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judasofsuburbia · 1 year

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something something middle school steve trying to form a crush on somebody because it seems like everybody has crushes. he tries some girls in his grade but loses interest quickly for silly reasons.

then, at lunch, he sees a girl with long brown curly hair and forehead bangs in a leather jacket, head ducked and legs pulled up to her chest. she must be an eighth grader because steve’s never seen her before. she’s headbanging to the music coming out of her headphones and is sitting all by herself. she doesn’t dress like girls in his grade. she’s rougher, edgier. steve likes this. it makes his stomach swoop.

she’s way across the cafeteria so he can’t make out a lot of her features but he decides leather girl is his new crush.

he never points her out to his friends. he wants to keep her to himself. doesn’t want tommy or anybody else sweeping her up.

not that he actually makes any moves to talk to her. no, instead, he stares from across the cafeteria every day and tries to figure out something new about her.

steve thinks it’s funny the way she picks the skin off her apple slices, eats the skin, and then eats the slice.

she usually gets two milks bc she pockets one of them. a bad girl, steve thinks giddily. she always waits until the bell rings to chug both of them which is odd but entertaining.

she has pins on her jacket that steve assumes are bands. no other girls really talk about bands outside of the beatles. leather girl doesn’t scream beatles fan to steve. he wonders if they like any of the same bands.

he makes up little scenarios in his head of walking up there and handing her a mixtape and the two of them sitting very close so they can both listen out of her headphones.

he throws away notes he writes her because they all sound lame. he also doesn’t know where her locker is. or what her homeroom is to send her candy grams on holidays. or even her name.

this all proves to be a challenge. so he gets comfortable with just admiring her from afar.

one day, he’s seating himself at the table with tommy and them when he hears boys from the football team shouting things like “finally, the freak got rid of the stupid hair!” and “how’s that breeze feel, munson? finally feel like a man?”

steve whips his head around to see the boys towering over leather girl’s table. only…it’s not leather girl. or, it is but all of her hair is gone. buzzed to her scalp. there are tears running down her face and steve realizes his mistake.

he wasn’t crushing on a mysterious eighth grade girl. no, he was crushing on eddie munson.

whom he’d never actually seen but heard a lot of nasty things about.

his stomach feels like it drops to the floor. he can no longer hear the ridicule or general noise of the cafeteria because his ears are ringing. he finally had a crush and he still messed it up. steve felt shame riddle through his body so he abruptly got up and went to the boy’s bathroom for the rest of lunch.

as the bell rang, steve couldn’t get himself to move from the stall he was hiding in. he knows he would get in trouble if one of the hall monitors found him but his body remains frozen. the door opens and steve holds his breath. steve sees white sneakers underneath the door and immediately, he knows it’s leather girl…no, fuck. it’s eddie.

eddie is stomping around, grumbling about his stupid dad and how he looks ugly now, obviously not realizing there is another person in the bathroom. steve hears sniffles and his heart breaks. tentatively, steve gets up and opens the stall door. eddie jumps and clutches the sink behind him.

his eyes are brown, steve thinks. and really pretty.

“jesus, kid, shouldn’t you be in class?” eddie rasps.

“shouldn’t you?” steve retorts, defensively.

“touche,” eddie deadpans. he wipes his tears furiously and sticks his head into the sink to splash water onto his face. steve observes quietly, finally seeing all the features he’s been staring at for months in full detail.

eddie pats his face down with a paper towel and notices steve is still there.

“do you want something?” eddie seethes.

steve chews on the inside of his cheek. he knows he can’t be crushing on a boy. still, even without the beautiful curls, eddie makes his heartbeat faster. he’s still so beautiful. he doesn’t want to go to class anymore.

“have you ever been to the football bleachers?” steve asks.

eddie narrows his eyes. “uh yeah, who hasn’t?”

steve stands up a little taller and tries again. “no, like, the concession stand. when there’s not a game going on.”

“no…” eddie gestures for steve to get to his point.

“i know how to get inside. there are snacks and sodas in there. they never notice a couple missing,” steve smiles as he feels more rebellious sharing this information. “i don’t know if you wanna…”

eddie raises an amused eyebrow. “play hookey?”

steve nods excitedly. he loves the way eddie grins in response.

“lead the way, kid.”

and if steve’s first kiss is a few weeks later by a pair of clumsy, sour candy tasting lips, he’ll never tell.

and if steve gets caught that day and gets detention through the end of the school year, it’s totally worth it.

because eddie is right there with him. crushing on him too.

#emily writes #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fics #steve harrington/eddie munson #stranger things

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thorns-in-daisy-fields · 7 months

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I was messing with a poetry concept I was digging last night and came out with something totally different. It quickly grew into a story, and I really had fun with it. I'm nervous about posting it because it seems different than a lot of the writing I read, and I find myself worrying about what other people might think. I'm reminding myself that this is what my pen name is for. I created this little platform for myself so I could share my work with people. Even if it only resignates with one person, inspires one person, etc, I've already succeeded. The rest is water under the bridge... Yes, this paragraph is more for me than anyone else. The poem is bellow the cut

Every time life brings me

to my knees,

I raise a glass

to the god

who made me.

I toast to The Sadist

who pulled me

out of clay

with his own two

drunken hands

only-

and only-

to break me down

time

and time

again.

I toast:

cheers

to my shame,

cheers

to my suffering,

cheers

to my struggle,

and cheers

to my hopeless search

for redemption.

May it sit like poison

on your tongue,

so that your twisted addiction

may end.

To say I'm bitter

would be an understatement.

My creator's

obsession with tragedy

has left me

skinned up

between the covers

of dead men's books.

I want nothing more

than escape

but

he craves the sick

nostalgia

of tales

that came

long before mine,

so he sews seeds

of the past

into my soul,

so that my pain

may bloom

into a garden

of familiarity

for his leisure.

Riddled with

this curse of

noxious desire,

and

desperation

I've lept

out of that tower

with Icarus,

fully knowing

my fate.

Riddled with

this curse of

noxious desire,

and

desperation

I've followed

in Orpheus'

footsteps

once

thrice

all too aware

of what I'd still

lose

Riddled with

this curse of

noxious desire,

and

desperation

I've become so familiar

with moral perfectionism

and sacrifice

that Jesus and Prometheus

came to know

my name.

Yet

while they learned

to recognize me,

I lost the ability to name

the person

looking back at me

in the mirror.

More days than not,

I feel more myth

than man,

like just another

poor fool

locked to their fate

because

this god of mine

is making a Legion

of me:

a Legion of fools and

tragic heros.

More days than not,

I'm more a scambled apparation

of these myths

than anything else.

Who was I today?

Who was I yesterday?

Who will I be

tomorrow?

The answer is usually

something like this:

IcarusOrpheuseuridicemedusajesusPrometheussisyphusAtlasachillispatroclusNobodyTooMuchToConceptualizeNotEnoughToRecognizeIdontevenknowtheirnameortheirnameortheirnameortheirnameortheirnameortheirnameortheirnameor---

The Sadist tells me

these tears of blood,

are beautiful

as he kicks back,

arrogant with satisfaction.

He smirks

as he asks me

how many deaths

I'll have to die,

and how many ghosts

I'll have to meet

before

I collect enough lessons

amungst the grief

to set myself free.

And once again,

life has brought me

to my knees,

so I raise a glass

to the god

who made me.

I toast to

The Sadist

who pulled me

out of

clay

with his own

two

drunken hands

only-

and only-

to break

down

time

and

time

again.

I toast:

cheers

to my shame,

cheers

to my suffering,

cheers

to my

struggle,

and

cheers

to my

hopeless

for

redemption.

May it

sit

poison

on your

tongue,

so that

your

twisted

addiction

may

finally

end.

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totallynottinsel · 8 months

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Warnings: none. Just some tooth rotting fluff for the soul. and maybe a little angst

Ship: Chreon (+ some Jill x Claire sprinkled in for fun)

Ty to my wonderful mom for this whole idea of the gang getting to have a chill day out for once, she's amazing so all credit goes to her for the prompt (: (i've dragged her into the Chreon cult)

Finally, with the world saved once again by the skin of everyone’s teeth, there was that silent, open void left over; it was a bit funny how these top tier government agents and so on had a hard time figuring out what to occupy themselves with when not stopping bioterrorists or shooting zombies. Though most of them had gotten used to that same empty space by now.

After Dylan had been successfully put to a stop, as well as the events on Alcatraz Island settled—the near exhausted group of friends wanted to at least spend a little time all together before each of them had to return to their own set of work again. Yet the question was…what would they do? None could seem to agree on one thing throughout the various ideas and suggestions spat out, though at least someone had a decent choice. Rebecca ended up saying they should simply go out for ice cream, to which they all happily agreed to. Who wouldn’t though?

They all decided to carpool to make the trip easier. “I’m calling shotgun!” Claire exclaimed as she dashed to the side of the car, sitting herself inside right next to her brother, who’d already been the chosen driver—whilst Jill and Rebecca got stuck with the backseats. But at least it wasn’t too squished for the two of them, or so they would think for a good minute.

“Hey, can I ride with you guys? I’ve kinda lost mine” A low, unsure voice kindly asked the rest of the group, which was quick to catch everyone’s attention. It belonged to Leon of course, who stood just a few feet away from the vehicle, arms crossed as he patiently awaited a response.

“What happened to your bike?” Chris asked with curiosity towards the other, his arm resting on the rim of the car’s open window.

“I…don’t really wanna talk about it.” The blond replied in an underlying tone of remorse, his gaze fluttering down to the ground below him, almost in a shameful manner.

"Not again…" Claire murmured from her side, leaning forward to try and get a better look out her brother's window, not all too surprised by the revolution. Especially seeing who it was coming from.

"What does she mean again? Jesus, how many bikes have you recked?" Jill raised an eyebrow to the topic, staring at the apprehensive man outside the car with a slightly distasteful, yet nonetheless intrigued look on her face.

"Too many for my liking." Leon mumbled under his breath as it was mixed with the tiniest tinge of annoyance, which was fair in his defense. He made his way over to the car, and slid himself inside the backseat alongside the other two—who were now stuck being squished next to each other.

"So what I got from that was, is that I get to sit next to the guy who's known for wrecking bikes and or vehicles? Just my luck." She remarked straight back, her tone riddled with sarcasm as she kept on trying to lean far from him, making their limited space even worse no doubt. "Wanna swap seats?" She asked the woman next to her.

"I'll pass." Rebecca gladly declined, knowing fully well she wasn't about to be the human shield in case the curse of the vehicle wrecker was real all along.

"Don't worry, we'll get you a new one, again. It's no big deal." Chris didn't hesitate one bit to put up an offer towards the other man, his usual warm and inviting smile coming across his face as he started up the car, one hand leisurely placed on the wheel.

"You don't have to do that, Chris—really. I can get my own this time, eventually…" He denied the gracious offer with hesitance; it wouldn't be the first time he's said no, yet came home to a snazzy new bike regardless.

"He just likes finding any excuse to buy you things." Claire couldn't help but comment with a grin towards the two, shifting to look back at Leon, who rightfully was trying to avoid direct eye contact. Even if everyone was staring at him with intrigue. "You know he'll get it for you no matter what you say or do." He sank right into his seat after hearing that.

—-------

"Are you going to pick or just stand there?" Chris asked with a gentle sigh, waiting for Jill to finally order whatever flavor of ice cream she was so deeply contemplating for what seemed like years. At this rate, she'd been holding up the line of impatient kids—whilst Claire and Rebecca had no issues ordering and taking a seat outside the place.

"Give me a break! It's been awhile since I ordered anything, let alone ice cream." She gave a snappy response before eventually making her decision out of the bajillion flavors this place had, and was glad to leave the devilish gazes of all those kids waiting for their daily sugar intake.

"Did you order anything yet?" Chris directed his attention back to the silent man standing off to the side, seeming a bit fazed out—as if he'd been distracted this entire time, which might've been true.

"Huh–? Oh, yeah… I'll just have whatever you're having, I'm not really that hungry." Leon merely shrugged his shoulders, stuffing his hands down into the pockets of his leather jacket, having his laid back demeanor as always.

"You sure?" The older wanted to confirm, though a hint of concern was noticeable in his voice towards the other.

"Yeah, like I said, I'm not super hungry or anything…but if I do I'll just steal some from yours." He at least had a half smile going, which was better than nothing at all, but something still felt a bit off.

The two men returned back outside within no time, ice cream in hand as the sun was shining, people out and about, no blood curdling screams of terror. Or big tyrants stomping around. All in all it was…well, a normal, average day, by anyone else's standards. But for this group of pals in particular? This was like a dream.

"Looks like we've been ditched." Leon snarkily remarked at the supposed other three friends who'd left before them, now nowhere in sight. So…that left the both of them, alone once again to either sit in cricket filled silence as they stood on the sidewalk, or attempt at striking up a decent conversation. What the hell would they even talk about at this point? That was always the question when this scene played out, with no mission to swiftly coordinate with one another, or battle to face. Though in all honesty, neither one totally hated the silence—it was almost nice of sorts to just be in each other's company, no words needed.

"You doing okay?" Chris finally spoke up after at least five minutes of just head nodding and gestures of acknowledgement, having already taken notice of the other's odd quietness, and how he kept on resting his eyes nearly the whole time. "You've been pretty quiet all morning."

"I'm fine, just real tired. I barely got any sleep last night…actually, scratch that, I haven't got any sleep all damn week. I guess it's catching up to me." The fatigued blond rubbed his drowsy eyes with his hand, leaning his back against the concrete wall next to the store. "I can't seem to figure out how to stop having nightmares, and I feel like I've tried everything, you know?"

"Yeah, I do." Chris gave a weary nod in return; he definitely had similar experiences with dreams throughout his entire life, though he wasn't sure if his were as frequent, and as bad as Leon's. He's heard about them in detail before, and it didn't sound like a pleasant sight to see. He also wasn't an expert when it came to comforting people, so he gently leaned his cup of ice cream towards the other, offering it up with a kindhearted smile.

Leon let a short chuckle go as he spotted the ice cream, decided to accept the treat, even if it wasn't a flavor he preferred—he didn't mind at all if it was coming from Chris. He pulled out one of the plastic spoons that sat in the side of it, and popped a spoon full into his mouth, pleasantly surprised by it.

"You'll always have my shoulder to lean on, just know that." The older said whilst taking a bite of his own, happy to have seen his offer of ice cream be taken up.

"Good, 'cause I'm beat." Leon didn't hesitate much to carefully rest his sleepy head on the side of the other's shoulder, not exactly being able to reach the top due to their slight height difference. He obviously chose to take the Chris's words more literally than figuratively—but hey, the man was exhausted, so what's the harm in it?

The two decided to stay there, taking in the scenery; sounds of speedy cars rushing by, or the sounds of distant voices and footsteps. It was honestly quite relaxing, and with how tired Leon already was, he was struggling to even keep his eyes open as he took a long awaited rest—which no doubt wouldn't be happening if Chris wasn't here. They made each other feel safe enough to put their guards down for once. It was sort of like having a big fuzzy blanket you could hide yourself under, and you felt as if nobody could touch you.

"Hey, Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"You really don't have to get me a new bike."

"I want to."

Leon sighed in defeat, eyes still closed, knowing there was no way he'd win this argument.

"Maybe Claire was right when she said I use it as an excuse to buy you things, but it's also an excuse to get to see you. Without having to fight bioterrorist's in the same day." It was true, he was always looking for little ways to try and see or talk to the agent away from anything work related, and it'd become painfully obvious to everyone around that he was trying so hard to spend time with him, well—to everyone but Leon.

“All you have to do is ask, y’know? It’s no trouble if you ever wanna call me up and hang around, or something. No need to spend your entire life savings on me, Redfield.” He mentally cursed at his own words after some thought over them, wondering if ‘hanging around’ was the right thing to suggest, should he have recommended going out to dinner? Or perhaps another group activity? He was unsure, and the room was a bit hard to read…so, all he could really do was hope for the best.

“I might just take you up on that, then.” Well, Chris definitely seemed up for it, so…at least he was doing something right.

—-----

"That's a keeper." Claire said with a smile of her own as she snapped a good photo of the two men from round the street corner, knowing it was a rare sight they were ever that close in a public setting—and she couldn't wait to see the look on her brother's face once she showed it to him later.

"How have neither of them asked each other out?" Rebecca asked with absolute disbelief, shaking her head as she finished off her scoop of ice cream.

"Honestly, I thought Leon would be making moves left and right on him, but I realized he talks a bigger game than he's actually got. And that's just based off a few days knowing him." Jill summed it up fairly well as she watched the two, arms crossed with a small smile before she moved her gaze to the other women beside her. "You Redfields are awful at flirting too."

"She's got a point, I've been around those two long enough to get the feeling that Chris…isn't necessarily great at flirting…" Rebecca chimed in with reluctance.

"Hey, we're not awful flirters! I can do it just as well as anyone else, and maybe Chris…struggles, but he gets there." Claire defended the both of them with confidence in her voice, one she'd soon come to regret as she attempted trying to come up with a flirt, or pickup line, yet—she found herself stuck with infuriated embarrassment by the end of it.

"Alright, stop— look, this is how you do it." Jill set her empty cup of melted ice cream down onto the ground, rolling her shoulders back as she stepped a few feet away, then turned around and walked up to the younger Redfield again, who was still speechless. "Hey, wanna go out some time, beautiful?"

In all honesty, it wasn't that great of a line, and really shouldn't work on anyone. Yet the way Jill said those words—the way she walked with absolute confidence, and her voice was as smooth as ever—it lit something inside Claire that she suddenly couldn't explain, and all she could say was…

"Uh, sure–?" She uttered out with a mix of confusion, surprise, and…an interesting dose of excitement.

"Great." Jill accepted it, and was content with her work for the day enough to begin walking back—with a flabbergasted Claire and semi entertained Rebecca following—towards the two men who were practically in their own little world—which would soon come to a speedy crash. "Is he asleep…?" She asked in a low voice.

The sound of Jill's harsh, sudden questioning was enough to jolt Leon awake from his relaxed and peaceful state, swiftly leaving his claimed spot on Chris's shoulder and very quickly deciding to pretend as if that was the last thing he was doing. And totally was not taking an extremely enjoyable nap on his quote on quote ‘friend's’ arm. Yet now he just looked plain freaked out instead of cool and collected. "Where the hell did you all come from–?"

"We were hanging around the corner, just to let you two have some quality time to yourselves.” Rebecca answered with her usual soft tone, though it was as clear as day she was in on whatever the three of them were conspiring over there. “Well, until Jill had something to say to you, I believe."

Chris audibly sighed, a bit bitter by the fact his moment was abruptly interrupted, but tried in his best efforts to keep calm about it, just for the 50\50 chance that whatever she had to say was important in some way, shape or form.

“What is it?”

“I asked your sister out, and she said sure.” Blunt as ever.

“You what?”

The silence had gotten so thick, you could cut it with a knife. And that soon faded into mindless staring—just waiting for someone to awkwardly cough, or say any sentence at all. Nobody was entirely sure if this was all a planned joke or quite literal.

“Jill what do you mean? Don’t walk away!” He threw his hands up in utter confusion as he chased after her down the sidewalk, itching to get a straighter answer and much needed context he clearly missed, whilst Rebecca kept on telling them not to banter so close to the busy road. Far too many times.

Leon didn’t give many words to the whole ordeal, and instead chose to simply watch in saddened disappointment as Chris left his side; he had a blatant frown as he put his hands back in his pockets, returning to the same state he’d been in all morning within the blink of an eye. Although he did have one question that took him a bit aback, out of everything that went down.

“I didn’t know you…well, you know, were into women–?” He tilted his head towards Claire with uncertainty to his own question, even if they’d been close friends for years now—new information still seemed to pop up out of the blue.

“I didn’t know you were into my brother.” She didn’t even have to look back at him to get her point across, and held back a large smile while doing so. She’d noticed his sudden spring of dismay the moment Chris walked off right away, of course, and couldn’t help but comment on it if no one else would.

The blond didn’t deny her accusation by any means, and simply took a stand by her side, a chuckle escaping his lips as they watched the other three repartee all across the street, a true sight for sore eyes getting to see them have a bit of fun.

“I don’t think he knows either.”

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little-diable · 2 years

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Sacrifices - Priest!Tom Riddle (dark!smut)

He is the perfect fucked up, awful priest. And he's even worse in this story. Remember, don't like it - don't read it. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Father Riddle asks his community to think of sacrifices, ways to please God. But what if she doesn't have anything to offer, but her purity?

Warnings: 18+, unprotected vaginal sex, loss of virginity, heavy heavy dubcon, Tom being Tom, sex in a church, religious connotations, power play

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (2k words)

“We all have to make sacrifices, we all have to give up things we love, to please the Father. And there is no shame in that. What does the bible teach us? To love God, to worship him, to put our trust in him. Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, this is your true and proper worship.” Father Riddle’s voice boomed through the church as if God himself was talking to the community, guiding them to the holy realm he has built for every single soul wandering this earth.

(Y/n) felt her body tremble, mesmerised by the man that kept preaching the holy words. It felt as if he had written those words himself, a true follower of God; a true lover of a sinless life; a man she could always trust. She admired him, and had been doing so since the man had joined their community, too stunned and blinded by his appearance to actually talk to him.

He had given her time, even though he could feel her eyes following his body move around the church, patiently waiting for (y/n) to find her way to him. But even a man of God could lose his patience, wearing thin like the piece of linen that had once covered Jesus’ face. Full of sweat, tears and blood.

“May you rest now, think of the words the holy book offers us, words we can use to live a life He’ll be pleased with. Amen.” A chorus of “amen” echoed through the church as the community began to rise from the benches. All but (y/n), frozen to her seat with her hands interlaced in her lap and her legs quivering. His words have moved her, reaching the deepest part of her soul only those who have a connection with Him could move.

His eyes bore straight into her soul, uncovering the thoughts roaring through her mind like thunder crashing through the night. Slowly he made his way to (y/n), silently sinking down next to the still trembling woman.

“(Y/n), isn’t it?” Father Riddle’s voice was soft, cozying her along in false comfort, hoping to lure her closer, stuck in the web he was spinning. Like a spider crawling through the night, set on killing those too close to for its liking, he was determined to pull her in, to uncover the secrets hiding in her young body.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll leave soon.” She didn’t dare meet his eyes, at least not before he spoke her name again and again, hoping to catch her gaze. Electricity bolted through her, burning holes into her soul, allowing his poisonous touch to seep right into her body.

“Don’t apologise, I am here to listen. This church is just as much your home as it is mine.” Father Riddle’s voice grew raspier, lower than ever before - at least as far as she could judge. He had something dark to him, something that left her wondering if he had danced with the devil before, the darkest touch that could forever mark a person. “Tell me, what is plaguing your thoughts?”

“I, your prayers left me wondering, since I don’t feel like I’ve ever truly sacrificed something, if He’d still love me.” Her voice dripped with anxiety, scared that her lord and saviour could leave her behind, the darkest nightmare (y/n) desperately tried to escape from. Her rambling was cut short by Father Riddle placing his cold hand on her knee, forcing the woman to grow quiet.

“Of course He will. But remember, sacrifices make us stronger, they teach us things no other human being could ever manage to think of.” He halted for a second, eyes flickering down to her quivering thighs. An earthquake shaking the land apart wouldn’t leave trees, houses and cars trembling as much as she was in that moment. “What would you sacrifice, if I’d ask you to?”

“I,” she paused, wondering what she could give up, what she could offer. “I don��t have much to give, not enough money or precious things. All I have is my pure soul.”

Like alcohol thumping through his veins, setting his adrenaline free, Tom straightened his posture, attention caught by the last few words she had just spoken. Purity. Exactly what he had been hoping for.

“You see, giving up your purity would be a sacrifice, of course not with an unmarried man, that would be a sin. But with a man of God it would be an act of pleasing.” She wasn’t sure if she understood what he was telling her, confusing the woman who had her eyes set on his hand, wandering further up her thigh. (Y/n)’s mind screamed at her to stop him, but his words kept repeating themselves in her head, ringing in her ears like a spell forcing her to abide by his rules.

“I don’t understand.” His grip on her thigh grew tighter, about to disappear beneath her dress, touching her like no other man had ever touched her before. And all she could do was let him explore her body, too scared that she’d make God angry. The man was a worshipper of her eternal saviour, he must know what is right and wrong, he wouldn’t go against God’s calling. Would he?

“You see, (y/n). He will reward you for pleasing me, since you are pleasing him through me. You would make him proud, would save yourself a spot right next to his throne.” His hand reached her covered heat, and for a second he didn’t move, waiting for her to react to the unfamiliar touch. But she didn’t, with her jaw clenched and her hands gripping the fabric of her dress, she waited for him to keep on going.

Slowly he pushed the fabric of her cotton panties aside, fingers gliding over her folds as if he was mapping out her body, wanting to burn the feeling of her soft skin beneath his fingertips into his mind. Her whimpers were as sweet as the songs of the archangels, staring down on the two with dilated pupils and racing hearts. The man was sinning, breaking every rule he had ever known by heart, and he didn't care. Not one bit.

This isn’t what Jesus had died for. This isn’t what God had told him to do. This was the devil’s work.

“Are you sure I should do this?” Her wide eyes found his dark ones, and with a “yes” rolling off his tongue, she gave into his touch. His thumb rubbed her clit, slowly building up a rhythm that left her shaking, having to fight against the need to close her thighs. An unfamiliar feeling stretched itself through her body, the first of many she’d live through today.

“Atta girl, speak my name, let him hear you.” This would save him a spot in hell, forever bound to the eternal flames, melting with the heat biting through his body like the snake’s words have bitten themselves into Eva’s mind.

He didn’t warn her, pushed a finger into her tightness, coaxing a surprised gasp out of her. (Y/n) couldn’t stop her hand from finding his forearm, desperate to hold onto the man who was fucking her closer to her first orgasm. The intense feeling would wash through her any moment now, without a warning it would flush through her like the waves that had clashed against Noah’s ark.

She whimpered, she gasped, she cried out his name. An act full of sin, no longer pure but tainted by the man’s touch.

“Look at you, clenching my fingers like the slut you are. You like pleasing me, don’t you?” She wanted to shake her head, not understanding why he was calling her names, degrading her like that, but her orgasm rocked through her before (y/n) could protest. Her body trembled like a flag dancing in the wind, head thrown back to let her moans claw straight through her tight throat.

He kept fucking her through her high, eyes set on her features, fully mesmerized by (y/n). Today he’d bury his cock in her tightness, deep inside of her so that she could feel him press against her stomach. He would bind her to him, forever one with the man that could guide her through every high and low.

“Open your mouth.” (Y/n) was heavily breathing, glassy eyes set on his as she followed his command. He placed his fingers on her tongue, forcing her to lick them clean. Her taste stuck to her tongue, forever burned into the strong muscle - a reminder for days to come. “Follow me, darling.”

Slowly he walked them up to the altar, wordlessly he pointed towards the heavy stone, hoping that she would understand what he was trying to communicate. But (y/n) didn’t move, wordlessly she shook her head, turning away from the man with panic arising in her system.

“Darling,” Father Riddle clicked his tongue, he singsung her name as he forced her to halter, no longer able to move away from him. “We aren’t done here, be a good girl and sit on the altar. Think of Him, how proud He is of you.”

The words had their effect on her, body moving towards the altar without another thought holding her back. He was more cunning and sick than the devil, and yet her body still chose to follow his command, lured in by false promises.

“Lay back and spread your thighs for me.” Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision, forced to trust her other senses. She picked up on the sound of Father Riddle undoing his trousers, freeing his hardening cock. There was no turning back, she was now bound to her fate like a criminal paying for their sins. Sins only God could take from her, making her pure all over.

He brushed the tip of his cock through her slit, using her slick as lubricant, mixed with the saliva he had spat into his palm. Father Riddle didn’t speak to her as he broke her in, his groans overpowered the cries that clawed through her like a demon breaking free from the light, one with the darkness, one with the lord of the underworld. A blind follower.

“Such a tight cunt, fuck, you’re perfect for me, pet.” He spoke in riddles she couldn’t decipher, not understanding that the man was claiming her. She no longer was her own person, no, she was his toy from now on, forced to stick to the sick and twisted man.

Her walls burned, uncomfortably stretched by his cock, forced apart with every ferocious thrust. A small part of her found pride in the act, knowing that she was pleasing her saviour, giving into His calling. She was making a sacrifice, just like He had asked her to. And He would reward her for it, (y/n) was sure of it.

The stone she was lying on uncomfortably pressed against her back, leaving marks whenever he fucked into her, brushing her back further up the surface. But (y/n) couldn’t focus on the feeling, she had her attention switched onto Father Riddle, who was now rubbing her sensitive clit with two fingers, wanting to push her closer to her breaking point.

He managed to coax a few moans out of her, allowing (y/n) to relax beneath him. Even though her lower body was aching, begging for a break, she moaned for him, set on giving into another orgasm. An orgasm that was creeping closer, about to rumble through her like the words God would speak to her in weak moments, begging her to keep on fighting.

“Give in, scream my name. He shall reward you.” And she did, his name bled from her lips, filling the empty church. Father Riddle fucked her through her second high, only giving in as she grew limp, trying to catch her breath with her heart racing on. He pulled out of her before he released himself on her stomach, cum leaving its stain on the dress she was wearing. Dirty and sinful - just how he liked it.

“Thank you for your sacrifice, (y/n). May you rest, be proud of yourself. Another sacrifice will soon call for you.”

Please like and reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this, come talk to me about my writing, let’s spill some tea or thirst over our favorite people. xxx

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#Tom Riddle smut #little-diable priest #Tom Riddle imagine #harry potter

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enjomo-arch · 10 months

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( flame command ━━ prompted : ashmi anand ) // [ ♠ @deityforged ]

oh , jesus , are you alright ?

There were gunshots. Like an echo, the sound of gunfire reverberated through the neighborhood, waking up inhabitants and scaring animals and birds into fleeing in terror. Like Ace, who was also carrying a borrowed bag of food from a restaurant with a slab of beef in his mouth. He had ran out of money and was getting desperate for anything to eat.

The owner was not happy, and he chased after the fire fist while shooting the pirate full of bullets. But the fire-forged flesh just split open so the projectiles could pass through. Not hurting him in any way. The door was closed behind Ace as he slammed through it, leaving him looking like a beautiful spotted cheese. Sighing in relief, he removed the meat from his lips, only to discover that he had broken into the house of a woman who appeared concerned about the cracks that decorated the body of the fiery pirate.

Ace blinked, his eyes opening to a new understanding. What a shame he couldn't take his time. With a courteous bow, he faced her and threw the stolen food bags to the ground. ❝ Sorry I didn't know someone lives here .... ! ❞ Ace lowered his head in contrition as he surveyed his bullet-riddled body, the wounds spewing fire instead of blood. He neglected his regeneration needs while dealing with this chaos. Freckled features cracked a grin, and eyebrows dipped as Ace waved this aside.

❝ That ? S' nothin' lady. See ? ❞ The holes in his body began to seal back, forming the flesh off the fire until he looked like a brand new man. With a nod and a hat-tip, he began to get his belongings off the floor. ❝ Forgive me for the incident. i'll be goin' now, and if y'can, don't call any security services. ❞

#deityforged #「003」 𝗜𝗡 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥 #「004」 𝗥𝗘𝗣𝗟𝗬 #「ver」 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗟 #i kinda went for ashmi's non one piece verse cuz this whole scenario was so funny in my head not to write it down #ace just so unbothered about his body spitting fire and he's just more concerned abt #disturbing her peace than being chased down DGSGGD

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cassianus · 2 years

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The Explanations of the Psalms by Saint Ambrose: Psalm 1

Although the whole of Scripture breathes God’s grace upon us, this is especially true of that delightful book, the book of the psalms. Moses, when he related the deeds of the patriarchs, did so in a plain and unadorned style. But when he had miraculously led the people of Israel across the Red Sea, when he had seen King Pharaoh drowned with all his army, he transcended his own skills (just as the miracle had transcended his own powers) and he sang a triumphal song to the Lord. Miriam the prophetess herself took up a timbrel and led the others in the refrain: Sing to the Lord: he has covered himself in glory, horse and rider he has thrown into the sea.

History instructs us, the law teaches us, prophecy foretells, correction punishes, morality persuades; but the book of psalms goes further than all these. It is medicine for our spiritual health. Whoever reads it will find in it a medicine to cure the wounds caused by his own particular passions. Whoever studies it deeply will find it a kind of gymnasium open for all souls to use, where the different psalms are like different exercises set out before him. In that gymnasium, in that stadium of virtue, he can choose the exercises that will train him best to win the victor’s crown.

If someone wants to study the deeds of our ancestors and imitate the best of them, he can find a single psalm that contains the whole of their history, a complete treasury of past memories in just one short reading.

If someone wants to study the law and find out what gives it its force (it is the bond of love, for whoever loves his neighbour has fulfilled the law) let him read in the psalms how love led one man to undergo great dangers to wipe out the shame of his entire people; and this triumph of virtue will lead him to recognise the great things that love can do.

And as for the power of prophecy – what can I say? Other prophets spoke in riddles. To the psalmist alone, it seems, God promised openly and clearly that the Lord Jesus would be born of his seed: I promise that your own son will succeed you on the throne.

Thus in the book of psalms Jesus is not only born for us: he also accepts his saving passion, he dies, he rises from the dead, he ascends into heaven, he sits at the Father’s right hand. The Psalmist announced what no other prophet had dared to say, that which was later preached by the Lord himself in the Gospel.

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periwinkle--daydreams · 1 month

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A week late, but I finally beat Elden Ring! Main storyline, Mohg, Malenia, Placidusax... basically everything that matters! I plan on replaying it in about a month as a new character so I can finish certain sidequests I never activated or accidentally left unfinished and prepare for the DLC, but until then? Have some scattered thoughts about the endgame/bonus areas!

(NOTE: This is actually a month late, and my thoughts and feelings on certain parts of this post have changed, but I'm posting them as-is for the sake of prosperity since I genuinely meant to post this at the original date. I just have a bad attention span/tendency to get sidetracked by other projects, ha ha)

I dreaded burning Melina because I was expecting it to be agonizing, painful, and depressing to watch. It was still depressing, yet she seemed to go peacefully meaning that once she was dead and gone, I couldn't help but feel... relieved, oddly enough. I really wish we got to see more of her because even after looking at the Frenzied Flame ending where she's revealed to potentially have some sort of connection to that queen the Godskins followed, I still feel like I practically understand nothing about her aside from the fact that she's a mysterious little enigma wrapped up in a riddle.

I knew what to expect since I went there super early via the Four Belfries, but Farum Azula is one of my favorite dungeons. It's hauntingly beautiful, the enemies are challenging in just the right way, the connection to the dragons, all the weird fuckery surrounding the Placidusax fight (as well as the reveal that he's a goddamn PREHISTORIC ELDEN LORD), and the way it culminates in a fight against best boy Gurranq/Maliketh...

The Godskin Duo can burn in hell. Seriously, fuck that boss. I gave it an honest try but after the thirteenth death and runback past those annoying knight enemies guarding the way, I said fuck it and used Sleep Pots. Absolutely no shame, no regret, and I'll gladly do it again upon replaying.

What are the Godskins even doing there, anyway? Aesthetically they actually fit in pretty well with the crumbling, ethereal architecture, but they stick out like a sore thumb among the beastmen, dragons, and knights that I assume are meant to back up Maliketh in protecting Destined Death. Were they trying to skin him and/or Placidusax, or did they want Destined Death back to empower their Black Flame magic?

Maliketh was a stupidly hard boss who broke me over his knee before Tiche and I were lucky enough to catch him in an easy to manage pattern, yet I didn't get angry the way I did fighting the Fire Giant or Malenia. Overwhelming as his crackhead acrobatics may be and how easily you can die after eating one of his Destined Death blasts, his moveset still feels very learnable and manageable: I was just getting impatient and trying to plow through the game since I wanted to get it over with at that point. Plus, he's just plain cool. :^y

Also... Jesus Christ, poor guy. There's something gutting about the way he sounds genuinely shocked and betrayed by you coming after him at the start of his boss fight. Sorry, man! I don't want this any more than you do... ;_;

A part of me wishes that the Ashen Capital was a proper dungeon instead of a big, empty wasteland... but at the same time, I REALLY wasn't in the mood to explore another, so maybe it's okay that it exists as a glorified boss rush chamber. And speaking of...

I knew Gideon would betray me, but I was surprised by his reasons for doing so. I figured he was biding his time to find the perfect moment to strike like a snake in the grass, but he was just... broken. Genuinely distraught by whatever the hell it was that he saw. He wasn't by any definition a good person (The Albinauric Village and Latenna say hi, as does Nepheli), but I couldn't help but feel a bit sad when all was said and done. He was surprisingly easy, which is sad because the gimmick of him having a bigger spell pool based on how much information you relayed back to him was really cool and inspired.

Godfrey kicked ass, and honestly? If he and Hoarah Loux had seperate health bars and Serosh did more than just spectate during the Godfrey phase, I wouldn't mind if he was the final boss. Even as an Astrologer getting help from Nepheli (who I think is supposed to be his daughter? Weird that she had nothing to say about fighting him) it felt like a true contest of champions: a contender to the throne vs THE original Elden Lord (in the Age of the Erdtree, anyway). A "mere" Tarnished of no reknown vs THE great granddaddy of all Tarnished: the consort of a God and a one-man genocide machine who ate Fire Giants for breakfast. An honorable duel that devolves into a horrifying, brutal cage match once the kid gloves (and spirit lion) come off and he starts pulling out suplexes, choke slams, and all sorts of other crazy moves that made me feel like we briefly crossed over with the WWE and Fist of the North Star. And despite being, at his core, an insane berserker whose bloodlust made him incapable of being a proper lord without Serosh to keep him in check, he was still man enough to congratulate me for a battle well-fought. Seriously, what a cool fight.

Also, him cradling Morgott's corpse at the start of the fight and the muted sadness (accompanied by Serosh's furious howling, which I'm certain is supposed to represent how he REALLY feels) he showed really makes me wish we got to see more of his relationship with both his Omen kids. It'd be heartbreaking to see him react to how deeply into depravity that Mohg has fallen, for example.

And speaking of Mohg? A surprisingly easy boss (granted, a friend warned me to pick up the tear that helps deal with his NIHIL countdown), yet one of the coolest in terms of aesthetics, music, fighting style... but good god, he's an evil bastard. I love him, don't get me wrong, but man: between the kidnapping and heavily implied rape of Miquella, the corruption of Albinaurics he was trying to save, the destruction of the Haligtree (doesn't seem to be intentional but I don't think it's a stretch to say that he gives zero fucks lol), he's one of the best contenders for the game's most evil villain.

Fellow superboss Malenia however was brutally, punishingly hard. And what's weird is that overall, she's honestly pretty unremarkable as a boss. Fast and relentless, yes. But her attacks are for the most part, very learnable. She staggers really easily and if you've got a powerful summon like Tiche or one of the Banished Knights helping you out, she'll spend at least half the fight knocked flat on her ass. And even her Goddess of Rot form looks scarier than it actually is since the above still apply... except for her butterfly clones. I still don't have the dodge timing down for that one. However...

Malenia's still stupidly hard because she's propped up by a really stupid gimmick and one obscenely overpowered move. The health drain on every single one of her attacks, even if you block them, is ridiculous and something that I feel is a huge source of "Fake Difficulty" as TV Tropes calls it. Likewise, Waterfowl Dance (or as I like to call it, the Anime Bullshit Attack) is just such an insanely overpowered attack that I'm surprised it avoided the cutting-room floor and made it into the game as-is without any patches to make it at least a tiny bit more reasonable. I eventually got the timing down (Pull a Joseph Joestar and run away from the initial flurry of slashes, roll into the follow up attacks and away from the finisher) and pulled off two perfect dodges during my winning attempt, but damn.

I assume the Scarlet Rot's messing with her mind considering what happened to Radahn, but it was weird that Malenia went from 0-to-100 rambling about the toll that the Rot has taken on her to declaring that you must die. Ditto for not being able to tell her that you know where Miquella is and that you either killed Mohg or want her help in taking him down. Apparently there's a LOT of scrapped material involving her, Miquella, and her boss fight, and that honestly makes a lot of sense considering that in her unused dialogue, she seems to only attack you if you actively attack her since she seems to have been conceptualized as a character that you could befriend.

The Haligtree was a great (if tough) dungeon and the Brace was just as breathtaking as the Royal Capital... but good god, the trip there sucked ass. The Concentrated Snowfield and that little evergaol town crawling with Albinauric archers/INVISIBLE BLACK KNIFE ASSASSINS were genuinely sadistic game design. The Snowfield especially what with its insanely overtuned enemies and snowstorm-induced fog. Not looking forward to doing that one again, to put it lightly.

Back to the endgame: the final boss. Oh BOY. On one hand, Radagon was a great fight and while not as manly and brutal as Godfrey? It was still an intense, dramatic, atmospheric showdown worthy of the Second Elden Lord/God herself. Radagon's overwhelmingly powerful, dangerous at range and up close, and while I thought it was a shame that you didn't get any insight to his personality? His cold silence and machine-like efficiency actually made him intimidating in a way that Godfrey/Hoarah Loux wasn't. While you can't afford to make many mistakes, he was definitely a worthy final boss...

And then a certain eldritch sea slug came right the hell out of nowhere and soiled it. SOILED IT. I guess it's meant to be the Elden Ring's true form... maybe? I'm still not really sure what that fight was about, other than that it sucked major dick. When it isn't constantly running away from you, you're having to run away every time it puts on a major light show leading to a real slog of a fight that made me think to myself "Can I fight the boss now, mommy? Please? Now? How about now? Can I attack- oh, not yet? Ah." Having to fight Radagon again every time you died to this thing also sucked not because he himself sucked, but because he's tough enough to a major drain on your flasks and leave you in a position where you can't afford to make too many mistakes when this stupid thing rears its ugly head.

For what it's worth, the atmosphere was really nice and the idea of fighting a weird alien thing in a forest of Erdtrees representing the Greater Will itself as your final trial was good in theory. But in practice. Painful. Just painful. I like to imagine that Gideon saw this boss fight and that's what turned him into such a defeatist. He was trying to spare us from an awful final boss...

And to cap things off... I feel like I understand Marika a whole lot less after beating the game than I did going in. I legitimately cannot tell what she was trying to accomplish, or if she had any genuine redeeming qualities since intentionally or not, she comes across as sort of an unstable sociopath. And Radagon as well as her relationship with him just make her even more of an enigma. I dunno, maybe I'm just dumb, but she's genuinely hard for me to read.

#hydrox rambles #hydrox plays elden ring #elden ring #elden ring spoilers

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gduncan969 · 7 months

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The Scourge of Legalism

1 Corinthians 4: 18 - 20 “Some are arrogant, as though I were not coming to you. 19 But I will come to you soon, if the Lord wills, and I will find out not the talk of these arrogant people but their power. 20 For the kingdom of God does not consist in talk but in power.” (RSV)

Romans 14: 13 “Then let us no more pass judgment on one another, but rather decide never to put a stumbling block or hindrance in the way of a brother. 14 I know and am persuaded in the Lord Jesus that nothing is unclean in itself; but it is unclean for any one who thinks it unclean. 15 If your brother is being injured by what you eat, you are no longer walking in love. Do not let what you eat cause the ruin of one for whom Christ died. 16 So do not let your good be spoken of as evil. 17 For the kingdom of God is not food and drink but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit;”

I have met so many people who were raised in the church and enthusiastically followed the Lord Jesus in their younger years but now want nothing to do with the message of the Gospel because what was once to them “the right way to live” later became a straitjacket of laws to be obeyed and activities to be avoided lest they be accused by their family and fellow believers of wilfully sinning. Failure to meet these “laws” split families and churches right down the middle and the finger-wagging condemnation of their more religious fellow believers caused many to walk away and abandon the faith altogether. My wife remembers well as a teenager sitting in the choir of her local Baptist Church one Sunday morning and having her aunt seated in the row in front turn around and tell her, “I know where you were last night and you should be ashamed to be sitting in the choir this morning!” Her damnable crime: she had attended a party the previous evening run by the youth group at the local Church of Scotland. Perhaps worse still, her own Baptist Church youth group seriously discussed the question: “Can you belong to the Church of Scotland and still be saved?” We were married in that church 58 years ago, just before the minister, who was a godly man, was forced to resign because he was accused of falsifying the financial records and we know several from that church who still refuse to have anything to do with the Gospel. How sad!

The Christian and the Law

Church history is riddled with many similar stories and to its shame it continues to this day. There’s something in our fallen nature that craves power over others because we need it to hide our own failures and an easy way to gain that power is to invent a set of rules and regulations that you have to obey—except if you are the one who makes the rules! That way you can elevate yourself above your peers and show off your faithfulness to the cause by keeping others in line with the latest group-think while condemning those who express a different point of view. Someone once said the perfect church has only one member. The Old Testament of course, is a ready source of do’s and don’t’s that we can hit others with and bring them to heel by accusing them of breaking God’s written laws that must be obeyed. The words of the Bible make a great cudgel to hit others with as you seek relief from your own frustration trying to satisfy its insatiable demands for obedience The tragedy is, however, that no believer in Jesus Christ is called to live according to the law. Paul warns us in Galatians 3: 10 - 13:

For as many as are of the works of the law (i.e. those who demand we follow the law of do’s and don’ts) are under the curse; for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who does not continue in all things which are written in the book of the law, to do them.” 11 But that no one is justified by the law in the sight of God is evident, for “the just shall live by faith.” 12 Yet the law is not of faith, but “the man who does them shall live by them.” 13 Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law, having become a curse for us (for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree”), 14 that the blessing of Abraham might come upon the Gentiles in Christ Jesus, that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith.”

It couldn’t be clearer that we are NOT required to live by reading all the Bible’s rules and regulations then gritting our teeth in a supreme effort to obey them. We are to walk after the Spirit, not the flesh and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. Yet many believers think they have to live in obedience to the law and in the guaranteed frustration that results, they lay their intolerable legal burden on others, usually in self-righteous anger because they know they themselves are failing to obey. These kind of “believers” are typically, angry, intolerant and unloving and this kind of thinking is called legalism and its effect on individuals and congregations continues to be devastating.

The Curse of Legalism

The first experts in this kind of behavior were the pharisees whose descendants are alive and well in many churches today. How many unsaved people and former church-goers today simply shrink back in horror at any mention of accepting Christ as Lord and Savior because their experience of the church and its Christians is one of rigid obedience to a long list of do’s and don’ts. I’ve spoken with mature adults who were talented athletes in their youth but could not pursue their talents because their well-meaning, bible-thumping parents would not permit them, saying all sport was a tool of the devil. It reminds me of a scene from the famous movie, “Chariots of Fire” where the Scottish Olympic gold-medalist, Eric Liddell comes out of church one Sunday morning to a soccer ball bouncing down the hill into his hands, followed by two breathless lads who were chasing it. “Can I have my ball back, sir?”, said one of the Lads. “D’ye no ken whit day this is?” Liddell replied with a smile. “Aye, sir, it’s the Sabbath day”, the lad replied. “Then you shouldna be playin fitba’ on the Sabbath”, he added as he handed back the ball. That scene brought a flood of memories back to me because the Scotland I grew up in locked up all the swing parks, closed all the putting greens, swimming pools, locked up all the stores on Sundays so that people would not be tempted to sin and fail to keep the Sabbath Holy. Boy! how things have swung to the opposite extreme today.

As Christians, we are NOT required to live according to God’s law! I will repeat that: As Christians, we are NOT required to live according to God’s law! That may sound like heresy to many but I can’t emphasize enough that living that way will kill you and possibly kill many of your Christian friends. It has certainly killed some of mine. We are called to live by FAITH, recognizing that Christ has delivered us from the curse of the law as explained in Galatians Chapter 3 . Read through the rest of this chapter starting at verse 1: “O foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you..” and you will see how foolish we are to think that we can ever please God by looking up His law and then trying to apply it to our lives. IT WILL NEVER WORK because Christ has already destroyed the works of the law and called us to walk by FAITH in Him, recognizing He has already dealt with the demands of the law through His shed blood. It’s our faith in Jesus that tells us we are living in a way that pleases Him. Most believers are very familiar with Paul’s agonizing statements from Romans 7, especially verses 19 and 24: “For the good that I will to do, I do not do; but the evil I will not to do, that I practice.” (19) and “ “O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (24) but they overlook his other statements in verse 6 “But now we have been delivered from the law, having died to what we were held by, so that we should serve in the newness of the Spirit and not in the oldness of the letter (of the law).” and they fail to read on into Romans 8: “There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit. 2 For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has made me free from the law of sin and death”. We are called to walk in the liberty of the Spirit because through Christ we are dead to the law Old Testament Law of do’s and dont’s (Galatians 5:13).

Self Checkup on How You are Living

If you want to know whether you are following the Law of sin and death or the law of liberty in Christ Jesus, check your reaction to the following situation: You are driving along a highway and just ahead of you, you see a parked car with a police officer holding a radar gun pointed towards you. If your eyes immediately jump to your speedometer and your foot automatically jumps off the accelerator to the brake, you are living in fear of the law because you suspect you are speeding and you don’t want a(nother?) ticket but if you are living your life trusting in Jesus to guide you every moment of every day, you simply carry on driving and wave to the police officer knowing that the Holy Spirit within you told you a few minutes beforehand to lift your foot off the pedal because you are going too fast! What a joy it is to be living in a way that makes us unafraid because we know our faith in Him will keep us obedient to the law that He has delivered us from. I’ll be the first to confess I don’t always live that way but the older I get the more I’m learning to lean on Jesus just as the old song says. That’s the antidote to our tendency towards legalism—reminding ourselves that we are following Him, not His Law. The misery and devastation that legalism continues to cause could all so easily be avoided by simply trusting Him to lead us aright.

Where to Find the Balance

Perhaps this all sounds too easy. It isn’t. For many of today’s church-going generation, it’s been very easy to condemn such old fashioned legalism and religious rigidity and use it as an excuse to live with the “live-and-let-live” approach where anything goes and nothing is sinful if it feels good and doesn’t offend anyone. These are those who find the word “sin” more offensive than any four-letter swear-word and who refuse to deal with its consequences in their lives and in the lives of their fellow church-members. They may belong to “user-friendly” churches who preach a feel-good gospel of “if it ain’t fun, then we’re done!” led by liberal preachers who openly welcome all who will come but never challenge those who are living together without marriage, same-sex couples and others living sinful lives while they themselves fail to practice what they preach. They reinterpret the bible to fit their aberrant lifestyles and the devastating result has been the downfall of so many traditional denominations (Catholic, Presbyterian, Anglican, Lutheran, Baptist and many others) that have split wide open based on their interpretation of what constitutes sin. How tragic! Indeed, the result of all this spreads much further into society than the current state of many churches because it is the Church that has held society together these past two millennia, despite a long history of wars and rumors of wars. Jesus Christ is not coming back for a beat-up, bruised, powerless Bride but for one that is “without spot or blemish” (Ephesians 5:27) and He is coming back—soon! The question we must answer is: will we be part of it or will our lot be with those whom Jesus describes in the last days in Luke 13 and Matthew 24 as those who fall away because their love for Him has grown cold and lifeless? As deception and corruption sweeps across the nations at this time and war breaks out in Israel; as floods surge across many nations and countries; and earthquakes destroy thousands of homes and kill many people, let all of us who claim salvation through Christ alone fall on our knees and cry out to God for the greatest revival the world has ever seen and let it begin in me and you and you.

#christianity

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obsessivefangirl · 1 year

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Hey. I heard you were a Christian, and if you don’t mind me asking, there’s something on my mind I can’t think of anyone else to go to about this

So… Do/Did you ever have moments where you question the thought process behind the idea that queer people’s existence doesn’t go against anything stated in the Bible? Don’t get me wrong- I truly do want to believe they don’t, it’d be a real shame for so many great people to be destined to go to hell over something they can’t control, but I just can’t seem to shake the feeling that there’s something I’ve overlooked that can’t be interpreted in a way that works in their favor

It’s just that nothing I know about it feels quite right. Or maybe I’m just receiving mixed signals, more accurately. “Sexual immorality”, whenever it’s mentioned, almost feels deliberately vague in how it never specifies exactly what it means. But at the same time, everyone around me sounds so confident that it’s in there somewhere, and it leads me to think there’s some missing part of the picture I just haven’t found yet. And no matter how much I pray for me to find this hypothetical missing thing, it never shows up

If you or anyone you know has been in a situation like this, what did you, or they, do?

Don't worry, I'm happy to help! I've had those worries before when struggling with my identity.

Now other queer Christians may have different opinions, as the Bible, and most religious scriptures, is complicated! It went through thousands of years, 2,000 even for the newest books in it, and it's riddled with metaphors and similies, not to mention God didn't make it, but He told humans the story who wrote it down, but not word for word perfectly.

A lot of people point to the Leviticus verse, "Man shall not sleep with man" But, as we established, the Bible is old. This leads to translation errors. But this isn't even a "What if," we know what it originally was!

It was "Man shall not sleep with boy" condemning pedophilia. But let's ignore that. This was Leviticus, where a lot of stuff is told to His people that we do (Even cutting hair!) And it said pigs were unclean to eat, but later in the Bible, He says no animal is unclean. As the world changes, the law changes. God the Father had righteous revenge and anger, but Jesus taught us to show mercy and love. Not to mention Christianity has done this with a lot of things (including left handed people!)

But even if that was a sin, that doesn't mean they're going to hell! We sin every day, cishet or queer! Jesus brought us the gift of eternal life, gay or not.

Being a queer Christian really opened my eyes to how Christianity has two major branches: people who follow Jesus, and people who follow the warped version of the Bible. Jesus was born to illegal immigrants out of wedlock and then preached love and the Word and said people were taking some things too hard, and people hated him for that. I think if Jesus came today, most Christians would hate him.

If you're a Christian or questioning, I would suggest reading the Gospel and trying to connect to Him!

#ask #anon

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fidei · 2 years

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The delightful book of the psalms

The Explanations of the Psalms by Saint Ambrose: Psalm 1

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gingersnaaps · 3 years

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ctrl + shift + n

you should always remember to close your tabs - especially your tabs of tumblr smut, and especially around miya atsumu.

wc: 1.6k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, noncon, fingering, panty gag, finger sucking, condescension, super meta, fem!reader with internal genitals, college!au

a/n: i feel like this has been done before but i’ve had this concept on my mind for a while

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

Miya Atsumu. Star volleyball player at your college. Undeniably talented. Riddled with scholarship offers and professional opportunities. Infuriatingly attractive.

Also: a terrible group project member.

“Just lemme have a look,” he whines, grabbing at your laptop. “It’ll only take a few seconds. Promise.”

It’s a heroic task, ignoring him. It almost takes as much brainpower as doing his portion of the project for him.

Your eye begins to twitch as his perfectly-filed fingernails intrude at the edge of your screen, obscuring part of the slide you’d been working on. Technically, he should have been the one doing them, but as much of a genius as he may be at volleyball(this fact was grudgingly admitted after you’d watched him play once), he was utterly useless when it came to anatomy and physiology.

And you really, really, needed to end the semester without failing.

The cool metal of the laptop slips out of your grasp, and you roll your eyes so hard that you think they might get stuck in your head.

“Just wanted to see what you’d been workin’ on,” Atsumu says sheepishly. He’s sitting at the opposite end of your couch, legs kicked up and crossed on the coffee table, and the bright screen disappears from view as he begins clicking through the slideshow. “Not bad,” he muses. He presses a few more keys.

His face suddenly changes, a brow quirking as his eyes darken.

“What?” you snap. “Should’ve done it yourself earlier if there’s something you don’t like.”

He jumps slightly, startled by your harsh reaction. “No,” he says quickly. Too quickly. “It’s good. I like it.”

One more thing to note about Miya Atsumu, you thought to yourself: he was probably terrible at poker.

He returns the laptop to you, as promised, and hums idly as you resume working. The two of you sit in silence, but it’s not exactly comfortable - after the awkward exchange, there’s a layer of tension that hangs thick and heavy in the air. The air conditioning drones on in the background, like white noise meant to soothe, but it worms its way into your conscious mind and sits there, just noticeable enough to be irritating. Aside from that, it’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Of course, he’s the one to break the silence.

“Didn’t know you were into that kinda’ stuff.”

You freeze.

“Didn’t think that a girl like you would ever be lookin’ at something so messed up.”

Panic clenches at your stomach, and you reply carefully, voice measured and cold. “What are you talking about?”

“Should really be more careful about which tabs you leave open,” he chuckles.

You scan the cluttered row of tabs at the top; there’s nothing missing. Your eyes dart around the screen frantically -

There’s an incognito window open along your taskbar.

“Rough sex, violent sex, rape? Jesus christ, sweetheart.”

You click nervously, and on the screen, clear as day, is the fic you’d been reading earlier that morning. It’s one of the blogs you frequent - normally one of your favorite places to scroll through after a nasty day - but right now, it seems almost sinister, black font on a white background staring back accusingly as your skin prickles under his gaze. You swallow; a heavy, sinking feeling squeezes at your chest, closes up your throat, makes you feel like you’re dry drowning.

He grabs the laptop back. He’s sitting a lot closer now.

“I mean, just look at this shit. You really want this, huh?”

“No, I- I don’t.” Your voice sounds foreign, far away - you feel like you’re underwater, and your denial sounds guilty even to your own ears.

His lips graze your ear, the warmth of his body spreading to yours as he slides an arm around waist.

“If you wanted to be raped, angel,” he whispers, a terrifying grin stretched wide across his face. “All you had to do was ask.”

He laughs at his clever little joke, and pulls you onto his lap.

You feel numb, paralyzed, unable to fight back or move at all as his hands glide along your inner thighs, kneading the soft, puffy, flesh, spreading them apart until you’re straddling his lap. He pulls your hair to one side and starts kissing along your jaw, rough and sloppy, sharp teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw as you shiver.

He punctuates his words with a harsh squeeze to your thigh, thumb brushing dangerously close to your cunt. “I bet you were getting off t’ this, weren’t you?” he hisses. “Bet you were just dripping down your thighs, squirmin’ around ‘n moaning, fantasizing about some scary man who just takes what he wants.”

The dull, pained, look in your eyes reads like defeat to him, sending a thrill of pleasure through his veins. He’s right, isn’t he? He’s fuckn’ spot on about your little habits, your little fantasies, and he’s gonna make sure that all your dreams come true.

“Let’s do this exactly how it’s written out, how’s that sound? Follow along with your cute story ‘nd everything,” he muses, scrolling down the page. “Starts out with her - you - getting fingerfucked.”

It’s as if those words break some sort of dam inside you, a flurry of tears and sobs heaving out of your chest as his fingers trail up to your clothed clit. You squirm back and forth in his lap, ass rutting against his hardening cock. “Don’t want it,” you whimper. “Don’t make me. Please.”

“Playin’ along, angel? That’s cute.”

He peels your skirt off of you, thumbs hooking around the waistband of your panties as he pulls them off and stuffs them in your mouth. You can taste yourself on the damp fabric that clings to the roof of your mouth, spit soaking through as your whines and protests become muffled.

Fingers spread your pussy apart, sliding and squelching embarrassingly in the slick, your skin cold and exposed in the open air. As he rests his thumb lightly on your clit, he quirks his lips at the way your heartbeat thrums in your cunt, your pussy twitching as you clench around nothing.

Best part is that you like this, that you're turned on by this, he thinks. The fat, silvery, tears streaming down your face mean absolutely nothing when you’re so obviously into it.

He thrusts a long, thick, finger in, all the way to the last knuckle, the calloused pad of his fingertip brushing up against your spongy walls as your pussy contracts and squeezes him tight. “So eager,” he coos. “It’s jus’ like you always imagined, huh?”

You sniffle as the outline of his cock presses into your ass, rutting his hips against you and moaning from the delicious friction of the fabric. There’s nowhere for you to go, one large hand squeezing your waist and holding you down, the other fucking you backwards into his broad chest.

He crooks his finger; you sob, body drawn taught with pleasure, and he pushes another inside as you spasm. He’s good with his hands, unfairly good, his thumb nudging against your sweet clit in circles as his fingers scissor your walls and stretch you out so good. It’s as if you’re his little puppet, jerking around whenever he drags his fingers roughly against your g-spot, crying out through your stuffed mouth as blunt teeth sink into your neck and his tongue runs along the ridge of your ear.

“You’re makin’ a mess, pretty girl,” he murmurs, watching in delight as you flush with shame. “Dripping into my palm and all down your thighs, just like the girl in the story.”

You turn your head, trying to look away, but he grabs at the hinge of your jaw and forces you to meet his gaze. It’s taunting, cruel - he looks so pleased with himself as he fingers you until your thighs start trembling, walls clenching erratically as pleasure builds and builds.

His grip on your face turns tight, pressing bruises into your skin as you cream and gush around his thick digits. The orgasm crashes down on you in waves of pleasure, his fingers fucking you through it with constant probing and circling and stimulation.

His nimble fingers pluck the panties from your mouth, soaked with drool, and tosses them aside onto the floor. “Open up,” he says, prying at your mouth.

Your jaw goes slack, falling open, too tired to put up a fight as he shoves his fingers in. You’re not sure there’s much of a point. You suck sloppily, tongue laving around his digits, cleaning your cum off of him as he shoves his hand in deeper, making you gag and retch, and he moans loudly at the sight. You look so perfect - his precious little angel choking on his fingers, eyes watering and body trembling as you do everything he makes you.

You’re shivering when he withdraws his fingers with a pop.

He helps you put your clothes back on, wet panties sliding across your skin and leaving trails of shining slick. It sticks and clings to your pussy, makes you feel all filthy and used, and bile rises in your throat. Goosebumps ripple down your thigh at the sensation of cool air.

Atsumu nuzzles at your neck, fingers patting at your spent pussy, his tenderness almost mocking, and clicks back to the slideshow you’d been working on.

“Let’s save the cock for after you get us the A, hmm?”

1K notes · View notes

sunder-soul · 3 years

Text

𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖛𝖊

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Chapter Two: He’s very, very beautiful. Black hair in tidy waves, dark, hooded eyes lined with sooty lashes, full lips, angled jaw, and all his fine features illuminated by the glow from the pub behind you. If you’d met him anywhere else you might have blushed, but here, now, you have to resist the urge to arch a brow. Wordcount: 2.3k Content warning: language, allusions to bigotry.

Story Tags: @crazytwentythrees

Permanent Tags: @jujugentle @weirdowithnobeardo @pearlstiare @fromthehellmouth @whoevenfrickenknows @moatsnow @voidmalfoy @lucys-brain @sunles @arana-alpha @tallyovie @expectoscamander @nothinghcppens @itsjustfics @mikariell95 @suicide-sweetheart636 @toasterking

McCollin slams the Records Room logbook down on your desk and you nearly jump out of your skin. “I told you to drop it,” he says coolly.

Your initials are scribbled on the page half a dozen times over the past two weeks. You look up at him wide-eyed. “I…”

“You were only supposed to watch that stupid trial once,” he interrupts, eyes hard.

“Look, I’ve found stuff, McCollin! Merope Gaunt? She ran away with Tom Riddle, for Christs’ sake, they got married and everything! That’s why Morfin was talking about her in his trial!”

He falters, brow furrowing. “How did you find out that –”

“I’ve been doing some work on the case – off hours,” you add hastily at his expression, “and look, I know you said it was pretty cut and dry, but in that whole trial no one actually asks him why he did it –”

McCollin laughs a little unkindly. “No one asked him why he did it? Do you hear yourself? Didn’t you just say his sister married a Muggle?”

“Yeah but she died ages ago,” you say desperately, leaning forward.

“Why does that matter?”

“Morfin was released from Azkaban in ’28 and came home to find his sister gone. He lived right around the corner from those Muggles, McCollin, so why did he wait fifteen years to kill them?”

McCollin gives you a deeply sceptical look. “Your problem is that he didn’t kill them sooner?”

“My problem is there’s no reason that he didn’t kill them sooner!” you correct. “If he’s really such a nutcase, why did it take him that long to get revenge on the Riddles?”

“Maybe he didn’t know who she’d run off with until then,” he shrugs.

“Then how did he suddenly find out in ‘43?”

McCollin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, kiddo, I’m gonna do you a favour. I’ll let all this slide if you drop this thing now and stop letting it distract you.”

You gape at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“But I’ve found –!”

“I don’t care what you’ve found, I need you to do your job,” McCollin snaps, waving at your desk. “So some pure-blood nutter murdered some Muggles because his sister ran off with one of ‘em, what in Merlin’s name is so hard to understand about that?”

“She had a kid with him!” you hiss.

He hesitates again. “You found a birth certificate?”

“No, but she died in a Muggle orphanage and was buried in the pauper’s yard, what do you think happened?”

McCollin, for the first time, looks somewhat doubtful. “Case never mentioned a kid…” he says slowly.

Hope sparks in your chest. “And where was Tom Riddle whilst his wife died in childbirth, huh? Where did the kid end up? Did Morfin know about them? Did Riddle even know?”

McCollin exhales a very fatigued sigh. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you.”

“No,” you say immediately.

“If you figure this out, will you get back to your actual job?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

You’re on the edge of your seat. “I promise.”

He grits his teeth. “Merlin… fine. What do you need?”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You hate Azkaban. The place is dark and cold and dripping wet, the dementors never stay quite far enough away, and the screams and sobs of the prisoners within the black stone stick in your heart for weeks afterwards.

“In and out,” McCollin mutters, pulling off his hat and casting the dementor beside you an aspersing look. “Five minutes, kiddo, and then we’re gone.”

You nod quickly and step down the long, dark corridor, peering at the parchment in your hand and checking it against the cell numbers scratched into the stone on either wall. You find him around the corner. Cell 75191.

You lift your lit wand, squinting into the darkness. “Morfin…?”

There’s the faint clinking of chains and then a skin-crawling hiss that makes your heart clench in fear, followed by a rasping, phlegmy cackle.

“Morfin Gaunt?” you try again, catching sight of movement in the corner of the cell, a figure hunched there.

He only hisses again.

“I don’t speak Parseltongue, Mr Gaunt,” you say with a forced calm, “I’m here to talk about the Riddles.”

Morfin spits at the ground. “Riddles,” he growls. “Fucking Riddles, fucking filthy Muggle Riddles in their filthy stinking house, got what was coming didn’t they? Got what they deserved in the end –”

“You knew about Merope and Tom Riddle, didn’t you, Mr Gaunt?” you interrupt, hands shaking in the aching cold. You bury your non-wand hand in your pocket in vain – the chill of the prison is all-permeating.

“Filthy Riddle… filthy scumsucker…”

“Why did you kill the Riddles in 1943?”

He barks a hideous laugh. “Muggle scum they were, had it coming, saw the light leave their eyes at the end of a wand like was intended, not my sister, not my family –”

“Why did you wait, Mr Gaunt?”

There’s silence. Your heart thrums nervously.

“You got home in 1928 but you didn’t kill the Riddles until 1943… Why didn’t you kill them sooner?” you press carefully.

Morfin doesn’t reply for a moment, and then – “Muggle scum,” he mutters a little dolefully.

“Yes but what changed?” you say, patience fraying a bit. “What changed in 1943? Did something happen?”

“Scourge of the earth… got to get rid of ‘em all, that Grindelwald fellow had the right idea, get rid of ‘em –”

There’s a sound like a heavy door closing in the distance and you’re suddenly very aware that you don’t have a lot of time left. “Did you know about Merope’s child?” you ask pressingly.

Morfin descends into a coughing fit and spits what sounds like a hefty wad of mucus onto the floor of his cell. “Knew it,” he says darkly, “I knew it, that slut…”

“You knew?”

“Looked just like him, didn’t he?” he snarls.

“Who?” you say at once.

“He looked just like that nasty, filthy, disgusting Muggle… Well, they’re all dead now.” He laughs nastily again. “Rotting in the ground where they belong, Muggle scum…”

You can hear McCollin calling for you but your head is spinning. He waited… he waited fifteen years…

If Merope’s son had been born at the end of ’26, he would have been sixteen in July of ’43.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“I know why he waited,” you breathe to McCollin the second you’re back in the safety of the Ministry.

“Why?”

“I know why he waited to kill the Riddles – Merope’s son came to find him – maybe he was looking for his family, he probably grew up in that orphanage – he really did only find out about her kid in ’43 and it made him snap and –”

“Slow down,” McCollin frowns, hand on your shoulder. “What are you saying?”

“You have to get me access to Morfin’s memory of that day,” you say intensely.

His face and his hand fall in unison. “You said that if I got you in to see Morfin, you’d let it go,” he says sharply.

“I know but Jesus McCollin! Shouldn’t we find her son?”

“This is getting out of hand,” he mutters, turning and walking off across the huge entrance hall.

“Please,” you say, following him. “Please! I –”

“No,” he says flatly.

“But –!”

“What, you want to watch murders now?”

“McCollin, just listen –”

“I’m serious, drop it,” he drawls, stepping into an elevator and turning to point at you. “I don’t wanna hear you say the name Riddle again.”

The elevator dings, the door slides shut on McCollin’s serious face, and you sigh in frustration.

“Riddle?”

Your head lifts in surprise. The voice had come from beside you, a very formally-dressed old man with curated grey hair, gold glasses, and a haughty expression. “Yes, sir…?” you ask slowly.

“Ah yes, a real shame, all that,” the man sighs, looking up at the elevators expectantly.

You blink. You recognise the man from around the Ministry, but you can’t think of a single conceivable reason why a senior member of the International Confederation of Wizards knows the name of a Muggle murdered eight years ago. “…Yes, it was.”

“Such a waste,” he shakes his head sagely. “He could have gone far.”

You don’t know what to say. “You’re… you’re talking about Tom Riddle, sir…?”

“Yes, of course,” the man titters, “Slughorn recommended him to me personally – assured me he’d go far. A real talent, he said.”

Something is definitely not right, but the man’s elevator dings and he steps inside at once, expensive robes swirling as he turns. “To end up in Knockturn Alley of all places,” he sighs, “and to think... the boy could have been Minister for Magic one day.”

The doors shut before your gobsmacked face.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“So let me get this straight,” Mori says lowly, setting down another drink for you. “You think the kid’s here? In Knockturn Alley?”

“I think so,” you murmur as Mori takes your empty glass away. “Either that or some poor schmuck with the exact same name as a murdered Muggle is walking around completely unrelated to all this shit.”

“Have you found anything on the kid?”

You nod blankly. “Looked up the name and found a ton of stuff straight away – star pupil at Hogwarts, won a ton of awards, Prefect, Head-boy –”

“Sounds like a square,” Mori snorts.

“He fell off the map a bit after school,” you frown, leaning forward on your forearms. “Found an address from a few years back but doesn’t seem up-to-date. The guy definitely mentioned Knockturn Alley though, so –”

“If you told me a name, I’ll probably know him.”

You shoot him a nervous look. “I dunno, Mori, I’m really pissing McCollin off with this already. If he finds out I’m leaking names –”

“Well I’ll tell you this for free, no one down this way’ll take kindly to someone in Ministry robes poking their nose around,” he says darkly.

You sigh and take a sip from your drink. “I know.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You leave just past midnight, giving Mori a wave as you grab your cloak and head for the door, already reaching for your wand to Apparate as you push it open –

You walk straight into someone. “Oh,” you exclaim, stepping back. “I'm so sorry.”

“Not at all.”

You look up at the voice in surprise, smooth and pleasant and velvety. The face behind it is even better; he’s very, very beautiful. Black hair in tidy waves, dark, hooded eyes lined with sooty lashes, full lips, angled jaw, and all his fine features illuminated by the glow from the pub behind you as he pushes the door wide and holds it for you, stepping aside with a polite twist to his lips to let you out first.

If you’d met him anywhere else you might have blushed, but here, now, you have to resist the urge to arch a brow. He’s not exactly what you’d normally expect from customers of Moribund’s.

“Thank you,” you say evenly, stepping past him and rather theatrically hoping he’s not some sort of pretty-faced creature that would strike when your back’s turned –

“You’re from the Ministry?”

You hesitate. His question was perfectly curious and well-warranted – the purple robes you were still wearing were also not what one might normally expect from customers of Moribund’s. “I am,” you say quietly, pulling out your wand.

“Are you here on business or for pleasure?” he smiles a little. It makes him even more beautiful. It makes you more suspicious.

“A bit of both,” you say truthfully, thinking of your conversation with Mori.

“Rather strange for someone of your profession to patron a place like this,” says the young man, head tilting a fraction.

You hesitate for a moment, but if he intends on giving you trouble, it feels like a good idea to establish that you have people looking out for you around here. “I’m friends with the barman.”

“In which case it's odd I’ve not seen you more, then,” he says very smoothly, the little twist to his lips returning, “since I’m something of a regular.”

But you’ve had quite enough. “You’re letting the warmth out,” you say politely, inclining your head at the door he’s still holding open as you lift your wand. “Enjoy your drinks.”

“Would you care to join me?”

You hesitate, eyes flicking back to the young man. His head is still tilted slightly as he watches you, and suddenly you can’t tell if the curl to his lips is more attractive or unnerving.

“I’d very much like the company,” he smiles, white, straight teeth, too handsome, too gorgeous.

Alarm bells are going off in your head. Too smarmy. He knows he’s beautiful, that much was certain, and something about him is giving you the creeps in a way that feels strangely familiar. Like you’ve met him before. “No,” you say clearly, “but thanks for the invitation.”

“Ah, I should have known that someone like you would already be spoken for,” he says with a knowing nod, charming and good-natured.

“No,” you frown. You can’t tell what’s rubbing you the wrong way about him, but there’s something.

His brow lifts slightly, like your response surprised him. “Not a fan of the drink, then?”

You snort a light laugh. “No, I am.”

There’s a beat of silence. “An early morning, perhaps?” the young man says just as lightly – though there’s a very faint edge to his expression that you clock at once. He can’t figure out why you’ve rejected him. What an arrogant asshole…

You sigh a bit shortly, liking him less by the second. “Goodnight,” you say pointedly, trying to lift your wand again but –

“Have I offended you somehow, madam?” he asks, sounding slightly amused. “If I have it wasn’t my intention to do so.”

You shoot him a look that is unapologetically annoyed. “You haven’t offended me, you’ve disrespected me,” you say curtly.

His eyes sparkle, his lips curl even more. “By asking you to join me for a drink?”

“By refusing to take my answer graciously,” you retort smoothly, “I said no. I don’t appreciate being cajoled.”

Some of the humour dissipates from his face, and you seize the opportunity to escape.

“Goodnight.”

And you lift your wand in a swift motion and vanish before he can interrupt again.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Reply/message me to get added to the tag list! 💖

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle imagines #harry potter #FIL #dark tom #minific #white dove

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vixenpen · 4 years

Text

To Resist Temptation pt. 1

(THIS FIC IS RIDDLED WITH BLASPHEMY!! I, myself, am not religious (actually an atheist) but this idea has been on my mind for a while. It is never my intention to mock or disrespect anyone’s personal beliefs. With that said, if you are a person of faith this fic may not appeal to you. It’s not to be taken as a serious representation of the faith it portrays! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNEDDDD!!!!)

(Trigger warnings: religious themes, succubus, authority kink, degradation, god complex/kink)

(Art by: @kadeart )

You chanted your prayers of protection under your breath quietly.

Every nervous thud of your heart seemed to pound in your ears as you ascended the steps to the large white brick chapel.

“Keep yourself safe. Seek salvation, and temptation won’t overtake you.”

The temptation won’t overtake me.

The mantra echoed in your mind over and over.

You smoothed your dress, hoping you looked appropriate. The clingy Sunday sundress fell just above your knees and didn’t expose too much of your cleavage. Of course it was impossible for you not to look tempting. Even just a bit. It was in the switch of your hips. The gleam in your eyes. The natural scent you gave off. It was, quite literally, in your blood. Not that any of this was your choice...

You shook the thoughts away, opened the heavy door of the church, and slipped inside.

“To walk without God is to wander without a true purpose.”

The congregation responded accordingly with hums of approval and agreement. Keigo continued.

“To stray from god’s path is to—“

His amber eyes fell on the late comer. A woman who stood out against the mostly somberly dressed masses in her pastel church dress. She kept her head ducked as she found a seat in the front row. Once she faced him, a soft content smile settled on her beautiful face.

Oh...she was stunning...

Soft, smooth looking skin, eyes that smoldered, lush lips, hard nipple-

What? No. Not here. Not now.

Everybody was watching him. Waiting. Keigo hadn’t even realize that he’d stalled for so long. Reluctantly he dragged his gaze away from the beautiful new comer and continued his sermon.

“T-to stray from God’s path, is to invite unrest into your soul.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keigo enjoyed these times best. The dark, contemplative silence of the confession booth. Just a holy man and God. The times between members coming to make their confessions felt peaceful and sacred.

He liked to stay behind a couple hours after service and a couple hours beforehand for his congregation. But it was just as much for himself as it was for them.

He rested against the wooden back, eyes closed in an almost meditative manner. Although his mind was far from clear. His thoughts kept wandering back to the mystery member who had slipped in late and gazed at him so enraptured. How her lips remained parted slightly, and everytime she crossed and uncrossed her legs, the hem of her dress rose a little more...

He shook his head mussing his tousled blonde hair even more. Those thoughts weren’t appropriate for a holy man. A man in such a sacred place. He couldn’t allow his mind to wander to such places.

The scuffling of someone entering the booth roused Keigo out of his thoughts.

“Um...hello?”

He held back a chuckle.

“Yes?”

“Oh! Uh, yes, hi! I’m sorry father I’ve never done this before.”

The disembodied female voice stammered nervously. Keigo squinted as he tried and failed to place the voice, and then he realized; it was you.

“Th-this is my first confession, and I’m not sure what to do. Can you help me?”

“O-of course,” he stammered back. He coached you through what to say, biting back a moan when you said: “Bless me father, for I have sinned.”

He pressed a hand to his stirring member. Sensing your hesitation. Your innocence despite the wicked beauty you possessed. How cute. How naive.

“This is a safe place, you can tell me what is troubling you.”

“Well...I have these urges..”

“What sort of urges?”

“It’s like...this hunger,” you replied, voice taking on a slight rasp that shot straight to the handsome priests dick. “I want,” your voice dropped into a soft whisper, “I want sex all the time. Day and night. Sometimes I see strangers and I want to give myself to them right then and there.”

Oh god...

Keigo’s mind was reeling from the salacious words dripping from your pretty mouth. He had known it. He knew someone that angelically beautiful couldn’t truly be innocent. It wasn’t natural. The magnetism you possessed in your swaying hips and the way it juxtaposed your soft expressions.

“F-father?”

Keigo coughed. “Um, yes. Go on,” he urged, “what do you envision yourself doing with these strangers?”

“Anything that could make them cum. The most depraved things. It’s as if I can see what people most desire sexually and it-it frightens me.”

You are a holy man, Keigo. A good man of faith.

The young priest told himself as his hard on strained.

“Father, what should I do? I don’t want to give in to the temptation. I don’t want to be corrupted or currupt others.”

“You must remember, that temptation is not sin itself.“ he replied.

Be strong. Don’t give in to temptation. He stroked his painful erection gently. This woman needs you. This poor lost soul...

“You still have a chance to turn away from temptation and turn to Jesus as your answer.”

“How though, father? When temptation is all around me. Even today I—“

His throat went dry.

“Today?” He pressed. “What do you mean today?”

“It’s shameful, father.” You replied rubbing your thighs together.

The desire pooling between your legs massaged the lips of your womanhood, sending pleasure through out your body.

You had chosen this new church home at random at the behest of your mother. The older you got, the stronger your succubus side became. Soon it might overtake you completely. Until you were a sex driven demon. Like your incubus father. The no good demon who had impregnated your mother.

It was your greatest fear whenever you looked in the faces of strangers who attracted you, whether it was physically or mentally. That you would infect them with your own curse and bear more cursed children.

But it was also so achingly tempting that it hurt sometimes. The toys you had bought didn’t help. The other incubus/succubus men and women you secretly convened with didn’t help.

You knew that you needed humans. Pure, untainted humans...

But you hadn’t expected a priest so handsome. So strong and self assured in his word. Hadn’t expected the hooded golden eyes that smoldered with intelligence and the desire of a young man who had repressed himself for so long that he ached for release. The burden of all the marriages he had severed at former churches because of his affairs with the men and women of his congregation and how it weighed heavy on his mind. Best of all, you knew he would do it all again just to feel that sweet release.

And God, as if regular humans weren’t tempting enough, fallen holy ones were the embodiment of desire.

“I know what you want the most, father,” you practically moaned. The honeyed cadence of your voice like a siren song to a mortal. You tried so hard to fight it, but you could no longer help it with the stench of his desire and lust filling your nose. “You want someone to run their fingers through that beautiful golden hair of yours while they lock you between their thighs. You want someone to beg you for their release. You want this so much that it frightens you too, doesn’t it? It almost aches. I could see it watching you today.

The priest was stunned silent. Afraid that if he did dare say anything it would be to ask the stranger to tell him more. More of his sinful thoughts. More of her own sinful thoughts. More about why the urges he had successfully kept at bay for five years now had come back to the forefront of his mind at full force when he looked at her.

Mindlessly, he pulled out his throbbing dick and rubbed the viscous spill of desire leaking from the head around the top before spreading it along the thick shaft.

You can’t, Keigo! You shouldn’t! Remember your prayers. Your promise to god!

Oh but what was it again? What were those prayers? The words had twisted in his mind. What was that promise to god? Something about repentance and regret?

The thrum of pleasure that coursed through him with every stroke only made him forget those vows more.

“I-I’m sorry father,” you continued. Your voice smothered the man’s senses like a warm blanket. So soft and inviting. Just like the rest of you. “I need your help...please.”

A prayer. A promise. You will resist temptation.

“I,” he choked on the words. His mind cloudy from the warring thoughts swirling about it. “I can help you. We can beat this temptation together.”

“Thank you, father.” You sighed. “Or I believe you prefer to be called: daddy.”

(Pt.2)//(Pt.3)

#succubi #sucubus #incubi #incubus #bnha imagines #my hero academia #bnha #hawks x reader #hawks simp #bnha scenarios #mha smut #my hero fanfic #bnha smut #n/s/f/w #hawks smut

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finn-on-the-side · 3 years

Text

I binge watched a playthrough of RE7 last night, and took notes while I did so. Enjoy my stupid thoughts out of context.

Warning for spoilers of course.

I’m watching Jacksepticeyes playthrough for context.

Jesus, Ethan gets even more hand trauma??? My man gets a knife clean through it.

Motherfucker just axed his wife!!!!! No! I love her!

We get one phone call from another woman and our wife disappears 😔

Did the Beneviento manor take inspiration from this house? This feels like a gross rundown version of it

MORE HAND TRAUMA?????? a screwdriver through it this time. Ethan, honey, don’t you not even have mold powers yet? How the hell Does the first aid juice keep that hand functional?????

HIS HAND GETS CUT OFF IN THIS GAME TOO????

“Welcome to the family son” daddy? Jk jk

Weird dinner scene? Lukas sucks and I hate him. Jack is off his fucking rocker. The mother is also off her rocker but in a less violent way? Grandma is very specifically on her rocker right now

Daddy’s coming a calling. Ethan’s leg gets cut off????? And this motherfucker offers him some of the fucking first aid juice??? And it worked????????? In RE8 I accepted that because he is half mold. Isn’t he half mold cause of the end of this game???????

I know Damn well that if I wrote for this motherfucker, I could make Elliot simp for him. They’d never forgive me for it either.

I love you Zoe, are you going to betray me?

“You don’t know him, but get the feeling he’s an asshole” halshsoshoshsia lmao I fucking knew it

The whole garage scene is actually so fun. This man is fucking insane. Also? Caught on fire? Blew his own brains out?

Zoe my beloved, please don’t betray me.

This whole house really does make me think of the Beneviento manor.

Evaline? 👀

Mia my beloved, you deserve so much better than this.

Alshlsha Ethan fucking canonically refers to Jack as daddy at least once, I’m having a stroke

Horrible mold men, I hate them

Travis 🥺 he deserved better. He did his best to help Courtney

This motherfucker (jack) in ironically uses groovy while trying to kill someone

He is??? Theoretically dead?? If he can regenerate from just a pair of legs, that’s real fucking impressive

Ooh, Lucas has shown up. Does no one in the game know the word ‘dad’ or ‘father’ cause they keep just using daddy

Marguerite just telling you to fuck off and closing the door? Peak of comedy

I am trying to eat fruit! Stop showing me bugs !!!!!!

I’m able to accurately describe one of these characters as Moth Mommy. I hate this

Horrible awful big lady. This section has so much grossness and awfulness

Thank god she’s finally dead. She has a great horror design, and I hated it

Creepy little girl. Creepy creepy little girl

Come on Zoe, don’t betray me now. I got you the arm. Hopefully this makes more than just one serum.

Lucas you mother fucker. He sounds like such a creep.

So can granny teleport and move herself or is one of the family members moving her?

He’s a creep!!! I cannot wrote fluffy content for any of these characters. I’d only write for them if I were to write darker content.

Jack was a marine????

Clancy! Poor dude

I’m angry now because the whole Clancy segment was actually really good cause I love villains who are clever and deal in puzzles and riddles and shit, but Lucas is a fucking creep

This man is the fucking blueprint for heisenberg and I’m mad

I am so angry that this fucking creep is exactly my type for fictional villains

Jack is still kicking??????

🥺😭 Zoe doesn’t betray you, but you have to choose between her and Mia. The playthrough I’m watching chooses Mia, but I’ll find a clip of what happens if you choose zoe

POV switch to Mia my beloved. Wait if you’re playing as Mia, are you able to choose Zoe in the other segment? Would you play as her here?

Mia lore????? Bamf Mia my beloved

I think Evie needs a hug

Ghost? Jack comes to say hello? Zoe was also there so I assume that means she died after we left her

“He doesn’t love you” he literally fucking came out here to Louisiana and has been continually risking his life to save her??? After 3 fucking years??????

I have a hard timing blaming small children for shit like this, especially if they had a shitty childhood, so evaline deserves sympathy.

Chris?? You are not nearly as wide as you were in Re8

Clancy DLC?

This one is actually really fun, I like games like that. Also Clancy seems real handy! Shame he dies

This ones real cool too! The one with Marguerite. I really do like puzzle games. I think Clancy deserves better

Jack and Marguerite sharing a tender moment:

Clancy bleeding out beside them:

Watching the daughters dlc now. What I’m understanding is that Lucas fucking sucks, and Zoe deserves better.

Poor Clancy, the 21 dlc was super cool but poor dude. Lucas sucks and I hate him

#finn rambling #re7 reactions

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victoria-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Eighteen: The Night Before

AN: Get in losers, we’re going to Cuba.

Word Count: 3.0k

Trigger Warnings: none

Taglist: @azayamari

Chapter Nineteen: The Embargo Line

I had woken up early, as I always did. I loved watching the sunrise, the bright sun illuminated my room as I paced worriedly up and down my room. I had every right to be worried, there was the very real threat of possible war at hand. It also didn't help that I was running on three hours of sleep, at most I probably managed to get four hours of sleep. All in all, I'm a jittery mess right now.

"You keep pacing up and down, you'll put a hole in the floor," a voice quipped softly. I whirled around and saw Charles standing in the frame of the door looking dapper in his three piece suit, I didn't even hear the door open. "You're scared," he noted, still using the same tone.

"Of course I'm scared," I repeated almost incredulously, I walked over to the window. "Because what if we can't stop this? What if World War III is inevitable?" I stared out at the burning sun of the morning, overthinking.

Charles' footsteps came closer to me until he stood behind me, surrounding my waist with his left arm.

"Everything will be alright, love," he assured me with a smile.

"I hope you're right," I murmured softly, before I looked over my shoulder at Charles with a confused expression. "I don't understand, why are you being so kind to me? I...I betrayed you yesterday," I sighed, shaking my head.

"Because in some strange way I understand why you did it," Charles began, taking his free hand and pulling some of my hair behind my ear. "I know what kind of woman you are Claudia, you're kind and loving, but you hide behind an ice queen exterior because you’re afraid of what might happen if you opened yourself up to a man. You’re afraid of getting hurt again," he replied, as if the thoughts could not be contained and he just had to voice them.

Charles pulled me closer to him and placed a kiss on my temple before surrounding me with both of his arms.

"The night we first met I couldn't help but observe your behavior. You treated the men like playthings, for you, it’s better that way. Keep them at arm's length and you don't get hurt," he paused, as I slowly placed my hands on top of his. "You never said you loved me the night we danced in the library. You also avoided saying the word relationship the very next day," Charles recalled softly, and I felt a slight pang of sorrow hit me.

"I should've known that you would've observed that," I sighed in his arms, dropping my head down.

"You're afraid of being vulnerable, Claudia," Charles stated. "You're afraid that history will repeat itself. You're afraid of us failing, but I'll wait for you Claudia," he finished, pulling away and held my hand. "Come on, love, we have a long day in front of us," he said starting to walk out of the room.

Everyone met in the main foyer of the mansion, well everyone except Hank, he never appeared. Suspicious and concerned for Hank's abnormal absence we decided to go to his lab and look for him. Pinned to the wooden doors of the lab was a note written in black marker on a piece of paper that read, 'Gone to the airbase, bring the crate marked X - Hank'

Charles pulled off the note, and opened the door. Inside was a disaster. Shattered glass, broken furniture, and things strewn about. He began to make his way through the mess and we followed slowly behind him.

"What the hell happened here?" Erik asked, sounding slightly concerned. Partly for Hank's well-being, but mostly as to how he could have made such a mess. I couldn't blame him, I to was concerned as to how Hank had managed this.

Charles ignored him and headed to the crate marked 'X' and opened it, all of us peering inside, revealing a folded pile of navy blue and yellow suits.

"Hank has been busy," Erik commented, looking over Charles' shoulder.

I peered down at the suits, my nose slightly turned up in distaste, "God, this shade of yellow doesn't even suit me," I stated, earning a small chuckle from Erik.

"Do we really have to wear these?" Alex questioned, causing me to laugh softly.

Charles didn't look up from the crate, "As none of us are mutated to endure extreme G-force or being riddled with bullets, I suggest we suit up," Charles answered, with a hint of snarkiness.

Charles quickly distributed the suits and we all left the destroyed lab to go get changed into them. Raven, Moira, and I dressed in the ladies room. The suits were made of material that looked like, but wasn't quite leather. But it was surprisingly comfortable. Moira suit's was different, she wore a army green suit issued by good ol' Uncle Sam himself.

You know, it was very thoughtful of Hank to go out of his way to make these suits for the team, but he didn't really consider the possibility that the female body was slightly different to the male body. I almost broke a sweat trying to squeeze my hips and upper body into the leathery material. I looked around and could see Raven having the same problem. I left the room to see if the boys were finished getting dressed, only to see that Erik was the first person out. I tried not to stare, but Erik looked even more dangerously handsome.

The bastard.

Silently, I turned around and began to creep back into the room, I would of made it had I not stepped on a particular spot of the floor which let out a loud creak.

"Claudia?" Erik called, and my back stiffened.

I slowly turned on my heel and faced him, "Erik," I greeted, with a tight-lipped smile as I moved slightly closer to him.

"About last night-" he began.

"There's nothing to discuss," I interjected, glancing down at my hands to break his gaze. "I think the both of us made that very clear," I continued, lifting my eyes back to Erik and studying his face.

He looked a little tired and I guessed he had trouble sleeping, whether it was from our passionate kiss, argument, or possibly both I couldn't tell.

Erik sighed and just nodded his head, "Fine," he breathed out. "But Claudia, I want you to do something today not for me, but for yourself," Erik requested, taking a step forward.

"And what's that?" I asked curiously.

"Don't hold back today,"

~~~x~~~

After everybody was dressed we made our way to the airfield to find Hank. Once we reached the airbase, he was still nowhere to be found. What we did see, though, was a sleek and fast looking jet. I stared at the jet in front of me in awe. I knew Hank was a genius, but this was amazing.

"Where's Hank?" Raven asked, looking left and right for any sign of the missing scientist.

All of us turned to her not really sure how to answer her question when a voice echoed through the building.

"I'm here," a voice called out gravelly, walking towards us.

It came from right in front of us. In the blinding light from outside, a figure could be seen walking towards us. The figure looked to be taller and slightly bigger than a man. The outline got closer and it didn't look like a man quite as much anymore.

"Hank?" Charles asked, sounding puzzled.

"It didn't attack the cells, it enhanced them," Hank stated, looking down in shame. "It didn't work," he said with disappointment obviously in his voice.

Once he got closer, everyone gasped slightly. This didn't look like Hank at all. The 'man' that stood before us had a thick layer of electric blue fur covering his body. He had turned into some sort of animal. Although, Hank's signature glasses were the only thing that made him, well, Hank.

Raven reached out to him, "Yes, it did, Hank," she told him. "Don't you see? This is who you were meant to be. This is you," she caressed his cheek. "No more hiding,"

Erik cleared his throat, before he clapped his hand against Hank's shoulder, "Never looked better man," he commented foolishly.

I had to physically stop myself from slapping a hand to my forehead. Jesus Christ, Erik could be a downright idiot sometimes. Hank's hand swiftly found it's way to Erik's throat, choking him.

"Hank," Charles warned, stepping closer to him.

Hank ignored him and leaned closer towards Erik, glaring into his eyes, "Don't mock me," he growled, tightening his grip on Erik's neck.

"Hank, put him down immediately, please," Charles ordered. "Hank. Hank!" he pleaded some more.

From the looks of it, Hank wasn't letting go anytime soon and Erik's face began to turn a nasty shade of purple. As much as he probably deserved it, this needed to be stopped. I stepped forward from beside Charles and placed a hand on Hank's shoulder.

I spoke calmly, "Hank, let him go," Hank let go and Erik dropped to his knees.

Erik looked up at Hank, his voice was raspy, "I wasn't," he breathed out, and I leaned down to help Erik up.

"Are you all right?" I asked, and he just nodded.

Erik rubbed his throat, "Better now," he answered quietly just for my ears to hear.

I rolled my eyes at him, shaking my head slightly as a small smile crept on my lips.

"Even I got to admit you look pretty badass," Alex began, interrupting our side conservation. "I think I got a new name for you, Beast," Alex announced proudly, and Hank gave a growl.

"You're sure you can fly this thing?" Sean asked looking at Hank, then back at the jet.

Hank might have looked like a beast, but at the mention of the jet he was normal, geeky Hank again, "Of course I can. I designed it," he answered, and gave him a smug smile before making his way towards the jet, all of us following behind him.

~~~x~~~

We raced over the fleet of ships on the edge of Cuba with Hank in the captain's seat, Moira on the communications controls and the rest of us lined up in the seats on the sides. All of us harnessed in.

Everyone was dead silent in the jet. I could feel the fear and adrenaline from everyone. It was overwhelming, truth be told. I felt like I was going to be sick and that I was going to vomit. Each and every person were thinking of ways this mission could turn south, if we didn't make it better. If we don't pull this off, WWIII could start and everyone would die. This was something everyone and myself couldn't help but think this way.

"It looks pretty messy down there," Hank mumbled as he flew the jet around the Embargo Line.

Looking over at Charles, I watched as he raised his finger to his temple, searching for where we would find Shaw.

Charles' eyes snapped open, "The crew of the Aral Sea are all dead. Shaw's been there," he informed.

Erik leaned up in his seat and gripped the sides, "He's still here, somewhere," he insisted.

He was mad. And frustrated.

"He's set the ship on course for the embargo line!" Charles exclaimed, turning to Moira.

"That ship crosses the line; our boys are going to blow it up. And the war begins," she replied worriedly.

"And Shaw wins," I stated grimly.

"Unless they're not our boys," Charles reasoned, and we all looked to him questioningly.

I watched as he raised his finger to his temple again, screwing his face up in concentration. Moments later, chaos surrounded us. A blaring alarm went off before Hank jerked the plane into a roll trying to avoid something that was obviously come straight towards us.

"Hold on!" Charles' warning coming a bit too late.

Hank gave a snarl as tried to adjust the plane. I screamed in panic along with everybody else and felt Alex grip my arm and quickly flipped my hand around grabbed his hand as the jet went totally upside down and then finally righted as I just caught the cargo ship exploding out the window.

"A little warning next time Professor," Hank spoke back as I struggled to take a couple deep breaths.

"Sorry about that," He apologized sounding slightly embarrassed, and looked over to Raven, who had screamed right along with me. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Both she and Sean responded, but it was Sean who looked the most shaken up as he drew in a slow breath.

"You alright?" Alex asked, looking at me.

I breathed deeply once more, moving my hair out of my face, "Never been better," I quipped breathlessly.

Everyone caught their breath, "That was inspired Charles," Moira complimented dryly, while flipping some switches in front of her.

"Thank you very much, but I still can't locate Shaw," he mumbled, still holding his fingers to his temple.

"He probably wearing that helmet of his," I spoke up, gathering Charles attention.

"Then that's going to cause us a big problem," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Erik was becoming increasingly angry and frustrated, "He's down there. We need to find him now!" he urged.

"Hank?" Charles called, looking to their pilot.

"Is there anything unusual on the radar or scanners?" Hank asked Moira.

Moira took a second to respond, "No, nothing," she answered, shaking her head.

Hank was exasperated, "Well then he must be underwater," he said begrudgingly. "And obviously we don't have sonar," he continued grumbling.

"Yes we do," Sean looked determined and confident, not cocky, not like the usual Sean.

I looked over with a small smile, getting his point.

"Yes we do," Charles repeated, with renewed vigor as he quickly pulled off his headset and started to undo his harness with Erik while Sean was already moved across to the hatch by the handles in the top. "Hank, level the bloody plane," Charles shouted as he and Erik tried to move across the tilted floor, same as Sean had been doing. I felt the whoop in my stomach as he did finally allowing them to walk.

Sean looked alarmed as Erik got closer, "Whoa," he called as he turned around and saw Erik moving to cross the hatch to stand on the same side as Charles and him. "You back right off," he demanded, probably having flashbacks about his second flying lesson where Erik had shoved him off the satellite. I let out a smile and with a small chuckle, Erik raised his hands and took a step back. Sean looked to Hank.

"Beast! Open the Bombay doors!" he called up.

With wide eyes I watched as the doors opened, filling the cabin with roaring wind and could only see Charles yelling at Sean, trying to lecture him before he dropped out of the plane not before giving him a pat on the back and he took a step back. Sean positioned himself at the doors and it was then as I looked to Charles' mouth that I could see him counting down before Sean jumped out with a shout. With Hank closing the doors all of us looked to Charles while Moira warned the other ships.

Moira talked into the radio, "Alert the fleet, they may want to take their cans off,"

There was a tense silence and the only noise I could hear was the engine and the wind. Charles yelled, "Banshee's got a location on Shaw!" He turned to look at Erik. "You ready for this?" He asked Erik.

"Let's find out," he nodded and gripped onto the side of the plane as Charles relayed the information to Hank who flipped around the jet. Then slowing down he lowered the jets landing gear with Erik on one of the wheels.

A moment or two passed in silence until I could hear a rumbling sound emerging from the water. It was muffled for quite some time, until it got louder and louder. I looked out the windows and my widened my eyes in amazement, right before my eyes was Shaw's submarine floating in the air. Hank, pushed forward, making us go a little faster and higher taking it out of my view, but when Charles lunged forward I knew that something was wrong.

I felt a sudden sense of dread coming from both Charles and Erik. Something was going wrong. Very, very wrong.

Charles was desperate and I could hear him as yelled for Erik, "Erik, take my hand!"

"Hold on guys, it's gonna get bumpy!" Hank called over the headset.

It was then we all looked forward and saw it was a tornado. Like what happened at the CIA base. Only this time we were on a plane, nothing good could come of this. Quickly, I clamped my eyes shut and worked on taking a deep breath as I felt a familiar energy around my hands and then quickly pushed it around us, making my largest force field ever. Instantly the plane leveled out, but the whirlwind on the outside was eager to get in.

"I can't hold it for long!" I called, my hands beginning to shake. "Get Erik's ass in here now!" I yelled, trying to keep my hands steady.

"Erik, take my hand!" Charles shouted as it started to flicker and the jet bumped a little to the side, jolting us all and knocked my concentration a little more.

"Breathe," Alex spoke from my other side as I felt Hank jolt forward, trying to get out of the storm and it only seemed to fight back. Groaning, I felt the strain and gritted my teeth as it flickered again and we jolted.

"Let it go!" Charles shouted and I took it that Erik was inside and without warning I released the force field, sending us into a spiral.

I flicked open my eyes just as Erik pounced in Charles, pinning him to the ground like a high powered magnet as we crashed to the ground with the sound of screeching metal. The last thing I remembered, before blacking out, was seeing the plane crash onto the beach.

Chapter Twenty: The Cuban Missile Crisis

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #charles xavier fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #erik lehnsherr x oc #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #black!reader #x-men #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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