#recite the scripture on his ass

[royaltea000]

It I may offer yee a verse for the most recent artwork of Gilbert

If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.

— 1 John 4:20

I could not help but be reminded of it, I hope this is not too intrusive of an ask message to send

I’m glad my religion themed artwork gave you such a strong remembrance of scripture I never expected that :D thank you for that!

[valeisaslut]

riding country!ellie with your hands tied behind your back. that’s all i have to say baby ☺️💗

blessed are the ones who sin .♱ ݁˖

next part — cursed are the ones who stay

♱ word count: 2.8k 𖥔 ݁ ˖-

♱ content warnings: country!ellie x preacher’s daughter!reader, dom!reader x light sub!ellie, semi-public barn sex, religious guilt/blasphemy kink, bondage (wrists tied), spit kink, overstimulation, ass slapping, strap-on sex, mutual filth, southern accents, reader in control, ellie gets ruined, overstimmed & begging, both unholy and holy. MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

late summer air hangs thick with the smell of hay and something sweeter— like sin and sweat, like the hot ache of wanting something you ain’t supposed to. the crickets scream from the fields just outside, but inside it’s so quiet you can hear the sound of her chewing gum and the faint creak of the wooden beam you’re tied to.

your wrists are bound behind your back with her bandana. the red one. the one she always ties around her forehead when she’s fixing up her truck or working the stables. it smells like leather and salt and a her. something wild and unruly, something that’s never knelt for god in her life.

you’re kneeling in front of her. back straight. chin high. sweat rolling down your neck.

and ellie’s sitting in the hayloft ladder like it’s a damn throne, legs spread wide in those old jeans and boots caked in dirt, thumb hooked in her belt loop like she’s got all the time in the world.

“you always this mouthy for jesus, baby?” she drawls, slow and thick like molasses.

you raise your brow, smiling through the tension. “only on sundays.”

she laughs — low, rough, half-wicked. not the first time you’ve said something blasphemous in front of her, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.

there’s a rhythm to the way you sin with her. steady, worn into the floorboards. you’ve been sneaking around since spring, maybe longer, depending on how you measure guilt. maybe it started the moment she saw you barefoot on the porch, twirling a popsicle in your mouth with your sunday dress hitched up too high, your smile too slow. maybe it started when she smiled back.

your family doesn’t know.

god help them if they ever did.

they don’t ask where you go in the evenings. don’t ask why you’ve started skipping bible study or why your sheets smell like smoke. they just keep making plans, setting your place at someone else’s table. they say austin’s got a strong back and a clean conscience. that his daddy runs the feed store and his mama’s been praying for a girl just like you. they say you’ll grow to love him, that it’s god’s will, that you were made to serve— soft hands, closed legs, a white dress that won’t wrinkle.

they say purity like it’s a scripture you forgot how to recite.

because your body’s already spoken, louder than any psalm. it remembers the first time ellie touched you — fingers calloused from leather and sun, but gentle when they slipped beneath the cotton hem of your skirt in the back of her truck. it remembers the kiss behind the grain silo, your breath stuttering in her mouth, the way her hands gripped your hips like she was holding back a prayer she didn’t know how to say.

it remembers that sunday service, all tight smiles and tighter throats, when her hand brushed yours beneath the pew and your knees nearly buckled. you said amen with her fingerprints still blooming across your thighs, half a hymn tangled in your teeth.

ellie’s a cowboy. not the kind in songs, the real kind. boots worn through, flannel rolled to the elbows, jaw shadowed, shoulders broad. she rides horses, fixes fences, spits sunflower seeds out the side of her truck.

she’s got the kind of swagger your daddy would call a sickness. the kind of mouth your mama would pray out of you.

and she's kind of girl you couldn’t stop looking at since the day she rode into town with nothing but a duffel bag and a chip on her shoulder.

she doesn’t ask you to be quiet, doesn’t beg you to repent. she lays you down like a secret, one she knows the world will never be good enough to keep.

and you want her.

not just the rough edges, not just the danger.

you want the whole damn thing.

every inch of her, every breath. every long, aching night when she climbs through your window and fucks you so slow you forget how to say god’s name.

“reckon you got no shame,” she murmurs, her southern drawl curling around each word like smoke, eyes dragging over you slow. “kneelin’ for me in your daddy’s barn like a damn altar.”

you smile, all sugar. “ain’t shameful if he ain’t watchin’.”

ellie hums, low in her throat, and shifts forward on the wooden step. she’s flushed already, cheeks rosy, freckles darker in the barnlight. her hat’s tipped back off her head, hair tucked behind her ears. there’s a glint of sweat on her neck.

the strap’s already buckled on her hips —she always comes prepared, cocky little shit— but she hasn’t moved to use it. not yet.

“you been thinkin’ 'bout me?” she asks.

“every night.”

“and what exactly you think about?”

you tilt your head, testing her. “ridin’ you till you cry.”

her eyes flare. that sharp little twist of want crosses her face. the one that makes her jaw flex, her tongue swipe over her lip like she’s trying not to show how bad she wants it.

“you talk real big for someone with her hands tied,” she says, voice slipping a notch lower.

you lean forward, still on your knees, bare from the waist down, tank top damp with sweat and sticking to your back.

“you ain’t never had me ride you proper,” you murmur. “scared you’ll like it too much?”

ellie’s breath catches.

and it doesn’t take much to get her on her back.

ellie can act big and bad all she wants, but there’s something in the way she looks at you, like you’re the only one who ever unraveled her, that makes her pliant under your hands.

or in this case, under your hips.

you straddle her slowly, wrists still bound behind your back, breath caught somewhere between anticipation and ache. it’s awkward at first —not being able to steady yourself— but ellie helps. her hands find your waist, strong and sure, roughened by rope and reins. she holds you like she’s done it a hundred times, like your body was made to fit the mold of her grip.

her strap’s thick, veined, rubber catching light in the humid barn air. when you start to sink onto it, your whole body clenches. it’s wider than you remember, heavier. it doesn’t ease in; it claims space. stretches you open inch by inch until you can feel the pressure bloom behind your ribs, until your cunt swallows the whole length in a slow, trembling glide.

your breath stutters, your thighs shake. it’s not pain, it’s more than that— a full-bodied, spine-deep throb that makes your eyes roll back.

“oh, fuck,” you breathe, voice cracking.

ellie groans, low and drawn out, green irises dark and blown as she watches you sink down onto her cock. her head tips back, resting against the old hay bale, hips twitching up into your heat.

you can feel everything— the drag of the strap against your walls, the way it nudges deeper with every tiny shift. your slick is making it shine where it disappears into you, every breath you take rolls down your spine and settles between your legs. the fullness is obscene, glorious, a weight that makes you feel stuffed and ruined before you've even moved.

“god damn,” she pants, eyes stuck on the place where her cock disappears into you. “look at you.”

ellie’s hands are gripping your ass now, fingertips digging in, not guiding anymore. grounding. bracing. her thighs are tense under yours, trembling with restraint.

she wants to move, to buck up and fuck into you until you forget your name.

but she’s holding back, letting you take your time. letting you own it.

and you bounce— once, then twice, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the hayloft’s hush. it knocks the breath out of both of you.

then you stop.

“ellie.”

she looks up at you.

“spit in my mouth.”

her pupils dilate. something primal cuts across her face— a ripple of heat, a helpless twitch of her hips.

“jesus,” she whispers. then obeys.

you tilt your head back, tongue out, jaw slack. her spit lands hot and thick on your tongue, and your whole body jolts. the heat of it, the weight of her watching you take it.

you swallow it without blinking.

“good fuckin' girl,” she murmurs. voice gone hoarse, reverent, ruined.

“you like that?” you rasp, “like seein’ me all tied up and fuckin’ filthy?”

her answer is a sound you feel more than hear, a moan that starts in her chest and ends in yours.

she pulls the hat off her head.

her auburn locks are damp with sweat, stuck to her forehead. she looks fucked-out already. she twirls the hat once on her finger, then leans forward and settles it right on your head, tilting it low over your brow with a crooked grin.

“there,” she rasps. “now ride me, baby. you know how the sayin’ goes.”

your jaw slackens. your cunt clenches.

and then, you start to really ride her. slow, then faster, letting the friction drag against your clit each time you sink down. it’s messy as it can be. your hands useless behind your back so you can’t hold her, can’t even touch yourself.

all you can do is ride and burn and take it.

and ellie, ellie’s gone. her mouth’s open, eyes half-lidded, jaw slack as she watches you move. she’s panting now, chest heaving beneath her tank. one hand goes to grip your thigh, the other still sitting heavy on your ass.

“god, you look so good like this,” she mumbles. “like a damn dream.”

you roll your hips with a slow grind that makes both of you cry out.

“feel good?” you whisper.

“fuck—yeah. you ridin’ me so good, baby.”

you lean in closer, breath hot against her ear. “you want me to keep goin’?”

she nods, desperate, pupils blown.

“beg.”

you feel her shiver.

“please. please, baby — keep goin’. don’t stop, feels so fuckin’ good—”

you kiss her, hard and messy, even though you can’t hold her, even though it’s more teeth than grace. she whimpers into your mouth, arms wrapping around your back, pressing you flush against her chest.

and still, you ride. up and down, forward and back, each motion deliberate, unrelenting. the cock fucks into you with a rhythm that blurs into need, into instinct. your thighs tremble, your cunt flutters around the length, soaked and stretched, chasing the high that builds with every ruthless grind.

“ellie—”

“i got you,” she whispers. “come for me, baby. c’mon. make a mess all over me, i don’t care— fuck—”

and you do.

it slams into you like a storm. a white-hot burst of heat that shoots down your spine, curls your toes, makes you sob out her name. you collapse against her, writhing, gasping, clenching around nothing but rubber and the heat of her body beneath yours.

ellie holds you, whispers into your neck.

“that’s it. that’s it, pretty girl.”

when you finally stop shaking, breath still catching in your throat, you feel her shift beneath you— just a subtle twitch of her hips, but desperate. like her body’s chasing a high that isn’t hers yet, grinding up into you like it’s her cock inside you, like she can feel every pulse of your cunt in the aftermath.

you pull back just enough to see her face, flushed and slack, her freckles dusted pink, mouth parted. all bravado gone.

“you wanna come too?” you ask, voice soft. shaky.

she nods, fast. eyes wide, red in the cheeks, almost embarrassed.

“then do it."

and just like that, her hands clamp down on your hips, tight, possessive. she starts to thrust up into you with real rhythm— hard, measured, punishing. it’s not just desperate now, it’s practiced, deep. each stroke hits something sharp inside you, something raw and overused, and your whole body jolts with the contact.

the hat on your head tips forward from the force, nearly sliding off. ellie pushes it back with one hand —her eyes still locked on your face— then brings that same palm down on your ass in one sharp slap that makes you gasp, your cunt clenching around the strap with a wet squeeze.

“ride it,” she growls. “come on, baby — fuckin’ ride it.”

you’re already grinding back down to meet her thrusts, overstimulated, every nerve flaring. the strap’s deep inside you, dragging against every swollen edge, and now it’s unbearable— too much, too good, too slick. your body doesn’t know whether to fight it or surrender.

you choose the latter.

you ride her again, even as your thighs shake, even as tears prick the corners of your eyes and the most unholy whimpers and high-pitched moans can't stop falling from your lips. the overstimulation starts as heat, sharp and mean, but then melts into something hotter, filthier. a second orgasm building beneath the wreckage of the first.

ellie’s losing it. thrusting up like she’s fucking for survival, moaning into the space between your bodies, forehead damp, chest slick.

“tell me who you belong to,” she rasps, voice breaking.

“you—fuck—you, baby. always you. always.”

her hips stutter. her fingers bruise your skin.

and you feel it hit her — sudden, unstoppable — the way her thighs snap tight beneath you, her breath punches out in a broken and impossibly slutty cry, her muscles seizing around the thrusts she can’t finish.

you kiss her through it, mouths open, gasping into each other’s lungs, her rhythm still brutal beneath you. riding both orgasms out like a storm.

because just as she comes, so do you. your whole body folding over hers like a wave collapsing. you’re shaking, wrung out and wide open, dripping wet all over her.

it’s filthy. frantic. soaking.

there’s a mess between you now—your slick coating her lower stomach, smeared across her pelvis where your bodies kept grinding together. the base of the strap is soaked, and ellie’s clit is twitching beneath the harness, swollen and aching, nerves sparking with the contact, overstimulated and raw. her jeans sitting wrinkled on her knees. she’s breathless. her beautiful face slack and shining, mouth parted in awe.

you’re both still moving, barely— tiny, involuntary pulses that make your bodies tremble against each other, chasing the last shreds of the high. your thighs are trembling. her chest rises and falls like she’s been sprinting.

and when it’s finally over —when you both go limp in the hay, still pressed together, still shaking— she pulls the hat off your head and drops it beside you with a grin.

“jesus christ, baby” she pants.

you laugh, wrecked and breathless.

“he ain't here.”

“no,” she mutters, nosing at your cheek, lips brushing yours. “but you are.”

the silence after is holy. or—unholy, if we’re speaking in strict biblical terms. but it settles over both of you like grace, thick and reverent. a hush that feels sacred, even if it was born of sin.

the kind of silence that follows after church service, when the air is thick with incense and everyone’s misdeeds still hang like ghosts in the rafters.

you sit on her lap, breath still short, wrists still tied. your forehead pressed against hers. her hands trace lazy circles on your thighs.

“think i just saw the lord,” she mutters, voice hoarse.

you laugh, soft. “he didn’t smite us, that’s somethin’.”

ellie chuckles and presses a kiss to your temple.

“ain’t nothin’ wrong with the way we love, baby.”

you shift in her lap, arms aching now.

“you gonna untie me?”

she smirks. “eventually.”

“ellie.”

“i like you like this.”

“ellie.”

she grins, wide and beautiful and ruined.

“alright, alright,” she says, finally reaching behind you to undo the knot. her fingers are gentle now, like she’s undoing a bow on the prettiest present she’s ever gotten.

you roll your shoulders when you're free, and she presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“still thinkin’ about ridin’ me till i cry?” she asks, lazy, smug.

you hum. “next time.”

and she groans, tilting her head back like she’s already praying for mercy.

you laugh. you kiss her. you taste spit and sweat and salvation.

somewhere in the distance, the church bell rings.

and neither of you answer it.

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ DAYYUUUMMMMMMMM I ADDED SOME LORE TO MAKE IT MORE INTERESTING BUT GAWD DAMN IM WET W MY OWN WRITING. huge HUGE HUGE love and tysm to MIA THE LOVE OF MY LIFE you live in my brain rent free and you've been here since THE first day. words can't even start to describe how much i love you. my baby. my wife. my real one. will forever love you like the moon loves the sun. okay poetic. but seriously i love you endlessly.

images from pinterest - edited by me

perm taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <3): @talyaisvalslutsoldier @miajooz @andiemiaswife @mayfldss @sewithinsouls @coastalwilliams @hotpinkskitties @ssijht @pleasejoel @pariiissssssss @liddy333 @beeisscaredofbees @d1catwhisperer @the-sick-habit @elliescoquettegirl @elliewilliams-wife @yueluv3rrrr @your-eternal-muse @ellies-real-wife @katherinesmirnova @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @thxtmarvelchick @natscloset @lesbiansreverywhere @2against3 @wwefan2002 @ilahrawr @harmonib @piastorys @azteriarizz @starincarnated @natssgf @ukissmyfaceinacrowdedroom @iadorefineshyt @claudiajacobs @urmomssideh0e @kingofeyeliner @womenlover0 @ferxanda @imunpunishable @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrrr @bambi-luvs @maru0uu @mikellie @gold-dustwomxn @nramv @liztreez @eriiwaiii2 @elliewilliamskisser2000 @azxteria @elliecoochieeater

[sunshinesfreckless]

Dinner is Served

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairings: Felix x fem!reader

Summary: Horny thoughts at 3 AM turn you into a fine dining expert in the field of “Your Boyfriend’s Ass.”

Warnings: Felix’s ass, being hungry for Felix’s ass, freaking out over Felix’s ass… MDNI

A/N: Bangchan might have the biggest, but I don’t know—Felix looks so appetizing.

ALSO, the spoiled parts for Changbin, Han, and Lee Know are ALL in the making, my sweetlings. (Just like a part 3. for Every Girl gets her Wish) <3

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Felix had just begun his descent into peaceful slumber, arms wrapped protectively around Y/N, her back tucked snugly to his chest. One leg was lazily draped over hers like a clingy golden retriever. He was warm, comfy, and entirely unaware of the war about to be waged against his peace.

She blinked at the ceiling.

“Felix,” she whispered.

A sleepy grunt. A soft kiss to her hair. “Mmm.”

She wiggled slightly. “Felix.”

“Yes, baby,” he mumbled, somewhere between sleep and a dream about pancakes.

She rolled over to face him. “Open your eyes.”

His brows furrowed. “They are,” he slurred.

“No they’re not.”

He pried them open like it was the hardest thing he’d ever done. “There. Open. What is it.”

“Can I eat your ass?”

Pause.

A beat passed. Then another. Somewhere outside, a dog barked.

Felix blinked. “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you. It sounded like you just said—”

“Can I eat your ass.”

His eyes widened. “Okay. No. I’m awake now. Fully alert. Why—what—HUH?!”

She looked entirely too pleased. “Many men do this with their girlfriends.”

He sat up like a vampire emerging from a coffin. “Many men also die in the ocean. That doesn’t mean I’m going snorkeling with you at 2AM.”

“Oh my god, you’re being so dramatic.”

“I just laid down! I was about to have a dream about petting a goat!”

“I’ll pet your goat,” she said with a wink.

“What does that even MEAN?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m workshopping it.”

Felix buried his face in the pillow and faked a cry.

She crawled over him slowly. “You have such a pretty little ass, Lixie. Like a treat. Why wouldn’t I want dessert?”

He slapped a hand over his own behind. “No! No dessert! This bakery is closed!”

She licked her lips. “I’ve got the key.”

“STOP TALKING IN METAPHORS.”

Felix was still face-down in the pillow when she straddled his thighs like a woman possessed.

“I just don’t get it,” she sighed dreamily, hands spreading across his lower back like a renaissance painter preparing to sketch his muse. “How is it so round? So plush? So… biteable?” she stared at the Calvin Klein Boxershorts.

He let out a noise that could only be described as a muffled wheeze of betrayal. “Y/N. Baby. It is literally three in the morning.”

“I know,” she cooed. “That’s why I want it now. The nightly cravings.”

He twisted his head to the side.“You literally said that exact sentence last week when you tried to climb me like a jungle gym while I was eating nachos.”

“And you loved it.”

“I choked on a jalapeño and almost died.”

She smirked. “Exactly. After that you ate me out. What a way to go.”

“I haven’t even digested dinner!”

“That’s okay, now I’m the one digesting.”

He blinked.

“Felix,” she said reverently, as if she was about to recite scripture. “Your ass is like a peach carved by angels. A gift from the gods. Michelangelo could never. The Louvre is shaking. Doja Cat wrote ‘Juicy’ for you.”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“You’re only in your Boxers and I’m on top of you. Be serious. You can‘t live without me”

She was right. He groaned, rolling onto his side, trying to scoot away. She followed like a determined raccoon after a shiny object.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” he whined.

“I know exactly what I’m asking for. Face down, ass up, let me French kiss your Cheeks.”

He buried his face back in the pillow. “I’m calling Seungmin.”

“It’s 3am, he’s not picking up.”

“I’m texting Hyunjin.”

“He’ll help me.”

Felix finally flipped over, eyes wide and tragic. “Why now? Why this moment in time? Why is your whole personality suddenly centered around my butthole?!”

She leaned down until their noses touched.

“You underestimate how much I want to ruin you in the name of pleasure.”

He gulped. “…You’re insane.”

She grinned. “Turn around and find out.”

Felix sighed dramatically as he turned, flopped onto his stomach, dragging the pillow over his head like it might shield him from her deranged mission.

“You’re really not letting this go, huh,” he mumbled into the cotton. “It’s 3 a.m., Y/N. People are supposed to sleep at 3 a.m.”

She straddled the backs of his thighs like a woman on a mission. “People also nut at 3 a.m. It’s a sacred time.”

“Nothing about this is sacred.”

He yelped when she gave his ass a light slap through the fabric of his boxers. “You say that, but your body’s already getting shy,” she teased, fingers dipping under the waistband. “What’s wrong, pretty boy? Scared of a little tongue?”

“You are way too excited about this,” he muttered, but made no effort to stop her as she started peeling the boxers down.

She did it slow, dramatic—like she was unwrapping the world’s most unhinged birthday present. He kicked a little when they got stuck at his knees.

“Oh my god—lift your hips, you useless slut,” she snapped, swatting his thigh.

“Why are you bullying me and trying to eat my ass,” he whined, doing as told.

“Duality,” she replied sweetly.

Once his boxers were off, she sat back for a moment just to look. Her hands molded over the softness of him, thumbs spreading across the curve of his ass with open appreciation.

“Literally obsessed,” she breathed. “I‘m going to dig in, not even Chan could pull me out”

“I’m going to cry,” he muttered into the mattress. “I feel like a girl in a Kevin Gates song.”

Then he let out a choked little noise when she leaned down and kissed the inside of one cheek. Soft. Almost loving. Then another kiss, closer to center.

“You’re seriously—oh, fuck—”

He cut himself off when her tongue slid between the cheeks, slow and wet and deliberate. His legs twitched. His hand grabbed at the sheets like they might save him.

Her hands held him firm, spreading him open while her tongue dragged another lick, more pressure this time—confident now that he wasn’t fighting it. Not that he could fight. He was trembling already.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, that’s weird—wait—why does it—”

“Feel good?” she said smugly, breath hot as she dipped back in. “Just take it.”

He let out a broken noise, forehead pressed to the bed.

“Y/N,” he groaned, voice all wrecked and low. “I swear, if you make me cum from this I’m never making eye contact with you again.”

“Oh no,” she pouted. “How will I survive.”

“Y/N,” he gasped, already breathless, hips twitching as she licked another firm stripe right over the spot that made his thighs jerk.

“What?” she asked sweetly, pulling back to admire the way he was panting, the mess of his hair, the tremble in his thighs. “Shy now?”

“I—I’m not even supposed to like this—”

“Oh, baby,” she giggled, “you love this.”

He whined into the sheets, like the pillow could shield him from the truth.

Then she grabbed his hips with both hands and said, “Actually, turn over.”

“What?!”

“Turn. Over.”

“No—no, why—why do you need to see my face while you do this?”

“Because it’s pretty. And I want to watch it fall apart.”

He made a strangled little sound that might’ve been a protest, but she was already manhandling him—gripping his waist and flipping him over. He landed on his back, wide-eyed, dazed, legs still twitching.

And then she pushed. Bent his knees to his chest, folded him clean in half, heels hovering in the air. His face flushed so violently.

“Y/N,” he cried, face buried in his hands. “I LOOK STUPID—”

“You look delicious,” she corrected, kneeling between his legs, lowering herself like she was about to consume a five-star meal. “This is better. Now I can look at you and eat you.”

“I’m going to have a nervous breakdown,” he muttered, hands sliding helplessly through his hair as she lowered her head.

Then her tongue was back, this time with no hesitation, no teasing—just feasting. She licked him open, slow and deep, lips slick and greedy, moaning like she was genuinely enjoying herself.

Felix arched off the bed with a broken moan, thighs trembling, fists curled in the sheets.

“Fuck, fuck—stop—don’t stop—” He didn’t know what he wanted. All he knew was that her tongue was dragging circles that made his brain go fuzzy, and he could see her now—could see her eyes, half-lidded, cheeks flushed, hair falling over her face like she was starving for him.

“Why does this feel so good,” he whimpered. “Why the fuck does this feel—fuck—don‘t stop baby”

“You’re melting,” she whispered, voice low and proud, licking right over his hole before sucking on it like he was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted. “Such a good boy. Look at you.”

His eyes rolled back. His hips bucked into the air like his body was begging for more despite his mouth saying otherwise.

“I hate this,” he moaned.

“You love it,” she corrected, licking deep. “You’re going to cum just like this, aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna cry.”

“Do it,” she breathed. “Cry for me.”

Felix couldn’t take it anymore.

His legs were trembling, spread wide, knees still pressed toward his chest as she devoured him like she hadn’t eaten in days. The slurping sounds were filthy, obscene in the dark quiet of their bedroom. Her tongue flicked, circled, dipped—and every time, his whole body jolted like he was being electrocuted with pleasure.

His hands clawed the sheets. “Y/N—fuck—I’m close—I think I’m gonna—”

“I know,” she moaned against him, breath hot and wet. She slid her hand between her own thighs, fingers disappearing between soaked folds, working herself furiously as she kept going, tonguing him through every twitch and whimper.

“I shouldn’t like this,” he sobbed, red-faced, sweaty, overwhelmed.

“But you do,” she gasped. “You love it. Look at you—fucking shaking for me—”

He was shaking. Legs spasming, toes curled, cock untouched and leaking, hips trying to thrust into nothing as she licked him right on the edge of madness. She pushed her tongue deeper, lips sealing over him, and—

“Y/N—!” he cried out, high and desperate, thighs clamping around her head as he came hard, untouched, whole body bucking against the sheets as he lost control.

She didn’t stop. Licked him through every twitch, moaning as she came at the same time, fingers still working between her legs, body clenching tight as her orgasm ripped through her with a loud, needy cry muffled by the mess of his thighs.

By the time she pulled back, they were both breathless and trembling.

Felix collapsed against the bed like a broken marionette, legs still spread open, chest heaving.

She crawled up his body, kissed his flushed cheeks, then kissed his mouth—slow and deep and sweet, like none of what just happened had been borderline illegal.

“Thank you,” she whispered against his lips.

He blinked. “What.”

“I’m really glad you let me do that,” she said, smiling like a satisfied little freak. “It meant a lot.”

He stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “You just—you—I—I came from getting my ass eaten and you’re thanking me like I handed you a bouquet?!”

“You did hand me something beautiful,” she said seriously. “Your ass.”

He looked at the ceiling in utter defeat.

“Take your time,” she hummed, cuddling into his side like the angel of filth she was. “You’ll be begging for it next time.”

His eye twitched. “…Don’t say ‘next time.’”

“Next time.”

“Y/N!”

Y/N curled into his side like nothing in the world had just happened—like she hadn’t just tongue-fucked him into an out-of-body experience.

She nuzzled his shoulder, voice all soft and sleepy. “Cuddle me now. Let’s go back to sleep.”

Felix was still spread out like roadkill, sweat cooling on his skin, brain soup. “I need… to clean myself first. I can’t sleep like this.”

She pouted against his arm. “I already licked you clean.”

“Emotionally, and i‘m full of cum Y/N,” he said flatly, sitting up with great effort.

She watched him stumble toward the bathroom, still butt-naked and sore-looking, and as soon as the light hit him—there it was.

That ass.

Perfect. Glowing. Slightly red from how hard she’d gone. The arch in his back when he walked? Unholy.

Y/N stared, shameless and awed.

He paused in the doorway. Froze. Then turned slowly, catching her eyes directly on the goods.

“Y/N,” he snapped, pointing a warning finger. “Don’t. Look. At. My. Ass.”

“I literally just made out with it,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, and now you’re gazing at it like it’s a damn Van Gogh.”

“It kind of is.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair.

Then he pointed again, sharp and serious. “You get to eat it again only if you swear you won’t tell the boys about this. I’m not walking into the dorm and getting called Peachy Princess for the next year.”

Y/N grinned like the gremlin she was. “My lips are sealed, you pretty boy.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Swear on your favorite hoodie.”

“I swear on your entire ass.”

“…I don’t know whether to be honored or afraid.”

“Little bit of both,” she said with a wink, and rolled onto her side, giggling to herself as he shut the bathroom door—his cheeks (all four of them) red and glowing.

[theantho1ogy]

Priest AU #2

Ushijima x Fem!Reader

Can be read as standalone

Content: spanking, cockwarming at the end, brat taming?

You were a gift given to him by God, but you were a brat. Teasing him when he was preaching to the church, wearing such low tops that made your breasts pop out just right, and always catching him when he's suppose to be studying the scripture.

This was another test, to receive salvation Ushijima needed to make sure you knew your place. One thing he loved doing was showing his devotion and this was another gift for him, making you learn the hard way.

Priest!Ushijima was alone in his office, going over the passages he would preach to the church in an hour. Until you came strolling in, your skirt short like always and top thin enough he can make out the lace bra you had on underneath.

A temptation you would be if you weren't already his.

"What did I say about barging into my office when I'm working." Ushijima stated, paying you no mind. You strolled up to his desk leaning over his bible, giving him a full view of your cleavage.

"I just wanted to get some alone time with you before you have to talk to everyone." You huffed out, a small out on your glossy lips. "You get me after and before service, don't tell me you're being greedy now." Ushijima said, his voice sounding bored of your shenanigans.

Your attitude only got worse with his lack of response, with a sly smirk you got right in front of his face and slowly pulled down your top. "Are you sure you don't have even a minute to spare for me." You said in a seductive tone, hoping he'd give in.

Ushijima's gaze was set, taking in the view of your plump chest. His quickly slammed his bible shut, "lock the door."

You smiled, thinking you've won. Prancing over to tie the lock before making your way over to him. "What are we going to do today sir." You asked, shimming out of your panties.

Ushijima paid you no mind as he pushed his chair back slightly, making room between him and his desk. He patted his lap, not breaking eye contact with you, "lay down."

Confused, you slowly laid yourself over his lap. "Um sir? What are we doing?" The hesitance evident in your tone.

He ignored your question, silently working his hands up your thigh before flipping up your skirt. Your perky ass on full display. He slowly massaged one cheek, before slowly doing the same to the other.

"Every time my palm connects with your pretty little ass, you're going to recite a commandment. Got it."

His tone showed he wasn't joking, not like he joked normally. Fearing punishment you agreed, "yes sir."

Without warning his hand struck your ass, coming down quick. You jolted, not expecting him to go so hard. "I don't hear you speaking." Another quick smack connected.

You stuttered out whatever came out the top of your head. "Th- thou shall not covet." Ushijima rubbed your cheeks, giving you a second before striking again.

"Thou sh-shall not steal." The quick pain went away as he massaged you. Making sure you weren't hurting too bad.

Three more hits came as you squeaked out more rules. The stinging more prominent than when he first started.

You noticed Ushijima paused longer than usual, until you felt his thumb prod your lips. Letting his finger run down your slit, feeling your wetness coat him. "Are you enjoying this?" He asked, before smacking your pussy.

You moaned out in surprise, the mixture of pain and pleasure getting you more turned on. "Five more and then I'll give you a reward." Ushijima promised.

An eager nod and a wiggle of your hips had him continuing. His red hand print turning him on as he hit both of your cheeks. The sharp sting feeling so good.

You couldn't help but moan in between words, fully aroused as your slick ran down your thigh.

Finally getting the last word out, you turned towards him. Smiling up at him, waiting for your reward. Ushijima carefully brought you to your feet, making sure you could stand before unbuckling his pants.

Your mouth salivating at the thought of finally getting him inside you.

His thick cock standing so prettily, as he pulled it out of his pants. Slowly grabbing your waist as he maneuvered you to sit on top.

The stretch had you both moaning, your insides clenching around him as he filled you up. After a minute of adjusting you slowly started grinding down on him.

But he harshly smacked your pussy, abruptly stopping your movements.

"Your reward is to sit on my cock while I continue my studying before you rudely interrupted." You whined out, your lower half unconsciously squirming, begging for some type of friction.

A sharp smack came down on your front once again. "Do you understand." He glared out. "Yes sir."

Carefully adjusting his posture, he opened up his bible and continued on like nothing ever happened.

After the hour was up, and Ushijima was back in the public eye and performing for the audience. You sat in the back of the pews like every Sunday, but this time you had a small pillow underneath you.

[broidobe]

𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔫𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤

requested

☾tripping with jim morrison leads to an intimate, hallucinatory journey through bodies, minds, and dreams. reality slips. only sensation remains☽

☾warnings: nsfw, acid use, surreal sensory experiences, praise kink, light d/s elements, body worship, dirty talk, spiritual sex vibes, it's weird and that’s the point☽

𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 ᡣ𐭩 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓼 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝜗𝜚 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻𝓼

⁎⁺˳✧༚miscellaneous masterlist

you’re laid out on jim’s floor—shirt unbuttoned, head tilted back into a velvet pillow, ceiling melting into liquid gold. incense curls in the corner, thick and sweet like stolen sugar. his voice hums low from across the room, reciting poetry in rhythm with the flick of a lighter.

“there are things known, and things unknown,” he says, lighting the joint with a grin. “and in between… us.”

you’re already gone, pupils wide, skin hypersensitive. the acid started crawling in your bloodstream twenty minutes ago, and now the world is beginning to ripple like a pond after a gunshot. jim kneels beside you, the haze of his breath brushing against your cheek.

“you feel it yet?”

“feel everything,” you whisper, breath catching in your throat as his fingers trace slow, electric lines across your stomach.

he chuckles, eyes glowing in the dim, candle-lit dark like something ancient and holy. “you’re beautiful like this… undone. untethered. open.”

he says it like a spell, like a prayer. you arch slightly, not sure if your back is rising or if the floor is falling away. he presses a kiss to your collarbone—soft, reverent.

"i wanna worship you like the fucking sun,” he murmurs, sliding his hands down your sides. “burn myself on you. dissolve into you.”

his mouth trails lower, and you gasp—half in pleasure, half in disbelief at how real he feels. every nerve is alive. you’re pure sensation, a soul in skin. jim moves like he’s dancing, like his body is made of smoke and rhythm and endless want.

he pulls your pants down slowly, like a ritual. like he’s unwrapping sacred scripture. his fingers drag along your thighs, his lips part to whisper something in a language you’re pretty sure is made up, but you feel it.

the words slip into your skin, curl into your bones.

“can i taste you?” he asks, but he’s already between your legs, already anchoring you to the earth with his mouth.

the world explodes in technicolor.

he eats you like he’s starving, like you’re the answer to some cosmic question that’s been burning in his brain since birth. moaning into you, praising you in fragments—“so sweet, fuck, baby, give it to me”—like each syllable is a sacrament.

your hands tangle in his hair, and it’s not hair anymore, it’s fire. golden. glowing. too bright to touch but you hold on anyway.

and then—he’s above you again. pupils blown, lips slick, a man possessed.

“ride me,” he says, voice rough and low like thunder against your chest. “show me god.”

you straddle him, his hands gripping your hips, grounding you as you start to move. every thrust is a new universe. every grind sends shockwaves through your spine. you’re both moaning now—his head thrown back, yours falling forward.

your skin glows. you swear you can see the sound of your breathing.

he grabs your ass, thrusting up into you like it’s the only way he’ll ever get to heaven.

“you’re… unreal,” he groans. “fuck, baby. you’re not real. i’m dreaming you, aren’t i?”

“we’re dreaming each other,” you gasp, rolling your hips harder.

your orgasm hits like lightning. it tears through you with divine ferocity. his follows seconds later, loud and beautiful, his body curling into yours like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this plane.

and then—silence.

just sweat. breath. hearts.

he pulls you down, presses his forehead to yours.

“you are,” he whispers, “the most sacred trip i’ve ever taken.”

you laugh, dizzy and full.

“same.”

[panther-os]

I was getting tired of seeing "ethics sutra" in half the English translations and "Dao De Jing"/"Tao Te Ching" in the other half, so I have come with receipts.

The original Chinese is a pain in the ass to find in my corner of the world but, more importantly, the following:

谢怜回过头来，道：“背诵一千遍道德经就是了。”

“... ...”

花城挑起一边眉。不一会儿，谢怜便在耳畔听到了他的声音：“‘背诵一千遍道德经就是了’这十一个字，对吗？”

Which translates in English to this:

Xie Lian turned around and said, "Just recite the Dao De Jing a thousand times."

"......"

Hua Cheng raised an eyebrow. After a while, Xie Lian heard his voice in his ear. "'Just recite the Dao De Jing a thousand times', these eleven characters, right?"

道德经 can literally mean "Ethics Scripture"/"The Way of Morality Scripture" and 经 is commonly used for both Daoist treatises and Buddhist sutras, so I can kinda see where "ethics sutra" is coming from? But yeah no there's no Buddhist "ethics sutra", it's the Dao De Jing, the founding text of Daoism.

Fun fact: "Taoism" and "Tao Te Ching" are from the old Wade-Giles transcription scheme. "Daoism" and "Dao De Jing" are Pinyin. In Chinese, it's 道教 dào jiào - "The Way Teachings" - and 道德经 dào dé jīng - "Ethics Scripture". All four of these characters also have other meanings and connotations, I highly encourage you to check them out!

[mightyaphrodytee]

MY FIRST VISIT TO FLORIDA, January 1995, Palm Beach

Dad’s funeral, the whirlwind of seeing Rachel and Keelan for the first time in 12 years, absorbing the loss even as I felt no true grief for the man, only grief for a wound that would now never be healed, grief that my daughter lost a POTENTIAL actual grandfather—the last she had, staying in THAT HOUSE/MANSION IN PALM SPRINGS, Boz being shattered, Karina and Dorothy and Walter and their grief, the Ireland of it all being SO HEAVY, how warm and sunny it was even in late January, the High Catholicism funeral in the cathedral complete with incense and me (ME!) being asked to do a READING of some selected…scripture?—must’ve been, I can’t remember because honestly, it was all too much. Two days. Not enough yet too much all at once.

Yes I’m haunted but I’m feeling just fine

FLORIDA!!!

SECOND VISIT TO FLORIDA: April 1997, Orlando

With James, to Disney World and Universal Studios, Clay has a condo for us, surprise! Clay’s already there! I’ll pay for all the admission to everywhere if you just pay for your flight, DEAL!, being dependent on a cane, in constant pain while weight-bearing but my dr had not yet figured out what it was, seeing Rachel again under much better circumstances, light recreational drug use while partying with James and Clay and Rachel on whatever island that was, late at night, everybody drunk, we were drunk, Rachel and Clay hitting it off and dancing with a hundred other people VERY SUGGESTIVELY, and James’s subsequent meltdown over Clay wanting to be somehow sexual with A WOMAN and he’s a whore and on and on and then the next day sober acting like it never happened because nothing whatsoever happened between Rachel and Clay omg, going on all the rides before everybody else, no standing in line, because I was LITERALLY CANE DEPENDENT, the sensory overload, it was all 100% amazing and I was very sad to leave.

This was the first significant amount of time I got to hang with Rachel, and I fell in love. Sisters!

I have some regrets

I’ll bury them in

FLORIDA!!!

THIRD VISIT TO FLORIDA: November 1999, Palm Beach, Rachel’s wedding

Drunk, emotional, fabulous experience that felt like living through a hurricane. Of feelings! The Palm Beach Hotel, the spa at the PGA Gardens, the last day brunch on the beach when it was cloudy and drizzly and windy, the rehearsal dinner at that dope restaurant on Worth Avenue, the party at the Phippsberger’s with Inigo spraying tequila into my open mouth with a spray bottle and drunk driving golf carts around the estate, Boz in a cow suit (!!!), talking to Walter and getting some details about Dad’s childhood, feeling very Irish, very Butler heavy, Marie getting so hammered she fell down on the pavement (which, boy do I retroactively empathize with how bad that must’ve hurt), that chat with Jeannie about Dad omg, Miranda’s blossoming beauty that was definitely attractive to boys, the fun she had being a bridesmaid, her and Blanaid’s instant connection, that awful Patrick, getting high with Keelan at the reception in the tall hedges in front of Dad’s memorial tree, that friend of Dad’s who sat at our table and upon learning who I was, informed me that my father hadn’t been married prior to his marriage to Rachel’s mom, with such audacity and authority, my polite yet forceful recitation of the fact that I was, in fact, Jim’s oldest biological DAUGHTER and oh btw this girl next to me is his ONLY GRANDCHILD SO FAR, and him taking a moment to process, then saying ohhhhh, New York. Yeah, asshole, I thought. NEW YORK. After that he realized who we were, asked about Jay, and kissed our asses for hours. Hilarious. A fever dream. Joy and sorrow and gratitude and love all in one chaotic three-day weekend.

It’s one hell of a drug

FLORIDA!!!

FOURTH VISIT TO FLORIDA: March 2001, Daytona Bike Week

Wild veer between severely traumatic and utterly blissful. Met Lisa <3 Day. Loved her. Fran and Ron ditto. The other Ron, the one who gave us his cat before he retired. Waking and baking (except my husband.) Copious quantities of alcohol. Too much alcohol, as it turned out. The 10 pills, the hate in my heart for my husband, the ambulance, the ER, the coldness he displayed towards me for the rest of the trip despite knowing HE was the reason I kinda wanted to die and which he continued for a few days after we got home, as per usual. Passive-aggressive fuckery. One hell of a drug, charcoal is.

Tell me I’m despicable

Say it’s unforgivable

FLORIDA!!!

FIFTH VISIT TO FLORIDA: the very next month, April 2001

Orlando, West Palm, Palm Beach, Cocoa Beach, Julie and Sharon and Lisa Day (again!), in Cocoa Beach when the weather was so bad the wind was whipping the sand straight into our FACES, rendering sitting on the beach impossible (we joked it was free microdermabrasion to make us feel better that the one day we had all together was under such shitty weather), getting drunk instead and ordering takeout from Denny’s the next morning, hungover as fuck, Rachel and baby Liam, her husband basically ripping me off for $50 by taking my money to go get me weed, never to be heard from again), getting cafe con leches and Cuban sandwiches with Keelan, madness, escapism, all manner of substance abuse (just weed and alcohol, but some of the drinks and liquor store runs produced some increasingly complex cocktails), desperately delaying my return to real life, which was circling the drain back home, the dread was a physical thing I felt every single minute, but thankfully cell phones were limited, we didn’t have any, but still…and yet. Control was exerted and I submitted and went home strictly because I love my daughter.

So you pack your life away

Just to wait out the shitstorm back in Texas

FLORIDA!!!

And I’ve never been back. It all seems like a fever dream of colors and heightened emotions and hotel rooms and mansions and a hurricane with my name and me and my ghosts and laying to rest all the bodies that had been on my body and barricading myself in the bathroom with a bottle of wine, check, check, check.

[lordhelpme0-0]

Pregnancy and Period machines

Me: so Uhm……

Yuu: we’re waiting.

MC (OM): yep. *waddle over cause sheep*

Me: okay…so long story short. I dared them that they can’t last a whole pregnancy and horrible period cramps…

Mitsuki: and?

Yuu: now I install the one who think they can and one who think they deserve pain. So now, they’re all screaming.

Mai:

Mai: why?

MC: arrogance.

Emma:

Emma: Valid, turn it up one level will you?

Me: you guys aren’t mad?

Yuu: call it revenge. I still pissy at them for the stress. Is Crowley doing it too?

Me: ..yes..?

Yuu: turn it up all the way.

Me:

Me: valid. Aight.

Meanwhile

Arthur: OH BLOODY MURDER ON WINSTON CHURCHILL CIGARS!!!

Isaac: *holding both Arthur and Dazai hands* how much longer?

Me: uhhh……3 more hours? We’re halfway through though.

Vincent: it’s okay broer, just push. *tending to a screaming Theo*

Sariel: …more water?

Clavis: YESS DAMMIT!! GAAAAGGGHHHHH!!

Chevalier: this is idiotic. *holding Nokto and Clavis hands*

Me: might as well practice holding the hand of extreme strength when your beloved queen give birth.

Chevalier:

Yves: push! Just push!! *tending to Jin, Leon, and Licht*

Jin: FACK! THIS FOOKIN HURTS!!!

Me: lol

Lucifer: out of all things. Why?

Mammon: SHUT UP LUCIFER!! JUST COMFORT- AHHHHHH!!!

Solomon: HOLD ME TIGHTER SIMEON!!!

Simeon: I am..???

Satan: pfft-!

Napoleon: just breath Jean! Just breath!

Jean: hgghnnh!!!

Mozart: *stuck holding his hands* …why???

Hideyoshi: *tending to the daredevils and Nobunaga*

Leyasu: *not amused at patting cold cloth on Masamune*

Keiji: HOLY-! THAT HURTS!! MY STOMACHE!!!

Yukimura: M’lord?!

Shingan: must..PUSH!

Kenshin: *regretting every choice he made* too…much..hgnnnh!!

Kennyo: *reciting scripture as Kicho stuck on holding both Motonori and his hands*

Kicho:

Kanetsugu: I got water m’lord!!

Me: ah yes…

Crowley: *screeching*

Leona: *regretting* SHI-! THAT HURTS!!!

Malleus: *silently suffering*

Lilia: Fufufu~!

Ace: THIS HURTS! IY HURTS! TURN IT OFF! OFF!!!

Riddle:

Deuce: *screeching 2*

Kalim: water! Water!!!!

Jamil: *sighs* here.

Azul: I REGRET THIS!!!

Floyd: TURN IT OFFF!!!!! I SWEAR ILL SQUEEZE YOU!! *unholy screeching*

Jade: *smiles silently*

Idia: *looking at the screaming men while watching the monitors as the *doctor**

Ortho: *casually scanning them for any health needs*

Rook: *enjoying as he tends to Vil*

Epel: *more intrigue on watching Ace and Deuce suffer*

Grim is nowhere, hiding so he won’t be next*

Crewel: *holding Crowley hands with a scowl*

Trein: *helping out cause man had help his wife pregnancy giving birth before*

Vargus: *not found*

Me: anyway…they told me to turn it up one more level so bear with me. Crowley…your gonna have a painful all levels lmao!

Everyone *beside the people not doing it*: WHAAT!!!

Crowley: NOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAGHHHHHHH!!!!

Me: music to my ears. Lol

Comte: *sighs*

They learn their lesson after that. The one who didn’t do the pregnancy one is now forced to period cramps low to extreme|:

Comte: *on the ground, curling up*

Leonardo: *dead*

Theo: *feeding Vincent sweets and water*

Vincent: *crying while smiling silently*

William: *crying on Vlad who is eating a lot of sweets strawberries and warm milk*

Riddle: *having a heating pad as a jacket*

Lucifer: how much longer?!

Me: ..2 hours.

Napoleon: I have whole much respect now…how do you deal with this??? *wincing as he walks with a tampon in his ass*

Me: meds, experience, practice, and also! Years of silent suffering. I told you to get a pad.

Napoleon:

Chevalier: I feel bloated…I can’t do anything without curling over.

Yves: *crying on Leon shoulder who is passed out from staying awake from the pain*

Leon: —(X-X)—

Jin: *rubbing Luke shoulder* more honey.

Luke: Yes. *death glare*

Jin: …

Jake: *exercising*

Trein: *holding Lucius tighter*

Basically just chaos:

Me: ah yes…music 030)

[damnhotmsimmons]

Episode 7-What Doesn’t Kill Us..

...makes us stronger. Lol, kidding. Though why the hell did they changed the title at the last minute (it was supposed to be Pieces of Me), it’s not giving the show any favors considering how 16x06 end up. Anyway, here are my thoughts for this episode

caution, spoilers below:

so a woman is trapped somewhere

are those air vents?

For a second, I thought that lady was Nicole Kang from Batwoman

There’s another victim somewhere? 

Now I can why this has a horror movie feel to it

wtf?! Bailey reciting the bookend quotes?

Emily looking fine as always

wait, Garcia is gonna confide to Emily about Tyler?

nvm, Bailey interrupted them. Dammit Bailey, why did you had to had to interrupt some meaningful lady bonding?

Bailey being nervous talking to the Attorney General is not what I expect from him after being an Obstructive Bureaucrat

Emily being so done with politics and getting after nearly dying multiple times is hilarious

not to mention her confusion when Bailey admits he’s nervous and not liking these types of meetings

Again, why is it always the men interrupting any lady bonding, why couldn’t JJ be the one to talk to Tara about her and Rebecca. No offense to Rossi, plus we could have gotten Tara and JJ bonding

You’re not an idiot Tara, Rebecca is being stubborn regardless of her reasons

Rossi being a dad and telling Tara to take three days off

Emily being dramatic af and threatening to resign with Bailey (surprisingly) defending her

Not the Attorney General accusing the BAU of being “distracted” by the Sicarius case

wait, so the case in West Virginia isn’t connected to the Sicarius storyline?

lights? What is this, stranger things?

“Help me.” oh shit, and it’s in blood

Rossi being a dad

So Tara is working on a separate case, which has to deal with Moose based on the sneak peek

Rossi being so done with Bailey, and his reaction to Bailey joining him on the team is hilarious

“Thank you for welcoming us.” “I didn’t” I can’t lmfao

Bailey debriefing 

“What Agent Jareau”

Seriously, not the bureau taking away their jet again, they just got it 

Bailey is me in a group project

So we’re back to some domestic!Elias, reminding the viewers that he’s still a family man

“I will literally murder you.” Sydney sweetie, your husband is a literal serial killer

not these flashbacks

wtf?! another vision

Luke’s reaction to Rossi knowing about whips

another Reid reference

Luke knowing his scriptures, and his grandmother being religious

so the victim is an ex-convict

Bailey taking

Emily stopping Garcia and wanting to know about her and Tyler Green

Emily being a mood when she hears about the kiss

New back at the BAU Garcia being more impulsive and committed to pleasure, she couldn’t have done that to Luke?

Emily telling Garcia she gave her a migraine instead of a headache with the kiss imfao

“You have to break it off with him.” Emily being the majority of the fandom

“Unless you have a time machine..” gotta love sassy Emily

Emily being grossed out when Garcia tells her Tyler spent the night at her place even if it’s not sex haha

Doug being very sympathetic in the interview is not what I’d expect

his father being a hippie in the 60s was also interesting

so the blonde lady, Grace, is still alive, so far and is trying to help the other captive lady, Ashley

at the sneak peek

Tara sa

Garcia telling Tara to call Rebecca and apologize. I appreciate Garcia trying to help Tara

Not Garcia hanging up on Tyler after telling Tara to call Rebecca

The BAU and Bailey delivering the profiler to local police and the campus 

this headmaster being an ass

so Grace has been there for a while

Not another Elias vision, where he kills his family (again)

no, don’t hurt Grace, and Ashley

Tara interviewing Tawny, surprised she didn’t suspect Elias yet. I loved how she called Tara out for being distracted while praying

oh no, not Sydney confronting Elias outside and at night 

Sydney has a rough childhood?

What does Sydney know about Elias?

Shit shit shit, Elias almost tried to kill his own wife till he learns that she knows he got fired

no, please don’t die Grace

Bailey not in a suit makes him look like a suburban dad with that shirt

So it’s the first time seeing him in the field

Bailey’s dad seems like a much bigger asshole than him

of course Emily would tell Rossi and Rossi seems more delighted to be disappointed in Bailey. Matt, Luke, Reid and Morgan are his favorite “sons”

“Come and get it motherfucker.” Get it Ashley, justice for Grace

oh shit, Grace is alive (barely)

Emily and Bailey going in to save the girls

I got anxiety seeing Ashley struggling to find the right key

Thank god she escaped, moreso that she found Emily and Bailey in time

Them inside the building feels like a horror movie

I wished Emily didn’t go alone to stop the unsub

Never thought I’d be relieved to see Bailey there and stop the unsub

Bailey being shaken after seeing blood in his hands

Elias is losing his family, it was inevitable but it’s a pain to watch

I still want to give Tara a hug

Aww, Will waiting for JJ by the elevator

“adult supper” willifer having date night

Tara watching JJ and Will having a moment, my heart. She’s thinking about Rebecca and wished it was them

Tara and Rebecca deserved to go on a date night, fuck you cm writers

Poor Emily, the attorney general closed the Sicarius case

ugh, Tyler at Garcia’s apartment. Also, the messy hair looks bearable than the slicked back hairstyle he got

oh no no no no no, please are they about to-

Emily is somewhere losing her shit and having two migraines again

It should have been Luke, this is bullshit

So Rossi found Elias in the cctv footage, while Elias is trying to hide and bury more evidence

I swear if this sets up a final confrontation between Rossi and Elias, I don’t want it, Garcia should do that

I had to be informed by @marvelfanlife that there was a post credits scene in this episode. I watched it and....yea, aftermath of the “love scene” *vomits*

I will say that while I still don’t like Greencia, the post credits scene was undeniably hilarious. “Redecorating” my ass. Garcia’s neighbor was funny. Still, it could have been garvez

They fucked on the table? Is Garcia a top? The same table where Luke gave Garcia a kiss on the cheek. Thank god for those books to cover up Tyler

again, does that mean top/dom!Garcia confirmed?

  I wil say that this episode was a slight step up compared to last week’s episode, though I still have some issues with certain stuff like the greencia scenes, the Rebecca drama, and the lack of JJ and Luke in this episode. I don’t know how to feel about Bailey, I guess I hate him less since he does have a conscience, though this doesn’t erase all the terrible things he said to Emily and I wished she doesn’t forgive him so easily. At least this episode has some more good moments to balance out the bad stuff (like the greencia scenes). I was relieved to see some female interactions after having so little in the past. Seeing how Aisha directed this episode also explains the slight improvement this episode had. It’s not perfect but I’m more likely to rewatch this episode more than 16x06

[autistic-fool-with-ideas]

I am obsessed with this book’s world building actually this is so cool. The vampire interpretation??? Red Right Hand??? This sounds literally so cool I am so invested

Also mr. Bliss is a stupidly unnerving name I hate it (positive)

The next few things I can think of for Wukong timeline wise are:

He gets freed from the mountain he was trapped by thanks to this monk (Tripitaka). HOWEVER he also ends up with this fuck ass circlet on his head that when the sutra attached is recited, it digs into his literal skull and gives him the worst migraine imaginable. This was to ensure Tripitaka’s safety because the celestial realm (someone from there basically sent him to deliver scriptures from the Buddha and they set Wukong up to be a guardian for him) is well aware of his bullshit

He does a couple things that are in the book but debatably canon to the show. One thing that IS canon to the show that just straight up never happened in the book is that Wukong helps save the world from this one demon, Lady Bone Demon. We don’t know how far she got in her plan but we know she managed to attack the entire celestial realm before she was imprisoned by Tripitaka until she got better (which was never)

He accidentally gets one of his new buddies effectively cursed with a fire that can harm even him (he has six immortalities on his belt atp), we don’t know HOW he dealt with that but we know he felt bad

Skip a couple chapters, Wukong meets his best friend Macaque again after 500 years!!! Yippee!!

Everything goes wrong and Wukong murders Macaque. Puts his staff through Macaque’s right eye

Another bunch of chapters later, he meets his other pals from the brotherhood (not DBK, that’s next point), Peng, Azure, and Yellow Tusk. Once again, we have no idea what happened but we do know that Wukong sealed those three into the scroll of memories (a scroll made by the ten kings of the underworld, meant to force anyone sealed into it to repeat their entire life over and over)

Then skip to post book, or at least presumably post book, DBK goes on a rampage for some reason. We once again do NOT know why (this show loves its unreliable narration). We do get to see their fight tho, and it ends with Wukong sealing DBK underneath a mountain and then disappearing for the next sixteen centuries

After that all, the show begins actually

[akitohsworld]

Disclaimer: Thank you for all the love on my last smut fic. But well, since I want to commit, Imma give you another for this new year. I crave a more dominantly portrayed Simeon (I'm a switch, I have my craves ok) because I think he be the most shady of them all. I still need to accustom myself to writing these and get better, so extremely kinky shit will have to wait, but I did my best with this one as I vow to always do :D

Happy New Year everyone ❤️🌚👉👉

Warnings: NSFW, smut, light BDSM (collar etc.), fetishizing religion (Christianity), mentions of edging

Divinely Demonic (Simeon X GN!Reader)

"Take these off for me, would you?", his voice sounded innocent, but his eyes had this sadistic subtext to them. Taken aback, you reached for one of his arms, to take off his glove.

"Ah, (y/N)", you stopped, "I'd prefer you use your mouth."

An innocent smile tugged at the angel's lips. You huffed silently.

So this is how he wanted to play it?

Being in a relationship with Simeon for some time now, you could definitely say that he was all parts of a perfect lover and more. He was kind, caring and he conformed to your wishes as much as he could. For him bringing you happiness was his greatest joy and, if he was being honest, he never thought that he would feel that way about anyone. With different parts of your relationship, came different and new things to try and experience together, and so it had been a bit awkward to open up about kinks and fantasies at first. Especially, since Simeon was an angel and you didn't know where you had to draw the line. But, like everything in a good relationship, communication and an honest approach was key to fulfilling both of your desires, and indulging in this angel's fantasies in particular had you blushing and squirming in all the right ways.

You couldn't lie, the idea of Simeon's perfect, angelic, kind mask crumbling off to make space for that beautiful sadistic nature of his, sprinkled with raw un-honeyed disdain, made you quiver in excitement.

You provocatively shifted on the bed, hand grazing his arm as you took yours back to lean into for support. A shimmer glistened ever so slightly in Simeon's blue eyes when he grazed his gloved thumb over your bottom lip.

Your eyes trained on his as your lips parted, sensually engulfing his thumb, careful not to bite down on his finger. Teeth biting at the thin cloth, then pulling at it cautiously. Doing the same with his other glove afterwards. But this time, you made it a point to kiss his fingers, before taking them into your mouth, eyes trained on his. Simeon's breath hitched.

"(y/N)..", your hand traced his abdomen lightly, before suddenly sliding it into his pants, making him hiss as you palmed his already erect cock, proceeding to apply pressure to it deliciously slow.

You weren't going down without a fight. Not that it mattered, top or bottom, both was very enjoyable. But who could decline a bit more spice?

Your lips found his in an attempt to distract him from your other free hand, already pulling down the zipper as you felt him sigh into your mouth. Your fingers traced his slit just how he liked it, and he must admit, he was this close to let you just service him right then and there. Much to your dismay though, the angel smiled against the kiss. Indulging you, feeling you up himself as his tongue devoured your mouth, hands uncharacteristically squeezing your ass. He moaned.

"(y/N)"

You hummed against his lips.

The angel's hands were causing a tingling sensation on your skin as they traveled up your sides and a pleased sigh escaped your mouth.

"(y/N)."

He grabbed you by your chin and you could feel the excitement burning into your core at the change of tone in his voice. Innocence long forgotten. Simeon's eyes were dark with lust and-

"Ahh.. Where's your patience, little lamb?"

-you swore you saw a sadistic shimmer in them.

He chuckled, shaking his head in a pseudo-disappointed manner, pulling down your pants swiftly. You let out a surprised gasp as he pushed you on the bed.

"Sim- hah", his fingers traced your clothed sex, already wet with your fluids. He applied pressure to it, fingers trailing its features in a teasing build up, earning a gasp from your lips. Your inner walls clenched around something that wasn't there and you felt your core aching for his touch. Your body started squirming as you desperately tried to hold back your voice, while Simeon rubbed the spots that made you whine and hold onto him with need. When his slender fingers finally proceeded to enter you, moans and gasps followed as they signaled your growing impatience.

He slid down between your legs nerve-wrackingly slow, planting lingering kisses on your chest, abdomen and between your thighs, while your undergarments were tossed aside in a swift motion.

"You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?"

His breath tickled on your skin as you felt his eyes bore into your soul. You said nothing and just looked at him tauntingly, a façade. In reality you wanted nothing else for him than to ruin you.

A smirk formed on his lips for a split second. Simeon's expression was no longer restrained, but clearly amused. Without warning his mouth enveloped your sex, tongue sliding around what made your hole clench and shiver. .

God, you wanted to touch him so badly.

"Simeon please- haah...nnh-", you felt a coil in your stomach tighten with each suck, each lick and stroke of his tongue against your sensitive spots. He groaned against your sex, sending vibrations through the sensitive nerves. You were so close, so so close-

"Fuck- Simeon-.."

He moved away.

You let out a very frustrated groan.

"No... Why?-"

"You didn't answer my question, little lamb."

He was mocking you.

"I-..", your fingers clenched at the sheets, "I forgot what you asked..."

Simeon sighed, seemingly disappointed.

"Oh no. That won't do", his gaze sent shivers down your spine, "That won't do at all."

He stood up, getting something from his nightstand.

A collar with a chain, and a Bible.

Your eyes widened. His cape slid down to the floor with a quiet thud.

"Now, now", the angel, still fully clothed hovered over you, "like we practiced."

The collar found your neck tilting it upwards as he gave the chain a light tug. He then proceeded to place the now open Bible next to your head.

"What do you say? Shall I forgive you?"

You breathed in sharply. Your mind was in shambles from all the teasing. And normally you hung onto Simeon's lips whenever he quoted the scriptures during sex because it was just so hot to you. But that didn't mean that you knew everything by heart. The Bible, tauntingly placed beside your head, was not an option. It was just there to test you and you knew that .

Your nose scrunched a bit as you tried to remember.

"M-Matthew 14 to s-"

SMACK.

His hand slapped your thigh.

You bit back a moan.

The numbers always messed you up, it was hard to remember them.

It didn't help that his fingers prodded your entrance before provocatively taking his cock out of the restraints of his clothes, rubbing it against your sex. Your hips ground up for more friction.

He just send you a teasing smile, a chuckle escaping his lips. "You were saying?"

You knew the answer was there, right beside your head, but no, no Simeon didn't like brats. Well maybe he did, but he didn't take too kindly to them. And today you were just not patient enough for hours of edging.

You felt his soft, warm hands rubbing at your thighs, spreading them slowly to see you better.

You were so lovely to him. Already so needy and throbbing. But that didn't mean he was going to let you off easy. A light tug on your collar told you he expected an answer.

"M-Matthew..... 6: 14 to 16, says ahh..", his fingers spread out your entrance, "F-for if you forgive them-"

He tugged at the chain, harshly.

"Guh- oth- other people when they do-"

Slowly he entered you, feeling your walls clench and sucking him in. A loud moan leaving your mouth. More, faster, deeper, is all you could think about as your legs attempted to draw him closer. Simeon groaned, brows furrowed as he indulged in the feeling of your aching entrance around him. "If you mnh do well" , he pounded into you once, hard, a guttural moan escaping you, " I'll let you cum, okay?"

That was not a question.

You nodded aggravatingly.

He then started to move at a steady, but rough pace.

"Mnh- hah siinn against you, ngh- your heavenly F-father will also...", your eyes traced down Simeon's beautiful features, " forgive you.  But if you don't-"

Another harsh tug at the collar took your breath away, followed by a particular hard thrust against your hips. You felt the coil tightening inside your stomach again, trying very hard to bite back your moans and do as you're told. Just concentrate, concentrate but... You were captivated by his flushed cheeks, his skin glistening with sweat and his eyes dripping with lust.

Good God, he was so pretty.

"Mnh Do not forgive others", your gaze lingers at his crotch, shamelessly and hungrily, " their... Uh their-"

Your vision was beginning to blur, he was hitting all the right spots. As such, it was beginning to feel harder and harder to recite in a comprehensive way. Every sound coming out of your throat threating to be a moan, rather than a word. Although, that's just what Simeon wanted. He loved to see you melt away under his touch, struggling to be good for him. It was the most delicious thing, seeing you squirm under him, trying so hard to make him proud and praise you.

The wet sounds his thrusts were making echoed througout the room, ragged breaths and low moans the only thing reaching your ears.

"Ahgh-", a cut out moan escaped your throat as he tugged on the chain once again, this time with more force.

"Are you mn..distracted, little lamb?", his voice brushed your ears like feathers as your gaze shifted up to his eyes again. He slowed down his pace teasingly, making you whine. "Done already?"

You shook your head. You wanted nothing more than to make him fuck you into oblivion at this point.

"Then continue. Unless", he lowered himself onto you, lips brushing yours, "you want to be punished?" your thighs clenched at his hips involuntarily.

"Their...", you furrowed your brows in concentration, hands clenching the sheets, "sins, your Fa-"

He pounded into you harder.

"Hahh- fuck-", a harsh tug on your collar took your breath away once again, but he wasn't slowing down. On the contrary.

"hah..Continue", his lips curled into a full blown sadistic smirk. His face darkened by shadow from the light hitting him from behind made him look so divine yet so demonic, eyes shimmering like sapphires drenched in blood.

Simeon himself was getting slightly impatient, what you did to him, he never experienced before. Your walls kept sucking him in, trying to keep him there in a delicious tide, as he felt his own orgasm approaching. Your moans and prayers tugging at his own restraints, when your body reacted to him in all the right ways.

You wanted to touch him. You needed to touch him. With pleading eyes and furrowed brows you tried to concentrate one last time. Gaze fixed on him, as you recited the last part.

"Yo-hah-your", he hit a particular spot with force, your back arched and made you almost shout the rest, "F-faather- aahhn- will not forgive yoUR SINS!!"

Simeon's smile widened while cupping your cheek.

"Such a good little lamb.", you felt his fingers tracing your sex again with urgency, while he hovered over you, letting go of the chain and pressing his forehead to yours lovingly. He bit his lip, muffling his ragged breaths and moans that dared to escape him each time his hips slammed into yours.

Finally, your hands buried into his locks, kissing him passionately as you drowned out your moans in each others mouths. Tongues intertwining as if you tried to suck out your souls, claiming each other.

"(y/N)", you parted, hooded eyes staring back at you, while both of you let the pleasure take over. Simeon's hips crashed into yours with more vigor every time, hitting that one spot that made your back arch and your walls clench deliciously around his aching cock. It was all so much. Your hands found their way under his shirt, clawing at his sensitive back. Your legs pulled him even closer towards you, flexing with each thrust. He felt his member dragging along your walls as if you were trying to milk him dry, your body trying to devour everything he was giving you and more.

"Hng Simeon"

His hand movements sped up together with his pace. The coil was tightening and tightening. He was close. And so were you.

The slapping sound of flesh against flesh mixed and matched the groans and pants of this ravaging play of pleasure. You were clenching him so forcefully now, every movement, every twitch of his cock mirrored in moisture of your hole. Bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Hah- mn- Simeon please, please, please-", your fingers were clawing at the angel's back so much, your knuckles turned white. With powerful thrusts dragging along your walls and his fingers moving over just the right spots a loud guttural moan accompanied your spasming walls , covering him in your juices as you were driven over the edge. He moaned loudly, overwhelmed by the feeling of your orgasm bringing about his own while he bit down on your neck in an attempt to deal with all the pleasure he was feeling. His wings had sprung out and his body was shaking wildly. As you rode out your high, you held him close, his moans still spilling out of his mouth.

He rocked his cock in and out of you in a slower more sloppy pace as his arms held your head, pressing his face into your neck, while your hands gently graced through his locks and then found his wings, causing him to shiver and groan, hands clawing into your shoulders.

With time you had come to understand that angels experienced orgasms way longer and were highly sensitive and vulnerable in those moments.

"It's okay...", you panted and lovingly kissed his head, "I'm here.. it's okay.. you did amazing."

A low chuckle errupted against your neck.

"I- ahh.. should be saying that...", he turned his head to face you, eyes full of love and adoration, "You did ama-nnh-zing, little lamb.."

Now it was your turn to chuckle.

"Let's take a bath later, shall we?"

He hummed quietly and nuzzled into your neck again.

"Yeah.. let's do that"

In moments like these, you don't need to say it, to get it across. Because you share it and you feel that.

[xplrvibes]

Imagine living or going for a walk at night in those woods since many do have cabins and property there, and seeing a tent with 4 grown men screaming their asses off lmao.

My issue with them or should i say Sam is that he is so quick to judge EVERYONE but never himself. He’s judged Jennifer, her friend, mediums, friends, COLBY. Yet the one person convincing them she can run after a demon and scare it away in one video and then telling them to recite a biblical scripture the next video to rid of it, he believes. Its hard not to see his way as someone who is only interested in dramatics and views because honestly he comes off very skeptical still. You have Colby shaking,pale at the face, clawing at his arm and Sam thinks hes fucking with him yet he went into a full trance in the UK vid.

This is why i loves KNJ calling them out, yes Kian came for Colby in their first collab and that was hard to watch but even after ALL of that here comes Sam with the ouija board and JC calling him dramatic while Kian later said he thought Sam was possessed.

I just really want to hear from the poor people in the neighborhood who were just out walking their dogs on a foggy night and were hearing these 4 men screaming about babies in trees and running around in literal circles aimlessly all night.

They're lucky nobody called the cops on them, lmao.

Interesting that you should bring the judging thing up, because I was just thinking about a long forgotten plot point in the New York Times Best Selling Book "Paradise Island." Maybe you've heard of it (Sam and Colby have never heard of it, lol).

Anyway, there are several points in the book where snc (and i say snc because i truly dont recall if it was just Sam, or Sam and Colby in equal measure who was doing this in the book) are hardcore judging someone, only to immediately declare in the very next breath that they aren't ones to judge.

I remember this coming up on here at the time the book was released, and some of us being like, "Why were they written to be such judgy little fellas?"

Having rewatched this, I'm wondering if their ghostwriter didn't watch some of their videos to get their personalities down before writing that story, lol.

Now, we all have our judgy moments, and anyone who says they don't is lying (hell, I'm judging them right now lmao), but don't be getting all judgemental on someone in one breath, and then claiming you aren't judging in the next. That's just counterproductive.

The Amanda thing really does stem from the fans reaction to her...because if you watch both S and C in the Lizzie Borden video, there are a few points where they look at her and each other like they are just not buying what she's selling. They admitted she was supposed to be a one-off guest star, but her popularity with (some of) the fans is what made them decide to ask her back time and time again.

Now, they may have gone through enough with her at this point that they've decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, or they may be playing it up for views and dramatics (or both), who knows. But her continued appearance in their videos is 100% because of the fans' response to her.

I don't know why Sam's knee jerk reaction is to not believe Colby when he says he felt, saw, or experienced something (especially when he's clearly in distress about it)- but if Sam doesn't even feel like he can fully trust Colby, that's sad for him. Truly.

Also, the knj thing- I hated that video lol. All that yelling over a knock on a creaky old ship? And they're getting in Colby's face and he's practically in tears because who wants the people you looked up to as a child to be accusing you of things on camera- and then in comes fucking Sam with all his audacity and his stupid ouija board idea lol.

But yeah, good for knj for standing up to them (Sam, mostly) on that one.

[imagine-darksiders]

How do you think the four horsemen, Azrael, and 3 other characters of your choice (or more if you’d like!), would react to a human reciting some raw ass lines quoted from memes? I’m talking things like “one day you will be face to face with whatever saw fit to let you exist in the universe and you will have to justify the space you have filled” or “impudent of you to assume I will meet a mortal end”. Would any of them know the true origin?

Fury: After she’d been particularly unkind about a fellow human, you mouthed off to the horseman, prompting her to scowl at you and vehemently hiss, “I beg your pardon?” 

She should have known by the gleeful, bordering-on-wicked smile that parts your lips that she’d said the wrong thing. 

Eyes shining with a wild sort of malice, you stare her dead in the face and whisper, “Then beg.” 

Those two words, in that tone, haunt her for several days following and she starts to think that maybe humans aren’t the timid, mindless primates she’d initially taken them for. 

Death: He just doesn’t know what to think anymore. 

Death sits quietly on an uprooted tree trunk and stares off into the distance at nothing, chin resting on his thumbs and fingertips pressed to his lips whilst you sleep nearby. He’d only known you for a week, and in that time, he thought he had you figured out. 

You liked to joke around, have a laugh. Sure, sometimes you’d get serious, but just an hour ago, the conversation had turned to the topic of the Creator. 

After a moment, you became pensive, frowned gently at the hands in your lap and muttered, “to become God is the loneliest achievement of them all,” which would have been eerie in itself had you not also burst out laughing immediately afterwards. 

It was so profound, so out of the blue and thought-provoking, it left the mighty nephilim reeling. 

War: You had travelled to the Ash Lands, only to find yourselves trapped inside an enormous arena, surrounded by a plethora of roaring demons, each calling for your demise. 

“Kill the human!” they cheer down to the phantom guards that slowly advance on you and War. The horseman attempts to crowd you behind his impressive bulk, putting himself between you and the murderous demons but all of a sudden, you duck under his arm and dart out in front of him, throwing your arms out wide in a display of utter fearlessness. 

“DO I LOOK LIKE THE KIND OF HUMAN WHO DIES!?” you roar, spittle flying from your tongue. 

Just like that, the demons stop dead in their tracks, caught off guard by such a brazen statement. 

Several of them even glance at War, perhaps hoping to glean a wordless answer from your companion, though he’s too busy giving you a look reminiscent of a man who’s been handed a grenade only to realise that he can’t remember whether he’s supposed to count to three or five. 

Strife: You were just about to sneak our of the maker tree to go on a supply run when you found your attempt promptly thwarted by Jones. His strong hand grabs your wrist, worry in his eyes and tone as he hissed, “Where do you think you’re going!?” 

“Um...Out?” 

“But it’s the middle of the night!” he protests, “You’ll be killed!”

Your smile never wavers although your eyes grow round and eager, drawing the attention of several other humans in the vicinity. In a voice low enough to rival the soft murmur of lava flowing nearby, you rumble, “If I do die, bury me shallow. I’ll be back.” 

Jone’s hand goes slack, his jaw popping open and he’s about to respond when the surrounding humans begin to chuckle. 

Bewildered, the man in disguise whips around to gape at them incredulously, giving you the opportunity to slip away and leave him behind to frenetically ask the others what in the nine layers of Hell you’d meant by that!

Azrael: Just before you leave with War to face the Destroyer, Azrael calls out to you, the pinch of his brow setting the tone for what he’s about to say. 

“Before you go, I must tell you something -” His extensive wings flap slowly, bringing him several steps closer. “Not a day goes by that I don’t regret what I’ve done. If I cannot apologise to humanity, then I can at least apologise to you...I am... so sorry, my dear.” 

You’re silent for a time, turning to face the angel and pressing your lips together in thought before a response comes to you. “I think an apology is a bit redundant at this point, don’t you?” 

He blinks, inextricably trapped in the sudden, fervid stare that you send his way. Without waiting for his response, you draw yourself up and jut out your chin. “One day, you will be face to face with whatever saw fit to let you exist in the universe and you will have to justify the space you’ve filled.” 

And without another word, you turn on your heel to face the horseman so Azrael misses the way your cheeks puff out with barely contained laughter. You didn’t think for a moment he’d take your message to heart and write entire scriptures on the uncanny levels of self-awareness found in humans.

[urfavmurtad]

Hi ! I just read through your post about what Islam says about other religions, it was very interesting but I have a question. You said (of Muhammed): "He quotes the “prophecy” predicting himself in the Gospels". What is this prophecy? Thank you in advance!

OK… this is actually a lil embarrassing. Despite the fact that Mohammed repeatedly whined that the Jews and Christians were wrong to reject him because he was predicted by past prophets, he only gave one example of such a prediction. And it’s…. uh… not actually from the Bible. This is from the 61st chapter of the Quran:

Jesus, the son of Mary, said, “O children of Israel, indeed I am the messenger of Allah to you confirming what came before me of the Torah and bringing good tidings of a messenger to come after me, whose name is Ahmad.”

So, look. Mohammed didn’t have a damn clue what the Gospels said, as I’ve already pointed out. He heard a bunch of Gospel-based stories, probably from Arab Christians while trading in the north. Some of those stories were based on the Bible, but others were pulled from what might be gently called Biblical fanfic (later apocryphal texts), and he had no way to distinguish one from the other.

This verse is obviously not from the Bible itself and isn’t found in any of the Bibles that pre-date Islam by centuries. Early Islamic authors nonetheless dug through the Gospels searching for it, usually ending up at a verse in the Gospel of John talking about the Holy Spirit, like this:

“when the Comforter comes, whom I shall send you from the Father, even the Spirit of Truth, who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness to me”

I mean… this isn’t… the verse in the Quran at all, but they were trying!!!

Mohammed’s biography by Ibn Ishaq, which is one of the oldest surviving Islamic works in existence, says that the word for “comforter” in Syriac Aramaic is the same as muhammad (though the Syriac Bible itself just uses the Greek word). So what the Aramaic-speaking Jesus would have literally said, according to him, is that God would send Mohammed at some point in the future. If true, this would be a pretty good argument! Unfortunately the word he is talking about, menahemana, shares neither a sound, a meaning, nor a root with muhammad (h-m-d). Moreover, the Quranic verse doesn’t say “Mohammed”. It says “Ahmed”. Trying to magically turn menahemana into ahmad was too torturous a task for Islamic scholars to pursue, so they tended to drop that line of argument over time.

Some scholars just ignored the whole “Ahmad” part and said that the “Comforter” refers to Mohammed anyway, because why not. But this was unsatisfactory to other scholars, as “Ahmad” does not mean or resemble the word for comforter in Aramaic, Arabic, Greek, or any other language, so why is it there? The core issue of the Quranic verse remained unresolved. Those scholars needed a new explanation for the verse, and here’s where the handy-dandy concept of scriptural corruption of the “original” Bible comes in. Let me explain.

Mo never said or even implied that the scriptures of Jews and Christians had been corrupted from a lost original–he only accused his contemporary Jews of intentionally “hiding” parts of the Torah out of spite towards him and distorting words out of malevolence. He also whined about them incorporating rabbinical concepts into their religion. But the Torah and Gospels themselves, possessed by those same Jews and Christians, are presented as legitimate texts that were divinely inspired throughout the Quran. It plainly states that people in 7th century Arabia could find him described in the Torah and Gospels that they had access to–he calls himself the prophet “whom they find described in the Torah and the Gospels”. Not “the prophet they could have found described in the Bible if it hadn’t been corrupted by Emperor Constantine or whoever”. He never made any distinction made between this supposed “lost original” and the current Bible. To him, they were the same thing–it was just that Jews/Christians willfully ignored parts of it, intentionally misinterpreted it, and substituted its rulings with those pulled from the midrash and such. There was active corruption of the existing legitimate text.

But Islamic scholars eventually realized that many of the Bible’s stories were drastically different from the Quran’s version of those same stories. Moreover, its theological principles are opposed to Islamic principles. These are not issues that can be waived away by saying “oh, they’re just hiding stuff”. So to explain this problem, they came up with a creative idea that unfortunately has zero basis in the Quran or ahadith. This is the principle of scriptural corruption, called tahrif, of the lost originals. Because the Bible conflicts with the Quran, and the Quran must be correct, the Bible must be wrong, even though according to Islamic theology both the Torah and the Gospels (and the Psalms) were divinely revealed. So the Bible must be wrong because someone in the distant pre-Islamic past corrupted it, either intentionally or unintentionally, from the lost initial “correct” revelations of Jesus/Moses/David.

(Those “correct” revelations are assumed to be lost forever. But these same scholars insist that Mohammed is predicted by various verses of the current “corrupt” Bible. How do they know those verses are real when they say so many other verses are fake? This is something that didn’t strike me as strange growing up, but now looking back it’s very much a “HOL UP…” thing.)

Back to the verse in question. Jesus, according to these Islamic scholars, did say that his successor would be named “Ahmad” (the literal meaning of which is “praiseworthy”, like “Mohammed”). It’s just that this verse was changed, which is why it’s not in the Bible. The corruption came in the process of writing the Gospels in Greek.

The Greek word for comforter used in the Bible is paraclete or parakletos, παράκλητος. But that isn’t what Jesus said, and it wasn’t part of the original Gospel manuscripts, according to these very serious individuals. The original word, they say, was periklytos, περικλυτος, which reflected Jesus’ actual words. This second word means “famed” but could be stretched as “praiseworthy”, like ahmad and muhammad.

This word is not found in any pre- or post-Islamic Bibles, at all (not just in this one verse–the word just wasn’t used in the Bible). So the scholars’ argument seems a bit shaky. But fuck it, what dignity did they have left to lose at this point? Jesus said his successor would be some guy named “praiseworthy”, someone wrote it down properly in Greek, but then someone, somehow, for some reason, changed half the letters and made it mean something else and every copy of the Bible that had the original wording has been lost. Mystery solved, hang it up folks!

Anyway, if I may offer another explanation…

“O children of Israel, indeed I am the messenger of Allah to you confirming what came before me of the Torah and bringing good tidings of a messenger to come after me, whose name is Ahmad.”

I’m sure Mohammed really did hear this, or at least thought he heard it, somewhere. There’s a pretty simple reason for that. Mohammed was not a humble man, but he didn’t use his own name here. He said “whose name is Ahmed”, not “whose name is Mohammed”. (If you’re wondering if that poses any theological questions, the answer is no, because he told his followers that he was also Ahmed in addition to Mohammed. That fixes that problem!) If he were just pulling it out of his ass, he would’ve used his actual name, which would fit better with Ibn Ishaq’s whole menahemana theory anyway.

But he didn’t. So where did the verse come from? It’s possible he just misheard some Biblical verse–or multiple Biblical verses accidentally stuck together, as he was prone to doing, since this exact train of thought isn’t found in any single verse. It’s equally possible that he heard this from someone reciting a non-Biblical story, like the stories he pulled the talking-baby-Jesus, Jesus’-clay-birds, etc tales from. Not all of those sources have survived. And so Islamic scholars may have been searching for an explanation for this verse that no longer exists and was never part of the Bible at all.

Oh Mohammed….

[fearsewn]

'excuse me, sir,' the young girl says, spanish accent heavy. poor nahia doesn't even fathom the darkness that coils within this man's soul, she's just a teenager in a foreign country, and he is well-dressed and clean. 'may i please borrow your phone? i'm sorry, mine has eh. run out, eh. the battery is gone? i just need to tell my family where i am.' //bonus she's talking about rezo :^)

Candles and stained glass and that bad-breath mothball stale coffee reek of the elderly; just a few things that make Dr. Crane’s skin break out in hives and crawl as though with a thousand fire ants.  Gothic windows and dusty bibles and hymnals, ‘Gimme That Old Time Religion’ and simmering Arlan Sunday mornings framed by Georgian peach trees (Jonathan hates the taste of peaches to this day), itchy juvenile-sized suits with strangling ties and innards lined in skin irritants, wooden paddles to the ass, compulsive recitations of Old Testament scripture, and Southern Baptists aren’t much like Spanish Catholics, it’s true, but the wooden rosary sticking out of the young girl’s backpack extracts all these revolting memories from the psychiatrist’s childhood.  And suddenly the idea of making the girl pay for a most inconvenient post-traumatic flashback is appealing indeed.

Jonathan’s outward demeanor betrays none of this fury.  For a moment of uncomfortable length, the professor in the sweater vest almost looks catatonic: staring at her with icy, impassive blue eyes, and a small greeting-card smile.  

Then he jolts to life, eyebrows shooting high. 

    “Sure,” he grins, with a coy little wrinkle of his nose.  “Why not. My office hours are over. I was just headed over to my other workplace. Dr. Jonathan Crane.”  He offers Nahia a hand to shake.  “Permit me, are you alright? I couldn’t help but notice your accent.  You’re not lost, are you? This is the science quad.  Mostly microbiology, genetics, and biochem classes.”

One potential red flag holds him back, as he hands over his pristine mobile phone.  

   “Are you a student here? I could peek at your schedule and point you the right direction. What was your name, again?”  

[iammarylastar]

6. Back to Life.

" Morning Cup" Angie smiles.

"Morning love" I smile back, rolling to my side so I face her, eliciting more mewls from the sleeping babies.

I brush lightly both of their curls, resettling Belle's head and Anna's feet against my chest, then cup their mother's cheek.

"You good?" She whispers, nuzzling into my touch.

"Yeah. Never get tired of that kind of wake up."

" Wanna cuddle with me?" I ask after a beautiful, everlasting stare, where we silently told ourselves all that words couldn't express. As much as I love having my babies with me, it's fair to say I really need... you know, her.

I lean forward to kiss her forehead before carefully gathering the twins, my flesh and bones and take them to the tiny bed they've been sharing since their births. Turning and snuggling, my cuties settle themselves half over each other, Anna covering her sister with her arm, Belle nuzzling in her neck.

Jesus this sigh only nearly has me in tears, I protectively cover them with the sheet and place their blue blankies under their arms.

Angie sewed them from my blue shirt, the one she made for me in our former life, the one I was wearing the night before I left for the rescue mission. The one who still smelled like me when the girls were born, Angie confessed me yesterday, despite all the tears she left on it, crying over and over again when she figured out I wouldn't come back.

A last kiss on their sleepy heads and I crawl back to bed with my love, the fucking love of my life, who I've been missing so deep, for so long.

We intertwin our limbs together and creep as close as we could, my hand sneaking under the shirt she's wearing, her hand on my bare chest.

Our bodies quickly find their place, like they used to, and we both sigh in contentment, unexpectedly followed by our babies hums. Like parents like twins, we just laugh at the sync.

" Nice shirt, fits you." I slowly stroke up and down her spine, making her shiver.

"Thank you. Notice, no coffee stain. I took good care of your shirts since they were the last things I got from you." She jokes.

I could have laugh at the coffee thing, but those last words cut me off. A huge wave of sadness crashes me down and I just succumb to desperation. My smirk vanishes as pain takes over me and I can't hold back the river of tears that uncontrollably burn my cheeks.

Burying my head and my shame in her neck, I let go all the unsustainable guilt that still floods in my veins.

"I'm sorry... Oh Angie I'm so sorry..." I manage to mutter between sobs, as warm tears wet her neck.

Shuddering, my voice unsteady and trembling, I keep the words flowing out.

" Angie, I swear I did everything I could to find you back. I've never stopped searching for you... but... I... I'm so sorry I left you. I'm so ashamed you got to go through this. It's my fault..."

I'm actually crying like a baby, shushed and lulled by my sweet love which has me cry harder.

"Shhh... It's OK. It's fine honey."

"Please forgive me Angie. It kills me it took me so long..."

" You're back to me. To us. Nothing else matters."

She pulls me on top of her and kisses my temples, then pushes me back so she can stare at me, forgiving all my weaknesses and failures.

"Thank you. For fighting for us."

"Oh God Angie, you don't know how much I love you."

"Show me." She mouthes, the ring of her lips calling mines.

And that's what I do. I make love to her, slowly, deeply, tenderly. There's nothing about having sex, nothing about seeking any kind of release, nothing like the hot and sexy prowesses we used to have. It was just about feeling complete again. Feeling alive again. Being home. Me and my love, finally united as one.

Resting on my elbows as I slowly thrust in and out of her, exploring the slightest piece of her, I don't stop staring at her, but to kiss her lips, her soul and some warm tears. Her hips move in sync with me, welcoming each of my move, our skins sweating all the love we have for each other, until we're both taken by a blissful orgasm that leaves us breathless and utterly satisfied.

Can't get tired of that kind of wake up, definitely. My love humming her last waves of pleasure under me, her hands on my lower back, keeping me from rolling to the side because "she loves my weight on her" as she told me on our first time together. For Heaven 's sake, make it happen every single day.

"Marry me Angie. Marry me. Today. Now. I can't wait any longer for you to be my wife."

She gives me the sweetest smile, stroking my jawline with the tip of her forefinger.

"Actually I already am." She mocks me.

"What?" Today was supposed to be quiet and uneventful. If you wanted to surprise me, please do it yesterday.

"How do you figure out I could be your widow if we weren't actually married?" She smiles.

"Did I miss something? Cause all I know is our wedding was a fucking disaster to which I even couldn't attend." I narrow my eyes.

"After Gessepp was impeached, Jessie and I were offered to go back to the US. Jess earned a spousal and child support from the court, but I was without resources, without you and with child. Debrah, remember Deb'?"

I nod. Oh yes tell me about her. She led me to you honey.

" She faked the date on the marriage license with the help of the pastor, so I was sure to draw a pension but, I didn't plan to stay your widow forever. I knew, I felt you were alive."

My wife is the best. A real badass. Debrah already told me about that but I haven't realized it meant we were married. It might have saved all the girls lives, but it feels as frustrating as it sounds.

" That was smart and nice of them. But I want a real wedding. One I actually attend. One where I can watch you walk down the aisle, one where I can marvel at you in a wedding dress. I want to see your face when I recit my vows, I want to hear your voice saying 'I do'. I want to take your hand and slide a ring on your finger. Oh and I want to kiss you before the pastor says I can." I add excitedly, which makes her laugh.

"That sounds nice. And romantic. Though I was expecting you to talk about the honeymoon." That beautiful hottie knows me so well.

Having sex with her just minutes ago has erased all the shyness and weirdness that has stuck to my skin since yesterday. I'm now back to my old self, kinky and funny, ready to tease her to death. It seems all my confidence is back, so does my arousal, I'm horny as fuck.

"Oh darling, I'm going to take you all the ways possible and after what I'm going to do to you, nobody could call you an angel anymore. I read the Kama Sutra and I'm ready to study each page with you."

"Kama what?" She lifts an eyebrow questioningly.

"It's a Hindi book, pretty popular in Asia."

That part of my Japanese education was pretty hard to handle... all by myself. I had Sensei giving me tips to maximize the efficiency of each position, to make the girl scream your name louder, I was struggling not to fall in love with Mikomi who waved her stunning beauty under my nose day after day, I haven't fucked anyone for months , even not my right hand despite all the erotic dreams that woke me up at the crack of dawn... Once he said I looked so miserable and offered me to visit Manek who surely would take care of my source of unease. Manek was the professional sex goddess of the village, known to be extremely talented. I immediately ran away to jump into the nearest pool, needing cold water and a look at those ugly coi carps to cool me down. I swear Sensei laughed so hard he fell on his back.

"Stop showing off by using words nobody can understand, smart ass. Is it something like the holy Bible or another scripture?" She cutely questions.

I can't help myself but laugh out loud. The Holy Bible! A devilish grin widens on my lips, I make my best to keep a straight face, enlightening her with my best baryton sultry voice.

"It's scripture yes, it talks about love and what a husband has to do to pleasure his wife. Pretty much detailed pictures of how a man and a woman can... nest together."

She bursts into uncontrollable and loud laugher, making the twins startle and has to cover her mouth with her hand and bite her lips not to wake up the whole house.

I love hearing my angel laugh out loud, her eyes sparkling with happiness. Happiness. That's something I'm gonna get used to from now on.

Once again my feelings overflow and my heart speaks for me:

"I want to raise our daughters with you. I want to make more babies with you. I want to touch your belly as they grow inside you. I want to be with you for the birth. I just want to be here, happy with you forever."

"Like I'm gonna let you go." She laughs. "And wait to spend just a week taking care of the girls before speaking of having other babies. Because between all the sex you promised me and raising baby twins, you'd be pretty exhausted, you big stud."

We both laugh, it feels so good to be close again.

"I'm gonna be the man you deserve. Here." I roll to my other side to dig out from the pocket of my trousers the precious ring I promised myself to give her in person, at any cost.

"This is the first thing I did when I arrived in America. It took me a whole month to earn the money but it helped me to keep going on."

"What if you didn't have found me?" She teases me, rising an eyebrow.

" So I would have asked the first chick named Angie to marry me. Look, our names are engraved in the inner ring." I make the ring roll between my fingers, so she can read the message "Angie I love thee Cup"

"Stop this." She chuckles and slaps my shoulder, before grabbing the ring and sliding it around her finger.

"What?" I ask. I know I'm terrible at proposing. Last time I did, I had no ring and Angie practically said the words for me. This time sucks as well, at least I have the ring but it seems it's not romantic as she expected.

"Stop being that cute. You, Softie..."

Softie... I don't feel like I'm that whiny baby anymore. I've cried enough for a lifetime, from now on I'm going to be the man Sensei taught me. Strong and unbreakable. Head of my family, caring father for my children, trustful husband for my wife.

"OK, so how do you want me to be, Ma'am?"

"You said something about nesting with me? I'm curious as to what you have in mind..." she says seductively.

"Ahmmm, sure the girls won't wake up?" I glance at the cot where our babies lie.

She nods. "No worry in that department, they sleep like rocks till 7. We got at least one hour, if it's long enough for you."

I smirk widely, then roll back so I hover over her.

"Let's have some fun then."

My lips work in tandem with my hand to arouse her whole body, stroking, licking and kissing languourously every piece of flesh I can, until I meet her glistening folds. Kneeling between her thighs, I grab her hips and jerk her waist on my lap, the head of my dick red and throbbing in anticipation. I bend down to kiss her belly while my cock thrusts into her core, eliciting the sexiest sound that has ever passed her lips. With the tip of her toes resting on the mattress, her knees each sides of my hip, she starts to move her waist up and down, swallowing me deeper and deeper. Fuck, it feels so fucking good I can't hold back a grunt, way much louder than expected.

From where I stand, I have the best view of my stunning beauty, waving around my cock, her breasts bouncing rapidly with each move she makes. Searching for some leverage to deepen my thrusts, I grab the back of her neck and let the pad of my thumb wandering along her lower lip. My goddess languidly sucks and nips it before trailing open wet kisses along my palm and on my tattoo.

I close my eyes, trying not to explode now. She asked me about the ink on my wrist last night, but I was not ready to dive in those bittersweet memories then.

One day I'll tell you the whole story my love, I'll tell you about Mikomi, I'm sure you'll understand. You're both strong and beautiful. You both saved my life, you both are my anchors.

Angie's mewls have me back from my thoughts, just to witness her pulling at my arms to sit up on my lap and straddle me. I growl deep in my chest and start eating her breasts and the flesh of her neck. Fuck, this woman is the Kama Sutra by herself. I have such a flame in my chest, she's totally consuming me. Cupping her face, I cover her mouth with mine and kiss her soul, until my lungs burn.

I don't really know how I manage to do that but I sit up to deepen my thrusts, bucking my hips to meet her owns as she pushes herself down on me. My angel looks more than a tigress, her eyes so hungry for me it could be scary. Marvelling at her sweet face as she's about to lose it, I myself feel that fire exploding in my lower belly. I can't help but panting heavily, failing miserably to stay quiet. Angie is not far behind and start to mewl louder and louder at each thrust. I could, I should shush her but the sounds she makes are so sexy and hot I don't want to miss the slightest note.

Our bodies glistening with sweat, my grip on her neck not safe anymore, I slam my hand on her butt, increasing the friction where our waists meet. Far over the edge, Angie screams out in pleasure, her O face finishes to kill me.

I follow within the second, spilling my seed deep inside her, the sound leaving my lungs as strong as my orgasm.

Panting madly, our foreheads touching, we both ride the waves of pleasure that keep shaking our world. Falling back on the mattress, Angie lets out a loud " God, fuck!" which almost shocked me.

It doesn't stay unnoticed by the other inhabitants of the house either, giggles and whispers coming from the other side of the bedroom's wall.

"First thing in the morning: I'm gonna kick out my sister and his silly hubby so we could have this on the regular." Angie states.

I look at her, puzzled and amused.

"Yeah, They totally can settle down in the barn." She laughs.

"Who's that mean person who would trade their family for sex?" I joke.

"Honey, let me tell you something. Last time I used my vagina was to push out two heads large like watermelons. I'm not sorry to finally enjoy a good fuck with you and I'm fed up with holding back my screams. I want to feel free to cry out your name as loud as needed and I expect the same from you. Jessica and Cole would rather become homeless than witness what happens between us."

I chuckle deeply, stroking her cheek. "Who are you? Who's my shy angel gone?" Though I like having my badass wife cursing like a sailor.

"She gave birth, raised two kids and has starved for her husband for about 20 months." She grabs my hand and runs her finger along my ink.

"Who's she?" She whispers, her eyes straight in mines.

"Who?"

"That woman you don't want to talk me about."

Shit. I didn't think this would come up so fast. What can I say? Where should I beginn?

" Cup, whatever happened, I won't mind. I don't want you to keep anything secret from me. I need you back, totally, don't let a piece of your heart behind, talk to me."

She pauses, her sweet gaze wandering from my sealed lips to my wrist.

"The ink was for her?"

" No. It was for you."

And I open my heart to my wife, telling her everything about Mikomi, how she gave me hope and strength, how she saved me, she nursed me, she made me a man again. I told her about her beauty, her grace, her kindness. I told her the fear, the nightmares, the feelings, the kiss.

I stop, waiting to see disappointment or sadness in her eyes. But all I see is pride and love. She's amazing.

"I owe her. I'm glad you had her by your sides."

"Daddy!" A little voice comes from behind me. Belle, my princess, is calling me. Not her ma, me.

I jump into my pants and walk up to their cot. Both of my babies are up on their fatty legs, holding out their chubby arms to me.

"Pick Daddy!" Anna begs me.

Kneeling down to level their tiny faces, I'm hugged and kissed by those little cutie pies, who I hug and kiss back.

"Hello gorgeous ladies. Slept well?" They both nod as I pick them up, each baby finding their places into my arms.

"So tell me, what are we up to? What's the first thing you do in the morning?"

"Cuddle!!!" They scream happily.

"Oh OK! Let's cuddle with your ma." I'm totally spending the rest of my life in bed with my girls.

Turning around, I'm stopped in my tracks by the view. Angie is showering us with that sweet gaze of hers, wearing nothing but the most beautiful smile, her cheeks still red from our early morning sex. I'm hard in my pants in the seconds as my stunning angel slowly wrapped her naked self with the sheets, but it's not the right time, I need my babies to distract me from all the images flashing in my head.

"Who's in for a tickling session?" I grinn at my wife while curling my fingers behind the babies fatty legs. I earn worms wiggles and mice giggles and walk us back to bed.

"A little bird told me your ma really likes this." I tease her, as she nods her head no.

I crawl to Angie, the devilish smirk on my lips ends up in a langourous kiss while my hands are creeping under the sheets, seeking her sensitive sides.

Scratching my 5 hours shadow on the extra soft skin of her jawline and neck, I finally find her most ticklish place, just next her belly button. She immediately burst into laugher, which has our daughters shrieking in delight.

Anna climbs up my back and clings at my neck, her tiny arms barely encircling it. Belle just claps her hands, jumping up and down on the bed. Both begging me either to stop and to go on.

Angie is helplessly fighting my grip, but there's no way I let her go.

I enjoy her offered neck and nip and kiss every piece I can. With all my girls laughing out loud around me, I feel... how could I put a word on it? I've already been sick with love for Angie, is it possible to be sick with happiness?

"Stop it, you know I always win at the games we play..." She smirks, obviously something in mind.

"Ah! Babe you've no idea what I went through to come back to you. Trust me, anything you could say will scare me." She won't win, not this time.

"Really?" She teases me with her eyebrow.

"I'm positive. I'm a tough, unbreakable man. Try anything you want, I'm in."

"Ok, remember you start this." She warns me.

"Go ahead love, I'm waiting." I shrug.

Facing the twins, she sings:

"Girls, who wants Daddy to change their diapers?"

Before I can object anything, my two little bunnies scream in unison.

"Meeeeeeee!"

Shit. I can't go back but how the hell can I manage to clean those tiny kitties with such big hands? Beside I've never done such a thing, I know any shit about babies.

She laughs at my defeated face. " Hey Mister "I'm a fucking good pilot, I can fly a bombardier with my eyes shut", are you scared of changing nappies?"

" Ahmmm, yes, you won. I think I'm going to need some help with that." I admit.

She leans to kiss my lips, then adds.

"Come on girls, let's teach this big guy to be a dad."

I sit up, one baby already hung on my neck and sigh. Let's go, the new life I've been dreaming of is waiting for me.

@captstefanbrandt @every-jai @sajess98 @kenzieam @writingismyhappytime @bookgirlthings @athe-krieger-der-elemente @nickysurfer28 @tigpooh67 @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @pathybo @onceinamillionlifetimes @narfea @desicoulter @cajunpeach @lunaschild2016 @jojuarez26 @jaiboomer11 @cherry-blossom90 @emilybrooksrpworld @herlysmind

·