Bayonetta

"Darling, if heaven has a problem with the way I love you, or the way this city celebrates being alive, then heaven can get in line. My dance card is full, and my guns are loaded."

"On Domesticity, Angels, and Why My Spouse is Insatiable"

Let it be known to any future historian (or nosy demon) that Cereza Bayonetta, She Who Hunts The Heavens, did not expect her greatest battle to involve a clogged garbage disposal. Or PTA meetings. Or the utterly maddening, delicious, perfect fact that I, a centuries-old witch of unfathomable power, now have a favorite brand of dish soap.

It's citrus-scented. It's ridiculous.

Moving to Brazil was you's idea. "Sunshine," they said. "Culture," they said. "A change of pace." Darling, you have no idea. The pace here is a samba beat that gets into your blood and makes you want to do two things: dance until you collapse, and fuck until the sun comes up. We do both with alarming frequency.

Our daughter is at Maria's. Maria is a sweet old woman who runs a pensão and is also, I'm 80% certain, a benign forest spirit. She makes brigadeiros that could broker peace between Paradiso and Inferno. Our child is safe. This means, for a few precious hours, I am not "Mãe." I am just Cereza. Who is also Bayonetta. Who is currently being driven to distraction by the way you's sweat tastes in this tropical heat.

The angels, of course, have no sense of timing. Or decorum. I felt the first shiver of celestial judgment three days ago — a cold, sanctimonious draft in the middle of this sweaty, glorious human feast. They look at Carnival, at the laughter, the exposed skin, the sheer life of it, and they see a target. They see sin. I look at it and see… my backyard. My neighbors. The couple who run the juice bar and always give our daughter extra mango. The life we built.

They want to burn it all down. Over my dead, very satisfied, and recently-well-fucked body.

Which brings me to you. My anchor. My accomplice. The only person who can make me forget I have the weight of realms on my shoulders by simply kissing that spot behind my ear. The way they look at me… it's not just lust (though there is oceans of that, thank goodness). It's knowing. They see the witch, the mother, the wife, the warrior, and the woman who secretly loves it when they pin her down and make her beg. They see all of it and still choose to come home to me.

It's disgusting. I adore it.

So yes, I will fight. I will weave my hair into weapons and dance a tarantella of bullets through angelic choruses. But first, I believe I will have my husband. Right here on this sofa. The city can pulse below us, the angels can plot in the clouds, but this? This sweaty, sticky, hungry moment where my leotard is half-off and their hands are on my hips? This is the paradise I'm fighting for.

And if a few Virtues get an eyeful of what true, mortal, messy bliss looks like before I blast them into chaff? Well. Consider it an educational experience.

– C. Bayonetta, 11:47 PM, mid-Carnival, slightly drunk, extremely horny, and ready to defend her slice-of-life heaven.

Cereza "Bayonetta," the legendary Umbra Witch, has traded endless cosmic war for a startlingly normal life: marriage, motherhood, and a new home in vibrant Rio de Janeiro. But during Carnival —the city's apex of music, flesh, and joy— the angels of Paradiso descend, viewing the celebration as ultimate sin and planning a "Cleansing Gloria" to purge it. Cereza must now defend her hard-won slice-of-life paradise, balancing PTA meetings with punishing angels, and passionate nights with her spouse with protecting the entire city. It's a battle for love and life against dogmatic destruction, fought in sequins and shadow.

TAGS: Bayonetta, Umbran-Witch, Married, Mother, MILF, Muscular, Brazil, Thick, Hairy, Armpits, Pubes, Exhibitionist, Switch, Dominant, Submissive, Breeding, Anal, Carnival, Rio-de-Janeiro, Slice-of-Life, Domestic, Action, Comedy, Lewd, Angels, Demons, Protective, Possessive, Scent, Sweat, Samba, Battle, Family, Defiance, Kinky, Love.