a/n: ethel cain x sunday yes please!!! I had a vision i hope yoou see it
Tw: religous themes
-- now playing: Sun Bleached Flies - ethel cain
Sunday sat in the church pews, it was empty, decrepit, hollow, and smelled of mildew. The smell was the same but the feeling was different, his father wasn't there to lecture them on salvation. His mother wasn't flirting with the pastors beneath his father, most importantly- you weren't there.
You two were nothing and everything to each other.
Your family went every Sunday in their best clothes, and ready to share the word of god along with a few bites of breakfast. You sat in the pew behind him, often tapping his shoulder and whispering to each other; or even passing notes on where to meet after.
Your family and his grew close, visiting each other for dinner and holidays.
Where scandalous hand holding beneath the table, kissing him on the cheek when the door was open, sitting alone together. Things they felt sinful to do, all his life Sunday was taught to do everything in his power to avoid temptation. And he was good until you joined, that's when he knew what real temptation was.
The temptation to hold your hand, and be with you forever. Help you with your journey to him and not god, help you stray from the sheltered live you lived (like he was any better). He flushed with any touch or words from you, he wasn't used to any romantic anything outside of the books he buried himself in. Or the occasional hallmark movie his mother watched.
You and him often escaped to an abandoned house in the outskirts of town, talking and dreaming of a life that couldn't be.
You two dreamed of a life together, until you disappeared. No letter, no goodbye, no traces left in your former home. Just gone, when you left he realized he believed in nothing. If god was truly real, why would he take the one thing keeping him in that church.
Life wasn't the same when you left, he left the church once eventually gaining the courage to leave the town. Where Sunday was gone for decades, until he heard his back water town. Was now a ghost town, everything left to rot- returning to nature.
Which is where he sat often times, thinking of everything that happened in that lifetime. All of the scandals that followed his family, and his first love.
--
Hsr masterlist!
was gonna read my old hsr work to refernce back but i cant even open that post omg 😭😭😭 also v short bc i dont have the attention span to make it longer and i ran out of ideas😂😂😂
(i switched music platforms again so im using tidal wave!!! no more song links sorey T^T)
phainon who is always on edge with intrusive memories when you guys are out, either a date or just going around. he can’t help but think he’s ruining dates when you ask if he’s okay. he doesn’t want you to worry.
phainon who suddenly isolates himself from everyone, including you. phainon memories is a constant reminder of despair to him so it isn’t uncommon for him to stay away from places that reminds him of what happened.
phainon who wakes up in the middle of the night in a panic and starts hyperventilating. this isn’t something new but you always wake up immediately to comfort him back to bed.
phainon who tightly grips on you while giving affection or anything. he had a nightmare? he’s holding onto you to make sure you don’t leave him. you give him a hug? he wraps his arms around you and leans his bodyweight to you so you have to hold onto him back.
phainon who hates to see you go places. it can be for school, work, friend hangouts, literally anything! usually he’ll try to beg you to stay or let him come with you. his intrusive thoughts always cause this to happen, ultimately making him go into a spiral if he’s not there to protect you.
phainon who loves when you kiss him during times like these. he likes it for one reason. you coming back to him and staying by his side. anyone could call him selfish for not wanting you to do anything but stay with him. at the end of the day, he just wants to keep to safe!
all made by me - do not feed my work into ai
m.list
i wrote phainon’s name so much it looks weird to me lol
Hellooo, I was wondering if you could make some March (or evernight, or both) x Astral Express reader hcs,,, I'm yearning *hard* for nsfw march content, I only find fluff 😞
march x astral express member!fem!reader hc
an ; ofccc dear!! i’ll do a tame march for this one but lmk if u want more! hope you like it!
tags; smut, nsfw, eater, fingering, 69, praise kink, cuddles after sex, SUPER good aftercare, bath sex,
march who loves foreplay.. like really loves foreplay. before anything starts her hands are immediately under your pants and rubbing your soft bud.
march who has a really big ego and acts all dom but in reality she’s a sucker for you and allows you to control what you want her to do.
march who fingers you soooo divine, she’ll get messy to! if you keep giving her praises she’ll actually go insane. she makes you sooo drippy and good in a second.
march whose favorite position is 69, she loves it because both of you guys can get pleasure from it. if shes a messy fingerer shes a messy eater for sure!
march who can cum or squirt in your mouth if you praise her for her work of love!
march who nips your clit after you cum in her mouth.. yes she slurps it allll up!
march who gets you cleaned up after sex with a warm bath and roses in it.
march who makes you two share the bath and she slowly creeps to finger you in the bath..
march who makes you all whiney and whimpery after you cumming again but gives you sooo much neck kisses afterwards!
march who just loves giving you amazing aftercare of love and cuddles <3
all made by angelickitties - dont put my work into ai - characters not mine
. . . the sun sets another day, but your love prevails through the night.
WARNINGS ── fem!reader 、established relationship 、(it’s their wedding night) 、phainon whimpers & whines 、literally nothing else i wrote this off vibes 、MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
SUPERNOTE ── finals are taking me out and i just. Phainon i wish u were real to fuck my brains out. i’m so tired of thinking. (nonsense drabble just to feed the dash - might delete/private later)
WORD COUNT ── 948
BACK ARCHED INTO THE curve of a sinking sun, limbs taut like soaring stars, mouth hooting a broken chorus of pleased oh’s: the fruits of a steep, uphill battle laboring sweetly around your peak, promising the kiss of release so divinely, you weep beneath its embrace. At the behest of a scarred challenger, your pleasure is pieced like a puzzle, with analytical precision pushing you to the sweet, sunny peak — he’s been climbing, and climbing, and climbing, his hands now finally finding purchase on pebbled bosoms, exalting him to his divine right at the summit of chronicled games.
And it is he, only he, who can enjoy those fruits to their fullest potential. Pulling the skin from the flesh with a guttural groan, head sinking back on his shoulders, eyes rolling shakily. The taste of Heaven lingers over his tongue as he spits it unto you: tangy with sweat, sweet with ardor, heavy with passion. A mix of flavors only Phainon, the master climber, can achieve.
The moon pulls to cast over you, a lunar chill running over you in place of his solar warmth. Your bed, carved in pure, Kremnoan gold, roped in tendrils of leafy vines, creaks and rocks under you. Its squeals mirror yours, fleeting yet persistent, music to wake the night.
Phainon, the divine ruler of the heavens and hells, and all the mountains in between, trembles above you. He needs not say a word to tell you the truth, that crystalline glare has the words written in it. You push at the back of his neck, urging him closer, just to hug him, to feel the quakes in his muscles and the beat of his heart. Feeling it just to know that it’s because of you, and giving him the confirmation that it’s settled deep within you, too.
Those knitted brows and agape mouth are the only things you can make out through teary, starry eyes. It tells you why he’s stopped thrusting and just grinds on top of you, rutting deeply, roughly against you. Why it feels like your stomach is full of fireworks and their fuses are slowly kindling, and the smoke is slowly snuffing out your breath. You can't breathe, only gasp, clutching so tightly that your nails are rehoming in his shoulders.
You're speechless. Your eyes are blank; you can only see on the blacks of your heavy eyes. Fleeting glimpses of your day, of the last few years of your life, of what waits to come flicker in your head. You're grinning, so sickly and sloppily. There's nowhere else you'd rather be.
The two of you hold each other so closely, so tightly. There must be bits of your skin that are fusing by your sweat. Everything sticky, warm, wet, like a rebirth clogging your lungs and slithering through and out of you. You press your foreheads together, exhale and inhale each other so close.
Phainon’s voice cracks the second he tries to speak. “I'm so in love with you—” he squeaks, “I want to love you forever..”
You hold him tighter. Your legs are jelly around his waist but they keep him flush to you. Friction rubs at your clit, just the slightest tingling that births lightning bolts under your skin.
Your throat is so dry and tight but you huff anyway, “Don’t stop, Phai,” all groggily and hoarse.
He holds you down as his hips just grind against you. The movements are stuttery and slow, in tandem with the long drawn groan that surfs out. It decrescendoes into a feeble whine, and he buries his head into the crook of your neck, murmuring and whimpering against your damp skin. His messy head of hair rubs against your chin, like a dog nuzzling into you.
His sounds dance around in your stomach; your walls contract to the beat. “Oh, fuck,” he whines, muffled, “I'm gonna cum—my love, fuck—”
He seizes in your arms, his cock twitching inside of you. He breathes so gruffly and heavily against you as his arms jelly and he just lies on top of you, sandwiching you between him and the mattress. He's so heavy—you can feel the air pressing out of you.
Your eyes roll and your mouth hangs open. Your hips jump and your limbs vibrate. It feels like death is taking you; this must be Heaven.
You orgasm seconds after Phainon, a wisp of bated breath separating you. He hisses and winces and whimpers all at once, all directly to your core, all a show of vulnerability and transparency. A man so precious—sculpted like a god yet pliable like putty—is all yours, until death do you part, and then some.
Even as your brains slither out of your head and you're too far on cloud nine to think, he whispers to you. The vows you heard only a few hours ago; the promises to split the sky and pull the stars down for you, to carry your troubles for you and shoulder the weight of the world, just to keep you smiling forever. And if there ever came a time where you couldn't stand him, he'd do what he must, because your pain hurts him more than your absence.
How lucky he is to have a wife, who only looks better and better as the seconds pass, who cares for him at his rawest. You died and came back to life in your pleasure; he would kill and resurrect you again and again if you kept looking at him like that.
If he could be the center of your universe, and you his, you’d birth a new world together, where love is the only language spoken. He's fluent in you.
