#it was always either violent or everyone was having sex with each other

[mars-ipan]

i do miss being a little kid and creating the most vividly fucked up stories with my toys that i could

[mv1simp]

Slow Down♥️

Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader (SocialMedia!AU)

I’m so down if you’re ready, I’ll show you if you let me, girl (she said fuck me like I’m famous, I said okay)

You and Max Verstappen are very well known in the media, for having one of the most volatile rivalries in the sporting world. But Ferrari’s Princess and Redbull’s Mad Max send shockwaves through the paddock when your PR teams confirm you’re officially dating. The public have a hard time believing it…until your sex tape gets leaked on Twitter a month later. Social Media!AU

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, trying my hand at a SM! AU for the first time!!, dom! Max and switch! Reader, size kink, sexism, max being a feminist king

Everyone always said there was a thin line between love and hate. Frankly, you find it to be sexist bullshit, rolling your eyes everytime some interviewer or your friends or trainer would make some sly comment about so what’s going on between you and Max, with a suggestive wiggle of their eyebrows. Nothing, just him trying to run me off the track repeatedly and giving me 4 bruised ribs in Singapore when he clipped me illegally, you say with an annoyed tone. You know that if you were a man, and not the first female driver in decades in F1, you wouldn’t be getting randomly shippedwith all the drivers. And for gods sake, Verstappen off all people was the most laughable idea. The man was either being a violent menace on the track or an immature twelve year old off it, you think vehemently. You two had stayed well out of each others way in your Haas seat last year, with you leading the mid pack in the suboptimal car but Max remaining well out of reach at the front of the pack. But this year, you’d earned yourself a Ferrari seat and were ecstatic to finally be able to compete for a WDC.

That was, until you and Max Verstappen suddenly started to keep getting caught in each others crosshairs. What started as polite indifference between two coworkers blew up into a PR frenzy, with you and Max completing for the top step in the podium every race weekend. He thought you a reckless driver, getting lucky in a rocket ship this year and trying to sink her claws into something she can’t handle. You thought him over arrogant, a man who couldn’t handle losing to a girl, his fragile ego unable to handle losing a 4th WDC to a Ferrari driver who was only in her second F1 season.

And then, two months out from the end of the season, everything changed between you and Max. On a night out in Monaco with your friends, celebrating being home from triple headers, you’d had the unfortunate experience of being cornered by some drunk, sexist creep who thought he was entitled to touch you. He’d been stronger than you expected, pinning you in a dark alleyway and you just when you starting to freak out, Max of all people practically threw the guy off you. He’d angrily spat at the drunk to pick on someone his own size or he’d break his jaw next time, before leading you to his car with a gentle hand. Normally, you found Max’s far larger frame to be annoying, another way for him to intimidate you when he glared downwards. But that night you couldn’t help but be grateful for the muscular, tall man and his attentive blue eyes as you willingly follow him with wide, doe eyes.

The ride home had been silent, you nervously clutching the large sleeves of the hoodie Max had given you from his backseat. And when you’d thanked him for his help, saying you appreciate him looking out for you even though he hated you, he looked at you with genuine surprise. I don’t hate you, he’d said. Well, I suppose we have had our differences on the track. You snickered at this, muttering that’s one way of putting it. Max chuckled, making you peer at him curiously as you’d never heard him do that in your presence. He was actually very handsome, you noted, without an angry scowl on his face or that Redbull helmet covering him. Then you tell your tipsy brain to shut up because where the hell had that thought suddenly come from?!

But really, I think you’re a pretty amazing girl off the track, Max continued. It must be hard being the only female driver, but you always have something good to say to the dumb interview questions you get. And I’m not going to stand by and let any woman be felt up by some creep. Even if it’s the Princess of Ferrari, he adds with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at this, stepping out of his car as you reach your apartment. And when you offer him his hoodie back, he tells you to keep it. You can use it to stay warm at the next race - it’s Brazil, very rainy. Did I mention I’m called the rainmaster, incidentally? You burst out laughing at his lack of subtlety, and he smiles at having distracted you, making the scared look in your pretty doe eyes from earlier disappear. Fuck off, Verstappen, you giggle, and for once your words have no real bite.

By the time your second F1 season is over, and you’re receiving your trophy for the world championship at the Prizegiving Gala, the first female to do so, you and Max Verstappen have became good friends. Maybe something more, from all the time you’ve started spending together off the track gaming, playing padel, and going out drinking. You were far too afraid to ever say something to him, knowing the media response to the first female driver dating a fellow driver would be absolutely brutal. Besides, you had no idea if Max remotely felt the same way about you - his type seemed to be pretty models, not aggressive drivers who spent half her time plotting his downfall.

You’re surprised when he finds you at the after party, late into the night, where everyone is too plastered to note that the fallen Redbull champion is taking the winning Ferrari Princess to a private level on the yacht. If you think I’m going to apologise for breaking your winning streak, you can try again, you announce dramatically as you grin at him, 5 drinks in and pink lips loosened, letting him know you were jesting. Wouldn’t have it any other way, Princess, Max hums, coming to stand so close to you that your heart rate quickens when you feel warmth radiating from the taller, muscular driver. Besides, I’ll be taking the cup next year, anyways. Enjoy the high while you can, he says in his Dutch accent, all cocky.

You let out an outraged gasp at this, forgetting how close you two already are as you step towards him, accusing hand pressed against his firm chest. But before you can say anything, Max’s gorgeous blue eyes drop down to where your manicured nails are touching his pecs. And then he looks down further, to where your plush tits have pressed up against his abs, your cute red corset minidress pushing your cleavage up temptingly. There’s no mistaking the dark desire that swirls in his intense gaze as he looks back into your wide doe eyes. And then he’s leaning in, finally, you think, and then your brain wakes up and you remember who’s in front of you. We can’t, Max, you say breathlessly, dazed by how attractive he looks when turned on. Why not, the Dutchman demands, cocky as usual. You don’t want this, Princess? His large hand brushed your jaw, tilting your face upwards when you try to look away. Your breath hitched from the contact, and you’re sure he can feel how fast your carotid pulse is beating. It’s-it’s not that I don’t want to, you say with a blush, making a pleased smirk appear on Max’s lips. But I’m the only female driver on the grid, the public would tear me apart if they found out I hooked up with another driver on the grid-

Fuck what anyone else thinks, Max says passionately, the familiar spark of defiance in his eyes. I know the fallout from something like this would be much harder for you as a woman than me, and I waited till after the championship fight finished. No one can contest you didn’t win the cup with your own sheer skill. But now that it’s finished, I can’t hold back anymore. Your jaw drops from Max’s heated confession, never having guessed the handsome blonde would reciprocate your buried romantic feelings. And I don’t mean some one night stand or summer fling, he continued boldly. I want to be your boyfriend, I want you all to myself properly.

You must have had too many G&Ts, you hear yourself say distantly, cause you’re not even a little bit cute and shy like you normally are off the track, Verstappen. He smiles gently, knowing you were using humour to deflect from the swirling emotions within you. Maybe, he murmurs, bending down to rest his forehead against yours. Or maybe you look so fucking gorgeous in this red dress I knew I couldn’t hide how I feel anymore. When he feels your hand graze his chest, pulling him just a bit closer, he knows what you want. Pressing the gentlest of kisses to your glosses lips, he pulls back to make sure you still wanted more.

But he didn’t need to have any doubts, because you’re staring up at him sultrily, desire having darkened your own wide, doe eyes. This time you’re pulling him back onto your lips, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders so that there’s not even a millimetre of space between you too. He groans into your mouth as the months of tension come to a head, the two of you languidly exploring each others mouth with tongues.

Even if you’d woken up the next morning regretting your decision, there was no way you could turn down Max’s offer of a relationship. Because even if you had still hated him, the sex that night on the yacht has been so incredibly mind blowing, by far the best orgasm you had ever experienced, that you knew you’d never meet anyone who could fuck you so perfectly again. So you hesitantly said yes, let’s try this for real, Max over a late hungover brunch the next morning. The rest had been history - the two of you had spent the last 7 months in a secret relationship, not wanting the chaos of the media to ruin your relationship before it could even start properly. Max has proven time and time again you’d made the right decision saying yes, being the perfect boyfriend, dedicated to all your needs and wants, spoiling you endlessly and making you laugh whenever you had a bad day.

Sometimes things were hard, of course. Like when you two had tensions during a race, your private relationship doing nothing to dampen the competitive spirit you both shared. But you’d both make up after, whether it be with a long debrief and strategy talk on how to avoid an incident next time - or your personal favourite, some angry make up sex. Like you’d suspected, Max was an absolute sex god and you two enjoyed a very healthy sex life, exploring each others kinky preferences. So when you’d have to be away from each other for long periods, busy with planning and meetings at your separate team bases, your boyfriend came up with a solution once the nudes and phone sex didn’t quite hit the same.

Filming yourselves during sex seemed like a certain recipe for disaster, given how famous the two of you are and the consequences of anything got leaked. But the temptation was too great as weeks drag on without the touch of your boyfriend - so you agreed, just this once, to try it out.

Well, that had certainly been the plan. But the video had been so so nice to watch again and again anytime your pussy ached for Max that you can’t resist making more. And then last month when your teams had finally given the okay for an official announcement on your relationship, and the media response had overall been surprisingly positive, you two get too comfortable and Max accidentally sent the video over DM to you, instead of the encrypted chat you normally use.

And that was when shit hit the fan.

No, Max, go away, I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to see anyone ever again! The blonde Dutchman sighs he leans his head against the closed bathroom door with a worried expression on his face. You’ve locked yourself in his Monaco penthouse’s bathroom for the past 4 hours, not coming out despite how much he’s pleaded. Please, schatje, he tries again. I know it’s bad, but we’ll get through it together. Twitter’s already banned any links of the video and both our PR teams are doing damage control and so many of the grid drivers and journalists were calling out the website that had leaked the tape. Please, I just want to see you, you can’t be locked in there forever and reading all the stuff online alone.

When you don’t reply, only sniffling through the door, he sighs again and slides down the door, making himself comfortable. A few minutes later he hears the door unlock and your red, crying face peeking through. Oh, schatje, he croons soothingly as you drop down into his arms and bury your face in his thick neck. He rubs soothing circles along your back as you sniffle that Everyone’s saying such horrible things, Maxie. How am I going to face going on the paddock ever again?

He reassures you firmly that you two would go hand in hand, united on the paddock with your heads held high, because you’ve done nothing wrong. He’d been doing the media game a lot longer than you and knew this scandal, like everything else, would get blown over with time. After your quiet sobs settle with his comforting words and tight hug, you pull back to look at him and apologise for shutting yourself away and not checking in on him. It’s your leaked tape too, you say anxiously. How are you feeling about it, baby?

He eases your concern again, telling you honestly that in the grand scheme of things, although it was a little mortifying he’s had worse in the media. Besides, it’s gonna be satisfying to crush whichever little fucker leaked the vid, he says vehemently. Any anyone who’s saying any bullshit sexist comments about you sleeping your way into F1 or anything is getting hit with a defamation lawsuit from legal, he declares, making your heart swell from his protectiveness. You still aren’t convinced, though. Are you sure, Max? I remember in that particular video, you can’t see much of my body but there’s definitely a lot of shots of your…

Dick? Your boyfriend finishes with a deadpan expression, That’s fine. Besides, I’ve nothing to be embarrassed about. You know the hashtag Verstappen’s third leg is trending on Twitter now? You giggle at his nonchalance, making Max smile at seeing you cheered up. You’ve finally having processed what happened enough to maybe see a bit of humour in it. True, I suppose it could have been worse, you muse. The Las Vegas video could have been the leaked one. Imagine how batshit the fans would have gotten if they saw the handcuffs were for you, not me. Max laughs genuinely, blue eyes looking fondly at your mischievous expression. The familiar Ferrari fire he adored was back in your own pretty doe eyes.

Or worse, the Barcelona one, you tease as you lead him to the kitchen to start making dinner. Scrolling through hundreds of posts and spiralling was calorie consuming work. I think Twitter would have shut down if they found out Max Verstappen likes being called daddy in the bedroom.

Your boyfriend’s face goes adorably pink as he stammers at your unexpected roast. Hey-hey now, schat, that was just one time okay? You’d just accidentally said it and it caught me off guard-

You grin playfully, giving him a kiss on the cheek because he looked too cute to resist. Sure, baby, so off guard you lasted 5 seconds after that. His face goes even pinker, reaching the tips of his ears now as he shyly looks away. For all his fierceness on the track, you loved how sweet the Dutch Lion was off it. Giggling, you put him out of his misery by handing him a knife and tell him to get to work chopping the tomatoes. You knew no matter what came your way, you would be fine with Max by your side.

—————————————————————————

A/N: okkk so what did u guys think at my first attempt at a social media AU ahaha. You know I love to yap I fear I included too many Twitter screenshots, I ALWAYS GET CARRIED AWAY. Anyway this was super fun pulled me right out of my writers block!!! Hope u enjoy xx

[gothgoblinbabe]

hiyaa <333 just wanted to drop a Logan request here.. (pref from the ver of the x-men, 2000?) because it's always like sunshine reader this and grumpy/mean logan that (i luv them btw) but what about cool!reader. what about the reader that can and will not put the cocky shit he is on his place but keep him there??? what about the reader that tames him down, the reader that casually grabs the back of his shirt to keep him from launching himself at Scott with a deadpan face, the one that lets him bite??? the one that will literally outmatch his agressive and violent energy????? the one that grabs his wrist when his claws go out and quirks an eyebrow at him like 'really?'???? like pls we do seriously need a bit of a level-head/intermediator!reader with Logan (can be smut if u feel like it?) 🙏🙇 fem if possible <33

IM KICKING MY FEET SO HARD RN OMG, I also love grumpy Logan x sunshine reader but being w someone that matches his energy? Oh my god, that’s my shit

NSFW/18+ // This isn’t like a full oneshot ig but if you do want that with plot and stuff lmk!)

- Within the first few months of meeting each other, everyone would definitely tease Logan (and you) about how you’re like the female version of him. You don’t put up with anyone’s shit, including his. He learned that the hard way, nearly being knocked on his ass when you yanked the back of his jacket to prevent him from ripping Scott to shreds because of some stupid comment. That wasn’t a one time occurrence, either. You were the only one bold enough to actually try to put him in his place when the claws came out, going as far as to use both hands to hold his wrist in place while you glared up at him.

“Chill the fuck out, would you?”

And the first time you had the balls to actually do that, everyone else stood back in mild fear, anticipating some kind of fight between the two of you. Instead, he rolled his eyes and retracted his claws. It was an unusual influence you had over him, something about you that made him feel hypnotized.

- He’ll never admit it to another soul, but he definitely likes that you’re dominant over him at times when you have to cool him down. Grabbing his arm, pushing him back - lightly tugging at his hair if you really couldn’t get his attention. He likes when you put him in his place, get a little rough with him or talk in an angry tone.

- And because I’m a sucker for friends to lovers, I think he’d be so head over heels for you because of that. He’d try his best to be stone faced when you were stern with him, but he’d be gnawing on his bottom lip to the point of drawing blood.

- Same thing with training: If you actually manage to wrestle him down to the mat, he knows he can push you off if he really wants to, but he never does - he gets way too engrossed in staring up at you while you straddle his lap and hold his arms down.

- Though Logan wasn’t always levelheaded, he could return the favor of holding you back when you got too aggressive, wrapping his arms around the middle of your waist and pulling you back - sometimes even having to lift you off the ground and sling you over his shoulder. Truthfully, he’d let you tear someone apart if it were up to him - the assholes usually deserve it - but he knew it would be frowned upon to not stop you.

- I think when you somehow do admit your feelings - maybe you get pissed when he puts himself in danger and just tell him you love him or he does the same when he starts to become a little too jealous of anyone else hanging around near you - he’d always have his hands on you in some way. Maybe the small of your back, your hands, your wrist - anything. And the jealousy thing? Oh, forget it, he won’t even let another guy stand too close to you. He’s not toxic (maybe if you wanted him to be🫣) but very protective, he’ll let another guy talk to you if he’s gotta but his hand is in your back pocket the entire time while he stares the dude down.

- Angry sex is a regular occurrence. Are you really mad at each other? Not even close, but it doesn’t take much more than a few choice words exchanged in the hall for Logan to be dragging you into the nearest room with a lock, holding you up against the wall and drilling into you till he has to hold a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. There were definitely a handful of times you’d almost been caught, trying to babble out an excuse about being busy to whoever was behind the door while your leg was hiked over Logan’s shoulder, messily eating you out with your skirt bunched up at your waist.

- Overall I think you’d make a good pair, keeping each other in balance when one of you gets a little feral (though, let’s be honest, it’s definitely usually you having to hold him back).

Like I said if you want more of that concept or like something w plot pls lmk!! Absolutely love the idea 🫶🏻

[satoruhour]

If you don’t mind (tho ofc you don’t have to write it if you don’t wish to), could we get a pt 2 of that priest geto fic? Where him and reader have been secretly fucking every damn where but especially in the church ever since that night, they both realise they have a thing for breeding kink so they don’t bother with protection either. Obv they have to hide what they’re doing and reader secretly gets away from her house at night to get dicked down frequently. and he knocks her up so they ultimately run away together ( or somewhere along those lines it’s totally up to you)

We missed you!! So good to have you back :D

DOMINE DIRIGE NOS !

wc: 7.8k (when will the horrors stop) / first part here ✶

warnings: DARK CONTENT, LORE, priest!geto, fem!reader, age gap (reader is in early 20s, geto in late 20s), christian references, religious themes used in inappropriate ways, questions of religion and life, brief mention of abortion, described scenes of f! and m! masturbation, face-sitting, fingering, clit stimulation, both f! and m! receiving oral, praise, mild degradation, sex in a religious place, semi-public sex (blowjob while geto is conducting mass oop), deep-throating, lots of unprotected p -> v sex, LOTS of creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, abandoning home, n*sfw under the cut

“father geto?” you curl deeper into geto’s back in the rectory, the uncomfortable mattress below you just reminding you of your upbringing in this suffocating town and the proximity of everyone. since that night, the two of you have been insatiable, using the House of the Lord for anything holy and instead are filled with violent moans and constant skin-slapping. even to you, the Church has started to look darker and darker, painted with the sin of Pandæmonium’s pillars, each time you enter it.

mass is all about locking eyes with the other, a game to see who falls first. sometimes you’d come in the shortest dress you can find, staring up at him from the second pew from under your eyelashes just like how you’d suck his cock. sometimes father geto would have his hair tied up, revealing his neck and jawline — the priest had not much to experiment with, but it took equal effect on you, anyway. clenched thighs, stuttered words, fluttering eyes.

father geto fortunately finds it easier to evade parishioners after doing his morning greetings to everyone; with another older priest who didn’t request the rectory, he could hide away to stroke at his cock all he wanted while the other took over the later masses. you, however, needed to reject the holy pastor ever so often to stop your mother from thinking vile of your absence.

it still was father geto, though, so whenever you mentioned his name after morning mass, she lit up like a switchboard, happily ushering you away to spend time because it was always encouraged to improve your faith.

— improving your faith in a non-existing god, perhaps.

“you don’t have to call me father when we’re alone, baby,” geto reassured, accommodating you when you turned around to meet him halfway.

“yeah?” you whisper, like someone could hear you. it was taboo, shameful even. the neighbourhood good girl with a deadbeat father coalescing with the newly transferred priest — it was the blasphemous, sent to be burnt at the pyre sort of sin. the rectory felt odd, your house felt odd; there was no place for people like the two of you, driven by lust and forbidden love and sin in the eyes of God, but what could people do when sin just felt so right?

you relish in the father’s gasp when you grind your butt against his crotch which are concealed behind his trousers, biting your lip with a smile when you catch his small grin at your mischief. you continue your ministrations, rolling your hips and bringing his hands to your chest. your clothing has become shorter and shorter ever since you convinced him of your little sin back in the confessional booth of skimpy tops and skirts. geto takes over, fingers slipping under your camisole to pull down your bra, fondling with your tits and playing with your nipples.

“sneaky little baby, hm?”

“s-suguru—” you whine, hips bucking and cunt already clenching. “need your cock, tongue, anything—”

“i’m getting there, doll, wait for me,” he pants, hurriedly unzipping his trousers. his erection is pulsing and throbbing by now, letting out a small sigh of relief when he finally pulls down his underwear, but you’re confused when you’re turned around and before you can reach to sit yourself on him—

“sit on my face first, darling,” he slyly smiles, beckoning you forward. here, father geto suguru looks anything like a pastor and if you close your eyes and listen, the repetitive tweets of the morning mass birds sound a little sweeter and the rushing water of the stream nearby remind you of a countryside house far away from your parents, your faith, your life. but forbidden has a time limit without the luxury of listening in, so you only settle for a pout when you hear the slick noises of him pumping his cock.

“you did say tongue,” he grins, “i don’t disobey scripture.”

“i’m not the Bible, suguru,” you jest with a small smile.

“you are scripture to me — anything you say and do, i’ll follow.”

and that’s the first time it’s truly cemented in you how much father geto was truly willing to throw away, but you hardly have any time to react before he easily settles one leg over and pulls you toward his mouth. it’s so violent, the way he loves you that there’s a small hmph that sounds from his throat when your sweet, wet pussy meets his mouth. after, it’s just endless groans as he laps at your clit while you fill the rectory with your sinful moans, grinding your hips into his mouth over and over while he just hums in agreement.

“that— that’s it, useme, useme—” it comes out slurred and slippery, just like your dripping cunt and his leaking cock, wet sounds that surround the both of you as geto’s tongue continue to assault your sensitive clit. he licks and sucks endlessly that you have no choice but to grab onto his hair for support and he does to same to both your thighs.

“father suguru—! hnfuck . .” you whimper out, looking down at him with hooded eyes while he meets you with the same intensity. below you are just streams and streams of your juices flooding his chin and hair; he just ever so lightly dips his tongue down to your needy cunt, plunging it in and your back arches involuntarily, “o-oh, god!”

geto laughs into your pussy, arm still clutching your thigh but the other goes back to his neglected dick, pumping it in time with his tongue as he swirls it around and you just clutch tighter and tighter. you definitely soaked through the sheets by now, but you follow his command, riding his face over and over until you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach.

“su— suguru, i’m g’nna . .” you moan out quietly, but your priest already knows what’s in store for him, abandoning his own ministrations entirely to please you as he pulls you all the way up to his face, positively cutting off his air supply in the process but he doesn’t care. he only suckles on your clit harder and with more pressure before switching to licking, abusing your puffy clit until you’re speechless and all that comes out of you are ah’s. “cumming, cumming— fuuckk . . !”

“cum on my tongue,” suguru manages to get out in between breaths, “give me all y’r cum, darling.”

those words are enough to send you over the edge, hitting your high with a soundless whine as your hips roll into his face and relentless torture, body continuing to convulse in his hold at the climax. if, before your continued praises sung God, now they were just full of father geto’s name, enunciated through the lips like a passionate blessing before mealtime. suguru, suguru, suguru, even Lucifer was ready to make ready his throne for the both of you.

“shit— sweet as always . .” father geto moans, slurping up all of your cum and making a mess, so much so that you’re giggling shyly at the lewd noises. you rest upon his heaving chest, noting wet patches that stain his black shirt — he came as well. “you treat me so good, don’t you, doll?”

your face twists, “i think i should be the one to say that, father geto.”

“don’t—”

“i like it. rolls off the tongue nicely,” you smirk, easily scooting downwards before settling your pulsing cunt onto his softening cock. but he knows you can get him up at any instance, just as you start grinding your clit along his shaft. the pleasure-filled moan he sounds out never gets old, echoed at the front of the Church of not, “father geto.”

all he shoots you is an unimpressed look, but he can’t keep his look up because the sight of you always inspires a thousand sermons and questions of morality.

“i like the dangerous aspect of it, father geto,” you reason with a sultry voice, grabbing his hardening dick and teasing his weeping tip along your folds. the both of you shiver. “it reminds me of how a holy man like you so easily fell for some pussy and got addicted to it.”

“pretty slut’s developing a dirty mouth,” he laughs, “carry on.”

“fucked a clueless, innocent girl in such a holy place,” you whined when his tip nudges past your pussy and into your gummy walls, spreading you open so deliciously.

“need my help?” you shake your head defiantly, sinking down slowly with calculated steps, gasps escaping your mouth as his cock continues to impale you inch by inch.

“and then claimed her right at the apse of the Church. on the altar, where bread is b-broken and wine is shared.” your eyebrows have knitted together from the pure stretch, descending down fully where you sit a little uncomfortably. no matter how many times you take him, he’s still big and full in you, needing a few moments to adjust as you wiggle your hips.

“can man prevent himself from chasing after his darkest desires?” father geto asks, bumping up his hips just a little and he grins at the little whine you let out.

“no, but God can,” you reason and yet you know you wouldn’t want anything to have changed between the two of you. you still would have wanted father geto’s downfall, you still would have wanted to see him stroking his cock behind the velvet curtains of the confession box.

you momentarily lock eyes with geto, drunk off the feeling of his length in you and the friction of your clit against his pelvis that you naturally gravitate towards him, feeling tired from all the grinding from earlier. he coos, receiving you without any judgement just like how a good priest should do and you feel most at home in his hug.

“what if my God is my darkest desire?” you barely make the connection before geto starts to thrust up into you, not too harshly but not too gently, either. you limp forward and just let him do the work, praising and worshipping you with every snap of his hips from below you.

“o-oh, baby, you’re so tight . .” suguru mumbles, littering kisses all over your neck and face while you struggle to keep yourself up, held up by your weak elbows as you try to meet his eyes. it’s the purple eyes you want to see as he fucks you dumb on his cock, full of lust and only on you as you drop all of your walls for him to enter. suguru tries his best, too, treating you as gently as he can out of the bedroom, which frankly isn’t much, but he tries. he brushes away your hair when it gets into your tongue during communion, he massages your knees in the rectory, he brings chocolate cake whenever he can.

he tries in the bedroom, too, but you are just too much for him. too much in the way that the devil’s whispers start to sound more and more like O Emmanuel and too much in the way he can feel the swell of his heart when even your name is mentioned. father geto doesn’t want to name it love, because in his position it will simply come off as manipulation, deceit.

father geto needs to know you are willing, too.

“father g-geto,” you whine, hands upon his face and sweat lining your brow, “faster, p-please—”

he chokes out a moan, “o-of course, sweetheart.”

you just feel so damn good, clenching so tightly around him that he cannot stop rutting his pelvis into you. he can feel the ripple of your ass with each thrust, the snugly fit tip hitting your g-spot ever so often to pull out the most beautiful moans from you. you’re both so wet and sloppy that you both can hear it — the squelching of your cunt paired with the pre-cum of his cock, mixing at your connected bodies in noisy pap! pap! pap!’s.

“s-suguruuu . . pleasepleaseplease.”

“whaddaya want, baby? words,” geto slurs as well, hips never stilling but now grinding in circles. his glutes and thighs burn but he won’t stop until you tell him what you want.

“i w-want your cum, inside me,” you mewl out like it’s a secret, like he hasn’t been cumming inside you for the past multiple times that you meet, “w-want you to breed me.”

suguru chuckles like it’s a dangerous bet, like he hasn’t emptied his balls deep in your pussy before, “you’re still on the pills, right, baby?”

ah . . the pills, that’s what you wanted to ask him to get more of at the beginning.

you nod hurriedly, “yes— i am, f-fuck—!”

“oh . . my darling’s close,” father geto grunts out, angling his hips so his cock reaches deeper in you, arms trapping you in an eternal embrace like Eve and the devil’s Serpent. you give him lazy, intoxicated kisses, sucking at the skin until there’s bound to be purple and he does the same to yours, albeit lighter.

“y . . yeah, i’m yours, suguru,” you whimper softly, voice breaking from the sheer pleasure once your hand sneaks in between to rub softly at your clit. you suck in a breath when both his cock and your hand find that sweet spot, moans suddenly overflowing into his neck with repeated “yes”’s and profanities until you cum with a cry of suguru’s name, juices spraying everywhere. it’s messy and filthy, your cum soaking his balls and staining the sheets.

“that’s it, thaaat’s it . . squirt all over my cock, baby,” geto continues to ram into your pussy as he praises, hips faltering in the slightest bit, “that’s a good girl.” it only makes you clamp down on his cock harder, making him hiss.

“i w-won’t last long, sweetheart—” he warns you but it’s not enough before he’s stilling in you, pupils blown wide as he shoots spurt upon spurt of hot cum into your cunt, filling you up to the brim as his cock twitches in you. you shiver at the feeling, breathing heavily in his arms as he continues to pump you full. slowly you recover but he stays plugged in, heading back to your position on elbows.

“she’s satisfied?”

you grin with a sigh, “very.”

“that’s all i ever want.” father geto smiles, gently bringing your head down for a gentle kiss on your lips. it turns heated soon enough, the gesture prompting your hips to move again on his very sensitive dick. but with the distant clack of shoe upon cobblestone that increases in volume, the both of you freeze.

“father geto?” it’s a boy’s voice, possibly one of the altar boys.

“what is it?”

the boy seemed to be relieved, as if stepping near the rectory was a sin in itself, “father nanami unfortunately can’t lead the night mass at eight tonight, will you be available?”

you shoot him a disappointed frown, but it is still his job after all. all he manages is a forehead peck.

“a-ah, yes, i am,” father geto thinks if it’s worth asking the next questions, “how many people usually show up to the night mass?”

“not too many, father geto, but it serves mostly the truckers and people in our town who have night shifts.”

you nod since you’ve never attended the night mass at all. father geto has conducted it; it was right on that fateful night where you had texted him about an unnamed confession.

“thank you, go in peace . .” geto shouts his reply and then looks at you with a small smile, speaking softly, “i have an idea.”

it’s only the afternoon when you make it back to your house for lunch before heading back out again like you planned with suguru earlier, following him from a safe distance until you’re out of earshot and sight of the congregation, even if no one was there. he kisses you gently in the sacristy, body pressed up against decades old of wooden cabinets and drawers. you have no idea what your priest has up his sleeve, so your eyes blindly follow his figure that brings out a toolbox proudly, taking out a hammer.

“don’t even know why the sacristy has a toolbox.”

“. . you’re insane,” your mouth drops open when he gives a hint of homily and sermon that you connect the dots, following him a little worried to the apse. there, stands the podium where he gives his readings and sermons, hands going straight for the board that’s nailed shut. turning the hammer around, using the claw at the back of it to remove the nails that hold it down, removing the nails of the lectern one by one with muscles bulking under his robes before it’s revealed.

“looks . .” he whistles lowly at the pristine condition of the wooden podium, “. . i forgot they gifted me a new podium when i transferred.”

“new priest privileges.” you nudge him in the side.

“i’m probably going to get transferred out soon, too,” he jokes with an arm around your waist, and in a perfect world, this would be the two of you looking at your newly built home in those terrible films. instead, you’re here, faced with temptation and sin.

“are you gonna be okay? we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to—” you cut him off with a hand to his crotch, sparing a glance towards the double doors. the church was small, yes, but there was still a good amount of people that attended it, even if the night mass garnered less.

“i’ll be okay, suguru. i’m wet just thinkin’ about it,” the other only hums at your revelation, bending down with you as you slot yourself into the dark place, pockets of light fighting to get in from the amateur job of the podium, “you better go prepare.”

“you’re a gem.” with a soft kiss to your forehead, father geto leaves just as the first parishioner shows up for mass: a whopping 43 minutes before the start of mass. you’re not surprised by the faith in this town, sometimes coming in to complete a rosary, do some extra prayers or partake in confession — but you realise you’re going to have to stay in this lectern for 43 minutes and more before he starts his homily. it’s a perfect fit, but trying not to rattle the box while adjusting yourself seemed to be the most difficult thing.

he had no helpers tonight, no altar boys, such a prime time to commit such a foul act in the eyes of God while he finishes up on the Gospel and you feel your fingertips tingling when he walks from the altar to the podium, dress shoes clicking against the wood of the floor of the rickety Church.

thank god the alb is huge and so is the podium, and thank god there aren’t any pews at the sides of the church. you know he spares some glances, too, so after a few moments of silence to reflect on the words of the Gospel, you’re lifting the alb right to where his boner was. you palm the area in wonder, at the clear sin of the act that you’re currently committing and this is all new to you apart from fucking when the place is empty.

“so big . .” it’s like he hears your whispers, cock twitching under your hold when you slowly remove it from his trousers, slotting his hardening dick through the boxers and zip hole without bringing too much attention. you trail your thumb over his tip that’s leaking pre, a difficult thing to see in such a dark place but you know it’s there when you kitten lick the mushroom tip.

you can hear a falter in his sermon, a stutter of words. leaning forward, you awkwardly switch onto your knees before wrapping your mouth around his length and it’s more clear now when you’re closer to the source of sound.

“. . ory of G-God, excuse me,” geto coughs as if he’s got something stuck in his throat, pulling at his chasuble that feels like choking him at the neck. your mouth continues its teasing, holding onto his thighs as you continue to suck on his fat cock. even now, you struggle to take it all in your mouth, pumping at the bottom while you bob your head. you can only pray that the broadcasted words of the sound system can cover up the obscene noises that your mouth makes.

“mmhh . . j—just, sorry,” the less-than-thirty church-goers don’t pay any mind when his hand snakes down from the top of the lectern toward you, offering his fingers and it’s like salvation after being stuck in there for God knows how long. you grasp at the hand, using your hand to stroke his shaft while you suck on his fingers. in a moment of bravery, you stick your head out as the other wills not to look down, but with a calculated glance to everyone that’s either asleep or zoning out, father geto rewards himself with one gaze while you switch from fingers to his cock.

“oh . .” he restricts himself before any pet name can escape, seeing your pliant mouth take all of him just like that first night but someone coughs and it snaps him out of the daydream, hand going back up.

“we should prioritise the Lord at every part of our day,” geto breathes heavily when he feels you deepthroat him, hands dripping the sides of the podium that you were sure the cheap wood would splinter under his grip. you focus on getting him in your mouth when he steps closer to you and you let out a small sound of surprise; he takes that small break to quickly bun up his hair, all wet from the sweat on his neck.

“mmf—!” there’s a small relief that leaves your priest’s mouth at having his tip hit the back of your throat, muttering a lot of uhm’s and repeated words. he wants to cum, and he wants to cum quick from how his hips thrust into your warm mouth, wanting to do away with conducting mass and to just be in your pliant pussy.

“. . a-and to make sure all our actions honour the Lord our Saviour,” his hips continue to move, continually buried up to the hilt in your mouth over and over as he fucks your mouth. you receive it willingly, hands taking action to play with his balls and that has his thighs tensing up. “and while you continue to live your life in praise—”

“f-fuck,” it’s whispered away from the microphone but you hear it, length twitching in response to your hands before you come off with to breathe. both hands stroke his cock while you suckle on the tip, driving him into insanity that he’s struggling to finish his sermon.

“you’ll be given the greatest graces in Heaven,” father geto shoots his cum down your throat and it’s so much, muscles pulled taut as he continues to buck his hips needily. you can feel him slump forward and out of breath while you continue to milk him and his words start to slur just a tad bit and while you clean him of his semen, you giggle to yourself under the podium as he gathers himself for another look down at you.

the final blow is how you stick out your tongue to show him the cum that’s left, a grin spreading that he just has to give you his hand again as you hold it gently, “—together in eternal life with God Almighty and Christ.”

“i hope i wasn’t too obvious on the lectern two weeks ago,” father geto laughs into your neck at your place, seemingly so long ago where he decided to step into your room and questioned your thesis on Paradise Lost. it felt like it was just last week he was bringing cake to your place, sitting in on dinner, walking with you around the town. now you sit in his lap in the living room of your house, unassuming because of the five day vacation that your parents decided to take. your mother stayed with your father for what, you never could figure out, but with the baby dropped off at the family across the street (your mother knew you’d be busy with university work) and them out to the next town, you did what every university student would do.

you sneaked priest geto in on sunday night, letting him take you on every surface he knew you’d spread your legs for him on, and now sat, freshly showered and the television turned down to a low, you could only hope this was what a life of matrimony could look like. all the dreams and fancy stories your mother tells you, you think you could twist this sick relationship and forbiddenness into something normal for at least five days if you convince yourself enough.

“you were stuttering on every sentence,” you mumble into his hair that starts to smell more and more like yours, arms encircled around his neck while he sits in a mere singlet. “you like my mouth too much.”

“ego te adoramus.” father geto hums quietly, pulling away from the embrace as he looks up at you and he sighs. if only he had found you sooner before starting his theology degree, before he could hear God’s call for him into priesthood. he would be happy being your childhood friend, anything.

“do you ever wish you weren’t a priest?”

geto swallows, brushing away the strands from your face and adjusts you on his lap, “sometimes.”

“my parents were open with my choice, as they always are, but they valued how much i liked to explore and try new things. they only said that i should choose this path carefully because they knew time is something that no one can get back,” he explains, hands stroking your sides carefully and you let yourself dream that you were just a normal couple, “some friends were weird about it, telling me i would miss having sex and whatnot, but i still value my relationship with God and the many things i’ve learned from my journey in the seminary.”

“but?”

“i didn’t expect to . . meet someone like you so soon,” suguru laughs when you shout a small hey!, feigning annoyance, “someone so bright, and loving and kind. someone that embodies what Jesus and the Church stands for, and something i’ve never seen in ages. unconditional compassion.”

“your praise is too heavy,” you swat away his hand, only attributing your disposition to your mother’s exemplary way of raising you, “is simple kindness that hard to see?”

“you shadow a lot of priests in conducting masses, baptising people, giving first communions, and you see a lot of personalities — some that are vile for people that regularly go to Church. it’s disheartening to see Christians who are clearly wrapped up in their privilege and pride and think they’re the most important religion to exist. you hear it in history books, through word of mouth.” geto looks just like a boy, frustrated with the world that he lives in that a scowl settles into his features and his hands ball fabric into tight fists.

you manage to relax him a little, running your thumbs over his face and hands; he twines his fingers with yours. “i thought that if i went in, i could at least try to reshape the community. bit by bit, open their minds about abortion, about the queer community, but it is proving hard when the first church you’re transferred to is a small town.” that gets a giggle out of you.

“you’re not wrong, suguru, for trying your hardest. it’s so admirable. i’m trying to unlearn things about the Church that my mom has taught me too, and it’s all interesting reads alongside my second year of uni. if you can change one mind, there’s the potential to change many others.”

geto lets you rest your forehead on his, closing his eyes to just feel you, “thank you.”

he’s not even sure when to tell you that he’s fallen in love, the hardest he’s ever done since in high school with his first love, or in university studying theology, and he’s not even sure it’s love. all he knows is that when he looks at you, a life until silver hair is all he can think about.

“you can do it,” you break the ice softly, placing a peck on his lips, “i believe in you.”

“i don’t think they would wanna believe a sex-crazed priest, darling, not when i wanna give you the life you deserve.”

you sigh, hiding your face, “i don’t think we can achieve that, suguru, not while you’re still married to the Church and i’m supposed to be celibate.”

“that’s out the window—” and he laughs when you slap him on the bicep, finding that you’d want him to laugh more. he does it sometimes when he gives sermons, recounting a specific story about his mother, or while baptising a baby. it’s pure like a young boy’s laughter, something to be protected, the way his eyes crinkle and lips stretch . .

“what if i break priesthood for you?”

what?

“no . .” you brows furrow, “don’t say stuff like that.”

“why not, my love?” you continue to shake your head, standing from your place on his lap and he’s confused — wouldn’t you want this?

“don’t call me that—” your safe space, your room is the only place all you can think in, and you escape to it before he can catch a thread of your clothing. father geto calling you that means he’s officially fallen, chained to the river Styx. the descent was fun, but you didn’t want to be the reason why he’d truly throw away all of his hard work, you didn’t want him to be shamed, nor did you want to be called out for being a temptress. self-serving while serving others — maybe that’s how Christians operated and you were the walking proof of it.

geto thinks he’s messed up big time and unsure of the reason why as he lets you stay in your room to cool down. he only sends out a text simply to check on you, but it takes you an hour before you’re ready; once he hears the click of your door, he’s heading up the stairs and pushing open the door gently.

just like that first night, he’s cautious when he enters your room as if touching your sacred place will have him reciting rosaries as penance, as an apology for staining your heart and your body. you stand.

“i don’t want you to leave everything behind just for me . .” you sound out, sniffling softly and the priest’s heart already shatters at the sound, “all your hard work, the years you did in the seminary and then just dumping it all just for a chance with a woman who you don’t even know whether will be suitable as your lover.”

geto’s expression softens in the dark room, only illuminated by fluorescent light from your bedside table lamp — “i won’t leave anything behind; all those years, all the studies, all of it mattered because somehow it still led me to you. if that isn’t God’s doing, i don’t know what else it was. my definition of Christianity has been entirely reimagined, entirely changed when i look at you, a person filled with nothing but pure lovingness and soft-heartedness and yet i still feel proud when you said you wished harm on your father because i know that Christ didn’t ask men to gouge their eyes out for nothing.”

he grabs your hands, stroking the back of your palms and stepping close to you as much as you will let him. suguru plants feather-like kisses onto skin before continuing, “i will always carry my Christianity with me, the shame, its history and if i fall, so be it. Lucifer had fallen many times after, crouching by Eve’s ear to whisper sin, turning into a serpent to give her the forbidden fruit, sentenced to rule Hell because he himself is Hell.”

“and are you dragging me down with you?”

“i have been dragged to the darkest pits of Hell from the moment i saw you, and if anything, while i worship God, i cannot ignore the olive branch that you hold out to me like a saving grace, like you ascend the same pedestal that the Trinity sits on.”

you swallow, eyes breaking contact and he’s quick to rectify that, both palms on your cheeks and your face is tilted upwards.

“our God will always be there for repentance if you wish so, but allow me to indulge in the blasphemy and filthiness and sacrilege of craving someone so desperately that my body burns from thinking about her and my knees want to strike the Earth whenever she’s around me.”

the sentence takes you aback before he’s leaning forward, but abruptly stops short— it’s rushed, can i kiss you?

“yes. yes, suguru—”

and he kisses you with the force of a thousand suns and the most detrimental winds of the pacific, arms going from your face right to your body as he wraps you in his love. geto deepens the kiss just as he always has, but the feelings that spark in you differ greatly from just mindless kissing during sex. it’s full of passion, full of possibly everything he’s kept bottled up as he walks you to your bed, yelping in surprise when the back of your knees hit the mattress.

“do you still have your pills, my love?”

your fingers bunch up the same sweater he wears on the first day, “i . . ran out . . a while ago.”

“i’m surprised those pills work even after i cum so much in you,” that really draws a hearty laugh from your stomach, “but whatever happens, i’ll be here.”

“the feeling’s just too good—” you giggle, squealing when father geto lifts you off the floor and puts you on the bed.

“if you test positive, and if you want to keep it or abort it, i’m okay,” geto hovers over you, looking at you with so much love you wonder how you miss it the many times you’ve been together, “i’ll support you in everything that you do.”

a peak of silver shines in the moonlight under his sweater and you realise this feels like the first time you lost control over your lust, the first time you touched yourself. like heeding a call, his crucifix falls from the safety of his sweater and almost hits you in the face if not for suguru pulling away in worry.

“was it just like this?” he teases with a small smirk, knees already nudging your legs apart, “you imagined me fucking you with this dangling in your face?” your face heats up at the mention, at the fact he still manages to remember that confession and you nod whilst biting your lip. 

“well, you get to live it now,” geto grins, leaning down to plant a kiss to your lips before having his way with you.

and have his way did he — you aren’t even sure what round you’re on at the moment, simply subjected to getting you face smushed into your pillow as he pounds into you from behind. geto grunts as he eases his cum-filled cock back into your sweet cunt, hands travelling everywhere over your sweaty back.

“are you okay, baby?”

you turn your head with arms still buried in the pillow, a cock drunk smile on your face, “splendid.”

“goin’ in— shiit . .” geto sinks into you easily, your mixed juices proving easy before getting himself right up to the hilt. his mouth hangs open in pleasure, pants leaving both your lips before he starts to thrust and the wetness is just straight-up obscene. with a wordless tug, father geto brings you close to him, wrapping an elbow around your neck while the other settles for your tummy, feeling the muscle that curls around you. he doesn’t trap you so tightly, simply holding your limp body up as his pelvis rams into you.

“your pussy’s just so good, darling,” he mutters into your neck as your head tilts back in ecstasy while your body trembles in geto’s hold.

“s’full, suguru . .” you whine, hands flailing for his toned arms that encircle your body while he thrusts, cum spilling from where you were connected onto your sheets. it was a blessing your parents were out because father geto doesn’t hold back with the way he fucks you, voice carrying throughout the house and permeating the walls that you hoped the neighbours wouldn’t hear.

going for multiple rounds meant the two of you were highly sensitive, jolting when his hand sneakily drew circles along your clit and matched his pace, while his length in you kept twitching and pulsing from the way your gummy walls wrap around him. “s-suguru — i need you, p-please—”

“i’m here, sweetheart,” geto chokes out, hand wrapping around the expense of your neck and turning your face, indulging himself in a sinful kiss that you return immediately. tongue and saliva is everywhere, hands and hips never slowing down when it comes to you and your sweet pussy. “i’m here, always, amie.”

“i’m gonna c— fuck— shit,” you tighten around his cock at the name, moaning into his mouth like a mantra, like a mystery that cannot be solved as he cums with a guttural groan into you and you shiver from the feeling of him filling you that you forget all about your own pleasure, body shaking with mini orgasms instead. “lay forward . .”

it’s softly spoken, and you obey, eyes fluttering close when he pulls out slowly and geto’s fixated on the drip of his cum that falls from your pussy. flipping you over instantly, he smears your juices together and all over your centre, smiling at how your legs close in on each other at the sensitivity. his tip’s filled with your cum, a messy painting of your repeated rounds.

“you’re the most stunning right here,” he breathes out as he rests on his calves, cock still hard. his hand trembles as he strokes himself, moaning softly at the warmth that he misses already and he’s brought to attention again when you whimper softly. you’re fingers play lazily with your folds, finger rubbing circles into your clit and all he can think about is pumping you full of his cum again when you look at him from under your eyelashes, with a subtle pout and the plea of the eye.

“fuck me again, father geto,” you mumble, “fuck me until i’m full of your cum.”

the priest only grunts lowly at that, trailing his angry tip along your pussy and collecting your juices before slipping in. the both of you gasp at the sensation, more of you when his hands close around your knees and push. he’s forcing your legs right up to your chest the same time he enters you, sending you deeper into desperation that you writhe on the bed.

“ohh . . tha’s a perfect pussy right there . .” suguru slurs, body pushed against your bent legs as his cross swings back and forth like an omen, like a crow watching your movements, “will you be mine, my darling?”

your voice comes out in high-pitched whines at his question, so intimate, so loving in such a dirty space. you can only manage nods when he starts to move, this new position allowing him to reach much, much deeper into you that you preen at the overwhelming feelings that bubble in your chest.

“yesyesyes! r-right there, suguru—” your back arches off your childhood bed, where you first prayed, where you first read the Bible, where you did your homework, where you first fingered yourself, all overthrown by the sheer blasphemy that geto suguru wished to indulge in, and you give it to him just like that, “f-fuck! love your cock in me, father!”

“o-oh . . you’re playing a dangerous game, c-calling me that, baby,” his eyes also struggle to stay open, committing your pleasure-filled face to memory as your jaw slacks and your eyes roll back. he can see your tits move with his rough thrusts as well, licking his lips while feeling you fuck him back, “are you close?”

“mhmm—” you’re humming, mumbling incoherent sentences at this point as your mind fogs at the neck-deep euphoria you were in. with the room that’s filled with sex to the nasty, sloppy noises of his balls hitting your ass, and soaking wetness that can be heard from a mile away, the both of you are lost to the claws of Hell. geto knows you’re close with the way your cunt tightens and your breathing escalates, using his thumb to rub at your clit and now you truly feel like you’re going insane.

“c-close . . haah—” your eyes try to stay open to look at the sight above you: messy-haired and body lined with sweat, the beautiful entity of abstinence and temptation all in one person. you fumble with his shoulders, wanting to pull him closer so you can admire him up close while he drives you to your high. the moment of vulnerability only spurs geto on, drawing out the brutal, carnal need he has for you.

“is that it? you wanted this?” he grunts out through gritted teeth, “you wanted me to fuck your pussy until it knows the shape of my cock?” the words muttered sends goosebumps throughout your body. you nod, “you wanted me to defile this pretty pussy so no one else can fuck you, isn’t that right?”

you whimper at the words as he pushes your legs further into your chest, “cum on my cock, darling.”

and you do. generous with it, you’re gushing all over his length as he continues fucking you through your overstimulation, thumb slowing its ministrations on your puffy clit as he chases his own climax. “taking my cock so well, so good like the good slut she is,” the other says through a small grin, hips stuttering when you give him a small yeah in return.

“another load for you, baby,” father geto groans out loudly before he switches to quick, fast thrusts into your warm, welcoming pussy before cumming with a whine, shooting thick ribbons of white deep into your womb. your moans are swallowed by geto as he continues to fill you to the brim, painting your insides and enjoying your slow, needy kisses.

“she’s had her fill,” you mumble softly, feeling sleepy while the other only hums in agreement. slowly, geto lets your legs down which only plop down on the bed, unsheathing himself from you and relishing in the way the cum dribbles out, glob after glob of cum leaving your pussy and onto the sheets, “are you okay, suguru?” he takes your shaky hand, interlocking your fingers with his as he scoots up to you, closer until he’s just over you.

“always better with you here.” you roll your eyes, tugging on the crucifix and pulling him into you where your lips collide, feeling him collapse by your side even as your mouths continue their movements. all you do is smother each other with hands, one through his sweaty locks and his grabbing your waist. you want to live through the feeling of his front against yours for eternity, deepening the kiss with your tongue and moaning softly when his fingers squeeze your ass secretly.

“you just stay here and i’ll clean you up,” with one last peck to your temple, father geto navigates your house like he lives there, getting a rag and wetting it before he cleans you up gently, fabric travelling along your skin like a kiss of hellfire as he massages your legs, your arms. there’s a multitude of things before the two of you succumb to slumber, going to the toilet, grabbing something to eat and then wallowing in some late night conversations (“do you think you find me in other universes?” / “i’ll find you in every one.”) until finally, you two settle in each other’s arms.

it’s like a still painting that would be studied by future literature students, scrutinised by art critics all over the world of a sacrilegious relationship that should not have place for love, that should not have place for purity, but the feeling of geto suguru’s arms from behind wound tightly and protectively around your physique feels like both the good and bad of the secular world. love and lust can coexist.

just as father geto worships, your luggage is quickly packed up a few weeks later alongside a pregnancy test that looks awfully reminiscent of the cross in the church. picture frames emptied, laptop and papers packed, a barren land of what used to be the place of a God-serving, holy girl — and even if knowledge caused her downfall, she was more than willing to own up to it. the room looked larger and drab with everything gone; you aren’t even sure how you fit everything into the luggage.

the fallen angels watch over your encounters with crinkles of the paper of your farewell letter, the squeaky floorboards, and the atmosphere of the night sounding like vacuum from its sheer silence as you snuck out of the house and into the stark night, hands clasped within each other’s while gravel below your feet reminded you of your situation. you weren’t sure if you were walking to salvation or away from it, but at least you knew Eden was by your side, with the lavender scent of your shared shampoo on both your heads and his saccharine words.

after walking for what felt like forever to avoid detection, geto waves excitedly to a car in the distance which seemed to house two men — one blonde that looks awfully like father nanami and the other, a white-haired man.

“i called up some friends,” suguru brings your connected hands to his lips and his tired eyes soften even further, pressing soft pecks along your fingers and face. your priest catches you in a sensual kiss, humming into it and mumbling sweet nothings that sound just like Lucifer in Eve’s ear, but you’re too enamoured with the sparks you leave on one another to notice the commencement of your coronation at Pandæmonium.

“we’ll be okay, amie. ego te amo ut dum stellae luceant.”

“Rise, then, to the thrones of Moloch and Paimon, of Belial and Beelzebub, of the infamous angel who challenged his Creator and clawed his way from the Stygian pool to Pandæmonium made of demon blood and soot-filled fingertips. Rise to Lucifer, and take your rightful place on the throne overflowing with hate and vice and villainy, and rule Hell just as how he would’ve wanted it.”

a/n: another insane piece .. pls dont look / tagging @mysugu @slttygeto @screampied @suguruplsr @na-t0 @peachsayshi

[carlsdarling]

No Mercy Part II

This was requested a lot. The hate-love-story between Carl and Y/N, who is Negan's daughter, evolves... Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, slightly violent sex (consensual), angst, abusive language

During the following weeks you and Carl just couldn't stop doing two things: Fighting hatefully and fucking each other. It almost became a ritual. And the more violently you argued, the better the ensuing sex, which was always rough. After you spent an evening at Ron's to watch a movie with him and Enid, Carl was convinced that you had been drooling over Ron. "You were checking him out the whole time," he kept angrily accusing you as you headed home to Rick's house. "You probably want to fuck him."

"So what if I am? What's business is it of yours, Carl?" you snapped. "Maybe he's better than you? Not that it's that difficult."

By now you'd reached the house. Carl opened the door, roughly dragged you over the threshold and immediately pushed you into the pantry next to the kitchen, where he ripped off your jeans and panties, shoved you face-first against the wall and without foreplay penetrated you from behind, fucking you with hard thrusts. "Carl, yes, please," you whimpered, pressing against him as your head kept hitting the shelf above you.

He buried his face against your neck to silence his moans. "I've wanted to rail you all evening, but you presented yourself to Ron like a slut! How many times do I have to tell you that you're my personal fucking property?" snarled Carl, pounding even harder, aggressively rubbing your clit with his right hand. He covered your mouth to prevent the other people in the house from waking up as you cum and screamed out loud. " Do you see? See? You hate me, and every time you cum on me you beg for more," he gasped contentedly, enjoying his orgasm. His cum dripped onto the floor as he pulled out of you. Upstairs you continued, the whole night was filled with angry sex, and in the morning you both had quite a few bruises, hickeys and scratches to hide.

Subsequently, the situation between you began to change slowly and almost unnoticeably. You started sneaking into each other's room more and more often in the late evening and eventually having sex in bed. What was new was that you didn't always argue beforehand. Then a few times you found yourselves lying together afterwards, cuddling and exchanging caresses. Whenever you became aware of it, one of you would angrily stop it right there and start a fight, whereupon either you or Carl would storm out of the room and the old ways would be reinstated. You hated Carl, and he hated you, and sex was just a way of expressing that hatred and it had to be violent.

Then the day came when Carl went out with Rick and some others, but they returned without him. "Where's Carl?" you asked in a squeaky voice, looking all around for him.

Rick looked utterly distraught. "We lost him," he muttered.

You felt like you'd been thrown into ice water. "Is he... dead?" For some inexplicable reason, the thought of never seeing Carl again shocked you. Even more unbearable was the idea that he might have turned into a walker, soulless and distorted.

"We don't know, we were separated by a bunch of walkers. We need to get back out there now, with more people, and search for him." Rick ruffled his hair.

For the next few hours you couldn't think clearly, nervously pacing from room to room, and when you finally saw Rick and Michonne approaching the house with Carl between them, you felt sick with relief. Carl looked pale and exhausted, and he was completely sweaty, filthy, and stained with blood and other weird substances. "You stink," was the first thing you said to him, and you turned up your nose. „It’s disgusting.“

"Screw you," he said wearily.

You waited for Carl to go into the bathroom and entered ten minutes later when he turned off the shower. He was sitting on the toilet lid, and was busy patching up his numerous bruises. Hastily he adjusted his bandage to hide his missing eye from you; you had never seen it. "I really thought you got killed, Carl," you blurted out.

He stood up and met your gaze in the mirror. "You would have liked that, wouldn't you?" he asked with a sneer, but there was something else in his beautiful blue eye. The one he still had.

You quickly nodded. "You bet," you agreed with him. "Anyway - I'm disappointed you're still alive," you said venomously, and went to your room.

It wasn't long before Carl showed up to throw you on the bed recklessly and wanted to fuck you. You had hoped he would do so; your whole body was craving him, and eagerly you wrapped your arms around him.

But he stopped the attempt shortly after with his face wrenched in agony. There was a bloody Band-aid stuck to his stomach. "Carl, what is it?" you asked, startled. "Are you in pain?" Before he could stop you, you grabbed the Band-aid and loosened it. It wasn't a bite, just a nasty cut that looked infected. The wound was located just below the scar he already had when he had been shot back then and Hershel had saved his life.

"It's not that bad," Carl claimed, taking the Band-aid away from you and reapplying it to the wound.

"Yes, it is," you countered, "You need antibiotics."

"Why do you even care?" he asked dismissively, frowning.

"Oh, I don't," you promptly returned. "Go and do whatever you want. I couldn't care less how you feel. But you can't rail me in this state anyway, so you're useless, so piss off," you hissed, pushing him away and tossing a pillow at him. Carl gathered up his clothes, showed you his middle finger and left the room - but not without turning around once more, winking at you and mockingly throwing you a kiss. You shook your head with an annoyed grin and switched off the light.

Then everything happened very quickly. The next morning, Rick caught up with you in the hallway as you were about to go to the bathroom. Carl had taken some medicine - in the end, he had listened to you - and now he was fast asleep. "'Get your things together,'" Rick ordered. "You're leaving."

"But... why..."

"Your father's people captured Gabriel," Rick informed you angrily. "The Saviours have a hostage, we have a hostage. We'll trade you."

Stunned, you stuffed your few belongings into a bag, then Rick hustled you into the car and drove you to the main gate. "I'm sorry you didn't have a chance to say goodbye to Carl," Rick said.

"Carl and I hate each other," you said coldly. Rick looked at you with amusement, but made no comment.

After some mutual accusations and insults between him and Negan, you were handed over to your father at the same time Gabriel was walking towards the Alexandria gate. Before you realized it, you were sitting next to your father in the car, and you were on your way back to the Sanctuary.

Negan looked at you from the side. "Are you alright? Have these bastards done anything to you?"

"No, Rick treated me well," you said tersely. You had been caught completely unaware of what had happened. Ten minutes later, you felt the sourness of stomach acid filling your mouth. "Stop the car. Stop the car right now. I'm going to puke," you managed to say. Negan stopped the car, you yanked open the door just in time and vomited onto the asphalt.

"Are you sick?" your father inquired as he restarted the motor. "Maybe the fish from last night was rotten," you evaded the question.

(yessss there will be a part 3... tell me if you liked the plot development 🥰)

[dantenyhpmir]

Under the Mask

Pairing; Konig x F!Reader

Plot; When a bullet goes through Konig's mask and he survives you suspect there might be something supernatural under that cloth

Warnings; CNC, unprotected sex, Oral Sex (F Receiving), Eldritch horror themes, supernatural sex, anal play

Word Count; 3340

Dante Nyhpmir Masterlist

You and Konig had been seeing each other for a while now. Well seeing each other in a way? You weren't sure. You spent every lunch together, never running out of anything to talk about. He always asked about your day, checked in with you. It was sweet, he'd listen to you ramble on about your niche interests. Whatever side of the internet you found yourself on this week, he'd listen to your stories for hours. He especially loved when you'd talk about all your favourite horror novels but how you'd never watch scary movies. "The irony" he'd say. Offer to watch the movies with you but never really finding the time to do so. He had reached your hand once on a mission though caught himself and let go before the others could see. That's basically seeing each other right? You weren't supposed to fraternize, especially at this ranking but something about that made it even more appealing. You knew the others were. You had no proof of Ghost and the other woman on your sniper squad, Zero but something was going on that Price turned a blind eye to. He could do the same for you and Konig, no?

No. Konig was different. There was something very specific about him that they kept their eyes on more. Ghost they left alone, let him run around the shadows killing as he pleased. Quietly. Konig was bigger, more violent and loud when it came to his missions. Never missed a target.

Price wanted to know where everyone was on a mission but they tracked Konig. He only had so many hours that were free before we would be ushered away. Making horror movie hours difficult to actually pull the trigger on though heightened the thrill. Made you want him a bit more than you already did. You couldn't pretend that he didn't dismiss your observations though. Anytime you'd question why he was so heavily watched compared to the others, he'd deflect. "I'm not being watched anymore than anyone else" or "I think you're seeing what you want to see." It wasn't in a harsh tone either, rather gentle when he said it but you knew he was hiding something.

You had never seen his face. He never let you. You'd try to hold his face through the cloth that drapes down over his eyes but he'd always gently move your hands away, to the back of his neck or shoulders.

Your mind starts wondering if he has something to hide underneath. Like actually hiding, not just a scar but …. What could you even be hiding? It had been months though, spending time together, sneaking off when you could, a lot of late night chats yet, he never kissed you. Did he even have lips underneath? Stupid. Stupid thoughts.

They didn't seem so stupid though after the latest mission. You were watching Konig much closer than usual. Your sniper is meant to be trained on the enemies but your scope couldn't leave Konig. You wanted to see him move, see if the cloth would ever jossl in a way that you could make something out. It seemed silly, that shouldn't be your priority compared to training your eyes on the enemy but it added up when you saw a bullet go through one side of the cloth and then the other but he stood still, calm and unaffected. Really, unaffected.

That should've killed him. Should've taken his jaw clean off but nothing. Absolutely nothing. The next few days your brain is realigning. Before you know it you're doubting yourself and each time you replay what you saw in front of you, it shakes out differently. What you saw turns into what you believe you saw, what you think you saw. It kept you up at night. You had lived a rough enough life before joining 141, most of the team had. You knew your brain would change memories the more you replayed them. Or at least distort them. The distraction of if you really saw the bullet go through his mask all became too much over the next few days. Zero had noticed but you'd shrug it off. How could you share anything with anyone, there was nothing to share. Yet. You could find out. If you found the mask.

It was late. Everyone had their debriefs. Konig was last. Always last. You and Zero were first, Price wanted the woman to still feel prioritized. Honestly it wasn't something you thought about but right now "ladies first" was perfect for your plan. Giving you all the time to sneak into Konig's room while everyone was occupied waiting for their meeting with Price.

You search through as many of his things as possible. Trying not to upset where they might be too much but folding the clothes back to how they were was a skill you didn't exactly have. Especially in your panic. What were you doing? Could this have really driven you SO unhinged that you snuck into a man's room to look through his things. This is the kind of thing you'd hope a man would never do to you. And yet. You just, needed answers.

It dawned on you for a moment, why were there only clothes. Where were the pictures? Where were plants or any decorations. It was just a dark room with a dresser and bed. Nothing else….

The search became more and more desperate. Why would he even keep that mask if it had happened. Why would anyone? What would it even prove if you found it? What wo-

It was buried beneath the others. You held it up and light from your cell phone flashlight Shawn between the holes. Not the eye holes. Lower.

Where the bullet went through.

It takes a minute to process before you hear him.

"Liebling" he calls to you "What are you doing in my quarters?"

When did he even come in, you never heard him?

"Konig" you don't turn around. "Did, did a bullet go through your mask?"

You can feel the steps he takes, his body standing behind you. His arms slowly wrap around and lower your arms. His chest pressed against your back.

"It was, how you say, a close call" he says calmly as he takes the mask out of your hands.

"I saw it Konig" you finally turn to face him. "It should've gone through your jaw."

"You must be mistaken" He reassures

"Konig I can see the holes in your mask from the bullet?!" You yell but something catches your eye. Something moved under his cloth mask and your eyes dart around him.

There's silence.

You don't know what's wrong but you know something is in the air. Your spine knows when you're in danger. You played your hand too soon and he steps closer. His chest pushing against you as you catch your body with your hands leaning on his pecs.

"You should not have come here my pet" he says looking down at you

You can't move. Even now, even with every sense of danger, he isn't saying anything hostile. How does he possibly manage to wake every nerve in your body but calm it at the same time. You can't go anywhere. You can't move. You won't move. You want answers.

"Konig" you say calmly, looking up at him.

He says nothing. Just watching your eyes. Sensing all your fear and empathy drenching from them.

"What is under your mask?"

"You won't understand"

"I'd like to try"

He does nothing.

"If I show you, no one will believe you." He says calmly.

"Konig what is going on?! You can't bare to kiss me, you don't have a jaw, is there anything under there?!"

"I can't answer that"

"You won't"

"It's not something, explainable."

"Try me"

He exhales, slowly taking off his helmet and holding his hands at the bottom of the cloth mask.

"You won't be able to unsee it Liebling"

You nodd. Not understanding what you're getting into. No one could. No one can prepare you for something your mind doesn't really grasp.

Konig pulls the cloth off his head, it relieves everything and yet, nothing. His face isn't human but it's not anything you'd seen before either. It's like your mind shuts down what it's actually seeing, it can't fathom it. The closest thing it feels and looks like is light. Light radiating off him and also tentacles? Not like octopus but.. .. not anything close to an animal that's on earth. You've read about these before. Eldritch horrors.

You're so hypnosised by the glow as some of the tentacles curl around your face. Holding your jaw the way a man would with his hands. Konig's forehead touches yours as the tentacles wrap around and pull your face closer. One tightens around your neck. Your brain switches from the beautiful seren energy of the light to a moment of pure fear as it tightens.

Your eyes widen and you stare at his eyes in panic. Were these eyes ever human?

"Konig, are you going to kill me?" You ask with a gulp

"No," he says gently "I'm finally going to have my fun with you"

Your body is wrapped up completely, where the other tentacles arms came from you had no real idea. The room was pitch black, you had no clue where his body began and where the other arms and darkness began. You could only see his eyes. Staring at you. Wanting you with every slight change in eye direction. Caressing you before the extra arms would. His face antennules let go go of you as you realize other tentacles had already made their way to your body. Holding you. You didn't know when that happened but they were there. From the pitch black of the floor.

They slowly moved around your ankles, pulling off your shoes. Running farther up your legs to your belt and taking off your pants. As it took your shirt off it wrapped your arms up again behind you as you turn back to look at Konig. What you think is Konig. The closest thing he has to a human form as you're wrapped up in the dark by what feels like his minions. But they aren't their own people. People

Time didn exist. It all happened so slowly yet it didn't really seem like it changed. You didn't feel like you changed yet you were a part of this force. Whatever was rilling up in the dark and wrapping your body. Your now naked body.

You can't feel the floor. Some other being is holding you. Like you're floating as the tentacles wrap themselves around your wrist, tightening. Curling back around your ankles, slowly sliding up. Biting their time with your body. Holding on and caressing the back of your knees, and with each twitch they get tighter. Each slight jerk of pleasure your body makes, it responds too and tightens.

You close your eyes drifting off in pleasure as they curl up even closer. Wrapping around your thighs, you can feel the edge of them just close enough to your lips but not touching. Not yet. They wait patiently for Konig.

Your eyes open. You can see him. Standing in front of you. What you think is Konig. Those are his eyes. His human eyes. It's hard to make out his face and he doesn't really give you much time. He puts the cloth back on over his face but the tentacles attached to his jaw like to peek out. Say hello. Meet the parts of you they hadn't gotten the chance too yet.

It was terrifying. And euphoric.

Your body was completely on display and pinned there for him. To play with. To do whatever he wanted. Whatever that could look like.

His fingers tips delicately touched the top of your skin over your stomach, slowly moving and wrapping around your waist as the tentacles around your thighs pulled at you. Spreading you. His hands pulled your body closer to him and the other beings holding you obliged.

You couldn't look away, you also couldn't talk. Nothing would come out of your mouth when you tried. Konig stayed dead slight ,too but what was there to say?

You only watched. Eyes wide and mouth unable to fully shut.

The helper tentacles finally stop spreading you once your lips had pulled apart so Konig had a perfect view of your clit before he could taste it. Somehow, through all of this, your body was washed with excitement and a stand spread across your lips as they opened. Konig raised his hand for them to stop and they followed right away.

Was he it's leader? Brain? Were they physically connected some how? How did this work?

None of that matters. Not once the tentacles from his face started caressing between your thighs. One slowly massaging the spot where your legs met your pelvis, the other curling around your waist, another reaching around behind to hold your ass. Honestly you lost track of how many there were. You lost track of time. Your thoughts. Everything. You weren't here and with each tentacle doing its own job, you could let yourself go. Your eyes glaze over as another finds its way just around your ass, then tighter into a grab.

You yelp. It's the closest thing you've made to a noise since you've been here. Since, that, thing, Konig, whoever, took over your body. All of them are drowning in what feels like, spit, moving around your body. One makes its way to your back entrance. Gently running back and forth. Waking up every nerve. Your eyes light up. No noise this time. Just Konig's eyes staring up at you as it wriggles its way in, stimulating you to a fault as you whip your head back but his companions won't let that happen.

One of the floor tentacles wraps itself around your neck, another to the sides of your head, pushing it forward. Your eyes back on Konig's as his face destroys you. As if you dared to see, you dared watched. You weren't allowed to look away now.

You could feel it curl between your lips. Two of them, slowly making their way inbetween you, crawling closer and closer. More wrapping around your waist. Tighter and tighter. One moves from your lip to your clit, just ever so slightly wrapping around, massaging it as the other traces the entrance to your cunt in slow circles. Reminding you where it was headed, what it wanted.

You can hear inside your head, Konig's voice. Many of Konig's voices, some off set, some in trance with one another. All saying the same thing

"Don't look away"

As it registers they bury themselves inside you, pushing as deep as they can while the other pieces wrap around your waist and stomach and pull you in closer. You let out a scream of shock but another aiding tentacle pushes your jaw up to shut it. It can't entirely, you're too in awe. Can't stop moaning at the other stimulation but Konig can't have anyone hear. No one else can enter this place and find what he is, so he has to shut you up.

It moves closer and plunges itself into your mouth, something for you to gag on while the rest of you can be finished off. You can't escape this, do you want too? It was overwhelming and terrifying and objectifiying and yet every nerve wanted to be woken up. Even as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your vision pointed to what was being done to you.

To the pieces spreading open your lips and feeling every inch of your wall, stretchy you out as the other put pressure on your stomach so you could feel the roof of your own cunt being pushed against. Your clit being slapped and then caressed at a moment's notice. Every possible drop coming from you spreads around your lips and drips down on the pieces wrapped around your legs. Finding their way to the sensitive spot between your ass and cunt. The final tentacle at your back door never letting up. Never not letting you know every nerve and feeling you had there.

All of it at once, all it was so overstimulating. Tears ran down your face as you choked and gagged on another piece. The ones holding your wrist behind your back got tighter and pushed your chest forward. Your breasts on display as more tentacles wrapped around them. You try and gasp for air, it was the last thing that hadn't been touched.

If you had air you would scream for a break, just for a moment. Catch your breath. Hold off but your mouth was full. Something told you, you didn't need your mouth to communicate. You heard Konig's voice in your head. He had to be hearing yours? He had to know how scared you were, how thrilled you were, the break that you needed.

He knew. He didn't care. You could see it in his eyes and his voice echoed in your head.

"Let. Go."

Your drool falling all over your neck. You're a mess. Leaking everywhere as the tentacles have their fill with you. You go to scream as your body writhes, but all there is to hear is the muffling choking sounds of you gagging.

"Don't look away" echoes again

Your body pulsing. The tentacles try to hold you, you can feel every response to yours. How it blends together, how they'll find a spot that twitches, push and build, you'll react and it repeats, all in harmony. All in over stimulated overwhelming harmony. Your body couldn't take much more, it wasn't prepared for this.

"You wanted this" rings in your ear

"You wanted to see me" echoes

Your eyes shut but you still see his eyes. They've followed you to wherever you are when you enter your mind

"You can't hide from me" Konig's voice echoed.

Feeling chased into spaces you didn't think he could follow. Your eyes shake open as your body finally let's go. It has to be present, has to be in this exact moment where every sense comes to life and let's go as your body floods with an orgasm it didn't think it was capable of. To have so much attention to your body just explode out of you. Your body jerks and writhes for, you don't even know how long, as the tentacles let it move as it needs too. With every twitch adjusting to you to make sure you were comfortable as you drip and drip onto the pitch black abbyuss of the floor.

It takes a long time before your body is able to fully calm down. It's exhausted, being used so heavily. The pieces bring you to bed, lay you down gently. Konig covers you up and you curl up next to him. Laying on his chest. His eyes looking down at you. Not saying a word. Not explaining anything.

Your hands reach up to his jaw, but not touching. Waiting for them to accept the touch as one of tentacles reaches out to touch your hand, Konig turns his head to have his forehead touch yours and the tentacles caress your face as your eyes flutter and your mind fades away into sleep out of pure exhaustion.

His voice rings in your head again. Echoing.

"I wanted to do more than kiss you"

Your body needed rest. To recover.

It felt like days had passed, you weren't sure they hadn't but you still couldn't move when you managed to wake up. Alone. In his bed.

There was a note left for you.

"I told them you were sick, stay in bed Liebling. I'll take care of you tonight."

You curled back into the covers. You had searched for answers but hadn't even left with a single one.

Only more questions.

That you couldnt fathem.

Dante Nyhpmir Masterlist

[romana-after-dark]

Blessed be the Fruit: Finale, part 1

Commander!Joel Miller x Handmaid!Reader

Series masterlist Join dark!Romana's tag list Dark!Romana's Masterlist

Summary: Joel takes you somewhere different, meeting Tommy there

Content and Warnings: DARK JOEL! DUB CON! (stressing the dub con again this chapter)

Although no violent rape happens like in TWW, reader is under systemic misogyny and a society of ritualized sex abuse. Everything other than the violent rape scenes, everything that happen in either The Handmaids Tale book or show are liable to happen here including but not limited to discussion of rape, child abuse, child marriage, ritualized sexual abuse, sexual abuse in general, acts of violence, major character deaths, mentions of miscarriage but never shown and never pregnancies we know of. Big ole homophobia warning, specifically in regards to lesbophobia. As for Joel, PIV sex, breeding kink, degrading (slut, whore etc but thing like Raider!joel) forced breeding and breeding kink, power dynamics, Joel is not the good guy but he’s also not the worst, slightly rough sex but not violent. Warnings are liable to be added as the story goes but I’ll always update. As always if I miss something please tell me, but i extensively label my warnings and in the end media consumption is your own choice. If you would like to know if this is a happy ending or not you can message me and I’ll tell you that way I don’t spoil for everyone but you can decide if this is for you.

Immersability: Reader has long hair, can conceive children theoretically.

Extra warnings: homophobia, pedophilia (nothing actually happens), David creepiness.

**********************

You were stuck in the house on a rainy day, helping Lisa with the cookies for dinner tonight. Your head was swirling, memories of the last several nights making your thighs clench. You hadn’t seen Angela since the night you and her fucked 3 day ago, the heavy rain making the menial store runs not worth it for now. Couldn’t risk getting sick in case you were pregnant, now could you?

Would things change between you? Did this mean you were gay? You had no idea, you needed to see her, she was the only person you could trust with this. Joel hadn’t changed, continuing to fuck you last night, while the night before he taught Ellie. Ellie came before any for him.

She was upstairs right now with Riley and that made you even more nervous. You knew what they were doing, they weren’t subtle one bit. Ellie had no sense of self preservation, it seems. You decided to go upstairs to check on her, but quickly turned away when you heard the sound of kissing. Shit. They were loud. You didn’t want to interrupt them, feeling flustered and embarrassed by overhearing so you dash downstairs to try and see where Gina was, to make sure she wasn’t coming upstairs. It was there you saw Gina welcoming Bedford inside.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“You can fetch Elizabeth from her room, Commander Bedford.” Gina spoke. “She’s up there with Mrs. Jones. They are such close friends, I do hope they can see each other often when she’s married.”

“Of course, Mrs. Miller. It’s so important for the wives to have close friendship to grow closer to god with each other and lean on those hard times.”

You needed to get to Ellie. You neede to warm her before she’s caught; you doubted even Joel could keep her and Riley off the wall.

“I can go get her, Mrs. Miller” You offer and move towards Ellie’s, room, but Gina catches your arm. 

She narrows her eyes at you. “No, I think Commander Bedford has it, thank you OfJoel.”

You try to push past. “Really, it’s no-”

But you were shoved away, into the hall, her grip still firm on you, and nodding David Bedford away to the girls room.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Mrs. Miller, you need to let me go, you need to stop him.” You’re getting more frantic, trying to get out of her grip but her fingernails dug into your skin painfully. “Ellie, she-”

Gina’s face was sudden close to yours. “I know what her and Riley are doing, you little harlot, I’m getting her out of my face so she can stop embaressing me.”

She was trying to get Ellie and Riley killed? 

“ELLIE!” You start to scream but Gina worked fast, shoving you out the door and locking it.

You didn’t think to much on what you did next. You were never getting out of Gilead alive, you were never going to see your son again. You didn’t even know if this would do anything… but Joel was gone, and only one person could help. Taking off, you run next door, not stopping to knock. “COMMANDER MILLER! COMMANDER MILLER!” You ony had the slightest sense to think he call him commander miller instead of Tommy.

Angela appeared around the corner, green eyes wide and wild. “OfJoel, what are you-”

“I need Tommy, emergency!”

Hearing his name, Tommy runs down the stairs. “What the hell is happening!”

“Gina brought Commander Bedford to the house” You grab him and start pulling him out the house as you explain, there was no time to waste. “She’s there with Riley, they’re kissing, I- I don’t know what else, but Gina, she said she was trynng to get Ellie caught!”

Tommy ran past you. “Fucking bitch! Angela, stay here-”

“No fucking way!”

But Tommy shot her a look. Never have you seen Angela fold for a man, and certainly not Tommy. She liked Tommy, but you didn’t take orders from men you pegged. Angela as told to get to his office and call Joel

You tell Tommy the door is locked, but he has a spare key and gets inside. You hear shouting upstairs and Tommy’s long legs are taking the steps three at a time to get to his niece but you lag behind, slowed in your stupid shoes.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THEM!”

*

Everyone was in the parlor. 

A very terrified and wide eyed Ellie standing opposite of an equally scared Riley. Tommy stood by his niece and you, shouting at Gina. Commander Bedford stayed quiet, but his eyes were alert, carefully watching everyting and everyone. Luke and Lesa even lurked in the shadows, listening in.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!” Joel’s booming voice broke into the house, dorm slamming shut with such a force, pictures shook on the walls.

“Dad!” Ellie ran across the rooms, passing David and Gina fearlessly now that her father was in the room. Joel took her quickly into a protective hug, turning her body away from the household, his broad width keeping her from view. “Are you okay, baby girl?”

She nodded. “Dad, I fucked up, I fucked up so bad-”

“Shhh, Ellie, it’s okay…” He stroked her hair that had fallen out, tucking it behind her ears. “I’m gonna protect you.” With Ellie trailing behind him, he grabbed Riley as well, pulling her away from Bedford. He knew exactly what Bedford was, and would not allow him near either girl. He locked eyes with Tommy.

Gina spoke first. “This is your fault, allowing her to just do whatever she wants, she’s spoiled-”

“Hush, woman! Will someone explain to me what happened.”

Finally, David spoke. “It seems I caught Miss Miller and Mrs. Jones in a rather… compromising position.”

Joel stood tall and powerful in front of the two teens. “I certainly don’t know to what you’re implying, Bedford, but I suggest you tread lightly, here.”

David stepped forward, and eerie calm in his voice and soft smile on his face. “Commander Miller, I assure I want this all sorted out as well but the fact of the matter is I saw Miss Miller and Mrs. Jones kissing. Not only is this gender betrayal, but it’s an affair for Mrs. Jones, an affair in which Miss Miller is complicit. This can get both of them killed or sent to the colonies.” The colonies were basically a death sentence. 

“Neither of them” He spoke firmly, sure. “Are going to the wall or the colonies, Bedford. They are just kids.” When this didn’t work, he softened his tone to the negotiator. “C’mon, David. You were a teacher, you know these are just kids, they do stupid shit.”

He shakes his head. “Actions need to have consequences, Joel, you know this. Back then, we allowed this sort of thing to run rampant and we were punished by God, taking away our children.”

“Bullshit!” Tommy barked across the room. “If God was punishing us for anything, it’s for sicko’s like you touching little kids!” With long strides, Tommy walked over shouting at Bedford, but Joel put up a hand to stop him. He needed to negotiate.

“What do you want, David?”

He sighed, holding both his hands behind his back. “I think young Elizabeth’s problem-”

Joel’s face shifted into a warning glower. “Do not talk about my daughter-”

“Is that she is at marriage age, needs a husband to set her on the right path.”

Tommy scoffed. “And that man is you?”

“Yes, I think so. She’s a strong willed woman, could be a leader among the wives if she’s set on the right path. The bible does, in fact, teach in favour of strong women, despite what our enemies say.”

From behind Joel, Ellie steps out, brave now that she has two protectors. “Yeah? Like who?” She challenged, Joel trying to hush her but sighing. He knew he couldn’t.

But David was not phased. “Judith, Ruth, Esther, Mary Magdalen. You would know that if you paid attention to theology class instead of staring at my niece.”

“I would know that if you let me read the damn bible!” She took a few short step towards David as she screamed at him, the room erupting in commotion

“Ellie!” Gina shouted and began to stride toward her daughter she clearly held so much contempt for, but Tommy gripped her arm yanking her back, growling to stay growing at her to ‘stay the hell away’ from Ellie.

Joel’s eyes widened; swearing was being added to her list of offenses today, and ‘damn bible’ made it worse, as did an expression of desire to read. She was digging herself deeper. Riley tried to cull Ellie back in, but the only thing that stopped her was Joel’s strong arm around her pulling her back in. The only person remaining calm was David.

“Allow me to marry Elizabeth, and I’ll make sure she fulfills her potential.”

Joel watched for a long time, planning his next move. He’d always been so in control, so sure of himself and the future… He hadn’t felt this lost since Sarah died. It was then he noticed you. WHen you and Joel locked eyes, you knew there was nothing he could do. He was accepting his fate.

“And you won’t tell a soul about her?”

“Dad, no!”

“No one outside of this room.”

“And Riley, you won’t tell Commander Jones?”

“Joel, man, what are you doing?”

“They’ll remain safe, you have my word.”

Joel took a deep breath. “Fine, you may inform the counsel of the betrothal, now get the fuck out of my home.”

Chaos shattered like glass, confusing everyone in the room as Bedford left the house.

“Dad! What the hell! What is wrong with you!” Ellie berated her dad. Gina tried to tell her to shut up, but Joel snapped and turned to his wife, eyes cold and sharp. 

“You! I know you did this shit Gina. You’ll fucking pay for this, I’ll have your fucking head on a pike!”

Gina was undeterred. “She had to get married at some point-”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!”

When Gina left, he called for Luke, asking him to escort Ellie and Riley to the car, he was taking Riley home.

Ellie was furious. “How could you do this! How could you abandon me like everyone else!”

“Ellie.” Joel turned to her, placing two hands on her shoulders. “I promise you, I’m not letting that man touch you.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Not even you can stop this, Joel.” Ellie took Riley’s hand and followed behind Luke to the car. Only you, Tommy and him were left. Joel turned to you.

“Thank you, for getting Tommy. I’ll… I’ll make sure you don’t get any backlash from Gina… you tell me if she does anything to yuh.” To Tommy now. “I’m coming over after I make sure Riley gets home safe, okay? We’re gonna figure this out.”

The worry in Tommy’s eyes said he wasn’t sure there was a way out at all.

********************

Im sorry this is taking 5 ever to write ;-;

I hope y'll still like it. I still care about this story and eeing it through <3

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dins-riduur-anthe @morallyinept @fan-fiction-floozy @med494 @taliarose12 @flvrdoll @k-ra @sam-2me @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @moriartyyouwhore @hereforthepedrofanfic @alwaysmicado @noisynightmarepoetry @kyloispunk @jenna-ortega @lunitareads @labyrinthofheartagrams @swimmjacket @theywhowriteandknowthings @everyth1ngfan @movievillainess721 @syrupstuff @christinamadsen @darlingshame @genetics4life @stevngrant @crazysouthernlady @joeldjarin @gwendibleywrites @ladynightengale @justagalwhowrites @pedge-page @magpiepills @zliteraturehoe @lover-of-books-and-tea

[drowninginthoughts27]

Due to popular demand (@siriusblackfamilytrauma @certifiedl0verboy and @sixlane told me to) here are some bartylily headcanons cause I’ve been obsessing over these two recently

Sry this is A LOT and it’s all toxic bartylily which I mentioned before but I mostly came about cause I of all the people saying that fic writers shouldn’t write toxic/bad relationships so my brain automatically went to what’s the worst a relationship could be!!!

- the first vibe I thought of is just the after movies tbh like this complete rule follower girl falling for this really tatted up bad boy who’s only getting through uni cause his dad runs the place just straight up preppy x bad boy wattpad vibes yk

- barty kinda wants to change Lily for what he thinks is the better and get her more into his crowd

- lilys friends and family don’t approve of barty cause he’s an absolute asshole to anyone who isn’t Lily

- the bar is so fucking low in this relationship for both of them my god

- the other vibe is a very similar only Lily is already a bit fucked up yk

- they would probs meet at some club cause their friends introduced them

- they both have a shit ton of tattoos especially cause barty is a tattoo artist and why not (never ever get tattoos with other people it’s just a bad idea)

- they both come from money and are just bored little rich kids running around completely ignorant of reality and consequences

- they’re almost always drunk or high or both when together

- they wanna be super casual but they just can’t cause they’re both so god damn possessive

- either way their undeniably toxic and in no way meant to be end game (tho they might be but it’s just not a happily ever after and Lily picks her self up gets a divorce and ends up with Pandora or smth later on cause I said so)

- and they both 100% have daddy issues (or just family issues in general but barty is a mommas boy at heart)

- for Lily it’s never a point of changing barty or like a savior complex or anything

- they are constantly breaking up and getting back together and getting into more fights and having the best makeup sex and fighting more and crying and fighting well having sex and it’s violent and messy and just straight up terrible

- they are THE couple even though they are awful for each other cause they just always look cute in public and on the outside they seem like they have it all together even though everyone knows they most definitely don’t

Ok that’s all for now but I might come back to ramble more later :)

[mercurytrinemoon]

Let's talk about sex, Venus and Mars

As Venus and Mars are separating from a conjunction, let's remind everyone that Venus stands for romance, pleasures, seduction and sex, while Mars... not necessarily.

And that's all that should be said, period, but if you want receipts, then read along.

Venus and Mars traditionally

Taking it back to tradition, Vettius Valens (2nd CE) assigns Venus to desire and erotic love as well as "the parts of intercourse" (which was also translated to "the union of the sexual organs"). He linked Mars to intercourse, adultery and all forms of violent behaviours, including those specifically targeting women. He also states that Mars rules genitals.

Abu Ma'Shar (9th CE) desribed Venus as "a multitude of sexual intercourse of diverse kinds" as well as "the sons of fornication". I think the line "she rejoices with every thing and seeks every thing and is eager for it" is also crucial here as it outlines Venus as passionate and excited - traits, which currently would be linked with Mars. And when it comes to the malefic, Ma'Shar assigns it to adultery and "foulness of sexual intercourse". So with both scholars we do have some association between Mars and sex but mostly in a negative malefic sense.

Contemporary astrologers, who aren't necessarily following strictly modern astrology still agree with this notion. Richard Tarnas in his research gives a similar affiliation:

"Venus: the principle of desire, love, (…); the impulse and capacity to attract and be attracted, to love and be loved, (…) sensous pleasure."

His Mars delineation highlights the forceful motion of the planet: "the principle of energetic force, harm, violence".

Traditional scholars seen Mars as either purely malefic or one that had to exhibit bravery and assertiveness when under attact. That harsh nature expressed itself in all kinds of acts of violence and not as the give and take. Mars is cutting, severing, disputes and disruption after all. It's filthy. In modern astrology it's most commonly linked with anger. And you guys want to put sex next to all of that? Yikes.

Venus, on the other hand, is all responsible for senses, pleasure, romance and bodily matters. This is why it rejoices in the 5th house of pleasure, procreation and sex.

Mythology and gods

If we go back to the myth of Inanna, the Sumerian preceder of Venus, she was associated with sex and fertility and when captive in the underworld, people would be made not to procreate. Then in the later millenia, the planet now known as Venus was named after and associated with her Greek counterpart Aphrodite, who was linked with love, lust, pleasure, passion, procreation, desire, sex and fertility. Venus, as her Roman version, ruled over the same things (Romans copied Greeks with their mythology pretty much word-for-word; Aphrodite was first and then Romans came up with the name Venus).

For comparison, both Mars and Ares are seen as the gods of war with the latter one having purely destructive and destabilizing nature (Mars seemed to be more into stability but still military-focused).

You can argue that Mars as a planet symbolizes how we pursue and posess and what our energy levels are, which can extend to libido. So loosely, yes, in that sense as a secondary association, we can include Mars as well in certain contexts. I can see how Mars can rule intercourse in itself as it connects to blood flow and a form of exertion. BUT it's always been Venus in the first place on how we seduce, how we romance, what we find hot and what our erotic nature is. Making love is her forte, no matter if fuzzy feelings are present or not.

Taking that into consideration, I'd still give Mars like 5% of importance here. To quote Meredith Froemke, it's like a multilayer cake, meaning all of your chart will have some say in the topic (just like with everything else). And as yin and yang, Venus and Mars will compliment each other, just because they naturally balance things out in all matters. And as the myth said, Venus and Mars found themselves in a fiery hot affair while the goddess was married to Vulcan. So hot everyone was talking about it.

Modern times

Symbolically, currently Mars is linked with sex and has been for a while now and it is probably thanks to the masculinisation of pleasure and how the importance of men's sexual experience somehow outweighted woman's in the society's eyes. In astrology, it's hard for me to find and pinpoint exactly who was the first one to assign sex directly to Mars, at the same time depriving Venus of that role.

According to Alan Leo (18th-19th CE), who was the precursor of modern astrology, "the symbol of Mars will therefore represent to us Desire, Force and Energy." This sums up its energy in a cohesive way - Mars seizes and is willing to take the necessary steps to achieve the goal in a rather selfish manner. You can connect this with every aspect of life basically, sex included, but it is still yet not highlighted as purely that. He also compared both planets:

"In contradistinction to Mars, who is the planet of discord, typifying the animal, Venus represents the human soul, and until we feel the sweet influence of Venus in our lives, we shall go on seeking fresh experience upon the cross of life. Venus is love, while Mars is passion; Venus peace, Mars strife. (…) These two planets in themselves are helpful to the other."

Stephen Arroyo, a modern psychological astrologer, made the gender-based distinguishment (which wasn't present in older texts) but seemed to take a somewhat middle ground at the same time when it comes to the topic:

"Venus represents an inflow and outflow of energy and its placement in the various elements is expressed as the give and take of love, affection and sensual pleasure with others. (…) Venus shows how a woman receives and gives of herself in love and sex. Usually more of a sexual indicator for women than it is for men. (…) Venus is also related to a man's ideals about love, sex and relationships, however, Mars is much more a symbol of sexual energy in men. In women, though, Venus and Mars energies are both important components of the sexual nature, and they combine and are usually more inseparable than is the case in most men."

When speaking of Mars, he quickly mentions: "For a man, Mars shows how he projects himself forcefully, assertively and sexually. It indicates how he gives of his power in a sexual relationship".

So judging by what I've gathered, I'm guessing things started shifting with the rise of psychological astrology and the more "energetical" approach rather than archetypal. That meant with women everything is filtered through Venus and with men, with Mars. It further translated into "well a man has the upper hand and has to express his *cough*toxic*cough* masculinity during the act and be macho, so oBviOuSly it has to be linked with a masculine forceful and assertive Mars duhhh" and therefore "Venus=woman=submissive=not into sex=only into affection" bullshit that I don't dig.

Up to that point, and certainly in traditional and medieval texts, it was consistent to directly relate Venus to all the things I've listed in the beginning, while Mars to severing, aggression and conquer and if linked to sexual matters, it is not viewed in a positive light as it is the planet of violation and acts that would be looked down on. And we should stick to that.

Sources: "Hellenistic Astrology. The study of fate and fortune" Chris Brennan "The Great Introduction to the Science of the Judgments of the Stars" Abu Ma'Shar "Cosmos and psyche. Intimations of a new world view" Richard Tarnas "Astrology for all" Alan Leo "Chart interpretation handbook. Guidelines for understanding the essentials of the birth chart" Stephen Arroyo

[laurelindebear]

How is it that humans have such endless capacity for hatred, conflict, and war?

I'm not even talking about Ukraine or Israel/Palestine or Syria or Armenia or whatever the fuck. I'm talking about all of us.

When I was 19 and I had my first boyfriend I thought all the stupid rules around dating and courtship and all that would be gone in my lifetime. Why wouldn't more women ask out men (or other women)? Nothing wrong with it; I have done it myself. Why wouldn't everyone pay their own way on dates? Why would people assume the man would pay for everything or the woman would 'owe him' later? Everyone works now, so why not split it? If we want equality, why not act like it?

But clearly, I was fuckin' stupid, because it's not over. It's not even better - it's worse. Nobody talks to anyone. There's a loneliness epidemic (the discourse of which is focused on men, because men still aren't socialised to make friends or practice emotional intimacy with anyone but sexual partners or even recognise feelings, apparently, but it's not like it's peachy for women looking for relationships either). Patriarchy and toxic masculinity and toxic femininity are still killing everyone and now they have living embodiments all over everyone's life via the algorithms, all the time, telling women and girls they are subhuman garbage to be victimised and subservient and boys and men that women are their enemy to be destroyed, and that they need to be angry and violent to society.

Do you have any idea how fucking tired I am? Why the fuck do we 'need' a War of the Sexes? Why the fuck have we EVER needed it? (Not 'why did/do we need feminism.') Why the fuck are we supposed to be mortal enemies, trapped in endless battle, cursed to never understand or trust each other? WE'RE ALL JUST PEOPLE. It shouldn't be this hard.

And it's everything, everywhere, all the time. 'Hurhur Americans are stupid because they microwave water.' 'Ugh Europeans are rude and joyless and don't trust compliments.' 'Australians are -' 'Trans people are trying to destroy -' 'Queer people are so - ' 'Muslims need to -' 'Jews should -' 'Boomers are -' 'Millennials are-' 'Zoomers are-' 'Breeders' 'Childless people' 'Westerners' 'Atheists' 'Cishets' 'Leftists' 'Fascists' 'Tankies' 'Liberals' 'Anti' 'Pro'. Every person and every word must be taken in the worst possible light. Malice isn't just assumed, it's mandated. Everyone is responsible for countless sins: their own, their parents', their friends', and those of everyone they might share any kind of group or link with, living, dead, or yet to be born. Everything is a fight, always, forever, and if you're not fighting and hating and categorising and labelling and shunning, you're part of the problem.

I know cultural relativism has limits, and I know all things aren't equal, I'm not stupid, but come the fuck on.

The whole world is hurtling straight into an age of fascism and authoritarianism and autocracy. I'm at the point where I think the 'Great Experiment' (not of the USA, but of representative democracy and pluralism and tolerant societies all together) was always doomed. We'll never get past that wretched, pathetic need to name an 'other' that is our enemy to convince ourselves we're better, we're worthy, we're good. Not like them. And that will always lead to insular thinking and to actual war. We'll never outgrow might makes right. At least two of the major world deities rely on it as their source of authority, FFS.

Do people not get it yet? Your purity and your precious little groups are all a fucking lie. EXISTENCE IS HARM, EXISTENCE IS COMPLICITY IN EVERYTHING THAT HAS COME BEFORE US, THERE IS NO ERASING ANY OF IT. EVERY PHILOSOPHY AND EVERY SOLUTION TO EVERY PROBLEM HAS DRAWBACKS AND MORAL COMPROMISES. THAT'S JUST LIFE. WE ARE NOT PURE AND WE NEVER WILL BE. JUST FUCKING COEXIST WITH PEOPLE EVEN IF YOU THINK THEY SUCK. WE ALL SUCK.

I love and treasure individual persons. People as a whole, I like about as much as I like mosquitoes.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

All roads lead to patriarchy.

Male advantage? It’s the patriarchy. Female advantage? The patriarchy “backfired”. Violent men? Patriarchy. Violent women? Patriarchy (made her do it). Women without rights? Patriarchy. Men without rights? Patriarchy.

Everything wrong, for everyone, everywhere, for all of time; it’s the same simple one-word answer – and it’s ‘patriarchy’.

The big P.

It’s the perfect, singular and absolute truth, so disengage brain, and don’t ask any questions.

And people *don’t* ask questions.

Most just accept the concept as settled truth, with any challenge to such ‘truth’ all too often resulting in childish whines of ‘misogyny’.

So time rolls on.

Sixty years slip by and the theory refuses to be scrutinised or questioned.

Meanwhile the inconvenient facts that discredit such a world view are twisted through Olympian-level displays of mental gymnastics, contortions of logic, and semantic spluttering of: ‘well, the patriarchy must have backfired!’

I can’t imagine such a “backfiring” concession means much to the homeless, drug addicted, incarcerated, or suicidal populations – all overwhelmingly male. As such a theory provides little nuance or sympathy toward the impossibility complex causes of each.

It needn’t matter anyway.

The supervillain to all of the world’s problems continues to be “smashed” for eternity; as radical feminists stamp their feet and shake their fist at the clouds, as the money rolls in.

So when is it smashed?

If it hurts men too, then why does nobody “smash” those parts?

And if ‘the patriarchy’ is so powerful, why is it always “backfiring”?

So many unanswered questions, so many awkward caveats, blindspots, and cracks through which vulnerable men and boy fall.

So when does it end?

When do we ask for better answers?

-

Sources:

Homeless deaths: https://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/birthsdeathsandmarriages/deaths/bulletins/deathsofhomelesspeopleinenglandandwales/2021registrations

Incarcerated Population: https://data.justice.gov.uk/justice-in-numbers/jin-public-protection

Workplace deaths: https://www.bls.gov/news.release/pdf/cfoi.pdf

Suicide by sex: https://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/birthsdeathsandmarriages/deaths/bulletins/suicidesintheunitedkingdom/2022registrations

Drug deaths by sex: https://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/birthsdeathsandmarriages/deaths/bulletins/deathsrelatedtodrugpoisoninginenglandandwales/2022registrations#:~:text=The%20rate%20of%20death%20relating,per%20million%20(949%20deaths)

Homicide by sex: https://www.unodc.org/documents/data-and-analysis/gsh/2023/GSH23_Chapter_2.pdf

Education over time: https://www.aporiamagazine.com/p/my-favourite-parts-from-the-boy-crisis

==

Smells like "god" to me. The devout insist that their god answers their prayers. Except, they don't actually do any better in life than the non-devout, or the devout of other gods. Xians die of diseases at the same rate, they don't win lotteries any more often, they aren't more successful in business. You should be able to tell who the "true" god is by the results. Except you can't.

Their prayers are either answered, or responded by "not yet," or "something better." Except you never know until after the fact. We're simply informed that god works in "mysterious ways." Aside from contradicting the notion that you can know god is there or answering your prayers at all, this makes the entire proposition unfalsifiable.

Importantly, how do you tell the difference between god being "mysterious" and "not there at all"?

"The Patriarchy" is exactly the same. If it's that unreliable, that unpredictable, how can you claim to know it's there at all? "Patriarchy hurts men too," is just "god is testing you." It's an excuse for why the thing that always works isn't.

Believers point to the fact their house survived the tornado as proof that god is good and answers their prayers. Never mind that the rest of the town was flattened. Or that they're thanking the same god who sent the tornado in the first place. For every male CEO or president, there's hundreds of homeless, suicidal or workplace dying men. People who believe based on faith only pay attention to the "hits," not the "misses." And even the "misses" somehow get turned into "hits."

There's no difference here. These are exactly the same concept, and they're exactly as nonsensical, unfalsifiable and not validatable, even in principle (and fail testing that we do attempt). So how either ever came to prominence, much less regarded as factually true, is incomprehensible.

In both cases, the result seems to be nothing more than desperate confirmation bias-motivated post-hoc attempts to salvage a simplistic, ideologically-based answer that doesn't even mirror reality.

Especially when we have more plausible answers that are taken from actually observing and testing reality. Which neither ideology does, and actively deny the need to.

"Patriarchy" theory follows the same mindset and language as an abuser: if you do something wrong, it's your fault, but if I do something wrong it's because you made me do it, so it's also your fault.

[kattahj]

The next half-dozen queer Thai shows I have watched! This time around, it's not just boys' love, but also girls' love and polyamory. Also, there's a lot more action-adventure this time around, with three plot-heavy, rather violent shows! Those are the ones I like best of the bunch, btw. :) And don't worry, they still have happy(-ish) endings!

Manner of Death

What's it about? City doctor moves back to a small town and immediately gets involved in a murder mystery. Also, the prime suspect is really hot.

Genre: Crime drama

Watch if you enjoy: Plot-heavy stories with twists upon twists upon twists. Seemingly nice towns being dens of corruption and vice. (Shit gets pretty dark!) Speedrun romance – no need to wait until the end for a kiss here!

Gayer version of: Somewhere inbetween Blue Velvet and L.A. Confidential

Recommended? Yes! Just make sure you can stomach onscreen murder and offscreen rape. Truth be told, I was a little iffy on it at first, but then it ate my brain, and now it's among my favourites.

Watched on: Dailymotion

Trailer: https://youtu.be/a4b-d_XyLV0

I Told Sunset About You

What's it about? Teh and Oh-Aew are childhood friends, but their love for acting causes some friction when they're competing first for the same part, and later for the same university position.

Genre: Coming of age

Watch if you enjoy: Low-stakes drama. Heavy focus on the central pairing and its romantic complications. Genuine, emotional acting (lots and lots of crying). Characters making foolish, selfish decisions that nevertheless make perfect sense for them to make. Very nuanced secondary love interests.

Gayer version of: My So-Called Life

Recommended? Yes, but I actually ended up NOT wanting these two to be together.

Watched on: Dailymotion

Trailer: https://youtu.be/KIylNdQuR-w

GAP the series

What's it about? Mon idolizes Lady Sam and is thrilled to start working at her company. Her dreams are soon crushed, though, when it turns out that Sam is a cold and demanding boss. The truth is that Sam is under pressure from her grandmother to uphold the royal image.

Genre: Melodrama

Watch if you enjoy: The grumpy one loving the sunshine one. Supportive girl gangs, including a butch lesbian hottie. Tentative attempts at a first relationship. Gossip mills in action.

More lesbian version of: Starts out as The Devil Wears Prada, quickly moves into Young Royals territory.

Recommended? Kind of? It's nice to see some lesbians for once, and the leads have good chemistry. I also really like Sam's catty girl gang. The story is a bit weak at times, and I wasn't always convinced that these two were right for each other. The humour isn't my style either. So it's a bit of a mixed bag, but definitely worth the effort if you want some girl loving!

Watched on: YouTube

Trailer: https://youtu.be/f7Kso0QOaiE

Together With Me

What's it about? Best friends Korn and Knock have a drunken one night stand. Afterwards, they try to forget all about it. After all, Knock already has a girlfriend. Meanwhile, their friends have relationship troubles of their own.

Genre: comedy (mostly)

Watch if you enjoy: More MaxTul after Manner of Death (but in a vastly different genre). Lots of double entendres and also single entendres. Bitchy girlfriends and sassy girl friends. (Yiwha and Faii ftw!) An ensemble cast where everyone makes terrible decisions and no one has even heard of boundaries.

Gayer version of: Fast Times at Ridgemont High

Recommended? I would say it is highly entertaining trash. :) It takes a while to kick into gear (but no time at all before sex), but then becomes kind of addictive. Just be aware that every single person in this is some flavour of Problematic (tm).

Watched on: YouTube

Trailer: https://youtu.be/lxX9UkhTCO0

Triage

What's it about? Young doctor Tin finds himself in a time loop. In order to make it stop, he has to save the life of a specific patient. His only help is an annoyingly cryptic angel.

Genre: supernatural mystery/medical drama

Watch if you enjoy: The same writer as Manner of Death. Plot-focused show. Lots of tense medical situations, and even tenser interpersonal situations. Social issues. Assholes learning to be less assholish (except the ones who are just irredeemable). Romance that is simultaneously slowburn and speedrun, and also folds in on itself.

Gayer version of: Russian Doll

Recommended? Yes! More for the plot than the romance, though. Also, if you're anything like me, you'll need tissues for episode 10. (Knowing things will turn out okay doesn't prevent the sad stuff from being sad!)

Watched on: Dailymotion (search for Triag3)

Trailer: https://youtu.be/QeXnXV3FStg

3 Will Be Free

What's it about? Male sex worker Neo has been sleeping with the wrong woman – namely, a mob boss's wife. Now he's running for his life, along with club hostess/pickpocket Miw, who has killed a hitman by sheer instinct, and the mob boss's son Shin, who... well, he just happens to like Neo better than his dad, is all.

Genre: Action/thriller

Watch if you enjoy: Canon OT3. Nuanced trans representation on the side. Chased by the mob. Very high death count. (Don't get attached to any guest characters!) Moral greyness all around, and some sympathy even for the bad guys.

More polyam version of: ...I can't currently think of a chased-by-the-mob film that isn't a comedy, and this is very much not a comedy.

Recommended? Yes! With a warning that all the cliffhangers makes it hard to stop watching, so you may just as well pause in the middle of episodes. (Sidenote: the YouTube comments are more annoying than usual.)

Watched on: YouTube

Trailer: https://youtu.be/ct9fPlMJSDw

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

⭐Our Great Glory⭐ for the 'fanfic writer director's cut' as it is absolutely one of my favorite fics of yours!

oh my god this took me too long (to all the requests in my inbox - guys i'm trying i promise) sorry about that. that being said, here's my directors cut for our great glory:

@ilikeitbetterangsty i hope you enjoy!

first of all, since the reader is commonborn, i wanted to highlight the circumstances of that life in King's Landing, especially during Aegon II's coronation. it ended up being around 50% of the chapter, but i really enjoyed delving into that aspect of the world of asoiaf...

also, this is really long, but i enjoyed the chance to talk about my writing a bit.

okay let's get into the writing:

There was always something disgusting or disturbing in each room that you had to clean, and you felt for the whores that had to endure through these things in the first place. All you wanted was to finish your job and then go out in search for a bowl of brown.

Your cleaning was interrupted by the madam standing in the doorway.

“What is it?” you asked.

“There’s people at the door. Go take care of them, I need to look after Janei for a bit, she had a rough night.”

Okay, so starting off with something pretty rough - asoiaf doesn't have good circumstances for any woman, especially not in KL, and even though the reader isn't a sex worker, her proximity to them makes it impossible to escape that world, and the disgusting customers that come with it. i did this to kind of make the relationship betweent he reader and criston more ~complex~

Criston is literally a white knight, in shining armor. he's supposed to be a beacon of purity - something which already stands in contrast to the regular expectations towards men in the world of hotd and got. but then he drops that facade with the reader, someone who is constantly in the thick of other people's perversions. it makes their relationship even more complicated, bc he's not pure towards her, and just reinforces her expectations towards men, and yet, he really wants to be.

An older woman stood next to you, her demeanor and stance completely out of place. She walked with the other common folk as if she owned the stones she touched, but you pretended not to notice her nobility.

So, the reader is walking next to Princess Rhaenys without knowing it, but she does understand that they're in different... tax brackets ig. i kind of stole this line from game of thrones, where varys tells tyrion that everyone knows he's nobility bc he walks like he owns the ground he walks on. the reader ignores that this other person is noble for a good reason - this other woman definitely has power over her, so if the reader calls her out, she could be in deep shit. at the same time, she kind of sets the events in the dragonpit in motion. had the reader called her out, rhaenys possibly never would have made it there.

You’d barely been more than a child when Prince Daemon had pulled the criminals into the streets, watching with wide eyes as carts of heads, limbs and eyes rolled past.

I think people love to forget a) how far these events apart and b) how this was probably extremely traumatizing to a whole generation of children in Flea Bottom. Yes, the ppl living there are horrible, but a horrible place breeds horrible people. those criminals were definitely parents/siblings/caretakers/etc. it's well within the possible that the reader lost someone that day, either via execution or due to the consequences of such violent punishments. also wanted to call daemon out on being a medieval cop.

Had they brought you here to burn you all?

again, a small throwback to game of thrones + targaryen madness. this fear is, later in the fic, proven as not that unreasonable.

King Viserys was dead, and if this was a coronation, war was on the horizon.

commoners are not stupid!!!! this is what i wanted to highlight here!! why do people always portray the nobles in asoiaf as smart and commoners as stupid? girl be fr most of us would be commoners if we went back in time. but idt that the commoners witnessing aegon's coronation were ignorant to the fact that war was on the horizon. they all knew what was coming - F&B SPOILERS COMING UP!! maybe this was a part of what heated up agressions leading up to the bread riots.

OKAY SPOILERS OVER

You knew that if you stood closer to him, you would be able to see the white of his knuckles, his thumb moving over the grip of his sword impatiently.

This is a reference to rhae rhae's wedding, where mans was grabbing his sword so tightly that it's a wonder his hand didn't explode.

Immediately, people began pushing towards the exit, trying to get away from the beast. Mere meters away from you, a man thudded against a pillar, before landing on the ground motionless.

okay, so this is the typical violence we know from asoiaf. since the focus was on the commoners in the dragon pit here, i wanted to highllight that, in a situation like this a crowd panic/crushes/collapses are bound to happen. they're in an enclosed space with a dragon. i can't believe that this wasn't highlighted in hotd, even though the show itself isn't about the commoners. in general, i'm just kinda sad that their (commoners) perspective is never really highlighted/sympathized with.

“What is your name?” you asked him, still out of breath.

“Gaemon.” The boy said faintly, and you wondered briefly if you had accidentally taken a Targaryen prince with you.

of course, there won't be some random targ kid in the bottom of the dragonpit. the reader rescues this child because it's a split second decision, and the right thing to do. it's a wonder she makes it out with a child on her shoulders, but she does make it. now, if she'd accidentally taken a real targ child with her, i think the reader would have been in deep shit, even if she'd returned him to the red keep. nobility can accuse her of whatever, so gaemon being a bastard was a massive relief for her.

Turmoil was still in the air, but already, whores were flaunting their figures.

the grind never stops in the street of silk ig... jk. or well, not really. istg if i was in flea bottom, i don't think i could take it mentally. there's a constant 180 between violence and everyday business (sex work) which is also deeply connected with violence.

The boy buried his face in your leg, and you picked him up, allowing him to look away as you walked further into the establishment.

okay, here's the thing. gaemon is a child. children don't understand things like this, but instinctually, they deeply dislike surroundings that promote violence. this can be seen in surroundings with high drug consumption/extreme poverty/etc etc while still being likely to become a perpetrator of them when they grow up. and while gaemon hates the surroundings - so does the reader, so it's again instinctual from her to make such a futile attempt at protecting him from this world he's stuck in anyway.

Essie turned to you, Gaemon on her hip. “Thank you.” She said sincerely.

“Of course.”

“Take care. And thank you for saving my son again. I cannot repay you, ever. I’ll ask the madam if there’s still a job for you here. You could make as much money as a merchant’s daughter.”

“I’m only a cleaner.” You explained.

“Still, it’ll pay better than at any other place in the Street of Silk.” She promised, giving you a small hug. You nodded, patting Gaemon on the shoulder before you made to leave again.

Essie doesn't have any money, or much other means to pay the reader back. I think in Flea Bottom and KL in general, there's a mentality of each for their own, but saving someone's child - there is bound to be gratitude, and this is what Essie can offer. a better shot at this whole each for their own thing.

You almost let out a scream as you saw the hooded figure across from you, but the man had already crossed the room, hand over your mouth.

honestly this is just criston being a hoe for drama.

“I know. I’m poor, not an idiot.” You said.

this was inspired by vikings. ivar says something along the lines of 'i'm a cripple, not an idiot' - which doesn't make that much sense since his brothers know he's smart. it does make sense in this situation, i think. it's another reference of nobility looking down on commoners, despite criston being born barely above those commoners.

“Don’t run away when this doesn’t go to plan, or I’ll gut you like my mother did to my father.” You threatened. He nodded, grabbing your hand in his own and pulling you after him.

okay, this is brutal. it's a brutal thing to do to your partner/husband. i didn't flesh out a clear backstory for the reader, but i did want to include this. it may or may not be true, but it's a desperate attempt to appear strong. that she's a person that can stand on her own two feet. if it is true, her mother prolly killed her father while he was drunk/intoxicated in some other way. realistically, the reader wouldn't stand a chance in a fight with criston, and she knows that.

“I love this side of you. I’ve never seen it, and I want more of it.” You replied.

this is another reference to just that. she doesn't quite love criston yet. he's been unkind to her. it's not a simple relationship, but she can see that there's a possibility of happiness. so, instead of lying to ser criston and saying i love you, she chooses that route.

You won’t believe how cheap everything here is.

this is just bc criston hasn't been to a grocery store in like. ten years.

“This is a manse, not a house.” You laughed, staring at the garden that bloomed around you. Terracotta tiles lined the path in front of you, leading to the house that was apparently yours.

the house is deeply inspired by mediterranean, and especially, italian houses. i'm not sure what they're called, but it's those houses in the countryside that my family would go to for the holidays. the time i spent in those houses was always some of the happiests weeks in my life. i guess it's also an ode to italy and spain, and the experiences i've made there. ofc, i've only ever been on holiday, but in general, people are more friendly and welcoming than in my homecountry germany, and many big cities in southeast asia, where i grew up in. not to mention the absolutely mouthwatering cuisine. ig that's what i wanted for the reader. she's been through enough lol.

“You will. Leaving that place saved you.”

with that place, the reader means the red keep specifically. no one there is happy. sansa is obviously not okay due to the abuse she had to endure. jaime connects most of his trauma to the red keep. cersei sits in the red keep, dreaming of home, of casterly rock (this is in the books, mostly). and why shouldn't they? literally not one character enjoys living there. same thing goes for hotd. rhaenyra leaves it due to rumors catching up to her, and the constant harassment about her sons. alicent's life is just... pretty shit. it's also due to the red keep. had she stayed in oldtown, she never would have been forced to marry viserys, abandoned by her own father and surrounded by people that were out to get something from her. daeron, who is literally alicent's only somewhat normal child, is also the only one that grew up outside the red keep. viserys is killed by living in the red keep and sitting on the iron throne (not that i have much sympathy for him).

now, there's this theme in asoiaf with the corruption through power, and how the iron throne embodies that, but i think that that also extends to the characters in the red keep. either, they're victims of people that seek power (helaena, sansa, tommen, etc) or, they're people made miserable BECAUSE they seek that power (cersei, daemon, kevan, etc).

okay that was A LOT. but yeah, these were kind of my thoughts on the fic and the lines behind it. i hope you enjoyed :)))

[joshisurcrush]

'The Host' by Stephanie Meyer

🌑

Dawg I'm gonna be really honest, I hated the novel for the first 200 pages. It was so edgy for no reason, the author was so mysterious and cryptic with it, but not in an appealing way; more in an edgy 13-year-old's angst fanfiction. I read this book because it was literally the only English book left in the school library that I hadn't read yet, and I didn't want to sit around bored at break. I'm gonna cover a lot of stuff in the book, that isn't mentioned on the cover or in most reviews, so here's a fat spoiler warning, since I'll be discussing things even more thoroughly than I would in other reviews.

First off, I wanna make it very clear to fellow aromantic individuals that this book is going to be either a) very funny, b) a case study, or c) hard to read. For me it was all three of those things. See, Stephenie Meyer, author of The Host, also wrote "Twilight" which y'all may have heard of. I saw "written by Stephenie Meyer, author of the *twilight saga*" on the cover of the book and gagged. Well, she's good at what she does, I'm gonna say, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I like it. Some parts of the book just had me frowning at the words on the page, the parts where one of the two main characters makes out with her partner (Melanie and Jared), for example. That part had me sitting in my chair thinking "Are people actually like this?" and "What the fu(dge), this is so cheesy." Right? But then there were other parts, (Wanda and Ian), where I found the romantic moments cute/funny. I think it’s mainly because the Wanda-Ian bond is more of the lighthearted cutesy friends-to-lovers bond, and not the “rah hot sexy ownership mmm sex” bond the way that Melanie and Jarend’s is written.

I digress, well, I think I should get to explaining. I'm not going to explain exactly why everything happens, but I'm going to list facts that you just have to believe me. Wanda is an alien parasite in Melanie's body, who controls Melanie's body entirely, but they're friends and can hear each other's thoughts. Jared is in love with Melanie, Jeb is Melanie's uncle and owns a secret underground base where most of the story takes place, and Jamie is Melanie's little (teenage) brother. Then there's super-sexy Ian who's in love with Wanda (the parasite) and somewhat-sexy Kyle, twin brother of Ian, who happens to be really violent and tried to kill Wanda (in Melanie's body) twice. Oh, and there's Doc, the kind surgeon. There's other characters but I don't think they'll be all that relevant to my review. 

Well, I like Wanda, the main character. Ironically, it's in her parasite species' nature to attempt to please everyone, be nice and always keep everyone's best interest in mind, even at her own expense. Also, unrelated, but this is one of the stories with female characters that I thoroughly enjoy. As a guy I prefer stories with strong male leads, it's just my personal preference, and stories with female leads tend to feel flat and weak, or "forced-strong", or stereotypical in some way. Mosquitoland had a good female lead, along with Falling Into Place, and The Host. These are some good female leads/characters that I can thoroughly enjoy because there's inner conflict, backstory dimension and history, more than just a single objective or focus (a lot of love-stories tend to make the female character into this caricature of what a girl is, and I hate it because women have vivid internal lives and a boiled-down simplification simply doesn’t do it justice imo). Back to Wanda, though. 

She becomes more and more human throughout the book (which is supposed to be like, a big thing. I bet Meyer was proud of that one.) It's underlined as the story goes on; Wanda compares herself and her emotions to the human ones and talks about how Earth is so unique and different from the other planets she's lived on, etc. You definitely feel an interesting but slight shift in her narration as the novel progresses, evolving with the number of connections she makes with the people around her. 

Also, I like how Stephenie Meyer managed to separate Mel and Wanda from each other so distinctly. You get a feeling for how different the two of them are from each other, and how they each have their own principles and ideas, and they're like night and day, even though their actions are the same throughout the story. Talking about characters also, I like the way that all characters a) serve a purpose/role, and b) they're fleshed out well enough for me and c) they're not all written the same way, which is a fat pet peeve of mine. I hate when a story has three sarcastic characters, four strong men, and three quirky girls. They're all characterized differently, which makes Stephanie Meyer better at writing than whoever was behind the new arrangement of Marvel movies. Do not crucify me in the notes for having said that, I’ll get very sad. 

LMAO Imagine being a Marvel superfan and trying to read a normal thriller or something, I feel like a Marvel superfan would gasp and flail on the floor like a fish on land if the murderer doesn’t go “erm.. Well that just happened 🤓” after brutally snuffing the lives out of his victim(s).

Plus, the story had the first good love triangle (tm) consisting of one body shared by Mel and Wanda, Jared and Ian. And the thing that makes it interesting to me is the fact that it's two couples (Wanda + Ian, and Jared + Melanie) who sort of have to work around the fact that both of the girls share the same body, which leads to jealousy between the two guys and Melanie and things like that. I found it interesting, it's so much better than the usual, and wildly annoying trope of "who will they pick! woo! two choices!" type of love triangle that I couldn't give two sharts about. 

The one thing, though, that bumps this story up to its rating, from a six, is the ending. The ending is genuinely the happiest ending I've ever read. Nobody dies. Everyone wins. Everyone is happy and complete; nobody is left alone or heartbroken, and it ends on a good note (since this book doesn't and will not have a sequel.) It just wraps everything up really nicely, it actually had me grinning and screaming "Good for them!" internally. It's the best ending to a book I've gotten to read in a really, really long time.

[writingsofwesteros]

Daemon with someone just as psychotic and crazy as him…

Yes.

They really do love each other, so much they’re each others worlds but to say they don’t have full blown fist fights once every few months and love an argument as the makeup sex is amazing would be a lie. They always make up, literally that very same day, they never go to bed angry, just covered in marks and blood from the knives they used during sex.

They have each others initials carved into their skin for gods sake, not lightly either. She has a ‘D.T’ right between her tits right at the top of her cleavage, he loves it, he’s always getting her revealing dresses to wear just to show it off. He has her initials over his heart again so she could get him shirts that show his chest off and because she’s his heart why would it go anywhere else? If a lady or a Lord looks at the other a certain way they like claiming each other in front of them, it’s basically porn, it’s a sex show in the middle of a feast, people are confused as to why they don’t have at least 16 children by now.

Drinking competitions and the loser has to be a their sex slave for a day. Knives at each others throats when ones pissed off, goblets and plates being thrown about when one’s being annoying, Daemon has had an entire bowl of mashed potatoes thrown at him, she’s had an entire pie hit her and stain her new dress he bought her, she climbed over that table to put her hands around his throat, he twisted that he enjoyed it and instead took her to their room, everyone at the table didn’t know what to do, laugh, cry, cover their eyes??? Who knows. Viserys is sick of their shit, it’s like looking after toddlers, very violent toddlers who like to throw point things. He loves them together as they truly care and cherish the other but god does he hate them together and wish they’d leave.

One thing they’ll never do is cheat, that’s a no go, as soon as that happens one of them are dying, they couldn’t do that anyway it’s just physically impossible to do that to the other. They’ll share partners but both have to agree on it, they’ve had men and women in their bed together but it happens like twice a year as the other gets too jealous their attention isn’t on them. They’re a mess, but they wouldn’t have it any other way, it’d be boring if it was.

!!!!

COULD YOU IMAGINE!! They are so messy and i'm here for it !

[castysandthedeep]

This concept has been eating through my brain like acid: life series Joel and Grian having insane bloody feral sex when they team as red lives, and then awkwardly mostly avoiding each other on green and yellow (I forget what fic said this but there’s a Joel-centric fic that described it as “that green life clarity” that I thought was so funny).

I’m thinking either primal top Joel x brat Grian or some kind of stricter gleeful dominant Grian with a still feral submissive Joel who’s doing his best to obey. I love your Grian from insatiable who’s theoretically a brat until he brats too hard by accident and ends up punting his partner into subspace. And then he’s a dom. Oops. And I love your Grian from lovegame who’s ever so frightening and everyone is TERRIFIED of him going red.

Also Joel like a tamed wolf etc… going insanely feral as a red life and being desperately, devastatingly loyal to whatever teammates he can scrounge up vs Grian who sees his allies as necessary sources of power and leverage but also as ultimately temporary, who is fully ready to strategically abandon his teammates as soon as it becomes advantageous to do so.

Anyways. Dynamic of: Joel being absolutely feral with bloodlust but trying so hard not to kill Grian and be the best teammate he can so that Grian doesn’t abandon him VS Grian who knows logically that he should drop Joel as soon as it becomes too costly to keep him as a teammate but who keeps instinctually protecting him + accidentally getting too fond of him anyways. Because one-sided devotion my beloved.

Sorry for the long and clinically insane ask. Just wanted to let you know. All my love!

this ask could not have found me at a better time. i'm in exactly the right mood to talk about insane red-life sex. (little sidenote, lovegame chapter 5 is about to drop very, very soon!)

i've written joel/grian before, both in a published fic where grian was afk and an unpublished fic i actually forgot existed until this very moment, but both of those fics were set in limited life, and this kind of dynamic feels straight out of last life to me. if i were going to write this (and i'm actually quite tempted, but i won't make any promises as my WIP pile is ridiculous right now), i'd definitely want to set it in last life. joel killing grian because he's lonely and desperate for a friend? the two of them wreaking havoc on the server together? it's perfect.

also, to me, the version of grian that's actually cold enough to hold joel at arm's length could only exist in last life. in every other season, it's clear that grian thinks he's the type of person to prioritize his own personal victory over taking care of his team, but he keeps getting emotionally attached anyway. he may pretend otherwise, but he always reveals his hand in moments of panic. i can see him overcompensating in last life and stringing joel along with the promise of companionship, putting off any actual vulnerability until it's too late... okay, i'm definitely doing a last life rewatch now.

as for the dynamic between them, i have a heavy personal bias toward dombottom grian as well as an undying fondness for joel getting his shit wrecked (and loving every second of it). that being said, i don't think joel would take it lying down. if he were on green or yellow i'd just call him a brat, but we're talking about red joel at his most violent and out-of-control. whether he'll actually successfully flip the script on grian remains to be seen, but the underlying possibility is always there, and grian is very uncomfortably aware of it.

so yeah, thanks for the ask! i didn't expect to get this enthusiastic about it, but i'm all in on the insanity bandwagon now. i can absolutely see myself writing this. the only real problem is that i can't see myself finishing it, because if i've got this much to say about it from the get-go, i could end up with another lovegame-sized project, and i've been incredibly busy with real-life things, so my writing progress has been moving at a snail's pace. if only i lived in a perfect world where i could sit around and write minecraft roleplay porn all day...