oh mein gott i just remembered a fic idea i had in between sleep earlier. i dont even know if i can like. do the concept justice its such a level of hot...
♱ 𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙. kenpachi hates you, just as you'd expect. he hates you so much he can't put it into words. kenpachi wants to hurt you, just as much as he wants to be hurt. kenpachi wants to fight. kenpachi loves the fight. kenpachi loves you.
notes: gender-neutral reader, no proof-read (messy), reader is a soul reaper in a separate squad, pre-TYBW, unhealthy dynamic, guro (fetishistic-gorey) themes, passive suicidality, violence, blood, obsessive & posessive behavior (from both)
There's something obscene about the way the captain of the 11th Division acts towards you.
It wasn't a relationship, it was barely even an acquaintanceship, and yet he thought of you each waking moment.
Kenpachi would crawl through hell to have your weapon brandished at him. He drools publicly over the idea of seeing that fearful, candid, primal look on your face. Or to bear witness to your viscera pooling beneath you when his hands tear you apart.
Each new thought made his head spin. Neither of you knew when it had gotten to this point, but he had dedicated himself to your end. One too many missed opportunities. He would have you.
And you... You'd respected him so much and for so long– His fighting style, that self-restriction, the way he would rather trap his capability in bondage than be part of an unfair fight.
“Just like Kenpachi,” you'd once said with such confidence, “I want to be as fair and just as Kenpachi Zaraki.”
Fair? Just? It seemed like nobody in the training academy understood what you'd meant by that at the time, and frankly if you hadn't proven yourself as quickly as you had you'd have been rejected from the academy under cause of insanity...
Instead, you graduated with near-perfect scores and very short-lived fame of prodigious abilities. You were called dedicated, but you knew dedication's true name, and it was much less pretty.
It didn't take long for Kenpachi to hear of your strength and become instantly enamoured; Yet somehow he missed each chance to ever witness it for himself. How frustrating. How very bitter, a taste like iron and nightshade down his throat each time.
Once, you had been sparring with another. Kenpachi had turned up– after all, you were right in his corner of the Seireitei– and he wasn't even seeking you out. But there you were, on one random day, fighting.
A simple spar, he had reminded himself. Only a fraction of your power.
It was your mistake to ever let him see it.
You denied him the fight. He hated that more than anything. To Kenpachi, you were denying him his very reason to live.
He despised you for it, and it would only get worse with time.
Avoiding him was much simpler than initially assumed. Your job was easy. Just keep as busy as possible, keep far away, and most importantly: leave a trail of your most bloody work for him to pick up the pieces...
Of course you knew what you were doing, you'd known what you wanted the moment you met him. So had he, you were certain, as he endlessly pined for your aggressions to be directed at him instead.
A fun game, and one sure to end in your demise– But how could you care when his attention was all yours; the delicious tension palpitating between you, just wondering when one another would give in and strike.
Eventually it reached a point that everyone in the thirteen court guard squads had heard about it from somewhere. After all, it was far from usual that a captain of any sort explicitly sought out a lower-ranked shinigami.
“It's lustful,” your own Captain described it, “and truly disgusting. Whatever it is you're doing to him, stop. He's creeping me out with these... incessant requests.”
And you could have, but there was little point. Zaraki had longed for the bloodshed for so long that it was just another fact of life. The craving was familiar now. You were much the same, of course. He could see it in your eyes, with every picture and every report of your existence only serving to taunt him.
The never-closed loop. The thrill of the hunt.
Some nights, he lay awake just thinking about it.
How shameful that a man so strong could not have what he wished for most.
Kenpachi of Zaraki. Your suitor. A beast, a demon, something other than human and something far beyond soul reaper; all descriptions he'd been given. All at once both right and wrong.
...How exhilarating it was to push somebody like that to their limits.
“Are you doing it on purpose?” You were once asked by his third seat, Madarame. “If you push him too far one day, he really will kill you.”
“I know,” you had sighed out in response, utterly infatuated.
The man scoffed with an unsurprised grin across his lips. “You must have a death wish– You'd do better in Squad Eleven, you know.”
You never did take up the offer, for you had long since made Kenpachi an unspoken promise–
To not lay yourself at his feet like an offering. To let him catch you. Let him kill you and devour you, as a starving wolf and his most sought after prey, ever more satisfying after strenuous effort.
And now, you had been caught. So much time had passed, and you had pushed too far, become much too cocky. Now, you were his.
You'd come face to face with Kenpachi. After the amount of time spent playing this silly game, part of you had yet to believe that the rumours going around– his violent obsession toward you– was in any way true. That part of you was vanquished as soon you saw his expression.
His chest heaved and his breathing grew ragged as he stood before you. Eyes were wild and bloodshot. Since last you'd seen him in person his hair had grown longer, and, though perhaps it was just your memory failing you, he seemed even broader– Chest splayed tight against his haori.
“You know what I want.” The Captain stated it with a daunting confidence. “And you'll keep me waiting no longer, understand?”
“You wish to fight.”
A sickening grin broke across Kenpachi's face, elated. “Damn right.”
You unsheathed your sword.
“With pleasure,” you bow as if you had just been asked to fetch him tea. Your body betrays you however, shivering with terror and anticipation.
It seemed like that response only served to anger him further, veins growing visible along his muscles before he launched at you. The sound he made was more akin to a bear than a man.
Elegant as you were frustrating, you could dodge the vast majority of his swings, each time delivering a strike of your own.
It was hard to tell if Kenpachi was restraining himself, or if your time climbing the ranks of the Seireitei had truly trained you to such an extent.
Still, you fought passionately– for Kenpachi Zaraki was with you, demanding your best. Demanding his retribution. You would give it to him if it killed you.
Ah, how grateful you would be if he were the one to land the final blow.
Dust from the dry earth quaked into the air with each of his movements, and you met him in kind with practiced, brutal swings.
With what recent damage it had sustained, your zanpakuto was not sharp and not built for such a battle. Yet through perseverance or miracle or passion it soon broke his skin. More than that... It ran clean through.
Your mistake, you soon came to realise.
In a swift motion his large hand captured your wrist– no, more like your entire forearm– and lifted you up into the air.
Your body felt like it was breaking in his grip, adrenaline swarming each crevasse of your brain with such force that the bones splintering inside you were nothing more than a passing observation.
“You...” He breathed with malice, a tone unnerving enough to pierce your chest. “So long I've waited to feel your blade, and now this is all you have to show me?”
Kenpachi shook you as if you were a broken toy.
“D'you get it?!” His scream warbled, almost sounding as tearful as he did enraged. “There is nobody else– I am your opponent!”
Your entire body was lifted and pummeled into the earth. It cracked beneath the force. Sand and sediment surrounded the battle like a veil, shielding even the gods from witnessing such brutality.
“Stop holding back!!”
It was wonderful. Truly such a beautiful sight to witness. You were glad, in a way, that it was all yours to experience.
Sweat glistened on his body, each perfect serving of skin and muscle adorned with sunlight. His eyes glowed with something otherworldly, a ferocious, golden hue that bounced from his reiatsu and adorned his entire being.
“K–enpachi... Sir...” You wheezed out as your lungs struggled to keep up. It's not right, and you know it, but an ecstatic smile drew across your lips. Your eyes seemed more alight with life than ever.
His throat constricted itself, tight and painful as strong emotions bubbled like hot molten in his stomach.
You're dropped onto the ground. You barely notice at first with how disoriented you've become.
“You dare taunt me with that voice?” His words came out through an outlandish laugh. It sputtered into a choke before he continued, “I can't imagine how long you've waited for this.”
He grabbed your sword, still plunged into his shoulder, and began to pull it out by its hilt. His breath stuttered as he did so, feeling tarnished meat pull against the blade as it exits. Delicious.
The zanpakuto exits with a beautiful flourish of deep red that makes the air smell so strongly of copper. Zaraki does not acknowledge the wound with any more than a grunt.
Your sword landed by your feet with a clatter and, through hazy vision, you scrambled to pick it up.
“Oh, come on,” Zaraki tilted his head in taunt, “show me what you've really got. Anything. Surely you've got some fancy tricks up your sleeve?” He rested his own sword behind his shoulders before crouching down– a vain attempt to meet your eye level.
With an unceremonious sound, you're readjusted and back on your feet. It was a struggle, considering the gore flowing from your head-wound and obscuring half of your vision.
“You mean...?”
“I'm sayin' you've not even used your shikai yet,” he stroked his chin in faux thought. The bloodied fingertips stain his face, carelessly caressed into that long line of scar tissue. “And here I thought you really wanted to have some fun... You really are awful.”
There's a beat of silence before a sweet sound caught Kenpachi off guard– a raw, gargled laughter that had erupted from you. He tilted his head back only to look down at you further, eyeing you with a visible confusion on his otherwise rugged face. Had he really said something funny, or were you simply such a sick individual that you were revelling in his suffering?
“Oh,” you sputtered whilst trying to regain your composure, “Kenpachi, Sir, what are you saying?” With the back of your fist, you wipe away some of the filth that ran across your face. Still with that exhuasted smile, “I would never disrespect you like that, Captain.”
The swordsman's eyes narrowed at you, his breathing picking up into a rampant, manic pace. There's that bitter feeling again, and it tasted like home.
“Disrespect?” He lunged at you, each word laced with unbridled disdain. “You refuse me for years upon years, battle each living thing you come across and ignore my offers just to– What? Spite me?!”
Theres a large, sudden slash toward your torso; One that you only barely dodge, the serrated edge of his blade catching and tearing your shihakushō. The force alone is enough to scrape your skin, and it stung like hell.
“And here you are talkin' about 'disrespect'.” Kenpachi spat.
His spiritual pressure reached a tremendous height, a weight so strong that it nearly brought you to your knees, before receding slightly like a grand bonfire that had just now reached its peak.
You exhaled with a full-body shake, unsure of whether the cause was fear, awe, or longing.
“With all due respect,” you start with a hoarse voice, and deliver a swift, hard kick to the captain's stomach, launcing yourself a distance away with the momentum. As it stood, your blade was being used more for leverage than anything else. “I think it would be unprofessional to fight on those grounds. I did not spend so many years modelling my brawls after your own... just to fight you like that.”
Kenpachi coughs up a mixture of blood and saliva, entirely unprepared for the blunt hit– For a less bulky shinigami, you packed a hefty strength into your legs that could rival one of his own swings... Something he couldn't be happier to discover.
He inhales sharply, as if savouring every sense of the battle he could. “Now you're gettin' somewhere!”
Seconds turned to minutes as you exchanged blows, and at some point between the heavy footsteps and the eerie scrape of your blades colliding you found yourself grasping your zanpakuto with both hands. It didn't escape your gaze the way that Kenpachi smirked when you finally caved into your old muscle memory, the vision of a perfect swordsman's stance.
Then, just as you were delivering a clean slice across his back with the use of a desperate, impulsive flash-step, you felt a cool metal tear into your arm. It had stopped and recoiled itself half-way, leaving the fat and muscle exposed to the air.
You didn't scream– not at first. But you stilled. You choked, and your eyes welled with salty, glittering tears. You hurt all over. But you did not scream.
Only when you tore your eyes from your injury to the man that had caused it, with his savage, broad body casting a shadow over your own, blocking you from the blistering light of the sun, did you scream.
And with the gutteral screech that tore from your throat, you attacked. You thrust toward him with all your might, every aspect of your movement the practiced outcome of all your lived experience. And yet...
‘How gorgeous,’ he thought, mouth dry with desire.
And yet...
Kenpachi dodged, softly, simply stepping out of the way.
It wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't. You knew from the beginning it wouldn't be, and yet it was precisely the experience you had desired for so many years.
With a swift motion, you were suddenly floating, your legs kicked from underneath you before you could even register it.
In that time-stilled moment, you were sure you could see one another in the deepest sense possible. You could look through Zaraki's exterior and into each violent, mechanical microcosm of his soul. He was bearing it to you, through this fight. Through his blade. Mid-air, all you knew was the pulsing of your own body, and the magnificent sight of his.
“Finally,” he screamed, his eyes utterly deranged and dilated. “You're getting what you deserve!”
He tilted his sword to the sky, and the blunt handle came down on your chest, battering you from the air and down, in microseconds, to the already brutalised ground.
A sickening crack echoed out.
It was over.
Your struggled breaths filled the silence of the courtyard, spine and skull ruptured into a bloody mess beneath you. The limb that had been struck in an attempt to brace yourself had parted from the rest of you and lay oozing, inches from your face. Still, as your vision started to dot with white, as adrenaline began to wane into sheer agony, you stared up at him.
Adoration, reverence, hatred, frustration.
Above you, Kenpachi breathed heavily, his movements heavy and slow as his face wore a devastating, emotion-filled smile.
“You... fought well.” He spoke with such a low timbre that the ground rumbled beneath you, still haloed by the light of the brightest star.
That praise, you hoped, would forever be the best send-off that anyone could be graced with.
Now the injuries he had sustained were taking a toll on him, as well. He pressed a hand against his chest and feverishly willed it to calm, but to no avail his torso continued to spasm beneath the flesh of his palms.
With a flick of his wrist, he clears his zanpakuto of the blood and skin that had accumulated along its serrated body. Then, his eyes began to draw across your form; a bruised, barely-living, hopeful thing.
And something new arose in him. A strange feeling which thrums from his chest and embeds itself into the fluids circling around his body.
It is regret and pride and a harrowing sadness. It is a sensation that burns through him entirely and marks him in a way that he may never be rid of.
“Ya–chiru...” Kenpachi whispered, tone grated with exhaustion.
From afar, a small, pink-haired girl crawled from the top branch of an old tree and landed elegantly on the ground. She took care to pat down her robes of the dirt and moss before scurrying over to her guardian.
Yachiru looked to you for a moment and a small, cat-like smile grew on her features. Then, turning her attention to Kenpachi, her body language turned visibly concerned.
He knelt graciously, allowing her to come much closer and survey the damage, whilst also allowing his knees to rest from the tremendous weight of battle.
She huffs with the manner of a tired babysitter; Looking over the lascerated cuts and scratches that Kenpachi had sustained.
“Wow, Kenny... It looks like you really took a beating. You still beat 'em though, huh?” Yachiru spoke, putting one of her tiny hands up to his forearm and dusting away some of the scorched dirt from his skin. When she speaks again, her voice turns small, “Are you gonna be... okay?”
Kenpachi grumbles something incoherent, but raises a hand to wave off her concern.
“I'll manage,” he says unconvincingly, one hand still cradling the shoulder wound you'd punctured him with. “But... Do ya think you could go fetch Captain Unohana?”
Yachiru tilts her head before she wraps her arms around Kenpachi's bicep, pulling him closer. “For you?”
“Mmhm.” He speaks with a profound, shuddering breath. “Well,” he gestures his head towards your unblinking corpse, “for both of us.”
“Kenny...” Yachiru whispers– She has an audible sadness catching in her throat. “I don't know if she's gonna be able to–”
Kenpachi meets her glance with a pleading one of his own, and his daughter quietens at the sight.
“Ask her to try,” he begs, voice hoarse from the yelling. “Please.”
Yachiru nods, and then disappears in a split-second, making her way across the grounds of the Seireitei with shunpo as fast as she could muster.
For the first time, it was just the two of you.
For the second time, Kenpachi's hatred was remoulded into something entirely different.
☤ oh my goodness, it absolutely made my day to be tagged by the wonderful @thatgirlwritingficsatnight to participate!! it's been a while since i've done a tag game, so bear with me whilst i ramble... but hey, all of you, feel free to tag me in anything you'd like!! ♡
♱ last song — “ Division Battle Anthem+ „ from the series Hypnosis Mic!! I've been trying to find the 3D (i believe it's a movie version?) music video for it without spoiling myself too much, but for now i've just been listening to a lot of the "Division All Stars"/multi-group songs from the series because they're all Really Good and Very addictive. Also DRA+ is especially fun to listen to whilst I'm getting ready for the day, it hypes me up!! <3
♱ current obsession — writing! ♡ genuinely, i've been writing So much lately (which you wouldn't be able to tell from the lack of posts) and it's been SO MUCH FUN. very very self-indulgent like 99% of the time, but it's just nice to be doing something creative again and having my brain latch onto it so much. also... deep into my bleach rewatch and finally getting through ffiller, which are like, obsessively enjoyable and i can't stop thinking about them??
♱ currently reading — i am slowly getting through an interesting book called 'Hell Followed With Us', which is an incredibly good reccomendation from a friend; the themes are on queer youth, religion and occultism, so very much my kind of fiction. but really i don't read much outside of fic these days. if i read published work, it's usually nonfiction, and just something i pick up from bookstores or libaries to quickly research. i also... don't know if i have the guts to share the fics i've been indulging in lately. ( >u<)7
♱ currently working on — a BUNCH of fic wips!! 3 overwatch (largely emre and zenny focused... who is surprised), 4 bleach (one variety post, a kenpachi drabble that evolved too much, and a Lot of work done on a some kurotsuchi fics because i am unhealthily attached to them). i'm trying to stop adding more new concepts to my workload but it's hard when my brain is giving me such a bountiful harvest of ideas!!
♱ currently wearing — blue and white pineapple-print (hawaiian-esque) shirt, khaki trousers with a bunch of paint stains and doughnut socks. if it weren't for the body i was born in, i'd look like a fisherman dad on holiday. which, yknow.... makes me happier than it should.
♱ last search — “ deltarune boss battle chapter 4 „ -- i was talking to a friend about the recent chapter release and forgot the name of the prevous boss battle enemy, so i had to look it up lolol (absolutely favourite fight in the game btwwww... so far... i haven't actually touched 5 yet, and i know i'm gonna be a weeb about it)
♱ favourite flower — honeysuckle, mostly. it's the easiest flower to forage, especially around this time of year (early summer for me)!! very cute, comes in bunches, smells ridiculously sweet!! but, i think i love all summer flowers that are local to me (UK-based flora is the only decent thing about this country). it's hard to say i really have a consistent favourite. hibiscus is my favourite non-local flower, though... so pretty <33
i'm not sure who to tag, as i'm kinda asocial, but if you see this and feel up to it... please go ahead!! pretend i tagged you or something idk!! just have fun and also have the Best day ever, ok? ♡♡♡
The canon well has almost run dry so I'm busting out the AU's, it's religious convent time. If you're unaware, a convent is a community of nun's (that's you) who often live under strict vows such as chastity (that's also you, virgin). A convent is lead by a Mother Superior (that's Moira). Just a little bit of context for you- also, this ones a little longer buttt worth it methinks.
Content: NSFW || (Religious) Coercion/manipulation || Dubcon/noncon depending on how you look at it || Soft dom Moira || Religious themes + guilt || Reader is AFAB and referred to as : Sister, Lamb, Sweet thing. || Moral corruption || Fingering || Finger sucking || Crying || Virginity (taken) || First Orgasm
Smut under the cut ( ˘ ³˘)♥
You could have sworn your breath was steaming in front of you against the cold winter air within the Abbey, despite the pull to walk away and hide in your quarters you pushed yourself to march forwards down echoing cobbled corridors. Vespers were to begin in 5 minutes, everyone would already be gathered in the chapel so there was no chance of being seen-
"And where might you be off to, Sister?" You tunnel vision was interrupted by the tall cloaked figure of Mother Superior O'Deorain rounding the corner. You near bumped into her before stepping away and bowing your head to hide your flushed cheeks. "I- Nowhere mother." "I certainly hope not, for you should be on your way to the chapel and you're running in quite wrong direction for that."
Caught
"Now I advise you tell the truth before I have to write another report regarding your lateness and general absence from prayer rec-" Your heart sank at the idea of another formal disciplinary, any more and you'd be send away from the Abbey. "Please don't! They'll- Please don't write to the Priest again Mother, I beg of you-" "Beg not my child, speak the truth and all will be forgotten" Her expressed remained as it always did, reserved and unintelligible. You sighed in resignation, rolling the soft cotton of your veil between your fingers.
"I was on my way to confessional, Mother." You couldn't possibly tell her any more.
"And could this confession not wait until after your nightly Vespers?"
You shook your head. Glancing up past the floor you felt your lips loosen. Guilt plagued your mind and heart and fear of god made you tremble. "I must get this off my chest or I fear it will drag me through the floor, Mother. There's a horrible feeling in my heart, and-" Before you could weep any further a slender finger was pressed to your pouting lips. Before you could protest she had wrapped her arm around your shoulder, a firm grip leading you down the hallway...towards confessional.
She opened the door for you, the dark shadowed box seemed to suck you in. As you perched onto the wooden bench you felt tears begin to well in your eyes again- this couldn't be happening. You couldn't confess to her, no matter how badly the sickness in your heart was begging you to do. She lit and passed you a small candle, intended to show God's presence at the scene. You didn't want him here. Not right now. you were so enveloped in your thoughts you hadn't noticed her shut you in and take her own pew, just the other side of the divider. Her sharp features only barely made out by the residue of your own candle light. You had never been so privileged to sit so close to the Mother Superior, let alone gaze at her features. Her strong brow was furrowed and you noted her eyes closed lightly in prayer. "We may begin whenever you are ready, Sister" You sat in silence for another minute, in deep contemplation. You had only been part of the Abbey for four months now- the lifestyle suited you well; a rigid schedule, lack of worldly possessions and no pressure to conform to the whims of men, other than God. You slowly drew a cross over your chest with your shaking hand.
"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me Mother, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession."
"And how have you sinned?" Her voice was quiet and calm.
Your whole body burnt under your Habit, sweat forming on your brow and saliva gathering into your mouth. "I- I have been.I-" You took a deep breath. "I have been experiencing thoughts- and... and feelings that I am unfamiliar with. And they are against the will of god." It was a lie that you were unfamiliar. Ever since secluding yourself with the women of the Abbey you'd felt nothing but these 'feelings'. Especially for Mother O'Deorain. Even before taking your vow's you'd felt the pull to dedicate yourself to a life with women- and now you'd had all you ever wished for you couldn't help but feel like you were not serving God. Even now, with her leading voice so close you felt your stomach turn with undeniable lust.
"These feeling, sweet one. Tell me about them. How they manifest in your body." Your breath caught in your throat as the air shifted.
"It feels like fire. Hot fire burning in my chest and- and." You trailed off, unable to finish.
"You feel it in your heart, in your stomach and in your loins." Her tone was firm, as if she was so sure of herself, like she had felt this feeling before. You hesitated. "I didn't think you would understand." You felt her shift in her compartment. And suddenly the door to your cubicle was open, exposing you flushed, teary and vulnerable. Her looming figure blocked all light save from the weakening candle, and as she bowed her head through the low doorway the gust of chilling air that followed blew the flame out entirely, plunging you into darkness. Your heart almost leapt out of your chest. Would she help relieve you of these feelings weighing you down? Your mind raced with questions- lust was between a man and a woman, what could she possibly do to you?
Her eyes were shadowed as she gazed down her nose at your trembling body, hunched and hiding within itself. She beckoned with two fingers for you to rise, and you did so silently. She then took a slender figure and feathered your face with it, wiping the salty residue of your tears across your cheek; her thumb tilted your chin upwards before probing around your slightly swollen lips. You felt under scrutiny, like she was making a blueprint of your face in her mind. She slid her finger into your mouth, warm and welcoming for her. All for a sudden the feelings you had been harboring for months were spilling out of you in all ways; gathering sweat, welling tears and slick gathering in your undergarments. As you went to speak her thumb pinned down your tongue, proper enunciation becoming impossible. "M-Mother I-" "Moira." You were taken aback by the proposal, nobody every referred to Mother Superior by her first name. You shook your head in protest- you couldn't disrespect her like that, never mind when she was being so kind as to help you with such little judgement. "You will call me by my name or I shan't continue, and you can fester in your sin until some other kind soul takes care of you." Her sudden harshness shot you in the heart, you were used to warmth and leadership from all your surroundings- to be met with a cold and demanding tone wasn't pleasant at all so you felt it best to oblige. Not to mention the desire in your chest was overwhelming as you felt your unmentionables throbbing painfully. "Moira-" She released your jaw, allowing you to speak. "Forgive me for my ignorance... but how could you possibly help me?"
It was then that Moira realized what exactly you were. Young, naive and virgin. She could convince you of anything- make you do anything. She gazed with perverted curiosity into your wide unknowing eyes. She knew of your attraction to her because she could feel the heat radiating from your body right now and she always note the audible nervousness whenever the two of you bumped into each other. She had you, very literally, in the palm of her hand. Moira wiped her now wet thumb across your lips, closing the space between you.
Slipping past you she sat on the bench, patting her knee. "Sit with me, I have much to teach you." You swallowed, discreetly. Was this truly orthodox? Was this going to help? You could only feel the desire between your legs growing with each passing minute. Moira looked at you darkly, "I will not have my generosity taken advantage of, Sister. might I remind you of the consequences of not correcting your behavior?" She was right- you had to do this, life without your Sisters was to be unbearable; so you must do as she says. As you lowered yourself on to her lap, with her thigh between yours the subtle relief was delicious, you felt the urge to rock back and fourth but resisted- instead grounding your hands into your lap. Moira's arms came around you, guiding you to lean back into her. "Have you every touched yourself, my lamb?" You squeaked in surprise at the probing question, unsure what the correct answer was. "Right... here?" Her hand moved to hike up your long skirt and cup your pussy, pressing her thumb oh so gently against your clothed clit. You shut your eyes tight as unexplored pleasure shot through your body. Moira tutted and cooed, "Ohh I don't think you have now, have you?" you shook your head defiantly ,"I- I did. Once. It's what I came to confess today." She feigned a gasp and asked, "And what did you do? That was so ungodly you felt such urgency to confess?" You shook your head again, too embarrassed and ashamed to answer. You felt her begin to rub gentle circles over your parts- places you didn't even know the name of, that you'd never been allowed to look at- until now. The onslaught of pleasure and new feelings overwhelmed you and you gripped her wrist to pull her hand away. "P-please. I cant- we cant." With unprecedented strength she removed your hand form her wrist, pinning your arms behind you and rendering you helpless to her advances- but her tone was heavy with lust and you felt compelled to submit as your mind clouded with how good she was making you feel- better than you'd ever made yourself feel. "I-It was after Vespers a night ago. I- went to bed and skipped my nightly prayer." Moira occupied her free hand with your lips again, running her thumb over them and wondering to herself if you'd ever allow her to kiss you. "And then what happened, sweet thing, what did you do? Did you pleasure yourself?"
You thought back to that evening, how desperate you were for respite from the dull tedious throb of your loins. You recalled pressing the heel of your own shoe into your parts during Vespers as you knelt at Moira's feet while she prayed over you and your fellow sisters. You then thought about what you did in your bedroom after the fact. "I took my pillow and- I- I rolled it up and I...I put it where it hurt..." Moira chuckled lowly, "And where does it hurt, lamb?" She hooked her other leg between your thighs using them as leverage to keep yours spread open. She nimbly slid her hand under the waistband of your modest panties, now soaked with slick. "Maybe... here?" She cruelly flicked your swollen bud and you cried out, feeling more than just pain; still, as you arched your body away from her she held you down. "Remember that this is what you wanted, you practically pleaded for my help and it's my duty to guide you through sin." Her words echoed around your empty head, you wanted this- you wanted this? You couldn't remember anymore.
You felt her fingers move beyond your clit and further down and your eyes grew wide with fear. She felt your change and hushed you, her left arm wrapping around your whole torso to keep you still. "Now now hold still, do not make this harder than it has to be. Trust in Mother like you always have and it will all be alright." You begin to gentle weep as two of her slender fingers dipped into your slit. "Please Mother no- please! I am saving myself, I'm a virgin- Please!" Your writhing and babbles fell on deaf ears. "Saving yourself for who Sister? No man, not even God can fill the chasm in your soul after accepting that the touch of a woman is all that you desire- ask me how I know." The sudden feeling of fullness cut your thinking short and made your breath halt as she slipped her fingers inside of your lubed pussy. Your mouth fell open into a moan as she begun pumping her fingers in and out of you, setting a slow but steady pace. "See, now that wasn't so bad was it?" You continued to weep and moan, pushing feebly against her in a weak attempt to stop her. "P-please M-Moira- I can't, I've never-" "Oh but you can my lamb, and you are.." You didn't know what you needed anymore- you desired her, you had needed relief for so long and she felt so good- like she knew every crevice of your body better than you ever could. Still somehow the feeling was so overstimulating and unheard of you couldn't help but fight back. Especially when the feeling of her restraining you, her arm pressed so tightly around you- the knowledge that you couldn't stop her, even if you really wanted to. It was excitement you had never felt before. It brought a morbid sort of comfort, not having to think or act for yourself.
You allowed yourself the freedom to whine and press back into her, breathing in and immersing yourself in her scent. She had always carried the aroma of the library with her, wonderfully aged books and blotting ink- as well as the rich fruity notes of red wine used for daily communion. "Awhh, where did all that fight go, hm? I thought you were saving your innocence? Or does it feel too good to stop now?" You felt her smile devilishly into the back of your head as she chuckled lowly. "I suppose a sweet, scared thing like you wouldn't have dared to believe a sin could feel so wonderful." While she pumped in and out- you couldn't help but notice an odd feeling in your stomach, a feeling that you didn't know if you liked. You felt it throb and twist like a coil begin wound and wound- prepping to snap. The pressure was almost anxiety inducing, what was happening to you ? "Can you feel it? The tightness building in your abdomen?" You gave a curt nod. "I- What's going to happen? It- It feels strange" She continued to fuck you slowly and rhythmically, and her thumb raised up again to press your clit gently. "Just relax and allow it to happen, you have nothing to fear in my arms- I would never do anything that would hurt you." You felt the feeling rise exponentially. "N-No I- It's too much Moira I can't-" You felt your breath hitch as the feeling overwhelmed you, you pushed and fought against her but there was no escape from her touch, heat or smell. When your stifled moans turned to wails of uncertain pleasure her hand came to close around your mouth. You huffed and puffed against her palm to no avail. "You can and you will. And you will never be the same- you will be enlightened, just wait!" She increased her pace to one too brutal and too fast, her knuckles were sure to bruise your sensitive skin; you clenched around her hard as you felt the feeling reach a peak, an end. You shut your eyes tight and cried out into her hand, arching your back into her fingers as she rolled your clit under her experienced thumb to take you through your first orgasm. You gripped, white knuckled, onto her thighs beneath you as your legs shook uncontrollably over hers. The pleasure was blinding, searing and overwhelming, weak tears began to flow again as you came crashing from your high. She made no complaints when your body shook and curled against her own, heaving deeply once she'd removed her hand from your face. "Shh Now breath and tell me you don't feel better, hm?" You took gasping breaths, focusing on how her hands provided a grounding grip on your shoulders, relaxing your limbs after being tense and curled like a withering spider. "I- I feel tired. I feel..." You shuffled to the side to face her better, getting a good look at her face now that your eyes had adjusted to the dark. You could see she was lightly flushed, her hair and collar tousled from where you'd fought against her. You noticed that aside from a light throb, the fire that had been burning in your chest for days has calmed significantly. "I feel...better- not so..." "Needy? Desperate?" You laughed faintly, "I Suppose...But- What happens now?"
Before answering she removed her fingers from your undergarments and placed them in her mouth. You noted how her tongue lapped up your residue and bookmarked the scene for later. Moira helped you rise to your feet and smoothed out your Habit, so there was no evidence of what had happened (aside from your very red face and shaky legs). "What happens now, is I want you to go to your chambers and think, not pray. I want you to ask yourself, if what you felt was a sin- if what happened between us wasn't right...then why would it have felt so good?" You pondered her point for a second before realizing that the shameful burn had also released you. Perhaps she was right.
"Now if these... feelings... should ever arise again, I want you to seek my company before it begins to impact your daily duties. Is that understood, Sister?" Again, you thought? These feelings could come back? Your heart sparked at the idea of another encounter such as this- perhaps elsewhere; in her quarters...in the garden...on the altar.
And with that, the two of you left to part ways- Vespers would be long over by now and it was time for a well-earned rest. Hopefully, you thought, filled with dreams of Moira.
wow that was really long thank you for making it all the way here. if you did. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
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