warnings : slight noncon, unhealthy obsessions, reader is unstable and fucked up ig, slight religious guilt, r has a d/strap, dacryphilia
prayers. scriptures. therapy. reconnecting with nature. or even looking at other women.
nothing never really got rid of your long-lasting, sick, twisted love for lauma.
the moonchanter was everything you weren't ; holy, pristine, precious, devoted, and pure.
while you? just a regular wanderer who wielded the element of pyro, casually stalking the deer hybrid from far away. though your fire was meant to burn monsters, your desire for her burned brightly.
you never really cared if you'd been viewed as weird, considered an outcast, hell even be called names, because in the end all those voices never mattered.
because they never belonged to lauma.
in the end, lauma's view and opinion of you was way more important, and you never as well cared if she labelled your relationship as friendship, or even strangers, but one thing is certain.
you would have her, and make her need you as long as you're still breathing.
so perhaps it was that fucked up kind of luck that decided to give you a chance, but lauma had latched onto you, seeking your "friendly" help. she'd gone into heat a few days prior, and got her to admit that right after you called out her peculiar behaviour at the altar. from her horns being much bigger than usual, prayer sessions being shorter, and how little time she decided to spend at the altar despite her fear of negligence for worship. she'd called it "the moon god's blessing of giving her time to reflect". however, you'd let her do more than reflect, not when she's allowing you access to her body.
back to present, you now face her, your hand against her warm cheek. lauma returns the gesture by placing her hand above that same hand on her cheek, allowing her to nuzzle closer into your touch. your hand trembles from excitement, heart beating way too fast for your own liking. under the moonlight, she basks in your presence and affection, loosening up to you.
and you can't help but mumble,
"would you like to ask your god to bless us on this eventful night, moonchanter?"
the next few moments had all been a blur, eyes hazy and clouded with lust to even concentrate on past events.
not when lauma was half naked in front of you, robes hiked up and wrapped around her waist, both your visions set on the stone altar, cum splattered on the cement of the holy grounds, and worst of all, you have her praying for you to stop with the relentless thrusting.
licking your lips, a hand on her hip moves up all the way to her hair, gripping at one of her horns, which seemed much bigger than ever. you lean down, cooing and grunting against her ear.
"can you feel me, lauma?"
it was more than fucked up for you to even ask, considering she can't form proper sentences, and the way the noises of her cunt taking all of your length was more overbearing to hear. so far, you were more than enjoying this, so hooked on the feeling of her walls clamping down on your length, how her pussy never wanted to let you go, so desperate for attention and release.
the grip on her horn tightened, and the moonchanter can only let out the most gut-wrenching cries of pleasure and struggle, the pressure on one of her most sensitive places really seeming to drive her crazy.
"n-no, not the horns, anything but that-"
you nibbled at the pointy tip of her ear, trying to silence her words by bombarding her body with pleasure, and the way you skillfully found all her weak points has her going weak in the knees. at some point, the pleasure had bordered pain, and it hurt so bad she may have needed you to stop for at least a minute.
"moon above, p-please, mercy-! just stop for a m-minute-!"
lauma's eyes rolled to the back of her head, and just for a moment, she saw the full moon's image, tears prickling in her eyes from the slight feeling of humiliation and embarrassment.
her reactions were to die for, if anything, you didn't listen to her pleas, only proceeding to drive yourself deeper into her.
"fuck... my beautiful, pure moonchanter... praying to your god now? i'm quite offended you're thinking about that when i'm here blessing you with relief..."
chuckling at her whines of desperation, you found it ironic how she pleaded for you to stop, when her body just seemed to accept you the more you forced yourself in. you let go of her horn, hand sliding down tantalizingly to her hips. now holding her possessively, you gripped at her skin, hard enough to leave marks, worsening her feared pleas.
"you entrusted yourself to me, not your god. so even if i'm taking you on this altar, don't start praying. your god won't listen this time."
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