity seemed to spike when you leaned forward to read her notes, and she looked at you with a small smile.

“Um,” she started awkwardly. “I want to apologise for earlier this week. For making you move seats.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you replied and looked up from her notes to smile at her reassuringly. “I know they just made you tell me because you’re new.”

The young woman seemed reassured, her shoulders even relaxing a bit when you said it.

“You’re still… What do you call it? Like, you’re studying to be a nun here? Not fully one yet?”

She shook her head.

“Yes, I’m in the study period before becoming a novitiate,” she answered.

Your fingers ran over her delicate handwriting, feeling the indentations of her pen against the paper.

“To worship and submit,” you read aloud from the notebook. “Fascinating.”

She caught onto your twinge of sarcasm but approached it with humour, laughing a little and conceding, “It is a bit medieval, but an important quality, I’d presume.”

Reflecting suddenly on how young the woman seemed much younger than the other nuns, you asked her, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

She was a bit older than you, but still quite young.

Her hair was down now, though still neatly brushed and free of frizz and tucked behind her ears. She was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and an ankle-length black skirt patterned lightly with gardenias.

“How did you get into wanting to be a nun, anyhow?” you asked and moved your attention away from the notebook and towards her. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“I-I don’t?” she inquired, almost sounding nervous at the implication that she wasn’t training herself properly.

“I mean, pious and submissive — sure,” you said, referring to her notes, which made her seem a bit flustered, “but not like a nun.”

She questioned curiously, “More like…?”

After humming aloud in thought, you turned to her with your hip laying against the edge of the table and suggested, “Elementary school teacher. Vet. I don’t know, something like that.”

She was pretty — truly.

Cute, even.

“When I was younger, I wanted to be a vet,” she told you, smiling sweetly.

“Changed your mind?”

“Younger as in quite young, perhaps around ten,” she recalled. “My parents are both rather religious and ever since I turned fourteen it’s always been their intention to have me join a congregation.”

Interest piqued, you asked, “And your intention for yourself was…?”

“For myself?” she repeated as if taken by surprise.

You nodded once.

She paused for a moment to hum thoughtfully before saying, “I was happy to follow whichever path my parents intended for me.”

“You find passion in nunnery?” you asked. “Genuine question — not judging.”

“Of course,” she answered.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you quickly checked it to see that your dad had messaged asking if you were able to pick up his uniform.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been holding you back from something,” the woman apologised and stepped to the side to allow you to leave.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket and adjusting your dad’s uniform in your hand, you replied, “No, not at all. My dad’s just impatient. I should get going now though, since here’s a few errands I have to run before noon.”

She nodded in understanding.

“It was nice being able to talk with you,” she then said. “I haven’t been able to talk with very many people since I came here. It’s all just been about studying and the church.”

Before you left, you made sure to ask for her name, to which she replied telling you it was ‘Wanda.’

Cute name.

It’d been quite a while since you ever attended the services two weeks in a row. The last you did was during the last half of August the first year your dad started conducting the church choir, during which you had nothing else to do but wait for classes to start — so you went to the services.

This time, because the church was celebrating something special, your dad asked both you and your mother to attend the service because he’d been working on preparing a set of songs for the occasion.

Under the guise of being a supportive daughter, your parents didn’t second guess why you were so willing to attend the service this week, nor did they ask if there was a certain individual you were perhaps a bit excited to see again.

Truthfully, you couldn’t stop thinking of Wanda since you last saw her a few days ago. There was much to her you felt laid dormant and sleeping, awakened only just in the slightest during the conversation you had with her. She was kind and curious, but also painfully naive.

She was a few years older than you but knew far less about the truth of her own ambitions and strayed perhaps not even a foot’s distance away from behind her parents’ shadows.

Wanda was interesting, but intrigued you for far too long for her to be only that. Though you couldn’t very well figure out what it was about her that made her bounce around in your head like a pinball until an unassuming evening.

It was sincerely an unrelated act when you first started, travelling your hand down between your legs in the silence of the evening to relieve yourself of the pent-up stress from classes that’d come over you during the last few days.

Truly, it was completely unrelated to Wanda and anything and everything about her when you started, and even during, until you reached your peak of release and found your imagination flashing with curiosities about what she looked like under her garments, how she’d squeal if you spanked her ass and if she’d like it, or how she’d cry out in sheer pleasure if you forced her down and made her take her spankings regardless.

For a moment afterwards there was guilt, but every day onwards there was curiosity, wondering for hours about what you’d seen when you reached that point of pleasure during which Wanda was your only muse.

You’d like to tell yourself it was only that curiosity that guided your willingness to attend the service with your parents, but it was something else entirely too — something completely carnal.

For the first hour of the service, Wanda was still nowhere to be seen. Because of the church’s connections with its convent, the nuns had a large role in some of the day-to-day happenings, but mostly during important church events like what you were presently attending.

Wanda wasn’t a nun yet; she was yet to be even a novitiate as she had mentioned, and so perhaps she just didn’t get to attend events like these.

Though you personally found that counter-productive, you weren't one to complain about the convent’s decisions, but you did wish you got to see Wanda.

If she wasn’t one to be able to attend such events, when would you see her next?

After coming to the realisation that you probably just weren’t going to see her today or perhaps even for a little while, you excused yourself after having been present for nearly all of your dad’s song arrangements and with enough time to be able to be back from the washroom with well-enough time to catch the rest of his songs.

To your surprise, you saw the very woman who’d been on your mind for the last hour was sitting in the hall by the stairway that led up to the choir balcony. She was wearing the same outfit as she had been the first time you met her, with her hair done up in the same way too.

“Excuse me, but you aren’t allowed to sit here,” you teased, approaching from the right and walking into the hallway.

She quickly swiped at her eyes and began to apologise before she raised her head and saw it was you who had spoken to her, and you who now stood beside the bench she was sitting on.

Though she smiled and seemed relieved and happy to see you, you could tell that she’d just been crying — alone in this hallway away from the service and the nuns and sitting at the far end of the bench so as not to be seen by the people attending the mass.

Wanda stood, running her palms down the sides of her dress with a friendly smile while saying, “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” you answered distractedly as you focused on the slight redness of her eyes and the tip of her nose.

You then asked once you were sure she’d been crying, “Are you okay?”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious after realising it must've been obvious that she’d been crying, Wanda carefully wiped under her eyes again and even tried making herself seem less dishevelled by tucking her hair behind her ears before you took her hands away from her face and made her stop fidgeting with her appearance.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” you pressed.

Dismissively as to not bring any more attention to herself, she told you, “It’s really nothing. It’s nothing to bother you with.”

“I wanna be bothered,” you answered lightheartedly. “Come on.”

Wanda smiled at your gaiety and you urged her to tell you what was wrong once more before she finally exhaled in surrender though she didn’t sit down before speaking, implying that in spite of the fact of giving in to you, she wasn’t very well planning on delving too deep into what had been bothering her.

“Earlier today, I had accidentally misplaced the leather book I’d been studying from — the one you saw me with a few days prior, if you can remember,” she said. “And I was scolded terribly for it. It was quite deserving as it was an important collection of notes and such, so I do not question from where my scolding had come, but it seems to me that all I’ve done since I started here is get myself in trouble with the other nuns.”

Here, you tried taking her hand and urging her to sit down, but she wouldn’t, and slipped her fingers out of your hold.

“They found the book in one of the small prayer rooms I’d been studying in, so at the very least it was not a mistake of ruining the integrity of the book by losing it completely, but rather the very principle of having been given something so important and misplacing it,” she continued.

Wanda swallowed and seemed to be contemplating whether to go into more detail, and you could tell that there was something else that had been bothering her that didn’t exactly have to do with misplacing the book.

Before she had the chance to make a decision, there was a passerby who came from the service in search of the restrooms, which interrupted Wanda’s train of thought as she and the man exchanged a brief hello.

“We can go somewhere else,” you offered, taking her hand and heading down the hallway with her. She didn’t take her hand away from you this time, but instead told you that she only needed time to be on her own and that she was fine now.

The only other place you knew was the prayer room you picked your dad’s uniform up in, and fortunately it was unlocked.

You ushered Wanda into the room and she smiled at you from behind and you led her forward to one of the front seats in front of the altar, regarding you with admiration for the effort you put into wanting to express your concern for her and make sure she felt heard.

The early morning beams of light shone through the stained glass like they had that afternoon you’d come here a few days prior, but the room was far less stuffy now, familiar and almost reminiscent of something nostalgic.

The feeling could easily be because of the fact that you’d been envisioning what you could remember from it nearly every hour since that past Thursday, with the room in the background of your mental portrait of Wanda.

She settled down in the seat beside you, feeling encouraged more so because she wanted now to be closer to you rather than solely to sit and talk about what had been bothering her.

But she could partake in the latter if that was what you asked of her — and it was.

“I know that I hardly know you, but I’ve been here for nearly a whole month and you are the person I feel closest to,” she confessed.

You felt flattered, though you knew telling you that she felt close to you wasn’t exactly the point of why she said that.

Wanda further reflected aloud, “I’m getting nowhere I’m supposed to, not finding the call to God like both my parents and the nuns told me about though I have even given it plenty of time. I studied English in college and yet can find not even a little interest in my religious readings.”

While she thought in silence for a moment, you didn’t interrupt her.

When she found the words to verbalise what she’d been meaning to say, she began with a question: “Do you remember when you asked what my own intentions were for myself? On Thursday?”

You nodded.

“It’s ridiculous, but I can’t even recall the last time I sincerely asked that to myself, but perhaps in shallower terms, such as wondering where I might be in a few years or what I might do with my time in the convent.

“But never what I wanted — never who I wanted to be.”

After a moment, when you were sure she wasn’t trying to find words to express herself nor contemplating whether to say something, you asked, “And do you know who you want to be?”

For a brief moment — half of one, really — Wanda looked thoughtful, and then she said and gestured to her clothing and the prayer room, “Not this.”

“So then, what?” you inquired further.

You teased, “A vet?”

Wanda giggled and sat back a bit in her seat. “Perhaps if I were ten,” she said.

Then more seriously, she added, “But now, I’m not very sure.”

“How did you come to realise what you were interested in?” Wanda asked. “For example, your studies. What are you studying?”

She was talking fast, obviously very invested in your conversation together and also rather curious about you.

You thought that was cute; you liked Wanda.

“I’m studying philosophy,” you told her to which she straightened and was eager to hear more about. “But with studies, it’s different, because you’re talking about more personal matters. Academics are far different from personal paths.”

Wanda seemed a bit disappointed because she was looking for a definite answer, but what you explained certainly made sense to her.

She pondered about something then instead asked, “So about personal matters, then. What about those?”

“What about them?”

“Give me a principle to follow,” she sought. “Something I might be able to apply here. Something as general as you’d like it to be, but applicable.”

Her steadily growing smile made it clear that though she was certainly looking for advice, she also thoroughly enjoyed exchanging quips with you and exploring more about you.

In a way, she was as eager to learn about you than how to help herself, if not more so.

You hummed thoughtfully and Wanda watched as you were deep in thought.

“A principle for you,” you said, “could easily be that it’s okay to be selfish, to think only of yourself when you’ve spent so long doing anything else.”

Wanda asked, slightly amused but far more curious, “You recommend hedonism?”

“To you?”

She nodded.

You replied, “Indubitably.”

If you hadn’t already been thinking of Wanda in painfully great amounts before that morning, then you certainly were afterwards.

The third week came around and by then Wanda was banging against every square inch of your skull like an intruder, necessitating the need to be seen and thought of every other minute in any way you could.

Perhaps the relationship you developed with her thus far was one of friendship and nothing more, yet her persistence that never strayed too far from your mind seemed to you that she had become reminiscent of something greater than a platonic figure.

In any case, you had to muster the ability to ask your dad in the most nonchalant manner you could if it were possible for you attend Sunday’s service.

You did it in a way that did not make it seem to him that you were about to become a familiar face in the church, but rather that someone had simply happened to ask you for help during the last service and wondered if you might be able to attend the next — which is quite literally what you told him.

It wasn’t a lie.

Not even when you said that it was a young woman who was studying to become a novitiate at the convent that was curious about the choir and the other volunteers and had asked you about it last week, because Wanda did truly ask about the choir and the other people who volunteered at the church once.

But that wasn’t at all the reason why you wanted to attend the service that Sunday.

“Y/N,” a voice called in a hushed tone when you passed the hallway leading up to the choir stairway where your dad had already walked up towards.

You slipped away from the people filing into the pews and quickly came to Wanda’s side.

“Don’t you have places to be aside from fraternising with the guests?” you teased as she took your wrist and led you towards the room you both seemed to like talking in the most.

“After last week’s ordeal with the book, I’ve been put on some kind of probation from participating in the services so I have more time to study independently,” she told you, not seeming particularly worried.

She added, “On Sundays, the convent is rather empty, so they wouldn’t notice that I’m off not studying. Though I could very well say I chose to study in one of the extra prayer rooms here.”

“And I’m sure they remember how much you love the prayer rooms here,” you said, wiggling your eyebrows at your reference to her having lost the book in one of them.

Wanda faked a laugh in the driest manner you’d ever heard and you nudged her arm to which she told you to stop joking around with her so she could tell you something important.

She closed the prayer room door and sat you down beside her.

From a small bag on the chair to her left, she pulled out a small dictionary.

Here, you were tempted to make fun of her and ask why she was carrying around a dictionary so tiny, but you recalled that she had wanted to ask you about something serious.

She flipped open to a page she had bookmarked.

“Hedonism,” she read aloud. “In philosophy, the belief that pleasure and the absence of pain is the most important principle in determining the morality of an action.”

Wanda looked up at you from the dictionary. “This is what you meant?” she asked.

You nodded.

Curiously, you inquired, “Do you agree with it?”

She looked back down to the page in which had written three definitions of hedonism, the third being the one defined by philosophy.

The first two you could not quite read upside down.

“I have never heard of it in such detail before the time you mentioned it last week,” she said, running her eyes over the words in contemplation, “but it’s interesting.”

“What would be your first endeavour to pleasure, if you had to make a guess?” you asked her.

Wanda ran over the words of the definition again with her eyes, perhaps still deep in thought about it or absently doing so while she contemplated an answer to your question.

“My first?” she repeated.

You looked down at the dictionary page now that she was holding it at a slightly different angle that oriented the letters better for you.

The first definition read, ‘Pursuit of pleasure.’

And the second — you had to tip your head to the side a bit to decipher it — read, ‘Sensual self-indulgence.’

During your deep concentration, Wanda had come to an answer to your question, and it wasn’t until she leaned forward and kissed your unsuspecting lips that you realised she had even stopped looking at the page.

It was the uttering of her muffled words against your lips that triggered something deep within you, perhaps equally as restrained as her own.

An unfinished sentence, but one on its own nonetheless.

‘I want…’ she had uttered, breathless and with one hand cupping your cheek and feeling with the pads of her fingers the softness of your skin.

With that, you hastily reached forward and grasped at her ass, lifting her from her seat and stripping her down so she was in nothing but her undergarments.

The paths of your nails streaked red against her pale skin while you devoured her every step of the way, your lips following every inch of skin that became exposed to you while your hands made quick work of unzipping her dress and unbuttoning her blouse.

She sighed when you kissed her breasts and squeezed your hands around her waist and hips, taking her selfishly and finally spreading her legs and sitting her down in your lap.

“Are you…” you began between breaths, pausing to figure out your wording and sitting back in your seat to look at her. “Have you had sex?”

Wanda giggled, finding your question amusing. “Of course I have,” she replied and took your hands and placed them on her hips again.

“Cocky,” you jested, hooking your thumb under the clasp of her bra and releasing it so it snapped against her back, causing her to arch her body into you with a soft gasp. “Thought you might’ve been abstinent or something.”

“I don’t mean to be cocky,” she said in a low voice. “But I am certainly not abstinent.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Only if you choose to be.”

“I choose to be,” you said with conviction. “So for whom should I be jealous, then?”

“College students.”

You gasped superficially.

“You fuck college students? Exclusively?”

“No!” she laughed. “I mean I haven’t been very active since my time in college.”

“Haven’t had sex since college?”

She corrected, “I didn’t mean that either.”

“So what did you mean?”

“This conversation is like pulling teeth.”

“Why? You want me to fuck you hard against this floor right now, baby?” you asked. The very crudeness of your words, albeit teasing, made Wanda’s breath hitch, and so within that reaction you found her first tell. “No foreplay or anything?”

“This isn’t foreplay?”

“Hardly.”

“Then what is?” she asked though sounding slightly pouty about it.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re all turned on and impatient from just that. Teasing gets you off?” you pressed. “Didn’t even have to be told how I wanna see your gorgeous ass bruise when I fuck your cunt from behind like you’re my sick little fucktoy whore?”

Her hips twitched.

“Y/N…” she muttered, perhaps out of impatience or forewarning for how you were teasing her, either way you could not tell and weren’t very rushed in trying to figure it out.

You pulled her bra down and released one of her breasts, slapping it lightly with your fingers and causing her to gasp before pinching one of her sensitive pink buds.

There would be no indulging her past what you were willing to indulge; you were careful not to touch her more than what was intentional.

You bucked your hips up under the guise of adjusting your seating, grinding your stiff cock against the soaking panties which were now beginning to soak your pants.

Her cunt was sensitive beyond the thin fabric, causing the strap to rub her perfectly through her soft, swollen folds; you could practically hear how sticky she was without even looking.

“What is that?” she quickly asked, looking down between her thighs. She tried moving back to get a better look, but you quickly held onto her hip with your other hand and pulled her harshly back to her original position, making her throbbing clit rub directly onto your cock.

A strangled yelp was breathed past her lips.

“Don’t move unless I tell you to, you understand?” you told her.

She nodded.

“Everywhere else in this building, there is only one God, but here in this room, I am yours. You will listen to what I tell you and take what I give you, even if it hurts. You’ll be grateful that I make you hurt as much as you will when I give you pleasure.”

In spite of everything, Wanda repressed a tiny smile and said, “You’re scary when you’re authoritative with me.”

You laughed through your nose and replied, “I can get scarier.”

Her smile widened into a grin and Wanda’s hand came to the back of your neck when you leaned forward and kissed her, one arm circling around her waist and carefully slipping her off your lap as you stood from your seat.

“We’ll get caught,” she voiced concern against your lips.

“Then be the lookout.”

You made sure she didn’t trip on her way up to the podium, and soon you had her chest laid flat against the lectern and facing the front doors, the shadow of the large crucifix behind the both of you casted against the red carpet from the morning sun shining from behind the stained glass.

Wanda listened as you unzipped your pants and when she made an attempt to turn her head and look at what you were doing, you put your other hand against her upper back and pressed her back down, reducing her line of sight to your face and shoulder and nothing else.

Her clothed cunt was prodded at, the stiff tip of your strap finding her hole through her panties and nudging at it teasingly. She groaned impatiently and reached back to take hold of your hand, to grab onto anything and urge you forward.

In response, you spanked her harshly and made Wanda yelp out in surprise and wince.

“You dirty, impatient slut,” you spat.

She immediately whimpered, “I’m sorry, daddy.”

That satisfied something in you that you hadn’t even known you wanted, and you were more than happy to share in that satisfaction.

You hummed and tucked a finger under the waistband of Wanda’s panties, making her twitch impatiently while also doing her best to listen to her orders. Then you laid your hand flat against her lower back, rubbing her supportively and making a warm flush form across her face.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Wanda?” you asked, looking up her bent-over half-naked body to the back of her head.

She nodded.

“Good girl,” she confirmed with a nod.

Gently, you squeezed her ass and danced your fingers up to the waistband of her panties that you finally pulled down, exposing her gorgeous, glistening cunt.

It took just as much resistance from you not to shove your cock right into her as much as it took Wanda to not thrust her hips back and grind her clit against your strap.

“Why don’t you tell me all you’ve been studying about the last little while?” you said, running a hand down her ass and sliding a thumb into her pussy, feeling heaps of pride with the way you slipped inside with no resistance.

She was incredibly wet and so, so warm.

Distracted by the way your thumb probed shallowly at her hole, giving her just enough pleasure to make her throb but just short of enough to satisfy her entirely, it took Wanda a few moments to regain her focus before she finally asked, “S-Studying? About what?”

“You’re a smart girl, Wanda,” you encouraged, slowly sliding your thumb out and grazing the pad of it lightly over her swollen slit and across the hood of her clit. “Methods on how to be a proper nun. For example, swear yourself to the Lord, abstain from sex, so on and so forth.”

Wanda swallowed and tried her best to focus with the way your thumb began spreading her cunt out, revealing to you the glistening folds of her pussy. She began stuttering and finally squeezed her eyes shut hard enough to be able to recall some of her studies.

“Um, there was…” she uttered and ran her fingers along the edge of the wooden lectern, “living in modesty; not showing off one’s body in any crude manner, not partaking in pleasures of the flesh.”

Three of your fingers began rubbing slow circles against Wanda’s hole, squelching against her dripping cunt and making her tremble and moan shakily.

“And what next?” you asked.

“I-I can’t… Can’t focus…” she told you helplessly.

Your thumb flicked at her clit and Wanda’s body jerked forward.

“One more,” you urged. “Come on. Give me one more good one and I’ll fuck you with my cock. You want that, don’t you?”

Intentionally, you began to focus on her clit now, having your index finger graze it as your middle and ring finger slowly began delving in and out of her sticky hole, purposefully making it even more difficult for Wanda to find the words for herself.

“I want… I want that,” she shuddered, hanging her head and squeezed her eyes shut again.

“So, then, give me one more.”

Wanda’s breathing deepened as she tried her hardest to focus.

With every intention to make it more difficult for her, you reached up with your other hand and pulled her bra down, allowing you access to knead her breast and feel her nipple harden against the palm of your hand.

She whimpered into her arm and bit down on her bottom lip.

You stepped forward and removed your fingers from her cunt to rub the length of your strap through her pussy, wet fingers taking hold of its base and running it through her swollen folds.

“A-Ah, Y/N, please…” she mewled, though neither of you were quite sure whether she was begging for you to stop and allow her to think thoroughly or for you to have mercy on her completely and just fuck her.

“One more,” you reiterated and aligned the tip of your cock with her entrance.

You placed both hands on her hips and began pulling her backwards, fucking her shallowly and watching her pussy take your cock with just as much anticipation as Wanda was struggling to withhold.

She hugged around you beautifully and it was truly only the tip; you couldn’t wait another moment to fuck her until she was begging for you to fuck her until it hurt.

“A-Another,” she finally trembled out, “is to be, by nature, a woman of submission, to worship your God and seek no amount of personal domination over–”

Fully satisfied with her answer and terribly impatient yourself, your fingernails dug into Wanda’s hips and you jerked her ass back against you, forcing her to take your entire cock in one swift movement.

She cried out and you wrapped a hand around her waist, running your nails down her side and feeling an inexplicable need to mark her, to cause her pain, to reduce her to a whimpering trembling, bruised mess so cock-drunk that all she’d feel for the next three days is the aftermath of being rough-fucked like a slut.

“Hit me, please, daddy,” she begged, wrapping her fingers around the edge of the lectern and arching her back.

So you did — repeatedly.

You spanked Wanda over and over, having the sound of your palm meeting her ass echo through the room and only reiterating to the both of you how she was much less of a nun or a student or any reflection of purity, but a braindead nympho whore good for nothing but getting her pussy fucked raw.

She was a loud fuck, crying out in whimpers and moans and other strings of partially-comprehensible words telling you how good your cock felt and how much she loved getting fucked by you.

The playing organs and belting choir playing during the service muffled Wanda out, but Jesus Christ, if any of them out there had been able to hear her getting fucked down the hallway, they might just think for a moment that it was the calling of an angel or at least something in some way divine.

But none of them would ever know what it looked like to fuck Wanda from behind, pulling her up with their hand around her neck so you had access to slap her face and spit into her mouth like you could, pinching her clit and fucking her through to her third orgasm.

How beautiful she looked, sweaty and a mess with her long brown hair fanned out and stuck in strands against her back, crying out in equal parts pain and pleasure and finding herself incredibly pleased by being used like a filthy object.

And you’d make sure no one else could get the chance to see the sight but you.

“I’m gonna come again, Y/N,” she cried, breasts pressed against the cold wood of the lectern and arms pressed against her back. “This is my last, please, I can’t take anymore.”

You let go of her wrists and wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her from the lectern. She was arched at a slight angle so your arm could assist in continuing to fuck her, but she was now much closer, and she was now able to loll her head back against your shoulder.

“This is the closest thing a slut like you will ever get to heaven, angel,” you told her, kissing her temple. “Make your God proud and come on my cock, filthy bitch.”

Wanda reached back and held onto you for support while her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parting as a silent cry escaped her, her third and final orgasm coming over her without mercy.

You squeezed at her breast and leaned your head down and bit at her shoulder and up the back of her neck, getting in as many markings of your ownership as you could.

She sighed out and uttered your name, to which you ran your hands up her stomach, one hand moving up to her face and gently tilting her head over so you could kiss her lips.

Her knees buckled out and you carefully set her down on the floor before sitting down beside her. Wanda panted heavily into your chest, one hand on your knee and the other arm wrapped around your shoulder.

You had your arms around her waist, rubbing her back supportively and whispering in her ear words upon words of how beautiful she looked, how good she’d been for you, then soon confessing how much you’d been thinking of her over the last few weeks, how much of your mind she occupied and how much of your time you spent thinking of her.

Wanda liked hearing that last part most, but she particularly enjoyed when you told her how it felt to masturbate to her, to imagine her looking up at you and choking on your cock at your final point of release, and how really being with her was plenty more enjoyable and, quite frankly, more beautiful than you ever could’ve fantasised about on your own.

The both of you were on your knees, sweaty with the labour of sex and kneeling in each other’s arms at the foot of the towering crucifix, whispering and giggling to each other all the equally sweet and dirty confessions you could exchange before the service was over.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #elizabeth olsen #heliumknife

2K notes · View notes

alpaca-clouds · 7 months

Text

Let me talk about Mizrak

Yeah, this with all the entire Nocturne brainrot is going to continue for a couple more days at least. But the show has so many interesting themes and characters and I just love it so much. And after getting all my friends to watch the show, I got surprised by one of them being super angry about Mizrak.

Why? Well, because of the last scene with him and Olrox in the season and his words of: "You are just an animal that lost its soul centuries ago." And the friend considered that "being an asshole" and "cruel".

To which I say: Cruel? Yes. Asshole? No.

Let me explain.

First, let me make one thing clear: No, Mizrak is not a templar. I have seen that one too many times. He is not a templar. He is a monk knight of the order of St. John, so the Knights Hospitaller. Like the templars they were very much tied to the crusades originally, but they are not the same thing. There were a lot of orders and types of knights associated with the crusades. Templars were just one of them. (Do you guys wanna hear more about the templars? I can talk more about them.)

We know from bits and pieces of dialogue that Mizrak originates in Jerusalem (which is also where the order was founded). This is a gentle reminder: Israel as we know it today was not a thing back then. But Jerusalem was always a place of religious conflict as it holds importance in all three Abrahamic religions. Which was, what the crusades were all about after all. Before the time of the French Revolution, though, there was mostly some a conflict between the Ottomans and some Arab forces over Palestine. There were some Christian orders accepted within the city though.

Now, the Knights Hospitaller, who were accepted in Jerusalem, had a strong connection to France. Which... lead to problems, when some of the Arabs and the French got into problems. Which let to the Knights Hospitaller leaving for Malta. This too is referenced in the dialogue. (If you guys cannot tell: I am very happy with the amount of historical research put into this show!)

Mizrak looks to be in his early 30s. So I assume he entered the order in his mid-teens (which was a usual age to enter an order like that) and then probably left for Malta within a couple of years after that when the political situation got more charged. And then from Malta to France.

The Knights Hospitaller back then for all intent and purposes lived as militarized monks. That means they made vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. And this very much shines through with his character in so many scenes.

Of course we see that the entire "chastity" thing does not work out that well for him. But that is also why he clearly is shown to be conflicted about that entire thing. What he tries to uphold, though, is the obedience aspect of his vows. And that is, what his entire conflict is about.

See, what I love about this character is that there is all this delicious conflict.

I will iterate again: I grew up in a very, very conservative, strict, catholic household. Other kids got read fairytales for bedtime. My mother read me the bible. Priests and monks were people we intermingled with a lot. (Heck, the last pope? I met him when he was still a bishop.) And hence I got to make one very clear experience: There are three types of Catholics: Those, who focus on all the horrible things. Those, who focus on the literal stuff written in the bible. And those, who focus on the positive stuff. You know, the stuff with helping people, and being poor, and sharing, and being in general a good person. (Though the three types are not always mutually exclusive.)

And it is pretty clear that Mizrak is of the latter kind. He believes in the good he can do through his faith in God and Christ. But he has also grown up in an Order and a Church that puts a lot of focus on the idea of sin, on the idea of obedience, and the idea of the "natural order".

But there he is, with his Abbot collaborating with demons and vampires to enforce that "natural order", which among other things goes against their own vow of poverty. This is so clearly against Mizrak's believes. Because in his very core, Mizrak is a good fucking man. He is one of the good guys. Who wants to do good through his faith in God. And this conflicts for him.

So by the end of episode 7 he reached the point to go against his vow of obedience, because his faith in doing good was stronger, than his dedication to his vows. He very actively broke his vows in the eyes of his order, standing against his order, to protect those darn kids. Because it was the right thing to do. He is absolutely willing to do the noble sacrifice if that is what it takes to save those kids. And in comes that weird dude and takes this chance from him.

And his entire thing with Olrox... It seems very much that Mizrak is indeed gay. As the series so helpfully points out: Yeah, priests, monks, other clergy, and their vows of chastity were always a thing that rarely worked out. Again, as someone who grew up with close ties to the church: The fact that everyone is secretly fucking is... well known. As well as the fact that yeah, there are a lot of gay clergy. Mostly for the reason that they are shamed for their sexuality and then take the vows to not be tempted into homosexuality. Only to find that a priest school with a lot of other queer supressed men is exactly the place you do not want to be to not be tempted. (And that is all without going into all the non-con, pedophilia and what not. Things that were also already happening back then, I guarantee you.)

So, try to imagine that entire thing from Mizrak's perspective. There he is, already ashamed and suppressed about all of that and in comes this very, very seductive vampire man, who kinda seems to align with some of his values, but not with others. And who is emotionally unavailable as fuck, outright telling him that he does not love our dear Mizrak. Someone, who clearly is not for the vampires and your abbot, but also clearly not willing to take the other side. The side that you in your heart (even though it means standing against your order) know to be right. And this man, who claims to not love you, then comes in and tries to stop you from doing what is right.

Yeah, no fuck, Mizrak is a bit pissed at him. Especially as in that moment Olrox very clearly goes against Mizrak's ideals, that are all about self-sacrificially doing the right thing.

And I do think that Mizrak is right in one regard: Olrox lost his soul. He lost a part of himself. Through the trauma of colonialism, but he lost it never the less.

So, once more: Thanks the team for giving us another interesting, well-rounded religious character! CV already did so well with Isaac and Mizrak is sofar extremely promising in that regard.

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #castlevania nocturne #castlevania nocturne spoilers #castlevania mizrak #castlevania olrox #olrox x mizrak #mizrox

898 notes · View notes

fromxxthexxashes · 16 days

Text

Okay, this is kind of long, but just hear me out:

I keep seeing people say Eddie saying he ‘moves too fast’ seems out of character, but I don’t think I agree.

For one, he proposed to Shanon after she got pregnant, and when she came back in his life he immediately started sleeping with her and immediately moved to re-propose when he thought she was pregnant again.

With Ana, he did take things slower at first, but he did introduce her to Chris pretty quickly (at least I think so). Though, I will admit he didn’t introduce her without thinking about it because he did go to Bobby and Athena for advice. However, after he introduced Ana to Chris, they seemed to get a lot more serious fairly quickly. They hadn’t even said ‘I love you’ before Ana was stepping into this sort of ‘motherly’ role. After all, she was over at Eddie’s house cooking meals (ex: the dinner with/ Carla) and she looked after Chris for days during the blackout, when Abuela or Pepa could have helped out. Eddie described it as a “ready-made family”, which for me translates to ‘things went too fast and got way too serious before I knew it’. When he realized just how serious things were getting, he started panicking. She was enveloped enough in their life that Chris thought they would get married someday. And when the reality caught up to him that he was building this family unit with a woman he didn’t love, couldn’t love, it scared him and he broke it off.

Then he rushed things with M*risol and he freaked out again. The whole (admittedly stupid) nun storyline was there to show us that Eddie didn’t know anything about this woman (and that he has catholic guilt), yet he asked her to move in before he even said I love you. Why? Well, it goes back to Eddie’s age-old enemy: obligation.

For one, he feels obligated to have this permanent mother figure in Christopher’s life (and someone on here made a great post about how Eddie’s decision to ask M*risol to move in tied back to Chris’s storyline in 7x01 which I agree with with 100%). I also know that Eddie has never had a healthy romantic relationship in his life. He has never gotten with a woman without something pushing him to do it. With Shannon, it was a teen pregnancy and the church. With Ana, it was his (well-meaning) friends who pushed him to move on from Shannon. With M*risol, it was Pepa (with good intentions) who pushed him to start dating again, otherwise he might end up alone.

Marrying someone is something one does because one loves someone. Eddie proposed because he was afraid of what the church would think. Letting someone step into a mother-like role in a child’s life is something one does when one loves someone. Eddie did it because he was afraid he and Christopher were never going to be able to move on from Shannon. One asks someone to move in because they love them. Eddie did it because he was scared of having someone else walk out of his and Chris’s life.

Eddie has never followed his heart when it comes to his relationships with women. He has never dated someone casually before. He always tries to commit way before his heart is in it. He goes through these really long stints of being single, followed by relationships that do, admittedly, move really fast. He thinks he’s following his gut, but in truth, he’s following his misguided sense of duty.

The only time Eddie has made a serious commitment that wasn’t born out of obligation, was when he wrote Buck into his will. No one told him to do that. He did that because he wanted the best for Chris, sure, but more so because Eddie doesn’t trust anyone as much as he trusts Buck. And he did that knowing that his parents would disapprove. He did it despite his obligations to his blood family. Eddie followed his heart and tied himself and his son to Buck for the rest of their lives. (And notice how Buck has been a borderline co-parent to Chris for years, and that has never freaked Eddie out before)

So, yeah, I think he does move too fast in his relationships with women because he always takes serious steps before he develops serious feelings for these women. And he probably knows, deep down, that he’ll never be able to develop serious, romantic feelings for women. This is why he jumps into the deep end, because if he doesn’t, then he’ll never get there.

He has wants. He’s just not ready to acknowledge them yet. So, for now, he’ll just keep on doing what he feels he’s obligated to do.

#eddie diaz #911 #911 on abc #911 abc #christopher diaz #evan buck buckely #buddie #evan buckley #911 season 7

115 notes · View notes

puff0o0 · 21 days

Note

okok basically just wondering how tf141 would react/treat a religious s/o? I know they would be so understanding and sweet about it, I would love to those those thoughts written down 🤧

Hii!! I'm not religious so I tried to do research on the basics of every religion so it wasn't specified 😢 if there is a specific one you want, feel free to request it !! 🩷🌟

Gaz

☆ VERY UNDERSTANDING OF IT NO MATTER THE RELIGION.

☆ Like all the boys here, he would do anything and everything for you to make sure you were happy and content- if that meant buying you some stuff? sure. If it meant sitting there with you at a church or somewhere else? on his way

☆ There is nothing he wouldn't do and this is just added onto the list of stuff he would do. Like Ghost, he also does his research so he can understand everything about it. He also asks you so he can (hear your voice) learn more without having to factcheck the source

Ghost

☆ He kept it in mind, making sure to add it to his mental list of everything about you. He'll go to the places and sit there with you and buy stuff if you need it, he doesn't mind. I don't really see him as a religious guy, but he will gladly listen to you talk about yours

☆ As long as you're happy, he's happy

☆ He'll ask questions about it and even do his own research- he wants to understand and get to know every little thing about you after all

Soap

☆ Very understanding as he is catholic. He doesn't expect you to indulge in his stuff and he probably won't do the same for yours unless it's visiting a place weekly. He will gladly listen to you ramble or talk about it as he is open to learning more about other religions

☆ Anything you need him to do he's pretty much doing

☆ Like everyone else here, will buy stuff for you if you need it or will take you to the places you need to go and stay there with you

Price

☆ Very, very understanding. He will do pretty much anything with you if you ask him to. He doesn't mind doing it in the slightest and won't throw up much of a complaint unless he's really really tired, but then again, when is he too tired for you?

☆ Will listen to you when you explain your religion to him and won't mock you for it

☆ He'll even buy the stuff for you if you have anything necessary to have in your religion, he enjoys seeing you happy and making you smile

74 notes · View notes

katz-chow · 8 months

Note

Coming from puff puffs blog 🤧🤥 hope you don't mind 😝🙈🙉 ur also totally gaining a new follower..

WHAT ARE YOUR HEADCANONS ON SOAP? 🥰🥰🥰 unless you've already done this before then I am so sorry 😓

relationship with soap headcanons

warnings: sfw, fluff, some angst, relationship arguments, family trauma mentioned, religious trauma, homophobia, bad dad

a/n: my fav cod man is soap so this took my top priority!!! i think about this man a lot, 09 and reboot version. reboot is my fav though, realistically, he's who i would actually get with. here’s all the things i’ve thought about him, there’s probably more tbh… OK OK HERE :))

childhood hcs

johnny soap mactavish comes from a large family of 5 siblings, he's the second oldest. it's elsie, him, blair, callum, and olivia.

growing up in a family of mainly girls got him on that respect women juice. he would always have to make sure his younger siblings are ok and aren't you know, being bullied. his parents were adamant on 2 year age gaps between them all.

his cousin, jack, was an sas operator and that was what made him want to join. they had to call security forces to arrest him out at some point because he kept sneaking in to watch them do stuff lol

elsie left for uni with her bf to live in soho when johnny was 16, the same year he would talk to recruiters around his hometown, driving hours and then getting rejected the same day due to his age

9th grade (year 10) chemistry got him obsessed with stem and its *explosive* results. he aced chemistry and then took advanced chemistry and physics just because he loved it so much

after this, as soon as he turned 18, he went to sign his papers THEN graduated school (he's just like me fr). his mom was so worried for him, especially when her sister told her about the danger that jack would get himself into. in the end, he promised he'll always call her and his siblings

his dad's an ass, hes an alcoholic, a cheater, a *bitch*... he would always take the kids to church on sundays and twisted the religion into a reason for his behavior. claiming that johnny's mom being at home was just "their culture"

she makes a killer shepherd's pie though

always had had some sort of love-hate relationship with the catholic faith. on one hand, it was nice to know there's always at least someone watching out for him, but after hearing the constant belittlement from his father, claiming he wasn't "manly enough" for not willing to give his life up in the service, he started to resent the “all merciful”.

he ended up blaming god for all his faults, letting him take accountability. this especially happened when he got diagnosed with adhd when he was 17, his dad didn’t believe in mental health. his mom was only a bit better about it, they both refused meds for him.

he's bisexual, leans towards women though. found this out after a truth or dare game in junior year (year 12) and some beers in a closet

at one point, callum acccidently let it slip at dinner when johnny had first moved out that he had met a cute guy and their dad screamed and yelled at the whole family, especially their mom, about "raising a fucking whore of a son, dragging the family down to shite"

blair called and told johnny a few days later and johnny rushed his work as quickly as possible and begged his chain of command for a few days off to go back home to his family

his family gets loud…like really loud. there’s 7 people what do you expect?

it gets especially bad when it’s sunday morning and you gotta get 7 people awake and looking their church best for an hour and a half 😔

johnny is the quickest everything there is, which has its downsides too. he could run and swim the fastest in the family, but he was also the quickest eater…meaning he’s on dish washing duty. he’s quick at that too so by the time everyone’s finished, he’s washed all the other dishes that took to make dinner

broke his arm chasing a cat through someone’s yard (he was 14)

had a goat scream and kicked him because he wanted to give it a hug

he got a part time job at a local bakery in 10th grade (year 11). the pay wasn’t much but neither was the work really. olivia, who was 9 at the time, made him promise that he’ll get her a doll to have tea with. her tea set had 4 cups but only one of her, so she must get another one to join her! he kept his promise; he ended up getting three dolls for her

he can make amazing soda bread and brioche loafs now too, still keeps a starter from the owner of the bakery to this day

he had a mountain bicycle that he would take everywhere. had room behind his seat for packages and his backpack, which he would tie down. that thing had such a loud bell too, would ring constantly to “let people know hes coming and get ready”

was terrified of selkies for some reason, always had the window closed and made callum sleep by it while he slept by the door

wasn’t much of a troublemaker, but would get into trouble with his adventurous heart.

got lost in the woods once and after a while of fake courage, he sat down and cried until elsie found him. he was 20 yards (13 meters) away from the clearing 😭😭

laugh at that guys, mf was 15

personality & relationship hcs

johnny is such a fun lover. he’s handsome yeah, but what makes ppl flaunt over him is his humor. he’s what jessica rabbit said “he makes me laugh”

such a charismatic and charming person, gets it from his dad. he could talk about just about anything, also the type to strike up a conversation with a stranger at the grocery store. then end up with their number and a date or helping them dog sit

this isn’t always a good thing though, one time before he was medicated, he would talk on and on, his story becoming incoherent due to the amount of self-interruptions he made, that a group of guys got so annoyed at that pub, they punched him.

he was young, 19, and couldn’t fight, so he didn’t win and came back to the barracks with a nasty black eye

he likes to be the big spoon, has to hold something in order to sleep

feel like he’s the type to wrap his arms around a pillow and lay on his stomach to sleep

speaking of sleeping, he HATES sleeping with socks on. he tried it one day and he just shivered at the feel of it, woke up and his socks were missing (he found them under the bed)

i also feel like he sleeps like a log, unmoving once he finds his comfort, i also think it's because he had to sleep in the same bed as his siblings at one point and he didn't want to wake them by moving, so he got accustomed to being a still sleeper

one time he accidentally got into a fight at a bar when a guy kept being misogynistic and was arrested and kept in jail for the whole night until one of his civilian friends bailed him out

johnny's the type to race you in the rain to the car. again, he's quick so he's always ahead of you but then he slips from the rain and ends up all wet and muddy and in the car.

his favorite thing to do is hear you laugh. he'll do anything to hear you laugh.

whenever you're sad, he'll purposely stub his toe or trip down the stairs or make you kiss his "owie" (a papercut) to get you to cheer up. like yeah it hurts like a fucking bitch but seeing you sad hurts more than a silly tumble

number one date event is city exploring and hopping. like cafe hopping, pub hopping, museum hopping, restaurant hopping, anything that makes you get up and get going with time to sit and chill at the same time.

feels like he can eat a lot, he's the type to eat your food if you end up not liking it or being too full

when he gets home from missions and the initial excitement of seeing you dies down, he also dies down and nap for hours until it's the middle of the night and he gets up to eat something.

he loves naps. feels like he needs a nap time every day if it was possible

he's a very kind lover, he's easy going so its not hard that sometimes people take advantage of this and push his buttons until he can't take it anymore

causes a huge blowup because he can have a nasty temper whenever he bottles stuff up and pushes things aside

not a physical manifestation of anger, but definitely a verbal anger, will say things he doesn't really mean just to say it and realize right after the words leave his lips that he fucked up

but he'll stake out in front of the guest bedroom in which you've locked yourself in until you come out and he gets the chance to forgive you

the type to stand in the rain and hold a sign saying sorry right outside your window, a very cheesy romcom style (gaz made him watch them)

he loves you more than anything and loves you even more than you can keep up with him and laugh at his jokes, no matter how awful they are

he wants 4 kids by the way

180 notes · View notes

captain-mj · 1 year

Note

does selkie!soap know that ghost is a changeling? if not can we have him figure it out?

Yes! I absolutely fucking can! Continuation from this post

Soap looked at his husband, watching him carefully. Ghost had eaten twelve pancakes. Not eggos. Eggos would be reasonable. Twelve, full sized pancakes.

To be fair, Ghost had been the one cooking them, so it wasn’t that noticeable to anyone else. They all had large appetites. Big men, big muscles, bit metabolisms.

But Soap was watching Ghost make more for himself and he was clearly trying to make it seem like he hadn’t eaten that much. It was odd.

His husband. What a funny phrase to be able to use now. Anyway. His husband was odd.

He poured more syrup on his pancakes, he made chocolate chip for Soap, blueberry for Gaz, strawberry for Price and from the looks of it, plain for himself. Ghost ate in the kitchen, probably to keep them from seeing his face. It wasn’t unusual, but Soap couldn’t help but wonder how often Ghost was using it to hide his odd eating habits.

The next was simpler. Ghost’s gloves had torn. His hands looked normal but very pale.

“Guess you don’t get out in the sunlight much, huh LT?”

“Not really.” Ghost rubbed his hands together gently.

Soap tossed him again and turned away, only to hear it thunk against the floor. He looked backed to see Ghost just staring at it.

“I’ll stick to knives.”

“There’s a lot of people. I’d feel better if you have a gun.”

“Do you have one with a grip?”

“What? No.” Soap stared at him for a minute and Ghost relented. He picked the gun up and followed him.

It wasn’t until later that he finally got to put the gun down and Soap saw them. Everywhere the metal had touched his hands were burns. Severe ones. In parts, especially where he’d have it pressed hard to his palm, the skin had started to bubble and crack.

Ghost noticed him staring and dropped the gun. “Ironic. A sniper who can’t actually touch it. S’why I wear the gloves...”

“Ah...” Soap thought of the steel and therefore the iron in the gun. His whole not human theory was starting to make much more sense.

It was such an odd topic to bring up, but they were on it and Soap was determined to use it.

“Yeah, personally I grew up Roman Catholic. Got the baptism and everything.” According to his dad, who had laughed about it, his mom had begged him not to, worried it would kill Soap or make him human. According to his mom, his dad had jumped at the idea that baptism might make him human. It did neither of course. “What about you, LT?”

“My mom was Protestant, but I never was baptized. She stopped taking us before I was old enough to do it.”

“Why?”

Ghost paused, glancing around. No one was really focusing on them so he shrugged. Soap had noticed that although the bond effected him in the usual ways, the world revolving more around Ghost, him always being aware of Ghost, feeling Ghost’s presence around him at all times, yada, yada, it had also affected Ghost, which was interesting. It made him a little more open with Soap. Just Soap. If that sent a thrill through him, no one needed to know.

“My mom took me and Tommy every Sunday. My dad occasionally tagged along. One day, one of the patrons caught me stealing an extra piece of the communion bread. This lady made it fresh and it was fucking great. They told my dad and he hit me with a bible so hard it knocked me to the ground. Right in front of everyone. My mom stopped taking us to church after that.” Ghost told it all to him quietly. “I had liked going, even though I didn’t believe in it. Always felt insincere, but it made my mom happy.”

“Oh.” Soap stared. “How old were you?”

“I think I was seven.” Ghost hummed and looked away. “Never got baptized. Probably good thing. They always heated the holy water up.”

Soap prepared himself for the joke of “boiling the hell out of it” but after a moment he realized Ghost was sincere.

The holy water burned him.

Soap suddenly had a vague idea of what he was.

Soap had a heavy suspicion at this point. He had a feeling he knew exactly what Ghost was, so he decided to do a little experiment to see.

Before he left that morning, he turned his shirt inside out and then slipped his hoodie over it. The only exception being creatures that had to notice.

Ghost stared at him for a moment before he simply turned away and ignored him. Soap tried to get his attention and Ghost just wrinkled his nose and turned away from him.

Gaz gave them an odd look and Soap just smiled awkwardly before stepping away. He fixed his clothing and tried once again to strike up a conversation.

Immediately, Ghost actually talked to him. It was his usual rather quiet amount but it was definitely there.

“Why did you ignore me?”

“What are you talking about MacTavish?”

“Right now. You ignored me.”

“You weren’t talking to me a minute ago. You need to go to the medics?” Ghost seemed genuinely concerned.

“Nah, probably just dehydrated. I’ll go grab a drink.” He smiled at him and stepped away.

Gaz looked at him. “I think Ghost is going a tad crazy.”

“Nah, think he’s fucking with me.” Soap covered for him.

Gaz didn’t look like he believed him but he dropped it.

“Johnny, why are we on a secluded beach in the middle of the fucking night?” Ghost had followed him though. In his civvies, the soft hoodie and sweatpants clinging to all the right places. His mom didn’t warn him how bad marriage would feel at first. Or more, how bad one sided marriage would feel. He wanted to attack Ghost. Throw himself at him and claim his husband in every way he could.

“Simon. I need to talk to you about something.” Ghost turned towards him. Soap vaguely put the face he remembered from Los Almas over the ski mask. He was glad Ghost went with this instead of the plastic mask and balaclava. That day, the kohl makeup had run all the way down Ghost’s face, covering his cheeks and his nose. His hair was shaggy and curled oddly, sticking up all over the place. It had been shoved down as if to cover his ears and it felt in his eyes. Despite clearly being cut into a buzzcut recently, it looked like it hadn’t worked too well. Soap had wondered at the time if it had been unfinished and he had to rush it.

Now that he knew he was a changeling, it made more sense. Their hair tended to grow unnaturally fast and choppy.

“What do need to talk about Johnny?” Ghost seemed worried. He glanced at the coat around Soap’s shoulders.

“I... I know you’re not human.” Soap decided to start there.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Ghost laughed. There was a slightly bitter edge to it. “Oh, fuck off, Soap. You know, out of everyone, I never expected that shit from you.” He started to turn away from him.

“I’m not either.” Soap thought he was playing coy. It made sense, Soap would never admit it so easily and this Ghost. King of not saying shit about himself.

“MacTavish,” Ghost looked at him, “you may be experiencing psychosis. Sometimes men on the battlefield...” Soap stared at him, hearing him like he was muffled through more than just his mask.

Did Ghost... not know?

There was no way Ghost didn’t. He hid away all his oddities. Been so careful. There was no way he didn’t at least expect it.

“Have you ever heard of a selkie?” Soap interrupted.

“The seals that turn into humans. Yeah, I guess.”

“I need you to understand I’m not... I’m...” Soap sighed. “Just. I need you to trust me for a just a minute, okay?”

Ghost stared at him for a long while before nodding slightly. “Okay.”

Soap slowly slipped his coat off and then started to undress. He kept his eyes downcast, but he could feel Ghost’s eyes on him. Scanning over him with growing alarm.

Soap wrapped his coat around him before he shucked off his underwear.

“Johnny.” Ghost said softly and there was something there that Soap needed a lot more time to unpack.

“Trust me.” Soap said softly. “Just... could you turn around for a minute?”

“You’re willing to undress in front of me but not do... whatever you’re about to do?” Ghost sounded... amused. It made butterflies in his stomach.

“It’s unpleasant.” Soap said softly. Ghost finally turned around him.

His coat fused with his skin and the transformation was... unpleasant to look at it. His fur laced with him and he sorta fell to the ground, luckily able to muffle himself so it didn’t startle Ghost.

There he was. A harbor seal. He barked and Ghost turned around slowly, staring at him.

Ghost continued to stare. And continued. And stared.

Soap slowly rolled over to his expose his stomach. He couldn’t exactly talk, but his dogtags, which he had clearly been wearing, were around his neck now.

Ghost slowly moved closer, touching the chain and reading the name. He didn’t move, staying crouched over him.

Soap could see the ring of gold around his pupils again.

“Oh.” Ghost said softly.

The transformation back was much easier and faster. His snout seemed to wrinkle before splitting and he poked his head out, shaking his head. It looked like he had just had the coat over his face, but Ghost knew better.

“Take your mask off.” Soap muttered against him, the coat splitting down his chest to go back to a more coat like shape. His bare chest was out but he was smart enough to cover his lower half.

Ghost stared at him even longer and Soap knew for a fact he hadn’t blinked the entire time. He reached up and pulled Ghost’s mask off for him.

There was Simon.

Oh.

Oh God he’s incredibly hot.

Simon hadn’t put the make up on so Soap was treated to his freckles. They were... He sat up and grabbed Simon’s face who didn’t seem that surprised by it honestly.

They sparkled. They weren’t like a human’s at all. One, they were mostly shaped like stars instead of just dots and fleck. Two, they were a stunning gold color that reflected the moonlight.

Soap reached up and ran his hands through Ghost’s hair. It was just like before, spiky and uneven despite clearly being freshly trimmed. His ears were pointed like an elf, too severe to look normal.

“When the body modifications came out, I just blamed it on that...”

“Do you... know?” Soap spoke gently to him but he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. His husband was right here.

“No. I don’t... know. I didn’t even know there were other things like me. Thought I was just... wrong.”

“I think you may be a changeling.” Soap admitted. “I may have... tested it. A couple of times, trying to see if I could figure it out.”

Ghost glared at him and he went to take his mask back, but Soap stopped him. “Johnny... Please.”

“Simon.” Soap said softly, pulling him a little closer and Ghost finally slid to his knees instead of crouching. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Simon looked at him and suddenly stiffened. “When I took your coat.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t... You didn’t purposely do anything.” Soap reassured.

“But I did do something.”

Soap sighed. “This isn’t... the conversation I wanted to have tonight... What do you know about selkies?”

“Take their coat and you can control them. That’s it.”

“Pretty accurate. It’s a little more than just control though. When someone holds my coat, there’s an instinct under my skin. A desperation to please is the best way I can put it. It’s a survival tactic to keep from being punished according to my mom. You do what you can to keep your master happy so they don’t strike out at you.”

“Have you...” Simon was touching him now. Holding his face and putting his arm around him. “Been...”

“Twice. Once when I was 12 for two months and once when I was 17 until I turned 19. The first one was by a kid my age and it wasn’t... nothing happened. People usually get concerned.” Johnny smiled at him.

“And the other one?”

Johnny shook his head. “Another day. Please.”

“Another day.” Simon promised. “But what did I do?”

“You gave it back. The way you did it... You pick it back in my hands. You didn’t let me grab it.”

“Is that bad?”

“We’re married. Kinda. It’s not legally binding, of course. It can be ignored. Even broken.” Soap mumbled the last parts. It hurt. He’d like to blame it on his coat. That it was making him a little crazy. But he knew it wasn’t just that. The idea of being rejected by Ghost was... He cared a lot for Ghost and it had nothing to do with being not quite human.

Ghost was staring again. “Since the hospital. That was weeks ago.”

“Yeah. I suppose it was. Look, I can tell you how to break it.” Soap felt Ghost’s mouth on his and the arm pulled him closer, right against his broad chest.

“I haven’t been a very good husband to you.” Ghost joked, but there was a layer of stress underneath it.

Soap shrugged. “I haven’t been a very good bride.” He leaned in closer.

“Would you... like to be?”

“If you’d have me.”

Ghost huffed. “I’d be an idiot not to.”

“Good. Although, you are going to have to court me. My mom is not very impressed with you right now.” Soap got up.

“You talked about me to your mom?” Ghost was scrambling to get up and follow him.

“Of course. Had to tell her some Brit married me. She was worried.” He flashed him a smile and tossed him his mask.

“How the fuck do I court you?” Ghost tugged it on and followed him. He gathered up Soap’s clothes, watching him twirl around barefoot on the beach.

“Figure it out.”

“Can I have your mom’s number?”

“Why the fuck do you need that??”

“To ask her how! Also I want your mom to like me.”

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2 #Selkie Soap

473 notes · View notes

itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 5 months

Text

Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader) 6

A/N: God, I just replayed Måneskin The Loneliest on a 10-hour repeat while writing this. Some warning of language and hinted sexual wording, but more of the case it's just Alucard being mentally a teenager.

Summary: Teasing ensues, history is unlocked, and questions begin to be asked and answered.

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Follow the story on A03!

Chapter 6

“Let me help you with that.”

The vegetables from Alucard’s garden had flourished and it brought in bountiful meals for the both of you to share. The pantry had grown with a wide array of vegetables, fish and sometimes certain meats Alucard had gathered whilst hunting. It had become a routine for him to hunt and you to help when you could, and share mealtimes and cook with one another.

“Thank you.” He murmured, his fingers were in the dirt when he scooped out another carrot, gathering it into his basket whilst you helped pull another potato. Your hands would occasionally touch accidentally, mistaking one another for the root vegetable, laughing it awkwardly off.

Your days in the castle were dwindling, and you could not forget the promise Alucard had given to you. Sanctuary from the outside world would soon meet you, and you would have to find your way away from Wallachia. You didn’t want to think much of it, despite it being on your mind daily and when you went to sleep. Where would you go anyways? One that looked like you was very hard to find, especially with the rise of witches being burnt by the Catholic church.

Your spell studies came with ease the more you practised, tending to forget about sleep in the early hours of the night when Alucard came and reminded you that it was better to rest with a clear mind. But you knew it was for the best: whatever was out there, you had to be ready, no matter what.

“Spring will surely come.” You spoke after some time, gathering what was necessary and slowly making your way back inside the castle. The days had still been short, nights long and air chilled that you had to wrap closely with the necessary clothes Alucard had been nice to give you. “I look forward to the warmer weather.”

“I hope it brings new beginnings,” says Alucard, “Spring represents rebirth after all.”

You can tell he’s speaking about himself in some way, that there’s some part of him that wants to move past whatever had occurred with the twins, but you know there is something that slumbers deep within, dormant and not ready to resurface.

You also wish to tell him that your time with him is dwindling, to remind him that you will not be able to stay much longer due to your promise and that one hurts within you. No matter how rocky your beginnings were, you have grown fond of the Dhampir, and you’re worried there is something within Alucard that will be thankful to see you gone, to grow recluse once more.

“Perhaps you’ll be able to bring in new stock from nearby towns,” you suggest, but your words do not include you within them. Alucard seems quiet, though you notice that something lurks within his honey-coloured eyes. “I suppose bringing in new stock would help liven our food when we can stray away from soups.”

“Soups are very nutritious! It’s the perfect time to have them this time of year.”

“They are,” he chuckles softly, “only if you’re elderly or lacking teeth. Or both.”

You hear his playful tone, though you’re quick to tease him back, “Not something you can sink your teeth into?”

“I’m in no need to feed on blood,” he specifies, and you catch the glint of his sharp fangs when he speaks that keep you hypnotised to them. “It is not something that I need to give me constant substance.”

It makes sense why you haven’t seen him have a glass of red for dinner, more so just the regular kind or white that you both share. It does bring questions to flood your mind: if he doesn’t need blood and can eat regular food, does he still need it as if it’s a last-minute option?

Would you bite into my neck, or have you ever thought about doing so? You want to ask him, but the question remains glued in the back of your mind, forever locked there in case you offend him. You do not doubt that he would’ve ripped your throat out at your first encounter, though is it an occurring thought to him? Does he catch looking at your pulse from time to time? Does he look at your neck, hear your heartbeat and ponder the thought?

“It’s a good thing you’re only half then,” you grinned sheepishly, following into the kitchen to prep the vegetables for dinner. “Like how I am only part witch, not even one who found her true potential.”

“Half is better than nothing at all,” he adds, handing you the knife as he saunters off to the sink, grinning back at you with the smallest of smirks, “You’re still fully human and those vegetables need chopping, little witch.”

You groan which only brings both of you to laugh at the expense, “Yes, chef.”

When you find time before dinner and after chopping veg, you spend time in the library, practising to perfect the craft of astral projection. You're rather proud of yourself and don’t freak out as much as you did the first few times. You find you happen to do it more often in your sleep, floating just above your sleeping form as you float around your room. The first time you realise you can still study whilst in an astral form is game-changing: you can study at the desk, whilst not even feeling one bit exhausted from an entire night of reading.

You also find a spell that brings you to contemplate what right you should use on someone. You think you would do it to yourself one day, but the thought brings you to feel guilt more than anything else, especially if Alucard finds out. Instead, you keep it hidden under your pillow, ready one day you decide out of morbid curiosity.

When you’re not reading into the late hours of the night, you’re floating through the castle, like a ghost haunting the halls. You find the castle at night, in the depths of utter darkness are the most haunting, and you’re frightened by the darkened portraits that stare back at you as you go by.

You stick to the rooms you know, opting to float in the hallway as you contemplate if Alucard is still awake at this hour. His room is not far from you, but you always promise yourself you keep to his words and not venture in there, regardless if he’s in a state of consciousness or not.

It’s after dinner when Alucard hands you a cloak, his words gentle as he holds out a guiding hand to you. “I’d like to show you something.”

“Outside?” You say aloud, and Alucard chuckles lightly at your disbelief. “We won’t be attacked by night creatures, will we?”

“Not with me around.” He says, and you watch his longsword fling itself from one part of the castle into his holster. You’re thankful he has it to protect himself and you from whatever is out there, and also more thankful you don’t see it so often when you’re with him.

You both step out and the chill greets you and travels down your dress, making you quietly gasp, clinging to Alucard as if he’s the shield to keep you protected from all. You awkwardly step a bit further from him, but he does not say anything.

“What is out here that is of interest to you?” You ask though you would rather be indoors by the fire, rather than shivering into the night’s air.

Alucard doesn’t say anything as he leads you just beyond his garden, close to the forest but not too far that you cannot see the castle. He stops by a river, letting go of your hand as he turns back to you. “Wait here, the surprise is here.”

“Wait, where are you going?” You ask, and the fear heightens within you, like a tendril that gasps and pulls at your heart, making its way like icy death. He can’t be serious, can he? But from having known Alucard for nearly three weeks, in such a short amount of time, anything he’s said and meant, he’s been serious in doing.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he reassures, and his golden eyes seem to be glowing in the darkness of the trees. They are the only things you can see when your eyes are failing to adjust to the darkness. “I promise it to you.”

You believe him, he’s your only protection after all, and you sit by the river when you hear his figure leave, but you cannot hear him. You’re shivering either from the cold or fear alone, and the seconds feel like minutes the more you wait.

Your fear has spiked when you’re listening closely to the noises of the outside: of the water trickling, the crickets chirping, the wind that howls and the snapping of a twig close by

You jolt up, survival instincts kick in and you feel like a deer almost caught in a trap, eyes looking everywhere and anywhere they can seen within ten feet of you.

“Alucard?” You rasp, and you hug yourself more when you hear no response.

Oh fuck.

You’re trying to listen closely, but all sounds blend as one as you debate whether running back to the castle is your safest option. If it’s a night creature, you’re dead and you don’t think running from one would be beneficial to you, knowing full well that it could outrun you.

Would Alucard be able to run to catch up with you?

Whilst you’re debating what to do, something else catches your attention, and from just across where the river bends, you see something that has emerged from the bushes. Your body freezes, and you traverse to that time in your youth when you’re staring down those eyes, fangs flashing as you run as fast as your legs can carry you.

Your breathing has hitched as you take in the figure, and realise… it’s massive.

Despite the darkness, you see that its fur is white, its legs are powerful and could easily outrun you. It’s majestic, powerful and evermore agile and dangerous than any creature you’ve encountered. Your eyes trail up from its legs, up past its huge torso and up to its head, eyes staring back at you with the same inquisitiveness you had staring back at it.

Golden eyes that had engulfed the sun.

“Easy.” You say aloud, and the wolf doesn’t do anything but stare back, watching with as much hesitation as you show in your body language. You’re certain it’s not going to attack you: just from how its ears are pinned back and it's not snarling at you as a threat.

It’s only with the minutes ticking by, that you realise, oh, God, it’s approaching.

“Whoa, erm… stay back.” You warn, but it falls on deaf ears when it crosses the small path in the river, coming as close as it can towards you. Even whilst you sit on a slope, it’s towering over you, and you can only do is stare back into its eyes, soulful, wise eyes.

It takes two and two to be put together, and then you’re saying aloud, “Alucard?”

The wolf huffs as if to respond ‘finally’, slouching next to you, his large body slumping to rest against you, sniffing your hand before resuming to rest his head on your lap. You freeze, before your hands come up to experimentally run through his fur. You gasp in surprise, giggling to yourself as you gain the Dhampir’s attention.

“You never told me how soft you were.” You ran your hands just over his snout, above his brow line and in between his ears, which earns him to snort before he relaxes more into you. Your other hand is stroking down his back and across his broad chest, cooing to tease him further.

“Aww, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

Alucard – if at this moment was human – huffed in a moment to stop your antics, and you could only laugh knowing you had embarrassed him with your words. It wasn’t long before the Dhampir you knew was back in front of you, glaring at you with those familiar golden eyes.

“Very funny,” his cheeks are a pink hue but he’s thankful you can’t notice within the twilight. “You enjoyed that too much.”

“You’re cute as a wolf.” You add, and you erupt into laughter as Alucard covers his face, groaning from further humiliation.

“Oh, my God.” Alucard is rasping between laughs, his eyes glossy compared to the moonlight that shines above, “I’ll never hear the end of this.”

“Nope, you will now be called ‘little wolf’.”

“Oh, god, no.”

“Ooh, or how about ‘little pup’?”

“That’s even worse,” you’re laughing with one another and the atmosphere is lively and warm despite the chill that surrounds you. It feels as if you’ve known Alucard your entire life, and it’s just you two in the universe.

“How did you know you could do that?” You ask when you can finally speak again.

“It just happened one day,” he hummed. “My father has always been a powerful man, and the gifts he carried over his lifetime he shared through to me naturally. I think that day it happened, I gave my mother quite the fright.”

“I can imagine.” You laugh sadly. “It’s still amazing that The Dracula fell in love with a human woman. Dhampirs are a rare occurrence, some not living as long as you into adulthood.”

“It amazes me too,” Alucard agreed with the words as if it had been in his mind the moment he came into the world. “I suppose I was just lucky.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here though,” you add, trying to hide the way you blush from your compliment, though it hangs in indignity by your words. “I mean—here in this moment, not you know—"

“You’re lucky my parents… copulated?” He teases.

“Oh, God, Alucard, you’re not an eighty-year-old man. You can say use a more natural term for it.” You’re next to copy him by burying your face into your hands. You can’t believe you’re having this conversation with him in the first place!

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tongue-tied,” he eases, nudging your shoulder to look back at him. “It’s amusing.”

Your heart hammers in your chest and you shamelessly make out the shape of his lips in the twilight, the way they’re curved in a soft smile. Looking away before you’re caught, you’re certain he’s noticed but does not say anything.

He’s quick to change the subject, directing it to you this time. “Tell me more about your mother, what was her origin?”

You’re surprised, he’s never been one to ask about your origin, for you didn’t think it mattered. “Well, my mama was fairly young when she had me, I think around the age of sixteen. I didn’t know much about my father or who he was. Mama told me our people came from Cabo Branco in Africa. They were taken by the Portuguese and shipped to their land, where I assume some managed to find their way east, as far as Wallachia. My father, I assume, was fully Wallachian, though I don’t know what his relation was to my mother.”

Alucard listens attentively to your words, only asking questions when necessary. “Do you think… he kept her as his property?” He asks quietly.

“Perhaps,” you hug yourself, “she was young after all, relying on him for shelter and food, and I have no doubt he was the reason she fled with her life away from him.”

Alucard hums in thought. “You sisters… tell me about them.”

“Oh, they came from everywhere.” You seem a bit more comforted to talk about them, though you mourn them just as much as your mother. “Some were slaves, fleeing with their mothers, sisters and daughters. They established themselves in Wallachia a few centuries back, a powerful coven that had spread across Europe. But their numbers dwindled over time. Vampires and witches have never liked one another, and one day, one vampire decided he was to lead an army to dimmish their power, and their numbers. They were halved to what they were originally, further hiding themselves and isolating from the land in fears of being caught.”

Alucard’s words aren’t that smooth and soft, rather raspy and hoarse. “This vampire, was he-”

“Yes, your father, Dracula.”

“I… apologise,” he consoles, and it takes you by surprise. “I apologise on his behalf for what he did to your people. Many have suffered from my father’s hands, and yet, it feels odd to call him my father.”

“He was regardless of everything, Alucard, was your father.” You comforted, reaching to take his hand into yours. “Mourn the father he was, not the man he was known for.”

Alucard is taken aback by your words, and for a moment, you believe you will see him cry just from the softness of his eyes. “Thank you, it has taken some time to remember my father as what my mother saw him as. A scientist, a traveller, a loyal husband and father.”

The two of you sat in content for a moment, staring out at the river, listening to the calmness of the night. You could feel Alucard’s gaze fixated on you from the corner of your peripheral as if he wanted to confess something to you.

“My mother named me Adrian, for she did not like the name of Alucard used to compare me to Dracula.” He mused, squeezing your hand gently. “I’d very much like you to call me that too.”

Rouge reached your face as you nodded, knowing that you would keep your promise, despite the despair in your heart growing, knowing one day, you would never see him again.

“It’s a lovely name, Adrian.”

#alucard castlevania #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes #itstheendofthegoddamnworld writes #castlevania alucard x reader #reader is a witch #half black! reader #mixed race reader #part 6 #alternate universe #witch! reader #alucard x reader

116 notes · View notes

hellonerf · 1 month

Text

suicide is discouraged in the workplace

im not even gonna try to be coherent here. this is not an analysis post i am braindead. if i was a better artist makima wouldve been my muse when i was deep into chainsawman. actuallt she kind of was but i pussyed out

OK everyone here can subconsciously understand this connection. dont get too hung up on makima's strong motherhood theme and i just thought about what if ame was motherly and i couldn't kill myself right aftee thinking that as i have no means to it. that was a joke its late and im just me. i decided i wasnt a fan of motherly ame though so all suicidal thoughts erased. i am really chill now

old makima fanart i drew that im trying not to rip my hairs out over thinking about it with ame. also dont worry if this makes tou find my mainblog or main accounts whatever

actually theyre really different in many ways now that im looking at these. ame is so much of a son and makima is so much of a mother its like oppsoite spectrums. but thay makes the commonalities fun actuallt. i keep thinking about the movies and makima hating bad movies. ame is not an art kid by any means does he even care of the beauty of the world? i doubt it. but he likes bad movies and he likes cheap entertainment so who knows... they'd disagree on that. well i think makima's opinion on that was pretty extreme so i think most would disagree with her really

i could imagine ame going "Chainsawman. Doesn't spit." and smoking for the first time to look cool like in movies only to pathetically cough. thats their common trait... artifice... humans... but in a way that loops back to being Really Human i guess. holds a kind of arrogance and hubris that is so associated with humanity. it cant be anything else. ame should kill himself i think he should get moments of clarity and awareness and want to kill himself rqlly bad

both concepts of control. awesome. SUICIDE IS NOT ENDORSED IN THE WRKPLACE. ame goes to protestant church once or twice and sleeps because hes useless. makima is baptised and goes to local catholic churches not the cathedrals she supports the local christians.FUCK i just remembered the country mouse city mouse thing. ame is a liar and hates everything and loves everything and never feels content. i like to imagine him as a country mouse so fucking bad i want him to chill out one day and go to those middle of nowheres i know exist in america(can i shove cana in here and get away with it). why are they in the city if they are country mice? because..... you know..... you understand..... another w for eternal unhappiness (refer to title of this post)(suicide is discouraged in the workplace)

they are evil bosses i am the employee and when i ask for a break they gaze at me with a vacant stare and smile and i know in my heart they are viewing me like i am beneath them. i get scared and run away but truth is they didnt hear my request. they do not register individual people

if they met they would know immediately and viceversa. because everyone knows subconsciously because lying is futile and everything melts away. ame:i know a toxic boymom when i see one... okay im kidding makima is a toxic boymom if u push the chainsawman in ur head 🙂 ame as a kind of control devil works inmy head. i really believe ame was a polite child but demanding in many ways. sincerely wanting.

ame:gun devil i'll give you one year of the lifespans of the american people. in exchange i want you to kill makima—that is... the control devil (i never got around to drawing this)(ame and gun devil can you imagine)

or:gun devil i'll give you one year of the lifespans of the american people. in exchange i want you to kill alfred f jones—that is... the united states of america (paradox)

throughout all this i wanted to cite the best makima artist in the world ever but i'd feel bad if they wouldn't want to be associated with evil hetalia america blog. also i want to be normal and not cringe at being cringe just becayse i think makima was a thunderstrike of genius that i shouldn't taint. ame is a more flexible character to me for obvious reasons. this is how i'd shove ame into makima's role. but u couldn't put makima as ame. only one way. im okay with that. concept idea consensus words fear control blablabla u get the point i hate using words dont care sleepy now

#ame bible #hetalia & chainsawman #maybe this post disappears later i dont know

33 notes · View notes

catholic-character-tournament · 11 months

Text

Round 1 - Side A

Propaganda below ⬇️

Claude Frollo Propaganda:

This man got horny and his response was “that woman must burn”

I love him so much. More seriously Book Frollo is much more ambivalent than Disney Movie Frollo which makes sense because we're talking about Victor Hugo VS a children's movie. He didn't kill Quasimodo's mom, he took him in (when himself was only nineteen and already in charge of his own baby brother since their parents had died not long before) when he was left on the church's doorstep. I mean, he does quite a few reprehensible and slightly evil stuff afterwards but he had a good start, you know ? He taught Quasi to communicate by signs when he became deaf because of the bells. He was also very much into alchemy which was pretty cool. His behavior towards Esmeralda was still very much not okay but I'd like to point out that Phoebus is also a jerk in this one. And Quasi's quite a bit amoral because no intelligent enough to understand some stuff

I actually haven't gotten very far through the book yet but from the musical (not the disney one the other one it's SO GOOD) I can confirm he sucks at being catholic. literally tells a child over and over that he's ugly and unlovable until he fully believes it and won't let the kid go outside. https://genius.com/Alan-menken-out-there-lyrics (lyrics to the song in which frollo convinces quasimodo he's unlovable. ableist as hell and shitty in every way you can possibly imagine and it breaks my heart every time. feel free to listen to the actual track but it doesn’t get good until about 40 seconds in) frollo keeps saying it's good and right to punish sinners himself, and it's not right that the wicked go unpunished. there's a really satisfying moment in the musical where quasimodo sees him for what he is and repeats his words back to him (7:45 - 8:54, frollo is the one with the insanely deep voice) and it gives me goosebumps every time to hear that "yes you do" link to that video: https://youtu.be/HL7WZcTIgus

I honestly wrote this submission because I suffered from severe insomnia for being reminded that I might have poor taste when it comes to enjoying media since I enjoy Disney version of Frollo even after I watched other versions of this character. (I am so sorry the host yes I am that annoying anon lying in the dark little corner of your ask box. I have no other thing to do in my life so hello again) His character is different from the original novel version, and to be honest as an adoption, that is NOT necessarily WRONG. He had more struggles with his pride and his self-imagine in the Catholic framework. "Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man, of my virtue I am justly proud" as the opening line of his villain song, clearly states his main struggle throughout the movie--pride and self-imagine (super-ego) vs lust and instinct (id). Once his self-imagine in the Catholic framework was on shaking ground, he bent his twisted sense of "righteous" to make him less painful. Tbh, the novel version used the example of Bruno d’Ast to justify his hornyness, so it's just classical Frollo behaviour no matter which version it is. (SMASH THE TABLE) HAVE YOU READ~~THE NOVEL~~ I REPEAT: HIS CHARACTER IS NOT JUST "I HATE WITCHCRAFT AND I AM HORNY AND RACIST". I REPEAT: HIS CHARACTER IS NOT JUST "I HATE WITCHCRAFT AND I AM HORNY AND RACIST". I REPEAT: HIS CHARACTER IS NOT JUST "I HATE WITCHCRAFT AND I AM HORNY AND RACIST". I am sorry for the noise pollution in your submission Google form. I should have taken my sedatives regularly. I am truly sorry. Also please don't bully me in the debate, novel/musical enjoyers. LOOK, I AIN'T YOUR ENEMY. I LOVE NOVEL/MUSICAL FROLLO, I JUST LOVE DISNEY VERSION AS WELL, I AM AS TORMENTED AS YOUR FAVORITE CATHOLIC PRIEST. I am not a native tongue, so I tried my best to express my thoughts/feelings/justification why Disney version should be a qualified candidate as well. If you tried to debate with me, I would be drowned in my poor English. Sorry again.

Javert Propaganda:

His whole deal is like, “can someone still be good even if they’ve broken the law? Can you still be godly if you’re a felon” He really believes that by upholding the law, he is absolutely in the moral right all the time. And when he realizes that’s not true, it absolutely destroys him

he is the law and the law is not mocked <3 he is also. so gay. i'm sorry i refuse to believe you're even a little heterosexual if you chase jean valjean for like over 20 years for breaking parole and/or bread theft and recognise him by his muscles and have a major moral crisis as soon as he's nice to you one (1) time also he gets called out by a child that one time?? that was fun ALSO HE UHH???? THINKS HE SCREWED UP ONE TIME AND LIKE. ASKS HIS BOSS TO FIRE HIM???? (the boss is valjean he doesn't know that yet dw abt it) also uh uhm. he jumps into a river,,,, but before he does that he feels the need to put his hat on the fence nearby so it doesn't get wet lmao he's so silly goofy <3333

#les miserables #cct polls #the hunchback of notre dame #hunchback musical #claude frollo #judge claude frollo #inspector javert #victor hugo #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #tumblr tournament

238 notes · View notes

seakicker · 1 year

Note

hi. please excuse me.if this is absolutely batshit but im penis delirious at 2:26am rn. also this is based off christian/catholic practices bc im traumatized but horny ...SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I DIDNT EXPCT THIS (tags: church/cult mentions, a lot of praise, lots of creampies)

im imagining priest!childe doing his whole sermon with his cult of followers. maybe zhongli attends bc he's curious abt the whole commotion his friend was making abt "how great it is to be a god" which ... lmao

theres not much special abt childe's cult. typical propaganda, fear mongering, and ego-stroking — the usual. but when he breaks the bread and says to "take this, all of you, and eat of it," zhongli cant believe what he sees.

you, a sacrifice. clearly inexperienced, very cute. laid out on the pedestal and being absolutely ruined by childe. singing to the high heavens and praising the tsaritsa — praising childe as your god. he's nothing but an attentive lover, giving such a sweet little thing kisses and soft praises.

it isn't long until the pleasure is too much for him, and he forces his hips to go as deep as he can go. not long either until the rest of the servers come to take their fill as well. as soon as childe gave his permission, you're overwhelmed by all the hands grabbing at every part of your body. they all give you the same tender and loving attention. whispers of how good you're being and how good you feel; it's all that can be heard among the wet, fervent slapping of skin against skin.

as all the churchgoers come together to partake in your body, childe strolls over to his friend, still sitting in the same corner. "what's the matter? you never been to a sermon like this before?" it takes zhongli a lot of willpower to break his sight away from you, begging and moaning so beautifully. taking so much and thanking them too, fuck you're so— he shakes his head. "no, i can't say i have."

the ginger pushes him forward, saying something vague about "keeping up the tradition!" so zhongli has no choice but to step up, now that so many eyes were drawn to him because of childe's loud mouth. but as he steps up to the pedestal, and he's welcomed by you, smiling and reaching your arms out to him in an embrace — still looking divine even when you're fucked stupid — he slowly comes to understand.

as he pushes into you and hears you croon just for him, moan his name in that voice, wrap your arms around him like he's the only one that matters to you — oh celestia guide him.

with each second he spends with you, and each load he forces deep inside you, he feels himself grow more and more greedy. it's now that he understands, maybe childe was right.

it feels great to be a god.

this was absolutely INCREDIBLE from start to finish and really stroked my cult kink LOL i love the idea of sex cults and i love gangbangs. lord

afab + gn reader, religious/cultish themes, group sex/exhibitionism, childe is delusional of course, and moral degradation on zhongli's part below!

i like to imagine that childe doesn't even view himself as a cult leader nor his followers as members of a cult. cult has such a... harsh connotation, he says. it's such a dirty term used primarily to insist that a group is irrational, unreasonable, or otherwise out-of-touch with norms and reality— he explains that cults are groups where followers are robbed of their individual agency and autonomy, and childe encourages nothing but free decision-making and public discourse here. in his mind, this is what religion should be— a joint, equally-profitable give-and-take between sacrifice and slayer; he explains to zhongli that this is what you chose for yourself! you're a willing participant, not a terrified, trembling, horrified little lamb he kidnapped from somewhere and forced this life upon. this isn't cult activity; cult activity is inherently a violation of individual freedom and cause for alarm, and this setting constitutes neither of those things.

no, no. not at all. this is what you want.

such is a fact that childe was easily able to deduce and subsequently explain to everyone, both to zhongli and to the group of worshippers eager to partake in your body once childe gives them permission to do so (because the priest gets first dibs, of course.) obviously any outsider with half an ounce of sensibility that childe's, ah, group is the textbook definition of a cult, but he won't take too kindly to anyone that dares call it such. is he not helping you and others find the path to the tsaritsa's salvation? how could what he's doing be considered cultish when it's all for the betterment of both the individual and larger society? cults are manmade anyhow, and childe views himself as a being closer to the tsaritsa than to the common man these days.

childe eases zhongli's suspicions with relative brevity. he's smart enough to deduce that something is very, very wrong upon walking into childe's private quarters for such rituals, but even he has to admit that it's hard to truly view this setup as wrong when you're so... willing. you're not in distress, you're not being forced to take childe's cock, you don't cry or sob or wail in pain as he eases thick inch after inch of himself into your pussy, and you don't protest when childe finally gives the rest of the group the word to come and eat their fill as well. you giggle and moan when the worshippers' hands grope at your soft breasts and hips, dip between your legs to help push childe's cum back inside of you, and reverently run across your body with all the gentleness of a human petting a trembling animal. if this is truly what you want, far be it from within zhongli's right to put a stop to it; you're happy, childe's happy, the worshippers are happy... and all that's left is to ensure zhongli's happy as well.

when in snezhnaya, do as snezhnayans do— and so zhongli figures there's no time like the present to enjoy and study his friend's customs.

#honest to god i would love to make this a full fic sometime #as long as you give me permission to use your idea for a fic of course!#cw exhibitionism #cw religion #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #priest childe #tartaglia x reader #juju bakery

411 notes · View notes

oksurethisismyname · 1 month

Text

Hiiiii as a queer person living in the Bible Belt of the USA, I’m envisioning a “Christian trauma AU / general theology AU” because you know my main focus is always Sanji. This assumed that we’re in the USA, modern era, and I guess maybe a college or post grad AU for how they meet each other? This is a lonnnnnnnng text post so scroll at your own risk. To keep it from being toooo long I’m also sticking to east blue crew.

Hear me out:

There are a million different sects of Christianity so we’ve got a ton of angles to use.

Garp is catholic (but think FRENCH laïcité instead of American Amy Coney Barret Supreme Court justice weird catholic cult), Dragon straight up rebels against the strict structure and goes about his atheist ways. Neither of them really raise Luffy anyway so 💁🏻

Luffy ends up being agnostic. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in a higher power but he knows he needs to take action and that he can’t rely on a higher power to fix the problems of the world. Very Albert Camus, revolting against the absurd and holding himself to a higher responsibility in life

Zoro comes from a Shinto or Buddhist background. He’s not judging anyone’s religious beliefs unless they’re harming others.

Nami has religious trauma from the Baptist church that set up in her town and made it impossible to be herself. Belle Mere is so clearly queer and she’s harassed and dies at the hands of some zealous bigots who were emboldened by the words of the local Baptist church pastor (Arlong)

Ussop comes from a chill Protestant background (maybe Presbyterian?) But he’s more of a CEO (Christmas Easter Only) in terms of actually attending any sort of church. Honestly, with his dad out of the picture and his mom dying, he just had bigger things on his mind like living every day.

Finally, Sanji. Oh boy, Sanji has major “Quiverfull movement Christian” trauma from Judge. For those who don’t know, quiverfull is a Christian extremist movement where the idea is to have as many kids as possible and adhere to very strict purity rules and gender roles. Contraception isn’t allowed. Women wear long skirts and non fitted shirts to hide their womanly form (ew), and most of the time these parents homeschool there kids to avoid the “temptation” or “impurity” of modern society.

Judge had these 5 kids who he’s raised in this faith but Sanji never liked how Judge treated his mom. Why was Sora supposed to be “seen and not heard?” Why was it ok for his brothers to use scripture to bully and hurt and spread hate? Why would a loving god create women just to subjugate them? Judge wouldn’t like this, and once Sora passes away (probably because Judge wouldn’t let her seek medical care post birth of the quadruplets, so her health deteriorated for years), Judge locks him up and makes him do all sorts of horrible “prayer” and “repentance” practices, which are really just abuse.

Sanji would maybe escape when they go into town to get something mundane like a printer or a new wifi router (which only judge is allowed to use the internet). He’d probably bolt first chance he gets and when he meets Zeff, Zeff can recognize the signals of abuse. He takes Sanji in and even though Sanji never believed women were less than men, he still has years of trauma and gender roles beaten into him that he has to unpack.

His choice to cook? That’s a huge rebellion. Wearing tight fitting suits that look sinful? That’s a middle finger to his dad. He always treats women like goddesses because he feels so much guilt for the sins of his father. When he finally joins the Strawhats, he’s so overwhelmed with how free and nonjudgmental they are (of important stuff, obviously they’ll still poke fun at small stuff) that he feels comfortable dropping little comments here and there, opening up.

Ussop will be comforting Nami about something and sanji will tell him is so refreshing to see a man be so nurturing. He goes to Ussop often, asking how he’s so confident sharing his emotions.

Nami will be ordering them around and he’ll do everything she says with a smile, just happy to see her free to do what she wants (which is be a bossy bitch)

Zoro will talk about Kuina one night and Sanji will sob, overwhelmed with joy that she got to have all that strength and a friend like zoro even when faced with hurtful gender expectations.

Luffy above all is the most jarring for him. He grew up hearing about sin and sinners and temptation and evil but when he sees Luffy doing his thing, taking down bad people, fighting for the underdog, he knows that if there is a God (he she it they? Who cares), Luffy is doing their work.

——————

Bonus Gay Cherry on top is that Sanji meets Iva and gets into drag, starts performing, does some events, and through that gender liberation is able to find some peace in who he is, tucking away all the hate he was born into. And he ends up with zoro the end bye

#too long don’t read #one piece christian trauma au???#east blue crew au text post #black leg sanji #monkey d luffy #east blue crew #one piece #text post #cat burglar nami #god usopp #sanji #roronoa zoro

26 notes · View notes

profanepurity · 1 year

Note

Wait what was that about Terzo and Copia pretending to be catholic priests again. Its sounds so entertaining I need to hear that entire story (and also what were the rumors about the ex-nun were about, is the nun sister Natalia)

There was an abrupt, urgent knocking at the doors one night, a young, Catholic nun stood before Cardinal Copia, the one who answered, stunned by the glittering tears in her eyes and the moonlight touching her wet cheeks. Bewitching. She mistook the church to be another sister monastery in her desperation and distress for help. A great evil had fallen upon her blessed little community. And much worse, her dear friend, Sister Velena, has been possessed by something evil, and is being held in the levels below their monastery. None of their priests seem to be able to exercise the demon, yet refuse to seek outside aid. Hearing the desperation in her sweet voice, seeing the way Natalia looked at him with so much earnest, coming to him in fear and with nothing but good intentions, how could he refuse her?

But this was not a holy place, and the Cardinal was no priest.

"... I might be able to help you, Sorella."

When you pull up to a Pizza Hut and try to order a Big Mac.

I am so sorry, this has been sitting in my inbox for a hot minute! I cannot wait to show you guys what goes down with this little scenario, but it's honestly such a big plot point that it needs to be in multiple parts. So, here's the first page for now 🖤

I hope you guys are liking the mix between writing and drawing. I feel like that's the only way I am able to really show emotion and gravity at max level with this. Let me know!

And to answer your question, yes, the ex-Catholic nun is Sister Natalia! This little story is going to show how she converted to the church, as well as introduce how some other characters, canon and oc, came into this au.

I'll hopefully have this updated weekly (I say that lightly), I don't want this to be TOO many parts. We're going to aim for like three parts lol, but this is just the intro- think of this as part 0.

Feat. Fettuccini on Copia's shoulder begging her daddy to say yes to the pretty lady at the door so she can have a mom.

246 notes · View notes

eddiemunsonhotgf · 2 years

Note

oooh you should write perv!eddie convincing innocent catholic!reader to sneak out of church to see him.

u dnt know how much i think ab this on the daily. i feel like he wnts to take things slow at first ! and thats how he first starts to corrupt you :(

you refuse at first, being the obedient girl you are. god was the most important thing to you and you could never imagine yourself doing such thing. let's say it's sunday. birds chirp, its sunny, its god's day ! as you were getting ready for church, braiding your hair adding two little bows at the end of each one, moisturising your body, putting on your knee high with your most precious skimpy sundress, you hear a knock on your window. you immediately recognise who's pattern it is, it's eddie's.

you exhilarate. not really expecting him there. he did this way more often than your parents would like, although they never knew what was going on upstairs. nothing impure ! of course !

"eddie!" the excitement could be heard from how you said his name, making a little jump once you see his pretty face :( he melted at how adorable you were all the time.

"hello, doll- what's up with all of these?" he asks grabbing one of your braids curiously, confused look on his face. not really knowing why you were getting all dressed up.

"how can you forget! 'ts god's day, eds! need to get ready for church."

"oh.." eddie mutters.

he stayed silent all the time. he wanted to offer you a plan, not really sure if you would be into it. he knew you were super obedient and could not go really further w you cuz he knows how hard your parents r w u :( so he builds up enough courage n says: "how about you sneak out of church for me today? would you do such thing for me, angel?"

"eds, u kno i cant do that!" you feel rly bad rejecting people in general, you dont enjoy saying no :( even less if its to eddie's big bright puppy eyes !

"com'on! just for today! i'm just asking you sneak out for 10 mins. i'll be out of church waiting for you. what do u think, doll?"

you think. maybe it wasn't a bad idea ! u were being such a good best friend

"hm! okie. but just for 10 mins, okei? just 10 mins." you felt incredibly guilty for this. you were devoted to god ! how could you be interposing his visit to some metal boy in your town !

i also feel like he would take advantage of you sneaking out of church by making another move on you. taking things further. he would definitely give u ur first kiss out there ! so thrilled about the idea of slowly corrupting you and doing it outside a holy place :>

#perv!eddie #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #innocent!catholic!reader #joseph quinn #innocent!reader #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things smut #polly's mail💌

436 notes · View notes

wh4re4marvel · 2 years

Text

Pray for forgiveness.

(not my gif)

A/N: Sorry I’ve been gone so long. This was supposed to be up in March but life got, very life… Anyways here it is now, please enjoy. As always READ THE WARNINGS, and MINORS DNI, my work is strictly always 18+ and I’m also not responsible for anyone’s content consumption. Also, unrealistic but reader is 20+ in a private catholic college.

Summary:

A night out with friends after school leaves you tumbling the street of Hell's kitchen alone. Still in your shit school girl uniform brings the pervs out from the dark alleys, and the one and only hero Daredevil comes to your rescue. Now semi-sobered up, the masked man is now the reason your heart is pounding, and he can hear it. He can smell what he's doing to you just by being in your presence. He's just going to take you somewhere private, to protect you of course. Your teasing makes things take a bit of a turn, and Matt takes you in the one place he never thought he'd do such a thing. A church.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word Count: 2,600+

Warnings: Smut, p in v, dirty talk, religious talk and symbolism, mature actions in a church, hair pulling, choking, heightened senses, no protection, legal age gap, pet names, lots of dirty talk

You hiccuped stumbling the streets of Hell's Kitchen. A drunken smile plastered on your lips that didn't seem to leave as you thought about home. Missing your comfortable bed. Getting drinks with friends was fun, and easy because no one seems to care about an ID if you show some cleavage. Of course the shitty clerk wanted a number though. They always do.

If the man just glanced at the patch on your button up shirt he'd notice it literally said Saint Mary's Private School. However, he couldn't even maintain eye contact so what's the shocker?

Loud whistles startled you from your thoughts, looking left and right you figured they were for something or someone else. So you kept on moving, until the whistling started again. Yelling from behind you could be heard from miles. "Hey pretty girl, you lost?" "Need a ride home?" Those were the only two things you could fully make out. "Oh- I'm okay I'm going home." You tried your best to seem sober and get ready to run if they got any closer. "Saint Mary's hm? Do they know their students stay out past curfew to drink?" The tallest spoke up and moved closer. You stepped back slowly, with every step he took near. "I-I'm not- uhm..." your words got away from you. What did he even expect as a response? I mean come on...

"Ah it's alright. This can be all of our secret. How about you come with me and we get some more drinks?" He seemed to be the leader, radiating confidence. Panic set in and before you knew it, bam flat on your ass. You were so upset with yourself and embarrassed. Horror movie mistake right here. Dumb girl tripping not even a minute in.

Before you could scold yourself more, the street light above you went out with a crash. Like a rock was thrown at it, and it became nearly pitch black. The light wasn't doing much already. You screamed as arms scooped you up. A hand clamped over your mouth, and you were being carried bridle style. Being ran with in someone's arms. You began to thrash and fight him off with your life. A thud was heard and you were back on your ass with a thud.

"Hey hey hey, calm down, I'm daredevil. There were a lot of them, so I thought just getting you out of there was best. Are you okay?" The man with a black mask on his head asked. It looked like a scarf. "Sorry, y-yeah." You were catching your breath when you took the time to see who saved you. How his shirt hugged him, how deep his voice was, how plump his lips were. How could you be thinking about that at a time like this?

Matt heard your heart race and was worried. What could be wrong? "Are you hurt at all?" He asked trying to figure out what the problem was. "Oh- uhm no. I think I maybe scraped my legs a bit but it's nothing." You were fumbling over your words and tense, that's when it hit him.

The sweet smell of your aching cunt, your thin panties and short skirt not doing much to contain your excitement. "They're still around, looking for us. Should be gone in half an hour at the most." He explained, trying to focus his senses elsewhere. "Okay, t-thank you so much. You really don't have to stay, you've done s-so much already." God you hoped he'd stay... "I rather be safe than sorry. It's no problem at all." While he was ready to sit in a comfortable silence, you were rather bored and interested. "What's your name Mr. Daredevil?" You asked, fidgeting with your skirt. He chuckled, "now why would I tell you that?" The slight shake of his head made you smile. "Was worth a shot. I'm Y/N." You giggled a bit, that lingering alcohol made you more confident, hoping to see under that mask by the end of the night.

"Well Y/N what are you doing out at this time of night all alone?" The tone was taunting. It made your cheeks heat up and smile grow, glad he likely couldn't see you with the thick layer of black cloth over his eyes. He could hear your heart beat quicken as the smell of your dripping cunt ever so lightly hit his sense of smell again. He inhaled deeper through his nose, desperate for more of that sweet sweet smell between your thighs, he could almost taste it. Fuck he really wanted to taste you...

"Was with friends, then poof, I was all alone, but now I'm alone with you sir." Something about the way you said the last word made his already semi hard cock throb in his pants.

"Sir? You're catholic aren't you kitten?" He asked and the nickname made your brows raise and cunt ache. The masked man seemed to notice as he smirked. Cocky bastard.

"Born and raised in the church, never missed a sunday, I'm a really good girl sir." Absolute filth. You attempted to sound as innocent as possible, but the intention behind your words was clear as seduction was thickly laced in your tone. "I'm having some trouble believing that." You admired his smile as the words fell from his lips. You furrowed your eyebrows, lips in a pout. "What's so hard to believe?" Your tone was playfully hurt, he could hear the smile in your voice.

"Well, for starters, something tells me good catholic girls aren't roaming the streets in hardly any clothing and drunk on a Saturday Night, and honey the way I can smell how wet your sweet little pussy is, now that's just sinful." He was standing before you now. Head tilting as he stood above you, smirk plastered on his lips still. Not faltering for a single moment,

"Cat got your tongue kitten? Then let me give your pretty little mouth something to do." You bit your lip harshly in excitement and overwhelming nerves as the masked man undid his pants.

Minutes into him fucking your mouth and you were an absolute train wreck. Body shaking, thighs drenched with your slick, no time like the present to ovulate I guess. Your eyes were puffy from how much crying you've been doing, mouth painfully aching as it stretches to take all of what he's giving you, your nose smashing into his pelvic bone again and again, hair tangled in his rough hands and your angelic whimpers and gags as you take him so well.

"Such a good girl, you were right. Taking me so well." He groaned and you were in absolute awe, everything about me this man absolutely mouth watering. Down to his core he was sinful. The way he smelled even was lustful. He had to have been sent by the Devil himself, with the way he was built like an absolute perfect God.

Before he finished in your mouth he pulled you off, your spit coating him and running down your chin. He tugged on your jaw, pulling you to your feet slowly. Your shaky legs almost giving in.

"Want me to fuck you pretty girl?" He purred, one hand gently around your throat as the other slid up your skirt, feeling how wet you really were. "Use your words." The demand rather present in his tone. It felt as if something was blocking your words from leaving your lips, you were scared. No guy your age had made you feel anywhere close to this good and he's hardly touched you.

"That's alright, I'll get you rambling again kitten." Before you could ask what he meant, his fingers slid past the thin lacy drenched material of your panties, rubbing your wetness all along your folds as his middle finger ran up and down the slit of your eager pussy.

"So wet all for me? Bet you'd worship me huh? Already at a loss for words and I'm barely putting my finger tips on you sweet girl." Every word was taunting and left you beyond flustered, not to mention so incredibly horny. "Please." The word fell from your lips pathetically, you just wanted him so bad. No idea how much longer you can handle any of his teasing. Your eyes already beginning to water as you clench around nothing for probably the hundredth time.

"Please what?" Then his fingers left you completely and you swear you've never felt so ruined. Beyond pathetic you began to babble pleas and whining for the complete stranger in front of you. Matt wanted to take his time with you, something so fragile, naive, helpless, sweet and angelic. He could practically hear that cross chain necklace around your neck. If only God could see his little saint now.

“Please fuck me sir.” You whined, desperate for some contact or anything from him. Hell if he kept talking the way he did, while looking the way he did, you could definitely just make a mess in your panties from that alone.

As soon as the words left your mouth, he knew he lost control. Grabbing you by your hair, dragging you to the altar of the church. You had forgotten where the two of you were. Committing such sinful acts in such a holy place. You felt so dirty, your stomach slightly sinking but just for a moment before the devil himself tossed you onto the floor in front of wooden altar. A bible not even a foot away from where your knees landed.

“Pray.”

You must have misheard him, he’s kidding. You let out a nervous chuckle and turned to face him. His face unreadable especially with his eyes being covered. He didn’t seem to be joking though.

“You want to be fucked don’t you? Pray for it, and pray for forgiveness for making me have to deal with you being an absolute slut and taking care of your needs in a church of all places like the whore you are.” The harsh words sunk in, stinging a bit, but your body reacted much differently. Pussy flooding, dripping down your thighs and clenching, aching around nothing at his filthy words.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, otherwise I won’t fuck you kitten. And we both don’t want that now do we? Make sure to use your words this time.” The voice you heard was different from the same one that initially saved you earlier tonight. Deeper, darker and so full of pure lust.

“Yes sir.” You eagerly responded, so desperate for the man before you. You interlocked your fingers, bowing your head, with closed eyes you began to pray. Shame and guilt nowhere to be found as your hormones consumed you.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, please forgive me for I have sinned, and am about to continue to do so.” As you spoke, he began to pull you to your feet, making you pause. “Don’t stop, make sure you pray for me too kitten.” He purred in your ear, bending you over the altar. Your eyes widening as you felt him flip up your skirt. Not wanting him to stop though, you continued.

“Forgive us both for the sins we are about to commit, and how badly I want it. I need it.” The cold air against your pussy as he pulled your panties to the side made you gasp. Without warning, he pushed into you slowly making you dig your nails into the wood your face was being pressed into, one of his hands arching your back to his liking as he semi forced himself in. Regardless of how absolutely filthily wet you were, he was just too big to fit in with ease, but he’d make it fit.

“Say Amen now baby.” He demanded, sliding in and out extraordinarily slow. As soon as you parted your lips to speak he began to thrust into you wildly. Loud cries escaping you from the sudden sting ridden pleasure. No matter how hard you tried to quiet yourself, biting your lip, holding a hand over your mouth, nothing could keep the noises he drew from you down. You felt so filthy being fucked so brutally in such a place. The smallest pinch of guilt rose as you could almost feel the eyes of a Jesus statue across the room peering into your soul, but part of you liked that. How crude the acts you were committing were. Matt groaned as you clenched around him, his noises were Godly.

“How cute, you’re being torn apart by the Devil in a church kitten. And here you are loving every second. Gushing all over my cock with that pretty little pussy, if only your God could see you now Angel.” The praises and demeaning words had you whining, not sure if you wanted to hear more or for him to stop because you really loved every word that left his mouth.

“Oh God! Please don’t stop!” Interesting choice of words. Matt smiled as he was pounding away into you, releasing all his rage and frustrations into your abused hole. His orgasm close by already, having your mouth just been wrapped around him not long before.

“God? I can be that for you too Angel. Just call me sir for now pretty girl.” You felt as if you’d explode. So overwhelmed with pleasure you’ve never felt before, not quite like this, such an intense orgasm building and you’re right at the edge of it. Your stomach in absolute impossible endless knots, you didn’t even realize it until the salty taste hit your lips but you were sobbing. Such pleasure being foreign you couldn’t handle it.

“Aw you’re doing so good for me kitten, such a good little slut, all dumb on my cock, just drink on it aren’t you baby? Make a mess on it for me Angel. Put on a show for your God, show him what a dirty girl you are.” His words had you, if you weren’t about to cum before, you surely would now. Instantly once he stopped talking fluids came rushing out of you, squirting all over his cock and the tile floor. Your body trembling as he fucked you senseless through your orgasm, reaching his as your walls spasmed around his already close and sensitive cock.

His cum filling you up past the brim, a mixture of your fluids now in the tile before he even pulled out. Your bodies just stilling for a moment as you enjoyed the sensation of him emptying himself into you, and you being so incredibly warm and full inside.

A gasp and whine left from you as he slid out, his cum slipping out of you almost immediately as there was so much of it. Your legs gave out on you, and Matt had to grab you and hold your still shaking body steady. A smirk on his face from how he left you.

“You’re gonna need a lifetime of hail mary’s and never missing another Sunday of church again to be forgiven for that Angel.” A rather wide cocky grin adored his face, “my name is Matt by the way.”

Damn are you happy to have shitty friends right now.

#dark!matt murdock #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x you #matt murdock one shot #dark! daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil fic #dark daredevil smut #dark smut #marvel smut #matt murdock smut #dark matt murdock smut #daredevil smut #18+#rough smut #smut #charlie cox #charlie cox smut

903 notes · View notes